#HIS ROOMMATE PULLED A KNIFE ON HIM | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

boopsiesdaisies · 2 months ago

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being near each other (pt 2)

bob reynolds/sentry x reader | 3,791 words | angst/fluff | gn! reader

THUNDERBOLTS* SPOILERS

tw: panic attacks, swearing, brief mentions of sex

both you and bob are still pretty bad at feelings

a/n: i was not expecting the first part of this to blow up as much as it did, so i decided to not clean my room and write an even longer sequel. thank you @scarlett-witchh for suggesting for a sequel! shoutout to lauren for the starbucks orders <3

link to part one!

___

You had finally begun to find some peace with your roommates. While the clean-up from last month’s “incident” had fully exhausted you, the established routine was comforting, not to mention you had finally embraced your feelings for Bob, well as much as you could. Everyday started to feel like paradise, you practically skipped around the base every morning, romantically sighing through your meetings and missions. Even as you walked into the meeting room with a knife soaring past your face, nothing could have dampened your mood.

“Okay, okay, I have all of your drinks!” You yelled, breaking up the chaos in front of you.

All your teammates froze in their exact positions and slowly turned their heads toward you.

Walker was ducking in front of you with his hands over his head. Yelena’s arm was still outstretched from throwing the kitchen knife, which was now firmly planted in the wall behind you. Alexei and Bucky each had an arm reaching towards holding Yelena back, while Ava was clearly encouraging the behavior. The last person who caught your attention was Bob, seated calmly in the corner, nose in a self-help book, clearly having only looked up at your entrance over the commotion of the fight. As your teammates processed your statement, they all sat down in their respective seats, the previous argument forgotten for caffeine.

“First an iced americano for John, even though I’m certain you don’t actually like it and drink it only for the name,” you said as you handed out the first drink.

Walker attempted to defend himself, but you had already moved on to the next drink in the tray, you cautiously balanced.

“Next, I have God only knows what is in this for Alexei, with approximately fifteen pumps of some kind of syrups in it,” you placed the drink down, its vibrant red color shocked even the barista.

“It is my new sponsored drink!” Alexei responded. “Now known as the Red Drink.”

“Is that meant to be a play on the Pink Drink because I think you’re going to have more copyrights on your hands,” Yelena sighed.

“No, not Pink Drink at all!” He bellowed. “It is my drink that will gain many followers on the Instagram.”

You decided to keep going and ignore him. “Next, I have a hazelnut shaken espresso for Yelena.”

“Thank you,” she immediately sipped the drink, and you watched as her shoulders visibly relaxed.

“Next, an iced matcha latte for Ava,” you handed her the drink as you rounded the table, and she nodded her thanks.

“A black coffee for Bucky, and finally the second to worst drink here, a vanilla bean frap with six shots of espresso, and extra whipped cream for Bob.” You handed the last two their drinks, as you placed yours down on the table. As you handed Bob the drink, your fingers brushed for just a moment, and you felt the heat pull up your face.

You cleared your throat as you attempted to will the blush away, “now, does someone want to explain to me why a stray knife almost landed in my carotid artery on my way in from picking up coffee for all of you?”

You nestled into your seat, next to Bob of course, and pulled your legs up towards your chest. He smiled at you, his cheeks warm as well.

“It would have hit you in the ear at best, you’re giving Yelena too much credit,” Walker started to instigate the room again.

“Oh, like you would have better aim with two idiots trying to pull you off the table,” Yelena bit back.

“Enough you two,” Bucky sighed.

His sighs resembled more of an exhausted father as the days living in the tower went on. The meeting continued on, not without the occasional quip from Yelena or Walker about the argument from before, but you didn’t particularly care anymore. Your eyes moved softly to the side of Bob’s face. His lips were slightly parted as his finger guided his eyes across the lines of the text of his book. Ever since moving in, Bob gained a steady collection of self-help books in an attempt to learn to better live with the Void. His right hand laid flat on the table as he balanced the book on the table, and you found your hand subconsciously reaching to hold his. As you laid your hand on top of his, his hand pulled away to the book, and didn’t return the table. You snapped your head to the side, brows tight as you tried to question what just happened. Bob’s eyes remained steady on the book, though you could tell he wasn’t focused on the words anymore as his grip tightened on the book.

The two of you had spent the past four weeks in a happy bliss, spending soft moments out of missions together. You had frequent movie nights between either one of your rooms, watching anything from shitty action movies to even shittier rom coms but just getting to spend time together made it all worth it. You had even begun to try to teach him how to cook, just simple things so he could survive a bit better without someone on the team watching over him as closely. He was doing so incredibly lately, with only one appearance from the Void since the incident last week, although he had yet to try to use his newfound powers regularly.

His actions just then confused you, sure you two were doing all the cheesy couple things you had learned to follow, but you had been so careful to avoid any unnecessary touching, besides the regular hand holding, since you could tell that it scared him. Holding hands now had been standard practice between the two of you, even in front of the team, all of whom either didn’t care enough to say anything, or the more likely answer was they all had their own problems enough to not bother either of you. Walker and Alexei knew something, since it was their genius ideas to rig the mission chart to even start your “relationship” with Bob, but you weren’t really clear on how many “guys’ nights” actually happened regularly. You didn’t really have a relationship with Yelena or Ava to talk to them about this, you were cordial sure, but you’re not sure if gossiping about boy problems was the next step in the friendship.

Yet now, fear began to creep in the corners of your mind, if Bob didn’t want to hold your hand anymore was there something wrong? You had made it very clear you were willing to go at his pace, especially since he had just served as an experiment, and forcibly given powers that no one really understood. Despite that, it had been a month of comfortable hand holding, and the occasional head on a shoulder. You cursed your inability to discuss emotions, maybe that girls’ night would be the solution to your problems, although remembering the moment you walked into with Yelena throwing knives and Ava encouraging her, maybe they weren’t the ones to go to for advice.

Sound interrupted your downward spiral as the meeting was clearly adjourned and you missed all of the content that may or may not prove important later, although missions for the greater good were not in your interest of your greater good right now. Bob had stood faster than you could process and scurried out of the room, as opposed to his normal joyful gait around the tower.

“What was that?” Yelena’s voice broke through the silence, and it was clearly pointed at you.

She then proceeded to clear her throat loudly.

“Oh shit right! Uh, I need help with something; Bucky, Alexei, and Ava, why don’t you come help me with this thing?” Walker’s voice was higher than normal, and as you looked at him you swore you could see pen marks all over his hand.

All of them poured out of the room with a level of speed that made you a tad bit uncomfortable, as Yelena’s eyebrows raised, reposing the question.

“What was what?” You asked incredulously.

“That, little…thing,” Yelena moved towards you, sitting down in the chair next to you.

“What? Oh, that,” you replied, realizing you were right, Yelena was probably not the person to go for advice on this.

“You two are like so happy, and now it’s weird, and now it’s all of our problems,” she continued.

“Well, that’s not my fault,” you said, immediately defending your actions.

“I’m not saying it’s anyone’s fault,” she sighed, clearly trying a different approach “but you two are making less kissy faces at each other lately and it’s bringing the mood down.” “I don’t make kissy faces!” You shot back.

“You absolutely do, but the two of you need to figure it out,” she said, standing.

“Maybe just fuck already?” Walker’s voice came through the doorway, as he was comically yanked away.

You heard the sound of Alexei loudly hushing him, and the sound of a slap. Clearly, the other team members were eavesdropping.

“Did you all just stage an intervention for me?” You asked.

“Listen, as much as Walker is an idiot,” Yelena’s voice raised for the last part, clearly addressing the audience beyond the doorway. “You two are cute little idiots and Bob’s been pouting about something, so figure it out.”

“You act as if it’s just simple enough of asking him what’s wrong!” You stood.

“It is?” She responded, turning back to you.

“It totally is not!” You answered.

“It totally is!” Walker’s voice shot back from the doorway, as you heard a slam and his groan as someone most likely hit him with something. Part of you was hoping it was Ava, helping Yelena get revenge from before.

“Shut up Walker, your wife left you, you don’t know shit about relationships!” Yelena’s voice peaked with the anger from before as she stormed out of the meeting room to the sound of your sigh.

You continued to sigh and stomp a bit as you exited through one of the side doors, hearing a louder clamor as the fight from before was clearly continuing in the background. Your feet carried you subconsciously to Bob’s door, the sound of music softly playing in his room. You knocked once, softly against the door, part of you hoping that he wasn’t going to answer to save you the stress of addressing your problems right now. You could totally walk away and shove them down, but if you learned anything in the past time with the team, shoving emotions down was, unfortunately, not the correct answer to make them better.

Bob pulled the door open just a crack, and peaked through it. Shit, only he could make this look endearing and made your heart flutter.

“Can I come in?” You asked.

Bob hesitated for a moment, and looked down at his hands, then answered. “Sure.”

You walked into his room that was now completely repaired. No more broken furniture or bits of glass around the room. Just a soft melody playing off a speaker somewhere, with a few plants that you had gifted him to liven the room up. Despite literally only having the clothes on his back when the move-in process began, he had quickly acquired multitudes of knick knacks that covered the room. Even though the city was rebuilding and reopening from the Void’s takeover, you insisted on taking Bob to all the tourist parts to explore as your first “date,” although you struggled to call it that, and let’s just say you would never be able to say no to his face.

“What did you need?” Bob asked.

He had hung around the door, and continued to avoid your gaze.

“I should be the one asking you that,” you smiled, and stepped closer to him.

He sidestepped away from you, and moved past you further into his room. “I don’t need anything, everything’s great, why would I need something?” He asked, stumbling over his words.

“Considering that was your response, something is probably wrong,” you replied.

“I–” he started to speak, but he just let his mouth hang open and then closed it without finishing the thought.

“You can talk to me,” you started. “I thought we had been through this, Bob, we would talk to each other? Listen, if I’m too much for you or you don’t want to do this, I would rather just know, before I get too invested–”

“No! No,” Bob’s hands shook as he held them up to stop you. “It’s me.”

“What about you?” You asked.

“I’m afraid,” he said, softly, letting his arms fall and hang at his sides.

“Afraid?” you pushed.

He didn’t rely.

“Are you afraid of me?” You felt a painful lump rise to your throat, you knew who you were and your past, but part of you hoped that maybe he would see past that. See you for you, and not what you were forced to do in the past.

“Not you!” The look of shock on his face brought a second of comfort to you, and he moved closer to you. “I’m afraid of me. Well, not me, him, I guess? I’m not really clear on how to refer to us.”

You smiled softly, relieved. “Let’s agree on him, because I don’t think that it’s you.”

“Okay, him,” Bob agreed. “Last week, when he tried to make an appearance it was because, well, I don’t know how to say this without it being weird.”

“I can promise it’s probably not that weird,” you affirmed.

“I thought about kissing you and got really nervous and then it happened and now I’m afraid of being near you because you make me nervous because I like you a lot and I’m afraid of being a fuck up but if I’m not near you I’m even more afraid because you actually make me feel safe and I just feel like I’m doing this all wrong and I’m just word vomiting at this point so who knows if you’ve actually made sense of this,” he began to pace as he spoke and you could feel the energy in the room change as all the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“Bob, stop,” you went to put your hands on his shoulders but he pulled away.

“And see! Because you’re such a nice and perfect person you try to help me and when you touch me, it’s going to happen again, and it’s going to be just like the kitchen, only this time you’re going to hate me for it. And then everyone is going to leave me and I’m going to alone again and –”

“Stop, you’re spiraling,” you grabbed his shoulders despite him previously trying to pull away, knowing that the contact would probably help him.

“I can’t stop! Everything you do makes me nervous,” he said, fear beginning to manifest in his eyes as the eerie silver of the Void.

“And you don’t think you make me nervous?” You asked.

“What?” He responded.

The seriousness of the question seemed to stop all of his thoughts in one moment.

“I’m so nervous around you all the time, but I still hang around you because I like you too. And even though I’m scared as shit everyday, I want to be better, and so I tell myself that being afraid is what lets me be near you in the first place, so I’m willing to be scared.” You smiled, as your hands began to rub up and down his arms, trying to soothe him.

“You’re scared too?” He asked, and you noticed the brightness in his eyes beginning to fade as they returned more to the color of the blue eyes that you’ve found comfort in everyday.

“Of course I’m scared!” You laughed. “I’m standing in front of one of the kindest people I’ve ever met, and not to mention you’re hot as shit and you actually like me, even though I suck and I’ve done so many shitty things, and you know about them, but you like me anyways.”

“You think I’m hot?” Bob asked, causing you to laugh in response, out of all the things you’ve told him tonight, that’s what he got from this?

“Yes, I think you’re really hot Bobby,” you smiled as one of your hands tucked his stubborn piece of hair behind his ear.

“Wow, ‘cause coming from you that’s like” he said, looking a bit star-gazed. “That’s like wow.”

You struggled to keep eye contact with him, you’ve always struggled to accept compliments, but with him compliments made you feel even warmer.

“So what do you want to do?” You asked, part of you fearing an answer that made your chest tighter.

“What do I want?” He asked, part of him looked surprised, as if this was one of the first times he was asked for his opinion on something.

“Yeah, do you want to keep trying this?” You felt so small under his gaze.

“Why wouldn’t I?” He asked in reply, feeling the shift as if he knew it was his turn to comfort you.

“I just, if you’re afraid, and it makes your powers go crazy, I don’t want to take the chance of hurting you,” you finally looked away from him, trying to fully pull away.

“I’m more worried about hurting you, and you’re worried about hurting me,” he laughed. “You were right by the way.”

“Right about what?” You replied, his laughter seeming out of place.

“That we’re bad at ‘this’ thing,” he referred to the same invisible thing from before.

“Yeah, we are bad at this,” you started to laugh too, letting yourself enjoy the moment.

“I don’t want to be afraid to touch you,” he whispered, as if admitting the words out loud would summon him. “I don’t want to be afraid to kiss you.”

“Then don’t be, or if you tell me, I’ll try to make it better,” you stepped closer to him.

“You always make it better,” Bob stepped closer, the distance between the two of you practically not existent a this point.

While there was a softness to the moment, both of your breathing was quick, but silent, the energy was really what pulled your attention to the distance between you. You could feel the electricity of the moment both metaphorically and literally as Bob’s powers began to physically draw energy towards him. You were afraid to speak, ruining the tender moment, the sounds of the music fading faster behind you. Taking a deep breath, you steeled your nerves, you didn’t care if you got burned, you knew what you wanted. You grabbed the sides of Bob’s face and guided him closer to you.

You smiled softly as your noses brushed, “I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Uh-huh,” Bob replied, eyes slightly glazed.

“Is that okay?” You confirmed.

“Please,” Bob whispered in confirmation.

Clearly, he didn’t care about the fear at that moment either. The moment your lips touched you finally knew what the power of a thousand suns felt like. It was entirely hot, but so soft, so entirely Bob. In this moment, you were so grateful that you had decided to stay home from that mission, because this snippet of your future made everything so worth it. Bob’s hands hovered over the sides of your face, then your shoulders, and then fell back down to his sides like he had no idea what to do with them. Without breaking the kiss, you pulled his hands towards you and placed one on your waist and another on your shoulder. You moved your hands back to the sides of his face. His lips seemed so unsure against yours, but so perfect.

When you pulled away, Bob’s eyes were wide and mouth was agape. The room was at least six degrees warmer than before you kissed, but even the room felt cool against your skin. You began to softly laugh and tuck his hair behind his ear. Even with your efforts the piece slid back out to infront of his eyes.

“How do you feel?” You asked softly, you knew that it was still Bob from his eyes, but wanted to ensure you weren’t about to face your past mistakes again, at least not right now.

“Good, good, I mean great, yeah great,” his words seemed to reflect the short circuiting of his brain.

“Okay, you can tell me if it wasn’t” you reassured.

There was a second of silence, where he nodded. You felt the worries that stuck with you since the meeting earlier began to melt away with the heat.

“I promise you I’ve kissed people before, I just–” Bob started and you laughed harder.

“What?” You replied, a laugh bubbling in your chest.

“I swear I’ve done this before, I just – It’s just – It’s just you,” he tried to verbalize his thoughts but he seemed so entirely lost.

It warmed your heart in a way you could never have put into words.

“I think you did perfectly,” you replied. “You never have to justify yourself to me y’know.”

“I know, I just feel like I totally blanked out ‘cause I did, and like my brain just sorta screamed for the entire time.” He said.

“I hope it was at least a good blank out,” your hands fell from the sides of his face moving to one on the back of his neck and the other on his shoulder.

“Oh yeah, it was good, you’re good, you’re perfect actually,” he stumbled through his words.

You began to fiddle with the hair that rested at the nape of his neck, while laughing at his words.

“Well I’m glad I beat all those other people you’ve kissed before,” you teased.

“Oh ten times better,” he genuinely assured you.

“Well then I hope you’re okay if I kissed you again,” you asked.

“Again?” He stuttered out as his eyes widened. He attempted to recover, “I mean, yeah, I’m cool with it.”

Your mouths met again with Bob’s meeting you in the middle, his hands still firmly planted where you placed them. Before you could really enjoy the moment, you heard a voice in the background.

“I told you Yelena! You owe me fifty bucks!” Walker’s voice was the very last thing you wanted to hear.

“They're literally not fucking Walker, they are fully clothed,” Yelena yelled back.

Although, once you turned around, the split lip and the beginnings of a black eye forming on his face told you that you didn’t really need to exact any revenge on him since Yelena seemed to have dealt with the problem before it began. While you wished that your roommates would find someone else to bother, since they ruined this really nice moment, you laughed, because you wouldn’t be here next to Bob if they didn’t feel the need to meddle.

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sleepyhoon · 8 months ago

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TWO MOONS - L.HS

pairing. plug!heeseung x reader

genre. smut, 18+ content, one shot, drabble. MDNI!

word count. 4k+

warnings. drug & alcohol consumption, partying, swearing, sex while intoxicated, short smut [ dry humping, multiple orgasms, oral (f. receiving), fingering ]

synopsis. based off of this hard thought! plug!heeseung who likes you so much that he's convinced himself that you're kinda evil.

a/n. sorry this took so long lol hope u enjoy regardless :) no part 2 so plss dont request it but maybe some drabbles!! also not fully proofread so pls disregard any typos or grammatical errors hehe

Never in his life did Heeseung predict he’d be getting bitched around by a girl arguably much shorter, physically weaker, and far less intimidating than him. And yet here he was, shirtless in his kitchen at two in the morning on his third attempt of baking edibles all because you were too scared to smoke a little weed.

Fucking ridiculous.

It’s his own fault, really, he should’ve known that innocent, good girl persona you put on was all an act you use to control people – specifically men. Stirring the dessert batter in the mixing bowl, Heeseung shakes his head at the memory of you tilting your head and batting your eyelashes at him as you spoke, your perfectly manicured nails – that you probably got some desperate bitchboy to pay for – tracing and lightly scratching his bicep.

“So,” you started, dragging out the ‘o’, “how much do you charge for edibles?”

Heeseung shakes his head, tracing the rim of his half-empty red solo cup as he responds, “Edibles aren’t my forte. You don’t smoke?”

“Not my forte,” you say in a mocking tone, making Heeseung chuckle. “It’s just too much, you know? The smell, how quick it kicks in…not for me. But, uh, if you don’t make them I’ll stop wasting your time, then.” You give Heeseung a friendly pat on the shoulder before turning on your heels, fully prepared to disappear back into the party and find someone who actually meets your needs.

“Wait!” Heeseung stops you, tugging on your arm until you’re back to facing him. He can’t fucking believe this bullshit manipulation tactic you’re using on him is actually working, he’s literally pulling on your arm like a child so you won’t leave him.

You raise a brow at him as you wait for Heeseung to continue, taking note of his sudden nervousness, “Yeah?”

“Uh…are you into, like, brownies? Or…”

The smirk you gave in response said enough, you’ve got him exactly where you want him.

He’d spent the next few hours browsing the aisles of Target, checking his phone every so often and checking off each ingredient as he tossed them into the bright red shopping cart. To make matters worse, you hadn’t even requested normal brownies, you wanted some shit he’d hardly ever heard of before: blondies.

It was bad enough that Heeseung already couldn’t bake for shit, and here you were demanding he’d make something he’d never even tasted before; you really are a master manipulator.

His third and final attempt at baking the blondies were a success, his three roommates taste-testing the fresh batch as a final confirmation.

“I can’t even taste it,” Jake says, his brows shooting up in delight, “you sure you’re not forgetting the main ingredient?”

“That’s the whole point,” Heeseung explains, cutting the remaining batch into neat squares, “YN doesn’t want the taste to be too strong, she likes when it’s more subtle and takes awhile to kick in.”

“Are you her wife or her plug?” Sunghoon jokes from his spot on the couch, taking a small bite of his own blondie.

“Neither,” Jay inserts himself into the conversation, taking a seat next to Sunghoon, “I’m sure he wants to be both, though.”

“Fuck off,” Heeseung snaps, momentarily narrowing his eyes at his roommates. “We just met, I’m just trying to get to know her.” He sets the knife down, reaching into the wooden cabinet to retrieve ziplock bags.

“You’re already her bitch, what else is there to know?” Sunghoon half-jokes, resting his feet on the ottoman.

“I am not her bitch.”

He totally is, if the way he’s hurrying to send you a picture of the freshly made blondies is anything to go by.

Heeseung * 2:47 AM

[Attachment: 1 Image] Yooo

YN * 9:06 AM

omggggg ur the fucking best how much??

You didn’t respond until the following morning, causing Heeseung to nearly jump out of his skin once he woke up to your texts. He turns on his side, elbow propped up against the mattress as he formulates a response.

Heeseung * 10:31 AM

1 for 10 or 2 for 15. venmo or cashapp But lmk if you want more

YN * 10:40 AM

no cash? :(

Heeseung’s about to go on a long winded explanation about how money transferring apps are quicker and more convenient than accepting cash when you interrupt him by sending a photo.

YN * 10:41 AM

[Attachment: 1 Image] plsssss i don’t trust cashapp and ive been having issues w my venmo acc :(

It’s a photo of the bottom half of your face, lips formed into a cute pout with your camera angled low enough to show off your cleavage. You weren’t even trying to be discreet, setting your forearm underneath your chest to make your boobs sit higher, the cheetah print material of your bra peeking out from under your too-small tank top.

Heeseung swallows hard, staring down at the photo with his pupils blown wide as his trembling fingers type out a response.

Heeseung * 10:50 AM

Actually you know what don’t even worry about it lmao Consider it a gift When r u free for pickup Or i can bring to u Either or is fine lol

YN * 10:59 AM

omg :o are u sure? don’t want u to lose out on money >.<

Heeseung * 11:11 AM

It’s fine dw about me baby U picking up? Or want me to drop off On campus is too risky

YN * 11:12 AM

thank u hee!!!!!!! im done with classes around 4:30 i’ll pick up around then if that works also u responded at 11:11…angel number u must be my angel :o

There you go again with your subtle manipulation tactics that Heeseung swears won’t work on him. If there really is angel out of the two of you, it definitely wouldn’t be you, but Heeseung’s not too sure he’d be considered one either. After all, in the twelve minutes it took him to respond to your message, he spent ten of them fucking into his fist as he stared at the photo you sent.

His mind conjured up countless scenarios; leaving hickeys and bite marks across your chest, slipping his dick between your tits as you held them together for him, cumming all over them, fucking anything. Desperate wasn’t even the word.

Heeseung * 11:13 AM

Must be :)

After a month and a half of being your personal baker slash bitchboy, Heeseung really is convinced that you’re using him, yet he doesn’t seem to mind. If anything he’s grateful, fully aware that if it weren’t for him being your plug, the two of you likely never would’ve crossed paths despite attending the same universities.

There wasn’t an ounce of school spirit in his body, so he had little to no urgency to attend any of the sporting events you cheered at or one of the many school-sponsored events you were required to attend. Meeting you at that party not too long ago had been his first encounter with you ever, and you clearly left him with a great first impression on him.

Since that night, he’s found himself conjuring up a new batch of edibles for you every week; brownies, cupcakes, cereal bars, whatever the fuck you wanted, and half the time he’d do it for free if it meant he got to give it to you in person.

He still hasn’t convinced you to actually smoke, though, but maybe it’s for the best. The mere thought of getting high with you and how you’d stare him down with half-lidded eyes was enough to make his dick hard — in fact, it already has. Several times.

Enough time has passed to the point where it’s obvious to everyone, yourself included, that Heeseung has genuine feelings for you that go beyond a physical and sexual attraction. Sure, he’s still convinced that you’re a little bit evil and definitely manipulative, but he considers it part of the fun. He’s also deluded himself into having the “I can fix her” mindset that he’s been using to justify his actions of ignoring your red flags.

However, even if he can’t “fix” you, it wouldn’t be a huge loss. Red is his favorite color, after all.

“You sound��crazy, and she sounds crazier,” Jake leans against the kitchen counter, raising a concerned brow at Heeseung as he takes a sip of his drink.

“I’m not crazy,” Heeseung corrects, “and YN is…I don’t know, honestly. Leave her alone, dipshit.”

Jake throws a hand up in defense, glaring when a fellow partygoer accidentally bumps into him, nearly causing him to spill his drink. “Rather be a dipshit than a bitchboy.” He mutters loud enough for Heeseung to hear before groaning, “Wow, speak of the devil.”

Heeseung turns, following Jake’s line of sight until he spots you walking through the front door. Stunning as always, your khaki mini skirt and black halter top fitting as if they were custom designed for you and only you.

Despite extending you an invitation to Sunghoon’s birthday party, Heeseung was fairly certain you wouldn’t show up tonight, assuming you’d be consumed with cheer practice or one of your many extracurricular activities to attend. Yet, here you were, a wicked grin on your face as you made eye contact with Heeseung.

He gulps in return, eyes wide as he watches you walk over to him and Jake.

You stand beside Heeseung, shooting him a quick smile before directing your attention to Jake, “Sunghoon! Happy birthday, king!”

Jake side-eyes you, briefly glancing at Heeseung before responding, “I’m not…you know what? Nevermind, thanks.” He takes this as an opportunity to exit the conversation, giving Heeseung a light pat on the shoulder as he leaves.

“Didn’t think you’d be here.” Heeseung comments, leaning against the kitchen countertop.

You shrug, “Wasn’t doing anything else, figured it wouldn’t hurt to stop by for a little. Besides, I wanted to see you.”

“Yeah?” Heeseung asks, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

“Yeah,” you respond, taking a step closer and resting your hand on his bicep, “got anything for me?”

Fuck, Heeseung knew he should’ve made another batch of brownies or some shit. He seriously hadn’t been expecting you to show up tonight, otherwise he would’ve been prepared.

He shakes his head, “Not this time, you should’ve told me you were coming; I would’ve made something.”

You groan, momentarily tilting your head back, “I just wanted to surprise you.”

“Consider me surprised,” his hand lands on your waist, pulling your body until your flush against him, “why won’t you just smoke with me?”

You grimace, shaking your head in response.

Heeseung rolls his eyes, “Just once? I know your first time wasn’t that great, but, I really think you’d like it if you tried again.”

“I don’t know, Hee…”

“Tell you what,” Heeseung starts, clearing his throat, “smoke with me just this once, and your next few purchases are on me.”

It isn’t much of an offer considering most of the shit he gave you was either free or already extremely discounted, but your eyes light up regardless. “Really?”

Heeseung nods, “I swear.”

You think it over for a moment, the pros instantly outweigh the cons and lead you to accept Heeseung’s desperate offer.

A few minutes later, you find yourself in a comfortable lounge chair with Heeseung in his backyard, grateful that the remaining partygoers opted to stay indoors, giving you privacy and alone time with him.

You’re sitting sideways on his lap, trying your best to ignore the feeling of his dick pressing right against your ass, neatly rolled blunt in one hand as he uses the other to fish a lighter from his pocket. “You’re nervous,” he comments.

You shake your head, “I’m not.”

“You are, I feel you shaking.”

“I’m fine, just kinda cold. Go on.”

Heeseung studies you for a moment, eye contact strong and intimidating as ever as he brings the blunt to his parted lips. You watch carefully as he brings the lighter towards the tip, focusing entirely too much on the concentrated look on his face as he lights it. Slowly, he begins to rotate it as the end continues to burn, taking a few small puffs here and there.

Satisfied with his creation, Heeseung takes a long, slow drag, inhaling the smoke into his lungs before titling his head away to exhale.

“Your turn,” he says, offering you the blunt.

You hesitantly stare down at it before accepting; it was intimidating to say the least, the scent alone strong enough to make your head hurt. Heeseung watches you patiently, eyes darting between your lips and the blunt in silence.

Deciding you need a little bit of encouragement, he brings his thumb to your lips, parting them slightly as his free-hand wraps around your wrist, “You’ll be fine, trust me.”

Under the guidance of his calloused hand, you finally bring the blunt up to your lips and briefly inhale before immediately exhaling.

Heeseung chuckles, shaking his head, “How’d that feel?”

You ponder for a moment, passing the blunt back to Heeseung, “I don’t feel anything. Literally nothing.”

“I mean, yeah, you didn’t even inhale it.”

You roll your eyes, “Why are there so many steps? This is why I prefer edibles.”

“I’m just showing you that you have other options, babe.”

“Yeah, well I’m sticking to my baked goods. You can have the rest of that, I don’t want anymore.”

Heeseung’s well aware that you’re a woman of your word, and the chances of you ever smoking again were a definite zero, so trying to get you to change your mind was pointless. However, there is one thing that may just work on you.

“Mind if I try something?”

You perk up, “Try what?”

“I do all the work but you still get high.”

You raise a brow, “That’s possible?”

He nods, “All you’d have to do is take deep breaths.”

Taking a deep breath, you accept Heeseung’s offer with a sigh, resting a hand on his shoulder as you adjust yourself on his lap. “Fine.”

Here goes nothing.

He guides the blunt back to his lips, taking a long drag as he holds the smoke in his mouth. He tilts his head upward towards you, taking your chin in his hand, signaling for you to part your lips. You follow his command and part your lips open, just enough for Heeseung to close the distance and allow the smoke into your mouth, his lips barely brushing against yours in the process.

You take in a deep breath, eyes closed shut and inhale the smoke, careful not to exhale too quickly and have a repeat of your previous attempt.

“How was that?” Heeseung asks, taking note of your sudden silence.

Truthfully, it wasn’t bad. The smell is still too strong for your liking and requires much more effort than biting off a piece of dessert and calling it a day, but it wasn’t bad. You’re certain that Heeseung shotgunning it into your mouth only added to the experience.

“Not bad,” you admit, “probably because you did all the work.”

He chuckles at that, “I’ll always take care of you, remember that.”

Heeseung is having the time of his life, thoroughly convinced that he finally has some power over you. Here you were sitting on his lap in his backyard letting him blow smoke into your mouth. Sure, it may have taken a lot of convincing and begging on his end to get to this point, but none of that matters; baby steps are still movement.

As if the night couldn’t have gotten any better, you’re asking Heeseung to shotgun more smoke into your mouth over and over. He’s careful to maintain a calm and nonchalant demeanor as he does so, not wanting to come off as too eager out of fear of scaring you away. Or even worse, giving you back that power you have over him.

On the fifth time, you swipe your tongue across Heeseung’s bottom lip when he passes the smoke into your mouth, a low groan escaping from him in the process. He’s fully hard in his jeans by now, and there’s no way you can’t feel his dick pressing right into you. Despite the cold weather, your entire body feels warm all over, Heeseung only adding to the pleasure.

You should’ve taken Heeseung a bit more seriously when he said you’d still get high from this; after a few minutes, your limbs were already starting to feel lighter and weaker. A delicate, cloud-like haze fills your head; your vision blurs slightly and it takes a few minutes for you to fully relax.

Heeseung, attentive as ever, remains silent and still has he watches you; primarily due to the fact that you squirming around on his lap is only adding to the uncomfortable tightness in his jeans. One wrong move, and he’d surely be cumming in his boxers.

You rest your forehead against Heeseung, pressing a firm hand against his chest when he moves to blow more smoke into your mouth. He hums, staring up at with a concerned look on his face.

You close your eyes, mumbling, “Heeseung…”

He hums again in response, still holding the smoke in his mouth.

You open your eyes briefly before closing them again, balling up the collar of his shirt in your fist as you lean down to press your lips against his. He opens his mouth on instinct, as if it were a second nature, parting his lips slightly and exhaling the smoke into your mouth once again.

Heeseung absentmindedly sets the blunt down, his hands moving to your waist to pull you closer to him until your tits are pressed right up against his chest. He groans into your mouth at the feelings, tilting his head to allow himself further into your mouth.

You cup his face in your hands, hips moving forward as you slowly begin to grind yourself against him. “Fuck,” he moans in a low voice, “keep doing that.”

You grind down harsher this time, capturing his moan in your mouth in the process. With each movement of your hips, a shiver descends down your spine at the friction; Heeseung is painfully hard, and from what you could feel, he was definitely packing. Bigger than what you would’ve expected.

It all feels too good; you grinding against him, the state of his high, your tongue in his mouth. It’s all so overwhelmingly euphoric that Heeseung hardly realizes how close he is to literally cumming in his boxers.

His body was always overly sensitive whenever he got high, and often avoided any sort of intimacy that involved another person due to how embarrassingly quick he would finish, and tonight doesn't seem to be any different. What makes matters worse is the fact that Heeseung was already desperately attracted to you and had been dreaming of this moment since he’d first met you.

He pulls away quickly, cursing under his breath, “YN, h-hold on,” he stutters, “slow down, please.”

You don’t listen; in fact, you can barely even hear him with how caught up you were in your own head. “Hmm? Say that again?”

“S-slow – ah, fuck – slow down for a sec, baby.”

His grip on your waist tightens, and despite the urgency in his tone of wanting you to slow down, he makes no effort to still your hips move you off of him. Fuck it, it is what it is.

“Why?” You question, tilting your head, but you’re a few seconds too late.

Heeseung’s entire body shivers, hips jolting upwards as he comes on himself, making a mess of his boxers. While that alone was definitely embarrassing, Heeseung is more annoyed over the fact that you’ve regained your power over him. His priorities were definitely fucked, but he didn’t even care; he could clean himself up later, but the damage to his ego would take longer to repair.

Your hands fly to your mouth in shock, eyes widening as you process what’s just happened, “Oh, Heeseung…” you mumble into the palm of your hands.

He throws his head back, eyes squeezed shut as he runs a hand down his face, “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding.”

“It’s okay! It happens! No big deal!” You try to reassure him, but it goes in one ear and out the other.

Sure it happens and maybe it isn’t a big deal, but it is for Heeseung. He’s not the type to bust a nut over someone squirming around in his lap for ten minutes, this shit was fucking insanity.

“I’m seriously not like this, I’m just overly-sensitive when I’m high. I swear, I-”

“It’s fine, Heeseung,” you interrupt, standing from his lap, “if anything, I’m flattered! Why don’t you, uh, get cleaned up and I’ll see you later?”

“YN, come on, don’t do this.” He pleads, following you and you make your way towards the sliding door.

“I told you, it’s fine! I’m not like,” you pause, opening the door with a loud grunt, “mad or weirded out or anything.”

You slip back into the living room, Heeseung hot on your tail with every step. “Let me make it up to you!”

You sigh, “Honestly, I don’t think you have it in you to do that right now.”

“I do! Just let me, please.”

“Heeseung, please drop it. I said it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine, at least let me eat you out or something!”

“Heeseung!” Your eyes widen at his lewd, shameless offer, “Lower your voice! We’re in a fucking party surrounded by people!”

He smacks his teeth, “I don’t care. Please, YN.”

“You don’t have to make it up to me, you do not owe me anything.”

A beat of silence passes, then he says, “Then do it for me. Please.”

Even though Heeseung was the one literally begging to go down for you, there is a possibility of him having some sort of power over you; or maybe you just have a soft spot for him. Either way, you end up lying in his bed twenty minutes later, skirt bunched up around your waist as Heeseung’s wet tongue circles your clit, desperate attempt at coaxing a second orgasm from you.

He hadn’t even realized he’d grown hard again just from eating you out, and would likely end up cuuming in his boxers again just from doing this.

“Fuck,” he moans into your folds, pulling away slightly to pepper kisses on your inner thighs, “been waiting so fucking long for this.”

“Yeah?” You question, your grip on Heeseung’s hair tightening.

This earns a low groan from him as he nods against your skin, “You have no idea.”

Deciding he’s spent enough time away from your cunt, his lips make their way back onto you; his tongue falls flat against you, dragging your wetness upwards towards your swollen clit before wrapping his lips around the sensitive bud.

Your body shivers, a beam of sweat dripping down your forehead as your second orgasm approaches. You’ve been eaten out before, countless times, but never like this. It was almost as if Heeseung was doing it for his own pleasure rather than your.

He teases your entrance with his finger before sliding two of them in with ease, curling them upwards and immediately hitting the spot you needed him the most.

“H-Heeseung…hold on…”

He hums, but he’s not really listening, too occupied with kitten-licking your clit and pumping his fingers in and out of you. The knot in your stomach finally snaps and you’re gushing against his hands and mouth, Heeseung only takes this as a sign to continue lapping at your cunt. You have to literally grab him by the hair and drag him away from you.

He stares up at you, pupils blown wide and his chin coated in your juices, but he definitely looks happy. “What?” he asks.

You struggle to catch your breath, “You’re hard again?”

He looks down at his crotch momentarily before shrugging, “I guess.”

“You…don’t you wanna do something about that?”

His eyes flash down to your cunt for a split second, “It can wait.”

You scoff, “Well, I need a minute.”

Heeseung nods in agreement, impatiently drumming his fingers on his bed as you flop against his mattress. “Ready?” He asks once a minute has passed.

“No.”

He sighs, then sighs again, and again and again until you let out a frustrated groan. “Go get me a glass of fucking water.”

“Okay!” He shouts while standing, exiting the bedroom in a hurry. Maybe you really do treat him like a bitchboy, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

#enhypen imagine #enhypen smut #enhypen scenarios #lee heeseung #lee heeseung imagine #lee heeseung smut #heeseung x reader #kpop imagine #kpop smut #kpop scencario #jake sim #park sunghoon #park jongseong

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comatosebunny09 · 20 days ago

Text

and they were roommates | sylus

sum: sylus responds to an online ad for a roommate. you suddenly have this tall, well-spoken, handsome man living in the attic, playing classical music, tinkering with things he built, and humming off-key while he makes you pancakes in the morning before disappearing for weeks at a time. cw: modern au, roommate au, slice of life, slow burn, mild language, brief mentions of violence & torture, evols exists here, mutual pining, romantic tension, brief jealousy, alcohol, 3k wc tracklist: le carrousel - james quinn fig. 1 | fig. 2 | fig. 3 | fig. 4 | fig. 6

The air reeks of mildew, dust, sweat, and disinfectant.

A lone lightbulb winks tawny overhead, casting ominous shadows along the concrete floor and walls, highlighting the savagery taking place within.

Four men occupy the room.

Sylus is the only one seated on a chair like a throne, legs crossed—the paradigm of poised, twirling a folding knife between his fingers while a henchman stands in good form at his back.

The muffled screams have now dulled to wet whimpers. A grown man crying has never been a pretty sound. But Sylus has grown accustomed to it, sometimes dragging the fragmented remains of a man out himself.

He’s a good foot from the show, watching with all the interest of someone used to brutality. Lowered lids cloak vacant eyes. He sighs for the umpteenth time, leaning back, clearly bored with this game.

Lackey number two rucks up slicked sleeves, swiping the sweat from his brow before getting back to work.

The victim—a self-proclaimed freelancer discharged from a rival faction, boasting about having antimatter weapons to sell—snivels as Sylus’ henchman drags him across the floor. On his knees, ankles and wrists bound, breath shaky behind the bite of a makeshift gag, the man levels Sylus with a pleading look.

It’s fruitless. The kingpin is in no mood for mercy. He waggles his fingers, signaling for his henchman to begin another round of mind-warping torture.

Blood and viscera aren’t Sylus’ thing.

If he can help it, he prefers more neat, conventional methods for extracting information. Which is why he doesn’t flinch when the goon’s cries rise again as if he’s being electrocuted.

The lightbulb glints once more, and a moth beating its wings as it orbits it, casts a foreboding shadow below.

Sylus toys with the knife again, mind slowly detaching itself, when his phone lightly buzzes in his coat.

He catches the blade’s handle in his palm, fishes his cell from his inner pocket, and scrutinizes the screen. Arching a brow, his lips twitch, threatening to curl upward.

It’s a message from you, your name accented with a lone heart emoji.

When he draws up the text, your voice invades his mind. He envisions you all frazzled, dramatic as ever, and his heart swells from the imagery.

(You): help me!

It reads half-cryptic. He’s sitting up now, the knife returning to its home with a sharp shlink!

When he starts to feel an inkling of concern creeping in, thumb hovering over the keyboard, prepared to key in a response, another message comes through. It’s a picture of a menu, sharp print against cardstock, the restaurant's name scrawled in cursive at the top.

(You): don’t know how to read this. i’m hungry as hell and about to have a whole attitude. (You): heeeeellllp 🚨🚨🚨 (You): and don’t say escargot. i will literally fight you.

This time, he does allow his lips to pull in that Cheshire Cat sort of way. It’s endearing how you need him. How you rely on him to translate what you call “rich bastard speak.” Even if it’s for something minor, he’s grateful to be of use to you. You give him purpose in a world that bleeds grey. The shine of a lighthouse amid a tumultuous storm.

He’s been there before, the eatery you’re fretting over. They have good liquor and decent grilled scallops. He’s about to send back a personal rec, but then it strikes him—the gleam of silver in the photo’s corner, half-hidden by the menu, but glaringly obvious.

An expensive watch wrapped around a wrist that’s inherently masculine catches his eye. Bigger than yours, veins and sinew spilling from the links down to manicured nails.

Sylus’ jaw ticks.

He knows you’re on your lunch break. Has your schedule down to a science, pocketing it in case he has to do something irreversible to clear his tracks. He’s aware that you primarily work with women—you sometimes vent about the things they do and don’t, using him as a confidant whenever your day is too heavy to shoulder.

And maybe he’s done background checks on all of them, ensuring they wouldn’t pose a problem later. To you and him.

But you’ve never spoken of a man working in your small, hodgepodge department. A man too close for Sylus’ comfort. Casual familiarity that makes his eyes narrow.

He’s already chased off one deranged ex. He’d rather not come back to you missing while he’s in another city conducting business.

(Sylus): whos that sweetie? (You): ??? (Sylus): the tudor watch. (Sylus): in the corner. friend of yours? (You): oh! intern. he’s cool peeps. i’m like 6 years older than him and he keeps reminding me. 🙄🙄🙄

Sylus certainly does not release the quietest, most relieved breath. And the rigid set of his shoulders doesn’t slacken upon discovering that you’re not secretly courting someone without his knowledge.

It’s not stalking. It’s ensuring his assets are secured.

(You): anyway, can you help me? you know i don’t understand this fancy shit. (Sylus): avoid the rack of lamb. its a bit overseasoned. (You): lol (You): you forget who you’re talking to. i sprinkle seasonings on my food until my ancestors whisper, “enough, child.”

He chuckles something throaty, something endeared. And he doesn’t realize he’s let his guard down until his henchman shifts behind him, clearing his throat. Sylus cuts his eyes over his shoulder, daring the man to utter a word. He doesn’t, straightening his tie and returning his attention to the scene ahead.

(Sylus): it might be a bit overpowering even for you sweetie. (Sylus): go for the duck confit or the grilled halibut. those are more your tastes. (You): thank youuuuu! 🙏🙏🙏 (Sylus): pair it with a glass of pinot gris. (You): gesundheit. (Sylus): and be sure to introduce me to your new intern friend before he whisks you out on a date next time. (You): 😛😛😛 (You): jealous?

Sylus doesn’t do jealous. It’s never been a word in his repertoire. Possessive, maybe. A little overprotective, sure. But jealousy suggests uncertainty—belly-baring surrender. Weakness—and Sylus is everything but weak.

He keys in a response that he knows will have you tipping out of your chair.

(Sylus): jealousy would imply that youre not already mine sweetie.

He can virtually hear the cogs turning in your mind when you take a few beats to respond. The resulting surprised dog meme you send makes him stifle that rich man’s laugh behind his hand.

You’re cute. Do you know that?

Leaving you with something to think about, he concludes your playful exchange.

(Sylus): have fun.

Peeling himself from the chair, he shoves his hands into his pockets, the arms of his coat dramatically fluttering behind him when he turns to exit the warehouse.

He pays no mind to the cries of agony behind him. Just clips over his shoulder to a stationary henchman by the entrance, “Finish up quickly.”

The sooner he cuts out the middlemen, the quicker the suppliers will start sniffing around themselves.

—

It’s a little past 6 pm when the front door’s lock jiggles.

Good. Perfect timing.

“You’re home early,” you call from the fridge when that messy thatch of white appears in the doorway.

He stiffens, taking a little time to appraise you like he didn’t expect you to be home. You snort, kicking the fridge door shut, a handful of grapes clutched in your hand.

You pop one into your mouth, leaning on the countertop. Syus approaches after toeing off his loafers and dropping his coat on the rack. The particles in the air seemingly bend and shift to accommodate him.

You try not to get hung up on what he said earlier—you know, when he insisted you were his.

Maybe he’d been drinking himself. You had a little Pinot at his behest to combat your flaring nerves. To knock a little sense into yourself.

“Why do you look like someone hacked Mephisto?” you jibe, trying to lighten the mood.

Sylus’ expression morphs into something easier. Something more like him as his lips pull into that familiar smirk. Without warning, he swipes a grape from your palm, and his eyes shine with a challenge as he deposits it in his mouth.

“Why do you look like you’re up to no good?” he returns in that deep gravel, tone threaded with a tenderness you’ve never heard expressed elsewhere.

Your jaw shifts. He’s lucky he’s cute. The pinnacle of manliness. Handsome as all hell. You’ve never known someone to make something as simple as eating look hot.

Clearing your throat, you swipe some invisible dust off the counter after finishing off the last of your grapes. “Not up to anything bad. But since you’re home, you can watch a movie with me.”

The silence hangs for a moment. You glance up to see your roomie eyeing you with an intrigued brow. He reaches over the counter to flick your forehead. You let out an unflattering yelp. He’s trying to scramble your brain matter, you just know it.

“Do I have a say in the matter, or are you just going to manipulate me with those dangerous eyes of yours?”

Your heart was already rabbiting in your chest. It works double time now, and your stomach drops to your feet. You’re stricken with something cold. Something halfway pleasant.

Oh. Oh, he was flirting, wasn’t he?

Opting for coy, you tug at some frayed threads at the end of your sweatshirt, caught between a laugh and a scoff.

“Unless you’ve got some mysterious phone calls to take, you’re mine for the night. You owe me for babysitting Mephie. You know he secretly wants to murder me.” And for leaving me all by my lonesome again, you inwardly add.

If at all possible, his smirk deepens until a dimple craters his cheek. You have pins and needles in your legs. What the fuck even is breathing?

“Doubt that. He’s programmed to…appreciate pretty things.” The way his eyes slide to you as pretty things leaps off his tongue—

You typically keep the AC low for the summer. Pretty comfortable for you both. But it feels it’s reached boiling point in your quaint kitchen as your skin grows embarrassingly hot.

After a deep breath to get your head together, you move to the pantry to fish out some popcorn. Your movements are noticeably stiff as you tear through the plastic, not daring to turn around, lest he get a look at that crooked smile on your face.

“Batman it is,” you say, loud enough for him to hear above the beep of the microwave when you set the timer.

You feel him between your shoulder blades. Drilling down to the marrow with those brilliant, scarlet eyes before he huffs a laugh, tapping the counter. You peer over your shoulder as he pulls away, disappearing across the house, probably towards his room to change.

He comes back down while you powder the popcorn with seasonings. He’s over your shoulder, static growing between your bodies. And you get a whiff of his worn cologne, of the clean cotton laundry detergent woven into the fibers of his shirt.

You move to the fridge, rifling through it to give your hands purpose. Something to occupy them, to keep them from shaking as you sort through your wine stash.

“What goes best with popcorn? I’ve got red, white, pink—oh, something I bought ‘cause the label looked cute.”

Propped against the counter’s edge beside you, arms crossed over that unfairly solid chest, Sylus shakes his head. “How about a glass of Michter’s 25? Bourbon pairs best with popcorn.”

“Uh, sure?”

You’re not entirely sure how the two mix. Probably something about the dolce colliding with the saltiness. Whatever. You like surprises. Your roomie’s always had pretty good taste.

He shoulders past you to reach for something at the top of the pantry. Amber gleams in an intricately designed bottle clutched in his hand. You give him a look, haughtily throwing some popcorn into your mouth.

“Has that been up there the whole time?”

You track him with your eyes as he draws two lowball whiskey glasses from the cupboard, then fetches some ice from the freezer. His expression’s amused while he pours. He plucks the glasses from the counter, signaling you to follow him to the living room.

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to find it, seeing that you’re the height of a gopher. I’d say I found a pretty good hiding spot for it.”

He laughs that bewitching, throaty sound, effortlessly avoiding your foot aimed at his ankle to trip him up.

—

The TV swaddles you in its sporadic lighting as each scene unfolds.

You turned down all the lights, save for the one above the stove, to add to the ambience. The sounds of scuffling and explosions fill your living room, with occasional quips from your roomie about the exaggerated action and how unrealistic the mobsters are.

There’s familiarity in the way you sit on the couch. In how Sylus idly smooths his thumb over your ankle, propped in his lap, beneath a throw blanket. He put up with you shoving your cold feet under his thighs to pilfer his warmth until he tickled them and allowed you to use him as a footrest.

One of his arms is draped along the backrest, clutching his half-drunk glass. He paces himself. You’re already on your third.

He turns to you with a twitch of a smile whenever he feels you staring at something other than the screen. Squeezes reassurance into your ankle before pretending like he’s consumed by the movie.

That Michter, whatever-the-hell it was called? It’s smooth. Dangerous. It crept into your bloodstream when your guard was down, and your head’s a little fuzzy. Skin warm and tingly, inhibitions slowly sloughing off.

You’re on your sixth round of Sylus-watching when the doorbell chimes. Both your gazes snap to its source.

“I’ll get it,” says Sylus, tapping your foot for you to let him up, and setting his glass onto the coffee table with a soft clack.

You shake your head, feeling like you’re swimming through molasses, eyes all low, smile goofy. “Nah. I got it.”

It’s a feat. Almost losing a fight with the blanket, you make it to the door. Sylus snorts behind you. The delivery driver is kind as he hands you your pizza and receipt.

Somehow, you make it back to the living area. You’re a mess of giggles and sluggish limbs as you fall back onto the sofa beside Sylus after dropping the pizza box onto the coffee table. So close, you could conquer the distance with an exhale.

His thigh’s warm beside yours. Devastating. You contemplate grabbing it, letting your fingers test the rigidness of his quad under the pretense of being tipsy.

He closes the distance for you as if parsing through your nebulous thoughts.

There’s no preamble. No remarkable setup when his arm slips from the backrest to snake around your shoulders. It’s a loose hang. Not tight, giving you room to wiggle free if you’re uncomfortable. You peer up into his face, and his eyes crease with something you mistake for affection beneath the glinting light of a chase scene.

The movie’s no longer interesting. It hasn’t been for a while. You’re warm inside, unsure if it’s a consequence of the alcohol or his proximity. Regardless, you toy with his fingers near your shoulder, smooth over his knuckles, testing the waters.

He makes no move to deter you, instead sinking deeper into the couch, legs spreading a little wider, hold on you a little more confident. He tugs you into his side without really thinking, fingers burning through the layers of skin on your arm.

Your hands drop to his tapered waist to ground yourself through the slurry haze of inebriation and infatuation. His heart is steady in his chest, whereas yours bangs like a war call. You’re close enough to bury your face into the hollow of his shoulder. That warm scent he carries is enough to soften your knees, to loosen your jaw.

Moving on autopilot—or maybe you’re fully aware of what you’re up to—you pitch yourself closer. So close, you’re halfway across his lap, watching his Adam’s apple bob beneath the blue wash of light. Your eyes flit to those full lips, slightly parted, quivering. Those pretty lashes sweeping his cheeks, those scarlet eyes jumping like cinders in a hearth fire beneath.

Your head tilts up. He meets you halfway. Draws you closer at the waist, and you roost your hands on his chest as your lids droop, as his lips pan in.

But the union never comes.

He hesitates for a beat. Hovers, a breath left between your mouths. Shaky, ragged, hot. He drops his forehead to yours, his grip on your hip tight, and he forces out an anguished sigh.

“You’ve been drinking, sweetie,” he says, hoarse, barely restrained, almost like he’s reminding himself instead of you.

You giggle, trying to tamp down your nerves. The disappointment flaring like plasma ejections across the sun’s surface beneath your skin. “So have you.”

He huffs through his nose, lips pulling into a tired smile. “Yes. But I’m also better at holding my liquor.”

“Says who?”

His gaze consumes you. Like liquid spilled over smoldering coals. He gathers your cheek into his palm, so tender as he thumbs over your chin, your bottom lip. He watches it when he tugs down, how it snaps back into place, its texture, and you can sense the edges of his resolve eroding like a rock face worn down by the surf.

“You’re warm. You can barely keep your eyes open.” His voice drags pleasantly along with his fingers along the skirt of your jaw. “You can hardly sit upright, sweetheart. If I do this now, I won’t be able to stop.”

Quivering fingers close around his wrist. You adjust on the couch until your knees meet the side of his thigh, nuzzling your molten cheek into his palm, head reeling. “Who says you have to?” you counter, voice crackling. Pleading.

He presses your foreheads together again. Your eyes slip shut as he slides his fingers into the space between yours, guiding your hand to his mouth instead for a kiss. He’s warring with himself. Berating himself for even letting things get this far. For getting too close.

He draws back slothfully, like it stings, like he’s leaving a bit of himself with you. And maybe he is, his defenses halfway buried beneath the floor. The moment hangs between you, stretched like the fragile spindles of a spider’s web. He doesn’t want to break the spell. You don’t want him to, either.

“Not yet,” he rasps, settling against the cushions once more and drawing you back into his side. “Not like this. You’ll thank me in the morning, sweetheart.”

Somehow, you have a hard time believing that, a wobbly pout taking hold of your lips.

It annoys you to no end.

Sylus is a man who doesn’t take what he isn’t given freely. Coherently. He’s such a fucking gentleman, you want to punch him sometimes. This emotional warfare is maddening.

Still, you curl into his side, burying your face into the nook of his neck to chase that heady scent. His pulse quickens, a sharp intake of breath when your lips graze his carotid, before he rests his chin on the crown of your head. He smooths over the goosebumps flaring over your arm as the credits roll, offering a quiet apology, both for getting your hopes up and shattering them like rock candy against the concrete.

Another almost. Another could-have-been. Another bout of shitty timing.

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#sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus fluff #love and deepspace sylus #lnds sylus #sylus #sylus qin #qin che #l&ds sylus #lads sylus #love and deepspace #roomie!sylus au #and they were roommates

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cosmicdahlias · 7 months ago

Text

And They Were Roommates

Logan Howlett x Reader

MINORS DNI

Your roommate, Wade Wilson, brings home an alcoholic Canadian bastard with knifes in his knuckles. After a month of putting up with him, an argument between you two goes in an unexpected direction.

tags: hard drugs mention, marijuana mention, alcohol usage, age difference, enemies to lovers, slapping, claws, hate fucking, mdom/fsub, breeding, degradation, praise kink, belt usage, choking, p in v, knifeplay (counting claw usage as knifeplay lmao), blood, creampie, possible impreg, aftercare, oral, multiple orgasms (emphasis on multiple), overstimulation

i’ve recently started watching the xcu movies after deadpool and wolverine dropped on disney+ and MY GODDDDDD have i been missing out!!! i’ve been an mcu girlie for so long (plus deadpool). the x-men movies are so fun but alsoooooo uhhhh hugh jackman as logan??? HELLO??? i need this man biblically like it’s not even funny. i have yet to watch logan (2017) but i’ve seen edits on tiktok and WHOA MAMA talk about a silver fox!!! also fun fact male wolverines bite down on the female’s neck during mating and i couldn’t resist including that in this fic. animalistic logan is THE BEST logan 👌

You were Wade Wilson’s friend turned roommate. You first knew each other through your other roommate, Althea, a blind woman who went by Al. At one point in time you were Al’s dealer before giving up that life once you got your degree and found steady employment. You never dabbled in the devil’s dandruff like Al did, as with the rest of gen Z, your drug of choice was weed. Your friends often asked why you chose an old woman and a mutant in his forties as roommates, but honestly rent was cheap and that was all you cared about.

You hadn’t seen Wade in a few days, he mysteriously disappeared during his birthday party. Neither you, nor any of his friends had any idea what had happened to him. You knew he’d kinda hit a rough’ish point in his life, giving up his assassin alter ego by the name of Deadpool for becoming a car salesman. You wondered if he had gone off on some sort of bender, but you honestly didn’t know.

You had just gotten off of work and opened the door to your apartment. Getting home took longer than expected, half of your street was cordoned off, from the damage looked like a bombing was the cause. You sat on the couch and pulled out your phone, trying to see if the local news had covered what had happened when door unlocked and swung open.

Wade walked in, sporting the iconic red suit you hadn’t seen him wear in six years. He was carrying the most… unique looking dog you’d ever seen and he was accompanied by a man with a rugged appearance who was wearing pants of similar material as Wade’s suit and nothing else. The stench of blood permeated the room.

“Al, I’m back.” Wade said.

“She’s out. Dude, where the hell have you been?” You asked.

“Oh no big deal, just saved the entire multiverse from total annihilation. I’m Marvel Jesus now.” Wade answered.

You elected to ignore his explanation. You never knew why you asked what he’d gotten up to whenever he wore that suit, none of it ever made a lick of sense to you.

“Who’s the dog?”

“Her? This four legged scrotum is Mary Puppins, or as I like to call her, Dogpool. Something… unfortunate happened to her last owner, so I’m her papá now.” Wade said cheerfully.

Knowing him, he definitely had something to do with whatever happened to her previous owner, but that wasn’t what you were asking about.

“Cute, but I was talking about the washed up Abercrombie & Fitch greeter next to you.”

The man rolled his eyes.

“Ohhhh, yeah that’s Logan. He’s gonna be crashing here for a while.”

“Wait, hold the fuck up. You disappear for days and you just show up in the suit you haven’t worn in years, reeking of blood, telling me some shirtless dude who also smells like blood is gonna live here like it’s no big deal?”

“Well funny thing is he doesn’t exactly know anyone else around here, not really his fault since I had to pull him from his universe and bring him here to save ours. May or may not have done so to a choir rendition of Madonna. You know, typical multiverse stuff and whatnot. I mean we’re Disney property now and that’s the horse they’re beating to death at the moment.” Wade answered.

Once again ignoring the exposition dump, you continued to protest.

“You can’t be serious, Wade! This is a two bed apartment. You and Al already share a room, so where the fuck are you gonna put him?”

“Isn’t that a couch you’re sitting on?” Logan scoffed.

“Oh perfect, so I can’t even use the goddam living room anymore?” You asked, growing even more irritated by Logan’s input.

“Jesus, you’re just a fuckin’ princess, aren’t you?” Logan huffed.

You glared at him before turning your attention back to Wade.

“Do I literally not get a say in this like at all? Even though I live here and pay my share of the rent?”

“Look, I promise it’s temporary. Just until he gets his footing in this universe. It won’t be so bad, I mean look him, total eye candy.” Wade said, gripping Logan’s face and turning his head to you.

Logan gave him a look that could kill. Long metal claws sprung out from just below his knuckles. Your eyes widened.

“THE FUCK ARE THOSE?” You shouted.

“Riiiiiiiight, so those are adamantium claws. They ain’t vibranium, but hey, can’t always be the number one. He’s a bonafide animal, in more ways than one, maybe you’ll find out for yourself.” Wade said, you could tell he was winking underneath his mask.

“The fuck do you mean by that?” Logan growled.

“Yeah, what?” You asked.

“Hey, I know sexual tension when I see it.” Wade retorted.

“I literally just met him.” You said.

“Yeah and with Hugh Jackman’s face and body, the time between introduction and need for face riding is a matter of seconds.” Wade said.

You gave a quick glance at Logan. Sure, he was incredibly attractive, but you sensed a sort of emotional unavailability that put you off. You had standards.

“You know my type and he’s not it, Wade.” You insisted.

“Forget type, he’s THE Wolverine. You know how many fanfics people read about this guy? Lookin’ at you, reader.” Wade said.

“Whatever, I’m not getting into a debate over my preferences for men.” You said, walking to your room and slamming the door.

“I think that went well.” Wade said.

A month had passed and much to your dismay, you were still being forced to share the apartment with Logan. At the very least he’d upgraded to wearing a shirt instead of walking around with his top half exposed.

After getting home from an exhausting shift at work, you opened the fridge, looking for the bottle of wine you saved for those evenings after a particularly long day. It was nowhere to be seen and you immediately knew who the culprit was.

“For fuck’s sake, Logan!” You shouted.

You headed to the living room to confront what was supposed to be your temporary roommate who sat on the couch.

“Christ, what now?” He groaned.

“Where the fuck is my wine?”

“Hm? Oh that? Yeah, it’s gone.” He answered dismissively, almost like taking time to respond or even look at you was beneath him.

“How many times do I have to tell you to keep your barely functioning alcoholic ass away from my stuff?”

“Didn’t see your name on it.”

“I specifically told you not to touch that fucking bottle multiple times.”

“Must’ve not been able to distinguish what you said from your typical bitching, I usually just tune that shit out.” He said, still not making eye contact with you.

“Jesus you really have no respect for anyone.” You spat.

Logan stood, coming in way too close for your liking.

“Respect? That’s a really funny word coming from someone who doesn’t respect themselves enough to not wear short little skirts like the one you’re wearing, bending over all the time to show off that ass.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh you fuckin’ heard me. You think I don’t see what you’re doing with the clothes you wear, or when you come out in the morning in nothing but a shirt and panties because you think I’m asleep and won’t notice?”

“Back the fuck up, the hell do you mean by ‘think’ you’re asleep?”

“I barely sleep enough as it is, I’m awake the second I hear your door open. You have any idea what seeing you like that does to me?”

You blushed.

“You’re fucking disgusting.” You said through gritted teeth.

“Please, you do it because you hope I’m watching you. I see the way you look at me. You can say you hate me all you fuckin’ want, but I can smell your goddam pheromones from across the room. I’ve been around for over two centuries and have more than enough experience to know when someone wants me. Especially when they’re acting like as much of a slut as y-“

You slapped him hard across the face. Logan immediately responded by pushing you up against the wall, unsheathing his claws and holding them under your chin. Neither of you said anything, the only sounds being a mix of him and you panting in anger.

Fuck, you had really grown to hate him, but something about his claws so dangerously close to you was playing into your kinks. You stole a glance down under, holy shit he was hard. You grabbed him by the face, kissing him aggressively. His claws retracted and he let his hands travel to your waist, pulling you closer.

“Mmf- fuckin’ knew it.” He said between kisses.

Logan picked you up by the underside of your thighs and carried you to your bedroom, his lips never once leaving you. He threw you down onto the bed, pulling your shirt over your head and unhooking your bra, tossing it aside. He took in the sight of your exposed chest.

“You’re such a pretty little thing, babygirl.”

His rough, calloused hand cupped your breast. He leaned down and you gave a yelp as he bit and tugged your nipple.

Logan chuckled. “Sensitive, aren’t you?”

You kissed him as you pulled his shirt off and traced your fingers along the dip between his abs. He unbuckled his belt, unzipping his jeans and slipping them off. Your eyes widened at the size of his cock, he laughed at your reaction.

“Yeah, like it don’t you?” He smirked.

“How the hell am I supposed to enjoy this if you’re gonna tear me in half?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t want it like that, I can tell you like it rough.”

“That’s a bold assumption to make.”

“Yeah? Keep telling yourself that.”

Logan pulled off your skirt and hooked his thumbs in the waistband of your panties, slipping them down your legs. He looked at your pussy with pure animalistic lust.

“Fuuuck babygirl, look how wet you already are for me. You got it that bad for older men, huh?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” You retorted.

“Oh I don’t have to, the way you’re dripping says more than enough.”

“Just shut up and fuck me already.”

You laid back on the bed with your head against the pillow and Logan flipped you over on your stomach, pulling you up to your hands and knees.

“No, you don’t get missionary. You act like a bitch? You’re getting fucked like one.”

Logan reached for his belt, he raised it, bringing it down sharply on your ass, making you squeal.

“This is what you get for being such a fuckin’ brat. From now on you call me ‘sir’, understand?”

“Like hell I will.“

He lashed you again.

“Keep talking back and see what happens. Now, what do you say?”

“Y- yes sir.”

“There you go. I’ll be nicer if you listen to me… maybe.”

Logan looped the belt around your neck.

“I’m keeping you on a leash in case you continue making smart comments.” He smirked.

“As if that’s gonna shut m- hrrrk!”

He pulled it tight, the leather dug into your skin and constricted your throat. The most you could get out was a strained moan.

“Got nothin’ to say to me now, huh? C’mon, tell me how much you hate me.” Logan mocked as he pulled harder.

You looked back at him and mouthed “fuck you”.

He laughed. “Oh I will.”

He pressed the tip of his cock against your slit for a fraction of a second before sharply forcing his full length deep inside you, causing you to cry out as his intimidating girth stretched you wide. He began to fuck you at a ruthless pace, the sounds of your yelps and squeaks filling the room.

“Poor thing, am I hurting you? It’s okay, I’m only fucking you senseless.” He teased.

His free hand gripped your ass, nails digging into your skin.

“Jesus Christ, you’re so fuckin’ tight. It’s like your little pussy was made for my cock.” He grunted.

Logan leaned down, sucking your neck, leaving mark after mark, his hand letting the belt loosen.

“You’re gonna look so pretty all marked up by me.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Are you seriously giving me hickeys? Really? What are you thirtee- ngh!”

Logan pulled tight on his belt again, keeping you from finishing your snide remark.

His thrusts became more aggressive, and as much as your feelings about Logan confused you, his cock felt incredible. You moved yourself back on him and he growled in approval.

“Yeah that’s it, take this fat cock like a perfect little slut. So good for me.”

He let go of the belt, both hands moving to your hips. His pace became punishingly fast and brutal. Between his growls and the way he fucked you like a dog, he honestly seemed more animal than man.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ breed you, I don’t care if you’re on the pill or not.”

You whimpered and tightened around him at his words. He smirked.

“Oh you like that?”

You nodded.

“Yeah? You wanna get knocked up? Tell me you want it, babygirl. Lemme hear you say it.”

“I need you to cum in me, get me pregnant. Please.” You begged.

He stopped his thrusts with only his head remaining inside you. He grabbed you by the throat and pulled you up against him, pressing his chest to your back.

“Please, what?” He commanded.

“Please, sir.”

He shoved you down onto the mattress and slammed himself fully back inside you, immediately resuming his vicious pace.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl.”

He panted like a wild animal, his claws slowly extending as he grew close.

“S- shit, sorry. Happens sometimes.” He said.

You tightened around him.

“Use them on me, hurt me, sir. Please, I need it so bad.” You whined.

“Goddam, you’re a fuckin’ freak. Aren’t ya, babygirl?”

He raked his claws down your back, you moaned obscenely loud as pearls of blood formed from the long slits he’d created. The mere sensation of it all immediately caused you to cum on his cock. The feeling of you pulsing around his shaft pushed him over the edge. He grunted as he buried himself to the hilt and leaned over, biting down hard on your neck, capillaries breaking under your skin. His cock throbbed with every rope of cum he shot into you.

“Fuuuuckin’ Christ, it’s not often I find someone that’s as into the hardcore stuff as me.” He chuckled.

Your whole body shook and you collapsed onto the mattress on your stomach. Logan removed his belt from your neck and got off the bed.

“Stay there, don’t move.” He said, pulling on his jeans and leaving the room.

He returned five or so minutes later with gauze, a roll of medical tape, and a wet hand towel.

“Had to really dig around for some of this stuff, when two out of four roommates regenerate there’s not a real demand.“

Logan got back onto the bed, sitting next to you.

“So what’s it like? To not heal immediately?” He asked as he dabbed at the blood on your back.

“I dunno, I never really thought about it. I guess you just deal with the pain for a few days, weeks, or months depending on what it is until it’s fine again.”

Logan chuckled.

“Sometimes I forget just how fragile everyone else is, until the world reminds me of it again and then…” He trailed off.

You could tell there was a heaviness to the latter half of his words, you knew why. Wade had told you that in Logan’s universe (a concept which took weeks for you to fully grasp) every single one of his fellow mutants had been murdered. You didn’t know the details, but you didn’t need to for you to understand why he was the way that he was. You looked up at him.

“It wasn’t your fault.” You said softly.

“What do you-“ his brow furrowed. “What did Wade tell you?” He growled as he covered his claw marks with gauze.

“Don’t get mad, I just- I wanted to know why you act like-“

“A dick?” He scoffed, pulling out a few inches of medical tape from the roll.

“Like someone with severe trauma.”

He went silent and looked away from your gaze as he finished adding the last line of tape to secure the gauze.

“…You’re all patched up.”

You moved to get up and dress yourself, but Logan wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you back onto the mattress.

“No, c’mere. Lay back for me.”

“Do I still have to call you ‘sir’?

“It’s alright, you can call me ‘Logan’ again. This is about making you feel good, not me. I think I owe you one for being such a good girl.”

You laid with your head against the pillow and Logan began to kiss his way down the length of your body until his head was between your thighs. His lips were so close to your pussy that you could feel the heat of his breath.

“Didn’t peg you for the kinda guy that gives head.”

“You thought wrong. I’m eating this pussy until you’re shaking for me.”

His lips met your clit, his tongue rolling and circling it. You moaned and tangled your fingers in his hair.

“Fuckin’ Christ, your scent is addictive.” He growled against you, making you shudder as the deep vibrations went straight to your clit.

You bucked your hips and he moved his hands to them, keeping you in place.

“Eeeeasy there. I know it feels good, but you can’t move around like that if I’m gonna eat you out, babygirl.”

He slipped two fingers inside you, curling them at just the right spot to absolutely send you over the edge. Your breath shuddered as you tightened around him.

“That’s it. C’mon, be a good girl and cum for me.”

You gripped his hair harder as you came undone on his tongue, pulsing around his fingers.

“Fuuuuuck, Logan!”

Your back arched off the bed, he pressed a hand to your stomach, holding you down.

“No, I’m not done with you yet.”

He continued sucking and licking your clit, his fingers fucking you hard and fast. You shook, feeling a second orgasm build. Your head cocked back as all of the nerves in your body ignited in pleasure for a second time. You expected Logan to remove his mouth, but he kept going.

“Fuck, I can’t stop. You’re just too goddam perfect when you cum.”

You moaned loudly, your clit throbbing in his mouth as you came for a third time, cursing like a sailor and writhing against his tongue.

“You doing good there, babygirl?” Logan asked.

“Uh-huh.” You murmured.

At some point everything went hazy and you lost track of just how many times he’d made you cum. The more you had, the quicker the next one came, until it was one immediately after another. You were a shaking, stuttering mess.

“L- Logan, I ca- an’t keep going. I- it’s too m- much.”

“Shhh, you’re okay. Just one more time, I promise.”

He pumped his fingers relentlessly, his tongue working your clit at an equally vigorous pace. Every muscle in your body tensed as the most intense orgasm you had ever felt in your life rocked you to your very core and everything went white for a moment.

“Ohhhhh godddd, Logan. You’re gonna fucking kill meeee.” You groaned.

Logan moved himself to get on top of you, kissing you deeply.

“I’m sorry babygirl. I know I pushed you hard, but you did so well for me.” He whispered softly, holding your face in his hand and stroking your cheek with his thumb.

He laid next to you, pulling you to him, his chest pressed against your back as your post orgasm haze finally subsided.

“Never saw you as the cuddling type.” You said.

“Depends on how I feel about whoever I’m fucking, and unfortunately for me I’m starting to actually like you.”

“And what did I do to deserve that?”

“Well, you’re still a total bitch, but you’re actually pretty sweet when you want to be. I like you that way though, makes things interesting. I’ll admit when you slapped me I got so fuckin’ hard.”

“So, you’re saying I should slap you more often?”

“I’m not saying no, but just expect to lose the ability to walk after I fuck it out of you.”

“You got yourself a deal.”

He pressed a kiss to the back of your neck.

“Good. Now, there’s something you should know. Regeneration doesn’t just mean that I heal quickly.” He said, pressing the hard bulge in his jeans against you.

“Holy shit, so… we could fuck all night without stopping?”

“Exactly.”

“Then what the hell are we doing just lying here?”

Logan turned you onto your back, getting on top of you.

“Attagirl, let’s fuckin’ go.”

The two of you spent the whole night fucking like rabbits nonstop. When morning came you made your way to the kitchen. Logan followed, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you from behind as you made yourself a cup of coffee. He buried his nose in the crook of your neck, taking in your scent.

“I hope you know I’m never gonna get enough of you.” He said, his hands traveling underneath your shirt to your breasts.

“I swear, you’re hornier than a dog that hasn’t had his balls chopped off.” You teased.

“Yeah and you love it.”

“There you go with the assumptions again, you’re so right though.” You purred, turning to him.

“I know I am.”

His lips met yours and he lifted you onto the counter. You laced your fingers in his hair and wrapped your legs around him. Both of you were too focused on each other to notice the sound of a door opening. Wade walked out from the room he shared with Al carrying Mary Puppins.

“Judging by the NC-17 noises I heard all night I’m guessing you two had fun.” Wade said, causing you to jump and pull away from Logan.

“For fuck’s sake, do you not know when to leave people alone?” Logan huffed.

“Oh c’mon peanut, you know boundaries aren’t my forte. It’s my toxic trait.”

Logan glared at him.

“Alright alright, I can take a hint. Just try not to get any fluids on the appliances. I certainly don’t mind a little Wolvie in my coffee, but I don’t think Al would appreciate it.” Wade said, heading back to his room.

Logan turned his attention back to you, his lips brushing against yours.

“Now, babygirl, where were we?”

#x men #wolverine #logan howlett #wolverine fanfic #wolverine smut #wolverine x reader #logan howlett fanfic #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x reader #my fics

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moonchildstyles · 8 months ago

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pomegranate

pomegrante part one: harry and y/n are roommates and she doesn't want him to feel lonely

wordcount: 14.2k+

—————

Harry's brows knitted together as he lifted his eyes from the avocado he was slicing, eyes flitting to the television from where he stood at his kitchen island. Truthfully, he didn't know why he kept watching this show when he never agreed with any of the contestants' decisions. More often than not, he came away frustrated when he watched these singles fumble budding relationships in favor of the near-mythical 'something better' they were convinced was out there. He couldn't understand why they prioritized sex with someone they didn't even know existed yet over someone right in front of them, that was more than enough.

Shaking his head when he saw another shirtless, spray-tanned man with a head of permed curls on the top of his head pull a beautiful girl to the side for a "chat", Harry directed his attention back to the strokes of the knife under his hand. His sushi bake would be out of the oven soon and he needed to get all of his fix-ins in order before the timer ran out.

Just as he stowed away his slices of avocado and started on the edamame pods he planned on salting and marinating, the humming of the garage door rolling up rumbled through the house. A slight smile touched at his cheeks, already anticipating the clicking of heels he would no doubt hear before the door leading from the garage to the kitchen would be swung open with a huff.

(Y/N) had been on a date tonight, and there was no way it had gone well if she was already home. Only an hour away didn't make for a particularly fun night.

As expected, only moments after the garage had been closed and he heard the slam of her car door, (Y/N) trudged in from the extension with a tired expression on her face.

"Hey, H," she sighed, already bending over to take her shoes off despite barely making it onto the tile of the kitchen floor.

"Hi, (Y/N)," he greeted, turning around with his avocado slices left behind, "Bad night?"

He didn't have to see her face to know she was rolling her eyes.

"The worst." She stood up to her full height—sans high heels, of course—with a flick of her hair. "I should've just stayed home with you. I wouldn't have been bored to near tears with you."

For a second, Harry felt his heart sitting in his throat. Did she have any idea what it did to him when she talked like that—joked like that? Years into this friendship with no shortage of her sweetened comments, he doubted she did. He just hoped that she didn't notice his cheeks reddening and the way his hands suddenly didn't know what to do.

"'M sorry," he murmured, "Was he nice at least?"

(Y/N) shrugged, the silk straps of her top shifting over her smooth shoulders. "Nice enough—he just likes talking about himself, I think."

Harry's lips thinned at her comment. He couldn't imagine being anything but the best listener for (Y/N); who wouldn't want to hear everything that was going on in her head and the piles of stories, however mundane, she could share?

"Well, unless you're too tired, we could watch our show? Dinner will be ready soon if y'were still hungry."

It was the way she seemingly inflated, light in her eyes with her hands brought to her chest all to match the bubbly smile on her lips, that had his heart springing in his chest.

"You'd share your dinner with me?"

You can have everything of mine, as long as you keep looking at me like that.

A mild smile curled his lips in hopes of concealing everything bubbling underneath his skin. "Of course. 'S a salmon sushi bake, if that sounds any good to you."

"That sounds so good, H. You're the best, thank you."

Her smile was dazzling when she turned it on him. Thank god he had set his knife down, or he would have lost a couple of fingers at this point.

This time, he couldn't shake the smile that bloomed over his lips, however sheepish it was. "Of course—um, thank you."

A peal of laughter left her lips as she traipsed out of the kitchen, heels in hand. "You're so sweet. I'm gonna change, but I'll be right back!"

As if in a swirl of cherry blossoms and white lace, (Y/N) was gone. Along with her went the sparks that flooded his bloodstream and tremors in his fingers.

God, he'd have thought knowing her since university days he would be used to her at this point. It was as if becoming roommates those couple of months ago did the opposite of acclimating him to her presence. He wasn't sure there was anything about her—the way she looked, the way she acted, the way she talked—that didn't hold even a bit of magic in his eyes.

The sound of the oven timer going off brought Harry back to real life. Now that he was planning on sharing this dinner with (Y/N), he wanted to ensure everything was perfect. One of his favorite things about living with her was being able to take care of her through simple things like cooking dinner or making coffee in the morning. Every night she went out on a date or took a night off to go out for a girls night, he was there to get the rundown of her time away and feed her toast and water to lessen the blow of the morning hangover as much as he could. He was there for any and everything—even if he wasn't necessarily in the mood to hear about her feelings for another. He would rather be on her side even if she was on someone else's arm, than not be there at all.

All while (Y/N) was readying herself for a night in with Harry, he was focusing on his knife strokes and mixing the different sauces to be drizzled over the bake. By the time she emerged with a set of pajamas on and her hair twisted out of her face, Harry had crafted the perfect dinner to be shared over an episode of their tropic reality dating show.

He didn't wait for her before he was putting together her plate, dressed the way he knew she liked, sheets of nori off to the side along with a pair of chopsticks he taught her how to use years ago.

"There's extra in the kitchen if y'want more," he murmured as he passed the plate to her hands, taking the spot on the couch at her side.

"This looks so good, H," she beamed, looking at him with something he liked to think of as affection in her eyes, "Thank you again, really. You're already making my night so much better."

"Good," he swallowed, dropping his eyes to the tip of her nose, "'M glad I could—um—make y'happy."

He could have cringed at the sound of his fumbling words, but that was only cut off when (Y/N) shot him a beaming smile and gave him a hug in the form of wrapping her arm around his own and resting her head on his shoulder for a lingering moment.

"Wait! Wasn't he paired with Amber an episode ago?"

(Y/N)'s bubbled outrage was the perfect cover to the way his heart had landed in his throat. This way, he could concentrate on anything but himself and the reactions he was having over someone who was supposed to be just his friend.

"Yeah," Harry murmured, wrapping a bite of crispy rice and marinated salmon on a sheet of nori, "He pulled Lissa over for a chat at the start of this one."

"Of course, he did," (Y/N) grumbled.

While he would never wish anything but pure joy on her, Harry couldn't help the way his own happiness sprouted in his chest. He would never pass on a night like this.

—————

"Can I lay on you?"

Harry blinked back to earth at the sound of (Y/N)'s voice over the familiar episode of a long ended reality show they'd already watched hundreds of times. Looking to her end of the couch, she was already slouched into the corner cushion, eyes heavy and hair tucked not a mess away from her face.

He didn't think before he nodded his head, uncurling his legs to allow her space to lay her head. She murmured her gratitude in a sleepy voice as she stretched across the cushions to rest her head on his thighs.

It was a familiar move, something that (Y/N) had done many times even prior to their roommate situation coming to fruition. She'd spilled to him more than once that she was a cuddly person—touchy-feely, was the way she put it—taking and loving all of the physical affection she was able to collect. Including from Harry, who always seemed to take the whole thing entirely too seriously. It was cute, she'd said, cute enough she couldn't help but to laugh.

Tonight, she was already heavy-eyed and loose-limbed by the time she settled against his legs. Her hands were tucked under her cheek, a small barrier between his thigh and her cheek though he could still feel every ray of her warmth no matter what.

He did his absolute best to stay relaxed despite the instinct to straighten his spine and tense his muscles at the affectionate way she laid over him. He wanted to be the best pillow he could be for her, and that wouldn't be possible if he resembled a wooden plank more than a fluffed case of feathers.

Harry's win came in the form of a languid sigh that left her lips, (Y/N) practically going boneless against him.

"You're the best, H," she murmured, just barely audible over the club music sounding from the television. "Thank you."

Swallowing, he allowed his eyes to glaze over her form without her own watchful gaze on him. Hearing those words attached to that mouth from this gorgeous girl, was going to make him burst.

"You're welcome," he whispered, urging his eyes to move on from the sliver of her midriff on display from the ruched hem of her top.

As expected, a breathy laugh came from (Y/N). "You can touch me, you know," she said, twisting just enough to look up at him through flared lashes, "You don't have to keep your hands up like that."

He hadn't even realized he froze with his limbs hovering over her, resting away as if there were a barrier holding him back. "Oh," he sounded, blood burning behind his cheeks, "Sorry."

Could he be any more pathetic? Embarrassment surged through his veins. Was there any other way he could make it that much more obvious just how nervous (Y/N) made him?

In a set of cautious movements, his hands floated back down to her form. He gently settled his palm on the cuff of her shoulder while the other rested near her head, where strands of hair brushed the stretch of his fingers.

"It's okay," she said, the smile evident in her voice despite Harry not seeing the curl, "You're so silly, H."

It was the way her voice trailed off, taking on a deeper octave than before, that showed him just how close she was to finding the other side of her eyelids. He instinctively began running his thumb along the ball of her shoulder, a circuit that had him skimming her soft skin with the sleeve of her top pushed out of the way.

There was something about seeing her skin being dented by his touch, a touch that wasn't particularly strong or even rough at all. She wondered if she was able to feel the whorls of his print, the creasing of his knuckle. It was an innocent enough feeling, his hand upon her arm, but he felt his heart beginning to thump. His throat was thick enough he felt his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed.

This was another facet that only took on a life of its own, the casual intimacy that had been sparked between them now that they shared a home. Laying her head on his shoulder in a passing hug, resting her head on his lap, practically asking him to put his hands on her as she was lulled to sleep. Logically, he was sure this was supposed to get easier as it went, the more it happened the magic was supposed to lessen. But, that just didn't happen.

His heart still thumped heavily. His stomach tightened and pitted and warmed. His... well, other parts of him appreciate the touching too, even if he resented focusing on those parts of himself.

It felt more than wrong to acknowledge his baser interests in her, not when she was such a kind and loving friend to him. If that boundary between them was meant to be crossed, there were plenty of times both during their university days and the years that followed, that gave perfect opportunities for that line to be wiped away and crossed in favor of something new. Instead, they were still just friends—best friends, even.

You're not supposed to get hard over your best friend. Not when she was doing nothing but falling asleep in his lap. Not when she was relaxing in her own home in comfortable pajamas—even if they were comprised of a soft t-shirt and pair of shorts just a touch too small that rolled up at the hem, giving more and more skin for his eyes to feast upon. Without a bra, of course. A fact evident in the way her nipples would peak against the material.

No, he was not supposed to be hard over that. Not to mention the glaring fact that she spent nearly every weekend on a date with someone or going out with the express purpose of having fun and meeting other people.

There was also, of course, the most prominent issue: he's a virgin. Even if he somehow managed to see more than just a friendship in him, he would have no idea how to take care of her. (Y/N) was someone who had experienced enough physical affection that she no doubt knew what she enjoyed and what she didn't; there was little to no appeal to teaching the one you're in bed with how to do the most basic of acts.

So he would keep his distance, even if the rest of his body refused to get on the same page.

"Are you okay?"

(Y/N)'s mumbled voice shook Harry from his thoughts. Blinking back to the real world, she was tipping her head up to look at him with sleepy eyes.

"Hm?" he hummed, aware of the way his hand had gone still on her arm and his bones had grown stiff.

"Do you want me to move or something?" she murmured, "So you can get comfortable? Sorry if I made your leg fall asleep."

Harry's skin warmed to a flushing red. Of course, he would grow restless when she was on his mind. Taking stock of his body, at least he knew he wasn't that hard; any longer in his mind and he may have had a problem.

"'S alright, 'm alright," he rushed out, "Jus' think 'm getting tired. Sorry."

She smiled up at him, her hair haloing around her head in his lap. "It's okay," she laughed, "Do you want to go to bed? We can keep watching tomorrow instead."

That was what he needed at the moment: distance. Some peace and quiet and a moment to get his head on straight. "Let's go to bed," he affirmed, mimicking her soft smile.

Her movements were lethargic as she moved off of his lap. A curling stretch had her raising her arms above her head, the hem of her top lifting just enough to show a sliver of skin above the waistline of her shorts. Harry quickly retracted his eyes, settling his gaze to his feet instead.

Turning to him, with eyes slightly hooded and limbs languid, (Y/N) gave him a smile. "Goodnight, H," she mumbled, "Thanks for making my night better."

Collecting him in her arms, Harry didn't have to think before he was reciprocating her hug. The scent of her perfume twisted around him, stray hairs tickling the tip of his nose. Her words echoed in his head.

He made her night. She made his life.

"Goodnight, (Y/N)," he crooned, melting into her hug for just a moment longer before unwrapping himself from her hold. "'M happy I could help."

Her smile was sweet as she turned on her socked feet towards her bedroom. "See you in the morning."

He watched as she pushed open her bedroom door, her eyes glanced over her shoulder at him. Her pretty, pretty eyes.

"See you in the morning."

With that, the night ended as she closed her bedroom door behind her.

Though she stayed just where she was on Harry's mind.

—————

Harry wiped his hands clean now that the sink was cleared of all dirty dishes. The clock on the stove detailed the time as eleven thirty-two, a half an hour longer than he meant to stay up tonight. But, he supposed that's what happened when he decided to take a nap instead of cleaning up the kitchen after dinner.

Quiet voices sounded through the living room from the show running on the television though Harry didn't pay it any mind as he swept through the space. (Y/N) was out for a girls night, leaving it Harry's turn to take care of the common spaces to ensure neither of them would have to tidy anything in the morning. Plus, he didn't think it would be very nice of him to leave her stumbling over his pile of shoes when she came home after a night of drinking and crashing on a friend's couch.

He could still see traces of her scattered about the space in the form of stray glitters from her outfit, a pair of loose hair ties left on the table by the door, right next to her usual handbag ransacked with only a few random items left in it from the essentials she pulled from it to take out on the town with her. He hoped she was having a fun night—she deserved it.

After cleaning up and turning off the television and lights, Harry retired to his bedroom upstairs. Turning on some music through his headphones, he started on his nighttime routine. It was definitely less extensive than the one he'd seen (Y/N) do night after night, but there were a few serums and techniques he'd stolen from her—including the lavender room spray he was addicted to misting through his room before laying his head down. It turned his dreams decadently sweet, he thought. (Or it could be because he always fell asleep with (Y/N) on his mind, the lavender scent reminding him of her every night without fail).

But, this time, when he laid his head on his fluffed pillow, delicate music filtering through the space from his bluetooth speaker, Harry wasn't ready to go to bed. He had known the evening nap he took wasn't the smartest idea, leaving his limbs restless and eyes wide open. As soon as he knew (Y/N) was home safe in the morning, Harry planned on running all of the errands he'd pushed off this weekend, and a late wakeup time wasn't going to be the most productive move.

There were only so many things he could think of doing to tire himself out. Scrolling on his phone was a no-go considering how he knew the blue-light would only urge him to stay awake, his book was too riveting to be a useful bedtime story, and going for a run this late wasn't the best option. He just needed to tire himself out.

Fitting his bottom lip between his teeth, Harry figured there was another option.

He wasn't quite in the mood at the moment, he could put himself there he figured. He doubted it would take much work, really.

As if this were a laborious task, Harry kicked his comforter from his hips with a sigh. He reached for his phone on instinct, opening up a familiar application to help color his imagination. Without much ceremony, he pushed his sweats down just enough to fit his hand down his underwear. He would do this quickly, he decided; fast and hard, to put him to sleep sooner rather than later.

It didn't take long to feel himself harden in his grasp, photos and videos of various couples wrapped around one another and those in solo situations fueling his head. His breathing grew heavy in his chest, mouth falling open as a particularly titillating video of a woman with her hands between her legs filled his screen.

With the audio still playing, Harry's head fell back against the pillows. His eyes fell closed, a sigh leaving his lips. Pulling his hand from his length, he brought the appendage to his mouth before spitting against his palm. With his hand now slick, the wet pumps of his fist along his cock now filled the air. His toes curled in his sheets, free hand tightly gripping his phone.

While it wasn't something he wanted to do, it was terribly easy to let his mind wander to the pretty girl that had left him home alone tonight. The fit of her dress had been hard enough to process when he was clear minded, now that was a nearly impossible task.

The dress was new, a silky piece with embroidered flowers and thick straps cuffing her shoulders. It was tight along the bodice, cupping her breasts and curve of her waist before flaring out along her hips. The hem cut off at the mid of her thigh, leaving the length of her legs on display down to the comfortable shoes she chose for the night. (The high heels from the weekend prior had been shoved to the back of her closet for the time being, the blisters on her feet enough to have her avoiding them at the moment).

It was a terrible, horrible, repulsive thought to have about his roommate, but Harry knew that all it would have taken was a bend of her hips and he would have seen the curve of her bottom. If he had been bold enough to look, he was sure he would have caught a glance down the bodice of her dress when she came to him to say goodbye for the night.

His cock twitched at the reminder of her body pressed against him when she hugged him goodbye. If he was a different man and they were in a different situation, he would have grabbed her hips and held her close. He would have found the line of her panties through her dress, felt the curve of her bottom over the silk.

He liked to imagine she would hold him back, that she would lean into the angles and muscles of his body. He could see her tipping her head, leaving him the room to drop his lips over the curve of her neck and shelf of her collarbone.

He liked to imagine her wanting him back. That he would be able to satisfy her and take her expertly, tying her to him as he pushed his hand between her legs—or, god, his head—and brought her to the edge. What he wouldn't give to know what the melody of her voice sounded like when steeped in pleasure.

Harry pumped his hand that much harder along his length, the put of his stomach growing tight like the thick bands of muscles on his thighs. His breathing was harsh, wheezing out against his clenched teeth.

"Fuck," he panted, hips bucking against his hand when he thought of what could have happened had he pushed (Y/N)'s dress up to her middle. Precum dribbled from his tip, streaking down to his shaft and mixing with the slick of his spit.

He was going to cum, he could feel it. His muscles were bunched tight, eyes screwed shut with his own personal pornography projected against his eyelids.

"Harry, are you awa—Oh! Oh my god, bye!"

In a second, Harry snapped from the throes of pleasure just to see the tail-end of (Y/N)'s silken dress flashing out of his doorway. Behind her, his door slammed shut, cutting her words in half.

She wasn't supposed to be home. She was supposed to be spending the night at Rue's house. What was she doing here?

Oh, god—fuck—she's home. (Y/N) came home and saw him jerking himself off to the thought of her. Shit, fuck, shit.

His movements were fumbling and disjointed as he pulled his pants back up and attempted to wipe his hand of the evidence against a dirty t-shirt that should have been in his hamper. Jesus Christ, what the fuck was he thinking? He was so lost in his head, he didn't even hear the door open? Didn't hear her footsteps stomping up the stairs?

Was he supposed to talk to her? Or were they supposed to avoid each other until someone inevitably broke the lease and they never spoke to one another ever again?

The latter option hurt his chest, but the former cast his body in a sweat.

He sat on the edge of his bed, eyes trained on the floor beneath his feet.

Why couldn't he have just gone to sleep? Why did he have to take that nap and leave him thinking he needed to tire himself out? Why did this have to happen?

Did she know he was thinking of her? He wasn't entirely mindful of his words, had he let out a call of her name? How long had she been home before she barged in?

Harry hung his head, shaking his head as he attempted to spool himself back in. If not for the fact that he was concerned about the fact she'd made her way home instead of staying with her friends, he's sure he would have spent the entire night hiding in his home. But, unfortunately, his heart still beat for her and he needed to know that she was okay, at the very least.

Summoning the courage, Harry stood from his seat at the edge of her bed, his hands shaking before curling into fists. They were best friends—she'd seen him with his head hung over the toilet with chunks being hurled from his mouth, with greasy limp hair until he figured out the right products for his strands, the puffy-eyed, snot-nosed sobs he let out when he failed his first mid-term their entry year of university. There were few more embarrassing situations to be found in.

He was telling himself that, anyway.

Steeling himself, Harry moved to push open his door and seek out (Y/N) only to be stopped in his tracks when he ran right into her.

"Harry!" she bubbled, wobbling in her spot as she reached out to grab his arms. She steadied herself with the grip. "Are you okay? Sorry, I didn't know you were there."

It was then that he noticed the slur to her words. Her eyes, ever pretty and with only remnants of mascara remaining, were glassy. More than being startled as she ran into him, she had reached for him to keep her steady on her feet. She smelled of perfume, a dark bar's worth of smoke and cologne, and the sting of alcohol.

"'M alright," he mumbled, reaching for her arm across his chest as he scrutinized "Are you?"

"Mhm," she hummed, blinking up at him, "Are you?"

A small smile touched the corner of his mouth. She almost made it easy for him to forget what had happened just moments earlier. "'M alright," he repeated, "I didn't know y'were coming home tonight."

"Oh yeah. I was supposed to," she sighed as if there was a length of story behind her words, "But, Rue got busy, so Kim said I could stay at hers, but honestly I just wanted to come back to you. I felt bad leaving you to have dinner by yourself, and I missed you so I just had her boyfriend drop me off here."

God, had his blunder even happened? Hearing her say I missed you so flippantly all while clutching his arms and blinking right up at him was enough to bring him to his knees. She wasn't acting at all like she'd just walked in on his private moment.

"Oh," he sounded, finding his words, "I hope I didn't make y'feel like y'needed to come back."

She shook her head before he even finished talking. "No, no, no. I wanted to come home—I wanted to be with you. I wish you'd come out with us sometime, you'd have so much fun."

While Harry was reeling over her words, the sentiments she was sharing so freely, (Y/N) traipsed past him. The ghost of her grip on his arms stuck around in the moments after she left him behind to approach his bed. He turned to face her with his lips rolled between his teeth in an effort to keep anything embarrassing from spilling off his tongue, only to see her slipping off her shoes.

She left them in an unceremonious pile by his bed when she caught him looking. "What?"

"What—um—what are you doing?" He hoped he didn't sound as rude as he did in his head. Truly, he didn't know what she was doing, beginning to shed the night while in his room.

Unabashedly, she looked up at him with a flutter of her lashes. "Can I stay here with you? Like a sleepover?"

His heart stopped in his chest only to leap up to the base of his throat. "A sleepover?"

"Yeah," she sighed, pulling at the hem of her dress, "Is that okay?"

Logically, with how intoxicated she was, it was the safer option to keep her with him tonight. In case anything were to happen, of course.

(There was everything else bubbling in his stomach, too. All the bubbles popping with whispers urging him on to keep her just where she was amongst all of his things, where he can take care of her.)

"Y'can stay," he murmured, offering a soft smile as he gazed at her. "Do y'want me to grab some clothes for you?"

"Sure," she chirped, already blindly dealing with her hair, "Thank you, Harry."

He gave her another smile before he left towards her bedroom a floor below. Somehow, within the confines of his home, fresh air entered his lungs and cleared his middled head. Being around her right now was making Harry feel just as drunk as she actually was.

Maybe she hadn't seen what he was doing when she walked in? While he couldn't imagine he wasn't being completely obvious with his hand at his groin and head thrown back, she may have been too drunk to realize what he was doing. Otherwise, Harry just couldn't fathom how he was being so normal afterwards—asking if she could have a sleepover in his room, even.

Pulling out a set of pajamas from the stack of laundry on the end of her bed, Harry tried not to dwell as he started back up the stairs to his bedroom. If she didn't want to talk about it, neither would he. (If he had any luck on his side, she might not even remember what she may or may not have seen. The memory might be one of the few that went fuzzy for her).

Heading back into his bedroom, (Y/N) was sat crossed legged on his bed, eyes decidedly much heavier than when he had left her. Her hair was now tied up and out of the way of her face, shoes and socks in a messy pile on his floor. She perked up when he entered, eyes brightening though still glassy and tired.

"You're back! You were gone for so long, I was scared you forgot I was home."

Harry could only laugh at her declaration. How could he ever forget about her, let alone when she was asking to spend the night in his bed?

"Couldn't forget about you," he admitted, his smile soft as he dropped his eyes from hers, "I hope these are alright to sleep in."

He passed off the sleep clothes he picked for her, watching as she unfurled the pieces without even looking at them. "They're perfect, H. Thank you so much."

Standing up from her spot on his bed, she didn't hesitate before wrapping him in a hug. Harry stood motionless for a brief moment, attempting to process the affection. All while clad in the tiny dress he had just been fantasizing about barely twenty minutes prior, the full of her soft body was pressed against his.

Would he ever not react like a teenager with a crush when it came to her? How much longer would he feel with the racing heart and sweaty palms until his instincts caught up with the reality of her disinterest in him in that way?

Reciprocating her hold, Harry hugged (Y/N) to his chest. She all but melted into him, the effect of the alcohol in her system weighing her down (though he would like to imagine it was because she liked holding him as much as he did her). He was sure she could feel the rapid beat of his heart under her cheek—hopefully a distraction from the touch of his unsure hands hovering across her back.

"You're so warm," she mumbled against the material of his shirt, the words slurred and nearly unintelligible. "You should've come out with me tonight; I forgot my jacket but I would have at least had you."

Harry's fingers tensed over her back. The pumps of his heart throbbed down to his fingertips, his lashes fluttering in a blink. She had to stop talking like that; he was already well into losing his mind over her, there was no need to keep piling it on.

"Sorry," he breathed, the word feeling lame as it fell from his tongue.

He made no move to recoil from her until she did, making the first move to unwrap her arms from around his middle. His eyes followed her as she focused then on trudging to his bathroom and dressing for the night. She tossed a noncommittal promise to be right back over her shoulder before disappearing behind his bathroom door.

Left alone, Harry sat on the edge of his bed. He looked at the floor to where her mess of discarded accessories lay in a rumpled pile, a visible cue of her presence.

She'd never asked to stay in his bedroom like this before. Even on other nights where she clamored home with alcohol in her blood, she'd never stumbled into his room with the intention of having a "sleepover" with him.

But, of course, the one night she does, is when she walks in on him with his hand down his pants.

The reminder of the moment had a heavy sigh heaving his chest. He wished he was just as drunk as (Y/N), that way he had a chance of possibly forgetting the incident in the morning. Instead, he had a feeling he was going to be dwelling on it for at least another week, if not more. On the plus side, it didn't appear she had any intention of talking to him about it.

In a clumsy string of movements, (Y/N) made her entrance back into his bedroom with a strong swing of the door. Her clothing was rumpled as she padded across the floor on bare feet. She only barely acknowledged him before she threw herself onto his bed.

Harry let out a breathy laugh. "Do y'want anything to drink or eat before y'fall asleep?"

"No," she moaned, wriggling her way into his bedding. "Tired."

"Do y'need to take off your makeup?" he pressed, standing to help her adjust the layers of sheets and comforter over her form.

"I already did," she countered, tugging the bedding up to her chin as she gazed up at him. Truthfully, he couldn't tell if she really did remove her makeup given the shadows still around her eyes, but if that's the story she was going with, he wasn't arguing.

"Alright," he sighed, knotting his hands together as he stood beside his bed as if it wasn't his own, "Y'really want to have a sleepover tonight?"

(Y/N) didn't even blink before she was nodding her head. "Yeah. Your bed is bigger than mine."

Harry hummed, now seeing the root of her new fascination with spending the night with him. "And y'want me to stay with you?" he asked, wanting to ensure they were both on the same page.

"Duh," she laughed, turning until she was comfortable with her head on the pillow he'd just been laying against. "Lay down, we're supposed to talk before we fall asleep like a real sleepover."

While he found humor in the whole situation, his hands still held a slight tremor as he turned down his side—his side—of the bed.

Was this how he was supposed to do this? How did one share a bed? Other than true sleepovers as a kid, where he and friends would squeeze into beds too small after staying up way too late, there was never a time he'd shared a bed with another. Especially not so with someone he held... extra feelings for. Feelings that he hadn't quite shaken if the way his briefs were just a touch tighter than they should be was anything to go by.

Working on autopilot, Harry slid into bed. He could feel the dip in the mattress from (Y/N)'s body, a certain warmth spreading across his sheets he'd never experienced before. The scent of her night still clung to her, though now the fragrance of fresh sheets and Harry's own cologne swirled between them. Sleepy blinks were offered to him as he stiffly laid among his bedding, (Y/N)'s tired eyes trained on him.

He swallowed, feeling the weight of her attention on him. "What are y'th—"

His line of questioning was cut off when (Y/N) sloppily rolled towards him, lying flush against the line of his body. She molded herself to him with a sigh, her head snuggled into the cove underneath his chin.

"What did you do tonight?" were her mumbled words, slurred and fuzzy against his neck.

Harry, stunned for the moment, laid still. Those moments with her head laying on his lap or a press of their shoulders together could do nothing to prepare him for this. (Y/N)'s slight shuffle against him was enough to knock him back to earth, his limbs carefully laying around her in a delicate hold.

"Um, what?" Harry asked, mind having been wiped of the last handful of minutes.

"What did you do while I was gone?"

"Oh," he sounded, aware of the way his arm fell across the curve of her waist and smooth planes of her back he could feel through her top, "Nothing really; jus' took a nap and cleaned the kitchen. Nothing exciting—not like you, it sounds like."

(Y/N) hummed from her hiding place in his neck. "Nothing exciting at all?" she sang, a teasing lilt to her drunken voice.

Harry swallowed. She wasn't hinting at anything in particular, right?

"I mean, I started a new book before I took m'nap," he hedged, eyes stuck on the concert poster he had pasted to his wall. "But that's really it."

She shifted in his hold, pulling out of his arms just enough to look up at him. Her eyes were still swimming and glossy, but she didn't shy away from his gaze. There was a small tick at the corner of her lips.

"Are we not going to talk about it? Because we don't have to, I just want to know."

His muscles wound tight as he listened to her. She kept her voice decidedly quiet, as if there was anyone else around that could overhear.

Were they going to talk about it? That wasn't really a decision Harry wanted to make, but he couldn't turn away the option now that it was served up to him.

"Um," he fumbled, his mouth lagging behind his racing mind, "I—Uh—I... 'M sorry."

Canting her head, (Y/N) blinked at him. "Sorry?"

His throat bobbed, tongue suddenly too thick in his mouth. "'M sorry, I... I didn't know y'were coming home, I wouldn't have... you know. I didn't mean for you to see or... hear."

Please god, he hoped she hadn't heard a thing—that he said or thought.

(Y/N)'s features cracked into a smile when she finally processed what he'd said. It only took a moment for that smile to bloom into a peal of laughter.

"Harry, it's not that serious," she got out in-between giggles, "You didn't do anything wrong—it's not like I don't think you do that kind of stuff. I just didn't know if we were going to ignore that I walked in or if we were going to laugh about it. You're not supposed to be sorry for anything; I should have knocked, anyway."

Harry's mouth went dry. He wasn't sure what kind of reaction this was. Was this only because of the vodka in her system? Or was she really this comfortable with the events of the evening? If it were the other way around, Harry didn't think he would be able to speak let alone laugh at the situation for at least a whole week.

(Though that could be entirely attributed to the fact that he had that thorny crush on her stuck to the chambers of his heart).

The lump in his throat cracked and allowed a breathy laugh to come through after a heartbeat. Maybe she was right, it wasn't that serious. It's not like she could have known he was thinking about her. They were both adults, people who were more than able and accustomed to pleasuring their bodies—there was no reason to be weird about it if she wasn't going to be.

"Jus', should have locked m'door at least," he laughed, joining her as he sagged into the mattress.

"Yeah," she pressed, settling against him once more now that the seal was broken between them, "I always lock my door, you're too brave."

He hoped she didn't notice the way his hands pulsed when she so casually brought up her own moments in her bedroom. He wasn't strong enough to broach that subject just yet.

"Maybe," he agreed, "Sorry, anyway. Not the nicest thing to come home to, that's for sure."

"I mean," (Y/N) started, her voice breathy as she sunk into his arms, "It wasn't that bad. More embarrassing for you than anything else, I bet."

The laughter from his chest died down then. His brain caught on her words. "Not that bad?" he parroted, unsure of what or why he was even asking.

"I mean, you're cute, H. You know that," she said oh-so casually. "I feel bad I walked in and scared you, but I can't act like it was the absolute worst moment of my life or something." She spoke with amusement, a touch of laughter carrying out her words as if this was all so easy.

"Oh," Harry started, swallowing around his dry throat, "Y'think 'm cute?"

She rolled into him, tucking herself against him once more. Harry didn't doubt that she was well acquainted with the pounding of his pulse at this point. "Of course I do, you know that. You're, like, the cutest guy I know. I mean," she sighed, voice slurring even more with the dredges of sleep tugging at her words, "you didn't have to stop earlier, if you didn't want to. I could've helped."

Harry's body stopped working in that moment. Time was moving too fast around him while he was seemingly stuck in that moment.

What? Is that a normal thing to say? Is this what happens when you share a bed with someone, even if they were only a friend?

His palms grew clammy. "What do you mean?"

"You know," she yawned, "Just... I know you don't go on dates or bring anyone home or anything, so I could help you if you ever wanted. You're too cute to be by yourself, H."

What the fuck? What was even happening at the moment? Was he delusional? Or dreaming so intensely he couldn't be sure if it was real or not? But he swore, crossing his heart and all, that this was real and completely happening all while (Y/N) was tucked in his arms with her mouth hovering by his throat.

And she was offering to jerk him off sometime. Because he was too cute to do it by himself.

What the fuck?

"(Y/N)?"

Harry received no answer. Her chest pressed against his and receded in even paces, puffs of air fanning across the slope of his neck.

Staring once more at the poster on his wall, Harry didn't feel a single sleepy bone in his body. If he had thought he was restless before, there was no way he was getting any sleep tonight.

—————

Exhaustion shackled his limbs as Harry moved through the kitchen. Just as he figured, there wasn't more than an hour of sleep in his system, his mind running too fast to allow him any kind of relaxation. Not when there was the extra presence in his bed.

By the time the sun cracked through his curtains and (Y/N) had rolled to show her back to him, Harry forced himself out of bed. He doubted she was going to have an easy wakeup after the night she'd had, and he was already in shambles, making breakfast essential for the both of them to get through the morning hours.

That didn't make it any easier, though. A large part of him wanted to stay tucked amongst his sheets, cozy and warm with the best view he could imagine available just before him. Despite that urge, a smaller part of him was still drenched in the complication that came with the slurred words she offered just before dozing off.

First of all, he wasn't sure if he was supposed to be embarrassed that she noticed he'd never really dated before and definitely never brought home anyone. It was bad enough that he was well aware of his lack of dating and sex life, he wasn't comforted at the idea of (Y/N) taking note. Second, what did it even mean to be too cute to be by himself? It brought a flush to his cheeks, the implication. But, was it really a compliment to be cute? He'd never heard (Y/N) describe any of the people she was interested in as cute; they were always pretty, and glowing, and handsome, and—of course—hot as fuck.

Harry didn't want to know where he placed on her scale of attractiveness.

Then, lest he forget, there was the whole offer of her taking care of him. If he ever wanted, of course.

Even just the memory of her words was enough to have his limbs going robotic as he moved through the kitchen. He was going to burn his croissant if he wasn't careful. It was enough to even overshadow the moment she had walked in on him, it was that monumental to him.

But, Harry had a feeling that she wasn't going to remember much of the night before, let alone a throwaway comment right before falling asleep. And that was going to be better for the both of them.

Once he had twin plates of scrambled eggs with cheese, buttery croissants, and cut up fruit, he was daring to step back up the stairs to his bedroom. He felt like an intruder, knowing (Y/N) was still asleep, wrapped up in his bedding. Even if it was to wake her for breakfast, he felt reluctant to pull her from much needed rest.

Though, as soon as he pushed open the door, Harry realized he wasn't going to have to worry about waking her up. Not when she was already looking at him, blinking the sleep out of her eyes with the creases of his pillow etched in her cheek.

"Harry," she sighed, bringing a hand up to rub at her eye, "You're awake."

"You're awake," he parroted, "I didn't think I'd see y'until this afternoon."

She nodded absently, missing the amusement in his voice. "Me neither. Where did you go? I thought you'd left me here."

It was the pout on her face and the downward lilting of her voice that had him taking a step towards his bed. "'M sorry," he murmured, feeling guilt pinch at his heart, "I was jus' downstairs making dinner. I was about to come get you and see if y'were hungry."

"Breakfast?" she chirped, waking up that much more at the offer of food.

"Eggs and those croissants," he confirmed, words coming out in a song as he tempted her with the offer.

"That sounds so good, thank you," she muttered, voice genuinely warm as her gaze wrapped around him from across the room, "Will you come lay with me for a few more minutes, though? I don't want to get up yet."

"I can bring your plate up here, if y'want," Harry offered, though they both saw him taking those quiet steps towards her.

(Y/N) simply shook her head. "Just you."

Those two syllables launched him back to the night prior, where she couldn't continue her night without telling him just how much she had wanted only him through her night of bar hopping. Just him—the one on her mind, supposedly. He was too cute to be by himself.

Harry didn't respond before he was slipping into bed beside her, taking up the dented spot where his body had laid stiffly the night before. She took her spot against his form wordlessly, as if it were a part of the norm to snuggle up to him in the morning.

"Thank you for letting me sleep in here last night," (Y/N) murmured, her chest expanding against his as she peered up at him through her lashes, "I know I was kind of a mess."

"No, no," he shook his head, "Y'were jus' fine. 'M happy y'came home instead of staying somewhere y'didn't want to."

A small peal of laughter fanned across his skin. "I think everyone was getting annoyed anyway," she started, "I kept telling them that I shouldn't have left you home alone, so I think they were ready for me to just go back."

Harry could feel his skin going warm. With his eyes closed, he attempted to keep his breathing from hitching. She was going to kill him one of these days.

"Y'dont' have to worry about me when y'go out, (Y/N)," he insisted, voice as quiet as the grazing of his hands across her back. "'M fine, you go have fun."

If not for the fact he was hyper aware of her body and just how close she was, he doubted he would have noticed the small shift she made across the sheets to land further in his arms.

"You're just," she sighed, pausing between her words, "I don't want you to feel left behind or lonely. You're a good friend and you deserve to have fun and feel good."

Her proposition that he had pushed to the back of his mind was suddenly roped right to the front. Of course, there was the damper of being such a good friend to her that she felt this way, but there was the rest of the statement to contend with first.

"I—um—'M fine, (Y/N). Really. 'M actually pretty good company, if y'ask me." He had hoped she would join him when he let out a breathy laugh, but he made the only sound in the room.

The pause lasted just long enough Harry wondered if (Y/N) had fallen asleep again before he heard her voice:

"Like last night?" His heart all but stopped in his chest. For the second time in the last twenty-four hours, time seemed to stand still while everything in his body went into overdrive.

She wasn't supposed to remember that. She was supposed to be too plastered to remember anything, let alone the one moment with her he's ever regretted. What was he supposed to say to her? Was she teasing him, was he disgusted now that she was sober enough to have an opinion, was this one big joke that he was going to hav—

"(Y/N), I—" He started unraveling himself from her before she popped up with wide eyes.

"No, no, I'm sorry," she rushed out, "That wasn't—I'm not trying to—I'm not making fun of you or, I don't know. I just mean..." She looked at him with uncertain crinkles by her eyes, her lips pursed as if she wanted to speak but had to hold back.

"'M fine," he started again, sitting up amongst the rumpled bedding, "'M sorry if I ma—"

"Do you remember what I said last night?"

As soon as the question tumbled from her lips, Harry swore the room became five degrees hotter.

"Do you remember?" he attempted to joke, though neither of them cracked a smile.

She gave a nod. "About... you know. I could... help, if you wanted. So you're not by yourself."

His mouth ran dry. There was much more power to the offer in the light of the morning with (Y/N)'s clear eyes directed to him. There was no slur of alcohol to her voice or liquid to her bones.

She was entirely serious. So serious, she was asking him again.

"You don't have to do that, (Y/N)," he murmured, dropping his gaze from hers. This was too much, to have to decline her—decline her pity offer after walking in on him with his hand down his pants the night before. "Really, 'm alright. I have no problem being... by myself."

(Y/N) looked away with her lips rolled between her teeth. "I know I don't have to, but I want to. You deserve someone to look after you the way you look after me."

"I don't think I look after you quite like that, though," he tired again, his light-hearted tone attempting to ease the tension. (Y/N) didn't grab the lifeline.

"At least let me set you up with someone then?" (Y/N) offered this time, "I want you to meet someone you care about, then. At the very least, then we could double date."

"I really... I don't want anyone. I'm okay." Anyone, but her was the right thing to say, but that wasn't something he was willing to admit at the moment.

"There's this girl I know, though," she chattered off, suddenly coming to life, "You would really get along with her, H. She's super pretty, she's tall, and I don't think she likes Italian food, but we could work on—"

"'M really okay, ser—"

"No, H, she always loves reading—it's actually kind of funny how much she talks about all these books and—"

Harry felt his stomach beginning to twist and turn. She could be the nicest woman in the world, this friend of hers. But there were many reasons why he was never going to take (Y/N) up on this offer.

Starting with the fact that the one girl he had his eye on was right in front of him, and ending with the glaring truth of his virginity. He doubted (Y/N) or any of her friends like her were going to be very invested in that.

"And, not to get gross, but she's super hot. Like her body, H, you have to see her—"

"I'm a virgin."

A flush ran up his skin, blooming his veins and reddening his skin. Why did he say that? Why did he share that? Is he suddenly an idiot? Was he now lacking a verbal filter and had to say everything that came to mind?

At the very least, (Y/N) finally stopped. The many wonderful and hot attributes of her friend had stopped. There was only a blanket of silence floating between them now.

His heartbeat sounded in his ears before (Y/N) had any kind of reaction

"Oh," was all that fell from her lips.

Peeking through his lashes, he was waiting for her to recoil. To look at him a little funny—the way the few that had learned that information looked at him. That moment of questioning how someone could have avoided sex (as if that was what he was up to), then wondering if there was something wrong with him, if there was something hiding under his skin that he was unwilling to share. Most people tried to recover as quickly as they could, brightening and telling him that it was alright. Plenty of people were waiting until marriage, they couldn't blame him of course!

It was an uncomfortable conversation, one Harry let the other party lead. He never really felt like getting into the why's and the moments that he decided to turn down a potential warm bed. Or why it wasn't within his capabilities to have sex outside of a relationship with trust in the mix, or the fact that he'd never been in a relationship that met those qualifications.

But, (Y/N) didn't do that. She looked at him with appraising eyes, not in search of something wrong. She looked at him like there was so much to be seen, to the point she couldn't believe it just because he was... him.

"I didn't know that," she muttered, canting her head, "I always just kind of figured that you weren't." Her eyes widened then. "Wait, I've said so many things, why did you never correct me?"

Harry shrugged, the sheets rustling around him. "I know 's not... normal, so I jus' don't really talk about it. 'S easier if I jus' let y'assume."

Her expression fell a little then. "I hope I never made you feel like you couldn't tell me," her eyes were soft as she gazed at him, "You know it didn't change anything to me, right?"

A small smile cracked his lips. "Thanks."

She relaxed a touch then, her muscles untensing from the tension he injected with his admission. "Is it weird to ask you why? Like, why you've waited and everything?"

"I wouldn't really say I've waited," he clarified, "I jus'... I've met people I wanted to be with and all of that, and I've had opportunities but I didn't take them." He paused, rolling his lips between his teeth; this was one of the harder bits to admit. It sounded silly even to his own ears, even if it was something he believed in. "I've never had anyone I trusted enough to share that... experience with. So I've just never."

(Y/N) listened intently, eyes clear with a cant to her head. God, even with the harsh beating of his heart as he exhumed his secrets, she really was the absolute prettiest.

"I get it," she muttered, "It's easier to wait than to spend the rest of your life regretting it."

"Exactly," he exaggeratedly murmured, "'S like y'live in m'head, (Y/N)."

His attempt at joking was enough to pull a small laugh from her chest. (Y/N) relaxed further into his bed, carving a dent into his mattress just at his side. Finally, that comfortable silence he lived in with her returned.

He couldn't believe he'd been so flighty about this whole thing. This wasn't one of the things he needed to be nervous about, not compared to what she had walked into last night. And even that incident was less earth shattering than he made it out to be.

(Y/N)'s tone was much less trepidatious when she spoke again, a decided difference than even a moment before. "Have you done anything else, though? Or have you waited for the whole thing?"

"Haven't done anything," he responded, with a heaving sigh, "'M waiting on the whole experience I guess."

"With someone you trust."

A small smile bloomed over his features. "With someone I trust."

A beat of silence passed between them. (Y/N) fiddled with the comforter tangled at her waist. "Can I ask you one more thing?"

Harry hummed an acknowledgement. He should have agreed to get back into bed with her, he was beginning to consider leaving breakfast for this afternoon in favor of a quick nap.

"Do you trust me?"

It was the way she said it less than the actual words she said that had a pang echoing through Harry's chest. Of course, he trusted her; she was his best friend. Though, Harry doubted that was what she was trying to get at.

He gave a small confirmation in the form of a quiet yes.

(Y/N) twisted in the sheets, looking up at him with clear eyes. Her lips glistened, the tip of her tongue having grazed over the pillows. "I know you said you're waiting and everything, but if you wanted to... change that, and you trust me...we could do whatever you wanted."

As startling as the proposition was last night, this one inspired a twist in his stomach. This wasn't a drunken idea gone rogue. She was looking at him with a steady gaze and lips worried between her teeth. She was serious. She wanted to "do whatever" he wanted. With him.

Despite there being no visible traces of pity on (Y/N)'s face, he truly could barely fathom the idea of her offering herself up to him so willingly. Especially after learning that there would be little he could offer in return—his skills were more than lacking.

"(Y/N), you don't want to do that," he started, "'M alright, I d—"

"I do," she cut him off, the words tumbling from her mouth without thought, "I do want to, I mean. You know I care about you right, Harry?"

His mouth ran dry. "I know."

A small smile touched her mouth. "You don't have to, obviously. I just wanted you to know that if you ever don't want to wait or kind of just want to get the pressure out of the way, I'm here."

Was Harry going to explode? Was he going to flick through the room like a balloon deflating of helium? Or was his stomach going to swallow him whole and leave behind only the sticky tar of his feelings?

And she was being so casual about it. She offered it as if there was no gravity to her words.

"You don't have to say anything, though. Just remember that," she said with a soft smile, sitting up in bed with eyes on the door, "You said break—"

"I want to."

As soon as the declaration choked out of his throat, Harry wanted to cringe. He wanted to retract every breath, every thought, every twist of his tongue against his teeth that brought him here. Sure, she was offering, but there was such a thing as being over eager.

(Y/N) paused, glancing back to him. A light graced the hue of her irises.

"Really?"

He didn't trust himself to say another word. Harry only nodded.

"You don't want to wait, anymore?" she prodded, forgetting the cracked door and the food downstairs.

Now wasn't the time to give her the full list of why this exact moment was a dream come true (just short of having her as his girlfriend and holding her hand as they went to the movies), but she had offered a few good points.

"I mean," he started, swallowing as his eyes dropped to the tip of her nose in avoidance of her eyes, "I do trust you. If there's anyone I know I wouldn't regret sharing this with, 's you."

"I suppose we are best friends," (Y/N) added, layering her voice with a smile, "But, you're sure?"

"I am," he said without a moment of hesitation, "Maybe jus' not... everything? I think that might be a bit much for me."

"Of course, of course," she rushed out, waving her hands as if to wipe the pressure out of the air, "We'll only do what you want."

Maybe Harry was a bit too much of an open book, unable to truly hide whatever it was that was running through his head, but he couldn't help the way his eyes immediately dropped to her hands.

Harry knew just how soft her hands were. He'd seen the hand creams she used every night, and felt the plush skin every time they grazed hands or she made the dangerous decision of just laying a hand on his arm every time he made her laugh just a little too much. There was even once, way back when they'd first started becoming friends, that she had him to compare hand sizes. Even now, he vividly remembered just how soft her palm was against his, the stretch of her fingers that didn't reach up to the tips of his own. It was a memory he held onto and one he couldn't get out of his head at that moment.

He'd thought more than once what it would be like to have her hand on him instead of his own between the sheets. What the visual of her pretty manicured nails, digits of her fingers, the softness of her palm would look like fisted around his length. He didn't have to know to be certain he wouldn't last very long if he ever had the chance to find out.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw the wide smile mold (Y/N)'s features.

"Really?" she coyly asked, stretching out her fingers from the cover of her sleeves.

"Hm?" he hummed, forcing his eyes back to her own.

A peal of laughter fell from her lips as she crawled back to her spot at his side. "My hands. That's all you want?"

His skin felt flush as he nodded, his bottom lip wedged between his teeth. "Only if you want."

She hovered above him, the tips of her hair hanging around them like a curtain. She looked like a dream there, only slats of light working across her face. Shadows sliced over her cheekbones and the length of her lashes with the pretty color of her eyes gleaming in the sun and the curve of her lips highlighted.

He must be dreaming, but he was never this anxious in his dreams. Especially not one so lovely.

"No one's ever done that for you before?" she asked, taking up a spot on the mattress at his side with her eyes grazing over his features.

"Never," he confirmed, feeling his stomach stir at the feel of the heat of her body at his side.

God was this really about to happen?

"You're okay with me being the first?" Her voice suddenly had dropped a few octaves, a murmur in the air between them.

He didn't have to think before he nodded. "I want you to be the first."

Her eyes were bright, sparkling in the slat of light shining through her hair. "Right now?"

"Right now."

She looked entirely too gorgeous to be normal when she smiled at him. "Just show me what you like, then. I'm all yours."

His stiffening cock jumped at her words. She needed to stop talking like that if she didn't want him to embarrass himself.

With that, (Y/N) wiggled her hand under his own on his abdomen, amusement in her eyes. Harry felt his breathing hitch at the simple touch. Just as soft as he thought.

In an effort to preserve some semblance of his sanity, he closed his eyes before wrapping the length of his fingers around her hand. It was a moment, a full heartbeat pounding through his ears, before he pulsed his hand around hers in an affectionate squeeze and traced her hand down his middle.

He could feel the tense of his muscles under his shirt, his legs spreading just that much wider. The ghost of her touch was a stark reminder that he never finished the job last night.

Amongst his rumpled bed sheets, Harry couldn't be sure that this was even real life. Not that he spent any specific amount of time picturing what this first time would be like, but he could admit that he never really thought it would be like this. Not in sweatpants that had a stain from the eggs he had scrambled only twenty minutes prior. Not with his hand being the guiding force down to the waist of his bottoms. Not with (Y/N).

His cock stirred when their joined hands reached the elastic band of his sweatpants. Despite not even feeling her bare skin on his, goosebumps were raised. Was he going to embarrass himself by finishing within seconds? Harry had a feeling that was going to be the scenario at hand.

(Y/N) wiggled her hand out from under his, hooking her fingers in the waist under her own volition. "You're still alright? With all of this?"

"Yeah," Harry breathed out, his voice a hair above a whisper in hopes of disguising the tremor.

"Okay," she said, looking up at him for a brief moment with a reassuring smile, "If you don't want to anymore, though, just let me know. We'll have breakfast and pretend nothing happened."

His heartbeat sped up at her declaration. He knew he could trust her—with his body, with his delicate feelings, with his life, even.

Harry didn't move his eyes from her even when she directed her attention to her hand. He watched her as she pushed his sweatpants down, the band falling just far enough down to hit the end of his boxer-briefs. His mouth fell open as he attempted to gain any insight into what she might be thinking, this being the first time he'd ever been this exposed to anyone before. Even with the layer of his underwear on, he'd never been in front of anyone in an undergarment like this.

(Y/N) didn't give much away, only the cautious pace of her movements indicated the gravity of this moment. She skated her palm over the jut of his hip, easing him into the feel of her touch; he doubted she missed the way his cock jumped. His body reacted readily to each of her touches: goosebumps on his skin, bunched muscles in his abdomen, lungs squeezing in his chest, and the bruising hold of his teeth over his bottom lip.

His hip was only the first step before she continued her path. She grazed the top of his thigh, nails denting into his skin in gentle pressures. His breath caught when she touched the lump of his cock, enough so that his chest shuddered. She lingered there, going so far as to give a slight squeeze, only causing him to harden more in her grip.

"I'm going to put my hand underneath, okay?" (Y/N) shared, voice quiet before he felt the first touch of her fingertips.

"Okay," he answered involuntarily, tongue thick in his mouth. He was so gone for her in the moment, it was hard to think straight.

Harry lifted his hips to help her pull down his briefs, leaving them bunched at the mid of his thighs. His cock bobbed free, flushed and ruddy already. He doubted any other person in the world would have gained a reaction like this one.

This time, he caught (Y/N)'s first real reaction. Her eyes widened, grazing over the length of him as she pulled her bottom lip between his teeth. She laid her hand on his abdomen for a beat, absently curling her fingers in the hem of his shirt she'd only pushed up and out of the way.

Suddenly, she seemingly shook herself out of her head, looking up at Harry with a blink of her eyes.

"Is it alright if I move a little?" she murmured, "I want to get more comfortable, if that's okay."

She asked as if he had the power to deny her of anything, especially something so inconsequential.

As soon as Harry nodded, she shifted at his side. Kicking the comforter off of her legs, she rolled to lay on her side next to him. He instinctively wrapped an arm underneath her, his palm landing just between her shoulder blades. The cuddling felt a little more inconsequential now that she had a hand traveling down his form, even if the feel of her chest pressed against him was enough to have his blood pumping faster.

Now that she was settled, (Y/N) resumed her ministrations with both of their eyes trained on the movement of her hand. Harry swore it was just the fact that she was looking at him at all that had the blurt of precum seeping from his head, a pearl glistening in the morning light.

"Just—um—if I do something you like, tell me and I'll try to keep doing it," she spoke distractedly, a slight rasp to her voice he hadn't anticipated in his fantasies.

His mumble of okay was lost as soon as he saw her bring her hand to her mouth. He watched on as she dragged her tongue across her palm, slicking the skin before wrapping her fist around his base.

"Oh, fuck," he let out, barely audible over the heavy sigh that carried out the words. He fought to keep his eyes open, spying the way (Y/N)'s features curled into a smile with her bottom lip trapped between her teeth.

She did a precursory drag of her hand over his length, the pacing slow and aching. Harry could feel every crease and pillow of her palm. God, she was just as soft as he imagined.

His chest shuddered as he watched her pretty nails sparkling in the light. The pink polish seemingly mimicked the flush of his head, glimmering and sparkling like the slick of her spit over his shaft. If that wasn't bad enough, seeing the fact that her fingers didn't even connect around the girth of him was going to kill him. Were her hands that small or was he bigger than he thought?

As if hearing his thoughts, a mutter came from (Y/N), "You're so big, H. I had no idea."

He wanted to say something (was it corny to say "thank you" to something like that?), instead only a rumbling groan came from his chest. The pillows under his head were the perfect cushions when he couldn't handle keeping it up anymore. He was already flushed and warm, muscles too tight for comfort, and stomach tightening into a burn. And she'd barely even started.

Hearing his reaction was enough to spur her on, dragging her fist over and over his length. Periodically, she swiped her thumb over his crown, spreading the pearls of precum he let out. The slick passes of her hand rang out through his bedroom, competing with the puffs of his heavy breathing as the most erotic sound filtering through his bedroom.

"Ti-Tighter," he choked out, his arm around her back holding her flush to his side.

(Y/N) didn't respond, but he immediately felt the vice of her hand tighten that much more around his length. Another string of curses fell from his lips, his throat thick.

"Is this good?" she asked, turning until she was looking up at him with wide eyes. Her pupils were dilated, darkening the hue of her irises.

Harry wasn't able to think as he looked at her. She was his dream, the ultimate fantasy. Looking up at him with glossy eyes, her manicured hand squeezing around his cock. And for the first time, he noticed she was rubbing her thighs together as she took care of him. His free hand clutched the mess of his sheets; he wouldn't be surprised if he found holes in the fabric later.

"So good," Harry breathed, the words broken on his tongue, "So, so good, (Y/N)."

The smile she gave him was devastating.

Was she crazy? Was she trying to send him over the edge this quickly? He was starting to think so.

"I was going to ask if you wanted it tighter, but I think we've found it," she teased, entirely too light-hearted for one of the most monumental moments of his life.

"Y-Yeah," he answered, feeling delirious, "(Y/N), I-I'm close. 'M sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" she asked, a pinch appearing between her brows, "This is about you, you don't have to be sorry. Cum whenever you want—as long as you feel good, I don't care."

Her pace was unrelenting, the slap of her hand hitting his base mimicking the beat of his heart.

"Fuck, (Y/N)," he muttered, voice strained, "Let me—I don't want to make a m-mess on you, I can grab—"

She shushed him, shaking her head against his chest. "I can handle a little mess, H, it's okay. Stop thinking about me, this is about you."

Stop thinking about me, as if that were ever an option for him.

Still the sentiment stuck the same, especially her willingness to allow him to leave any kind of mark on her, including one so primitive.

He spared a glance down at her. Her features were mostly hidden give the angle and the wisps of her hair in the way, but he could still see the flutter of her lashes as she watched herself getting him off, he could see the pinch of her nose and the gape of her lips. He could see her thighs squeezed tightly together, the shirts covering her modesty turning tight and especially short around her hips.

God, this was (Y/N) on him. That was her pretty, soft hand on his length. That was her chest pressed to his ribs, only layers away from feeling the heavy beating of his heart. That was her wrapped up in the sheets holding his scent and so eagerly and happily fisting his cock.

"Shit," he moaned, his voice rumbling and deep as he threw his head back, "(Y/N), 'm cumming, love."

There was a void in the pit of his stomach that tightened and popped in that moment, unraveling him from the inside out. His balls tightened at his base just before the first rope off is cum spurted from his tip. The mess he'd worried about came to life then, white ribbons projecting as far up to the chest of his top, others dripping down his length and further wetting (Y/N)'s hand.

Guileless moans echoed from his chest, filling the room as he came for the first time at the hand of another. His body urged him to close his eyes, the visuals before him being too much for his fragile psyche. But Harry fought the instinct. There was no way he was missing even a single frame of this; there was likely never going to be another time he had the privilege of laying with (Y/N) like this, he wasn't going to let anything get in the way. Including his eyelids.

She didn't slow down as she helped him through the throes, her own breathing turning rough and off-kilter. Her toes curled in her socks, thighs pressed tightly together.

Harry could have been up in the stratosphere for hours with the way he slumped against the bed exhausted by the time the final drop of his release slithered down his cock. (Y/N) slowed, though she kept going until the final aftershock left his spine and Harry had to pull her hand away before he burst into flames.

His breathing came in heavy puffs, lips parted and swollen. He didn't need to see himself to know that his cheeks were cherry red with a nose to match, his curls pasted to his temples with sweat, and his eyes just a bit wild.

Despite pushing her hand out of the way, (Y/N) didn't think before she laced their fingers together. Her touch was a bit sticky now, but there was no way Harry was going to complain. He kept his arm aprons her back tight, fingers denting the soft plane between her shoulder blades.

He could have laid there for days, feeling the warmth of (Y/N)'s body and her soft hand in his. If not for the fact his cum had begun to dry and go cold. At the very least he needed to clean (Y/N) up—he doubted it was good bedroom etiquette to leave her to clean up after his mess.

Forcing his eyes open, Harry blindly reached for the tissue box he kept on his bedside table (truthfully, it was for the hay fever he always seemed to have, but the sheets definitely had their convenient uses. Uses he would never admit to, of course). Reluctantly, he peeled (Y/N)'s hand out of his, wiping the streak of his cum marring her palm.

A breathy giggle fell from her lips.

"What?" he asked, his voice bubbled and cracked.

"Nothing," she smiled, "You're just sweet."

For some odd reason, he flushed harder than he should at something so mundane.

"Thank you," he peeped, cleaning the stray strings that reached up to her wrist.

As soon as (Y/N) was free from the traces of him, he took care of his own thighs and the streaks that hit his shirt. The pile of tissues he had to take to the trash made a little mountain on his bedside table by the time he had himself tucked away and sweatpants laying against his hips once more.

"Um," he started, unsure of what to say after an experience like that. What even qualified as pillow talk, and how did one start it with someone that was just his roommate? "I'll be right back," he settled on, reaching for the mess of tissues, "'M going to cl—"

"Harry."

He didn't think before he looked at her. Her eyes were still full of dilated pupils with swollen lips, but the way she looked at him held more tenderness than he thought capable in a moment like this.

"Stay with me for a second," she requested, her voice a soft coo.

There wasn't a second thought to be had as he listened to her command. If he thought he was gone for her before, that was nothing compared to the endorphins coursing through him every time she looked at him in that moment.

(Y/N) didn't wait before she was rolling to wrap him in a hug. It was a bit awkward, the way she had to stretch up to loop her arms around his neck and the way their legs tangled in the sheets. But it was more than worth it.

Harry had always pictured himself to be the kind of guy that would want a cuddle after sex, but he never could have imagined just how vital this kind of contact would be after something so intense. Despite this being levels below the real act, Harry still clung to her.

Every time his chest inflated with a whiff of her hair and sullied perfume, she deflated with a breath that fanned across his neck. Kicking free of the sheets, (Y/N) opted instead to curl her legs between his in a welcome tangle. Her warmth radiated through the material of her shirt, a soothing heat that brought him back down to earth.

He didn't think before the words were being whispered into her hair: "Thank you."

The smile on her face was audible when she spoke, "You're welcome, Harry."

He couldn't help but squeeze her that much harder. "I'm sorry I can't offer anything in return," he admitted, a frown etching its way onto her lips, "I-I could try, I jus' don't think I'll be very good or—"

She shushed him with a press of her lips to his cheek. It was an act that took his already fragile breathing out of pace once more. The tip of her nose grazed his skin, the plush of her lips hitting right where he knew his dimple to be when he smiled.

"Stop talking," she laughed when she finally—regretfully—pulled away. "This was all about you, Harry. I'm just happy that you felt good, and trusted me enough to let me do this with you. That's all I need."

He could only hug her harder.

Harry would have laid there for hours, happily so, even when he could feel the strength returning to his muscles and the beat of his heart leveling out, but (Y/N) was the first to pull away. She pressed another soft kiss to his cheek before she untangled herself from him.

Her eyes practically glimmered as she looked down at him. "You said there was breakfast downstairs, right?"

That was enough to get a full laugh echoing from his chest, his lungs squeezing in the best way possible.

He was never, ever going to be free of this crush on her. Not now.

—————

pomegranates, an ancient roman wedding gift; the fruit hades offered to persephone to keep her in the underworld. with him.

ahhhhhhh thanl u sm for reading! so sorry for any mistakes, and if you have any fun ideas or anything please send them in!

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lisenberry · 10 months ago

Text

Thoughts on the first time you give your man a back rub after a long day. (Some of them are nicer about it than others.)

nsfw/mdni/18+/daddy stuff

Simon - He's never been touched like that before. Who would voluntarily reach out to offer him comfort? He doesn't exactly scream "pet me, I don't bite." It makes him ticklish, but he's not the type to giggle and shy away. No, he doesn't want you to stop, but he doesn't know what to do either. So, he just tenses up, grits his teeth, eye twitching under his mask, skin crawling as you run your fingertips over the skin of his back, his shoulders, down to his waist.

After a minute or two, you realize he's more uncomfortable than when you started, so you pull back. "I'm sorry. I was only trying to help."

"You know how you can help me, lovie?" He unbuckles his pants and pulls out the only part of him left that feels anything uncomplicated.

Kyle - He's upset, at the unfairness of it all. Ranting and raving about the mission and the particulars. It should've been easy, people could've been killed. But as your hands move in wide circles along his neck and his spine, he quiets down. He forgets what he was so angry about. His breaths slow and his eyes close. His head rolls back until you think maybe he fell asleep.

So, you stop, just for a minute. Until he moans your name and kisses your wrist. "Enough about me, baby. How was your day? Want to go out for dinner?"

Johnny - The second you lay your hands on him, he starts to boss you around. "A little to the left." "Ah, that's it, lower." "Don't be shy, use your nails." "Harder."

Before you know it, you're playing 'Whack-a-mole' with the itch running around his back muscles and across his chest. He's stomping his foot like a dog and leaning into your touch. You're behind his ears and under his arms, down the waist of his boxers.

He's moaning like you're giving him the best fuck of his life, and when your roommate happens to poke their head out from the kitchen to see what the commotion is all about, it's just the big Scot with his shirt pulled up around his neck and your legs spread across his lap for better access to his hairy abs.

John - Like Simon, physical touch is a mixed bag for him. Most people who sneak up behind him want him dead, so he's more prepared for a knife than a kind pair of hands.

But he trusts you, he reminds himself. And he has a lot of hair, so it does get itchy. Especially in the heat after a long day. He pays for your maintenance--hair, nails, clothes--so it's only fair that he gets to enjoy everything his money gets him.

"Do you like this, daddy?" You knead his knotted muscles with your thumbs and mindlessly run your meticulously filed nails through the coarse salt and pepper curls along his back and chest.

Maybe the nicer you are to him, the nicer he'll be later.

#call of duty #john price #captain price #captain john price #price x reader #simon ghost riley #141 x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #johnny mactavish #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick x reader #simon ghost riley x reader

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raekensluver · 3 months ago

Text

one more round

masterlist | main masterlist

description: you would've never thought that going out for a few drinks with your best mates would have led to the three of you in a bed together.

pairing: george clarke x fem!reader x arthur frederick

contains: 18+, Minors DNI, smut, intoxication, porn with no plot, mean dom!george, switch!arthur, switch!reader (?), threesome, mmf, unprotected sex, p in v, p in v from behind, oral sex (m recieving), female ejaculation (squirting), handjobs, fingering, pet names (poppet, pet, love).

song rec: meddle about by chase atlantic- "baby, show me what you're doing, come and turn around"

w.c: 4.8k

a.n: sorry- this feels like a mess but i just needed to finish it and post.

you, arthur, and george stumbled into george's apartment, the door swinging wide to reveal a cozy, dimly lit space. the scent of men's cologne filled the air, mingling with the faint aroma of takeout from earlier in the evening. the living room was a mess, with discarded shoes and jackets scattered across the floor, evidence of his roommates' recent departure.

"chris and arthur are out, thank fuck," george murmured, his breath hot against your neck as he closed the door. the sudden quiet of the apartment was a stark contrast to the noisy streets you'd just left behind. you nodded, your heart racing as you took in the sight of him, his eyes dark with desire. the sexual tension between the three of you was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife.

without warning, arthur pounced on you, his eyes dark and glossy from the alcohol. his body pressed against yours, his hands fumbling with the hem of your shirt. you felt a thrill of excitement mixed with a hint of panic. his kiss was sloppy, his tongue probing your mouth with an urgency that was both thrilling and overwhelming. your skin prickled with the sensation of his stubble scraping against your cheek, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. you tasted the faint hint of vodka on his breath, and the scent of his cologne, something musky and expensive, filled your nose.

you stumbled backward under his weight, colliding with the wall. george watched, his eyes alight with something unreadable. his cheeks were flushed, and his chest heaved with each shallow breath. you felt his gaze on you, hot and intense, as if he were a predator watching its prey. his hands balled into fists at his sides, and you wondered if he was fighting the urge to join in or to step away. the room felt smaller, the air thicker, as the three of you remained locked in this silent tableau of desire and confusion.

finally, arthur pulled away, his eyes searching yours for approval. you nodded, breathless. the heat of his body left a cold spot where he had been, and you felt a sudden need to bridge that gap again. george took a step forward, his movements deliberate, and placed a hand on arthur's shoulder. "easy, mate," he murmured, his eyes flicking to you with a silent question.

you felt your cheeks flush and took a shaky breath. "it's okay," you managed to say, your voice a whisper in the quiet room. george's hand moved to your face, cupping your cheek gently. his thumb brushed over your bottom lip, sending a shiver down your spine. "do you want this to happen?" he asked, his voice low and serious.

you silently nodded, unable to find the words to express the tumult of emotions swirling inside you. the nod was all the encouragement george needed. he stepped closer, and you could feel the warmth radiating from his body. his hand traveled down to the base of your neck, his grip firm but not painful. “use your words poppet. ‘can never understand ya’ when you mumble like that.” he murmured.

“yes,” you finally managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. “i want this. i want both of you.”

a smile, both tender and predatory, curved the corners of george’s mouth. he leaned in, his breath warm against your cheek, and whispered, “good.” with that, he claimed your mouth in a kiss that was everything arthur’s wasn’t—slow, deliberate, and intoxicating. his other hand found the small of your back, pulling you closer until there was no space between the two of you. you felt arthur’s presence behind you, his chest pressing into your back, his hands sliding over your hips.

his touch was different from george’s, more tentative, as if he were afraid you’d push him away. but as george’s kiss grew deeper, your body melted into his, inviting arthur’s touch to become more daring. his hands roamed up your torso, his fingers teasing the waistband of your pants. you moaned into george’s mouth, the sound muffled by his tongue.

the three of you swayed together, a tangled mess of limbs and desire. the room spun slightly, not from the alcohol but from the intensity of the moment. you’d never been in a situation like this before—sandwiched between the two men you’d had known for what felt like forever. it was overwhelming, but you didn’t want it to end.

you tugged at the strings of george’s hoodie, desperate to feel his bare skin against yours. he broke the kiss, looking down at you with a smoldering gaze. without a word, he pulled the garment over his head, revealing a chest that was more defined than you’d ever imagined. your eyes roved over the planes of muscle, the smattering of dark hair that trailed down to his waistband. the sight of him half-bare was almost too much to handle.

meanwhile, arthur had been busy. his sweatshirt was off now, too, and you couldn’t help but compare the two of them. george’s body was broad and powerful, a testament to his previous years playing rugby. arthur’s was leaner, muscles honed from countless hours at the gym. the stark contrast was oddly erotic, and you felt your pulse quicken as you took in the sight of them both.

george reached for the bottom of your sweater, his eyes never leaving yours. with surprising gentleness, he lifted it over your head, revealing the white tank top you’d chosen to wear tonight. there was no bra underneath—you hadn’t expected the evening to go this way. the cool air of the apartment kissed your bare skin, causing your nipples to peak under the thin fabric. arthur’s gaze dropped to your chest, his eyes wide with surprise and hunger.

you felt a rush of vulnerability, but instead of backing away, you leaned into george’s touch, letting his hand glide down to the hem of your tank top. his fingers hovered there for a moment before dipping beneath the fabric, tracing the line of your ribcage. the touch was light, almost reverential, as if he couldn’t believe he had the right to explore your body like this. your breath hitched, and you arched into his hand, silently begging for more.

arthur’s hands slid down to your waist, deftly unbuttoning your jeans. the zipper whispered open, and you could feel the material loosen around your hips. his breath was warm against your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear. "you're so fucking pretty," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. you shivered, his words sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

his hands grew bolder, cupping your ass as he pushed the jeans down your legs. you stepped out of them, kicking your sneakers off at the same time. your toes curled against the cool wooden floor as you felt the fabric slide away, leaving you in just your tank top and underwear. arthur’s eyes took in the sight of you, a soft groan escaping his lips. he leaned in, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck, and you felt his erection against your back. the pressure grew as his hands roamed further, tracing the curve of your hips and sliding down to the edge of your panties.

george’s hand stilled, and he stepped back, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. his eyes smoldered with need, and you knew you’d never felt more desired in your life. with a gentle nudge, he led the two of you to his bedroom, the anticipation building with every step. the room was even darker than the living room, only illuminated by the faint glow of the streetlights outside. the bed, unmade from earlier in the day, looked like a sea of rumpled sheets and blankets.

“go on the bed with him,” george said, his voice thick with desire. his hand slid from your neck to your wrist, guiding you towards the bed. your legs felt like jelly as you stumbled forward, arthur’s hand still on your waist, keeping you upright. you felt the mattress give under your weight, the cool fabric of the comforter sending a shiver down your spine.

george followed, his eyes never leaving yours. he climbed onto the bed, his body a shadow in the dim light. he moved closer, his hand brushing against arthur’s as they both reached for you. it was like you were in the center of their universe, the object of their desire. your heart raced, the thump of it echoing in your ears.

arthur’s mouth found yours again, eager and demanding. this time, george’s lips were there too, pressing against your cheek, your jaw, your neck. you gasped at the sensation, your eyes fluttering closed. your hands found their way to arthur’s shoulders, gripping him tightly as his tongue slid against yours. and then, george’s mouth was there, too, kissing you with a fierceness that stole your breath away.

you felt the bed shift as they repositioned themselves, george now on one side of you, arthur on the other. your tank top was lifted, cool air kissing your skin as it was pulled over your head. your breasts were exposed, and you felt their gazes on them, hungry and appreciative. arthur’s hand cupped one, his thumb flicking over the peak, while george’s mouth trailed a line of fire down your neck to your collarbone. the combination of their touches was dizzying, your body responding instinctively.

their kisses grew more insistent, and you found yourself eagerly returning them, your hands roaming over their bare chests. arthur’s skin was smooth and warm, the muscles beneath your fingertips firm and responsive. george’s chest was a landscape of stretch marks and dips, each one making you want him more. their mouths met yours in turn, one kiss deep and searching, the other quick and teasing, until the three of you were tangled in a web of desire.

you pulled back for a breath, the room spinning. your eyes fell on arthur and george, still lost in the passionate kiss. it was a sight that sent a jolt of electricity through you—your two best guy friends, kissing like it was the most natural thing in the world. the soft sounds of their lips meeting filled the air, punctuated by their heavy breathing.

you felt a pang of jealousy, a whine escaping your lips. "you two are hogging all the fun," you complained, a playful pout forming. george pulled away from arthur, his eyes flashing with amusement. "what's wrong, pet?" he said, his voice low and teasing. "not getting enough attention?"

before you could respond, his mouth was on yours again, his hand sliding down to cup your bare breast. your nipple tightened under his touch, and you moaned, arching into his hand. arthur took the opportunity to kiss along your jaw, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin there. your eyes rolled back in your head as the two of them worked together, each touch and kiss driving you closer to the edge.

you felt george’s hand move downward, slipping under the waistband of your underwear. his fingers found your wetness, and he groaned into your mouth. “fuck, you’re so wet for us,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe. your cheeks burned with embarrassment and desire. you’d never felt so exposed, so wanted.

you whined again, a needy sound that seemed to spur them both on. arthur’s kisses grew more insistent, his teeth scraping against the sensitive flesh of your neck. his hand moved to the other breast, rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. the pleasure was almost too much to bear, and you bucked your hips against george’s hand.

george chuckled against your mouth, his thumb brushing over your clit through the fabric of your underwear. “not so fast, love,” he murmured. “let’s get you out of these, shall we?”

his hand tugged gently at the waistband of your panties, inching them down over your hips. the fabric whispered against your skin as it slid down your thighs, and you felt a rush of cool air against your most intimate parts. arthur’s eyes were glued to the show, his pupils blown wide. his hand stilled on your breast, his breaths coming in ragged pants.

once your underwear was gone, george’s fingers delved deeper, slipping inside your folds. your back arched off the bed as he touched you, the sensation overwhelming. arthur’s kisses grew more frantic, his hands roaming your body. you could feel the tension in the air, the anticipation of what was to come.

you reached for the button of arthur’s pants, eager to feel him the way he was feeling you. your trembling hands made quick work of the button and zipper, pushing the fabric down. his erection sprang free, thick and hot against your stomach. george’s eyes flicked down to watch, his own arousal palpable.

you took arthur’s length in your hand, marveling at the velvety skin. he hissed, his eyes squeezing shut as you tentatively began to stroke him. your hand was small, but it fit around him perfectly. you watched his face, the way his jaw clenched and his eyes rolled back. it was like you were learning him, mapping out his reactions. with a gentle squeeze, you felt him pulse in your hand.

his precum had gathered at the tip, glistening in the faint light. without thinking, you smudged it with your thumb, spreading it over his head. "fuck," arthur groaned, his hips jerking forward. he was so close, you could feel it. "please," he begged, his voice a desperate whisper. "please, i need more."

you gave him a wicked smile, enjoying the power you had over him. "patience," you murmured, leaning in to kiss the side of his neck. your teeth grazed his skin, and you felt him shiver. your hand stilled for a moment, making him whine. "please," he said again, his voice strained.

you looked at george, seeking his approval, his eyes glinted with mischief in the dim light. "are you asking for my permission?" he said, his tone light and playful, but with an underlying seriousness. you bit your bottom lip, feeling a thrill at the thought of being in control of this situation. "yes," you whispered, your eyes flicking between the two of them.

george chuckled, a low rumble in his chest that sent warmth spreading through you. "you don't need to ask, love," he said, his hand stilling for a moment, "you're in charge here." his eyes held yours, a silent dare to push the boundaries of your comfort zone. "but remember, you can always say stop."

you nodded, your heart racing as you took arthur's cock in your hand again. his eyes rolled back, and he moaned as your strokes grew firmer, your rhythm steady. his breath grew ragged, and his hips began to rock into your hand. "yes," he hissed, his voice strained. "just like that."

george's eyes never left yours as he slid his fingers through your wetness. he found your clit, and you gasped as he began to circle it, matching the tempo of your hand on arthur. your eyes squeezed shut, the sensations becoming too much to handle.

arthur's hand found its way to the back of your neck, pulling you closer for a deeper kiss. his tongue danced with yours as you both lost yourself in the moment. you could feel him getting closer to climax, his hips bucking against your hand, his breaths coming in short, sharp bursts against your lips.

you still your hand, watching the anticipation on his face as he waited for release. his eyes shot open, searching yours, and you smirked, feeling a thrill of power. "not yet," you murmur against his mouth, and he lets out a frustrated groan, his hand moving to grip your hair.

you break the kiss, turning your attention to george. with a boldness that surprised even yourself, you grab his wrist and pull his hand to your mouth. you suck on his fingers, one by one, your tongue swirling around each digit, tasting your own arousal. his eyes go wide, and he lets out a deep, throaty groan. the sound sends a fresh wave of desire crashing over you.

you look at him, your eyes hooded with lust. "you're still wearing too many clothes," you purr, your voice a sultry whisper that fills the air with a heady tension. arthur's hand stutters in your hair, his eyes flicking to george's half-dressed form.

george grins, a wolfish expression that makes your stomach flip. without breaking eye contact, he reaches down and unbuttons his jeans, the sound echoing in the quiet room. his zipper hisses as it's drawn down, the sound seeming to slice through the silence. you watch, your breath catching in your throat, as he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and tugs them down. his cock springs free, thick and proud, and you can't help the way your eyes widen at the sight of him.

he’s thicker than arthur, the head of his cock a dark, tempting shade of red. a bead of precum glistens at the tip, and your mouth waters at the thought of feeling him. his length isn’t quite the same as arthur’s, but there’s something about his girth that makes him seem so much more substantial. you can feel your pussy clench with anticipation, eager for the feel of him inside you.

his kiss deepens, his tongue sliding against yours, and his hand slides between your legs again. his fingers slip easily inside you, filling you up and sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. you moan into his mouth, your body arching off the bed. his thumb circles your clit, and the pressure builds, your breath hitching in your throat.

arthur watches, his hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it with a frenzied energy. his eyes are dark with lust, his jaw tight with restraint. you can feel his eyes on you, devouring every move, every sound you make. he watches with rapt attention as george’s fingers move in and out of you, his hand slick with your arousal.

george’s kiss grows more urgent, his tongue dancing with yours in a passionate tango. his fingers work their magic, each stroke sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body. your moans grow louder, and your hips buck against his hand. you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

but just as you’re about to tumble over, george pulls his hand away, leaving you gasping for more. you whine in protest, but his grip on your hips is firm, turning you over so that you’re on your stomach.

his hands are rough as they grip your hips, urging you up onto all fours. you look over your shoulder, eyes wide with anticipation, and see the hungry look in his eyes. you look ahead of you and your breath catches in your throat as you notice arthur's gaze, sitting at the headboard, his hand still moving in jerky strokes over his own erection. the sight of the two of them, so focused on you, sends a thrill down your spine.

without a word, arthur moves closer, his cock bobbing with the motion. you feel the tip of him brush against your lower lip, and you open your mouth instinctively. he groans, his hand guiding himself into you. the taste of him is faintly salty, the scent of his arousal filling your nostrils. your tongue darts out, eager to explore, and you feel him throb in response.

george’s hands are on your hips, his fingers digging in. with one swift thrust, he enters you from behind, the suddenness of it making you gag around arthur’s cock. your eyes water, but you don’t pull away. instead, you push back into him, eager for more. his grip tightens, his hips moving in a steady rhythm that matches arthur’s thrusts. the sensation is overwhelming—being filled by one as you take another into your mouth.

arthur’s moans grow louder, his hips moving in time with george’s. you can feel the tension in his body as he nears his climax. your own pleasure builds, each thrust of george’s cock sending a fresh wave of desire crashing over you. your mouth moves over arthur, his taste filling your senses.

george’s hand finds its way to your clit, his thumb circling it in a torturously slow rhythm. you can feel yourself tightening around him, each stroke pushing you closer to the edge. arthur’s moans become more desperate, his hand gripping the back of your head.

“you’re doing so well, poppet,” george whispers, his voice thick with lust. “so eager to take both of us, aren’t you?” his words are like a drug, sending a fresh rush of excitement through your veins.

his thrusts grow deeper, more demanding, his fingers playing your body like a finely-tuned instrument. you moan around arthur’s cock, the vibrations sending shivers through him. he groans, his grip tightening in your hair. "fuck, you're going to make me cum," he pants, his voice strained.

george chuckles darkly, his breath hot against your ear. "that's it, love," he murmurs, his voice low and seductive. "just like that. let him feel how much you want it." his hand moves to your neck, his thumb caressing the sensitive skin as he teases, "are you going to swallow for him, poppet?"

his words only serve to spur you on, and with newfound determination, you hollow your cheeks and take arthur deeper. you feel him hit the back of your throat, and the sensation is both foreign and exhilarating. your eyes water, but you don't pull back. instead, you push through the urge to gag, eager to take all of him.

arthur's eyes squeeze shut, his head thrown back. "fuck, she's amazing," he gasps out, his voice tight with pleasure. george grunts in agreement, his strokes becoming more urgent. "so tight," he says, his voice strained. "you're so fucking tight, love."

the two of them talk about you as if you're nothing more than a toy to be used, their words a mix of praise and possession. "you love this, don't you?" arthur says, his eyes meeting george's over your body. "love having us both inside you."

george's reply is a gruff growl. "so fucking hot," he says, his thrusts growing more erratic. "look how eager she is for it." his hand squeezes your hip, his thumb brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

you whine around arthur's cock, the sensation of george inside you and arthur in your mouth too much to handle. your body is a live wire, each touch sending bolts of pleasure through you. your own orgasm builds, the pressure coiling low in your stomach.

arthur’s strokes become erratic, his breath hitching. "i'm going to cum," he warns, his voice tight with need. you nod, your eyes locked on his, and you feel a strange mix of fear and excitement. his eyes never leave yours as he reaches his peak, his hips jerking, his cock pulsing in your mouth.

you feel the hot spurt of his release hit the back of your throat, and for a moment, you’re overwhelmed by the sensation. but you remember george’s words and swallow, taking all of arthur in. his moan echoes through the room, and his grip on your hair relaxes as he slumps back, panting. you pull away, licking your lips, feeling a sense of pride at your own bravery.

george’s eyes are on you, his expression a mix of admiration and pure, unadulterated lust. without warning, he pulls out, and you feel the sudden emptiness. but before you can miss him, his hand is on your chest, urging you up onto your knees. you comply, and he kneels behind you, his thighs pressing against the back of yours, his cock nudging your entrance again.

his murmurs grow more insistent, his breath hot against your ear. "you're so fucking beautiful," he says, his voice a low rumble. "so perfect, taking us both." he enters you again, his strokes fast and hard. your moans fall into tempo with his thrusts, the sound a symphony of pleasure that fills the room.

you look at arthur, his face a picture of bliss as he watches. his hand is still around his cock, stroking it lazily, his eyes never leaving the sight of you with george. "you're so good," george whispers, his voice thick with satisfaction. "so fucking good." the words are like a caress, and you find yourself pushing back into him, eager to feel him deeper.

suddenly, george’s hand wraps around your neck, his grip firm but not painful. it’s a dominance that sends a shiver of excitement down your spine. your eyes widen, but you don’t pull away. instead, you lean into it, the thrill of it all making your body respond in a way you never thought possible. his strokes become more erratic, his hips slapping against your ass as he drives into you.

the pressure builds, coiling tighter and tighter, until with a strangled cry, you squirt around his cock. the feeling is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced—wet and warm, your pussy clenching around him in a way that makes his eyes roll back in his head. "fuck," he groans, his grip on your neck tightening for a moment before he relaxes it. "you're so fucking incredible."

his thrusts grow more frenzied, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. his hand moves from your neck to grip your hip, his other hand sliding around to tease your clit. you're lost in the sensation, your body moving instinctively, your hips rocking back to meet each of his thrusts. you can feel your orgasm approaching like a runaway train, unstoppable and all-consuming.

"please, george," you beg, the words barely audible through your moans. "cum inside me." his eyes flick to yours, his pupils blown wide with lust. the request seems to push him over the edge, and he groans, his strokes growing even deeper, more possessive. "you want it?" he pants, his voice rough with need.

you nod, your breaths coming in shallow gasps. "yes," you whine, your voice high and needy. "i want it." the words seem to echo through the room, setting something primal free in both of them.

george's eyes flash with something almost feral, and he slams into you one final time, his cock hitting your g-spot with a precision that makes your vision swim. your orgasm crashes over you, your body shaking with the force of it. his own follows closely, his cock pulsing deep inside you as he releases.

you collapse onto the bed, his weight comforting as he holds you close. arthur moves closer, his hand gentle as he strokes your hair. the three of you are a tangled mess of limbs and damp skin, panting in the aftermath of what just happened. the room smells like sex and sweat, a musky scent that fills your nostrils and makes your head swim.

"bloody hell," arthur says, his voice filled with awe. "that was…" he trails off, unable to find the words. george chuckles, his chest rumbling against your back. "yeah," he agrees, his voice still thick with lust. "that was something else."

you can't help but smile, feeling a warm glow of satisfaction spread through you. the reality of what just happened begins to sink in, but there's no room for regret or doubt in this moment. you're surrounded by the warmth of your best friends, their arms a comforting embrace as you all try to catch your breath.

george pulls out of you with a groan, and you feel the stickiness between your legs. his cum leaks out of you, a testament to the intensity of what you've shared. arthur's hand trails down your spine, his touch tender. "are you okay?" he asks, his voice concerned.

you nod, still trying to catch your breath. "yeah," you murmur, a lazy smile playing on your lips. "i'm more than okay." the truth is, you're floating on a cloud of pleasure, your body still humming with aftershocks of your orgasm. "that was…" you trail off, unable to find the right words. "amazing," arthur supplies, his smile mirroring yours.

the three of you lie there, the silence comfortable, the air charged with a newfound intimacy. you can feel your heart pounding in your chest, a strange mix of emotions swirling through you. but you don't want to ruin the moment with questions about what happens next. instead, you revel in the feeling of their skin against yours, the way arthur’s chest rises and falls with each breath he takes, and the gentle kisses george presses along your spine.

#george clarkey #george clarke #george clarkey x reader #george clarke x reader #george clarkey smut #arthur tv #arthur frederick #arthurtv x reader #arthurtv imagines #arthurtv smut #arthurtv fics #arthurtv x you #arthur tv x reader #arthurtv #british youtubers #uk youtubers

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 3 months ago

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Call Him 'Mr. Handle It' (Eren Y. x Black!F!Reader 18+ One Shot)

Pairing: Possessive BF!Eren Yeager x GF!Feader

Synopsis: Eren is unlike any boyfriend you have ever had...and you mean that because no other has been as obsessive and possessive with you as he is. While he isn't controlling, he will definitely let somebody know that you are his. So when he accompanies you to a work dinner and catches the creep at work that you've been complaining about lately, Eren makes it very clear that his baby is NOT to be played with. And despite his best efforts, he'll have to make that known to you too...in private.

Warnings: Smutty Smut, 18+ (MINORS DNI), Mild Plug!Eren x Mild Bimbo!Reader, Argument to Sex Pipeline lol, Masturbation, Voyeurism, Exhibitonism, Car Sex, Oral (Giving & Receiving), Blowjob While Driving, Doggy & Missionary on the Car, Dom!Eren x sub!Reader, Tongue Piercing, Deep Dicking, Reader Cums 2x, Mutual O, Creampie, Eren is Possessive, Protective, Obsessive & He is Strapped

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: Had this one up in my head after listening to SZA. Hope y'all enjoy! -Jazz

****************

"Eren, baby, just please try to stay calm tonight."

Eren, your boyfriend who will proudly introduce himself to anyone and everyone as just that, gives you a hard side-eye as you walk together into the high-end restaurant for your work-related dinner party.

"Whatchu mean?" he asks. "I'm always calm. You're talkin' to me as if I'm five seconds away from crashin' out, babe."

He cracks a smile to reassure you-his baby, his princess, his everything-and ease your frazzled nerves, but it doesn't do much to soften that anxious look on your face. It does nothing to take away from how goddamn gorgeous you look tonight in your black mini dress, nylon stockings, and heels.

"No, but..." You trail off, looking off to the side at the bar filled with the stereotypically loud and stuffy businessmen that are no doubt the higher-ups in your corporate company. No doubt you're looking out for someone in particular.

And Eren believes he knows just who, but he won't say it until he is sure he has found him for himself. 'Blonde hair, mole on his cheek,' he thinks to himself. Truthfully, this is the only reason he decided to come: to see just who is bothering his girl while she's working hard at work.

When you walked in from work last week, talking about how someone asked you out to your work-related dinner party that you had already texted Eren about, Eren was ready to cut a bitch. You had giggled about it at the time like nothing was wrong. "Yeah, that Rui guy I told you about asked me to the dinner," you said.

"Uh-huh," Eren replied, focusing hard on his cutting skills to avoid jabbing the knife into the counter. He can feel anger pouring through him at the blatant disrespect he was hearing with his own two ears. "And what did you say?"

"Don't worry, boo," you reassured him as you sat your cute ass on the counter beside him. "I told him that you're my date. He didn't know I had a boyfriend, but I never talk about my relationship at work."

Perhaps that is why this Rui guy that Eren has heard so much about kept complimenting your work fits and chatting you up until recently when he finally dropped his "nice guy" act and asked you out. Eren had been slicing garlic for a steak dinner that night, but all he could think about was pulling up to this bozo's house and putting that knife in his....

'No,' he thought, releasing his grip on the knife handle. 'No murder. Remember what is at stake.'

His booming tattoo shop, popular on Twitter, Instagram, and among celebrities like Rihanna. The cozy apartment he shares with you as your roommate and partner. His pit bull puppy Lil' Eren that you adopted for him for Christmas. His amazing friends and work team. His weed side hustle. His motorcycle.

You. Beautiful, adorable, amazing you. Eren has never felt so deeply about another person the way he does you. When he met you in that bar four years ago when you were introduced as a friend of Armin, his childhood friend, it was a done deal.

Once he got a look at those curves, those pretty brown eyes, and that smile, he was obsessed with you and wanted so much to scoop you up, put you in his pocket, and ride off with you on his motorcycle. He learned later on that the feeling was mutual.

As soon as you got a look at the tattoos roping those toned arms, his piercings, pretty smile, and intense, steely eyes, you were hooked. Eren always had a very confident way to him that remains quiet yet vibrant. It's in the way he speaks. It's in his gait. It's in his personality. You can't get enough of it.

And it's especially in the way he protects you. Some would say that Eren is obsessive, and perhaps, he may be, but anyone who sees you would be. As cute and as sweet as you are, how could a man not want to keep you safe?

Eren considers himself possessive over you. He doesn't go overboard telling you where to go or what to wear (he isn't THAT insane), but he does check in with you often and will gladly go anywhere you want to go.

You're going out with friends? He'll drive you there in his Range Rover and hold your tiny purse if you ask with a "Sure, sweetheart" and a kiss. You want to go to the gym and run some errands? He'll be your personal trainer and slice a motherfucker with his eyes checking out your ass in yoga pants. He is your unofficial bodyguard

He would gladly go to work with you too, but alas, he must let his baby be a big girl and a good little employee, and handle her business alone. But that doesn't mean he won't show up when you need him to.

Eren just doesn't like anyone toying with what is his. Like his pretty motorcycle and his pretty car, you are his alone, which means no one can even touch or look at you in a way he perceives as more than friendly. And this Rui guy? Definitely more than friendly.

This flirtatious leech has been irking Eren for quite some time-probably for over a month since you started chatting about him. Whenever you had come home with more news about his many attempts at buttering you up-"He complimented my skirt today!" or "He said I should wear my hair like this more often, tee-hee~"-, Eren patiently and quietly listened, hoping for the chance to see this guy and put his fist in his face.

Unfortunately, in addition to his possessive nature, Eren is also a hothead. He manages to combat it with boxing lessons and much-needed rough sex with you where he tosses your ass around the bed like you weigh nothing, but if someone is working his nerves, like a guy who can't take the hint that you're taken, he can't just keep calm and put his emotions on ice.

Luckily for you, he knows how important this dinner is to you, and will be on his best behavior. "You got nothin' to worry about, mama," he soothingly tells you as he walks you farther into the restaurant. "I'd never embarrass you like you think I would."

"I didn't say that," you protest. "You don't have to. It's all over that pretty face."

"I'm sorry," you whimper. "I just don't like to see you get mad. You'll make yourself sick."

"Always lookin' out fa' me," he dreamily sighs. "Don't worry about me, okay? If I see the guy, I'll just leave him be and let you handle it. I'm sure your boss is around here somewhere."

The plan tonight is for you to "handle your business" and talk to your boss about Rui aka the pervert fuck who keeps harassing you. Initially, you didn't think too much of anything about his compliments and advances being that you never disclosed that you were with someone.

But once you rejected his date to the dinner, Rui changed...or as you stated to Eren, he changed. When you came home this week with your mascara soaking your cheeks, which meant you had been crying, Eren was on about 100 and ready to commit a drive-by on the one who made you cry.

He hung up your pretty pink peacoat for you, took you in his arms, and sat you down in his lap. "What is it?" he gently asked you. "Talk to me, baby. I'm right here." You sobbed your pretty eyes out for a bit, ruining your makeup even more, before you answered him. "I-It's that guy, Rui," you sobbed.

You then proceeded to tell Eren that Rui told you during your shared elevator ride (in which he practically forced by running on and then pressing the pause button) that you led him on and that Eren is lucky to have gotten himself such an 'easy' girl.

Eren felt like wringing someone's neck at the thought of some bum fuck insulting and disrespecting his girl. "What he look like?" he asked. You took notice of his acerbic tone and suspiciously squinted at him. "Why?" you asked. "Eren, please don't do anything stupid."

Your boyfriend completely ignored you, tapping your nose. "You didn't answer my question: what does he look like?" He drilled you with an intense stare that you couldn't ignore or squirm away from. "Short, blonde, and has a mole on his cheek," you reluctantly muttered. "I wanna handle this, Ren. This is my business, and my job! So I should be able to handle it."

He had agreed, but God knows he isn't going to listen. While Eren is proud of you for wanting to do this on your own, he also isn't going to let you. He knows how guys like Rui are and he knows that if he finds out you reported him, he'll make your days at work even more unbearable.

"You trust me, right?" he asks you now. He stares down into your perfect face, beat to perfection with Fenty Beauty makeup. "Of course, I do," you reply, looking up at him with those long, doll-like lashes. "I'll always trust you, Ren." That gives him more happiness than anything else ever could. Your trust is everything to him...but so is your safety.

"Y/N!" someone yells across the room. "Over here! Bring your man too!" You both turn, finding a brunette standing in a purple gown, surrounded by your other coworkers. "Oh, there's Sasha!" you happily squeal. "Oooh, and they've got a chocolate fountain!" Eren chuckles at your cuteness, kissing your forehead. "You go and get yourself some. I'm gonna head to the bar and get some drinks."

"K," you giggle and give his cheek a peck before walking off. As you saunter away, he watches your ass jiggle, shake, and bounce in your dress. "Fuck," he mutters to himself, feeling his cock twitch. How the fuck did he get so lucky?

After shaking off his hard-on and the urge to bend you over in front of your coworkers, boss, and the entire company, Eren walks over to the bar located off to the right side of the room where he is accompanied by others in their best-dressed clothes. After flagging down the bartender and ordering you and your friends mini-margaritas, with a shot of vodka for himself, he is suddenly aware of the couple sitting a stool down from him.

The girlfriend is tall and slender with a red cocktail dress and stripper heels. "Where the hell is this bartender?" she scoffs, slamming one manicured hand down on the bar. "Is the service always this slow here?"

"C'mon, Cheryl, don't," her boyfriend mutters. "It's a fuckin' dinner party...or did you forget that? You were the one who was desperate to come." He sounds so bitter that Eren has to turn around to look...and nearly drops his glass.

Blonde hair. Short. A mole on his neck. So this is the Rui guy that he's heard so much about. He has an even more punchable face than Eren fantasized about. "I was not desperate!" Cheryl hisses, glaring down at him. She is taller than him even when sitting. "Why are you being such a dick to me tonight?"

Rui takes an unbothered shot of his beer which Eren is sure isn't his first or second. "Well, maybe it's because I was almost an hour late 'cause you were too busy with your hair earlier," he hisses back.

Cheryl slinks an arm on his shoulder, squeezing it. "I did that for you," she seductively coos, peering down at him with hooded eyes as she teases her curls with the other. "C'mooon, Rui. You don't think my hair looks good enough to grab?" Eren resists the urge to laugh into his drink. So this man is clearly cuffed, but flirting with other women? What a tool!

"Hey, Rui!" comes a shout. Rui's attention from Cheryl shifts and he looks towards his buddy. "Keni, my boy!" he guffaws. "I was waitin' to see your skinny ass tonight!" The two hug and pat each other on the back while Cheryl sits there, teasing her hair and looking very irritated. Especially since Rui doesn't introduce her, so Keni has to do it himself. "Hi, I'm Keni. I work in Rui's department with him."

"Cheryl," Rui's mystery girlfriend says with a tight smile. "Rui, I'll be right back." She doesn't clarify where she's going and Rui doesn't ask, so she struts off for the exit. Eren hopes she's planning on leaving his sorry ass here.

As the bartender returns with the round for you and your coworkers, Eren perks an ear to listen in on the two businessmen. "Soooo that your new girl?" Keni asks. Rui scoffs, his words slightly slurred. "Oh, please, dude! You know me. She just thinks she's my new girl." The raucous laugh that escapes him pisses Eren off even more.

"So what ever happened to that Y/N girl?" Keni curiously asks. "She's here, y'know." Eren watches as he looks towards you and your sinful red dress. "She looks good."

Rui only spares you a side-eye. "Oh, her," he spits. Eren grips his glass so tight that he is sure he'll break it. "Told me she had a boyfriend last week even though she's been actin' like she's been single this whole time! I mean, why didn't you say anything while I was giving you all of those compliments? Like you think I'm chatting about your hair 'cause I think I'm so interested in what you do to it?"

Eren drains the rest of his vodka before returning to his eavesdrop session. He is silent...and silent Eren isn't good. "So I take it you didn't hit?" his friend chuckles. Rui hums in acknowledgement. "It's for the best. She's easy anyway. You should see the shit she wears to work."

Quickly, Eren takes the round of mini margaritas and hurries away from the bar. If he had murder on his mind before, it is even worse now. He can't escape the images of him slamming Rui's face into the bar after smashing his glass over his fat head. 'Stay calm,' he thinks like he would chant a mantra. 'Stay calm. Stay fuckin' calm.'

When he gets back over to you, you and your bright smile are like a breath of fresh air. "Hey, baby, there you are!" you joyfully exclaim, holding a plate of chocolate, fruit, and pastries. Sasha ogles at the tray Eren holds. "Oooh, he got just drinks!" she giggles. "What a gentleman."

Eren stiffly hands the margaritas out to you and your friends. "Don't mention it," he says, but it sounds forced even to him. Your smile fades and your pretty eyes roam over his face. "What's wrong?" you whisper. God, you know him so well.

Eren's eyes flick across the room to the bar, just in time to see Rui's short stack ass making a beeline to the bathroom. "Nothin', babe, just gotta pee." He pecks you on the cheek, giving you a reassuring wink. "I'll be back. Enjoy yourself."

He leaves before you can ask anymore questions and makes a break from the bathroom, trailing right behind Rui. He cracks his knuckles while he does so. When he gets to the bathroom, Rui is right where Eren wants him: alone and unbothered, pissing in a urinal.

Eren decides to go for the one next to him. He only gives the dickhead a friendly nod when he unzips his pants and takes his dick out to do his business. They are silent, the only sounds being the muffled music from the dinner party and their piss hitting the porcelain urinals.

As soon as Rui is done, he zips up his slacks and moves to the sinks, whistling to himself. Eren follows after several seconds later, not wanting to seem too suspicious but also wanting to grab this chance by the horns. They both run hot water, the sound filling the tense air between them.

As Eren lathers his hands, he risks a chance at conversation: "Crazy out there, ain't it?" he asks. Rui is more than happy (and drunk) to engage. "Oh, yeah," he agrees with a laugh. "I'm only three drinks in and I need more. These kinda events get so borin' though."

Eren hums in agreement. "I would think if you didn't have a date and came alone." Rui pauses and turns to him, tapping a finger on his stubbly chin. "Say...do you know someone here? I don't think I've ever seen you before."

Eren's brows raise in question, wondering if the guy is serious. Didn't he see him walk in with you earlier? "You don't know who I am," he realizes. Rui's eyebrows knit in confusion. "Uh...no? Am I supposed to? You work in one of the departments?"

Eren bites his lip, choosing his next words carefully to reel Rui in. "No, I just know a...mutual coworker," he decides. "Someone you know quite well." He stops the water from running and silence ensues.

Rui blinks at him and gives him a humored smile. "Uh...okay? I know a lot of people well." He laughs to himself, trying in vain to ease the tension. It doesn't work.

"From the looks of it, yeah," Eren deadpans, "if you're talkin' to someone who's taken while you're dating somebody else...oh, excuse me. I meant fucking, not dating."

Now Rui's annoying, sloppy smile fades, replaced with an offended expression. "Excuse me?" he scoffs.

"Yeah, excuse you," Eren replies without missing a single beat. He turns to look at Rui fully, no doubt intimidating him with his size difference. "So you got a thing for my girl, is that right? Oh, yeah, you probably have no idea who I mean because you flirt with everything that walks and has a skirt. Does Y/N ring a bell to you?"

Rui blinks once and suddenly, his eyes grow big with fear. "Yeah, that's my girlfriend," Eren continues, his voice getting steelier. "Emphasis on 'my'. She's mine and I don't like anybody playin' with what's mine. 'Specially someone who makes her uncomfortable and can't take a fuckin' hint."

He doesn't go any deeper than that. He knows that Rui knows exactly what he means. "L-Listen, I don't want no trouble," he stammers.

"I know you don't, so allow me to give you a word of advice from me to your sorry ass." Eren leans his arm on the sink and leans in towards Rui who instantly leans back, wanting to get away from the taller, tattooed man.

"If you ever come near Y/N, if you ever talk to her, if you even so much as look her way, and I find out about it, you're gonna have to deal with me. Not her or your boss. Me." He tenses his jaw and narrows his eyes. "And let me tell you: you don't wanna deal with me," he whispers. "You don't want none of this."

Click.

Rui's eyes flick down at the unmistakable sound of a gun cocking in Eren's pocket. He sees it and Eren's thumb grazing the trigger. "How'd you get that in here?" he asks, his voice wavering with fear.

Eren passively shrugs. "I got my ways. None of 'em you need to worry about. What you need to worry about is those slacks." He nods down at Rui's crotch that has gone wet. The man peed himself! Eren resists the urge to laugh.

Your boyfriend smirks as Rui shakes his boots, terrified and traumatized. "So I can trust that I'm not gonna hear about you trappin' her in an elevator or askin' her out again, am I?" he asks, his voice low and menacing.

Rui is so afraid that it takes him several seconds to speak. "Yeah," he chokes out. "I-I mean, no. No, you won't. R-Right!" Eren takes his hand off of his gun and gives him a smile. "Good!" he chirps. Nice meetin' you, Rui! I'll see you out there!"

He then turns and leaves Rui standing there in a puddle of his own mess, open-mouthed, and shaking. When he returns to the party, you have finished your margarita and are standing by the bathroom waiting for him. "Hey, I was looking for you. Is everything okay?"

He smiles into your big, doe-like eyes and wraps a secure arm around you. "Better than okay, baby," he murmurs, nuzzling your cheek. "Where's your crew?" You lean your head into him the way he likes. "They went out to smoke, but you know me: I don't like cigarettes. I was trying to look for my boss to talk about-"

"Don't worry 'bout it," Eren interjects. You pause, taken aback by his words. Then a light flickers behind those eyes. "Did you...say something to him?" you carefully ask, and then your eyes narrow. You're mad. "Eren, I told you that I'd handle it."

"And you did, mama," he reassures you. All I did was see the guy in the bathroom and-"

You toss your arm off of him, enraged. "And what? You threatened him, didn't you?" Eren stays quiet, knowing better than to speak. "Ugh, I can't believe you! You never listen to me!" You begin to storm off, but Eren grabs your hand to stop you. "Hey, hold up," he growls.

But you once again toss his hand off of you, stinging him. "I don't wanna hold up. I wanna go home." So what do you do? You pull your phone out and tap-tap-tap away with those acrylic nails.

Eren forcefully takes your phone, holding it out of reach of you. "No, the fuck you're not orderin' an Uber right in front of me," he growls, looking at your screen. You look away from him, somewhere off to the side. "I don't wanna be around you right now, Eren."

But your boyfriend isn't having none of that. "Too fuckin' bad. And if you keep pushin' me, I'll tear that ass up right here. You know I'm serious, Y/N." At the steely gaze on his face, you begin to flush and cross your arms over your ample bosom. Bratty and defiant but quiet.

"C'mon before people start staring and I really embarrass you," Eren mutters. He takes your hand again. You don't shake it off this time.

************

On the car ride home, you say nothing.

You are completely silent. Even the soft music playing from Eren's AUX doesn't help to ease the tension. You are about fifteen minutes from home when Eren finally speaks. "So are we gonna talk or are you just gonna keep quiet the whole time?" he pushes.

You say nothing, still sitting there like the very angry passenger princess you are with your arms crossed and eyes locked on the world rushing by you out of the window.

Eren drives with one hand on the steering wheel, the other on his lap. He wants so desperately to have it on your thigh instead. "Y/N, baby, I'm sorry," he sighs. "It's not that I didn't trust you to handle it. I just-"

"You just what, Eren?" you snap. He is taken aback by your sudden explosion. "You just couldn't help yourself? What a shock! You couldn't even keep your anger in check for ONE NIGHT!"

You have just opened Pandora's box for a guy like Eren. He grips the wheel so tight that his knuckles turn white. "Listen, I'm not likin' the way you're talkin' about me. I'm not a gasket ready to blow all the fuckin' time, Y/N, but you know how I feel about you. I told you from the jump that I'm very protective over what's mine."

You squint accusingly at him. "What's yours?" you scoff.

"Yes, mine," he replies, and his tone is final. Firm. Not to be argued with. "Da fuck? You got no problem with me callin' you that in bed, so why are you trippin' now?"

"Don't talk to me like that!" you bark, raising your voice now. "I'm not a car or a pet or a child, Eren! I can make my own decisions and handle situations myself! I didn't need your help!"

Your boyfriend scoffs, smiling dryly at the road. At this point, he is going 50 on a 30 speed-limited road. "So what? Now I'm the bad guy because I wanted to protect my girlfriend and make sure she's safe?"

Though the tension ebbs, it is still there hanging in the air. "Don't do that," you argue, but your voice grows soft. "Don't make me feel guilty."

"Yeah, you should!" he snaps. Now it's his turn to raise his voice and it makes you visibly flinch. "You should feel fuckin' stupid for even fighting with me about this! You tried to handle it once and that pervert didn't take the hint, so I drilled it in his head. Trust that he won't bother you anymore. No one is going to make you feel uncomfortable or unsafe while I'm here, Y/N, and maybe you need to get that drilled in your head too."

"Eren," you softly exhale. But he doesn't let you finish.

"I'm mad as fuck at you right now," he seethes, "but not enough to not make you see that I love you. I'm fuckin' crazy about you. Crazy enough to kill anybody that makes you frown? Yes. Crazy enough to tie you up and keep you in our apartment forever just to keep you safe? Hell yes. But you love your job, so the least I can do is make sure you're straight and no motherfucker tries you. You deserve better than that."

"Eren," you whimper. Your sweet voice manages to calm him down a smidge and he loosens his grip on the wheel. "We can talk more when we get home," he mutters. "And you're welcome, by the way."

You are silent, barely even giving him a little mewl of acknowledgment. He looks over and his eyes nearly pop out of his skull. "What are you doing?" he hisses. "Are you fuckin' touchin' yourself?"

Sure enough, there you are in the passenger seat, your thighs speed and your hand trailed down between them, gently rubbing yourself through your panties. Eren stares in shock as your manicured fingers toy with your pussy only covered by the thin layer of cloth. "Were you wet the entire time I said all of that?" he asks, curious. Your eyes flicker down at his pants, obviously aching for his cock.

"And don't lie," he growls. "You know I can tell when you're lyin' to me." Your eyes flick back up to him as your hand continues to rub yourself. "Y-Yes," you stammer.

Eren's cock springs to life in his pants, chubbing against his slacks. The tension before has vanished, but it is now replaced with something more sexual. "Ohhh, so it turns you on to see your man like this, hm? What ever happened to all that BS you were spewin' at the dinner?"

"Eren, please," you sigh. Your soft voice is an aphrodisiac to him as well as his kryptonite. No matter how much you piss him off, you never fail to turn him on and make him forget why he was even angry at you in the first place. You're a vixen the way you toy with your pussy and tease your breast at the same time, using one hand to pop both of your titties out for him to see.

Eren has never been the one to speed, but he is pressing hard on the gas now, weaving between cars and getting some honks in return. "You wanna put that hand somewhere, put it right here." He uses his free hand to slide it down to his crotch, gripping his semi-hard cock that is quickly pulsing and throbbing from the sight of you.

And like a fiend in need of her next fix, you unbuckle your seat belt, fully trusting Eren's driving skills, and switch position so you're kneeling in your seat. You then lean over his lap and proceed to rub him through his pants, sliding your palm up and down his hard-on. "Ah," he sighs, his head leaning back against his seat. "Fuck."

Feeling your soft hand applying pressure to his cock is making it so much harder to focus on the road. And when you finally unzip his pants and take his dick out so he can feel your soft, pretty hand wrap around him, he nearly swerves into another car trying to hop into a closer empty spot.

He raises a hand as an apology to the angered driver, but he isn't as apologetic when you begin gathering the pre-cum pooling at the head of his cock to slide down his shaft. A shuddery moan leaves his lips as you ogle at his cock, your eyes widening in excitement from the way it continues to harden and throb in your palm.

You're so excited that you begin to litter Eren's cock in kisses, adding some long licks along the vein that trails from his heavy balls to the dripping, bulbous tip. Eren chuckles, feeling ticklish from your kitten kisses along his dick. "What are you...oh, shit!"

He loudly gasps and grips the wheel with both hands as you begin to suck on his cock. The perfect grip you have on his shaft stroking him up and down combined with your soft lips, wet tongue, and heavenly throat gripping him tight are all enough to make him bust. "You little pervert," he chuckles. "You're so eager fa' me. Jesus, babe, you drive me fuckin' crazy, you know that?"

His hand slides along the back of your head as you suck away at him, hollowing out your cheeks to make your mouth vacuum-tight for him. He groans at the feeling, tiny vibrations of pleasure making his entire body shiver. When he stops at a red light, you slide your wet mouth off of him and stare up at him with hooded, lustful eyes. "M'sorry, Daddy," you murmur against his cock.

Eren has never wanted to fuck you more than right now, seeing his dick pressed against your soft cheek. "Prove it."

That is all he needs to say to you. Immediately, you go back to giving him your sloppy, tight throat as the red light turns green. He hits the gas immediately, speeding off so fast that his tires squeal. To anyone watching through their cars, they would only see your head bobbing up and down as you suck off your boyfriend like your life depends on it.

Eren soon grows feral, his hand curling in your hair and pushing you down deeper. "Deeper, babe," he growls. "Take me deeper. I know you can do it." You gag around his cock, the lewd sound making him throb. One of your hands press into his lap, stopping you from taking too much.

"You let me worry 'bout drivin', okay?" he breathlessly hisses. "You just worry about takin' this cock." You do as you're told, continuing to sloppily suck off your man, causing saliva to dribble down your chin and onto Eren's balls and the leather seats. Neither one of you care. Not when Eren's moans sound so fucking hot to you and your mouth feels so fucking good to him.

Curiosity gets the better of him and he takes his hand out of your hair to instead occupy underneath your dress. He smiles as you moan around his cock as his fingers glide between your thighs to move your panties to the side. Sure enough, when his index and middle fingers glide along your puffy, soft slit, his fingertips become sticky.

"Fuck, you're wet!" he hisses. "You're such a little slut, makin' me this mad just to get me off." His thighs quiver and shake when you begin to suck him off faster, your hand stroking what your mouth can't take, desperate to make him bust.

But not yet. Not in here. He's so glad that he manages to get off the highway before quickly switching lanes and getting on a route that isn't for home. A sharp left turn makes you squeak, his cock slipping out of your mouth. "W-What are you doing?" you gasp.

He silences you by pushing your head back down towards his cock. "Don't worry about it," he growls. "And don't stop suckin' till I stop this fuckin' car."

Once again, you do as he orders and keep sloppily and wetly blowing him as he drives like a maniac. When he manages to scout out an empty hospital building with an open, empty garage, he just about praises God. Sssssskrt goes the tires when Eren literally Akira slides into the empty parking garage.

And like a good girl, you finally stop sucking. You sit up, your eyes big and your mouth wet, all of your lipgloss gone. "Get out," he finally demands. He doesn't even look at you when he says it. "What?" you dumbly ask. He turns to you and from the way your breath hitches, he knows that you know that you're in trouble. "I didn't stutter. Get out the car."

With some hesitation, you wipe the spit off of your mouth and open the door to get out of the car. Your dress is hiked up to show off your panties that Eren realizes is a thong from the way your asscheeks eat it up. He smacks your ass on your way out before he slides out of the driver's seat, dick still out and slamming the door shut.

He meets you around the front of his car and stands behind you, your ass pressed against his cock still dripping in your spit. He groans in your ear as the cool air makes him shiver and his naked cock twitch. You whimper as you feel him, trapped with nowhere to escape.

"You wanna be a slut, this is what sluts get," he cooly says. "Hands on the hood. Bend that ass over fa' me." Slowly, you do as you're told, pressing your hands against the car hood. Eren watches your ass with interest, loving how your thong sinks deeper between your asscrack. "A thong, baby?" he tsks. "Oh, you we're hopin' to get fucked later tonight."

Thwap, thwap, thwap!

You let out a soft, slutty moan when you feel his cock slap each of your asscheeks before gliding down to tease your hole. "E-Eren, baby, wait," you weakly protest. "Someone could see us."

Eren sucks his teeth, unashamed and unbothered by these other people. "I don't give a fuck," he growls. "Should've thought about that before you started playin' with that pussy in my car. Now do you wanna get my mouth or not?"

At the prospect of not receiving his tongue on your needy pussy, you bite your lip and turn to stare at him over your shoulder. "I do," you confess. "Please, Daddy. I'm sorry." He smirks at you and presses a kiss to your ass as he kneels down behind you. "You will be."

You realize just how serious he is moments later when he has you arching your ass into him as he sloppily and greedily eats your cunt over the hood of his Range Rover, his tongue piercing sliding along your slippery clit as his hands grip and spank your ass.

You slip and slid along the hood, your tits nearly spilling out of your dress and pushing against the cool metal. “Oh, my God!” you moan. “Eren!” You can't keep quiet. Your body refuses to as your man tongues your pussy like his life depends on it.

He pulls away to grin up at you, prying your asscheeks apart with his hands to admire the way his saliva drips from there down to your glistening pussy. “Yeah?” he teases. “Does my baby like that piercing?”

He teases you with his tongue again, making sure to slide his metal stud against your needy button while he uses one thumb to gently rim your asshole. Your moans and whimpers grow louder, echoing throughout the empty lot. “Yes, fuck, Daddy, keep going!”

Hearing your sweet voice grow ragged with need and pleasure makes Eren go feral. How he loves being the man to feast on your cunt. How he loves being your boyfriend and your Daddy, using you when he wants and pleasing you when you need. His tongue sinks into your pussy, filling you up and making you nearly moan your voice box out. “So good,” he mutters into your hole. “All for me.”

He continues to lick and slurp away at everything you give him, making your thighs quiver and your ass bounce against him as you begin to fuck his tongue. Finally, with a desperate "Fuck, Ren, I'm gonna cum!", you finally flood Eren's tongue with all of your sweet honey, drenching his mouth and chin in your cream.

Hearing your moans and tasting your cum makes Eren take one hand off of your ass to stroke his hard, throbbing cock, fucking his fist at the sound of you. After he finishes up licking you clean and pressing kisses along your pussy to make you twitch, Eren finally stands with his dick swinging between his thighs and leans over to see you.

You are pressed against the hood, breathing heavy and looking like an absolute slut with your ass and pussy hanging out of your dress hiked up over your hips. He gently lifts you up and turns you around to face him, growing harder at the sight of your messy mascara and ruined lipgloss. "Now do you get the message?" he asks, gripping your chin in his palm. "Or do you need a better persuasion?"

You gulp, looking like a fish out of water. "I...I want..." He smiles, watching your pretty brain leave your head. "Huh?" he teasingly asks. "You want what? C'mon, use your words. Tell me what my baby wants."

He takes his cock and taps it against your clit, making you whimper and grip his shoulders as if you're scared he will disappear. "You," you gasp out. "Please, Daddy! I need you in me now!" And as you turn back around and assume the position, Eren feels himself falling more in love with you. "That's a good girl," he whispers. "Always so eager...so needy fa' me."

He begins to kiss along your spine and gently massage your ass, earning soft moans and giggles in response to his ministrations. "Tap me twice if it's too much. You got it?" He taps his cock against your ass before sliding it down to your slit, gently pressing the head against the entrance of your pussy. "Yes, Daddy," you obediently reply. "I won't forget."

But it never is too much for you. Not when Eren's thick cock is stretching you out in the best way possible as he fucks you doggystyle against his car. Your moans and the sound of his thighs repeatedly clapping against your ass echo throughout the empty lot, creating a symphony of sex.

To anyone walking by all they would see is you, his beautiful girl getting her pussy filled and her tits massaged by her semi-naked boyfriend, his pants down and his shirt unbuttoned to reveal his toned torso and tattoos. “Oh!” you moan. “Oh, fuuuuck yes!”

Eren fucks you harder and rougher the more he watches you bounce around his cock like a good little bunny, your ass shaking and quivering so enticingly for him. “Now do you see how you make me feel?” he growls. “You drive me fuckin’ crazy, baby. You and this fuckin’ body.”

SPANK!

You wail out as his hand smacks your ass hard, so loud that one would think that it was a gunshot. “Only I get you this way. No other man could compare to me.”

SPANK!

“Ain’t that right, baby?” he growls in your ear, leaning over to sink his cock in deeper. “Say it! Let me hear you!” Despite your whimpering and sobbing in pleasure, you manage to reply to him despite how illegally good you're feeling on his cock. “Y-Yes!” you whine. “Harder, Daddy, please!”

Eren forces you to straighten your back and lean against him so your back is flush against his front. He fondles one of your tits with one hand while he palms your ass with the other, still pistoning into your tight, wet heat with abandon. “Like this, babe?” he asks. “You want it like this?”

He grins at your blissful, slutted-out expression, your mouth open and eyebrows knitted in ecstasy. “Yes, yes, Eren, fuck me!” you cry out. “Faster! Please!” He pecks your cheek, laughing in your ear at your pleas. “Damn, already? Just a needy thing.”

He begins to slow down his thrusts until he pulls his cock out of you, earning a whine of protest. He then swirls you around and picks you up, his hands under your ass as your legs and arms wrap around his body. “I’ve gotchu, sweetie. You just hang on, okay?”

You nod, giving him the sweetest smile that makes him want to kiss you stupid and cum all over your face all at the same time. He shares a passionate kiss with you as he sits you down on the car hood and proceeds to give you long, deep, slow strokes that steal your breath away.

The way you grip his shoulders and stare deep into his eyes makes Eren fuck you faster until finally, you're bouncing on his cock once more. Only this time, he gets a great view of your pretty titties and gorgeous face. “Oh, fuck, oh, oh, oh!” At this point, you’re a singing canary for him, loud and proud.

Eren loves every moment of it. He loves it when you get so lost in the pleasure that your pretty, brown eyes fill with tears and you allow him to spread your thighs wide so he can get his cock deeper inside of you. “God, look at you,” he groans. “How are you this fine? This fuckin’ pretty?"

So enchanted by you, your messy hair, and your glassy eyes, he brings you in for a sloppy tongue kiss where your moans are shared and you gently suck on his tongue, making him want to bust. No other woman has been able to arouse him as much as you do.

He would die for you. He would kill for you. He doesn't care which. Anyone that lays a hand on his baby will feel his wrath, including that stupid creep at your job.

When you pull away, you gasp and he feels your pussy clench around him. “Eren,” you sob. He smirks at you, keeping up the same perfect pace as you begin to frantically rub your clit, desperate to cum. “Yes, baby? What’s up? You wanna cum?”

“Mmm-hmm!” you pitifully hum, nodding as fast as a bobblehead. Eren grips your throat, tightening his fingers around your neck just the way you like. “Then keep sayin’ my name. Tell me who the fuck you belong to and you’d better mean it.”

Faster. Harder. Rougher. He fucks you until you are shouting, your voice echoing throughout the empty lot, giving everyone and anyone a listen to the good sex and dick you're getting right now. “You!” you shout. “You, you, Daddy, always you! Fuck, Eren, m’close!”

Eren grunts at the feeling of your cunt tightening around him, squeezing and stroking his nut out of him. “Me too,” he groans. “Cum with me right now. Give it to me, baby. Fuck, I love you so much.”

His face nuzzles yours, your nose brushing against each other's, lips barely touching. “I love you too,” you gasp before his lips cover yours. The two of you kiss and kiss and kiss as Eren fucks and fucks and fucks you until finally-

“Fuck!” Eren groans as his orgasm draws every ounce of cum out of his shaft. He tightly grips you to him as he unloads his spunk into your quivering pussy as you cum all around his cock, adorable moans and sweet whimpers escaping you as your orgasm takes you sky high. Eren can feel your mixed cum dripping down to his balls, soaking them. Maybe he'll let you suck it all off at home.

But for now, he needs to tend to you. After his aftershocks subside and you have tightly embraced each other for some time, he finally pulls away to look into your eyes. “You good, mama?” he pants. You give him a dazzling, joyful smile, an afterglow glazing your skin and face. “Yeah,” you giggle. “I’m perfect, Daddy.”

‘I know you are,' is all Eren thinks.

When you tight your inner thighs around him, keeping him there, he laughs. "Y'know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you like the way I handle shit." He presses a kiss to your forehead, his fingers gliding along your sweat-soaked skin.

"I do," you giggle, nuzzling his neck. "I'm sorry about earlier. I hate it when we fight." He gently shushes you, stroking your hair. "M'sorry, too. I just love you too much."

"I love you too, Ren," you whisper. "You're the only one for me."

Words cannot express how happy that makes your boyfriend...and also how horny it makes him too. You squeal when you feel his cock throb inside of you, signaling his returned arousal. "Eren!" you gasp.

He shrugs, giving you a smirk. "What? You turn me on, you know that." He possessively grips your ass, pawing at the soft globe. "You up for another round?"

Your eyes swish from right to left, obviously nervous but an excited smile appears on your lips. "Out here?" you whisper.

Eren raises an eyebrow of interest at you and your freakiness. "I meant back at home...but if you want it out here, we can do that too. I could even take you on a ride on my motorcycle and do you there. I like this freaky side of you."

He presses a kiss to your neck, earning a moan as he begins to roll his hips against you, once again stimulating your sensitive pussy. "Only a real man can handle that," he chuckles. "That asshole wouldn't know what to do with you. And not to body shame, but his dick is fuckin' ugly."

"Shut up," you groan.

"Just sayin'."

THE END.

#black fanfic writer #smutty smut #my works #black coded reader #black writers #attack on titan smut #aot smut #eren jaeger smut #eren x reader #eren x black y/n #eren x black fem!reader #eren yeager #eren jaeger #eren jeager smut #plug eren x black reader

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socialobligation · 3 months ago

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schedule disruption: you

you and izuku midoriya have been best friends forever. he's busy, responsible, always on schedule—you're not. but when your night goes sideways, he drops everything to come get you. you say something you might not remember. he hopes you do.

the music inside is muffled now—blurry thudding base pressed against the walls like it's trying to escape. your phone glows in your palm for a few seconds longer, until izuku’s "i'm on my way" disappears. you blink, feel the chill air wrap around your shoulders, and finally set it down beside you on the grass.

the night air is cool against your skin, a little too cool for how flushed your face feels. you're barefoot, or at least... one shoe is definitely missing. whatever. it's fine.

you curl your arms around your knees and squint up at the stars, counting exactly none of them.

the front door opens behind you with a roar of noise and then shuts again. laughter spills out into the dark for a second, but it doesn't reach you. you sit there in a haze, cheek pressed against your arm, blinking slow. everything feels floaty. you're starting to regret that last drink.

when the familiar black car pulls up to the curb, headlights washing over the lawn, you sigh in relief. izuku parks in a weirdly straight line, like even now he needs to make sure he's perfectly aligned with the sidewalk. of course he does.

he's out of the car in a second, jogging around to you. "y/n?"

you lift your head and wave weakly, "heyyy, 'zuku."

he exhales through his nose, crouching diown. "are you okay?"

"mhm," you hum, then after a beat, "no."

he doesn't ask anything else. he helps you up with one arm around your shoulders, leading you gently to the car, careful not to rush you.

"you smell like cheap tequila and regret," he says as he buckles your seatbelt for you.

"mmm. that's just perfect."

the drive to your dorm is quiet at first—until it's not.

"izuuukuuu," you sing, dragging out the vowels.

he glances at you, just long enough to check you haven't somehow turned into a puddle in his passenger seat. "yeah?"

"do you think that if trees could talk," you say, eyes glazed and face pressed against the window, "they'd be mad at us for always carving initials into them? like. what if that was their face?"

"...what?"

"like—what if—what if it's like if i just came up to you and went '<3 Y/N + I.M.' right across your cheek with a knife."

he blinks hard, struggling not to laugh. "okay. maybe no more frat parties for you."

"you're not even listening to the message, izuku," you pout.

"i think you should write a thesis on it. present it to the botany department."

"you're making fun of me," you say dramatically, eyes fluttering closed. "wow. and to think, i was gonna marry you."

he almost swerves. "what?"

"hmm?"

"...nevermind."

when he pulls up to your dorm and puts the car in park, you frown.

"shit," you mutter, blinking hard. "i don't have my key."

he turns to look at you. "what?"

"my roommates brought me. they were gonna unlock it when i got back. i didn't... i didn't think i'd need mine."

he lets his head fall back against the headrest, then sighs.

"...okay. you're coming back with me."

by the time you get to his apartment, you're half-asleep and still clinging to his arm like gravity doesn't apply to you anymore.

"okay, come on," he murmurs, locking his car and adjusting his grip around your waist. "let's get you inside."

the walk to his building is slow. you trip on the curb and immediately latch onto him with both arms, face smushed against his shoulder.

"you smell nice," you whisper.

"that's—thank you," he says, trying to breathe through it.

he unlocks his door, nudges it open with his foot, and guides you in gently.

you kick kick off your lone shoe and immediately make a beeline for his bed, flopping face-first into the mattress. he sighs and tugs a blanket over you, tossing you a hoodie too—just in case.

he exits the bedroom and returns a few minutes later with a bottle of water, aspirin, and a small trash bin.

you've turned onto your side, face buried into his pillow.

"y/n," he says softly, kneeling beside the bed, "can you sit up for a second?"

"mm. no."

"i brought you water."

"...fine. if you insist," you grumble, lifting yourself up with all the grace of a wet noodle.

he hands you the bottle and the pills. you down them obediently.

then, after a long pause: "you're too nice to me."

"someone has to be," he replies, tucking the blanket around you. "your decision-making tonight was... not ideal."

"hey."

"you were drunk. by yourself. with nobody around that you knew."

you frown, suddenly more awake. "okay, well—sorry my friends ditched me? that's not my fault."

he sighs, eyes soft. "i know. i'm not blaming you."

you grumble something incoherent and flop dramatically onto your side. "felt like you were."

"wasn't," he says gently. "just... worried."

you peek up at him, eyes squinted. "...i guess that's allowed."

"thanks for the permission," he says, and you swear you hear the tiniest smile in his voice.

he starts to stand, but your hand catches his wrist.

"hey, izuku?" he pauses, looking back at you.

you blink slowly. "you're my favorite person. like ever."

his eyes widen a little. he swallows. "...y/n—"

"'s true. dunno when it happened but i love you."

he blinks.

you blink.

"...what?" "i love you," you repeat, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "kinda figured you knew that already."

his mouth opens. nothing comes out.

it's not the first time you've told him that.

you've said it before, offhandedly—over childhood goodbyes, late-night calls, after especially rough days. but something aboiut the way you say it now is different.

it doesn't sound like a best friend.

it sounds like everything else.

"i mean," you continue, voice soft and sleepy," why else would i always call you first? or wait for you to text back before i do anything. or remember your whole ass schedule even though i don't even know mine."

he looks like he's buffering. you broke izuku midoriya.

which means the only plausible thing to do here is keep going.

"oh," you add suddenly, "and you're, like, insanely hot. in a shy, rule-following, chronic overachiever kinda way."

"y/n."

"what?"

"you're drunk."

"yeah," you agree, "but i'm also right."

he laughs under his breath, eyes warm even in the dim light. and then, gently:

"yeah. i... love you too."

your eyes widen just slightly, and he adds, a little quieter, "i just want you to say it again when you mean it sober. so i can believe it's real."

you grin, eyes fluttering shut. "i'll tell you first thing in the morning, then."

he lingers there a second longer, like he's about to say something else—but he doesn't.

just pulls the blanket over your shoulder a little higher.

and softly, almost too softly: "okay. morning, then."

he turns off the light and closes the door behind him.

#mha #myhero #my hero academia #bnha #boku no hero #boku no hero academia #izuku #midoriya #izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #mha smau #mha fic #mha fluff #mha fanfiction #izuku x reader #mha x reader #midoriya x reader #socialobligation

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suiana · 11 months ago

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(NO HATE TO ANY VIETNAMESE FOLLOWERS! I DO NOT MEAN HARM WITH THIS! ALSO TEXT IS FROM GOOGLE TRANSLATE! I AM DEEPLY SORRY IF THE TRANSLATION IS INCORRECT!)

BUT imagine yandere! vietnamese roommate...

what if u get a Vietnamese roommate right, but u dont know Vietnamese n he doesn't know english. so u ask him something in english n he responds in vietnamese.

"hey dude wanna get dinner?"

"Tôi thèm khát bạo lực, bạn cùng phòng"

"ok so where r we eating tonight?"

this makes it hard to communicate so you end up learning vietnamese to surprise him. meanwhile you've been teaching him some english so you two could try and speak to one another.

what you didn't expect was for you to finally understand all the filthy things he says in vietnamese??? what the hell was he talking about?? going on about making you his and wanting you to only notice him??

you don't confront him on this though. yeah, he's probably just joking.

until the day of his birthday and before he blows out the candles he makes his wish for you to be his. that's when you've had enough and decide to confront him. this simply cannot continue.

"Cái quái gì thế? Cậu thích tớ à?"

"Ừ- cái gì? Bạn nói được tiếng Việt à?"

an uncomfortable sipence washes over the two of you, with him in the middle of blowing out his candle and you holding the knife for the cake cutting.

you expect him to blush, to immediately refute the statement of liking you. but what happens next is shocking.

he instead looks more in love??? his eyes are dilated, cheeks a heavy red as he suddenly grabs your hand tightly in his. what?? you step back in shock, staring at him as you try pulling your hand away.

only to realise he wasn't intent on letting go.

no, not when you finally understand that he's wanted you. not when you finally realize how good you two are together. not now, not ever. and that's the way it's going to be.

#yandere #tw yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere concepts #yandere vietnamese roommate #yandere vietnamese roommate x reader #gn reader #suiana brainrotting #suiana rambling

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sexy-monster-fucker · 11 months ago

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Tattered

Logan Howlett/Wolverine x Mutant!Reader

Summary: Reader, Wade, and Logan decide to go out in the nearby woods to do some casual training. Once Logan and the Reader get to fight, things get heated and escalate. (Reader has a regenerative power as well)

CW: fighting, stabbing, blood, jealous!Logan, Wade being Wade, choking, biting, fingering, oral f!receiving, unprotected p in v, creampie,

a/n: this is my first time writing for Logan. I am hella excited. Reader has a regenerative power along with super strength and nails that turn into razor sharp claws. Also sorry I don’t proof read, so grammar mistakes I’m sure

~~~

“Fuck— I don’t remember you being this strong!” Wade Wilson, a close friend and teammate of yours, coughed out. You had decided to do some casual training in the nearby woods, giving you all full access to throw down to your full abilities. You pinned him down with your hips, pulling a small knife from your holster. Hovering it above his groin. “Say uncle or you’re gonna be growing Wade Jr. back,” you grinned.

Wade gasped, “Baby Knife? You wouldn’t—“

You began pressing your knife into his pants, breaking the fabric as you inched closer to his favorite asset. “Okay- Okay! Jesus Christ and Mary— UNCLE! There I said it,” Wade held his hands up in between you showing mercy.

A deep chuckle was heard behind you.

Logan Howlett, The Wolverine, stood behind leaned against a tree. Watching as you and Wade fought back and forth for the last thirty minutes. You had taken a liking to Wade’s new roommate. Gruff and stubborn in nature, distant and aloof, but somehow still alluring.

You rolled off Wade, standing and wiping the dirt off your clothes. “When I said I wanted you in my pants, that wasn’t what I had in mind,” Wade stood up behind you. You threw the knife into his thigh, pulling a disapproving groan of agony from him. Silent curse words pouring from his mouth as he pulled the knife out, “I’m keeping this.”

“If you two are done flirting, I think it’s my turn to fight,” Logan smirked at you. He was incredibly handsome. Ever since Wade had came back from the Void with Logan, you had been infatuated. His dark hair, deep voice, everything about him was admirable. Especially right now as you watched him remove his flannel, sporting a white tank top underneath. The veins on his arms popped against the strong muscle. You felt your cheeks heat up.

“Aren’t you a little old to be fighting someone?” You teased as the new 200-year-old from another universe stood before you.

“Oh no, no, no. Me and this guy went at it all night the first time we met,” Wade chimed in. Logan gritted his teeth at him, warning him to watch what he says next.

“All night you say? Sounds like my kind of party,” you stretched your body, preparing to face off with the new guy. You watched Logan roll and pop his neck, stretching out his arms. Admiring his muscular physique.

“He’s got the stamina of a college freshman wired on Redbull and pure sex drive,” Wade patted Logan on the shoulder. Logan held up a fist to Wade’s face, claws extending mere inches from his eyes. “Shut the fuck up. You had your chance to fight, now leave,” he growled at Wade. Wade stomped his foot like a toddler, whining as he spoke, “Whaaaat!? No fair! You got to watch me fight Sexy Mutant Mamma, why don’t I get to watch the two hottest people in our building go at it!” You chuckled at his minor temper tantrum.

“Because you make everything weird! Now get outta here,” Logan held his claws under Wade’s chin pulling a small drop of blood from him. Wade spun on his heal, fists bundled up at his sides as he stomped away into the woods. Grumbling the entire way, “Not fucking fair. Wanted to see their clothes ripped off. Fucking fuck…”

You placed your hands on your hips, standing straight and firm before Logan. “So are we gonna do this or—“ Logan lunged forward at you, catching you off guard slightly. “Holy shit—“ you jumped before he could tackle you to the ground with his first attack. He dug his claws into the ground as he spun around to face where you were now. You opted out of grabbing one of your weapons. Deciding to go in with brute strength instead. You ran towards Logan, fist pulled back preparing to punch him. He grabbed your hand mid punch, twisting your arm. You kicked a leg up hitting him in the ribs. Logan’s claws extended, stabbing you in forearm. You widened your eyes at the three blades puncturing your skin, glaring up at him. You scratched up at him with your razor sharp nails, gashing his tank top and skin. He chuckled out, looking at his blood momentarily. You pushed him away, pulling his blades from your arm.

Your jaw hung open as you stared at him. A shit eating grin on his face. “Wade may be scared of you, but I’m not. I will kick your geriatric ASS,” you dove toward him, cutting at his legs with your hands. Ripping and tearing his jeans as you slashed at his flesh. Logan growled in pain before stabbing you in the back and picking you up over his head. Throwing you onto the ground. You were quick to hop back up to your feet. You caught your breath shaking off the pain you felt. Writhing slightly.

You darted back over to him, kicking at his leg causing him to fall to his knee. You then jumped and kicked him with both feet, throwing him onto his back. “Fuck!” He cursed at you. You climbed on top of him, straddling his waist as you began punching him. You watched as his nose broke just to heal right in front of you. A cocky grin written on your face as Logan’s eyes stared into yours. Almost as if he was enjoying you on top of him. His arm flexed as he stabbed his claws into your thigh. You bared your teeth at him screaming in pain, “Motherfucker!” He lifted his other fist, releasing the claws right in front of your nose. “I’d hate to mess up that pretty face of yours, doll,” he teased. Your cheeks grew hot with embarrassment. Unable to deny how quickly his pet name went to your core. He slashed his claws down your chest, ripping your shirt.

You crawled off him, attempting to get away. “If you wanted to see my boobs that bad you could’ve just asked!” you playfully called back to him. He chased after you on all fours. You threw one of your small knives into his shoulder attempting to slow him down. He grabbed you by the ankle. Falling forward and smashing your jaw into the dirt. You tussled with him, kicking and swatting with claws. Cutting up his arms and shoulders as he tried to pull you back. Bruising strength as his fingers dug into your skin. His eyes were black as he stared at you, a lustful grin on his lips. He jumped forward pinning your body underneath his.

You shared in your panting. His claws dug into the dirt beside your head, the necklace he wore dangling in your face. Sweat beamed on both your bodies. Both of you bearing your teeth at each other. Your panting mouth slowly morphing into a grin, throwing your head back against the dirt stretching out your neck with a sigh. He cocked an eyebrow at you, your eyes darting back to meet his. He leaned down planting a feverish kiss on your lips. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you deepened it. He pulled his claws from the dirt, wrapping his arms around your back and pulling your fronts flush. Sloppy kisses being exchanged between you, teeth clanking together.

Logan leaned back on his knees, holding you in his arms. “You sure do know how to fight, doll,” he cooed as his eyes stared at your chest. “Yeah? You ain’t too bad for a 200-year-old geezer,” you smirked. Logan grinned, raising an eyebrow at your mockery. One of his hands wrapped around your neck, squeezing at it as pushed you back slightly, “You and Wade sure do have one thing in common. Never knowing how to shut your fucking mouths.” You gasped with his hand on your jugular, smiling widely at him. “I definitely like your mouth a lot better,” he leaned in planting a kiss on your lips. Releasing his grip and pushing your hair out of your face. You caught your breath, hooded eyes staring into his hazel ones. His fingers petted through your hair, “Couldn’t stand to see you on top of him like that. Him having his little fucking hands on you.”

You had no idea Logan had felt this way about you. Sure there was flirting, but that was in your nature. You flirted with everyone, you assumed Logan was playing along. Catching him staring at you from time to time. Him lingering in your doorway before you headed into your apartment. Occasional pet names.

“Ooo, Mr. Jealousy,” you teased. He smirked above you. Leaning down and pressing his lips to your throat, sharp canines grazing as he lapped and sucked your skin. You tangled one of your hands in his hair, holding his head in place as he kissed your skin. Gentle moans falling from your lips. His lips trailed to your ear, “Sounds so pretty.” He pulled your lobe between his teeth. He had marked up your entire neck with hickeys and bite marks.

“Gotta make sure when we get back, Fucko knows to keep his hands off you,” Logan purred in your ear. Every inch of your skin was red hot. Arousal decorating your senses as you stared at the man before you. His hardening cock pressing into you through his jeans. You ran your hands down his chest, pulling a softness from him you had not yet seen. Hooking your fingers under his tattered shirt, lifting it over his head and leaving his chest exposed. Glistening torso with some of the firmest abs you had ever seen, hair on every inch. Admiring his body, fingers dancing delicately on the hair on him. Trailing down to his v-line, fingertips finding the cold metal of his large belt buckle.

Logan pulled your lips to his, kissing you like a touch starved man. Hunger painting his movements, teeth grazing your lip. His fingers tangled in your hair holding you so that your lips would not leave his. One hand ghosting down your side, going up under your shirt. Loving how your soft skin contrasted his corse fingers. Finding their place on your breasts, massaging them with his large hands. Pinching at the thin material of your bra, feeling your hardening nipples. You moaned into his mouth with his touch.

Your lips moved down to his neck, nipping at his flesh. Pulling a deep chuckle from him. A soft moan fell from his lips as yours worked down to his clavicle. His hand guided your chin upward, pulling your lips back to his. Fingers finding the button on your pants, undoing them and placing his hand down the front. Fingers massaging your lips, feeling your arousal glisten on his fingers. “Mmm, you’re so wet, baby doll,” he grinned widely. Your body rutted when he dipped his fingers into you. His name a moan from your throat. Thick fingers curled and massaged your insides, his thumb circling your clit.

You dug your fingers into his back as he continued edging you closer and closer. The tips of your claws penetrating his skin, a wince falling from him. “Easy, sweetheart,” Logan cooed. You mumbled sorry, focusing to retract your claws. One of your hands found its way to his bulge. Palming at his hard cock. Logan moaned at your touch, eyes black with lust as his heavy brow stared at you. You smirked, still a complete mess with his fingers inside you. You tugged at the waist of his pants. Pulling a smile from him.

“You wanna see my cock that bad?”

Electricity flooded every inch of your body with his words. “If I say yes will you fuck me?” You smirked at him. A wide grin painted his face. Raising an eyebrow with your words, leaning in to plant a kiss on you. “Mouth,” he jokingly called you between kisses.

Abruptly pulling his hand from your core and pushing you onto your back. You huffed when you hit the hard dirt. Eyes widening at him. Large hands finding the waist of your pants, pulling them down your legs. Ripping your panties off with them leaving your soaked core bare to the air. Legs shaking with anticipation for him. Logan stared at your core, tongue darting out to wet his lips at the sight. Unable to control himself, delving down and immediately flattening his tongue against your core. You arched your back at the sudden sensation. Grinding your hips against his tongue. Lapping at your entrance like it was his last meal.

Climax building its way through every inch of you as his tongue pressed into you. Heavy fingers digging into your thighs. Deep hazel eyes looking up at you from your hips. The look of him pushing you over the edge. Orgasm washing over you. Your body convulsing and heaving as waves of ecstasy engulfed you. Shouting Logan’s name to the sky.

“There ya go, good girl,” Logan encouraged pulling away from your sensitive opening. You leaned your head back, squinting your eyes shut as waves of aftershock washed over you. The sound of a belt buckle hitting the ground pulling your attention back to him. And what a sight it was. Logan’s large cock curved upward right in front of you. A large vein popping out on the underside, the tip swollen and red and leaking with pre-cum, a bundle of hair decorating the area around it. A mouth watering image.

Logan snickered seeing you slack jawed staring at him. Fucking him with your eyes. Hands finding their place on the ground next to either side of your head, cock pressing at your entrance. All that was left of his clothes was that damn necklace. Chain dangling in your face as you admired the handsome, sweat soaked man.

Large hand positioning himself at your entrance, head delving into your walls slightly. Pulling a moan from you. Swirling the tip around causing your body to quiver, pussy still sensitive from your prior orgasm. Even just the tip stretched you as he pressed into you slowly. Soft groans falling from you.

“C‘Mon, I know you can take it,” Logan purred easing himself into you. You squinted your eyes as his cock begged to pry you open. The girth making you fear he’d rip you open. Fully sheathing himself inside your tight walls. His face contorting in absolute pleasure. Adjusting around his girth, thick cock stretching you perfectly. Logan eased his way back before thrusting back in. With each snap of his hips you moaned. Finding a fast pace in you, panting heavy above you.

You leaned forward placing your lips back to his. Tongues exploring each other’s mouths. Exchanging spit as you licked into each other. Teeth hitting as you deepened the kiss. Hands exploring up his chest, dancing up his toned body. Resting on his cheeks. Lust filled eyes staring into each other as he continued inside you. Slack jawed and breathing heavy.

“Perfect pussy,” Logan growled above you. Thumbs caressing his cheeks. A knot building up inside you that begged to come undone around his large cock. Feeling your walls constrict around him as he thrusted. Each movement pushing you closer to the edge.

“Gonna fill you up, doll. Gonna be so full of me,” Logan panted into your ear. His back straightened as one of his hands found its place on your throat. A minor squeeze of flesh between rough fingers. Eyes rolling back into your head as you felt yourself preparing to finish. Thrusts grew sloppy and harsh, sounds of skin smacking together filled the air. Balls smacking into you with each heavy movement. His name spilled from you as you climaxed around him. Logan moaned loudly feeling how you squeezed him. Milking his cum from him. Shooting hot ropes of himself inside you. Hips rutting as he filled you full of his seed.

He remained inside you, feeling the way your pussy still wrapped around him. Occasional squeeze of walls from aftershock. Feeling him go soft inside you. Both of you wincing at the loss of sensation when he pulled out. Catching your breath as Logan helped with your pants. You sat up, admiring him as he got dressed. Logan looked over his shoulder, grinning as he caught you staring. Extending a hand to you and helping you to your feet, pulling you flush against his chest. Hand petting your hair as he leaned in and gave you a kiss. Silently smiling back and forth.

“So who won?” You joked. Logan rolled his eyes, “Don’t push your luck, doll.” You giggled at his response. Logan wrapped an arm around you as you both headed out of the woods. Loving the warmth of his body next to yours.

“Next time I won’t be leaving,” Wade’s cocky grin met you between the trees. Logan gritted his teeth. He stood with both hands on his hips watching the two of you walk toward him in your ripped and blood stained clothes. “Sounded like you guys were really going at it on the ground there. Sounded just like when I’d catch mommy and daddy having their weekly wrestling matches,” Wade raised his eyebrows. Your eyes darted up at his. Wade caught sight of the purple marks on your neck, laughing. “I didn’t know X-Men training gave you bruises on your neck too!” Wade cackled to himself. Wiping a fake tear from his eye as he sucked in a breath. “When’s it my turn for that kind of training, Y/N?”

You both ignored him, walking past him. You gave a good punch to his stomach, knocking the breath out of him. Wade hunched over coughing. Logan leaned down whispering in Wade’s ear, “Jealousy looks good on you, bub.” Dropping a heavy elbow onto his head knocking him to the ground.

Logan hurried his steps to catch up with you, walking beside you as you headed out of the forest. Exchanging smiles as you walked home together.

~~~

[END]

// Thank you so much for reading! I really love the response people had to the idea of this Fic so I’m more than happy to write it! If anyone has requests for Logan or any other characters, send them my way! If you are interested in being tagged in any future Fics, let me know! //

[tags]

@toogaytofunctiondangit ~ @megangovier ~ @darklover06 ~ @castle-of-ruin ~ @akumazwrld ~ @ravenn-darkholme ~ @laweona510 ~ @ivyinthesun ~ @eddiesguitarskills ~ @amandarobertsboyce ~ @urmom02 ~ @ilove-sexydilfsnmilfs ~ @yesi22 ~ @orangehairedbrat ~ @l0sercat ~ @introvertreader20 ~ @shoxji ~ @gingerplague ~ @porflenet

#wolverine #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool #hugh jackman #hugh jackman x reader #mcu #marvel #x men #writing #fanfic #sexymonsterfics

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lemonpeppermintstickshift · 1 month ago

Text

living together - f. langdon x fem!reader

summary: after his divorce, frank becomes your new roommate, and it becomes increasingly more difficult for you to not give into temptation.

warnings: SMUT (minors dni, 18+ only), porn with plot, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), frank has NO kids, p in v, creampie (seriously, use some rubber), fingering, use of 'frankie', frank eats pussy! slight dirty talk, botched medical terminology (i'm not a doctor </3), no use of y/n but the use of 'baby', my first fic :)

wc: 4k

After his divorce, Frank was in desperate need of a place to stay.

Lucky for him, your asshole ex-boyfriend had vacated his position, not only in your heart but in your 2 bed 1 bath apartment as well. At the time, it seemed like the right thing to do. Frank needed a room, you needed half of your rent—it was perfect. If Whitaker and Santos could do it, so could you two.

What you forgot to think about, what slipped your mind as Frank moved in his few boxes of miscellaneous things, his coffee mugs and books from college, was that you would be living together. Living together as in sharing meals, as in getting used to him using half of the refrigerator for his red bulls, as in watching him come out of your shared bathroom, towel slung low around his hips, his chest hair leading down his abdomen to an even lower area you did not allow yourself to think about.

Recently, it’s become harder and harder to ignore how handsome Langdon is. You always knew he was attractive, Garcia doesn’t call him ER Ken for nothing. But it wasn’t until you two began living with each other that it posed such a problem. You’re not sure when it started, but somehow the two of you began playing some sick game. How far can we go before we go too far?

It started off as an accident, truly. While transporting your load of laundry, you dropped a pair of rather nice panties in the living room, not even realizing your mistake. Later on, when you returned from dinner with a friend, it was all Frank could do to not torment you about it.

“Forget something?” Frank says as you lock the door behind you, kicking off your shoes and setting down your keys.

“What? I just came back fro–”

Frank holds up the rather scandalous pair of panties with a finger, dangling it towards you.

“Forgot to put these on before you left?” He says, his blue eyes shining. “Must’ve been a lucky guy.”

Since then, the two of you have been playing this game of cat and mouse. Frank comes back from his occasional runs shirtless and sweaty, gulping down a glass of water as condensation runs down his hand. You wear short shorts around the house, feeling them bunch up around your ass as you read your newest book on the couch, not missing the way Langdon’s eyes linger on your thighs.

Your relationship consists of emergency intubations, low cut shirts that show off your cleavage, bedside cricothyrotomies, and Frank’s grey sweatpants he wears after a shift that leave your palms sweaty and your cheeks flushed.

Today is no different.

You look around the Pitt as your shift nears the end. You have no more than an hour to go before you're slipping off your scrubs, driving home, and taking the hottest shower of your life. You talk to Samira aimlessly as your eyes scan the ER’s TV screen, looking for something not too heavy before you begin to pack up.

Your eyes land on one Mr. Mitchell Providence, and it isn’t long before he’s sitting on a bed in a room, smiling painfully as you pull up a stool.

“So, let me get this right, your toddler accidentally stabbed you in the back of your thigh?” You ask, motioning him to flip over to his side so you have better access to his makeshift bandage.

“Was trying to impress the wife,” he wheezes as you begin to remove the towel from his wound. “Turned around for one minute to stir the pot, next thing I know I’m getting poked with a knife! I’m just glad no one else got hurt.”

You nod, trying not to laugh in front of the patient. You distract yourself by making polite small chatter and inquiring about his pain levels, making sure to correctly assess the wound and his history before you begin stitching. Just as you begin to pick up your needle, a familiar face slides back the curtain, inviting himself in.

“Heard you were back here. Wanted to help finish this up and send Mister…” Frank checks the sheet, “Providence out here as fast as possible.”

Your back stiffens at the sound of his voice. Your mind flashes to the stunt Frank pulled this morning.

Langdon drags the silver spoon from his mouth slowly. He stands in the kitchen, eating berries and yogurt before the two of you head out for your shift. He licks the last bit of cream off the utensil, coating his lips in saliva before setting it in the sink. Your eyes follow his pink tongue as it darts out, dabbing at the sides of his mouth.

“It’s really good. Sure you don’t want any?”

You shake your head, trying to physically remove the memory from your consciousness.

“Mr. Providence, this is Dr. Langdon. He’s my senior resident, so he’ll be watching over this procedure.” You smile.

“Sounds good. But, are you… do you know how to do this?” The man questions. Of course he’s nervous, anyone would be. But before you can answer, Langdon’s hand finds a way to your shoulder.

“Oh absolutely, she’s one of our best residents here.” He says with a proud nod, his fingers curling around your scrubs. The touch catches you off guard, your breath hitching in your throat.

He gives your shoulder one final squeeze before letting go, giving his million dollar 100% patient satisfaction smile. Finally, he takes a slight step back, just enough so he can watch you perform the procedure.

You feel him analyzing your every move. The way your hands stay steady as they wield the needle, your lack of reaction to the slightly gory sight before you, your breath as it never falters.

You’re almost finished when Frank takes your hand in his, guiding you through his own action.

“For subcuticular stitches, you’ll need to cut the suture flush with the skin, just like that…” He speaks softly, allowing you both to move in sync. From here, you can smell his shampoo, hear his breath in between directions. You try and focus on the task at hand, but it becomes increasingly more difficult as your eyes trail down his toned forearms.

As soon as the final stitch is secure, you practically leap away from him. You stand quiet in the corner, shaken up as Frank explains the correct care for the next few days, telling the patient to stay put for a while and that a nurse will come in and assess him before discharging.

You spin on your heels as soon as Frank finishes his directions. You need to get away from him.

Motherfucker, you think. He’s trying to throw you off your game. You’re used to him playing tricks at home, but at the Pitt? This was territory you’ve never breached before.

You pack up in a frustrated haze, forgetting that you and Frank carpooled together, because once again, that's what living together means.

You wait outside for him, enjoying the refreshing air the night presents. You hear the doors automatically slide open behind you, and without looking, you know it's him.

“Ready?” He asks, a certain look on his face.

“Always.”

The drive home is silent. Some pop song plays in the background as you drive, falling on deaf ears as you occasionally catch a glimpse of Frank out of the corner of your eye. He stares out the passenger window the entire time. You wonder what he’s thinking of.

When you get home, the two of you claw off your bags, badges, and rub your hands down your face, trying to shake off the long day. You head to the kitchen, grabbing some leftovers to quickly shove down your throat before you take a shower.

“Ladies first,” you say, mouth stuffed with fried rice, motioning towards the bathroom.

“Don’t mind if I do,” he replies, winking. You roll your eyes. Goddamn flirt.

You stand in the kitchen as Langdon enters the bathroom, and seconds later you hear the faint sound of running water. Once you're sure he’s in the shower, you finally let yourself melt, thinking about the contents of the day.

Your mind turns over your breakfast encounter, your stitching lessons, all the times Frank has bent over your shoulder and whispered something in your ear, repeating it all like a broken record.

A shiver goes down your back and you groan. He’s getting to you.

You’re not sure how long it is you stand in the kitchen, contemplating your life's decisions. You don’t look up when the bathroom door opens. You’re not sure what will happen if you do. You feel yourself grow closer and closer to snapping, to doing something that can’t be undone.

You suppress these feelings as you shuffle to your room, grabbing an old shirt, some socks, and a pair of panties before heading to the shower. You’re on autopilot, going through the motions of washing the day off of you. You stay in your head, suds sliding down your body as you think of Langdon.

He’s still on your mind 15 minutes later when he corners you in front of the bathroom.

“What’s up with you?” He inquires. You gulp. He’s shirtless, wearing pajama pants as he leans against the wall, and it takes everything in you not to notice the way his biceps slightly flex.

“It’s nothing, Langdon, I’m just exhausted. Long ass day.”

“Langdon? Since when do you call me Langdon at home?”

You ignore him. You brush past his body, heading for the living room, attempting to busy yourself by tidying up the blankets and pillows. Suddenly, you’re very aware you’re wearing no pants.

“Okay, seriously. You’re freaking me out. Did I do something?”

You turn around in frustration, biting the insides of your cheek out of instinct. Frank looks at you with genuine confusion in his eyes, and it annoys you that he doesn’t understand the gravity of his actions—especially the way they make you feel.

“Hm, I don’t know, Langdon. What didn't you do today?” You snap back. His eyebrows skyrocket to his forehead, you’re clearly not reacting in a way he’s expecting.

“Are you seriously mad about the breakfast thing?” He says, inching closer, a regretful look plastered on his face. “You know I was just teasing.”

“The breakfast thing, the random stitching guidance, your goddamn sweatpants,” you growl, “You’re always teasing me. What are you playing at?”

“Me? What about you?” He tosses back, taking another step. “Your tight shirts, your new perfume, your shorts, Jesus—”

He runs his fingers through his damp hair, messing it up slightly.

“What you pulled today, at work? Not cool. You can’t do that Frank.” You mumble. You feel yourself growing embarrassed about admitting to the way his words affect you.

“I wanted to make sure you were doing it right.”

“Bullshit,” you retort. “I know how to stitch a fucking wound.”

“Fine. I wanted… I just wanted to see you.” He confesses, tossing his hands up in defeat. This is becoming dangerous. You feel a sensation begin to bubble in the depths of your gut. “I wanted to know what you were doing.”

You match his energy, taking another step forward. At this point, the two of you are precariously close. You can see the darker blue of his irises, the crease in the middle of his forehead as his brows scrunch together.

“You were throwing me off my game,” you admit, looking away. “I felt like fucking Javadi.”

Frank doesn't respond to this. Instead, he takes one final step towards you, craning his face down to yours. You look up at him, eyes wide.

“Was I distracting you?” He whispers, his voice low and sultry.

“You know you were.”

He brings his hands to the sides of your face, cupping your flushed cheeks with his palms. His hands feel cool to the touch.

“What have we been doing?” He questions. “Do you want this? Because if not, I’ll stop with the teasing and we can pretend the past few weeks were a fluke. I swear I’ll let it go. But if not, fuck—I can’t do this much longer before you break me.”

His confession is raw, it hangs low in the air that heats up around you. The desperation in his voice causes your thighs to rub together, begging for some sort of friction.

“I…” You breathe out, scanning his face. He waits patiently, a hungry look in his eyes. His pupils are blown, his pink lips parted slightly as he breathes heavily. “Fuck it, just kiss me.”

Frank exhibits no hesitation as he grabs your face, smashing your lips together. His breath is fresh, tasting of spearmint toothpaste. You moan slightly as he slides his tongue into your mouth, pulling you impossibly closer. Your neck cranes up to him as his hands slide down your face to your sides, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your hands fly to his hair, grabbing fistfulls as his palms reach your waist, inching you closer to his core. When he pulls away, his face is slightly red, and you can feel his erection growing. The pressure makes your mouth water.

“Your room or mine?” He breathes.

“I don’t care,” you mumble through your kisses, unable to bear a second without his mouth on yours. His lips are soft, his skin is smooth, his body warm. You want to bottle him up and drink him.

Suddenly, Frank’s hands travel to the back of your thighs, hoisting you up on his hips as he begins walking towards his bedroom. From this angle, you can feel him hard through his pants. The friction makes you moan, and you feel your panties become damp.

Before you know it, your back lands on the soft surface of his mattress. Your white shirt clashes with the dark of his sheets, fingers sliding over the smooth fabric of his comforter. Frank lowers himself over you, one hand propping himself up as the other breaches the hem of your band-tee.

“Are you sure?” He asks. He looks at you with vulnerability in his eyes, and it makes your nipples harden.

“Yes. Please Frank,” you whisper back.

With your confirmation, he begins moving again. His fingers barely dance on the soft skin of your tummy, skirting towards your clavicle. He brings the shirt up, sliding it over your shoulders and aimlessly tossing it on the floor.

The cold air of his room causes goosebumps to litter your skin, making the hair on your arms stand up. You look away from the intensity of Frank’s gaze, embarrassed at your indecency. He dips his head to your neck, pressing soft kisses to your carotid artery. He laughs as he feels your heart rate spike.

He moves back to your face, kissing you softly as his hands cup your chest, making you whine.

He plays around with your nipples, pinching and twisting them softly. This, plus the heat of his cock through his pants pressed against your very thin underwear makes your legs spread wide.

Frank slips off his pajama pants, remaining only in his boxers as he begins sucking on your collar bones. Slowly but surely he moves his mouth down your body, taking your breasts in his warm mouth, swirling his tongue around your areolas. He slides his tongue down your torso, dragging you to the end of the bed as his face finally reaches in between your thighs.

He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your panties, and you’re positive you're wet enough that you’ve soaked through them.

He peels the piece of clothing off you, watching as the wet patch of your panties stick to your folds. Like the shirt, he tosses the garment off to the side, rendering it useless. He brings his fingers up to your core, slowly beginning to coat his digits in your slick. You gasp at the sensation.

He drags his long fingers up and down your folds, spreading your arousal all over your pussy. You preen to his touch, your chest rising and falling heavily. You feel your core tighten in anticipation.

Finally, he slowly starts to inch a finger inside you. When his palm comes flush with your entrance, he breathes out a ‘fuck.’

You barely catch your breath before you feel him begin to purposely drag his finger in and out. Your hand clutches his sheets, crumpling up the silk. When Frank inserts a second finger, you’re positive you’ve left the atmosphere. When he presses his tongue against your core, fingers working in tandem with his mouth, you see stars.

“Fuck, Frankie,” you whine, and he moans in response.

You feel his mouth move against you, his fingers curling and hitting a spot that makes your head fall back. He continues this until you can't take it, his tongue swirling and sucking against your clit until you cry out his name as your back arches, a wave of pleasure crashing through you. Your hands fly to his hair, trying to find some part of the earth to hold on to before you float away.

As you come back down from your high, your stomach and thighs that were once tense become slack, allowing Frank to pull away from you. He wipes his mouth off, his lips puffy and his forehead sweaty.

He pants slightly, just by looking at you. You become impatient, still not satisfied with the amount of his skin you’ve kissed, the muscles you haven’t touched. You pull him towards you, kissing him deeply and tasting yourself on his tongue.

He slots in between your thighs, pressing his brief-clad, brick hard cock against you. He begins to take off his underwear, then freezes. “Shit.”

“What?” You panic. Did you do something wrong? Does he not want this anymore?

“I don’t have a condom,” he groans. “I’m divorced and I never date.” His face flushes, and he scrunches his nose.

“Are you clean?” You ask.

“Did you hear what I just said?” He laughs, rubbing his hands up and down the insides of your thigh.

“Point taken…” You toss an idea back and forth in your mind. The way Frank is looking at you makes you want to melt. “I’m clean, and I’m on the pill.”

“Thank fuck.”

He makes quick work to take off his boxers, letting his hard cock free from its restraints. He hisses as the cool air meets his weeping tip.

He drags you closer to him, guiding your legs to slightly wrap around his hips. He lowers himself over you, using one hand to prop himself up and the other to tease your entrance with his member.

He drags his cock up and down your pussy, coating his tip in the mix of both your arousal. He taps your clit and laughs as you squeeze your eyes shut.

“Look at me,” he says. Your eyes flutter open, struggling to keep contact as he slowly pushes into you. He goes slow, calculated. He watches every reaction you have.

Your hands grip his shoulders tightly when he becomes flush with your pelvis. You throw your head back in pleasure. The stretch makes you delirious. You feel every inch of his blood filled cock, mewling as he begins to move his hips.

He leans back, allowing you to see his torso. Your eyes follow down his abs to where the two of your body's meet. The sight is racy, watching Frank slowly begin to push in and out of you.

Once Frank finds his rhythm, you’re sure he’s going to fuck you so hard into the mattress that you’ll be sore tomorrow. He grabs your ass with his free hand, pushing you towards him with every thrust. With this movement, his thick tip brushes up against the sweet spot in your walls, causing you to cry out.

“Yeah baby, just like that. Wanted to fuck you for so long.”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he continues to pummel into you, removing his hand from your ass to push down on your stomach. He fucks you like this for a while, deep and hard, occasionally moving his free hand to tease your clit.

He kisses your mouth, then begins to whisper his vulgar thoughts into your ear as you cream around his cock. He tells you how pretty you are, how tight your pussy is, how good you're doing. His words, in combination with his teasing and rhythm, brings you to the brink. Just when you think you’re about to finish again, he pulls out of you.

Before you can even form the thought to complain, he flips you around, wasting no time before he slides back into your tight walls. He grabs your hips and places a pillow underneath them. You know there’s no use in trying to brace yourself for the way he’s about to fuck you.

He takes one of his palms and presses on your back, pushing your body into the mattress, snapping his hips to your ass over and over. You cry out into the air, back arching. Your neighbors are going to hate you.

With each forceful thrust, your clit brushes up against the fabric of the pillow beneath you. It isn’t long before your core begins to tighten, and Frank can feel the way your pussy flutters around his cock.

“That’s right baby,” he coos, guiding you as your moans become more high pitched and frequent. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room. Your eyelids flutter as your second orgasm blooms inside of you.

He takes you from behind until you can’t take it anymore, words falling helplessly from your mouth as you beg him to slow down, speed up, please keep going, don’t stop.

When Frank feels himself coming close, his abdomen tightening and his pace quickening, he stops himself to flip you over again, this time basically laying on top of you.

“I’m not gonna last much longer, s’too good,” he slurs, looking into your eyes. “Where do you want me to finish?”

“Inside,” you gasp, “I don’t care, Frankie.”

“Oh fuck, you can’t just say shit like that baby.” You can tell he’s approaching the finish line fast, his thrusts becoming sloppy and his words becoming jumbled. He babbles praises into your ear and grunts louder than before. Finally, you hear him stutter and watch as he tosses his head back, pumping thick, hot ropes of his cum into your tight walls.

The two of you stay like that for a minute, breathing in the sex-scented air that wafts around his bedroom. You feel the weight of his body on yours, enjoying the warmth his flushed chest brings you.

“Holy fuck, you’re good.”

Frank chuckles as he pulls his softening dick from you. He crouches down to watch his cum drip down your legs, licking his lips as it pools beneath you.

He comes back up to press a chaste kiss to your lips, mumbling let’s get you cleaned up. For the rest of the night, Frank attends to your every need, making sure you’re properly taken care of before the two of you eventually fall back into his sheets, clinging together for warmth. You fall asleep in his arms, your hands playing with his wild hair.

“What happened to you?” Samira asks, two hours into your shift the following day. You know she’s referring to the odd way you’ve been walking since you entered the ER. You feel heat creep up your neck at the interrogation, looking around the hallway to see if there are any eavesdropping nurses or a certain senior resident.

“Nothing. Just pulled a muscle… in the shower. Washing my foot. So.”

She laughs as Frank rounds the corner. He catches the end of your conversation, looking at the embarrassed expression that coats your face. He chuckles, winking as he passes by you. You give him a small smile in return.

“And what was that?” She gasps.

“Nothing, nothing, just shut up and pick a case before Robby yells at you for being slow again.”

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