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selfcarecap · 2 months ago

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✧ Logan Howlett x reader x Storm

✧ summary: Storm and Logan are both hopelessly crushing on you. When they realise that they both like you, they get into a silent competition about who can win you over first… until they realise there might not be a need to make you choose; or: You have a threesome with Logan and Storm

✧ warnings: smut 18+, threesome, oral, fingering, handjob, unprotected piv sex, creampie, liiittle bit of ass play, use of dildo between reader and Storm, I think those are the main things, reader is sub-ish and Logan and Storm are more dominant, reader gets called baby, good girl, princess, pretty girl, bub, nothing happens between Logan and Storm btw because I’m a jealous bitch, reader is shy and a bit awkward, this is definitely mostly porn but romantic feelings are implied too, reader is bi, talking about coming out, but reader is in denial about her crush on Storm and also on Logan bc she’s oblivious and a lil insecure tbh, mention of being drunk, they’re all mutants but it doesn’t rlly come up, Logan is taller than the reader, the part leading up to the smut is a little unserious lol they’re all just whipped but yeah it’s kind of a different fic from my prev Logan ones idk it’s more just fun for the first part; also alternative title is BOAF but I didn’t know how many people would get that lol

✧ word count: oh. umm 11k (the main smut is 4k at the end if you wanna skip to that loll I’ve put a divider (stars) so you know when it starts, you don’t necessarily need to know the backstory)

✧ note: Recently watched X-Men 1 for the first time (yeah i know) and these two are literally the definition of bi panic whaaaatttttt + also I called her Storm and not Ororo(?) because I’ve only watched X Men 1 where they just call her Storm so that’s the only way I’m familiar with her, so yeah idk if anyone else wants this combination of characters but i def do so <33

You’re focussed as you do your daily stretches, completely oblivious to Storm and Logan watching you from the other side of the gym.

They stare as you bend down into downward dog and you make a little exhausted noise at the stretch. Logan almost flinches with how good it feels to hear it; with his enhanced senses it’s as if you’re moaning right into his ear.

Storm’s eyes trail up your legs, over your pink gym set that clings to you in all the right places. She watches a pearl of sweat slide down your belly – she wishes she could lick it off your skin. Logan thinks about making you sweat more if he finally gets you in his bed one day.

He clears his throat after you slide down to your knees, arch your spine and let out a little contented sigh at the welcome stretch. A movement to his right catches Logan’s eye. Storm is standing right next to him, hands on her hips, mirroring his own position.

Is she here to stare at you too? Not that that’s what he’s doing. He was training here himself and was done a few minutes after you got here. Resting his eyes is part of the cooldown – you just so happen to be in his view.

“You training today?” Logan breaks the silence.

“Trained earlier this morning,” Storm answers, folding her arms, “What’re you doing here?” She sounds almost accusatory.

“Just finished my workout. Making sure she’s fine with the weights.” Their eyes drift to you, still stretching.

“She said she might use weights later,” Logan adds, averting his eyes.

The only thing Logan doesn’t like about his little crush on you – if you can even call it that – (you can definitely call it that) is that it sometimes makes him nervous, even if just a little. You’re so sweet and so shy and you’re usually oblivious to his flirting. He’s not used to that.

“Aha,” Storm nods with suspicion and slowly walks out of the gym.

Logan sighs a breath of relief and hopes you didn’t hear any of that. He stops himself from looking at your cute little gym outfit again and leaves to shower.

Later that day, Storm knocks at your bedroom door, “I’ve made lunch if you want some.”

Her voice is so angelic, you think, and you briefly wonder if that’s a normal opinion to have about your friend. It’s not just her voice, but those pretty lips her voice comes out of – just from woman to woman. She has nice lips. That can totally be a platonic compliment.

You realise she’s waiting for you to answer as you just stare at her gorgeous, gorgeous face – okay, maybe you do like her as more than a friend.

��That’s so sweet of you, I’ll come join you,” you put on a high-pitched platonic voice.

You’re sitting down at the table getting your plates ready – Storm made your favourite food, said she was just craving the taste today – when Logan comes in.

“Brought my own lunch, thought I could join you?” He asks but doesn’t wait for an answer, sitting down next to you.

“What if you can’t?” Storm says, an eyebrow raised, though playfully.

“And what would your explanation be?”

“We need girl time.”

You’re looking between them with wide puppy eyes. You’re not sure if they’re being playful after all. Their faces soften when they look at you.

“Maybe Logan can stay for lunch and we’ll go to your room later?” you suggest, “We can have a sleepover tonight.”

Storm’s face lights up, “Good idea.” You miss the smirk she gives Logan, who then huffs.

Logan takes off his leather jacket. You’re sure that’s just your mind playing tricks on you but it almost looks as if he’s doing it deliberately slowly, showing off his big, defined arms. You’re drooling like a dog.

He reaches across the table and your eyes stay glued to his triceps until you hear your name.

“What?”

Logan smiles down at you, “I asked if you could pass the salt.”

You swallow and nod, eyes searching for the salt, but Storm gets there before you. She firmly presses the salt shaker into his hand, and his arm is gone from in front of your face. You resist the urge to pout.

A moment later though, Logan reaches out for the pepper himself, “Sorry, just needa…” He fumbles with the shaker across the table. This time his arm is angled differently and your eyes land right on one of those delicious veins on his skin.

Storm is kind enough to pass him the pepper too, but this time you think you audibly sigh with frustration when Logan pulls his arm back to his body. You focus on eating instead of panicking about whether either of them heard that.

Storm swallows down her jealousy after watching you mesmerised by Logan’s arms for what felt like an eternity with no idea how obvious you were being.

She finishes her glass of water and gets up to get more. She looks at Logan as she walks to the sink. Two can play this game.

With her back turned to the both of you, Storm undoes the top two buttons of her shirt and places the pendant of her necklace right between her breasts. When she sits back down, she leans her elbow on the table and pushes her forearm right against the side of her tits. Your eyes are immediately drawn to them like a honeybee to a flower.

Storm bites back a smirk. She remains silent so as not to pull your attention away from her cleavage. She wants you to get lost there as long as you need to.

Logan rolls his eyes at her and asks you to pass some food from across the table, pulling you out of your trance.

You see the next exchange of looks between the two of them – their eyes do all the talking. You look away and realise… are they flirting? You thought they were mad at each other, having a silent argument, but now you think you might have been wrong. They’re teasing each other.

You can’t decide if you should be jealous or turned on. They’re the two people you have a crush on – again, platonic crushes, obviously. If they got together, in whatever way, at least they’d make a hot couple for you to stare at. But you’d also be devastated that it’s not you who gets to be with either of them.

A quiet sound catches your attention – Storm’s fingernail against her necklace, the necklace that’s nestled right between her breasts. You briefly wonder if she’s trying to get Logan’s attention with it, but in that moment you don’t feel jealous. You just appreciate what’s in front of you.

With your elbow perched on the table, you’re leaning your head against your hand, and you notice too late that your arm is sliding off the table. You gasp when your head loses its support and you sit up quickly, gaze pulled away from Storm.

Heat blooms on your face and you lift your glass of water to your mouth to cool yourself down. But the picture of Storm’s perfect boobs lingers in your mind and you spill half of the water. It rolls down your neck and to your chest, and before you can even consider drying off, Storm’s holding a folded up napkin to your skin, patting from your collarbones to the neckline of your low-cut top.

“Awh, there you go,” she’s done patting you dry and gives you a reassuring smile. Your nipples get hard at the close contact. You hope she doesn’t notice.

You hear a scoff from Logan. Maybe he got something stuck in his teeth. Or maybe it’s directed at you and Storm.

“Thanks, Storm,” you smile your sweet smile and finish your meal.

But you’re not oblivious to what’s going on between them – the looks they’re giving each other – and you don’t know if you like it yet. Not that your opinion matters, sadly.

You bring your own pillow to Storm’s bedroom that night for your sleepover, but she’s got her bed made up all comfy with more pillows than you could need.

“Didn’t know how many you needed,” Storm tells you from in front of her mirror, “I’m so happy we’re doing this. We haven’t had any alone time in so long. Been so busy.”

She’s braiding her hair for the night, hair pulled to one side as she curls the bottom of her strands around her finger, her beautiful neck now exposed. You think about falling to your knees and begging for just one touch. Maybe draw your finger across her skin, or better yet – your lips. The way friends do.

It’s between the first and second film that you decide to finally say something. You were going to ask her during a boring scene of the romcom you just watched but it suddenly turned into a sex scene. You did your best to seem unbothered and tried to move naturally, scratching your head and flexing your wrist. You’re not sure if it worked.

“Soo,” you turn to your side to face Storm as the credits play, “You and Logan?”

You reach into the bag of gummy bears between you and Storm, attempting to seem nonchalant, as if her answer won’t affect you.

She looks a little panicked, and you’re afraid you know what her answer is going to be.

“What about us?” she asks.

You give her a suggestive look but she waits for you to say it.

“Well, is there something going on between you two? I felt like you were flirting during lunch.”

“No, not at all,” she says almost too quickly, “We’re just friends, if that.”

“Really? You’d make an attractive couple.”

She lowers her voice, “We’re really not into each other like that.” You believe her, and withhold your big breath of relief.

“And anyway, I prefer women,” she adds.

“Really? I mean, yeah, I thought you might. I wasn’t sure. I do too, by the way. Well, I like everyone. I mean not everyone obviously but I like all genders. Not that that’s relevant.”

Storm smiles at you sweetly and puts a soft hand on your wrist. “Of course it’s relevant. I’m glad you trust me enough to tell me.”

You giggle nervously, “Of course. I trust you more than anyone in this house.”

Storm’s heart swells in her chest.

You continue, “Well, and Logan obviously.”

Oh.

Obvious, is it?

Well, Storm can work with that.

She picks an incredibly gay film next. She didn’t do it on purpose. She just happened to see the film on Netflix. Sure, perhaps she chose it because there were two women in the picture, but she genuinely wasn’t aware how much sex was in the film.

You’re squirming beside her, even more than during the straight romcom you just watched, and it drives her crazy. She’s just better at hiding it, but she’s turned on too. She wishes she and Logan hadn’t fought over your attention during lunch; if you hadn’t thought that there was something going on between them you might have been ready for more tonight. But she ignores her desire for you, holding her arm tightly as she presses her nails against her skin to relieve some pressure.

When the film is over, Storm tells you how she realised she likes women. When she was little, she had a crush on her babysitter, and ever since then she just knew. You grow bashful when she asks you for your story.

“Uh, Halle Berry as Catwoman? That did it for me,” you tell her as your cheeks heat up. Storm only vaguely remembers the film, but she still has in mind that all of her friends told her that the main character looked like her.

It’s not that she didn’t know you were attracted to her before, but that solidifies it. Now she just has to get rid of Logan.

Storm is busy the next day and you miss her presence the entire morning. You woke up before her, your hands still intertwined from when you fell asleep like that, and – like a fucking loser idiot – you imagined what it was like to be her girlfriend and wake up next to her every day.

Now that you know she doesn’t like Logan, you can fantasise about being with her again without the jealousy looming underneath if he got her before you. And she didn’t just say she wasn’t attracted to him (which is crazy) but that they’re both not into each other (which is crazy of Logan). Both of your crushes are safe.

You decide to try out a new stretching routine to distract yourself from how much you’re missing Storm, your bestie who has no idea how much you like her. The positions are nothing you can’t do, but they’re definitely more challenging than your usual.

Logan’s not expecting to see you when he enters the gym; you’re not normally here at this time.

“Hi,” he says. Your head is between your legs as you’re bent upside down. He crouches down to smile at you from between your thighs.

You grin, standing up to turn towards him to say hello.

“Y’need some help?” He asks. It’s more of a rhetorical question, he’s being polite.

“Actually, there’s this stretch I can’t get into. I think I should be able to do it, but I just need someone to help push me there.”

Logan huffs out a laugh. This is like the porn he plays in his head every night with you and him in the starring roles. “Of course. Where do you want me?”

It’s even better than he could have dreamed. He thought you’d need him to hold your hands and pull to add some resistance, but now you’re bent over in front of him and he’s pushing you into a stretch like a pervy gym instructor.

You keep letting out these little huffs every time you ask Logan to push you further. They sound awfully close to moans. His knee is pressing into the back of yours like you asked him to but you keep asking for more.

He changes up his position, standing behind you fully. If he moved even an inch forward you’d feel his cock pushing against your ass. Logan would usually feel like he’s taking advantage with all the thoughts running through his mind about little innocent you but you’re the one arching even further into him.

He thanks himself for his level of self control and how he manages not to get hard with your pretty ass pressed up against him. It fuels the animalistic side of him and he wants nothing more than to fuck you right here, right now.

It was obvious that you were attracted to him before, but with the way you’re pushing back against his crotch makes him realise that it’s far from innocent.

“Thank you, that felt really good,” you tell him when you stand back up, losing balance after hanging your head upside down for so long. You use Logan’s chest to brace yourself, palms against the hard muscles there. His hands fly to your waist as he makes sure you’re alright. You nod shyly and, with another quick thanks, quickly make your way to your bathroom.

He’s got you. Now he just has to get rid of Storm, and she’s really good with you.

You check in Storm’s room after a long shower, but she’s still out. You find Logan in the kitchen; he’s looking through the almost empty cabinets.

“Wanna go shopping?”

You didn’t think grocery shopping could turn you on, but everything Logan does makes you want to rip off his clothes.

The little things fuel your crush in more heart-warming ways. Like how he picks all your favourite foods, holds the package up to you to ask for approval and places them into the cart that he’s pushing along with one hand as if it’s not full to the brim.

He’s got it all down even to the most obscure snacks you like. It’s sweet that he remembers and it makes you as dizzy as you felt during your sleepover with Storm. It’s not like you really have a chance with either of them, if you’re being honest with yourself, so you’re fine liking them both.

But it’s his touch that drives you crazy.

You’re trying to reach a snack on the top shelf. You’re on your tiptoes and your fingertips are only an inch or so away from it. Just when you’re about to give up, you feel two strong hands on your waist, lifting you that tiny bit with no effort at all.

“There you go,” Logan smiles down at you, taking the package from you and putting it in the cart. Your body still buzzes with the sparks of his touch.

You’re not very helpful for the rest of the shopping trip. All you’re doing is staring at him. You almost fall to your knees when he reaches up to the top shelf and his shirt lifts a bit. You think seeing even just a tiny sliver of his abs might be the highlight of your day, until you remember how he was pushed up against you during your stretches earlier.

God, you’re so into him.

Storm finds Logan as soon as she gets home. She hasn’t had a chance to talk to him since your revelation yesterday yet.

“She’s in her bedroom,” Logan tells Storm when she comes in, assuming she��s looking for you.

“I need to talk to you,” she crosses her arms, “She told me yesterday that she thinks we’re into each other.”

Logan cringes, “What, us two? Is she blind?”

“Apparently. I told her that it’s not like that but I don’t know if she believed it. She thought we were flirting with each other at lunch the other day instead of with her.”

“Alright, we just need to stop making it so obvious we’re fighting over her. Let’s just not get in each other’s way and she’ll choose whoever she’ll choose.”

“Yeah,” Storm agrees.

Logan smiles, “I can’t believe that stunt you pulled when she spilled the water. I mean, come on, that was so unfair, I can’t just press a napkin to her tits.”

She laughs, “Okay Mister Bicep, we both have our benefits.” They smile at each other.

Storm huffs, and reluctantly admits: “I wish she looked at me the way she looks at your abs.”

“I wish she looked at me the way she looks at your chest.”

They’re standing next to each other now, staring at nothing, consumed by thoughts of you. They’re so into you.

“When did you realise you like her?” Storm asks.

“I don’t remember an exact moment but it’s just, her gorgeous fucking face. And her whole clumsy thing just does it for me, I don’t know.”

“I like it too. She’s so adorable when she gets all awkward.”

“It makes me want to fuck her so bad,” they say at the same time, then laugh quietly.

Logan clears his throat, “Not to be crude but I’d fuck all that nervousness out of her.”

“Me too. Until she’s so exhausted she can’t even begin to overthink anything.”

They exchange a look – this is getting too heated.

“May the best one win,” Logan concludes, and with a last nod at each other, they both leave the kitchen.

It’s a mutual friend’s birthday that week, and all three of you are going to the party.

You’re walking to your room the evening of the party, and Logan opens his bedroom door just as you’re walking past it.

“Hey, you got a minute?” Logan asks, “I need help with my outfit.”

You smile. It’s an excuse to stare at Logan, of course you’ll help.

He changes his shirt about five times – even though there are only two that he can’t decide between. But every time he changes his top, there are a few seconds in which he’s half naked – his muscular, hairy, gorgeous chest and abs exposed, with that thick happy trail reminding you why it’s called that – and you forget all about what the previous shirt looked like.

You watch him change yet another time, quietly sighing to yourself because at some point you have to decide. You watch him button up his shirt and let your eyes roam over the lower part of his body.

His trousers are hugging his legs so deliciously, they must be tailored. And that sexy belt he always wears keeps sparkling with the reflection of the light, as if you’re not staring at his crotch enough anyway.

“So this one?” Logan asks.

“Y-yeah,” you nod, as if he doesn’t look equally good in both shirts anyway.

“What do you think of the material?” He asks. You smile, getting up to feel it.

You place your hand on the side of his arm, trailing down it, feeling his muscles while you pretend to be feeling the shirt.

“I like how it feels,” Logan says, looking down at himself and rubbing his fingers over his clothed chest. You follow, bringing your palm to his collarbone to trace his body, from his chest to his lower abs.

“It does feel nice,” you say. It’s a normal dress shirt, made from whatever material they’re usually made of, but with the warmth of Logan’s body it’s one of the best things you’ve ever felt.

Distracted by his body, you don’t realise Logan looking down at you, tracing your every feature with his eyes. He can practically see the water pooling in your mouth, and he doesn’t need his enhanced senses to know that you want him in this moment.

He clears his throat and it makes you lose your balance, gripping Logan’s shirt to steady yourself as his hands fly to your waist.

“Careful, bub,” he smiles and you feel the heat on your cheeks. How can this man make you stumble without even moving?

“Are you gonna wear a tie?” you ask quietly — you can’t trust your voice right now.

“I’ve got one here,” Logan passes it to you. He feels like a tie might be a bit too formal for a birthday, but he won’t stop you from staying close.

You go on your tiptoes to drape the tie around his neck, nervously fiddling with the fabric. “Actually, uh, I don’t know how to tie a tie,” you admit, giggling at your own words.

“That’s okay, bub, I’ll show you.”

You don’t retain any information as Logan helps you with his tie, guiding your fingers with his big, warm hands over yours.

Your breaths intertwine from standing so close, and you don’t even realise that you’re on your tiptoes again, trying to get as close to Logan as possible.

You know that he can hear how fast your heart is beating, but when his tie is on and you smooth it down against his chest, you feel his own heart beating wildly against his ribcage.

Logan looks into your eyes, a soft smile on his lips, and you know what’s going to happen. You’re about to kiss.

He gently places his hand on the side of your face, leaning in.

Just when your lips are about to touch, you hear Storm calling out your name from the hallway.

“Uh, Storm was gonna do my make-up,” you stutter, Logan’s hand still on your face. He silently drops it and smiles sadly, “yeah,” he says.

He moves back to stand in front of the mirror, taking the tie off again, “Think this is too much.”

You nod, “yeah. Sure. I’ll see you later.”

You walk out of Logan’s room with a weird feeling, but as soon as you get to Storm’s room it’s like nothing just happened.

It smells so good in her bedroom, a mix of her perfume and hair products and her clean bed sheets. She smiles at you, patting the bed for you to sit next to her.

You close the door behind you, creating a space for just the two of you. It always feels like that when you’re with her, even when there are other people around. Except for Logan maybe; he’s the only one who can get in without even trying — but it’s still different when it’s really just the two of you.

You’re immediately lost in the world of beautiful Storm as she presents to you her outfit for the night; it fits her every curve and contour and you briefly wonder how you could ever think of her as nothing more than a friend. It breaks your heart that she only sees you as one, but it doesn’t stop the desire you have for her and the joy you feel when you’re around her.

Storm does your make-up on her bed, both of you sitting cross-legged with your knees touching. Her hand is placed gently on your face as she does your eyeshadow.

“You’re so naturally beautiful,” she tells you in her calm voice, “Don’t really need any of this.”

You feel your heart beating wildly in your chest. She just means it as a friend, she just means it as a friend.

You gulp, “Wish I looked like you. You’re so gorgeous.”

She smiles at you softly, “Thank you, but you’re perfect like this. Lips.” You open your mouth slightly so that she can apply your lipgloss for you. Even though she’s using the applicator, it feels as intimate as if it were her finger.

She called you perfect.

Your eyes go down to her lips and you realise she hasn’t put any product on her own lips yet. You’re not sure what comes over you at your next question.

“You want some too?” you ask, breathless, staring at her lips. Even though you’re not looking into her eyes, you can see her looking down at your lips and she smiles a beautiful, sexy smile and nods.

Storm briefly presses her lips to yours, the way straight girls sometimes do at parties – except that neither of you are straight and you’re not at a party, and you doubt that straight friends feel like this after kissing each other. You pull away instinctively, you don’t want her thinking that you could ever even assume that she likes you like that. You’re just friends, and you know that.

Still, you can’t resist reaching out a finger to swipe the excess product over the top of her lip, and you let out a nervous giggle when you notice that her eyes are still on your lips.

An alarm on your phone interrupts you; you set it for 20 minutes before you have to leave to make sure you have everything. You didn’t notice how close you and Storm were until you both pulled away at the noise.

The alert pulls you out of your Storm induced warm cloud, an uncomfortable feeling settling on your skin. Being the good friend she is, Storm realises immediately.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, a soft hand on your arm.

“Nothing, I just get nervous about these types of parties sometimes. There’ll be so many people I don’t know, and it’ll be so big and loud. I was thinking of taking a shot or something.”

Storm smiles, “Not that I’m against a little shot for courage, but d’you wanna know something natural that always helps me calm down?”

“Mhm, what is it?”

“I feel like a nice orgasm always makes me calmer. Just a quick one with my fingers or a vibrator.”

Her words knock the air out of you. Somehow, you manage to respond. “I’ve always wanted to use toys but I don’t have any. I should really get one,” you chuckle nervously.

“I’m happy to share one of mine if you don’t mind,” she looks deep into your eyes and all you can do is nod your head pathetically. There are some types of thoughts you’ve done your hardest not to let into your head – she’s your friend, she wouldn’t want you thinking about her like that – and now she’s the one putting them there on purpose.

She twists her lips, almost.. nervously? and, in a low voice, says: “You think an orgasm right now would help you?”

Again, you don’t manage to say any words but you do nod your head, biting your lip.

“You wanna do it yourself or can I stay?” she asks, one shoulder pulled up seductively.

“S-stay,” you stutter.

“I could eat you out if you want, but no pressure. I just feel like that’s the quickest way.”

You take a deep breath. All kinds of thoughts are shooting through your head, but maybe she’s just horny. During your sleepover the other day, she told you how she hasn’t had sex in a while, and how she gets off on making her partners come, so maybe it’s just a natural desire that she wants to make someone other than herself come again for once. It’s got nothing to do with you, you know that, but you revel in the knowledge that she at least finds you attractive enough to want to make you come, even if it’s just as a friend.

You’re also confused. Your ex always took hours to make you come with his mouth, but, still, you believe every word coming from Storm’s pretty lips.

You nod, “Ye-yeah. If that’s okay with you. That’s a very uh, very nice, friendly favour.” You have to make sure she knows that you’re not delusional, thinking this is more than friendly.

As you squirm in your seat, you miss Storm’s little sigh of frustration at your oblivion. Instead of pitying herself, she decides she’ll show you why you should be more than friends.

“Y’ready?” she asks, blessing your ears with her bedroom voice.

“Yes,” you breathe.

Your next breath catches in your throat as Storm leans in to press the most gentle kiss you’ve ever experienced to the side of your neck. She’s warm and soft and smells like heaven.

Her lips slowly press along your pulse point, the tip of her tongue darting out as she makes her way up to your ear. Her teeth scrape along your earlobe, but she doesn’t bite. You almost whimper when her warm mouth is gone from your ear.

Storm slides her hand to your jaw, moving her thumb to your lower lip, “May I?”

You nod quickly, and she pulls your lower lip down, sliding her thumb into your mouth to wet it.

You suck on her thumb, mouth watering at having her so close. Storm takes her hand away from your face with a satisfied hum and gently folds your skirt up to your hips, pulling your panties to the side.

She giggles, “y’got such cute underwear.” You look down and remember the panties you decided to put on today – pink underwear with cherries and a red lace trim. You weren’t expecting anyone to see it, let alone Storm. Before you have time to get embarrassed, her thumb is on your clit.

You gasp at the first contact, and your knees buckle. You’re glad you’re already sitting down. She goes to kneel on her soft carpet, sitting down between your legs.

Her breath is on your pussy and you feel yourself clenching around nothing.

“What a pretty fucking pussy,” Storm whispers, more to herself, and impatiently pulls your underwear out of the way more harshly, making sure it stays there. She looks up at you from between your legs, pushing your knees up to your chest, and you bite your lip.

This doesn’t feel so friendly anymore. Unless she just gets off on making her pretty friends come.

Storm sucks her thumb into her mouth to wet it again and begins to gently rub your clit in circles. She realises how wet you already are and smiles, leaning in to press a kiss to your clit.

“There you go,” she says quietly, and then puts her mouth on you. She runs her tongue through your folds and she’s so gentle. You’re torn between enjoying it and wanting more.

“Feels so good,” you mumble, and Storm grips the flesh of your thigh to hold you still.

She smiles against you, “Yeah?” and brings her middle and ring finger to your pussy. Licking your clit, she pushes two fingers into you, slowly making her way inside even though you’re more than wet enough.

Your pussy makes a squelching sound against her fingers as she begins to fuck into you, curling her fingers up to rub against your g-spot. You gasp when you first feel her there, your head dropping to the side in pleasure as you moan.

She pulls her fingers out to suck them into her mouth, tasting you with a satisfied hum, “Taste so good, baby.” You get even wetter at that name alone, squirming beneath her gaze.

“Be a good girl for me and stay still, okay?” she asks, mouth connecting with your pussy again as she looks up at you. You nod desperately, hoping she can’t feel the intense heat spreading over your face down to your chest.

She slides two fingers back into you, fucking you gently but precisely, and you already feel the excitement building up in your belly. Storm’s tongue dances over your clit, exactly how you need it to. The only thing missing now is just a liittle more friction.

It’s like she can read your mind, continuing to fuck into your wet pussy at a steady pace, as she begins to suck on your clit. You see stars immediately.

Her mouth has been on you for only a few minutes when she’s got you coming on her tongue and fingers. You whimper her name as you arch your back, hips chasing her face to prolong your orgasm as it crashes over you in waves.

She pulls her fingers out and rubs your clit for a bit longer until you’re squirming again, patting your pussy before she gets up. “Good”, she simply says, biting her lip.

“You feel better?” she smiles at you, innocently sucking your arousal off her fingers as if it’s something she’s done a million times before. As if it’s a normal thing to do with a friend.

“Yeah, much better,” you smile shyly, wondering how to ask her what that was.

She sits down right next to you, pulling your panties and skirt back in place, keeping her hand on your thigh afterwards. She smiles at you, and it feels so intimate. Storm reaches for the lipgloss again, “It’s all wiped away. Here.”

You smile and let her apply the lipgloss again. Storm places a hand on the bed next to your hip to lean in as she does so. She puts the lipgloss away but stays close. She looks at your lips. Your heart starts beating furiously in your chest – she’s about to kiss you.

This time it’s Logan who interrupts you. He calls out your name from the hallway, it’s time to leave.

Storm sits back, “you ready?”

“Yeah,” you nod. She takes your hand as you leave her room. You don’t let go even when you see Logan, his eyes immediately finding your intertwined hands.

He doesn’t know what it means. There are plenty of platonic girlfriends that hold hands.

You don’t know what it means either, but you know you like the feeling.

You don’t mean to get drunk but that’s kind of what happens when you subconsciously try to keep up with mutants with healing factors that make it almost impossible for them to get drunk.

You arrived at the party still hand-in-hand with Storm and spent the first half joined at the hip with her. Logan couldn’t even get you alone for a second because every time one of you left for the bathroom the other went too without hesitation.

Logan finally finds you alone in the kitchen, looking for another drink.

“Y’sure you should have more to drink?” he smiles.

You notice him then, “Logan!” you run over to hug him.

Being drunk makes you more affectionate.

“Can you mix me a drink?” you ask Logan, his arm still around your waist. It feels good there.

“Maybe you want water for now?”

You pout at him drunkenly, taking a step back and folding your arms, “You’re just jealous you can’t get drunk. Doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to.”

Logan lifts his arms in defence, “‘Course you’re allowed to, bub. Just making sure you’re up for it. What do you want?”

You, Logan and Storm end up in the living room at the mansion. You’ve been very entertaining in your drunk state but, more importantly, you decided to hold one of their hands each in your lap in the back of the car on the way home. They know you get like this when you drink, and they’d never try anything with you like this, of course. But they could have a bit of harmless fun.

It’s your idea to play never have I ever, but the two of them are just as happy to. You’re playing the game with water instead of alcohol, but that’s probably better for you anyway.

Storm and Logan resist the urge to make the game sexual; they’re unsure what you’d be comfortable with if you were sober. You’re the one who makes it explicit.

“Never have I ever…” you’re leaning the bottle of water against your cheek to cool yourself down, “had a threesome.”

The room is immediately struck with tension. Logan and Storm exchange a look that you miss. How have they not thought of this before?

You look at them expectantly.

It’s a perfectly innocent statement – well, innocent in a way that you’re not implying anything to them specifically. Even in your wildest thoughts you’ve only fantasised about one of them at a time.

Your eyes are on Storm but she shakes her head. Logan drinks. He shrugs, “Been alive for so long, you try some things.”

You’re torn between arousal and jealousy, but settle on arousal. You forget all about the game.

“I’m not that experienced,” you tell them honestly, “I’d love to experiment a bit but I get shy. Not that I’m– um, not a threesome necessarily. I’m just saying.” You clear your throat, averting your eyes.

“How many people have you been with?” Storm asks, voice soft.

You swallow, unsure whether to count her or not. Does it count if it was with a friend? “Just my ex boyfriend.”

“There’s been no one else?” Logan asks, and you shake your head in embarrassment.

“I told you I’m shy.”

“Nothing wrong with being shy,” he says, “It can be endearing. Don’t you think, Storm?”

When you turn to her, her eyes are already on you, “I agree.”

Your face feels hot and you’re suddenly nervous. They’re both flirting with you, if the alcohol isn’t deceiving you, and you don’t know who you like more. You think of some stupid ‘never have I ever’ statement to change the topic. They do you the favour of playing along.

It’s not long until you all go to bed, going your separate ways but not without a long hug from both of them.

The next morning, Logan and Storm meet in front of your room. She’s made breakfast for you and he’s brought you water and some aspirin.

“I should have thought of that,” they say at the same time. Logan knocks at your door.

“It’s us,” Storm says after another knock.

You’re not in your bedroom.

They look for you in the entire mansion, but you’re not there.

“Maybe she’s walking off her hangover,” Logan shrugs, starting to eat the food Storm made for you as they’re standing in the kitchen.

They don’t see you all day.

Storm’s in the kitchen in the evening, starting to worry. She knows you’re not far, and you can handle yourself, but she’s worried you’re embarrassed about what you said when you were drunk, or regretting what you did before the party yesterday.

There are footsteps coming down the hallway, and she knows it’s you before you’re there.

“Hey,” she smiles when she sees you.

“Hi.”

“Haven’t seen you all day.”

“Sorry,” you sit down next to her, a shy smile on your face, “Didn’t mean to disappear. I just needed to think.”

Storm breathes. “Yeah, that’s okay. What were you thinking about?” Her heart starts beating faster.

“Well, I’ve been thinking about what Logan said yesterday. And I don’t know if I’m misinterpreting things and I don’t want to make anything awkward between us or anything…” you look at her in worry, and she takes your hand. She’s not sure what you mean but she knows you need her encouragement to say it.

You continue, “I don’t know but maybe… maybe Logan could show us what a threesome is like?”

All the worry on your face melts away when Storm grips your hand tighter and gets up. She grins as she pulls you upstairs.

She walks you to Logan’s room and, without knocking, pushes his door open, “My bedroom. Right now.” He follows you without question.

“Lock the door behind you,” Storm tells Logan when you’re all in her bedroom. Your skin is on fire.

“Whats’s going on?” Logan has his arms folded, a smile playing on his lips.

His eyes are on you but you look over at Storm, who just smirks.

“Are you gonna make me say it again?” you ask, horrified.

“You got this, baby,” she tells you, and hearing her call you that again gives you courage.

You look at the floor, “Uh, I don’t know if you two want to do that with me but. I was thinking maybe we could, like, have, um, a threesome?” You were a lot smoother in your head.

Logan raises his eyebrows, “You don’t know if we want to do that with you? You tellin’ me you haven’t noticed what’s been goin’ on, bub?” He’s right in front of you now, hands holding your face.

“Uh…” you know he can feel your skin heating up under his fingers.

“Want you so fucking bad. Both of us,” Logan nods towards Storm.

“Oh.”

(Logan decides this isn’t the time to tell you that his threesome was with two guys.)

They both grin at each other and Logan walks you to Storm’s bed. They sit down on either side of you – you don’t even know where to look. You don’t know who to kiss first.

Storm makes the decision for you, gently turning your head towards her. You lean in without another word.

This time you get more than a peck. Her mouth is hungry and wet against yours, her lips soft. You’re kissing messily and loudly, and you do your best not getting on top of her yet. You pull away only because Logan’s there too.

“Been dying to do that since last night,” you smile.

“I know,” Storm giggles, “Knew you appreciated my friendly favour.” You hide your face in her neck at her teasing. You’re not sure how you could be so stupid. Now you know it’s more than friendship.

“What’s that?” Logan asks, an eyebrow raised.

You bite your lip, “We’ll tell you later.”

Before he can question it, you pull Logan closer by his shirt. His kisses are rougher, but not in a bad way. His beard scratches against your cheek with the desperation in his kisses, and he’s pulling you closer. You moan into his mouth as his tongue slips between your lips, and you grab a fistful of his shirt.

Storm starts kissing the side of your neck, the way she did last night, and you’re so lost in pleasure that you stop kissing Logan.

“Too hot,” you mumble, pulling off your top absentmindedly. They both stop what they’re doing.

“You wear stuff like this all the time?” Logan smirks, finger slipping under your bra strap. You forgot about the lingerie you put on for them.

You shake your head, “Thought we might do this tonight.”

Logan grins and starts kissing your shoulder, pulling one of your bra straps down with his teeth. Storm turns your head back to her and kisses you again – gentle, teasing pecks from her soft lips to yours. She kisses over your cheek and your jaw, begins to gently nibble on your earlobe.

Logan pauses when his mouth is at your wrist, “You know, bub, the problem with pretty lingerie like this is that it ends up coming off again real quick.”

You’re already so horny from two pairs of lips on you that you can barely speak. “Doesn’t sound like a problem to me at all,” you mumble.

“Can we take it off, baby?” Storm asks.

“Please.”

You feel Storm’s fingers at your back, opening your bra, and Logan is the one who pulls it off.

They both sigh when they see your tits for the first time, moving to the breast closest to them. Logan thumbs over your nipple, gently playing with it while Storm wraps her lips around your other nipple. You feel yourself getting so wet.

“H-how about—” you take a deep breath to calm yourself down, “how about you take your clothes off too.”

“How about you take them off?” Storm bites her lip.

You nod quickly, lifting her top over her head to find her bare underneath. You trace your hands over her perfect tits, cupping them as your thumbs rub over her nipples and she lets out the sweetest moan.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Logan moving to take off his shirt so you quickly turn to him, grabbing hold of his shirt to do it yourself while Storm stands up to take off her trousers.

You pull off Logan’s shirt and, even though you’ve seen him shirtless before, you’re mesmerised by the muscles and the hair and how good he looks.

“Y’like what you see, bub?” He smirks and you bite your lip, resisting kissing him. You move on to his belt, trying to ignore how Logan gropes your tits as you get him naked except for his boxers.

Storm sits between your legs, helping you out of your trousers and you all move to the middle of the bed. You’re panting before anything has even started, “Sorry, it’s just cause I’m excited,” you breathe, grinning with anticipation.

“It’s okay,” Storm kisses you behind your ear.

“So are we, bub,” Logan tells you, moving to press his lips to the side of your neck. He kisses further up, to your jaw, while Storm’s lips ghost over your collarbone on your other side.

Excitement builds up in your belly, your skin tingling all over. You kiss whoever is closer to you – it’s Logan – and start making out with him. The only way to accurately describe the kiss is to say that it’s sloppy. Logan’s devouring you, licking your lips and into your mouth.

You carefully feel for Storm’s face and don’t stop kissing Logan until she’s right next to you too so you can kiss her instead. She puts a hand behind your neck to pull you in, and you lean your hand on Logan’s leg to steady yourself.

When your hand moves just an inch, you feel how hard he is, and how big. You force yourself to pull away from Storm, your lips already kissed raw.

Logan’s thigh tenses under your hand, “How are we gonna do this?”

“Don’t know, just wanna cum,” you say. You don’t want to seem petulant, but you’ve never been this turned on in your life. Your underwear is soaked through and it almost hurts how badly you need to be fucked right now.

“We got you, baby,” Logan says, “Can I take these off?” He starts to pull at the waistband of your panties where they hug your hip, and you nod quickly.

Storm gets up to walk to her nightstand, but you can’t focus on her too. Your mind is on Logan all but ripping your panties down your legs, discarding them somewhere on the carpet.

He takes your knees to push your thighs up to your chest as you lie down, your head supported by a pillow.

“God, look at you. So fucking pretty. Look at her, Storm,” Logan says, spreading you open for him to take all of you in.

Storm smirks at Logan, “I know.”

You feel Logan’s eyes going between you and her, but she’s leaning down to kiss you so all of your senses are taken over by her.

“Got this just for you, baby,” Storm stops kissing you, pulling something out of the drawer of her nightstand. She’s holding a pink, soft silk bag, “Had a feeling you might want to play.” She pulls out a pink dildo, and you bite your lip as she kisses you again.

Logan asks you something twice before you register what he’s saying, lightly squeezing your ankle to get your attention.

“Huh?” you pull away from the kiss.

“Can I eat your pussy?”

You nod, “But I want you inside me.”

Logan smiles, “Alright, just let me get a taste first. Been dying to know how you taste.”

Storm lies down next to you on her stomach to kiss you some more. Her lips trail over your shoulders and move up to your neck.

Logan bends down so his face is between your legs, and he shakes his head in disbelief. “You’re so wet already, bub. So fucking pretty,” he smiles, moving to lick all the way up your pussy once.

“Here,” he pulls your legs over his shoulders as he settles between them. He pushes two of his thick fingers into your pussy and puts his mouth on you. His tongue on you is fast and skilled, but you still need more.

“‘S not enough,” you whine, and Logan looks up, smiling.

“Need me inside?” he asks, wiping his mouth that’s smeared with you with the back of his hand. You nod, staring in awe as he finally takes off his boxers and you get to see his hard cock in all its glory.

“Y’gonna be okay, bub? It’s kinda big,” he teases. You can see that. But all you can do is keep staring with an open mouth and nod. Storm wipes some spit from the corner of your mouth and gives you a quick kiss.

“You got this, baby,” she tells you, cupping one of your tits while she strokes over your hair with her other hand.

“Yeah,” you say, eyes not leaving Logan’s cock.

“You ready?” he asks, bending down to give you a long, wet kiss.

“Mhmm, need it so bad.”

He chuckles as he spreads your legs for him again, rubbing the tip of his cock along your pussy. It’s so wet you can hear it.

Logan slowly pushes inside you, and you gasp when he fills you up. He’s big, but the pleasure outweighs the pain.

“Theeere you go, bub. So fucking tight f’me. Taking me so well,” he starts to thrust into you in a gentle rhythm, fucking you deep but pacing himself.

It takes you a few moments to get used to his size, but Storm’s kisses at your neck help you ease into it. You can’t believe this is happening – you never would have thought you’d be with either of them, especially not with both and at the same time.

“Feels so good,” you moan weakly, pulling Storm to kiss you again. You whine when she lets go, but she’s sitting up at your side again soon, holding the dildo. You nod before she’s even said anything.

“Let me,” she leans over to Logan, who pulls out of you. Storm fucks your pussy with the cool silicone for just a moment, and it’s wet with your arousal when she brings it up to your chest.

She teases you first, rubbing the wet tip of the dildo over your nipples, trailing it up your chest and over your cheek, smearing your own arousal over your face. You bite your lip in frustration, and look down to see Logan jerking off to the sight of you spread out for him. You can’t decide who of them you need more.

You’re salivating just at the thought of Storm fucking your mouth with the toy, and you hum when she rubs it across your lips.

“Close your mouth, baby,” Storm says when you’re about to take it in your mouth. She leans over you and lets her spit drop onto your mouth, smiling as she trails the tip of the dildo around your mouth, your lips desperately parting for it.

“Here, baby,” she says finally, pushing the dildo past your lips. You moan around it, taking the silicone as deep as you can.

Storm fucks your mouth with it and all it’s doing is making you even more horny. The sound of Logan’s slicked hand on his cock stops, and he’s grabbing your thighs to spread them more, finally fucking you again. This time his pace is rougher, and it’s exactly what you need.

Storm’s wet lips are on your jaw as she continues to push the toy in and out of your mouth as you suck on it eagerly. She bites her lip as she leans over you to watch you, pushing the dildo in just a bit more.

“Doing such a good job, baby,” she hums, holding your chin.

“Yeah, being such a good girl for us,” Logan rasps, voice hoarse as he fucks you, “Look so fucking sexy with your lips wrapped around a cock.” You know he can feel your pussy clench around him at his words and he smirks, rubbing your clit with his thumb.

As you focus back on the cock in your mouth, you notice that Storm’s free hand is down her panties, and you can see her getting worked up too, a bead of sweat rolling down the valley of her tits.

You hum around the dildo and she pulls it out. “Wanna eat your pussy,” you tell her, voice almost whiny.

She smiles, sitting up to pull down her underwear. You reach out to touch the flesh of her thigh, and all you want to do is taste her.

You get up, disregarding how Logan slips out of you as you turn around to get on all fours. Storm sits down in front of you, leaning against the headboard.

“I’ve never done this,” you tell her, leaning down with your ass in the air. Logan positions your hips so he can rub the tip of his cock through your folds, and you take a moment to close your eyes and focus back on Storm.

“That’s okay, baby,” she tells you, “I know you’ll do well.”

You nod eagerly as you spread her legs, leaning in to press a kiss to her clit. You’re addicted as soon as you taste her. You open your mouth wider to lick up all of her that you can, attaching your mouth to Storm’s pussy like you never want to let go.

Her hand goes to the top of your head, careful not to mess up your hair as she spreads her knees wider to accommodate you between them.

You lick at Storm’s clit, tongue trailing down to taste her some more. You revel in the sounds she makes when you start to make out with her pussy, all but putting your face in it.

It’s then that Logan begins to fuck you again, pushing his dick all the way inside your wet pussy. He’s rocking into you so much that it makes your whole body move forwards and backwards with his thrusts, and you can barely focus on Storm’s pussy.

“Sorry, bub”, Logan says from behind you when he notices that you’ve stopped, but you can hear from his voice that he’s not sorry at all. You and Storm smile at each other as you grip her thigh to hold yourself in place and go down on her again.

You get the hang of eating pussy quickly, paying attention to the sounds Storm makes and what makes her knees tremble around your head.

She comes against your lips when you suck her clit into your mouth. Her hand is at the back of your head, hips chasing your face as you play with her clit through her orgasm.

Being between Storm’s thighs as she comes ignites a fire in your core, and Logan’s fucking you so good, getting messy from how close he is.

You push yourself up on your arms to kiss Storm, smearing her wetness over her lips as you make out. She has to hold your face so that you don’t move too much with Logan’s thrusts, but you’re too weak to keep kissing her as you get closer to your orgasm.

“You close, bub? Gonna cum inside you,” Logan grunts from behind you.

“Mhmm, don’t stop, please.”

“I got you, baby, I got you. Doin’ so well,” he grabs your hips to fuck you even deeper as you arch your back. He hits that sweet spot inside you, and one of his hands sneaks down over your belly to rub your clit.

Even though you can hear him starting to lose his breath, trying hard not to come yet, he plays with your clit in a way that’s perfect, and your orgasm has you biting back your moans because you’re scared of how loud they’d be.

Logan blows his load in you before you’re done coming, and it prolongs your own orgasm as he fills you with his cum, somehow even deeper inside you than he was before.

You almost collapse when he’s done with you, smiling as you roll over to lie on your back.

Storm lies down next to you and kisses you while Logan gets the bottle of water from her nightstand. She drinks a sip first and then passes it to you.

Logan chugs the rest of the water when you’re done, his adam’s apple bobbing as a drop of sweat slides down his neck. You follow it all the way over his glistening abs and down into his happy trail. You notice then that he’s hard again – or still hard – and you’ve finally got the answer to that question you’ve spent nights thinking about, wondering if his healing factor also applies to his sex drive.

“You want more, bub?” Logan asks as Storm starts kissing your neck in that way she knows how to do so well.

You nod as you sit up, Storm getting the dildo as she gets behind you, Logan sitting in front of you.

“Can I fuck you, baby?” Storm asks, hand trailing down the back of your spine and over your ass as you get on all fours again.

“Yeah,” you tell her, looking back at her with a smile, a new desire forming deep in you.

You get between Logan’s legs, leaning in to kiss him again. Every time his mouth is on you, it feels like he’s devouring you, and it’s one of the best feelings you’ve ever had. He’s all tongue and teeth.

“Can I suck your cock?” you ask against his lips, your mouth squished up with his hand grabbing your face.

“Been waiting for this since I saw you for the first time, bub. Don’t know if I’ll last long.” You never thought you’d hear Logan of all people say those words, but it turns you on that you could reduce even a man like Logan to nothing but his most primal needs.

You grin as you wetly kiss down his chest, arching your back so your ass is in the air for Storm.

“So pretty,” she mumbles, lost in her own world as she runs the tip of the dildo through your folds, and you almost lose balance.

Logan’s cock leans against the side of your face as you kiss all the way down to his happy trail, and without further thought, you take him into your mouth. You can still taste a bit of yourself on him.

Storm starts fucking you with the dildo just as you’re getting into going down on Logan, and you pull your mouth off his cock. Somehow the dildo feels bigger in your pussy than it did with your mouth. Storm knows exactly what she’s doing.

“Didn’t realise how big it was,” you say, steadying your hands against Logan’s big thighs as you fuck back against the toy.

“Not bigger than me, bub” Logan grumbles, and you giggle.

“We know, big boy. It’s not a competition,” Storm tells him, and even though you can’t see their faces you know this just became a competition for them. And you really don’t mind the two people you have a crush on competing on who can make you come more often.

“Can I play with your ass, baby?” Storm asks you when you’ve adjusted to the toy in you and you’re back to trying to stuff all of Logan’s cock in your mouth. You moan around his dick.

“What was that, princess?” it’s Logan who asks.

“Yeah, you can,” you turn to face Storm, “But I’ve never done that before.”

“It’s okay. I’ll be gentle. Logan, can you pass me the lube from over there?” Logan ignores her – it’s not on purpose, but you’ve gone back to putting your wet mouth on him and you’re sucking his cock, and it’s hard to focus on anything but your wet mouth.

You pull away and look up at Logan, and he passes the lube after seeing the pretty smile you give him.

“Fuck, bub, so fucking gorgeous,” he says, bringing your face up to his to give you a kiss and then getting up to sit next to Storm.

“Just relax for us, baby,” Storm says, and you’ll never get tired of hearing her call you that.

Logan rubs a hand across your ass cheek, kneading your flesh. He finds his discarded shirt at the edge of the bed, wiping down your inner thighs that are dripping with his cum to try and stop Storm’s sheets from getting too messy.

He runs his hand softly up your spine as Storm squeezes drops of lube onto your ass. Logan’s hand goes back down, settling between your legs to gently play with your clit, not to make you cum but to relax you.

“So pretty,” Storm says absentmindedly as she rubs her thumb over your tight hole.

“Can you come over here?” you ask Logan, feeling weird with both of them at your back. You like having one at each side.

“I’m here, bub,” he sits down in front of you again, lifting your head to rest your cheek on his meaty thigh instead. He gently runs the back of his hand over your other cheek as you sink down into the bed with your upper body.

Storm gently pushes the tip of her finger into your ass, “That feel okay?”

“Feels good,” you hum, letting her go deeper as she simultaneously starts to fuck your pussy with the dildo.

“Such a good girl, hmm?” Logan coos from above you and you sigh in pleasure.

“Doing so well,” Storm tells you, thumb hooked in your ass as she begins to fuck your pussy more roughly. You instinctively start fucking back, your hips moving on their own as you get up on all fours again.

Logan’s biting his lip as he watches you take Storm, hand reaching down to jerk off again, but you shove his hand away. “I wanna,” you pout, wrapping your hand around him.

“‘M not stopping you,” he tells you, sitting back as you make him feel good with your hand.

“I’m close,” you say, suddenly feeling the pleasant pressure between your thighs, looking back at Storm who smirks at your words.

She fucks into you more roughly, the added stimulation by your ass making you tip over the edge. You let go of Logan and grab his thigh to keep your balance as your orgasm flows through you, even better than the previous one.

She pulls out of you slowly, rubbing a hand over your ass cheek.

“Wanna make you cum again,” you turn to Storm.

“Later, baby, come sit on my face,” she says, and how are you meant to resist that?

She lies down on the bed and you straddle her, careful to balance your weight out on your knees rather than on her, “you sure?”

“C’mere,” she says, pulling you down onto her face, and you’re lost in the pleasure of her tongue on your clit for a few moments before you can even open your eyes again. You take Logan by his wrist and make him stand up in front of you so you can keep sucking his cock.

You suck on Logan’s dick as eagerly as Storm’s tongue is on your pussy, spit running down to his balls like it’s running down the side of Storm’s mouth. You hover over her to let her breathe but she pulls you back down.

“Don’t worry about me, I can handle you.”

She sucks on your clit with a new intensity, and you forget all about Logan’s cock as it slips out of your mouth and slides wetly across your cheek. You clumsily stick out your tongue, and Logan chuckles, “So fucked out already, hm?” He jerks off in front of your face, holding you in place. He begins to fuck against the inside of your cheek, filling your mouth with his cock.

You hum, not really listening but simply taking his cock in your mouth as the pleasure builds up inside you when Storm pushes her tongue into you. Her hands are on your ass and she sucks on your clit harder.

Your back arches as you suddenly cum again, cheeks hollowing around Logan’s cock in the process as you suck him in deeper. Storm plays with your clit for a few more moments, lifting you to roll to the side, and your knees sink into the mattress.

“Such a good girl. Y’gonna make me cum again?” Logan says from above, and you look at him with puppy eyes as you take as much of him as you can.

“Been doin’ such a good job all night, baby. You can take him deeper,” Storm says, watching you. You’re going down on Logan but you want her praise too, so you take as much as you can of Logan under both their gazes.

“Fuuuck, baby” Logan groans, his cum spilling down your throat as you swallow him eagerly and he fucks your mouth until he’s finished, the wet sound of his cock in your mouth echoing through the room.

When he’s done coming, Logan lifts you to kiss him, and you know you still taste like him. Storm is on your other side, and you turn to kiss her, both their hands on you as you keep kissing.

You’ve lost count of how many orgasms you’ve each had by the time you collapse in a tired heap of sweat and lust and endorphins.

You’re sandwiched between them, your pussy feeling as warm as your heart.

“Not that it’s a competition but I think I made her come more times than you did,” Logan tells Storm over you.

She props herself up on one elbow, smirking at you, “You wanna tell him?”

You shake your head shyly, looking over to smile at Logan. You’re close to falling asleep, only half registering what they’re saying anyway.

“Helped our beautiful girl calm down before the party last night. Tasted better than the birthday cake.”

Logan smiles, “Can’t even be mad at you, I would’ve done the same.”

They notice you drifting off, pressing gentle kisses to your lips one after the other. You feel Storm’s hand on your face.

“Look how gorgeous our girl is,” Logan says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. Those are the last words you hear before you fall asleep.

Our girl. You like it.

P.S. reblog to get a kiss from Logan and let me know your fav moment/line/whatever to get an even sloppier kiss from Storm 😳🤭 (no but seriously skhksjhg😭, I appreciate every single reblog and comment a lotttt, even if they’re just short <333)

#Logan Howlett x reader #storm x reader #ororo munroe x reader #Logan Howlett x reader x storm #Logan Howlett smut #wolverine x reader x storm #wolverine smut #storm x men smut #x men storm smut #Logan Howlett x you #ororo munroe x you #help these tags are killing me idk what to write lol #wolverine x you #fem!reader #selfcarecap

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buckyalpine · 11 months ago

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40's baby Bucky & baby Reader, Present Bucky x Reader, all the flufff, a lil angst but it just adds to the fluff, promise

Bucky sat under the tree with a very prominent pout on his chubby face, his arms crossed against his chest with his brows pulled together. He wasn't happy. Not one bit. Not after his favorite ball was kicked over a fence by the other neighborhood boys.

"Bucky, do you want to play with me?" You toddled over to your best friend hoping to lift his spirits after seeing him so grumpy only to be met with a huff.

"No! Go play with Stevie instead. Leave me alone!" He frowned, brushing you off and turning his back at you to sulk facing the tree instead.

"But-

"I don't want to play with you" Bucky grumbled. Your bottom lip wobbled, dropping your shoulders as you walked off and sat by yourself under some shade on your porch. You didn't have many friends being the youngest and only little girl on your street; Bucky and Steve being the only two who included you in their games.

"Bucky's mean" You picked up one of your dolls, setting her up beside you while you toyed with a wild flowers, doing your best to keep from sniffling after he shooed you away. You knew he was upset but you wanted to make him feel better!

Of course it didn't take long for Bucky to feel bad, peeking over to see your fallen face sitting all alone on the steps of your house, eyes wet with tears which you were desperately blinking back. He got a bad feeling in his little pudgy belly, knowing he wasn't very nice to you. He knew his ma wouldn't be very happy if she heard how he'd spoken to you, especially after you were just trying to brighten his mood. He got up from his place on the grass, nicking a few flowers from his garden before shuffling over to you only to be met with your now grumpy face, crossing your arms and turning away just like he did.

"I'm sorry y/n" Bucky came and plopped beside you, moving the doll away, while clutching onto a few pink tulips. You didn't respond, still mad at him for being mean to you when you'd done nothing wrong. "C'mon jellybean, pwease?"

His baby blues were shining bright as he gave you his best puppy eyes, hoping you'd forgive him. You felt a giddy at the name he called you, one he'd given you because he thought you were sweet like one. You turned to face him while he gave you a shy little smile, placing the flowers onto your lap.

"I brought you flowers" He stated proudly, happy at the giggle you let out, setting them aside before tugging at his hand to run off and play.

"Y'promise you'll come back?" your eyes were wet with tears again although you were now 20 years older and the chubby boy you grew up with had grown into a very handsome soldier. He stood before you in his clean and pressed uniform, his face shaven, hair neatly cropped.

"Of course doll" He whispered affectionately, letting his thumbs swipe across your cheeks, kissing away the tears that fell. "I'll always come back to you jellybean"

"You better" You sniffled, standing on your toes to chase more of his lips as he pressed them to yours, his hands wrapping around your waist, picking you up with ease.

"M'gonna come right back to you, safe n'sound" He held you for as long as he could, rocking you close to his chest while you fought back a sob, giving him a brave smile instead.

"I love you Jamie"

"I love you jellybean"

That was the last time you saw him.

"This is a bad idea"

"When have I ever had a bad idea" Tony scoffed, continuing to tinker with his quantum portal while Bruce looked over numbers.

"It's not stable enough Tony, if we send someone through this, they could get stuck in an alternate timeline or we could end up changing the future-

"Yea, yea, stop worrying, hand me that spanner"

Bruce sighed, handing over the tool while contemplating on the safest way to test the machine. It wasn't ready to handle anyone actually travelling through time but at the very least they could potentially open portals to the past.

"We gotta put in a location to see if this works-how about-" Tony contemplated on a location, his eyes growing wide with excitement when he spotted Steve's diary that he'd left behind in the lab, "Let's see if Captain has any interesting places from the 40's"

"Why wouldn't you just see if we could get to the compound garden" Bruce groaned while Tony flipped through the pages, typing in an address that had been scribbled in. It was from a list of places Steve wanted to visit again from when he was a child, the address of the person listed under friends. There was only one other person listed there other than Bucky.

"Alright, call the others, let's see if this baby works"

"You're going to get us all killed" Bruce shook his head while calling for everyone to come to the lab. By now everyone was used to Tony's antics; the only one who was genuinely giddy with excitement was surprisingly Bucky. One thing he'd always loved was science; even his stoic expression couldn't hide the twinkle in his eye every time he got to see another Stark experiment.

"Glad you all made it. Now, thanks to Cap, we're going to see if we can open a portal that travels back to the 1940's. I suggest you all stand back since I haven't actually tested this before"

"Why are you like this" Nat snorted while Tony waved her off, pushing a few more buttons before hitting start. Bucky watched from the safe sidelines of the lab as the machine began to vibrate, a low buzz growing louder until a portal roared to life that lead to the inside of someone's home. Bucky and Steve were both stunned from shock seeing a flash of a very familiar living room for no longer than a second before the whole thing closed with a bang and a large puff of smoke in its place.

"Well done Mr. Playboy billionaire dumbass" Sam wheezed while the team was left coughing, the room cloudy as the loud buzz began to dull. "What was the location you even put in-

Sam stopped talking midway when he heard another voice coughing followed by mumbling coming from the place where the portal closed. The smoke hadn't yet dissipated but the shadow of a person was slowly becoming visible. Everyone froze when they realized there was someone on the platform, wondering who could've been sucked through.

"Bruce, turn on the fan-" Bruce hit the lab fan which pulled helped with the smoke revealing a young woman in a flower printed dress. An apron was still tied around her waist, flour streaked across her cheeks, a rolling pin still in her hand. "What the-

"JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES"

Bucky thought he was going to collapse as soon as he saw who was on the platform, his heart fluttering madly in his chest. He couldn't control the blush that crept up on his cheeks, butterflies bursting in his tummy, just as they did all those years ago. The young woman stormed up to the soldier, face full of fury as her palm smacked his cheek (Not hard enough to actually hurt him of course).

"HOW DARE YOU"

Everyone else in the lab silently congregated to one side watching curiously though Steve was still utterly frozen seeing-

"Y-y/n? Doll?"

"Don't you doll me" you whacked his arm with your rolling pin, huffing when it clanged back after hitting metal. That didn't seem to faze you as you switched and hit the other arm instead, making Bucky yelp. "You lied!"

You dropped your makeshift weapon to the floor, moving your hands to your hips instead, looking up and down at the man you loved with your entire heart, the man who you mourned for years after you were told he was dead. He looked much different from when you'd last seen him, the most obvious difference being an entirely new arm. His cheeks were scruffy and it was clear some form of time travel had taken place but none of that mattered. None of that mattered when the love of your life was standing right there, alive and well.

"Oh baby, no-

"Absolutely not Barnes" you huffed at the pet name he gave you, crossing your arms over your chest and Bucky thought he'd melt into an absolute puddle at the sight. He was thrown back to when you were both no more than 4 years old, with a cute little frown on your face whenever you'd get upset. "You left! I thought you-I thought you died!"

The sound of your voice cracking broke Bucky's heart, his hands itching to wrap you up and pull you close to his chest the way you loved. He could see your eyes twinkle with tears threatening to spill out while you rapidly tried to blink them away. You chewed on your bottom lip to keep from wobbling and it only made Bucky yearn to hold you and never let go.

"Sweetheart please, I didn't mean to leave you doll, I promise" He stepped closer to you, hesitantly reaching out to take your hand in his, not feeling the slightest bit conscious about his metal arm. The coolness of his hand calmed your racing heart while you sniffled, still refusing to meet his eyes as you stared down at your feet instead.

The day you'd been told he'd never come back had been the worst day of your life. You wept for months on end, losing the man you were waiting to marry. The only person you'd been in love with since you were 4 years old.

Seeing you standing there before him stirred feelings in Bucky h never thought he'd feel again. Having a home. A beautiful wife. Little chubby babies. All with his dream girl he'd loved all his life. There wasn't a day that had gone by where he didn't think about her. He didn't think he'd ever get the chance again but here you were, dusted in flour like you always were whenever you were in the kitchen, in a pretty dress he loved so much, fighting your cries after desperately missing him. He softly cupped your cheeks, swiping away at your tears, his forehead coming down to softly rest against yours. He smiled through watery eyes at your stubborn nature, still keeping your arms crossed while his nose bumped with yours.

"Jellybean" Bucky whispered, your heart melting at the name, swallowing the lump in your throat, "Please? I-I'll- I'll bring you flowers" He said with a shaky voice, nearly toppling over when you flung yourself into his arms. He caught you, squeezing you right back and lifting you off the floor to cradle you nice and tight before pulling back to smash his lips against yours. The collective sniffles and whistles from the team were drowned out by your soft giggles and warm lips.

"I missed you so much" you buried your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of him, the one that comforted yo the most.

"You have no idea how much I missed you jellybean, never letting you go again"

"Terminator, you wanna introduce us?" Tony was the first to speak up, not so subtly wiping away at his eyes while Bucky continued to look at you with heard eyes, introducing you to everyone. You could only wrap your head around so much at a time but nothing truly mattered now that you were back with your soldier.

And of course your other best friend.

"Steve" You giggled as Steve lifted you up with ease into a tight hug, grinning at his two friends finally getting the life they deserved together.

Seriously imagine how sickeningly cute these two would be. Bucky is so excited to teach you all about the future. He gets to show you how to use all the new technology around the compound. He's so naughty about it too, teasingly telling you he'd be happy to help you in the shower if there's any questions you has about water temperature.

He doesn't waste any time with asking to marry you. Its everything you've ever dreamed of and more considering Tony took the bill and ran. Bucky can't put into words how happy he is finally getting the life he thought was ripped from his hands.

On your wedding night, Bucky spends hours loving on you like there's no tomorrow which is why a few months later, your belly is swollen with your first baby. Bucky is thankful for the future because as excited as he is to start a family, he's scared shitless something could happen to his jellybean.

"Bucky, I'm fine-

"Absolutely not, why are you up Jellybean, go sit down, I'll bring breakfast to you"

"I can still walk y'know-

"Nope. You stay right there, don't move mama, just rest"

When you do have to move around, he's there holding your baby bump, feeling giddy over becoming a dad. He can't wait to meet his little baby that he's made with his dream girl.

After his son is born, he waits for your body to heal but no ones surprised to see you with a new bump not too long after.

Two baby boys are no match for all the avengers but they all happily share their god father and god mother duties.

Your third is a little girl and she's going to be spoiled by everyone.

Somewhere along the way, you get a white fluffy cat.

Bucky's life has never been better.

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bipidin · 2 years ago

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I want to impulse make a Tech cosplay

#found some nice 3d printing files #i can buy fillamemt and print them at school #found someone else who sells the hud screen and the lil light on his glasses #im just #very impulsy rn #tbf i was like this with my luz cosplay and 0 regrets #i need to update her a bit i think #i cosplay beta luz but i want to add some of her newer design into my cosplay

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aemondsbabe · 1 year ago

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Taunt

obviously, i feel very normal and chill about ewan's new performance in saltburn. anyways lmao this is my version of michael gavey from the vibes i got from him in the 5 seconds he's in the trailer! i have no idea if this is accurate to how he is truly portrayed in the movie! if the movie comes out and i'm totally wrong, then i don't care bc i got to have fun writing about a cheeky lil oxford student!!

summary: you're nearly failing statistics and the student your professor asks to tutor you seems to gain a sick satisfaction from seeing you squirm; he hates you...or so think.

pairing: michael gavey x reader

warnings: mature, 18+ (minors, do not enter!!!) no use of Y/N, afab reader, profanity, smut, piv smut, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), dom/sub, brief daddy kink (literally one mention), dirty talk, dumbification, humiliation (only a bit), size kink if you squint, mild angst but happy ending, choking i guess (barely), public sex (they're alone but like it's still public lmao), brief discussions of math -- please let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 10.5k (dear lord)

a/n: baby's first fic omg! if you enjoy this one and want to see more from me, please feel free to send in requests! (GoT, HoTD, Stranger Things, Marvel, etc!)

PRAISE | Taunt Part 2

MAKING AMENDS | Bonus

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!🌟

“Right, so,” Professor Davies began, pulling a thick textbook off the shelf next to his desk, “Since we’ve only just returned from Easter holiday, I thought I’d go easy on you today.”

A few quiet groans could be heard around the room, a couple students turning to look at one another with grimaces; in the few weeks you’ve been in Professor Davies’s class, he’s never once gone easy on you. With a small sigh, you shuffle through your spiral notebook until you come to a blank page.

“D’you think you’ll go to the party this weekend?” Louise whispers, leaning over closer to you as she twirls a pen around in her fingers, “I heard this one is supposed to be fucking insane.”

“Like any of Felix’s parties aren’t insane?” You whisper back, smirking as you doodle a small flower on the corner of a page of paper, “Of course I’ll be there,” you murmur, watching as Professor Davies writes an intricate formula on the chalkboard, “I could really use a break, anyway…I’ve been so stressed recently.”

“Christ…” A boy, in the row of desks in front of you scoffs, just barely shaking his head as he copies down the formula, his handwriting sharp and choppy. You feel blood rush to your cheeks as you narrow your eyes, staring intently at his sandy hair. You didn’t really know him, this being your only class with him, but you’d seen him around campus, regularly passing by him in the halls. Oxford may be a large university, but when you’re on campus everyday, you begin recognizing familiar faces.

He didn’t run in the same crowds as you at all, and you got the distinct impression that he looked down on you and the rest of your friends, but you knew his name – Michael and that he was incredibly smart, his hand promptly shooting into the air anytime Professor Davies asked a question. In the few weeks you’d been in the same statistics class, you had yet to see him get a question wrong, watching as he grinned, cocky, everytime he was praised for correctly solving even the most intricate of formulas.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t be more the opposite, always shying away and praying not to hear Professor Davies call your name in his deep, baritone voice every time his eyes scanned the crowd, looking for a volunteer, or victim, more like. While Michael clearly enjoyed the class, practically glowing with an arrogant confidence as soon as he walked into the wood paneled lecture hall, you were simply here to check it off as a requirement of your major, hoping to survive the class with a C and nothing more.

It was annoying, you wouldn’t deny that, the way that smug smirk seemed to be permanently etched onto his face, how that stupid taunting glimmer was an ever-present fixture of his blue eyes — blue eyes which, seemingly, always managed to find their way to you, one way or another.

His attention was intimidating at first, his cold stare leaving you unsure of what exactly his intention was. Was he trying to challenge you? Trying to determine if he knew you from somewhere else? A small part of you, a naive part, hoped that his staring was meant to be affectionate; he was cute, you’d admit it! Always showing up to class in cozy knit sweaters, his wavy hair still ruffled and untidy as if he’d just gotten out of bed, gold rimmed glasses perched atop a strong nose.

You quickly tear your gaze away from the back of Michael’s head, biting your bottom lip as you begin copying down the problem on the chalkboard, pausing briefly when you see, from the corner of your eye, his head turn as he glances at you over his shoulder. You felt your cheeks flush despite yourself, that small, sanguine voice in the back of your head cheering.

“Now, then,” Professor Davies booms, dropping the textbook down on his desk with a cacophonous thud before sweeping his eyes across the classroom, “A bit of review before we really dive in…” He continues, pacing around the front of the room as he explains the various parts and pieces of the equation on the board.

“What do you think you’ll wear?” Louise asks, leaning over once more to whisper in your ear, you can smell her signature floral perfume on her hair, “I was thinking I’d do that new blue-ish dress I got, you know, the strappy one?”

“Might still be too cold for strappy,” you whisper back, half listening to the professor drone on as you continue doodling on your paper, pausing every few minutes to jot down a few haphazard notes, “I was just thinking I’d do a jumper, probably a skirt and tights–”

Suddenly, you hear Professor Davies call your name, your cheeks practically stinging as blood rushes to your face. Sitting up straighter, you finally find the courage to meet his stern gaze, “Since you seem all too eager to share your thoughts,” He continues slowly stalking towards you across wooden floorboards that softly creak beneath his feet, “Would you care to enlighten us with the solution to the quadratic equation on the board?” He comes to a stop, hands clasped behind his back as he patiently waits for you to answer, a small, knowing smile poised on his lips.

“I– uhm, well,” you stutter, glancing back and forth between your barely there notes and the chalkboard, throat growing tighter as you feel everyone's eyes on you, “Don’t you need to solve for G first?”

“And how would you go about doing that?”

“Well, you would…” You trail off, desperately trying to remember the lessons you’d had before Easter holiday, absentmindedly picking at your cuticle as you pray to be anywhere but here or for a hole to open in the floor and swallow you whole, “I…I don’t recall, professor. I’m sorry.” You finally say, not being able to meet his gaze as you stare intently at your lap, desperately willing yourself not to cry, even as you feel your eyes stinging.

“Perhaps, in the future, it would be of benefit to socialize with your friends outside of my classroom.” Professor Davies admonishes, giving a sharp glare to Louise as well, who manages an apologetic smile. “Yes, Professor.” You whisper, keeping your eyes downturned.

Finally, you hear the floorboards softly creaking once more as Professor Davies makes his way back up to the podium at the front of the room and once again resumes his lecture. You can’t help but pause for a second when you hear a small snicker from the tall boy in front of you, sensing as he peers at you over his shoulder once again.

“Would anyone else like to take a crack at the problem on the board?” Professor Davies asks, leaning against the old, worn podium at the front of the room. Like clockwork, Michael’s hand shoots into the air. Somehow, that makes you blush even harder.

Eventually, Professor Davies finishes his lecture and retrieves his dark leather briefcase from under the desk, pulling a thick stack of papers out and sitting them on the podium, leaning over it with a sigh, “I have your tests graded. Most of you did very well, you should be pleased with yourselves. Some of you, however,” He says pointedly, “Could benefit greatly from a closer study of the material.”

Slowly, he walks around the room passing back tests, throwing out a comment here and there as he did so. You already know you hadn't done well on that particular test and dread getting it back and confirming your suspicions, so you keep yourself busy, choosing to meticulously pack up your things instead.

“Mr. Gavey,” he said a few feet away from you, papers rustling as he slid the test across the wooden surface of the long bench desks, “Once more, an outstanding job! Top of the class, keep it up.”

“Thank you, Professor,” you glance up, watching as he takes the paper with a humble nod, that same, oh-so pleased smile gracing his angular face. He must sense you looking at him and quickly shifts his gaze in your direction, eyes glimmering with self-satisfaction behind his gold-rimmed glasses as his smile quickly turns into a smirk. Finally, you tear your gaze away from his with a small, bewildered huff. Why did he seem to get so much satisfaction from besting you, of all people? It’s not like you were exactly an academic threat.

“Ms. Bickerstaff,” Professor Davies says, finally appearing next to the table you and Louise sat at, “Not bad, a bit more effort next time and you’re sure to be on track,” he remarks, sliding her paper across the desk. Louise thanks him with a small smile as she flips through her test, eyes scanning over his marks.

Finally, Professor Davies stands before you once again, your paper the very last in his hands. You hear him mutter your last name before he slides the paper across the desk to you, and you can’t help but deflate as you see your grade; you knew it would be bad, but that? How on Earth were you going to recover your average? What if you had to retake the whole course? What if you failed out of Oxford entirely? Your parents had sacrificed so much to help you get here, spending years and untold amounts of money on private tutors and extracurricular materials, all to help you have an impressive application! Not to mention the money just for the course fees! Unlike most of your friends, you didn’t come from piles and piles of money and status – your family was alright, sure, but you were definitely several tax brackets below them.

As your thoughts spiraled, you felt Louise elbow you in the side at the same time you heard Professor Davies address you again. Shaking your head to clear your scattered thoughts, you clear your throat and finally turn to look up at him, “Sorry, yes, Professor?”

“As I was saying,” Professor Davies continues, tapping the papers in front of you, “I would like to discuss your performance with you today, after class. Please meet me at the front of the room before you go.”

“Yes, sir.” you mumble dejectedly, nodding as you quickly flip the test over, embarrassed at the thought of anyone else seeing your grade.

“I’ll see you later, babes,” Louise says a few minutes later as everyone is clearing out of the room, “Good luck!” She whispers, giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder before making her way to the door.

“Thanks!” you smile weakly, swallowing the lump in your throat before picking up your things and heading to the front of the room. The afternoon sun is already getting lower in the sky, beams of light shining into the room, bathing rectangular swaths of the floor in bright, golden light and highlighting motes of dust as they scatter in the air. Only a few students are left in the classroom, some of them finishing up notes while others type out quick texts. As you walk by his desk, you notice Michael scribbling down notes in his planner.

You shuffle your feet nervously as you stand in front of the sizable oak desk that your professor sits at, watching as he adds a sticky note to the top of another stack of papers, “You wanted to see me, Professor?”

“Ah, yes!” He says, looking up at you over his glasses. He quickly caps his pen and stands, walking around the desk to stand in front of you, “I know this class has been quite the challenge,” he begins, leaning against the desk, “But, I think I’ve found a solution for you.”

“You have?” You ask, tilting your head in confusion.

“I think you could benefit greatly from a tutor, perhaps a peer who could explain the material to you in a different way,” he continues, “And I have just the student in mind.” Instantly, you feel a pit beginning to form in your stomach, biting your bottom lip as you watch Professor Davies motion for someone behind you to come up to the desk, “Mr. Gavey, if you could join us up here, please.”

You freeze when you feel him saunter up beside you, eyeing him out of the corner of your eye. He was so much taller than you, your head barely grazing his shoulder, as he came to a stop next to you, standing casually with his backpack slung over one shoulder.

Professor Davies once again turns his attention to you, motioning to Michael as he speaks, “Mr. Gavey here is one of my most capable students,” you can’t help but notice him stand up straighter at the comment, growing somehow even taller, “I’ve taken the liberty of asking him if he would be so kind as to assist you with some of the course work and he agreed.” You freeze a little at that, stunned that he would be so quick to help you when he seems to relish any opportunity to make you squirm. “I’ve given it some thought,” the professor continues, fixing you with a stern gaze, “And I’m willing to let you make corrections to your test and resubmit it for half credit.”

“Oh, thank you so much, prof–”

“However,” he adds, crossing his arms over his chest, “This will be the only time I do so. From now on, I suggest you see Mr. Gavey here on a regular basis; the material is only going to get more challenging as we begin this next unit.”

“Of course, professor. Thank you again.” You respond quietly, shifting uneasily as you stand between the two men.

“Right, well, now that’s sorted,” Professor Davies says, clapping his hands together once as he turns and makes his way back over to the desk chair, sitting down with a tired sigh, “I trust the two of you can come to an agreement upon when and where to meet. I’ll see you again Monday, have a pleasant weekend.” He says, waving his hand dismissively as he goes back to organizing his papers.

The two of you murmur your goodbyes before making your way into the hall, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as he follows you out of the classroom. Eventually, you come across a small alcove in the hallway; finally turning to face him, you let your eyes sweep up his body, finally coming to meet his blue eyes, slightly hidden behind the glare of the hallway lights on his glasses.

“So,” you clear your throat and shift on your feet awkwardly, “Uh, what time works for you? I really can’t do Saturdays–” you begin, only to be cut off.

“Shame,” Michael sighs dismissively, a smirk pulling at one corner of his mouth, “Saturday is the only day that works for me.”

The tone of his voice and the mirthful glint in his eyes makes you very much doubt that, your gaze narrowing, “Okay, well Saturday’s are the only day I have off,” you huff, only growing more annoyed as the stupid smirk on his face grows with satisfaction, no doubt pleased that he’s being a nuisance, “Besides, I super can’t tomorrow, anyway. I already promised my friends I’d come with them to this party tha–”

“Oh, I know about your little party,” Michael scoffs, “Trust me, love, the whole damn class heard about that stupid fucking party with the way you lot were running your mouths earlier,” he chuckles coldly, continuing in an exaggerated high-pitched voice, one hand coming up to mime twirling a lock of hair, “Oooooh, it’s so cold, can’t wear the fuckin’ strappy dress, gotta wear me jumper and little slutty skirt, la-dee-dah.” He finishes with a final huff of laughter.

“What is your deal with me?!” You finally snap, glaring at him, even as you feel your face redden, “You’ve been a dick all semester and I haven’t done anything to you! I’ve never even talked to you!” Glancing around the empty hallway, you cross your arms over your chest, praying no one’s in earshot to hear your hissed tirade.

“I might not know you but I know plenty about your little friends,” he sneers, shaking his head like a disappointed father; the sight makes your blood boil.

“What does that even mean?” You demand, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. What did your friends have to do with any of this? None of them ever spoke about Michael, none of them even knew him as far as you were aware.

His face softens, if only for a moment, as he registers the genuine confusion on your face, smirk faltering as his eyes narrow. He leans in closer to you as he begins speaking again and you can’t help but get a brief smell of the cologne he wears, something warm and woodsy that makes you think of a bookshop and the smell of the forest after it rains, “Come on,” he starts, blue eyes flitting between both of yours as he looks at you intently, “Felix Catton? You and your little friend, the one from class, you go around with him, yeah?”

You nod, giving him another puzzled look, confused as to what the hell Felix has to do with any of his disdain, “Yeah,” you say slowly, drawing out the word, “But, what does he have to do with anything?”

Michael huffs once more, almost laughing to himself as he shakes his head, burying his hands in the pockets of his jeans, “See, we went to school together, him and I – some of primary, all of secondary,” he shrugs, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he traps you in his gaze once again, “And I just don’t fucking like the guy. Can’t stand him, never could’ve.”

You’re silent for a second, and now it’s your turn to flick your eyes back and forth, searching each of his for some sort of coherent answer and yet you come up empty. “But, what does that have to do with me?” You ask slowly, making sure to carefully enunciate each word.

“Don’t trust the people around him either,” he mutters, gazing down at his shoe, “Weirdos, the whole lot. There’s something…off about the guy. Can’t put my finger on it, but there’s something dark there, all around him. Like he’s putting on one big show. All his little gremlins do too, they all act the same.”

The two of you are silent for a moment, neither knowing quite what to say next. You chance a glance up at him, nearly gasping when you find him already gazing at you – an unreadable expression on his face. Yet a light blush still blooms on your cheeks as you quickly look away once again, your heart thudding so loudly you’re wondering if he can hear it – hell, you’re wondering why you’re reacting this way at all, why you’re so shy and skittish around him.

“M’not like that,” you very nearly whisper, finally seeming to regain your voice. Only to lose it once again when he takes a half step toward you, suddenly crowding you further into the small alcove.

He makes a small noise, damn near cooing at you, tilting his head to the side when he notices you flinch as he raises an arm, gently raising your chin with one hand, angling your head up to meet his gaze, that signature smirk once again taking hold on his face as he looks at you curiously, “You’re not like that, are you?” He asks, his voice low and raspy.

You quickly shake your head, blinking up at him, unsure of what exactly he wants from you. You feel your cheeks stinging for the umpteenth time today with how hard you’re blushing, a strange feeling taking root in your stomach the longer you stare at him, that small voice in your head positively cheering.

But, as quickly as whatever spell he seems to have on you takes hold, it’s broken as he suddenly lets go of your chin and steps back, casually pursing his lips and nodding to himself, coming to some unknown decision in his head, “Meet me in Bodleian, tomorrow at five. There’s hardly anyone up on the third floor on the weekends, so we'll be able to focus.” He says simply, turning on his heel to leave without even giving you a second to answer.

“But I’m bus–”

“D’you want a good grade or do you want to go get drunk with your creepy gremlin friends?” He asks, peering over his shoulder as he saunters down the hallway, raising an eyebrow at you over the shiny gold rim of his glasses, “S’your call, love.” He finishes with a shrug, disappearing as he turns a corner and leaves you standing there alone, frowning and dumbstruck.

“Bodleian at five it is,” you mutter to yourself, sighing as you turn and walk the opposite way, desperately trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach and the fog in your brain.

Your shoes tap against the stone pavement as you walk up to the old library, backpack slung over one shoulder; reaching into a pocket of your backpack, you blindly grab for your phone as you pull open one of the heavy, old wooden doors and step into the atrium. Out of all of Oxford’s libraries, you had to admit that Bodleian was one of your favorites; it had such a soothing atmosphere – from the way the evening light trickled in through the old glass windows, to the intricate wooden decor, and the way the entire place smelled of the old, well-loved books that lined the countless rows of shelves.

Stepping to the side of the entryway, you check the time, your hand shaking a bit as you unlock your phone – 4:53pm, a little early, still. Sighing, you crane your head, nervously looking for Michael. Not seeing him, you decide to bide your time examining one of the tall bookshelves near the entrance, eyes skimming over their titles as you fiddle with the strings of the hoodie you’d decided to wear. Smiling, you lean up on your tiptoes to grab a copy of The Two Towers, happy to see a familiar book. Just as your fingers graze over the embossed gold lettering on the spine of the book, a large pair of hands grab you by the shoulders.

“Boo!” Someone whispers, close enough that you feel the warmth of their breath on the side of your neck.

You spin around with a small shriek, jerking your head to the side when a hand is suddenly clasped over your mouth.

“Shh! Hey, relax!” Finally managing to focus on the face in front of you, your breathing slows as your gaze meets a pair of round blue eyes. Michael’s face is only inches from yours, concern evident, even behind the mask of a smirk he wears. “It’s only me.” He says softly, smirk softening into a genuine smile that sends a frantic tingle down your spine, which you desperately try to ignore as you nod against his hand, gasping in a small breath as it lowers once again to rest on your shoulder.

“Hi.” Blinking up at him, you breathe the word more so than say it as you settle back on your feet, cheeks flushing as you realize he has his other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you forward ever so slightly, like he wanted to make sure your head didn’t hit the sharp edge of one of the shelves; the voice in your head purrs as the butterflies in your stomach summersalt.

“Hi.” He answers and you feel the hand on your shoulder twitch, the ghost of a comforting squeeze or rub causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand on end as some strange, warm weight settles in the pit of your stomach.

Suddenly, whatever spell the two of you seemed to be under broke and you quickly clambered away from one another. Michael cleared his throat, running a hand through his wheat colored hair as you tugged at the sleeves of your hoodie, trying to look anywhere but in his direction. “Should we–” He starts suddenly, nodding his head to a staircase at the other end of the room, “It’ll be quieter up there.”

“Sure!” You chirp, giving him a curt nod, “Lead the way, you seem to know the place better than I do.”

“Well,” he chuckles, keeping his voice low as he moves past you, “S’what happens when you don’t spend all your damn time at weirdo parties.”

You roll your eyes behind him, huffing as you start following him up the staircase, one of your hands gliding across the smooth, polished wood of the bannister.

“Sorry.” He says suddenly as you reach the third floor of the library, running a hand through his hair once again as he stands at the top of the staircase.

“What?” You ask, coming to a stop on the last step and looking up at him, tilting your head to the side as you lean against the handrail.

“For earlier,” he explains, gesturing for you to follow him as he starts making his way to the back corner of the large, open space, the one furthest from the stairs, “Scaring you, I mean. Didn’t mean to.”

You’re quiet for a moment, following him as the two of you walk past aisle after aisle of towering bookshelves. The area is definitely quieter than the main floor, nearly vacant aside from one or two lone students sitting at the long wooden study tables. It’s calm up here, evening light filtering in through large windows on either end of the long room, casting large shadows on the floor and vaulted ceilings.

Eventually, the two of you come to a stop at a table, the very last in its row, tucked away in a corner. “It’s alright,” you shrug, trying to keep your voice soft in the quiet space as you sit your backpack on the edge of the table, “I don’t know why I’m so jumpy today, maybe the tea from earlier.” You lie, hopefully smoothly, and quickly grab a pen and notebook as well, before sitting down.

Michael huffs to himself as he sits his things out on the table as well, like he’s laughing at a joke you can’t hear, “Maybe it’s all that tension.”

“Wh– tension?” You question, cringing at the urgency in your voice as you pray that he doesn’t pick up on it, shifting in your seat as he pulls out the chair next to you and plops down, completely relaxed as if he owns the place.

“The stress? That you were meant to be working out at Catton’s?” He gives you an odd look, resting his head against his hand as he leans his elbow on the table, “Couldn’t help but overhear your little conversation yesterday.”

“Oh…” You breathe, a pink haze settling over your cheeks once more as you fidget with your pen, acutely aware of how easily he seems to be able to make you blush.

The smirk on his face widens as he narrows his eyes, studying you in a way that makes your heart squeeze, your thighs clenching together as that heady weight from earlier makes itself known again in your stomach, “You can’t keep one thought in that head, can you, love?”

You blink, unsure of what to say, as two halves of your brain argue with one another. Why is he so mean? You wonder to yourself, eyes searching his, as you frown, And…God, why do I like it?

“Why don’t you like me?” You ask, finally breaking the silence with your small voice.

He scoffs again, shaking his head as if the answer should be obvious to you, “You don’t take it seriously. You come to class and whisper and gossip with your damn friend or doodle in your little notebook, but you don’t fucking listen.” He sits back up, frowning, “I work hard every fucking day in there, for fuck’s sake, I only agreed to help you because I want to be Davies’s teaching assistant next year! Yet you and Catton and everyone like you can just pay their way in here, collecting a little diploma from Oxford just so their parents can brag about it with their stupid fucking rich friends.” He finally finishes, turning his head to stare out the window.

“Told you, I’m not like that,” you whisper after a moment, voice wavering from the tightness in the back of your throat, “I’m here on scholarship, same as you.”

His eyes flit back to you, his frown deepening, “How did you know ab–”

“Like I’m not going to ask around about the guy tutoring me?”

“Fair enough.” He concedes after a minute.

Silence settles over the two of you again, like a stalemate, waiting to see who would crack first. Finally, you turn to him with a sigh, nodding to your test paper on the desk, “Can we just get this done? I don’t want to be here any more than you do.”

“Ah, of course,” he nods as he picks up your test, looking over the first incorrect problem, “Catton’s big important party. And you’re stuck here with a loser like me; must really be doing your head in, huh?”

You want so badly to correct him, to tell him that no, actually, for once, you were kind of excited to not be at one of Felix’s parties. You wanted to tell him that you’d hoped things would be different, maybe if it was just the two of you he would drop the arrogant asshole bit, that you stupidly hoped it was just an act.

Instead, you bite your lip, determined not to lash out and give him another reason to dislike you, “I don’t think you’re a loser, Michael,” you say, tiredly meeting his gaze, “Can we just focus on this now, please?”

He’s quiet for a moment, frozen like you’d said something groundbreaking. Finally, he nods his head, almost imperceptibly like he’d come to a decision you weren’t privy to, “Sure,” he says gruffly, grabbing your test and reading over the first incorrect problem, “S’not like I’m the one failing.” He finishes, his voice tight and determined, like he knew it was something he’d regret saying even as the words left his mouth.

See? You think silently, pointed words aimed at that stupid voice in your head, Told you so.

It’s barely an hour later and you already feel cross-eyed, groaning as Michael flips your test over to the next page and you see you’re only just now halfway done correcting the ones you’d gotten wrong. You hate to admit it to yourself, but his tutoring was helping — problems that you’d hardly been able to finish the first time seem far less daunting as he explains them to you. Even he seems less daunting as the hour goes on; shockingly, he doesn’t make anymore snide comments and you can tell that he genuinely enjoys talking about the subject, patiently helping you through each problem.

“Can we take a break?” You grumble, laying your head down on top of your textbook.

“What?” He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he checks his watch, “It’s hardly been an hour and you’re ready to give up?”

“‘M not giving up,” you mumble, “I just think we could use a little break…” You say hopefully, looking at him with a small smile. When he doesn’t break, holding your gaze with a frown, you sigh, “Just, like, ten minutes, please?”

You want to groan again when you see that formidable smirk make its home on his lips again, “Say please again.” He commands, his voice low.

“Huh?” You balk, nearly dropping your phone as you retrieve it from your pocket.

“Say please again,” he says slowly, his smirk only growing wider as he watches your cheeks redden, “Beg.”

“W-why?” You question, face burning as you try your damndest to look unbothered by his request.

He shrugs dismissively, “Makes you squirm,” he answers finally, leaning back in his chair, “I like that.”

“Why?” Your voice is so small you doubt he’d even know you spoke if his eyes weren’t fixed on you.

He hums, a satisfied noise, like you’ve finally managed to meander into a trap he’d set ages ago, “S’fucking cute,” he huffs out a laugh when he sees your eyes widen, “Makes you blush and act all dumb.”

You know you should be offended, but you can’t find it within yourself to care, “You think I’m cute?”

He chuckles, sighing, “That’s what you choose to focus on?”

“Do you?”

“Fine, yes.”

“Please, Michael,” you say suddenly, the words feeling practically punched from your throat, “Please, please can we have a break? Please, only ten minutes?” You beg, breathing hard as you quickly scan the room, shoulders relaxing when you don’t see anyone else sitting at the study tables.

You see the way his eyes widen behind his glasses, like he can’t believe you actually did it, before they narrow once more, overtaken by a satisfied gleam, “Ten minutes.” He says simply, leaning back in his chair yet again, letting his head flop back, relaxed, and closes his eyes.

You don’t move for a second, letting your eyes study the side of his face, looking over his sharp jawline and the curve of his nose. After a moment, you look away, deciding to pull out your phone.

A few minutes go by as you answer a few texts from Louise, telling her that you miss her too and how you wish you were at the party — a lie, though you can’t find it within yourself to care. You busy yourself for a while longer, watching a few people's Instagram stories, the volume on your phone muted as you watch your friends dance under colorful strobe lights, blowing smoke at the camera and clinking drinks together.

“I meant what I said.” You say finally, laying your phone on the table and picking at one of your cuticles.

“Hm?” Michael questions, not bothering to open his eyes.

“I don’t think you’re a loser,” you answer, fidgeting, “I never have. I think you’re…intriguing.”

“Intriguing?” He asks, finally sitting up and looking at you with a questioning stare, “How so?”

You swallow, tucking your hair behind your ear with a shrug, “You’re smart…you know you’re smart,” you start, voice small and shaky, “I like that.”

“You like that or you like me?” He’s looking at you like a cat playing with a helpless mouse, looking at you like he knows he’s already won a game you don’t even know the two of you are playing.

“You.” It comes out as a breath.

He doesn’t answer and eventually you look away from him, choosing to stare out the window at the streetlights outside, the sky dark.

Finally, the silence becomes overbearing and you break first again, “Thank you,” you smile at him, keeping your voice low even though you know the rest of the floor is vacant, even though the noise of the floors below has drastically faded over the last hour, “For helping me, I mean. You probably have a dozen things you’d rather do on a Saturday.”

He stays quiet for a few seconds, “I didn’t really have anything better to do,” he smirks, “No parties.”

“None?”

“Never,” he shakes his head, shrugging, “Don’t get invited.”

“Oh,” you answer simply, “Well, still, either way, thank you.” You smile again, but it falters when he leans forward suddenly, crowding into your space with a sly grin, so close that you can feel his breath on your neck.

“I know a way you could repay me, love,” he whispers lowly into your ear, your hair standing on end, “Only if you want to, of course.” He adds, his long fingers toying with a strand of your hair.

Your eyes grow comically wide as you process what he just said, “H-how do you want me to repay you?” You whisper, your eyes finally meeting his.

He laughs softly, letting go of the strand of your hair to rest his hand lightly against the side of your face, his thumb skimming over your cheek as he watches a rosy hue settle across it, “I can think,” he starts, thumb moving lower to skate across your bottom lip, slightly tugging the skin with it, “Of one very fucking good way to put this mouth to use, love.”

You part your lips slightly, letting the tip of his thumb into your mouth, just barely holding it between your teeth as you lightly run your tongue over it, heart skipping a beat at the way his lips just barely part in shock as you do. The voice in your head purrs again, roaring back to life, and you nod, smiling around his finger.

“Yeah?” He questions, smirking as he watches your lips twitch around his thumb, “”Y’wanna?”

“Yes.” You reply around his thumb, your hands coming up to hold onto his forearm, the fabric of his rust colored sweater soft under your hands.

“Beg.” He commands again, eyes twinkling.

You take in a breath, eyes slipping shut as your thighs clench around nothing – missing the way Michael glances down at the movement, a knowing grin forming on his face, “Please, Michael.” You practically whine.

“Ooh,” he coos, finally moving his thumb from your mouth, only to trail his hand down your neck, lightly resting it against your throat, “I think you can do better than that, pretty. Open your eyes and damn beg.”

You follow his orders, a small whimper skirting past your lips at the new pet name as you open your eyes, “Please, Michael, please let me repay you, let me thank you, please.” The words tumble out, your eyes wide and pleading.

“How’re you planning on doing that, empty headed little thing?” He taunts, the hand around your throat just barely tightening but it’s enough to make you let out a small, desperate whine. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, moving close enough to you that the front of his chest is plastered to your side, his heart beating against your shoulder, “Ask for what you want, beg properly.” His breath fans across the side of your face again, the feeling of his lips brushing over the side of your jaw making you jump.

“Please, God, Michael,” you whine, squeezing your legs together so hard you’re surprised they haven’t fused together, “P-please let me suck your cock — to thank you, thank you for helping me.” You add quickly, breath shaky as you turn your head to look at him imploringly.

He chuckles, but he looks pleased as he leans back momentarily, craning his neck to make sure there isn’t anyone around, “Alright, alright, love,” he soothes, coming back to face you, nodding his head to the empty space in front of his hair, below the table, “Not God, but I’ll give you what you want.” He teases.

Your breath catches in your throat as you look down at the floor beneath the desk, then back up at him before nodding, “Yes, sir.” You push yourself off your chair, sliding down beneath the desk.

“Goddammit,” you hear him groan above you, running his palms over his thighs as he parts them, making room for you, “Keep that up, love, might even give you extra credit.”

You rest your palms against the tops of his thighs as you move between his legs, getting comfortable on your knees, the old wooden floor cool against your skin, even through your black leggings. Finally, your eyes settle on the sizable bulge, covered by his dark jeans, and you can’t help the small whine that leaves your lips. Slowly, you move your hands up to the button of his pants, quickly popping it open and dragging the zipper down, smiling when Michael sighs above you as he pulls his sweater up out of the way, exposing the pale skin of his stomach. You let your eyes roam over him, warmth settling between your legs as you spot the dusting of light hair that starts beneath his belly button and leads downwards, disappearing under his plaid boxers.

You move closer to him, crowding in between his long legs, as you hook your fingers over the tops of his boxers, before finally looking up at him, “Can I…?” You ask, nodding to where his cock is straining against the fabric.

“Don’t be shy now, princess,” he groans, running a hand through your hair as he stares down at you, “Get on with it.”

You keep your eyes on his as you pull his boxers down, just enough to free his cock, watching the way his chest heaves as he lets out another relieved sigh. Finally, you tear your gaze away from his as you look at his cock, gasping in a breath as you do. As far as dicks go, Michaels is impressive, beautiful even – long and thick with veins running up the underside, leading up to a flushed, leaking tip.

You take him in your hand tentatively, squeezing him lightly around the base, your confidence growing when he grunts, breathing heavier. Finally, you lightly lick the tip, eyes sliding closed at the pleasant, salty taste of his pre-cum. You take the tip of him in your mouth, humming around him when his fingers tighten in your hair, lightly pushing on the back of your head, silently urging you to take more of him.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he roughly groans, managing to keep his voice low, “Knew that pretty fucking mouth was good for something.” He moves his hips, impatiently thrusting his cock an inch deeper into your mouth, breathily cursing under his breath.

You start bobbing your head up and down over his length, taking more and more of him into your mouth, more of his pre-cum leaking onto your tongue as you feel his dick throb and twitch in your hand. After a moment, you take a deep breath through your nose and remove your hand, resting it on his thigh, as you take him all the way to the base, your nose nestled in the short patch of hair there as you breathe in his heady scent, your eyes glazing over as you savor the feeling of him at the back of your throat.

“Jesus!” He grunts, louder than he meant to, keeping your head in place as he thrusts his hips up again, keeping you in place at the base of his cock, “Fuck, that’s it,” he praised lowly, your center throbbing, no doubt leaking onto the fabric of your leggings, “Look at me, wanna see your eyes while I fuck your throat.”

You whine, desperately blinking back tears as you look up at him, trying to keep your breathing even. You hold his gaze as you stick your tongue out, licking lower, down toward his balls, relishing the way his eyes roll back as you do, stomach muscles twitching as he continues thrusting his hips up into your mouth, soaking his boxers and jeans with your spit.

“Oh, fuck, that’s it,” he groans, looking down at you, his eyelids heavy, “God, yeah, cry on my cock love. Fuck, you look so pretty crying on my cock.” He mumbles, talking to himself more so than you.

His words send a shiver down your spine, adding to the heat in your center, and you whimper when he finally moves his hand from the back of your head, allowing you to come up for air. You do, with a gasp, thin strings of spit connecting your reddened lips with the flushed head of his cock. You keep your eyes on his as you wrap your lips around him once more, running your tongue along the thick vein on the underside before sucking at the swollen tip, relishing the way it makes him clench his jaw and gasp through his teeth as you stroke the rest of him with your hand.

Above you, he smirks again, gently running his hand through your hair but making no move to press your head down again. He cocks his head to the side, studying you, grinning at the far-off, foggy look in your eyes, “Not a thought in that pretty head, is there?” He asks, bringing his hand down and gently patting your cheek; the ghost of a slap making your thighs clench, making your head dizzy with need.

You nod around him, moving your head up and down along his length. You feel yourself throbbing with need, pulsing with heat; almost automatically, your hand starts to wander, a small sigh escaping you as your hand presses against your center through your leggings. You feel a warmth settle across your cheeks again as you feel your own wetness, leaking through the fabric just as you’d suspected. You whimper as you press down again, your eyes falling shut as you let your hips grind against your fingers, the wet fabric creating a delicious friction against your clit.

Which you get to feel for all of five seconds before Michael is suddenly yanking your head from his length, causing you to yelp as he tugs your hair. “Did I say you could touch your cunt?”

“N-no,” you whine pathetically, eyes watering from the harsh hold he has on your hair, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t think—“ You try to explain, only for him to cut you off with another harsh tug, making you mewl.

“That’s a pattern with you, isn’t it?” He asks, looking at you with a condescending smirk, studying you again, “You were being such a good girl earlier, what happened? Hm?” He questions, pushing his chair back enough to pull you out from under the table.

You get to your feet, suddenly feeling shy in front of him once again despite having his cock in your mouth mere moments ago. “I…got distracted.” You answer finally.

“I got distracted….who?” He asks, looking up at you expectantly over the rims of his glasses.

“I got distracted, sir,” you quickly correct yourself, eyes frantically scanning the still vacant floor of the library, “I’m sorry.”

“That’s much better, love,” he drawls, placing his hands on your hips, “Now, what could’ve been so fucking distracting, huh?” He starts moving his hands, slowly, toward your center, still looking up at you, his eyes questioning. You nod your head, just barely but enough for him to understand, and any hesitancy from him quickly disappeared. “Could it be this, I wonder?” He questions sardonically, suddenly cupping your heat in his large hand, the warmth of it nearly making your knees buckle, even through the thin fabric of your leggings. He hums, the sound low in his chest, when he feels how much you’ve soaked the fabric,

“Oh,” you whimper, grabbing at his shoulders to keep yourself balanced as his fingers continue to tease you, rubbing circles into your clit, “Oh my God, fuck.”

“Christ,” he breathes, staring up at you with dark eyes, “So fucking wet, love, holy hell. Did you get this way just from sucking my cock?”

“Yeah,” you whine, nodding your head desperately as you try to swallow all the small noises you want to make in your throat, your hips rutting against his hand, “Please, sir!”

“Oh, so now that dumb brain has no trouble remembering damn instructions, huh?” He taunts, a wicked grin on his face as his fingers rub your clit in smaller, harsher circles, making you see stars, “Need your wet little cunt played with to be able to do as you're told?”

You nod your head frantically, tears nearly spilling from your eyes at the zaps of pleasure radiating from you, your walls clenching around nothing. Just as you feel yourself about to tip over the edge, he stops, jerking his hand away from you with a knowing chuckle, “W-what?” You question, eyes blinking open, “I was so close!” You whine, nearly stamping your foot on the floor like a petulant child.

“Told you,” Michael shrugs, pulling you to sit in his lap, your back against his chest as he wraps his arms around you. His breath tickles the side of your neck and face when he speaks again, “You’re so fun to tease, love, can’t help myself.”

You wiggle in his grasp, making him groan as your ass grinds against his hard length, desperately trying to get your hands free to touch your pussy again, nearly out of your mind with need. “P-please, sir, please touch me!” You finally gasp out, knowing he won’t give in until you do.

“Now there’s a good girl,” he says, voice pleased and cocky as he plants kisses along the side of your neck, “Since you asked so nicely…” He says, letting go of one of your arms, letting you grasp the arm still wrapped around you with your hands, as his free hand skirts down your stomach to the top of your leggings, pausing long enough for you to nod again, before he finally touches you.

You whimper, jerking in his lap at the feel of his warm fingers directly on your heat for the first time, spreading your wet folds with a satisfied hum. His long fingers move down to your entrance, gathering some of the wetness there, “You’re so fucking wet,” he marvels, dragging his fingers up to your aching clit, “Fucking dripping on my fingers.” He murmurs in your ear, nipping at the side of your neck and sending tingles down your spine as he starts rubbing tight, wet circles against your bud.

You tilt your head back, resting it against his shoulder as your chest heaves. A moan leaves your mouth, louder than it should be, and Michaels free hand shoots up, wrapping around your mouth. “Gotta be quiet, love,” he whispers, not slowing down the movement of his fingers in the slightest, “Wouldn’t want someone to interrupt, hm? Make me stop again?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, whining desperately against his hand as he moves his fingers against you, the coil in your belly winding tighter and tighter. Your whole body lurches atop his, making him suck a breath in through his teeth as you move against his cock, still hard and hot as it presses against your lower back, when he moves his hand lower, plunging two fingers into your tight heat with no warning. “Fuck!” You yelp, muffled against his hand; tears leak from the corners of your eyes as he moves his fingers, scissoring them into you relentlessly as his thumb circles your clit.

“S’fucking tight,” he mumbles lowly, voice vibrating his chest against your back, “God, you’re tight.” He grunts between clenched teeth, repeatedly crooking his fingers inside you as he fucks his fingers in and out of your heat, letting out small, barely there groans every time your pussy squelches around his fingers as he punches muffled whines and whimpers from you. He crooks his fingers up suddenly in a way that makes you see stars as you writhe on his lap, your knees shooting up off the floor as you attempt to curl up on yourself, “That the spot?” He teases, relentlessly rubbing his fingers against it as his thumb quickens against your clit. He adds a third finger without warning, curling them up against that rough patch inside you as he bites down on your shoulder, muffling his own groan as he feels you clench down on his fingers.

“You gonna come?” He mumbles, grinning like a cheshire cat when you frantically nod your head, tears leaking onto the hand still wrapped tightly around your mouth. “Open your eyes,” he commands, not stopping his movements, “Want you to watch what I’m doing to you when you fucking cum.”

At the promise of finally getting to come, your eyes shoot open as you pick your head up off his shoulder, looking down the length of your body to where his hand disappears under your leggings. You practically come undone at the sight, watching as his hand moves against you through the dark fabric, maintaining a careful rhythm. “Michael, please!” You whine against his hand, desperately trying to keep your eyes open.

He chuckles lowly, clearly proud of how quickly he’s been able to reduce you into a begging mess, the sound reverberating off your back. “Fucking come,” he commands, doubling his efforts, “Soak my fucking hand, love.”

The coil in your stomach finally snaps and you sob, eyes snapping shut as your whole body clenches, shaking in his lap, as fireworks burst behind your eyelids. Your entire core clamps down so tight he has to fight to keep his fingers within you, muting the sounds of his groans against your neck and shoulder as he feels your cunt pulse against his fingers. He doesn’t let up, pressing incessantly against that spot within you as you come, until he finally gets what he wants – both of you groaning together, noises muffled, as a stream of fluid seems to erupt from your center, soaking his hand and the inside of your leggings, though you can’t think enough to care at the moment.

“Goddammit,” he grunts, finally removing his hand from your leggings, running his fingers through your folds one last time just to make you squirm. Suddenly, he’s lifting you off his lap enough to turn you around, maneuvering you to face him. You’re practically boneless in his lap as he lifts you just enough to pull your leggings down over your ass, pressing his bare cock against your still throbbing center when he sets you back down, “Gonna let me fuck you, love? Hm? Want me to make you go dumb around my cock?”

You nod your head weakly, not bothering to lift it from his shoulder as you straddle his lap. He doesn’t make you beg this time, too desperate to feel your wet heat around him, as he swiftly lifts you up again, just enough to align his length with your entrance.

Both of you moan as he lets you sit back down, his hard length disappearing into your warmth. He holds the back of your head, pressing your mouth against his neck to muffle your cries; you can feel his jaw clench with the effort of keeping his own muted. He fills you deliciously, thick cock pressed against every part of you, as your clit presses against the small thatch of hair above his length.

“Fuck,” he huffs, the word hissed between his teeth as he squeezes his eyes shut, savoring the way your pussy pulses around his length, the way you desperately mouth and lick at his neck, “God, knew you’d feel good.”

Somehow, that remark works it’s way through the fog in your brain, “Hm?” you hum against his neck, your hands coming up to tangle in his golden hair, “You thought about me?” You whimper, words whiny and breathy as he rocks you against him, spearing you on his length again and again, head kissing your cervix just enough to knock the air from your lungs every time he lowers you back down.

He sighs, as if just now realizing what he’d said, and nods, swallowing down a moan before he speaks, “‘Course I did,” he admits, grinding you down against him, his hips pressed against yours. “Looked so damn pretty in class,” he continues, “So cute all, fuck, all flushed and embarrassed every time you got asked a question.”

His admission makes you clench around him, heat flooding through your system as you process what he’d said. Your clit grinds against his body again, just as the head of his cock brushes against that spot in your center, and it’s like your brain has been whited out, all you can do is mewl against his neck as he rocks you up and down along his cock.

“Fuck, I feel this sweet cunt getting tight, love,” he says, breathing heavily as he gets closer to his own release, “Y’gonna come?”

“Yes!” You whimper, voice high-pitched and broken as you nod frantically against the skin of his neck, now wet with your spit and tears as you rock yourself against him, moving your clit against the hair at the base of his cock.

“Hold it,” he commands softly, more breathing than speaking. He chuckles when he hears you whine, loving the way you mewl for him like a soft little kitten, and the hand still holding your head against him strokes your hair, soothing you. “Want us to come together,” he huffs, cursing under his breath as he feels you grow somehow tighter around him, “Fuck, I’m close just hold on.” The hand on your hip tightens, grinding you tightly against him, groaning as he feels your center milking his cock, your walls clenching around him desperately.

“F-fuck, Michael,” you whine, breath hot against the column of his throat as you feel yourself tipping over, “Please! Please I can’t hold it, please!” You beg beautifully, weeping against his skin, trying so hard to keep it down to a whisper so you don’t draw attention, not this close to your release.

“Where, fuck,” he curses, pulling your head up to look in your eyes, the blue in his nearly swallowed by blackness, “Tell me where.” He pants, his voice urgent.

“Inside me!” You breathe, cunt clenching around him as you feel him twitch inside you.

He groans, forehead resting against your shoulder for a second as he tries to maintain control, both of his hands gripping your ass hard enough to leave bruises, “Are you s–”

“Yes!” You nod, resting your forehead against his when he picks his head back up, “‘M on the pill.” You reassure him as you keep nodding. The two of you move together for a few more seconds, wildly grinding together, before the coil in your stomach is finally wound too tight, “Michael, oh, fuck!”

“Fuck,” he gasps, seeming to get somehow thicker inside you, “Come for daddy, fuck, be good and come.” He commands, his own voice low and frenzied.

Hearing him call himself that does you in, and you shatter around him, walls gripping him tightly. You open your mouth, unable to control a loud moan, which he quickly hushes by pressing his lips against yours, licking into your mouth as he thrusts up into your center harshly a few times, each rise of his hips accompanied by a grunt into your waiting mouth as you mewl at the heat of his cum filling you up, extending your own release.

The two of you stay quiet for a moment, breathing heavily as you sweetly kiss, tiredly pressing your lips together. Finally, you pull away from him giggling shyly when you meet his eyes, blushing as you feel his length slowly softening inside you. “Getting shy on me now?” He teases, smiling at you as he gently plays with your hair.

You smile back at him for a second before suddenly coming to your senses and remembering where you are, “Shit,” you whisper, hopping up off his lap, “I cannot believe we just did that!” You quickly scan the floor with wide eyes, shoulders visibly relaxing when you still don’t see anyone.

“Wasn’t in my plan,” Michael starts, tucking his member back into his boxers and zipping up his jeans, “But I’m certainly not complaining.” He finishes, smirking at you before standing. He leans down, helping you pull up your leggings. He doesn’t miss the way you grimace when the damp, now unpleasantly cool, fabric presses against you. “Sorry,” he apologizes, gesturing to them, “I should’ve…controlled myself better with that one.” He finishes, awkwardly scratching at his chin.

You laugh quietly, trying to play it off although you’re dreading the half hour train ride back to your flat. That feeling doubles when you look down, eyes widening as you see the dark patch around your crotch, hardly visible on the dark fabric but enough that it makes you nervous, “Getting home is gonna be fun.” You joke, turning to begin gathering your things.

You’ve gotten your textbook put back into your backpack when you feel a tap on your shoulder; turning your head, you look wide-eyed when you see him sheepishly smiling at you, holding his red sweater out as he stands in a band t-shirt, “Here,” he says softly, waving the sweater at you, “You need it more than I do and it’s my fucking fault anyway.”

You blush, taking the sweater from him with a small thank you, tying it around your waist as he busies himself with picking up his things, before putting the rest of yours into your backpack as well, “Oh, you didn’t have to do that!” You tell him as you finish situating his sweater around you, satisfied that the stain is covered.

He huffs out a laugh, “You sucked my cock on the floor of a library,” he jokes, eyes sparkling with mischief yet again, “S’the least I could do.”

You laugh, playfully shoving at his shoulder as you put your backpack on. The floor is truly, blessedly, empty as the two of you leave and walk downstairs, not seeing anyone on the second floor either and only a few stragglers on the main floor at this hour on a Saturday evening. He pushes open one of the heavy wooden doors at the entrance, holding it open for you as you duck under his arm. The door thuds closed behind you as you both stand outside the library, the air cold now that the sun’s gone down.

“I really like them, that band,” you say, nodding to his shirt, “Their last album’s really good.”

“Oh!” He says, eyebrows raising in surprise, “You know them?” He asks, smiling when you nod again, “Their new album is probably my favorite too, actually.” The two of you stand in a comfortable silence for a second later before he notices you shiver as a breeze blows through the stoney courtyard. “D’you live close to campus?”

“Half hour on the train,” you shrug, pulling your phone out to check the time, “I should probably go soon if I’m gonna catch the next one…”

“You could come to mine?” He asks, his voice hopeful, “It’s only a walk from here, maybe fifteen or twenty minutes?”

Your eyes widen, having not expected his invitation, but you nod nonetheless, “If you’re sure,” he nods, “Then, yeah! That would be great.” You smile, walking beside him as you start heading in the direction of his flat.

“Would you maybe want to get lunch sometime?” He asks, glancing down at you.

“I would love that,” you smile, your hand brushing against his as you continue down the sidewalk, “I think I might need more tutoring, too…”

His hand catches yours, your fingers intertwining as he smirks, “Will you suck my cock every time?” He teases, grinning as you laugh, the sound echoing off the buildings and filtering into the night air.

Told you so. The voice in the back of your mind echos as you lean your head on Michael’s shoulder.

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