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thewolvesofthenorth · 19 days ago

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Cardio

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Rating: 18+ Word Count: 7k+ Summary: Cregan loves a good cardio session. Warnings: Language, fluff, smutty goodness. A/N: Note 1 - Tom and his damn thirst trap inspired this one shot. So enjoy! Note 2 - Sorry for being MIA! Life has been really hectic lately and I've also been going through some writer's block. I promise I haven't forgotten my other works, and plan on finishing Man Of Honor soon!

⟸ Man of Honor ❖ What Goes Around Comes Around ⟹

Cregan adjusted his grip on the bar like he’d done a hundred times before lifting it off the rack. He took a deep breath has he steadily lowered the bar to his chest and held it there for a moment before pushing it back up as he exhaled, before going right into nine more reps. With a grunt, he completed his last rep, pushing the bar up and guiding it back onto the rack with a satisfying clink. He laid there for a moment, chest heaving up and down, as he caught his breath. He slowly sat up, rolling his shoulders out, and ran his hands through his hair as he scanned the gym.

It was busy, but not packed – just enough movement to make the air hum with the steady rhythm of effort. He wiped his palms on his shorts and scanned the room, debating his next move. He wasn’t in a rush and was thinking of doing one more exercise before ending his session early.

Kettlebells?

Treadmill?

Row machine?

His eyes roamed over the various pieces of equipment when his eyes landed on the squat rack across the way and did a double take.

There you were, setting up for your set, and something about the way you moved caught his eye—not flashy, not trying to show off, just steady, focused, controlled. Your form was clean. Back flat, knees tracking just right, depth solid. You braced before the lift like you’d done it a hundred times. Almost textbook.

Almost.

As you stepped into position and dropped into your first rep, he noticed it. Your right knee drifted just a little near the bottom of the rep—nothing dramatic, barely noticeable, but it was there. The kind of thing that could throw off your balance or wear on your knee over time if it became a habit.

Cregan leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and watched for one more rep. Just to make sure he’d seen it right.

Yep.

There it was again.

Subtle, but there.

The corner of his mouth twitched—half a smirk, half something else. He grabbed his towel and wiped down the bench before standing. He didn’t plan to say anything. Not really. But before he’d even made the decision, his feet were already moving.

You had just racked the bar, stepping back and rolling out your shoulders when you caught a figure approaching. Tall, solid, a towel slung over one shoulder, sweat still fresh on his collar.

Wow.

He’s hot.

You were pleasantly surprised when he stopped in front of you.

“Hi,” he said, voice laced with an undertone of nervousness. “I – uh – hope you don’t mind me jumping in for a second.”

“Yes?” you replied cautiously. You were used to men hitting on you at the gym, but you didn’t get that creepy vibe from him.

If anything he seemed a little awkward, but friendly.

It doesn’t help that he’s easy on the eyes.

Very easy on the eyes.

“Your form’s solid,” he added quickly, holding up a hand like he wasn’t trying to correct you, just point something out. “Seriously—most people don’t hit depth like that. I just noticed that your right knee drifts a bit at the bottom of the rep.”

He tapped his own leg, just above the knee. “Could be your glute not firing fully or maybe just fatigue. Not a big deal, but I figured you’d want to know.”

There was no smugness in his tone, just that calm, measured confidence that comes from someone who’s put in the reps—both lifting and watching.

“Thanks,” you said, a little surprised. “You’ve got a good eye.”

He shrugged, a faint smile playing at the edge of his lips. “I don’t like seeing people get hurt when they’re doing everything else right.”

Then, as quickly as he came over, he stepped back, giving you your space. “Anyway—I just wanted to point that out to you. I promise I wasn’t trying to be a creep or anything.”

“I appreciate it,” you answered with a small smile. “And don’t worry, I don’t think you’re a creep. I’ve met lots of creeps, and you don’t strike me as one.”

“Thank you,” he replied, bringing a hand to his heart. “Glad to know that I don’t fall under that category.”

“You’re very welcome.”

The two of you stared at each other for a moment, and you couldn’t help but take in the steel gray of his eyes.

He has such pretty eyes.

The spell was broken with the clearing of his throat, and you blinked, a blush spreading across your cheeks.

“I – uh - I better let you get back to it,” he bashfully said, equally as embarrassed to have been staring at you for so long. Before you could say anything, he turned and began to walk away.

“Wait,” you said, not wanting this attractive stranger to walk away just yet. “You never gave me your name.”

He chuckled. “It’s Cregan.”

Cregan.

I like it.

“Nice to meet you, Cregan.” Holding your hand out, you introduced yourself to him, and the moment your hands touched, electricity surged through your body.

What was that?

“Likewise.”

Realizing you still held hands, you awkwardly let go, though you strangely missed the way your hand felt in his warm grip.

“Thank you again, Cregan.”

“You’re welcome,” he answered. “I’ll be seeing you around.”

“Yeah,” you managed to breathe out. As he walked away, you couldn’t help but shamelessly check him out. Not wanting to get caught staring, you shook your head and went back to your workout. Making sure to keep your right knee from drifting, you sank into your first rep, and you could already tell that you had a little more power to your lift when you stood back up.

Huh, I wonder what else he could help me out with.

I wouldn’t mind getting a little workout in with him.

- ONE WEEK LATER -

The bench press wasn’t usually where you started, but you felt good today.

Focused.

You’d been a little more deliberate with your programming lately, and maybe—just maybe—part of that came from wanting to level up after that first conversation with Cregan.

You still thought about it.

And you definitely thought about him a lot over the course of the last week.

The short interaction that you shared had left an impression, and you couldn’t help but let your thoughts wander.

How often does he come here?

I haven’t seen him since last week.

Should I go up to him next time I see him and say something?

You weren’t sure what you would do, but you knew that you definitely wanted to see the handsome man again.

You were midway through your warm-up sets when you loaded the bar with a weight you hadn’t attempted in a while. It wasn’t a PR, but it was close enough to give you pause.

Lying back on the bench, you went through your checklist.

Feet planted.

Back tight.

Wrists straight.

You took a deep breath and unracked the bar, lowering it with control.

Midway up on the second rep, your arms trembled just slightly.

“I got you,” a voice said smoothly above you, and you instinctively relaxed—not giving up, just reassured. The bar steadied under your grip as he shadowed the lift with perfect timing.

Your eyes darted up, just long enough to confirm what your gut already knew.

Cregan.

You pushed through the third rep, and with his quiet support hovering just behind the bar, managed a fourth. On the fifth, you stalled for a second—but he only gave a gentle assist, enough to help you lock it out.

You racked the bar with a clank and sat up, wiping sweat from your brow.

“You always show up at just the right time, huh?” you teased, turning your head to look up at him.

Cregan gave a small shrug and a grin. “Guess I’ve got good timing. Or maybe I just hang out near the bench press in case someone strong needs a hand.”

You laughed. “Strong, huh?”

“I saw that set. That was solid work,” he said, nodding toward the plates. “Were you going for five?”

“Yeah,” you admitted. “Figured I’d try pushing a little.”

“Well, you had four on your own. Fifth just needed a nudge. Not bad at all.”

He offered his hand to help you up, and you took it without thinking. That same electric flicker sparked up your arm, just like last time.

You let go quicker this time. But not by much.

“Thanks for the spot,” you said, looping your towel around your neck. “You here for anything specific today?”

“Chest and shoulders,” he replied. “Figured I’d bench too, but looks like you beat me to it.”

“We can trade off. I’m not done yet.”

He raised an eyebrow, amused. “You offering me a spot?”

“I am,” you said, stepping aside. “Fair’s fair.”

Cregan stepped in behind the bench as you laid back down and set up for your next set. He kept just enough distance to be respectful, but close enough that if you needed help, he could grab the bar fast.

Okay, focus, he told himself as you gripped the bar and started your first rep.

But focusing was a bit harder than it should’ve been. You were so close. So, tantalizing. And it didn’t help that your head was so close to his cock.

Fuck, I’m at the perfect height to just slide my -

Shit.

Stop.

Dammit.

Cregan coughed and tried to focus on what he was supposed to be doing. Spotting you. He shook his head and took a deep breath as you continued your set, oblivious to his inner turmoil.

Your form was tight, deliberate and controlled without being robotic. The way your core engaged with each rep, the subtle arch in your back, the precision in how you breathed through the movement… it was impressive. Sexy in a way that had nothing to do with trying to be.

You weren’t showing off.

You didn’t need to.

Confident without being cocky.

Damn, that’s rare.

You finished your last rep with a determined exhale and racked the bar with a satisfying clink. You sat up and glanced back at him with a smile.

“Thanks again,” you said, wiping a bit of sweat from your temple, and he couldn’t help but notice a drop slide down your chest and into the valley between your breasts. Cregan gulped and tried not to think about sliding his tongue between them and licking you clean.

Fuck, I’m like a dog with a bone.

What is wrong with me?

“You’ve got a good presence back there,” you continued.

Cregan raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a smirk. “Is that your way of saying I make a good spotter?”

“That,” you replied with a grin, “and you didn’t hover or breathe down my neck. Points for that.”

“I aim to please,” he said lightly, stepping around as you moved off the bench. “Your turn to keep me from embarrassing myself.”

“Oh, I doubt that’s possible,” you retorted, but took your place behind the bench anyway. “Let’s see what you’ve got, big guy.”

Big guy, he echoed in his head, fighting the grin that tugged at his mouth.

I could show you big.

Ugh.

I need to stop.

He laid back and grabbed the bar, suddenly fully aware of how close you were standing.

Don’t look up.

As much as he tried to control himself, his eyes couldn’t help but drift up to scan your body, and he felt his cock twitch.

I could just pull you down and have you sit on my face -

Shit.

Fuck.

Think of something else.

Anything but that.

Fucking hell.

Your voice cut through his thoughts. “Ready?”

“Ready,” he said, voice strained, and he tightened his grip on the bar.

He knocked out the first few reps easily, but couldn’t help the awareness of you above him. On his fifth rep, as he pushed upward, he caught the faintest hint of your scent. Clean, like citrus and something warm, and he nearly lost his rhythm.

Focus, idiot.

It’s just benching.

Just don’t look up.

Do NOT look up.

He racked the bar cleanly and sat up, shaking his head with a half-laugh. “Not gonna lie, that was a little distracting.”

“Oh?” you said innocently, crossing your arms, which only served to put your breasts up and it took Cregan great effort to not look. “Was I breathing down your neck?”

“No,” he said, standing. “You were perfect. That’s the problem.”

Your eyes met his, and there was that pause again, like the air got a little heavier between you.

“Maybe next time,” you said, a smile dancing at the edge of your lips, “I’ll try to be less distracting.”

Cregan chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck, unsure if you were teasing or flirting or both.

Whatever it is, I like it.

A lot.

“I don’t mind it. Feel free to try and make it harder instead.”

He internally smacked himself at the double entendre.

Idiot.

You quirked an eyebrow at his statement and let out a giggle.

“Thanks again for your help. This time and last time.”

“Of course,” he replied with a smile. “I’m always happy to lend a hand or whatever you need.”

Oh my god.

Stop it.

“Ever the gentleman,” you giggled. “Maybe I’ll come to your rescue next time.”

“I won’t say no to that.”

“And who knows, maybe I’ll make it a little harder.”

Oh sweetheart, you already do.

- ONE WEEK LATER -

Cregan had just finished his last set of rows when he veered off the main floor, heading toward the water fountain near the side studio. He wasn’t looking for anything, really. Just a breather. Maybe to stretch before heading out.

Then he saw you.

Through the glass wall, the lights in the yoga room were low—soft and warm, casting a calm glow over the empty space.

Well, almost empty.

You were on the far side, barefoot on a mat, arms stretched out in front of you, hips high in the air—downward dog.

Cregan blinked.

Fuck.

Okay.

That was… definitely a view.

One I wouldn’t mind seeing up close.

Your leggings clung to every line of your legs and hips, and his brain short-circuited for a second before he dragged his eyes up to safer territory.

Still—damn.

You looked strong. Solid. Controlled. Even in a pose that most people rushed through, you held it with intention. He watched the slow rhythm of your breath, the way your back lengthened and heels pressed closer to the floor.

He didn’t even realize he’d stopped walking until someone brushed past him.

Get it together, Stark.

He exhaled sharply, then glanced back. You flowed seamlessly from downward dog into a lunge, arms rising in a fluid motion. Graceful. Like your body knew what it was doing.

It reminded him of how you’d moved at the squat rack two weeks ago—steady, focused. No showboating. Just strength with purpose.

And now he couldn’t help but think about how your body looked that day as well. And then his mind drifted to less innocent thoughts. Thoughts of coming up and grinding himself against you, letting you feel just how much you affected him. He hadn’t been able to get you off his mind since meeting you, and he was hooked.

He continued to watch when you shifted into a low warrior pose, and that’s when your eyes flicked up.

And saw him.

Shit.

Just keep walking.

Head to the locker room.

Don’t make it weird.

He froze, half-caught in the doorway, hand still gripping his water bottle. You smiled—small, but definitely amused. He could practically hear your thoughts.

Caught staring, huh?

Cregan raised a hand in half-surrender, half-wave, and gave a sheepish grin. You didn’t look bothered. In fact, you beckoned for him to come in.

That was all the permission he needed.

He stepped inside, trying not to feel like a total idiot. “Didn’t mean to interrupt,” he said, voice low. “I was just… passing by… on my way to get some water… because I was thirsty….”

Smooth, Stark.

Real smooth.

“Mmhmm.” You stayed in the pose a beat longer before rising with ease. “And you just happened to stop right when I was upside down?”

“Pure coincidence,” he said, deadpan, though the faint smile tugging at his mouth betrayed him. “I didn’t know you were a yoga type.”

You sat down on the mat and stretched your legs in front of you. “And here I thought you only lived in the weight room.”

“Hey, I get my cardio in too. Can’t forget about cardio. It’s like the most important workout. And the most fun if you do it right…”

You grinned and shook your head in amusement, picking up on the double meaning. “So, you gonna join in, or just enjoy the view?”

Cregan chuckled, scratching behind his neck. “Is both an option?”

That earned a laugh out of you—genuine, light—and damn, he liked that sound more than he expected.

You tilted your head, considering. “Can you touch your toes without swearing?”

“…Define swearing.”

You laughed, then nodded toward the open space beside you. “Try not to break any bones, hotshot.”

Cregan dropped down onto the mat beside you, grunting a little more dramatically than necessary. “No promises. But if I pull something, you’re responsible for CPR.”

You leaned closer, voice laced with mock sweetness. “That only works if your heart stops.”

He smirked. “Trust me, if I keep looking at you in those leggings, it just might.”

You shook your head, but he saw the blush bloom across your cheeks and the way you didn’t look away.

“Alright, Romeo,” you said, leaning forward into a stretch and folding over your legs with ease. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Cregan attempted to mirror you, reaching for his toes. His hands stopped somewhere around mid-shin.

“Wow,” you deadpanned, watching his effort. “Such grace. So majestic.”

“I’m a work in progress,” he grunted. “You ever try benching two plates after a yoga session? Doesn’t mix.”

“Can’t say I have,” you answered with a grin. “Let me guess, flexibility isn’t your strong suit?”

“Not physically,” he said, shooting you a look that was pure mischief. “Though I’m very adaptable in other areas.”

You raised a brow. “Is that so?”

“Very,” he said, dragging the word out just a little. “But hey, you’ve got your strengths, too. You could probably choke the life out of me with those killer thighs.”

You laughed again, biting your lip as you rolled out your wrists and slid into a pigeon stretch.

“Just a minute ago you were telling me that I was responsible for keeping you alive, and now you’re telling me that I could kill you with my thighs. Which is it?”

Cregan grinned, not missing a beat.

“Well, maybe I’m just saying… if I had to go out, that wouldn’t be a bad way to go.”

You let out a loud snort, shaking your head as you stretched deeper into the pose. “Morbid and thirsty. Impressive.”

He laughed, leaning back on his hands to watch you with a crooked smile. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises.”

You arched a brow over your shoulder. “Dangerously flexible in your morals, maybe.”

He shrugged, eyes twinkling. “Only when it comes to beautiful women doing yoga.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile you tried to hide still tugged at the corner of your lips, and Cregan saw it.

And damn, that smile was going to haunt him in the best possible way.

Cregan watched the way your body moved. Elegant, strong, confident. He’d seen a lot of people train over the years, but something about the way you owned your space—quietly, unapologetically—hit different.

“Okay, your turn,” you said, gesturing to the pose.

He blinked. “That one? You want me to do that one?”

You nodded, all sweet and innocent on the outside. “What? Too hard?”

“I’m pretty sure my hips weren’t designed for that angle,” he muttered as he awkwardly dropped into the position. “This feels illegal.”

You bit back a laugh. “You’ll survive.”

“Will I?” he groaned, feeling the uncomfortable stretch in his muscles.

You leaned toward him playfully. “Want me to help?”

Cregan raised an eyebrow. “Is that an actual offer or just a very good tease?”

You didn’t answer—just leaned in a little closer and rested a hand on his lower back, guiding him gently into a deeper stretch.

His breath caught.

Your touch was light, but it burned through him. Too brief. Not enough.

He felt his cock stir in his shorts and he sucked in a breath.

Fuck.

“Better?” you murmured.

“…Yeah,” he said, voice rougher than he meant it to be. “Definitely better.”

For a moment, the room was quiet. The hum of the AC. The faint thud of music from the gym floor. But in that space, it felt like time stood still.

You sat back, crossing your legs. “You’re not too bad for a gym bro.”

He smiled, letting himself admire you just a little longer. “And you’re not too bad for someone who called me Romeo just a few minutes ago.”

You gave a small laugh, head tipping side to side.. “Flattery gets you halfway there.”

“And what gets me the rest of the way?”

You kept your eyes on his, a coy smile playing at your lips. “That depends.”

“On?”

“How sore you are after this,” you taunted lightly.

I bet I could make you even more sore.

He laughed, shaking his head. “So this is how it is. I show up for water, and suddenly I’m in a yoga showdown. I think you have an unfair advantage.”

You leaned back on your hands, stretching your legs out in front of you again, toes pointed. “Unfair? Please. You’re the one who wandered in here and started talking about CPR and killer thighs.”

Cregan tilted his head, giving you a lazy, lopsided grin that made your stomach flutter. “Hey, I was just appreciating the view. You’re the one who invited me to join. Now I’m locked in a battle of flexibility I never signed up for.”

You smirked. “You could tap out anytime, you know. I won’t judge.”

“Oh, I’m not tapping out,” he said, easing himself into a seated twist with a grunt. “I just want it noted that if I pull a muscle, it’s because you challenged me and not because I’m old.”

You gave him a slow once-over, eyes deliberately sweeping from his shoulders to his legs. “You don’t look old. But if you need a nap and a protein shake after this, I’ll understand.”

Cregan snorted, leaning in slightly. “You offering to tuck me in, or just judging from a distance?”

You raised a brow, feigning innocence. “Depends. Do you snore?”

“Only when I’ve had a really good workout,” he said, voice low with just enough suggestion to make your pulse skip.

A really good workout.

You laughed, shaking your head again. “Careful, Casanova. Keep talking like that and I might make this yoga session a lot harder for you.”

I have something hard for you.

Cregan had to bite his tongue from speaking his thoughts.

Dammit.

I need to calm down.

He gave you a boyish grin. “Is that a promise or a threat?”

You held his gaze, smile playing at your lips. “Guess you’ll have to stretch a little further and find out.”

Cregan let out a low whistle, dragging his palm down his jaw as he grinned. “Damn. Remind me never to underestimate a girl with a yoga mat and a death glare.”

You laughed, the sound slipping out before you could stop it. “This isn’t a death glare. You’d know if it was a death glare.”

He leaned back on his elbows, eyes never leaving yours. “Oh yeah? What’s this one, then?”

You tilted your head. “This is my I’m humoring you but fully prepared to kick your ass if you get cocky look.”

He chuckled. “Noted. You’ve got a whole catalog of looks, don’t you?”

You shrugged, stretching one arm across your chest and rolling your shoulder with a soft exhale. “Occupational hazard.”

“Of being intimidatingly hot and flexible?”

“Of being left alone at the gym, mostly. But sure, let’s go with your version.”

Cregan groaned and flopped onto his back like he’d been mortally wounded. “Okay, that one hurt.”

“You’ll live,” you joked, shifting to straddle your mat and reach for a side bend. “I’ve seen your form in the weight room. You’re tougher than that.”

He propped himself up on one elbow, watching the movement of your body—fluid and precise, all curves and confidence. “You’ve been watching me, huh?”

You looked over your shoulder at him, that smug little smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “Only when you’re not looking.”

He laughed, something warm and boyish and way too endearing. “So we’re both guilty then.”

You shrugged one shoulder and leaned into the next stretch. “You weren’t exactly subtle standing outside the glass, Romeo.”

“You kinda stole my attention,” he admitted.

You glanced at him again, your voice quieter this time. “Yeah, well… you’re not so easy to ignore either.”

That pulled a different kind of smile from him—smaller, a little crooked. “We should do this again sometime.”

Your eyes stayed locked on his. “The stretching? Or the flirting?”

His smile widened. “Yes.”

You rolled your eyes and let out another laugh, reaching for your water bottle. “Careful, big guy. Keep that up, and you might just charm your way into a full yoga routine.”

He reached for his own bottle, still looking at you. “Good. Then maybe I’ll finally learn to touch my damn toes.”

You bumped your shoulder against his as you stood. “Dream big, hotshot.”

- SEVERAL WEEKS LATER -

The gym was quieter than usual for a Saturday afternoon. Just the low hum of machines, a few scattered lifters, and the rhythmic thud of a medicine ball against rubber flooring as you threw it.

Cregan caught it easily on the rebound, bare chest gleaming under the overhead lights. He’d ditched his shirt a few sets ago—claiming it was too hot—but you were starting to suspect it had more to do with the way your eyes kept drifting to his chest when he thought you weren’t looking.

Not that you were subtle.

Over the past few weeks, the two of you had slipped into a rhythm. A few solo lifts turned into full workouts. Spotting each other turned into grabbing post-gym smoothies. You’d learned his favorite stretches, he’d memorized the way you liked your weights racked. Somewhere along the line, the banter had deepened, the touches lingered just a little longer, and now…

Now it felt like something was going to give.

“Come on,” he called out, grinning as he braced his feet against yours. “That all you’ve got?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, already halfway up. “I’d be faster if someone didn’t keep showing off.”

He tilted his head, feigning innocence. “Show off? I’m just letting the airflow do its job.”

You huffed, catching the medicine ball at the top of your sit-up. The two of you had been at this for ten minutes—partner sit-ups, passing the ball, knees locked together, just close enough to feel the warmth radiating between your bodies.

It had started off as a challenge—Cregan had claimed he could outlast you. You’d claimed he was all talk.

But now it was something else entirely.

The tension had been building all week. All month, if you were being honest.

You tossed the ball back, and when he came up, he held the position a beat longer, eyes locking on yours. His hand brushed yours during the pass—on purpose, this time.

“Slowing down on me?” he asked, voice lower now. Rougher.

You rose again, catching the ball with a grunt and holding at the top just a second longer than usual. Cregan’s face was barely a foot from yours, sweat at his temple, chest rising and falling with steady effort, those steel gray eyes locked on yours like he wasn’t thinking about the next rep.

Neither were you.

Your breath caught for a second, the tension shifting—something sharper, heavier.

He smirked just slightly, and you knew he felt it too. “Still with me?” he asked, voice low and just a little cocky.

You licked your lips without meaning to. “Barely.”

You passed the ball back, and this time when he came up, his face stopped even closer to yours—too close.

You weren’t even sure if you threw the next pass on time. You were focused on the way his eyes dropped, for the briefest second, to your mouth.

“I think we lost count,” you murmured.

“I don’t care,” he replied, and there was no mistaking the husk in his voice.

His forehead was nearly brushing yours now, the space between you thick with heat and breath and the kind of tension that made your stomach flip.

You leaned in half an inch—just testing. His lips parted like he was ready to meet you.

In the blink of an eye, your hands found his shoulders—solid and warm under your palms—and you leaned forward, finally closing the distance.

Weeks of not so subtle glances and building sexual tension came crashing together in one electric moment.

He kissed you back without pause—one hand hitting the mat behind him to steady, the other sliding instinctively to your waist. His mouth moved against yours like he’d been waiting for this. Like he wasn’t about to waste the moment.

When you finally pulled apart, your breath came fast and shallow. His forehead rested against yours, both of you still pressed close, chests rising and falling in tandem.

“Okay,” you said, dazed but smiling. “That definitely wasn’t part of the workout.”

Cregan laughed, low and warm. “Nope. Not at all. But you don’t see me complaining.”

You chuckled, your fingers still curled slightly into his skin. “Think you’ve got it in you to finish the set?”

“Not a chance,” he replied, his gaze dropped to your mouth again, voice a little rougher now. “I was thinking that we could call it on this set and move on to something else.”

“Something else?” you asked, licking your lips as a million ideas came to mind.

“Mhmm. I was thinking we could add some cardio to today’s session.” Cregan wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and you threw your head back with a laugh.

“Well, I think we’d need a change of scenery for that, don’t you?”

There was a glint in his eye as his mouth curved, his smile full of mischief, and you felt dampness pooling between your legs.

Thank god there’s only a few people here today.

“That sounds like a great idea. Maybe we should hit the showers and get cleaned up first.”

You nodded as he stood first, offering you a hand. You took it, and he didn’t let go right away—just held your fingers for a beat longer than necessary before finally releasing them. You gathered your things in a quiet sort of rhythm that had started to feel familiar over the past few weeks—his towel next to yours, your water bottles side by side. It was easy now, natural. Like your workouts had slipped into something more than just reps and rest times.

As you neared the locker rooms, Cregan glanced at the sign overhead and groaned. “Separate locker rooms. The universe is cruel.”

You smirked. “I’m sure you’ll survive. Barely.”

He shot you a look—half pout, half heat. “Don’t sound so confident.”

You gave him a wink and turned toward your door. “Try not to miss me.”

He muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like too late, and then you both disappeared into your respective rooms.

The locker room was quiet, your footsteps echoing faintly against the tile. You hadn’t even made it to your bench yet when your phone buzzed.

Cregan: I’m sweating like hell over here and it’s not from our workout.

Cregan: Your fault, by the way.

You grinned, cheeks warm for a completely different reason now. The memory of his lips still lingered—soft but charged. Your pulse hadn’t settled since.

You hadn’t stripped down yet. You were still flushed, your body gleaming with sweat, sports bra clinging to you, leggings molded tight over your hips. And suddenly, you were feeling bold.

You turned toward the mirror, angled just enough to show the curve of your waist and hips, one hand pulling your waistband down just slightly—barely teasing the edge of skin below. Your sports bra was dark with sweat, highlighting every line and dip. You snapped the photo quickly before you could overthink it.

You: Thought I’d give you something to help you cool down. 😇

No reply.

Then the typing bubble appeared.

Then disappeared.

Then again.

Cregan: Now, that’s just cruel.

Cregan: And doing the total opposite of helping me cool down.

Cregan: But two can play at that game.

And then—

A photo came through.

Your breath hitched.

Cregan, still shirtless, still sweat-slicked, standing in front of the mirror in his locker room. His hair was damp, messy from running his hand through it. His chest glistened, abs tight and defined. His hand pushed the band of his sweats down, revealing his black Calvin Klein boxers, with just a hint of V-line drawing your eyes lower.

You bit your lip, legs pressing together as you felt your core grow wet.

Fuck.

He’s got me there.

You: Oh? I don’t know.

You: I might just win this little competition.

A beat.

Cregan: I don’t think so.

You stared at his picture for a second longer, heat unfurling in your belly.

Seven hells, he looks good.

You could practically feel the sweat on his skin, picture the heat rolling off of him, the way his muscles flexed under your hands.

Fine.

He wanted to play?

You peeled your leggings down to mid-thigh and then pulled your sports bra off. Twisting your body to show your exposed back and ass, you covered your breast with your free hand and took another photo.

You: I’d like to see you try. 😈

You hit send before you could second-guess it.

Not even ten seconds later, another image pinged in.

Cregan had angled the camera down the length of his torso. The shot was unmistakably deliberate: his sweats and boxers were pushed much lower on his hips, one hand casually cupping himself, hiding the bulge that was certainly there.

Holy shit.

Cregan: You’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart.

Cregan: Five more minutes of this and I’m walking in there to teach you a lesson.

You grinned, heart pounding.

You: You talk big, Stark. But I don’t think you’re brave enough to actually do it.

You: Shame, really. The view’s getting better over here…

Typing bubble.

Pause.

Typing again.

Then:

Cregan: Say the word.

Cregan: I swear I’ll come find you.

Cregan: Right now.

Your lips curled into a wicked smile. You took one last shot—legs fully spread with your towel draped over your breasts and falling between your legs. You bit your lip and looked right into the camera as you took the picture and sent it off with a few quick taps.

Here goes nothing.

You: Locker room’s empty.

You: If you’ve got the guts… come prove it.

Cregan stared at the last picture, jaw tight, heart pounding hard in his chest.

Locker room’s empty.

If you’ve got the guts… come prove it.

Seven hells.

He didn’t even hesitate.

Shoving his phone into his gym bag, Cregan threw his towel over his shoulder, pushed out of the men’s locker room, and crossed the narrow hallway separating the two. There were only a few people left in the gym—none in sight near the showers.

Hopefully, it stays that way.

He moved quickly, quietly, the kind of purposeful stride that didn’t leave room for second-guessing.

One hand on the door.

A quick glance down the hall.

Coast’s still clear.

And then he was inside.

The locker room was quiet, faint steam still lingering in the air from earlier showers. And there you were—exactly where he’d imagined—sitting on the bench with the towel now wrapped yourself.

You looked up the second the door opened, eyes meeting his.

“Well,” you said, voice soft but daring, “I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”

He shut the door behind him. “Didn’t think I couldn’t.”

You stood and let the towel drop as you walked toward him, one step and then another, until there was hardly an inch between you. He could smell the faint sweetness of your skin, a mix of sweat and something uniquely you, and it was intoxicating.

His gaze dropped to your mouth. “Last chance to kick me out.”

You tilted your head, meeting his eyes with a heat that was pure challenge. “What makes you think I want to?”

Fuck.

That did it.

There was a thud as his gym bag and towel hit the floor, and his hands were on your hips in the blink of an eye, pulling you flush against him. Your back hit the row of lockers as his mouth found yours—hungry, hot, no more teasing.

You kissed him back, fingers sliding into his hair, dragging your nails across his bare shoulders. His hands wandered, gripping the backs of your thighs as you hitched one leg up against his hip, grinding against him, with just the fabric of his sweats and boxers separating you.

You broke the kiss just long enough to whisper, “Still think I’m playing a dangerous game?”

Cregan growled low in his throat. “Baby, you started the game.”

He kissed you again, deeper this time—less restraint, more heat—and somewhere in the back of your mind you remembered the showers were just steps away.

Your back thudded softly against the lockers again, breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a laugh as Cregan’s mouth moved down your neck, lips hot and insistent.

Then you tugged the strings of his sweats and Cregan broke away to push the rest of his clothes off, until they were nothing but a heap on the floor. You trailed your eyes down his body until you saw it. Your eyes widened at the sight of his hard cock, tip weeping with pre-cum, and you licked your lips.

Fuck.

Is it even going to fit?

“You’re really not holding back,” you said, voice husky, teasing.

“Neither are you,” he murmured, and his hands were already on your waist, thumbs brushing the strip of skin above your hips.

You smiled—daring him—and then pulled him by the hand toward the showers.

The tile under your feet was warm, the gentle hiss of a running shower echoing faintly off the walls as you turned the nozzle. Steam rose almost instantly, curling around your bodies in a slow dance of heat and tension.

Cregan was already close again, his fingers skimming your ribs until he cupped your breasts. He paused, gaze dark as it raked over you, water catching in the curve of your shoulder, slipping down your chest.

“You’re unreal,” he said, almost reverent. “So beautiful.”

You reached for him and pulled him into the spray with you, hands splayed across his chest as the water rained down on the both of you. His hands moved over your hips, your back, every part of you like he couldn’t decide what to touch first.

Then he had you pressed gently against the tile, his mouth back on yours, slower now but no less intense. One hand braced beside your head while the other found the back of your thigh, lifting, encouraging.

Your breath hitched when he pressed in closer, heat meeting heat, and you could feel his rigid length glide against your skin.

“Tell me if this is too much,” he murmured against your lips.

You smiled through the steam. “Too much? I dared you to come in here.”

He groaned softly, pressing his forehead to yours. “Yeah, and now I don’t think I’m leaving.”

The sound you made then was half laugh, half moan, muffled by his mouth when he kissed you again—slow, deep, winding your core like a spring as he teased you with every gentle roll of his hips.

You were slick and ready and full of want. It felt like an eternity before he tipped you back against the tiles, guiding himself to your entrance. The warm spray slicked over your bodies, and he shifted his grip on your leg, holding steady, teasing until his tip pressed again, then again, and you let out a breathless moan as he finally slipped inside you, inch by inch. You clutched his shoulders, nails digging in, torn between how impossibly big he was and how impossibly good he was. The stretch was incredible—just the right edge of fullness—and you wanted more.

“Fuck,” he breathed into your neck, not even moving yet. “You’re so tight.”

Fingers now in his hair, you arched into him, gritting out, “Keep going.”

“How the hell are you so tight?” he muttered, voice strained.

He pulled back and thrust again, deeper this time, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. In a show of strength, Cregan pulled your other leg up and wrapped them both around his waist, while he thrust up into your heat. You let out a loud moan as he began to pick up speed, hands both urgent and tender as he held you—catalyst and anchor all at once, fucking you the way you’d never imagined.

He drove his cock into you over and over, and you were quickly losing control.

“Fuck, Cregan,” you choked out, your mind dizzy with pleasure. “Right there. Fuck!”

“Louder,” he groaned, driving in at the perfect angle again, and you didn’t care who could hear. It was everything you wanted, everything you needed, heat and pressure building between your legs, every perfect thrust drawing you closer to the edge.

“Oh, fuck! Don’t stop,” you pleaded. “Harder!”

“Yeah? You want it harder, babe?”

“Yes! Harder! Please!”

“Yes, fuck, yes,” he urged and bit down on your neck. Your vision blurred as you came hard, pulsing, walls fluttering around him.

But Cregan didn’t stop.

He wouldn’t, not until you were gasping for breath, over-sensitized and shuddering and coming again, driving into you with a wild, unrelenting intensity that sent sparks across your field of vision. His mouth was at your ear, murmuring, “That’s it, baby… that’s it…,” and then he was gripping your hips tighter, harder, driving into you faster than before, and your whole body trembled as another orgasm ripped through you.

Cregan held you through it, every single second, until your back fell limp against the tiles and he finally let out a growl of his own. Two more thrusts and he was right there with you, spilling into you, almost too much to take. You clutched at him, boneless and breathless, feeling him twitch and then slow inside you, his movements softening, gentling. Your mind was a white blur of sensation as you clung to him, the water a steady, drumming pulse around you both.

“Goddamn,” he murmured when he caught his breath. “That was….”

You let out a small laugh, resting your cheek against his shoulder, feeling the water mat his hair. “One hell of a cardio session?”

“Oh yeah,” he answered with a chuckle. “We definitely got that cardio in.”

You shook your head and laughed again as he let you down gently, hands on your waist like he thought you might vanish. You pressed your forehead to his chest and wrapped your arms around him, as he tenderly stroked the back of your neck with his thumb. After a moment, you reached for the soap, and he took it from you, lathering his hands and then running them down your sides, your hips, your thighs, a slow grin spreading when you shivered under his touch..

“So, uh,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching up as he continued to rub soap across your skin. “Want to get some smoothies after this?”

You tilted your head just enough to glance up at him, your lips brushing lightly against his skin as you smiled. “Smoothies, huh? You really know how to treat a girl.”

Cregan gave a low chuckle, his fingers still gently tracing patterns along the back of your neck. “What can I say? I’m a man of luxury.”

“Mmhmm,” you murmured, pulling back slightly, your arms still looped loosely around him. “Smoothies after a hookup in the locker room. Real classy, Stark.”

He grinned, unbothered and clearly amused. “Hey, you started it.”

You raised a brow. “I started it? You were the one who said we needed to ‘add cardio.’”

His smirk deepened, the heat in his gaze not going anywhere. “And you were the one who dared me into your locker room.”

“Mmm. I guess that’s fair,” you said, tapping his chest with a finger. “Still, maybe next time we should try an actual date first.”

That made him pause—just for a second. Not hesitation, more like surprise. Like he hadn’t expected you to say it first.

Then his expression softened, the teasing edge melting into something more sincere. He cupped your cheek, brushing his thumb along your jaw. “Yeah?” he asked quietly. “You’d be up for that?”

You nodded, the smallest movement, but your eyes didn’t leave his. “Yeah. I would.”

His smile turned genuine, a little less cocky, a little more real. “Okay then. Let’s skip the smoothie bar today. You hungry?”

You gave a soft laugh. “After that? I could definitely eat.”

Cregan pressed a quick kiss to your forehead before pulling you out of the shower and grabbing your towels. “Get dressed. I’m taking you to dinner.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Sweaty, post-gym dinner?”

His eyes dragged over you again, all mischief. “You could show up in a trash bag and still make it hard for me to think straight.”

You rolled your eyes, heat blooming in your cheeks. “You’re lucky I like you, Stark.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said, with that damn grin again. “I really am.”

And the two of you worked to get dressed, you couldn’t stop the smile that curved across your lips—or the flutter in your chest that had nothing to do with the workout.

⟸ Man of Honor ❖ What Goes Around Comes Around ⟹

#cregan stark #tom taylor #house of the dragon #cregan fanfiction #cregan stark x reader #house of the dragon fanfiction #cregan stark x you #cregan x reader #cregan stark x y/n #cregan stark imagine #cregan x you

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thebrothel · 4 months ago

Note

🍆

take it

Night walks Joel x f!reader, 2.3k by the man himself

18+ drugs and smut. Ty @beefrobeefcal and ty for the old asks etc that got his wheels turning @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @xdaddysprincessxx @noxturnalnymph

Joel is being an idiot. It's not like him to keep his distance, but he's obsessed with you, so you don't have to worry about there being someone else. And you def don't have to move on and get a hot Australian surf instructor (even if he's kinda cool, even if it could mean Joel ravishes you in public in a grand romantic gesture while the surfer watches).

The longer you go without Joel's touch, the more you think about his cock. Your body begs for it. Every time you sleep, you have wild wet dreams about him, but it's not enough. You need the real thing.

One night, you're taking a walk by yourself, and your legs slow down when you get to Joel's house. It feels like something else is moving your legs for you, like in that Wallace and Gromit movie, The Wrong Trousers. Except, instead of an evil penguin in control, it's the ghost of Joel's cock inside you. The ghost of his big hands on your ass, pulling you closer.

Like a zombie for his cock, you trudge across his yard and don't even knock on his open door, which is propped open to get fresh air while he works out. You walk right in. Joel is lifting extremely heavy weights in short gym shorts. He's bench pressing, and the bulge in his shorts could not be more enticing.

He has earbuds in and he doesn't hear you come in right away.The top half of the bench is at a slight incline, and if his eyes were open he'd see you, but you're free to ogle as long as you want undetected.

In his jade green shorts, you can see the shape of cock and balls. He continues lifting, grunting with each lift, especially the last one. When he's finished his set, he lies there on the bench catching his breath.

You approach from behind and creep closer to the bench. When re-racks the weight, you zip tie his hands to it. His reaction is delayed. He looks at his hands before looking around and seeing you – You've walked around front to face him.

As looks at you, the alarm on his face turns into relief, then horny affection. He's happy to see you.

He nods slowly, “Alright.” He raises his eyebrows at you then checks you out.

"God damn, pumpkin.”

“Where the hell have you been?” you ask.

Like a dog trying to scratch an itch, he tilts his head to rub his ear against his shoulder in effort to remove an earbud.

You take the earbuds out for him.

��thanks,” he mumbles

You stand straddling the bench and place your hands on the bar near his hands, waiting for him to explain.

The metal bench press bar is at the perfect location for this situation at all times, even if it's not ideal for racking the weight. It only makes him buffer to arrange his gym equipment this way. His upper body is inclined enough to have a good look at you, and the bar is between you but you could duck under it without trouble.

“Well?” you ask.

“What?” he stupidly responds. “Couldn’t hear ya…”

“Where the hell have you been?” you repeat.

There’s a flash of something complicated behind his eyes as if there's more to the situation. Then he puts on that smug, overconfident look and chuckles to himself. “Couldn't even go a whole week, could ya?"

“Asshole,” you respond. “You did this on purpose, got me addicted… now I can’t help myself.”

He nods down toward his lap. “You gonna sit down or what?”

You slowly lower yourself until your crotch meets his warm bulge, making him grunt and you gasp.

“There ya go,” he murmurs. You glare at him then abruptly but reluctantly lift yourself off him.

“Relax, baby.” He tilts his head to display a joint behind his ear. You take it and put it in your mouth. It’s damp and salty from his sweaty hair.

“YOU relax,” you mumble, then light the joint.

His eyes dazzle with affection and he looks at your mouth holding his joint. You pinch it out and put it behind your own ear while the smoke cools in your mouth.

Then you grab his jaw, then bring your face close, and the side of your nose rests against his as you open your mouth and release the smoke. He begins to draw in the smoke, then you gently lower yourself onto his hard-on again and he inhales too quickly, then turns his head and chokes. “Fuck,” he coughs.

You stand up and step back.

You pull up your tank top over your beautiful tits and circle your nipples with your fingers.

“Mmm,” he hums. “C’mere.”

You shake your head no.

He smiles with half his mouth. “Okay,” he concedes.

You keep an eye on his crotch and watch his arousal grow as he watches you strip. When you take off the tank top, you come hover over the bench again and rest your tits on the metal bar and tease your nipples over the metal until they’re painfully erect.

Joel lifts his hips and the erection in his shorts brushes you. You move away and scold him, “Naughty boy.”

He groans.

You run your hands over yourself and slowly move your hips, watching his eyes scan your body, trying to will your sweatpants off.

“Oh, you were made for this, baby,” he purrs as you give him a slow dance, only letting yourself lightly brush against him. “You’re in the wrong damn business,” he says, then adds “whatever the hell you’re in school for.”

You continue to tease him, groping yourself and your tits, then you slide your hand down the front of his pants and he says, “oh yeah…..can’t teach this at community college.”

You rub yourself, watching his chest heave. You pull your hand out of your pants and spread your fingers apart to show him how wet you are.

“Fuck,” he murmurs and his nose twitches. You bring your fingers to his nose then pull them away and he manages a resentful smirk.

“What do you say?” you ask.

"Bring'em here."

“What do you say, Joel?”

“Be a good girl and gimme a taste.”

You shake your head no.

“Please,” he adds with a roll of his eyes.

You offer him a lick and he sucks your fingers into his mouth as far as they’ll go. Licks them clean.

His teeth rake your fingers as you withdraw them from his mouth.

“That’s my bad girl,” he murmurs. “Gunnin’ for a spankin’, ain’t ya?” he cocks his eyebrows. “C’mon, cut these things off,” he pulls at his hands.

“A spanking?” you ask, and stand up again. “Is that what I need?”

You hook your thumbs into your sweat pants and slowly tug them down, one side at a time.

You turn around so your ass is facing him. You move your hips seductively, and when you pull the pants down under your ass, he moans, “Fuck,” and you look back at him with a raise of your eyebrows.

“Oh, you’re a bad, bad girl,” he says. ”Damn right you need a spanking.”

You slap your own ass right on cue.

“God damn,” he responds.

You take off the pants altogether and stay with your ass facing him again.

You begin to touch yourself again, one hand on your breast, looking over your shoulder.

“C’mere, baby,” he begs.

You slide your fingers all the way down your slippery slit, bending forward and tilting your hips -- popping out your pussy as you spread your lips for him.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, sweating. “Hell yeah.”

You plunge a finger into yourself.

“Come and get it, baby,” he urges. “Get what ya came for.”

You withdraw your hand and twist half around to grope your breast as you look him up and down and assess the damage. Oh, he’s wrecked. His hips move, the tent in his shorts begging to escape, straining the seams of his short athletic shorts. His breath is heavy.

You bite your lip.

“You need a lot more than a spanking,” he says, and his eyes darken.

“What do I need?” you ask innocently as you fully face him again. You slowly step over his lap, and with the lightest touch, you use three fingers to nudge his cock through his pants, first from one side, then the other.

Inspecting his erection.

“Mm,” you hum as if considering whether you want it. Then you slide your hand down and cup his balls.

“Fffuuuuuck,” he groans. He breathes vocally as though finishing another set of weights.

You lightly run your hand over the stretched fabric of the shorts, up his aching shaft again. A spot of precum seeping through almost makes you drool. You wet your lips.

“Yeah,” he whispers, “s’all yours, pumpkin.”

You look up at his face for half a second.

“All yours, every inch,” he promises with a nod.

You back up and squat down to put your face at cock level. Through his shorts, you lick the spot of precum, making him moan. You suck him through the fabric and his lips lift.

“Fuck, pumpkin.”

You look up at him with a devilish smile in your eyes.

“I know ya want these hands in your hair while ya do that,” he taunts, displaying his hands as best he can.

You waiver for a moment, then strengthen your resolve. You lick through the fabric along his balls, and your nose nudges his stiff cock. He curses and grunts and each sound makes you gush and twitch.

He watches your face carefully as you appear to give into your desires.

“Yeah,” he whispers, “take what ya came for.”

Your eyes glaze over and your fingers curl under the soaked sweatband of his shorts.

“Yeah,” he quietly encourages.

You pull the waistband down under his cock and he grunts as it springs free.

“Good girl,” he pants just above a whisper. “‘S’all yours,” he repeats, keeping you in the zone, making sure the spell doesn't break.

Straddling him, with both your hands on the bar, you glide your wet pussy along his stiff cock. It's excruciating for both of you, with your loins aching to be joined again.

“Take it,” he whispers.

You reach down to notch him perfectly in your dripping hole.

“Attagirl,” he whispers. "Take it."

You sink down on him with a whimper, and your skin erupts in goosebumps.

His low moan is enough to make you twitch around his length, and he takes a deep ragged breath trying not to cum.

You ride him slow, one hand on your tit, moaning as you roll your hips and fuck yourself on the best dick you've ever had.

“God I love this cock “ you gush. “Gooodddd, I love it.”

“Yeah, take it, baby,” he says. “FUCK you're hot…”

Having him inside you like this – big and hard and perfectly hugged by your insides – it's like breathing after being starved for oxygen.

“Feel so good, baby,” he pants.

“Fuck,” you whine.

Nothing feels better. How can you ever go without it again?

You ride him at a perfect rhythm, salivating to kiss him but more concerned about milking his cock.

“Yeah, that's right,” he encourages as you fuck him. “Take this cock.”

“oh, god,” you moan. “You know what I'm here for?”

“hell yeah, baby,” he says. "You know it's yours."

“Not just your cock,” you say breathily.

“No?” He asks with barely any interest. Feels too good inside you to care.

“I wanna drain your balls,” you tell him.

He groans in response, and his cock twitches.

“Wanna make you my baby daddy,” you say.

“Fuck,” he breathes. He's sweating. Veins bulge in his temple and neck. “always knew that's what ya wanted.”

You slow down even more. “Wanna be so full of your cum,” you pant. “Just fill me up, again and again.”

“Oh, God, yeah,” he pants.

“Fill me up, daddy,” you softly command. "Fill me up."

He groans and begins to blow his load. His hot seed pumps into you so powerfully that it gives you a long hard orgasm far better than you've had in your wet dreams of him.

“Yeah,” he moans weakly. “Drain’em.... drain’em pumpkin.”

With his cock fully seated inside, you grind against him as you both finish coming.

"God damn."

Your skin is hot, and you're in a daze. His cheeks are pink and his pupils are blown out.

“C’mere,” he whispers.

You duck under the bar to hug him, resting your tits and stomach against his sweaty, muscular chest and core. He's still ziptied to the bar, so he can't hug you back. But he kisses your head.

You rest there and feel his breathing as his cock softens in your cunt.

“Ain't empty yet,” he says. “Cut these off, baby.”

You look up at him.

“fuck ya so hard you'll see god,” he promises.

“I’m counting on it," you answer.

You'll need a knife from the kitchen to cut those. You let his cock out and carefully get off him from the side, ducking under his arm.

“Are you hungry?” You ask as you walk over to his kitchenette.

“What?”

“I'm starving.”

You grab his wallet off the counter, then take a Domino’s magnet off the fridge. “What kinda pizza do you want?” you ask.

He looks at his wrists, still ziptied. “Pumpkin-”

“Meat lovers,” You conclude.

He watches you order, and thinks - A hot chick like you draining his balls and feeding him pizza?

He'll remind you who's in charge later. Meanwhile, life could be worse.

--------

Love you, beefro!!! 🖤

#joel miller smut #brothel sleepover 💕#crack but hot?#night walks!joel #toxicanonymity ☠️#joel miller x reader #by night walks

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crowhyun · 6 months ago

Note

gym rat taehyun who you end us seeing frequently at the gym whenever you’re around too and he starts helping you out on some of the stuff and sexual tension and then BAM, sex

a/n: I haven't written smut in so long so please bare with me 😭 I'm trying to get back into the groove of it but I've kinda lost confidence though I hope that doesn't show in my works lol. I hope you enjoy this, anon, and thank you for requesting!!

Warnings: smut, pnv, exhibitionism, unprotected sex but hyun's pull out game is top tier, I would know

WC: 1.8k

The gym a few blocks away from your apartment was always too crowded for your taste. Midday was the worst, with every piece of equipment occupied, and the ones that weren't were a sweaty mess due to peoples' lack of politeness.

Though, around 10PM was always the best time to go. It was much less crowded, and it was almost calming, in a way.

You, along with a few other late night gym rats, took this time to your advantage. The gym was nearly empty, and hip-hop music played quietly from the speakers. The sound of equipment moving and barbells clanking was miniscule compared to how it usually was.

Though, you'd be lying to yourself if you said that that was the only reason you came to the gym at that time.

Your other reason - your main reason - was currently at the pull-up bar, biceps bulging and sweat dripping down his clear skin as he effortlessly hoisted himself up on the bar. You were quite familiar with this man, or at least as familiar as you could get from afar. Without fail, he'd always be at the gym at this time, always alone, and ever so efficient in his workouts.

You tried not to stare as you leisurely stretched. You weren't in the mood for heavy lifting or cardio, yet you were fully intent on boy watching.

After what seemed like over a dozen pull-ups, the man hopped down from the bar, turning around with a hand on his hip to grab his towel, and you quickly looked away to not get caught ogling. To look busy, you continued with your stretching, doing basic stretches to pass the time. You were so distracted trying to look busy that you hadn't even noticed a certain someone approaching until you heard his voice.

"Your form isn't good." He said, causing you to flinch and sir upright, staring right at the man who was sipping from his water bottle.

Is he talking to me?, you thought. Though, he was obvious who he was talking to, due to his large brown eyes seemingly piercing into your soul. "...huh?" Was all that you could muster out.

"Sorry." He apologized, screwing his water bottle shut. "I don't mean to bother you, but I just thought that I should tell you that your form isn't very good. You might hurt yourself."

Your lips went into an O-shape as you realized what he was saying, and you couldn't help but feel embarrassed. You fully expected him to just walk away after that, but he spoke once more.

"I can help with some stretches if you'd like." He said. "I'm no personal trainer, but I know a thing or two."

"Oh...you'd do that?" You asked, trying to keep your voice steady as you inwardly fangirled, knowing that this was the perfect opportunity to get closer to the man you've been crushing on.

"Yeah, of course." He nodded, placing his water bottle down and coming closer, your heart beating a mile a minute. He gave you a sweet smile before he bent down to your level, and you got a close up look at his sweaty skin and well built arms, causing you to shiver in anticipation.

"See, when you're doing lunge stretches, you have to make sure your back is flat and your core is engaged so that you can keep your balance." He said, his voice soft, though the near emptiness of the gym made it seem as if he were loud and clear. He got into position beside you, showing off the proper way to stretch, and you followed suit.

Throught the stretches, you had learned that his name was Taehyun, and he was pretty flexible himself. You may have even purposefully made yourself seem incompetent in your stretches so that he wouldn't leave anytime soon. It was getting later and later, but you didn't want to go home - not yet.

"Hamstring stretches are a bit harder, as most people don't stretch for long enough." He informed you, gently pushing you onto your back. "How flexible are you?" He asked, helping you to hike your leg up. You were hyper aware of the feeling of his strong hands on you, and the change of position nearly made you dizzy.

"Uh, maybe moderately?" You spoke, clearing your throat in an effort to sound like your panties weren't starting to get damp.

"Moderately?" He chuckled with a slight tilt to his head. "We'll see about that then, yeah? Just tell me when it's too much." He said, his hand circling around your calf as he started to slowly push your leg up...up...and up.

You winced a bit, the stretch starting to get painful, but you were too distracted by how he placed his other hand right on your thigh.

"There you go." He encouraged, your leg straight up and pushed against his shoulder as he kneeled down in front of you. "How're you feeling? Think you can go a bit more?"

"I can definitely feel the stretch." You chuckled, your heartrate beating a mile a minute. "I think I can go further, though."

With that, he started to slowly push your leg up once more, your thigh almost touching your chest. "Hmm, you're pretty flexible, aren't you?" He spoke, and you don't know if it's the rising desire within you or not, but his voice was starting to sound more...intimate.

"I didn't...I didn't realize before now." You said, finding it hard to breathe.

"Good thing you have me here then, huh?" He smirked, the sight making your walls clench around nothing. He then started to slowly lower your leg before doing the same to the other one. Your breath hitched at the stretch, and you winced.

"Fuck..." You whispered, unable to keep it in.

"Just a bit more, you got it." He said, his whisper matching yours as he stretched you further. His torso pressed against your leg, and you couldn't help yourself from taking a peek down between your legs. Truthfully, you just wanted to make sure you didn't completely soak through your leggings, but instead, you got a glimpse of what Taehyun was packing. The dim light of the gym reflected on the bulge in his gym shorts, and you literally felt your heart beat in your clit.

You quickly looked back up, eyes slightly widening, just to see that he was making eye contact with you. There was a certain gleam in his eyes that told you that he knew exactly what you were looking at.

If that didn't tell you enough, then his next actions did.

Stretching your leg so that your thigh met your chest, he positioned himself so that he was pressing up against you, and your breath hitched once you felt his bulge directly press against your clothed heat.

Shit...he's so close.

"There you go..." He said, his voice dangerously lustful. "Now you're all stretched out for me."

You weren't exactly sure when the switch flipped, and at this point, you didn't care if you were soaking through your leggings or not. You weren't crazy, his voice definitely held some underlying tension there, and neither of you could hide from it.

"Now that you're all stretched out, you can work out safely, no matter how hard."

Next thing you know, your leggings were hanging off of one leg, and your panties were pushed to the side to accommodate for how Taehyun's girth was stretching you out in a completely different way.

Sweat dripped down the strands of his wet hair, and your leg was hiked up on his shoulder, ensuring that you had no way to hide from just how deliciously he was rocking his hips into yours.

It was a caconaphy of hushed moans, grunts and whimpers, the sounds of your bodies colliding. You but your lip harshly to try and silence yourself even though you were pretty sure the gym was empty at this time. Taehyun's cock ruthlessly massaged your g-spot with each thrust, and he groaned in ecstacy as your nails dug into his arms in order to brace yourself.

"Ah- ah- ah-" Staccato moans left your lips as your body jerked each time his tip slammed against that spot within you, his pelvis hitting your clit over and over again.

"Fuck, you're so tight." He groaned, his brows furrowed in concentration, solely focused on fucking you dumb on his cock.

A loud keen ripped from your throat as he slightly adjusted his positioning, his cock hitting so deep inside your fluttering walls. Your hips bucked up and your other leg lifted, the urge to close your legs and run away from the numbing pleasure growing greater.

"Nuh-uh." Taehyun tsked, shaking his head as he roughly spread your legs, his cock pushing deeper inside of you. "C'mon, you can take it. Take this cock." He grunted, gifting you with a particularly harsh thrust that had you reeling.

Your head fell back on the mat underneath you and your thighs shook. You could feel his cock throb inside of you, his low grunts only driving you closer to the edge. You then gasped loudly, your jaw dropping and your body tensing.

"C-cumming, I'm cum-" You stammered out, only to cut yourself off with a high pitched moan that would've been impossible for you to keep in. Your pussy walls clamped around Taehyun's thick shaft like a vice, and he felt like he was seconds away from absolutely losing it at the way your fucked out face contorted into barely concealed pleasure as you creamed all around his cock.

He wrapped his hands around your wrists, holding you down as he pumped faster, his balls tightening as he saw completion on the horizon. "Mmmh, that's it...cum on my cock just like- hah- that." He groaned, his jaw clenching as his blunt nails dug into your wrists, and before he knew it, he couldn't take anymore.

He was quick to pull out of your tight heat, which was almost painful, but that no longer mattered to him, because his hot, thick cum was spurting out of his glistening cock and onto your stomach. The hottest whine left his throat as he came down from his high, his chest heaving up and down, and his eyes darting down to your fucked out form.

A few minutes of comfortable silence passed, the only sound being the low volume of the music playing through the gym speakers and the sound of the both of you catching your breaths.

"Well, uhm..." He suddenly spoke, clearing his throat. You noticed that he was avoiding eye contact, and the tips of his ears were tinted red.

Was he...embarrassed?

You fought the urge to laugh as he continued.

"If you just, uh...do those stretches before every workout, you should be good to go." He said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Thanks..." You spoke, your voice a bit hoarse. "For helping me stretch...and for the little present you gave me." You said, referring to his seed that was splattered across your stomach, seeping down to your belly button.

His eyes widened and he choked, almost as if he forgot that he had came on you.

"I'll...deal with that."

#txt taehyun #taehyun x reader #taehyun smut #txt smut #txt x reader #crowhyun requests #taehyun requests

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months ago

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Look, Don't Touch 2

Warnings: this fic includes noncon/rape, stalking, breaking and entering, possible blood and violence, and femcel energy. Tags are not exhaustive and more may be added as the series progresses.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You get bored of watching and that makes you careless. (dark!reader)

Characters: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes

Note: Well, well, well, if it isn’t another bad decision.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like snakes love Woody’s boots. Take care. 💖

Your hands are bound behind you, the belt looped through the bars of the wooden chair. Your stomach bubbles uneasily as you watch Bucky paw through your bag. This isn’t happening. How the fuck did you get here? He wasn’t supposed to show up!

He throws your bag down as he holds your phone. He nears and turns the screen to face you. He waits and checks it. You don’t use facial recognition, the piece of shit’s too cheap to have that feature. He sighs.

“What’s your code?” he asks.

“Fuck off,” you snarl.

His gloved hand balls and he grits his teeth, “don’t make this–”

You kick out and your heel meets his crotch, his legs folding as he slips to one knee. He inhales with a gristle as he grips his thigh, barely keeping a hold on your phone. He clears his throat and stands. He slams the phone on the table and stomps out.

You laugh but not for long. He’s back with duct tape. He tapes your legs to the chair and winds several layers around your waist. You shake your head and curl your lip.

“Look, dude, it’s really not that deep,” you say, “it’s a grift. I squat. Just when people are out of town. I don’t take nothing and I leave everything as it was–”

“You’re lying,” he taps your phone as he frowns, “and you can keep playing wise but I will figure you out.” He grins, “bingo.”

He waves your phone, your wallpaper confirming it’s unlocked. You roll your eyes.

“You should call the police,” you say.

“So you can lie your way out of this? No thanks,” he swipes as he puts his hand on his hip and turns away. He stops pacing and brings the phone closer to his face. He grimaces, “you're a sick bitch, aren’t you?”

He tuts and shows you the image of Steve fucking his one night stand. You laugh. “Me? What about your friend?”

“I’d say the fact you recorded it is a lot more fucked up than him having a bit of fun,” he snorts, “you’re sly. I saw your equipment.”

“Thanks,” you say smartly.

“You’re not making this easy on yourself,” he says.

“Well, you got your evidence so… police?” you divert.

“You know what the police do to stalkers? Nothing,” he sneers.

“Stalker? I told you, I’m a squatter–”

“Enough with that,” he points at you sharply and goes back to scrolling, “hmm,” he hums then says your name aloud, grinning up at you.

“So.. if no cops, what are you going to do?” you finally let yourself ask.

“I know how to handle things internally,” he says, “so don’t you worry.”

“Are you going to call Steve?”

“Steve?” he scoffs, “you speak as if you know him. You don’t know shit. And no, got a lot more things more important than you.” He runs his gloved fingers over his stubble as the dimple in his chin deepens, “I gotta do some running around.”

“I thought you were here to water the plants,” you taunt.

“The ferns can wait,” he says, “you just sit pretty and I’ll be back soon.”

He tucks your phone in his jacket and grabs his keys from where he dropped them on the table. He disappears into the hall and you heave. Well, what the fuck do you do now?

The door snaps shut, the beep of the security system follows, and you’re left in silence. You look around the open dining room, the kitchen visible just through the next doorway. You pull at your hands, the belt digging into your wrists. You wriggle, the chair wobbling, as you try to twist your ankles free.

You grunt in frustration as helplessness floods your chest. The chair tilts forward and you panic, swing back too hard and tip it over completely. Your head hits the floor above the back and it leaves you dizzy as you blink away stars.

“Shittttttt!” you yell at the ceiling.

📷

Bucky finds you on the floor. He does nothing to help as you crane to watch him. He puts down a black bag before he nears. He stands by the legs of the chair and kicks the bottom of the seat with his boot.

“Bored?” he teases, “restless, maybe?”

“I need to piss,” you huff, not a full out lie.

“You can wait,” he leaves you there and you listen to his footfalls in dread. The whisper of the zipper as he stops. The rustle of unseen objects, pages flipping as his sole squeaks.

‘I saw him again today,’ Bucky begins, ‘but he didn’t see me. He never does. I wonder how. Maybe I’m just that invisible.

But I see him. I see everything he does. Even when he’s not there, I can’t stop. I think about him all the time. Sometimes I pretend my toys are him. Touching me, though I know he never will–”

“Stop,” you growl, “now.”

‘It used to be that I’d imagine anyone. Any man touching me, but now the thought of anyone else disgusts me.’

You’re quiet, humiliated. More angry than anything. You want to strangle him. You want to smack the smug look off your face you imagine in tandem with his mocking tone.

“Stop,” you say again, “you think I don’t know what I am. Obviously, I know. I’m stupid enough to write it down.”

He laughs and you hear the journal hit the table. He strides around the chair and stands beside you. He watches you, squats to look you in the face.

“No, I don’t think you realise how fucking sad you are,” he says, “how pathetic.”

“You think you’re the first to tell me,” you sneer, “I know, asshole. But I never hurt anyone and wasn’t going to start. I just watch–”

“Break and enter as well, huh?” He smirks, “I mean, you can tell a lot about a person by where they live. Found out a hell of a lot about you, doll.”

“Don’t call me that,” you hiss.

“Small place,” he stands, “cramped. Guess a rat like you doesn’t need much. Couple packs of ramen and a bottle of vodka. I had better rations in 1944.”

“What about Hydra? They feed you well?” you retort. He’s silent. “Hit a soft spot? I’m sure a cyborg like you didn’t need much.”

He kicks the chair and it jolts you. It’s your turn to laugh. He puts his foot on the crossbar and swings you back up to four feet. You teeter but stay upright, chafing in your bonds.

“You really are that stupid, aren’t you?” he chides.

You shrug and glance at the wall, “I really do need to piss.”

“You think you’re going to get out of this one?” he asks.

“I just want to go to the–”

“I’m not worried about you making a run for it, doll,” he leans against the table and slides a thumb in his pocket, “I mean, what do you think is going to happen here? You think I’m gonna give you a lecture and let you walk?”

“Haven’t thought about it really,” you say flippantly, “guess I assumed you’d revert a little. Clean up the problem the way you used to do when you had that red star stamped on ya–”

Suddenly, he’s in front of you. His hand is on your throat as he bends to snarl, “shut your fucking mouth or I’m gonna break it.”

You grin as you choke down air and make a show of clamping your lips together. You raise your brows and he stiffly rescinds his hand. He rounds the chair and tears through the tape before unbuckling the belt. Your arms fall loose but he grabs you by the back of your neck, pinching so you cry out and claw at his hand.

“I squeeze any tighter and I’ll do some real damage,” he warns as he guides you to your feet, “then you won’t be running anywhere ever again. Got it?”

“Sure,” you grit out as pain ripples down your spine.

He grunts and urges you into the front room and down the hall. He enters the bathroom with you and flips up the seat. He releases you and takes a step back, a hand on the counter as he stares.

“Um, a bit of privacy?”

“You go now or not at all,” he demands, “so…”

You exhale sharply and turn, unbuttoning your pants as you focus on the wall. You push your jeans down and sit, a slight pause before you manage to trickle out just a little. Your bladder releases and the pressure relents, leaving you lighter but not relieved. You wipe, pull your jeans up as you stand, and flush.

He grabs your arm and yanks you back into the hallway. His metal grip makes your muscles burn as he drags you on. You glance across the front room, the doors not that far.

You push your toe under the carpet so it catches and you stumble, pulling him back with your unexpected falter. “Hey, stay on your f–”

You stomp his toe and he recoils as he grunts. You spin awkwardly, barely staying up right as you scramble away. You knock over the tall vase by the doorway as you flee. He tackles you from behind and you plummet forward, hitting the floor as he lands on you. You wheeze as your ribs ache beneath his weight.

“Jesus, you’re fuckin’ heavy,” you snarl into the hardwood.

“And you’re fucking stubborn,” he raps his knuckles on the back of your skull as he pushes off you. He plants his feet on either side of you and lifts you, both hands on your arms as he steadies you, “stupid, too.”

You scoff as he urges you back down the hall and shoves you through to the dining room. His hand crawls up to your neck and he bends you over the table. You growl and kick out your feet as you pick at his impenetrable grip.

“Like I said, had some running around to do,” he reaches into his bag with his free hand, “got some things to keep you in line.”

He circles his fingers around your wrist and a metal cuff expands around it. Then he does the same to the other. He lets go of you and steps back. You straighten as he takes out his phone and taps the screen, your wrists snap together behind you, as if magnetised. You struggle as the force sets you off kilter.

“Neat little gadget, usually reserved for sinister individuals but they’ll do for you too,” he frames your shoulders and angles you around, urging you back into the chair, “since you want to make this interesting.”

You scowl and say nothing. He really is annoying. He goes back to his bag and reaches in again. He returns to you and secures another pair of cuffs around your ankles. You try to kick out as he does and he squeezes your leg meanly. You snarl and sit back angrily.

He pushes a pin into each leg of the chair and stands. He picks up his phone again and your ankles attach to the wooden legs. He rounds you and parts your wrists, pulling them between the bars and letting them snap back together behind them.

“We’re gonna be here a while and I’m not in the mood to be chasing you around,” he goes to the table and sets his phone down.

He peels off his jacket and drapes it over another chair. He sits and retrieves the cell, his thumb moving lazily across it as he ignores you. You furrow your brow. There’s no give in the restraints.

“Not exactly how I wanted to spend my night,” he grumbles as he smirks at you, “not that I had any plans.”

“No plans? A gem like you? How are the girls not lining up?” you roll your eyes.

“You’re one to talk, aren’t you?” he scoffs.

You shrug and sit back. You’re starting to feel the toll of the night; stuck in that chair, pinned under his weight, the knock to your head. You’re tired but you can’t let him see it.

📷

The smell of food makes your stomach growl. You can’t remember the last time you ate. It’s a bad habit. You eat only when it hurts and it fucking hurts.

Bucky sits at the table with his paper bag and cup and eagerly peers inside. You try not to stare, instead focusing on your lap. You salivate as your guts knot with temptation. You listen to the rustle of wrappers and Bucky moans as he takes his first bite, chewing loudly.

You exhale through tight lips. It’s deliberate, you know it. It’s his specialty, isn’t it? Torture? Cruelty? You peek up from beneath your lashes as he scarfs down a mouthful of fries.

“Oh, you know what,” he sits back and grabs a napkin, wiping his fingertips, “I didn’t even think. I should’ve ordered you some. You must be starving.”

“I’m fine,” you insist as you drop your gaze and your stomach rumbles loudly.

“Sounds like it,” he slurps from his cup, “we’re all human, so if you’re hungry, all you gotta do is ask nicely–”

“Human? You?” you look at his left arm, concealed under his henley and gloves, “sure. I told you, not hungry.”

“Alright,” he grabs the burger and takes another sloppy bite. You turn your face away and ignore the pangs deep in your gut. “You really should consider a bit of common decency,” he says through a mouthful, “make it easy on yourself.”

“Why’s that?” you mutter, shoulders sore from the awkward position as you try not to lean back on your arms.

“I don’t have to be an asshole,” he says.

“Really? You have more than one mode?” you snip.

“What do you think’s gonna happen when Steve gets here?” he asks and shoves the last bit of his burger in his mouth. He watches you as he chews.

“Does it matter? What I think or what happens?” you glower, staring at the faded denim of your jeans. “You saw my apartment, you think I have much to lose?”

“You’re alive,” he ventures.

“If that’s what you call it,” you laugh darkly, “so, that’s it? He’s gonna kill me? You lost your spine or something?”

“You’re pretty self-aware for someone so pathetic,” he remarks as he shovels up more fries.

“My sole virtue,” you say mockingly, “at least I know what I am.”

“Do you? Do you really understand how fucked in the head you are?”

“I should ask you the same,” you counter.

He laughs and scoops up some more fries, “right, well, these next few days are going to be fun.”

He stands and cleans up the garbage, shoving it all into the paper bag. He crumples it as he goes into the kitchen and you hear the lid of the bin as he tosses it. The light flicks off as he returns and he nears you. You sit rigidly as he grabs the back of the chair and tilts it back.

He drags you out of the dining room and into the living room without a word. He shoves the coffee table over with his foot and puts you right in front of the couch. He lets the chair fall to four feet and strides away.

You watch him as he makes up the couch with a sheet tucked around the cushions, a pillow against the arm, and a blanket on top. He pushes his head to one side than the other, a loud crack releases the tension. He sits and unties his boots, sliding them off as he focuses on the task.

He strips down to his briefs and undershirt, as if you’re not even there. He settles onto the couch with a sigh, a bit too big for it but unbothered by that fact. He shifts as he plays with his phone and a voice suddenly rises from the speaker. He puts it on the back of the couch and lets it play, some narrative of a forgotten battle. He folds his arms behind his head and sighs.

“Helps me sleep,” he smirks as he closes his eyes, “might help you too… if you can get comfortable.”

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #mcu #fic #dark!fic #dark fic #avengers #captain america #series #winter soldier #dark!reader #look don't touch

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swastikprofessionals · 1 year ago

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padawan-snack-packer · 2 months ago

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[You Give Them a Hug — Bad Batch (+ Omega!) Edition]

(aka: You broke them. And now they’re in love with you forever.)

So you peeps seemed to love the Clones Edition over here, so here is the Bad Batch version of it!!!

⚠️ TW: Not Canon. Just Vibes. ⚠️

This post contains: – Excessive hugging. – Deeply non-canon affection. – Clones feeling emotions they were not properly equipped to process. – A concerning lack of military professionalism. – Irreversible softness.

If you're looking for canon compliance, emotional restraint, or literally any kind of plot... you're in the wrong galaxy, sweetheart.

This is just me projecting unhinged love onto traumatized war orphans with muscles.

Proceed at your own risk. Hug responsibly. 💥🤗💥

Hunter

You hug Hunter and he just… stops functioning.

Like you initiated it mid-mission and this man has full-on emotion-induced lag.

“...Why’d you do that?”

“Because I wanted to.”

Loading Hunter.exe

He gives you this soft, stunned look like he didn’t know he needed physical affection until just now.

His return hug is slow, careful, warm. His arms wrap around your back and he doesn’t squeeze—he holds.

Stays silent for a moment. Then a low murmur: “...thanks. I needed that.”

From that point on, it’s Hunter Hug Radar Mode™.

You’re sad? He’s already moving.

You’re happy? Hug.

You yawned vaguely near him? “You look tired. C’mere.”

Somehow always smells like leather, dirt, and safety. It's like hugging your childhood treehouse and a protective panther.

Wrecker

OH.

OH YOU’RE IN FOR IT NOW.

You hug Wrecker and he goes FULL GOLDEN RETRIEVER MELTDOWN.

“AWwwwWWWWWWW!!! C’mere!!!”

Picks you up. Swings you. Spins you around until you’re dizzy and giggling and possibly concussed.

His hugs are LIFE-THREATENINGLY STRONG. Like being hit with a loving freight train.

“You’re the best! I’m gonna hug you every day forever now!!”

Immediately makes you a “You Hugged Wrecker” award out of scrap metal. It has glitter glue.

He initiates hugs constantly now. If you don’t hug him back fast enough, he starts whining like a sad bantha.

Tells Crosshair about the hug with tears in his eyes. Crosshair pretends not to care.

“They hugged me, man. Me!! WRECKER!!”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t start crying again.”

Tech

You hug Tech and it’s like hugging a 3D-printed anxiety machine.

Freezes.

“Wh—what are you doing? Is this…physical bonding? Are you malfunctioning? Am I??”

Absolutely stiff as a board. One arm hovers near your back like he's trying to remember what humans do.

You explain it’s just a hug. Tech mutters: “Hmmm. Fascinating. Increases oxytocin. Improves cardiovascular health. Reduces cortisol. Hm.”

But then you do it again.

And he goes quiet.

Softer.

Then his hands gently rest on your back and he melts like butter under a Tatooine sun.

You pull away and he clears his throat 14 times and then gives you a 12-slide presentation on “the measurable benefits of repeat physical affection among squadmates (with graphs).”

Secretly loves it. Won’t say it, but builds you a hug simulator in case he’s unavailable.

Crosshair

Oh.

OH YOU BRAVE, BRAVE FOOL.

You hug Crosshair and it’s like hugging a sniper rifle possessed by the ghost of unresolved trauma.

“...What the kriff are you doing?”

Arms at his sides. Staring down at you like you're a wild animal. Clearly thinking “kill or cuddle?”

You say “just hugging you.” And he just…blinks. Once. Twice.

Then you feel it: the tiniest shift. He leans in. One hand—just one—lands gently at your waist.

It’s not a full hug. It’s not even half a hug.

It’s 0.5 seconds of fragile vulnerability.

Then he pulls back and growls “Don’t make a big deal out of it.” …But his ears are pink. And he doesn’t move away from you for the rest of the day.

Later that week, you find a ration bar left on your bunk. It’s the good flavor.

Written in Sharpie on the wrapper: "Since you like touching people. Here's something to touch your mouth." (he tried)

Echo

Echo is a man held together by trauma, stubbornness, and like...two screws and a charging port.

You hug Echo and it’s like hugging a haunted vending machine with trust issues.

He doesn’t react at first. Just stiffens. Hard. Like his brain didn’t even register this as an available interaction option.

“...Why?” he asks, very quietly. Not suspicious. Not annoyed. Just… genuinely confused. Like he doesn’t think people do that to him anymore.

You say, “Because you deserve it.” And he. Short circuits.

It’s all in the eyes. That distant, shell-shocked clone stare goes soft. And sad. You get half a breath of “I don’t—” before his voice goes hoarse and he just leans in.

One arm—cold metal, whirring servos—wraps around you. The other presses tight, his hand fisting in the back of your shirt like he’s scared you’ll vanish.

His forehead rests on your shoulder. You feel him exhale. And it’s the sound of a man finally letting go of a weight he’s carried since the Citadel.

When he pulls back, his face is unreadable. But he says “...Thanks,” with such quiet, aching sincerity it wrecks you for 48 hours.

The next time you get hurt, Echo’s at your side before the medic droid.

He doesn’t hug you again right away. But he touches your shoulder now. Bumps your arm. Stays close.

Then one day—randomly, silently—he hugs you first. No words. Just that same warm, quiet grip. Like saying: I’m still here. And so are you.

Omega

YOU HUG OMEGA??

SHE SHRIEKS WITH GLEE AND TACKLES YOU LIKE A TINY STAR-WARS THEMED KOALA.

“HUG TIME!!!”

Wraps every limb around you like she’s a baby monkey and you’re a tree.

Refuses to let go for 10 minutes. It’s warm. It’s pure. It’s the most healing hug in galactic history.

Immediately declares you her “hug buddy.”

Makes you a friendship bracelet with “❤️ HUGS THUGS 4 LIFE ❤️” on it.

Tries to get the rest of the squad to join in. “Group hug! Come on! HUNTAH YOU’RE NOT TA COOL FOR LOVE.”

Eventually becomes hug ambassador. Sneak attacks everyone until the whole squad is touch-positive.

Hunter now does “the forehead touch.” Wrecker hugs everyone at breakfast. Tech nods politely and lets her sit in his lap. Crosshair lets her hug him while muttering “don’t tell anyone.”

🧸 BONUS: Bad Batch Group Hug™

You say “GROUP HUG” and Wrecker YEETS HIMSELF AT YOU FIRST.

Omega screams “YESSSS!!” and jumps on like a koala.

Tech mutters “Oh no it’s happening again” and gets absorbed into the chaos.

Crosshair stands two meters away looking like a feral cat. But you hold out your hand and he sighs, grumbles, and slinks in like he’s being drafted into a cult.

It’s warm. It’s slightly sweaty. Someone’s armor is digging into your hip. But everyone’s breathing slows down. There’s peace.

You say “I love you guys” and Hunter goes silent. Then softly replies: “Yeah. You too.”

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matchalovertrait · 5 days ago

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Hopefully this trip yields favorable results! 📊

NOTE: Frankie goes by any and all pronouns; he really doesn't care. She is also fine with being called Fransisca, btw. It doesn't matter to them.

NOTE: This is the "Area69: Mad Scientist Lab" by JoRoderick!

Start from the beginning (Gen 2)

Previous | Next

Transcript

Frankie's House

[When Antonio told Frankie about his plan to dig up more on Alfonso to ensure he stays behind bars, Frankie was elated he’d finally made a choice.]

[It was risky, but better late than never. So far, the search was fruitless, yet Antonio just thought of something Frankie might help him with.]

[Today felt like a good day to inquire as he hauled heavy science equipment into Frankie’s house.]

[After Frankie revolutionized reproductive medicine with science baby technology, they began another endeavor involving a different kind of treatment.]

ANTONIO: When will this medicine be available?

FRANKIE: In our lifetime? It’s improbable. We’re still in the preclinical stage and it doesn’t look promising for the team... funding and ethics-wise.

[They answered with a nervous chuckle.]

FRANKIE: Ergo, if you want to provide me a nibling to raise as my successor, go on ahead.

ANTONIO: And if I don’t want kids either?

FRANKIE: Your kids won’t turn out like our family. Take us for example! We’re more than decent.

ANTONIO: We’re not any better than him if the plan is to fight fire with fire.

FRANKIE: It’s the only way to control him. If the government refuses to fulfill its sole purpose of serving its people, then we must take the initiative.

[Antonio sighed. He was well aware of all that, but he still feared the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree.]

ANTONIO: I have to talk to you about that. First, do you want this next to the skeleton or the waterfall?

FRANKIE: The disrespect! The skeleton has a name.

ANTONIO: I can’t believe I’m younger than you.

FRANKIE: You have no joy. Put the box over there. Simon doesn’t want you near him anyway.

ANTONIO: Tragic.

FRANKIE: Well, what’d you want to discuss? Do you want an army of clones to fight Alfonso? Should we use a freeze ray on him?

[Antonio was grateful Frankie didn’t have access to that kind of technology.]

ANTONIO: As tempting as those sound – no. Do you know anyone associated with Alfonso who might be out of prison?

FRANKIE: No. Your mom said everyone directly involved was either arrested or “taken care of.”

ANTONIO: What about your mom?

[Frankie’s mom was a woman who Alfonso had an affair with.]

FRANKIE: She didn’t play any part. She took her money, left me with you Romeros, and departed.

[It was weird how casually they spoke about these things, but Frankie was also seen as an “investment” or possible pawn before they chose their own path.]

ANTONIO: Maybe she wasn’t directly involved, but she might know something we don’t.

FRANKIE: No, no, no! I know where you’re going with this. Have a safe flight.

ANTONIO: You won’t have to see her. I understand. But I need your guidance. I’ve never been to Colombia before. And I don’t know where she lives.

FRANKIE: That’s too close for comfort. Simon, can you believe the audacity of this kid?

ANTONIO: Where are you going?

FRANKIE: Getting you a map of the area my mom resides in. I hope you have a good raincoat. Come.

ANTONIO: Are you serious about the raincoat?

FRANKIE: Sí, gomelo. Colombia is not a giant rainforest. There are cities and towns just like anywhere else, but she decided to stay somewhere closed off.

ANTONIO: You never told me about this.

FRANKIE: You didn’t ask.

ANTONIO: That’s the Alto logic speaking.

[Both of them laugh.]

ANTONIO: ..Will anybody there think I look like my

#oc mlt: antonio romero #oc mlt: fransisca hernandez #tjolc gen 2 #tjolc #matchalovertrait #sims 4 #ts4 #sims 4 legacy #joy of life legacy #joy of life challenge #alegria legacy

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the-witty-pen-name · 2 months ago

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Everything that I Wanted (5)

Eddie Munson x F!Reader / Billy Hargrove x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Synopsis: Love triangle between your best friend Eddie and your first boyfriend, Billy Hargrove that spans over many years as you get everything you think you ever wanted. However, your life doesn’t play out how you expected it, starting from the first time you’re asked out on a date.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT (piv sex, m masturbation); angst, language, substance use; depictions of a toxic relationship; therapy

A/N: Comments & Reblogs are always appreciated! Please let me know what you think! Thank you so much @munsonsmixtapes @punkrockmlchael @keeryhours for reading this for me & letting me yap to you.

Series Masterlist

Stranger Things Masterlist

Life was changing and it was all happening quickly before Eddie had his I made it moment. The record deal had meant for a really sudden move, whisking Corroded Coffin to the heart of New York. He’d always imagined living anywhere but Hawkins. Never in a million years did he think he’d actually get out. Yet, here he was carrying boxes of his vinyls and clothes into his penthouse apartment. A place he got to share with you- give to you. Listening to you talk excitedly about the plans you had to make this space feel like yours and his? That was the moment he knew.

Eddie insisted on breaking in the new place. And you happily obliged. Eddie ate you out, laying your body down on your kitchen island until your legs were shaky. He bent you over the new couch before it was even fully assembled. He had you on your knees in the shower, his hands tangled in your hair as you swallowed everything he gave you. With swollen lips and messy hair, the two of you ate pizza straight from the box sitting crossed legged on the floor and talked about nothing.

Before either of you realized how fast time was flying by, you found yourself in the front row of Corroded Coffin’s first sold out show. Their first album was a record breaking success- just like you always knew it would be. Eddie’s schedule was getting so busy, between meetings with management teams, interviews, photo shoots… He was always so exhausted when he came home. However, it was everything he ever worked towards- these were the commitments he willingly took on. He wouldn’t trade it for the world.

You’re pressed up against the barricade, the crowd around you roaring with excitement- the energy unlike anything you’d ever experienced. It was exhilarating, seeing thousands of people finally seeing Eddie and your friends exactly like how you’ve seen them. It was incredible to see them getting everything, all of the love, you’ve always known that they’ve deserved. When they finally took the stage, the crowd was so loud- it was a sensation Eddie could see himself becoming addicted to. Your eyes never left him, he was so completely captivating- his confidence, his voice, his fucking hands when he played his guitar.

“I just want to thank everyone for coming out tonight,” he says into the mic, as they near the end of their set. “Just, fuck- we’re from a small ass town in Indiana and never in my fucking life did I ever think we’d play a crowd this big.” The crowd erupts into loud cheers and you feel that you’ve lost your voice from singing and yelling along the entire show. Your hands are sore from how hard you’d been clapping. “Um, yeah,” Eddie says, clearly speaking off the cuff, “But there’s one person here tonight- and we just wanted to take a second to thank her.”

Eddie scans the front row, trying to find you again despite the harsh stage lights. His eyes light up when he sees you, and he winks. He chuckles to himself, before finding the mic again. “My girlfriend- the gorgeous girl over there in the front row? She has been our number one fan since day one- supported us no matter what. Whether it was listening to us rehearse in Gareth’s garage when we sounded like shit, or helping us lug equipment in and out of shitty bars during awful time slots- I just, we wouldn’t be here performing for you and doing what we love without her.”

“All the lyrics you sang along to tonight… they’re about her. Every love song, everything I’ve written- it all comes back to her. She’s my muse- always has been. Long before she even knew how I felt- God, she’s just my everything.”

He picks the mic off of the stand, walking with his hand in the back pocket of his black jeans. He’s making his way over towards you, and for a moment- it feels like it’s suddenly just the two of you. The crowd is screaming, and cheering but you can’t hear them- it’s like it’s all fading into the background. “I love you, sweetheart,” Eddie says sincerely, a shy smile gracing his pretty face. He can’t hear you because it’s too loud, but he can see your lips move as you return the sentiment.

He leans over, bowing his torso down so he can have his face closer to yours. He holds the microphone up, so everyone can hear what he is about to say, but all he’s looking at is you. He says your name, and it makes your heart skip. Is he?

“Will you marry me?”

You feel tears well in the corner of your eyes, you’re so overwhelmed with emotion that you’re momentarily stunned. You can’t help yourself as you stare at him and smile like an idiot. You manage to nod your head, and you manage a coarse “yes.” His eyes brighten, leaning forward to press his lips to yours, careful to not fall off of the stage. The screams from the crowd are deafening, as Jeff and Grant encourage them to yell louder as Gareth bangs on his drums celebratorily.

Time feels much slower when you’re living alone, working to make your rent by picking up overtime at every opportunity. That was Billy’s new life that he felt like he was adjusting to well enough. As long as he’s keeping himself busy, he can do his best to fend off the loneliness. It surprises him how much the isolation he craved is slowly eating at him. No one here knows him. He makes small talk with the other mechanics, and he’ll go with the guys from work to the bar some nights- it’s just all so superficial.

Most nights he’s just home, staying up late watching tv because he doesn’t want to be alone with his thoughts. Falling asleep on his couch night after night is messing up his neck but he can’t bring himself to go to bed. He doesn’t want to lay in bed in the quiet. He’ll take the stiff neck and sore arm any day over the nightmares he can’t seem to shake.

He’s dozing off when he hears something that makes his ears perk up. It’s some award show, he’s not really sure which one- something music related. He sits up, rubbing his sore eyes as he forces himself to stare at the glow of the tv. Standing together on the red carpet, he doesn’t believe his eyes- you and Eddie. He’s convinced he’s dreaming, his exhausted mind playing tricks on him.

You look so different, but he knows he’d recognize you anywhere. These past couple of years have been good to you- you’re absolutely stunning. He can’t believe that you’re the same girl he once knew- or thought he knew. Suddenly, he feels like he’s back on the pavement where Eddie knocked him down. The sting suddenly feels fresh again.

The dress you're wearing is showing off your body, and he smiles to himself for just a second as he witnesses the confidence you’ve gained. It’s almost compulsive, the way his mind shifts, not letting him dwell on anything that he’s feeling. He can’t interpret how he feels, he can’t let himself acknowledge anything. He instead focuses his eyes on you again, raking over your body, and remembering how it felt.

God the things he’d wanted and never got with you. He’s too tired and lonely to think about what he’s doing when he pushes his boxers down. He spits in his hand, and pumps his cock- watching you in that fucking dress. He doesn’t even give a fuck that Eddie is there, that he’s the one who actually gets you and touches you like how he wants. He’s so focused on you and desperate for a little release. He’s picturing how he’d peel off that dress, mess up your styled hair, and make your makeup run.

He can practically feel you, perched on his lap. He can imagine the silk of your dress on his fingertips as he holds the soft flesh of your hips. He can hear your sounds, the way you respond to his touch. He can feel the way your chest pressed against his, your hands tangled in his hair. He bites his lip, continuing to pretend his hand is you, as he focusing his eyes back to the tv.

That’s when he notices the ring on your finger. He shouldn’t let himself go there- but for the briefest of moments the thoughts slip past. What if it was him? What if instead, you were marrying him? For the shortest of moments he leans into that fantasy and before he can even anticipate it, he’s panting and finishing on his stomach and on his hand. He feels immediate regret when the loneliness creeps back in. He shouldn’t have fucking done that.

He needs something- he knows he needs help. See someone about his problems or whatever. He begins going to therapy, every Tuesday morning- begrudgingly, even though he wants to be there. He sits on the uncomfortable couch awkwardly, faced with questions about his childhood and his issues that he hates being confronted with. Sometimes, he says practically nothing in his sessions and sometimes the 50 minutes is up before he even realizes it. This most recent session left him feeling furious.

He’s angry. He’s angry with his dad, he’s angry at Eddie, he’s angry at you- just upset about the world and his life. He’s pissed at the hand he was dealt, how much it fucked him up. He can’t let himself feel anything. His therapist suggested that he uses sex as a mechanism. A means to avoid his own thoughts- an escape to prevent him from feeling anything for too long. It hit a sore spot with Billy, because deep down, he knew it was right, but he didn’t want to admit to it.

So he slips right back into the routine, after work he meets up with some guys at the bar. He drinks until he can barely function, and finds the first girl who is willing to sleep with him. He doesn’t even learn her name before he’s guiding her head down to suck his dick. He just needs to feel something- anything other than the thoughts he’s running from. She’s good- really good. He can close his eyes, lean his head back against the locked door and think about nothing.

He continues the cycle. He continues to go to therapy, even though he’s not sure why. He ignores any advice his therapist offers. Any attempt to break down his walls, just leaves him feeling even more defensive and angry. He’s smoking more- at least a pack a day, drinking more, and the hook-ups are becoming a regular part of his routine. Most nights, he’s bringing someone home- to kick them out almost immediately after. He can’t sleep in a bed with someone else, not when all he can see or think about is you when the night finally stills.

All of it worked for a while, the distractions keeping the thoughts at bay. But it was as though he was building up a tolerance to it all. And they couldn’t numb him as well as they used to. Before he knew it, he was seeing you everywhere- and the guilt of how he treated you was eating him alive.

Suddenly, the girls in his bed all look like you- he can’t shake the image of you from his mind. He was never that vocal in bed, but now he needs to stop himself from moaning your name. Then, it begins to show up at his job. At the shop, he was speaking to a woman on the phone about her car and she sounded like you. Then, he sees you at the bar in every girl even though you aren’t there. There’s a girl with her back to him, chatting with someone, and he has to stop himself when he realizes yet again, she’s not you.

It started to get really bad when he began seeing you in his dreams. Sometimes it would be innocent enough, you’d be like passing extra in the background and he couldn’t even be totally sure it was you. Other times, it would be debauched- him fucking you roughly into his mattress, watching tears prick in the corner of eyes as you looked up at him with those pretty eyes. Then, the dreams become nightmares. His guilt bubbling up to the surface and he’d be forced to face it head on.

In his dream, the memory of how much he scared you floods back. Your scared, timid demeanor and he doesn’t know what he said or did to make you look like that. The dreams don’t make sense, they just make him feel panicked. He always wants to apologize, speak to you- say anything, but in his dreams, the words always fail. It’s like he’s paralyzed, feeling trapped in one place as the memories swirl and distort around him. Sometimes Eddie’s there- both of you, laughing and belittling him for how pathetic he’s become. The two of you gang up to kick him while he’s down, and he knows that he deserves it so he lets it happen.

“So how long had you been seeing this girl?” His therapist asks, jotting down some notes as Billy just finished recounting everything- finally laying it all out on the table. He couldn’t take it anymore. He tells him everything.

“Uh, the first half of my senior year of high school.” Billy says, wiping his face with his hands, trying his best to remember the timeline of events. “Just a few months, really.”

“That’s not really a long time,” he muses, and Billy fights the urge to roll his eyes. No shit. “Why do you think she had that much of an impact? Is there something you feel guilty about?” Billy shrugs, not knowing how to even begin the explanation. He knows how he feels, he knows he was wrong- but how do you communicate that- that feeling.

He’s so frustrated, everything just piling up inside him, and he can’t fucking put it anywhere. His mind just goes blank whenever he tries to put it into words. He hates sitting with this feeling, and he’s fighting back the urge to storm out. He shakes his leg anxiously, wanting badly to rush outside so he can smoke.

Despite the elaborate proposal, you and Eddie wanted a really simple wedding. Corroded Coffin had been everywhere, and they’d been working such long hours. Eddie was constantly doing press, or working late nights in the studio. You both wanted the day to be as relaxed as possible. Eddie and you decided to go home, a trip to Hawkins to flee the paparazzi and the responsibilities of life. Plus, you hadn’t seen the house Eddie had built for Wayne in person yet.

The backyard was gorgeous, with lots of trees and a garden Wayne had taken on as a project. It was perfect, and you found yourself thinking about how much it felt like home. The hats that lined the walls, the photos on every surface… all of the pieces of life from their trailer finally had space to spread out and breathe in new air. It made your heart ache for Hawkins for the first time in a really long time. It felt so bittersweet being back here, even if only for a little while.

Surrounded by family and your closest friends, you and Eddie shared vows under a tree strung with fairy lights on a really warm summer night. You couldn’t look at anything else, despite the small crowd of family and friends, all you could see was Eddie. Your Eddie, with his unruly curls tamer for once and his soft brown eyes, looking back at you like you're the only girl in the world. How could you have ever thought your life would be anything besides you and him?

You’d always been someone who would think anywhere but here when you thought of your hometown. But tonight, it’s not so bad- wonderful even. It took moving away for you to see how much it was a part of you. Part of you, a part that you kept buried deep down, didn’t want to go back to New York, back to the busy life, the hectic schedules, the paparazzi. But, watching Eddie- smiling ear to ear talking so happily about his band, his music, how proud everyone is of him- you couldn’t take that away from him. You were so happy, you can’t imagine your life being anything else.

“I always knew it was going to be you,” Wayne says, pulling you up close to dance with you. It makes you smile widely, your grin meeting his.

“You knew?” You giggle, wondering how many people saw Eddie’s heart on his sleeve before you ever realized.

“From the very first day,” Wayne says matter of factly, pride in his voice. He glances over to Eddie, happy tears welling in his eyes. “I’m just so happy you too found each other.”

Billy rubs his temples, trying to wrap his head around what his therapist just confronted him with. How the hell is he supposed to know the answer? The impact you had? How the fuck is he supposed to answer that?

“I don’t know, she was nice to me, I guess,” Billy grumbles, “She, like, cared about what I had to say and like- wanted to show me stuff she liked.”

“Have other people in your life done that for you?” He asks, tapping the pencil on the edge of his notepad. Billy hates this format. This guy knows the answer is no, Billy knows that the answer is no. Yet, he has to sit here and act like it’s some revelation. It’s pissing him off more than anything.

“No.”

“Maybe you feel regret or guilt about something you said or did?”

No fucking shit. Billy shrugs.

“Walk me through why you broke up,” he says, his tone neutral.

“Um, she liked some other guy,” Billy scoffs, “they’re getting married now, or are married- I don’t know.”

“Is there any more? Tell me about what she said to you.”

“Um, this guy- he was like one of her friends, and like, I knew he liked her- when we were together, like I knew he wanted her and it really pissed me off. So, like, I didn’t want her hanging out with him. And we fought about that- like a lot. Then, uh, yeah- she broke up with me for him.”

“It hurts when someone you love doesn’t reciprocate your feelings,” the therapist states. Billy’s posture straightens. Panic begins to settle in. Nope, he’s not going there. “It’s normal to feel hurt, or maybe you felt betrayed…”

“No, no- I’m not in love with her,” Billy is quick to say. “It’s not that- this thing was so long ago. Trust me, it’s not that.”

“Well, it sounds like you were in love with her at one time,” the therapist recounts. “It’s sounds like you’re feeling some remorse… if you can, can you recall what happened when she broke up with you?”

Billy winces, he fucking hates reliving it. It’s been plaguing him for weeks, and even bringing it up now is making anxiety fester inside his gut.

“I scared her,” he confesses, finally saying something- finally acknowledging it out loud. “Um, she turned to walk away, and I just- I panicked, I grabbed her arm- I- fuck, I grabbed her arm really hard, it was so fucked up. But, I couldn’t think. Then, Eddie- he punched me.”

“What were you thinking when you grabbed her arm?”

“Just that I didn’t want her to leave, she just- I didn’t want her to walk away and I just panicked. I honestly, don’t really think I was thinking- it was just- I don’t know… fear.”

“What were you afraid of?”

Billy can’t answer that, there’s so much going on in his head right now. He thought therapy was supposed to be helpful but this conversation is just making him feel so much worse. He’s uncomfortable, and he can’t let himself sit here with this pain. He’s not ready yet.

What was he afraid of? Fucking everything! He’s walking around terrified all the fucking time and no one seems to care. His whole life he’s felt like this- how is he supposed to know any different? Of course he was afraid of losing the one person besides his mom to ever once show him a little bit of love…

Fuck, maybe he is still in love with you.

He practically knocks over the coffee table inadvertently when he rushes out mid session but he can’t physically take it anymore. He needs to get out of the room. He ignores his therapist telling him to stay. He’s feeling suffocated. He needs to get out of here. He needs to take his mind off of this before he spirals. He needs anything- something to just made the thoughts just fucking stop.

“Have a nice day,” he hears a sweet voice say as he’s walking out. It makes him pause. Billy knew the receptionist here would flirt with him every time, but he’s ignored it. He couldn’t do that here- he never let himself entertain the thought. He turns to smile at her. She’s pretty, and he thinks she’ll be the perfect distraction for him. He saunters over, leaning an arm on the ledge of the desk.

“I’m Billy,” he smiles, and when the blush rises on her cheeks he knows this will play out exactly like he wants.

“I’m Megan,” she smiles back at Billy. He doesn’t miss how her eyes trail down and back up his body. It makes his chest swell with pride.

Eddie’s hands haven’t left your body most of the evening. His hands slide around your waist, rub your back, or his arm rests protectively around your shoulder.

“God, my wife is so pretty,” Eddie muses, his mouth close to your ear so no one else can hear. His voice is low and gravely- making you shiver. “I love you so much,” he says, kissing your cheek. “Can’t wait to get you alone, sweetheart. I need you so bad.”

Her lips are on his the very second the door of the supply closet latches shut. Locking the door behind them, Billy’s hands work to quickly pull open her blouse. Her hands greedily run up his torso, freely exploring his toned chest. It feels good, but it’s not enough to shake the thoughts of you- not yet. He needs more.

When you’re finally alone, Eddie’s quick to lay you on the bed of your hotel room- kissing all over your neck and chest. “Love you so much, drive me fucking crazy,” he muses, his lips hot on your skin.

“Fuck, Eds,” you whine, tangling your hands in his hair. “Love you too.”

“My wife is so fucking perfect,” he mumbles against your skin, unclasping your bra and his mouth wraps around your nipple, making you moan contently.

Her skirt is bunched at her waist, and her chest is pressed against the wall of the closet. He’s trying to focus on anything except the thoughts of you that keep swarming around in his head. He tries to think about her skin, her hushed moans and whimpers, the way she’s taking his cock… but it’s no use. His thrusts become harder and more sporadic, a desperate attempt to push the thoughts away.

He closes his eyes shut tightly, and he’s drowning out her moans by placing his hands on her mouth. She responds to it well, and he smirks to himself. He’s breathing heavy and he knows he’s close. He just needs to feel the release, the pressure inside him is building up too much and he just needs those few seconds of escape to feel something else- even if briefly.

“I have such a sexy husband,” you tease, pushing Eddie down gently so his back rests against the headboard. You smirk, watching his cheeks flush red. You know you’ll never get sick of that look. You straddle his waist and his hands find your hips. Your chests pushed flushed together, holding each other close.

You sigh softly as you sink down onto his length. You rest your hands on his shoulders as you find your pace- slow and loving, taking your time to feel absolutely every part of him. He groans, his hands grabbing the flesh of your ass and squeezing. Your dress is in a heap on the floor, and his suit pieces on the ground make a trail to where you both are on the bed.

“Mhmm Billy,” she moans, trying to keep her voice down, but she’s struggling. He reaches around and teases her nipple, tugging in a way that makes her eyes roll back.

“Fuck,” he pants, struggling because he feels so close but he can’t fucking finish. He’s never had this problem before. He tilts his head back, biting his lip, trying to focus on the feeling of her- how tight she is. He feels her clench around him as she orgasms.

He needs to get himself there. He can’t figure out why he’s having so much trouble. He quickens his thrusts, sweat drops down his forehead and he tries to let himself relax- he shuts his brain off, hoping to find his release he’s chasing desperately.

“I love you so fucking much baby,” Eddie whines, his lips finding that one spot on your neck that drives you absolutely wild. You gasp at the sensation as he bites down on your skin, sending shivers up your spine.

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and you bury your face in the crook of his neck. It feels too good, it’s becoming too much. You whimper as he coaxes you through it, whispering sweet nothings in your ear and rubs your back as you continue to grind against him.

“Eddie… I’m gonna cum,” you moan, your panting breath feels hot in his ear. He holds you close, wrapping his arms around you. He thrusts up into you, hitting your g spot so perfectly that it makes your jaw drop and your eyes roll back. You cry out and clench around him as you cum, it takes all of your energy so your body is like putty in his hands.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” he praises. “Fuck,” he groans, his own orgasm following quickly after yours. He rests his head on your shoulder, and he kisses you there.

Shit, he’s thinking about you again. Billy can’t stop himself as he finally lets himself indulge in the thoughts. You’re with him and he imagines what it would be like if she was you. He can hear you, and imagines your voice when he closes his eyes. God, you’re so fucking beautiful. Everything about you, it just fills up all of his senses. Just like that, the familiar feeling stirs inside him. He’s so close, teetering on the edge, and he lets himself continue to fall into his thoughts.

“Fuck… baby, I love you, fuck- fuck-” he gasps, not realizing the words are spilling out of his mouth until he says your name.

His eyes widened, pulling out so quickly and tucking himself back into his pants. He needs to get the fuck out of this closet, he suddenly feels so claustrophobic- he needs to leave. He needs fresh air. He feels like he can’t breathe. He doesn’t even acknowledge Megan as she calls after him, confused at his sudden switch up.

TAGLIST: @fandom-princess-forevermore @sunshinepeachx @downbear @fanlifeaamt @exploding-bonbon @losingmygrasponreality @skiddypiddy @andvys @djodirt @moonlightsolo @kyga01 @sheisjoeschateau @melaninjhs @v3lv3tf0x @purpleeyeswithgoldensparkles @sunshine-mrk @danymunsonharrington @mrsjellymunson @fanficfantik @the-unforgivenn @punkrockmlchael @spookysace24 @crispystarfishhottub @4billy @let-love-bleeds-red@supersecretsamm @e-c-a-r-l-a-t-e @melvin333 @mmmunson @daryldixonswifesworld

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eretzyisrael · 3 days ago

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THURSDAY HERO: Nancy Wake

Nancy Wake was a gutsy journalist from Australia who became a leader of the Allied resistance and killed a Nazi with her bare hands.

Born in New Zealand in 1912, Nancy was raised in Sydney. She ran away from home at age 16 and went to London, where she became a self-taught journalist.

As a young woman, Nancy described herself as someone who loved nothing more than a “good drink and handsome men, especially French men.” In 1930 she married Henri Edmond Fiocca, a wealthy French industrialist.

During the 1930’s Nancy worked for Hearst newspapers as a European correspondent. Stationed in Vienna, Nancy witnessed the rise of Nazism. She was shocked to see roving gangs of Nazis beating up Jews, and never forgot the sight of Jews chained to massive wheels and rolled through the streets. She later said, “I resolved there and then that if I ever had the chance I would do anything to make things more difficult for their rotten party.”

Nancy became a courier for the French resistance. Speaking perfect French, she worked with the “maquis” – guerrilla bands of resistance fighters. After Germany invaded France, she helped Allied POW’s and other personnel escape the country.

The Gestapo called Nancy the “White Mouse.” They tapped her phone and intercepted her mail. Nancy’s life was in constant danger.

Nancy described her method of avoiding detection by the Germans: “A little powder and a little drink on the way, and I’d pass their German posts and wink and say, ‘Do you want to search me?’ God, what a flirtatious little bastard I was.”

Nancy led repeated attacks on Gestapo headquarters. By 1943, she was the most wanted resistance fighter, with a 5 million franc price on her head.

After Nancy’s maquis network was betrayed, she fled France. Her husband stayed behind, and he was captured, tortured and killed by the Gestapo. Nancy, on her way across the Pyrenees to Spain, was unaware of her husband’s death until after the war.

In 1944, Nancy parachuted into France. Her assignment involved collecting and distributing arms and equipment that were sent in by parachute. Nancy was a highly successful recruiter, and is credited with bringing 7500 fighters into the resistance.

From April 1944 until the liberation of France in August 1944, Nancy’s band of maquisards fought 22,000 German soldiers, causing 1400 casualties while sustaining only 100 of their own.

At one point, Nancy killed an SS guard with her bare hands to stop him from raising the alarm during a raid. She later described how she did it, “They’d taught this judo-chop stuff with the flat of the hand at SOE [special operations training] and I practiced away at it. But this was the only time I used it – whack – and it killed him all right. I was really surprised.”

Another time, Nancy’s wireless operator was shut down in a German raid, and she rode her bicycle over 300 miles through German checkpoints to deliver the secret codes.

After the war, Nancy was awarded the United States Medal of Freedom, the Medaille de la Resistance, and the Croix de Guerre, among many other honors.

Nancy continued to work as an intelligence agent. She married a Royal Air Force officer in 1957 and for the next several decades they divided their time between London and Australia. Nancy’s autobiography, The White Mouse, was published in 1985 and became a bestseller.

Nancy’s husband died in 2001, and she returned to London permanently. She lived at the Stafford Hotel near Picadilly, her expenses largely paid for by the hotel’s owners, who were honored to host a renowned heroine. She could be found every morning at the hotel bar, drinking her first gin and tonic of the day.

Nancy died in 2011 at age 98. Her remarkable story has been the subject of multiple biographies and television mini-series.

For fighting the good fight against the Nazi war machine, we honor Nancy Wake as this week’s Thursday Hero.

#Thursday Hero

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xlocalxpunkx · 9 months ago

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I’m Your Man, 18+

Logan Howlett x Mutant!AFAB! Reader

Warnings: Angsty, mentions of abuse, established relationship, toxic! Cheater! Logan, crying, breaking up, death, mentions old man! Logan, sexual themes, 18+, no pronouns used but you do have his kid so afab, trust the process pls

Summary: Logan is wallowing as he ages about his regretful relationship with you. He begs you to take him back after years have passed.

Inspo: I’m Your Man- Lucas Silveira

If you want a lover, I'll do anything you ask me to

It all started gradually. Your relationship with Logan was odd when you first met him. He was a cage fighter. You attended those fights with your abusive ex. The nights usually ended badly, your ex never seeming to want to bid on Logan’s behalf despite his reputation. The night they had lost their bet after almost 10 days in a row, they had turned their anger on you. It wasn’t the first time, but it was the last. Logan had stepped in, and almost killed them. He couldn’t stand seeing such a darling thing like you get beat on for no fucking reason. From then on, you were inseparable. You didn’t have anywhere else to go, so Logan took you with him.

And if you want another kind of love, I'll wear a mask for you

Logan didn’t want a relationship with you. You were his friend; compassionate, loving, doting. He could hear your heart beat race when you were near him. He could smell you when your blood soared downward. He couldn’t resist the temptation though. Your hands snaked through his hair, drunk from the bar he was fighting at that night. The heated kiss you shared changed everything. You were embarrassed about it the next day, but Logan brushed it off. He didn’t want to ruin what you two had, or draw you into his hellscape life.

If you want a partner, take my hand

The day Logan asked you to be his, you practically screamed in excitement. You threw your arms around his neck, pressing kisses all over his face. He chuckled, holding you against him. Your scent calmed him down. He would hold you forever if he could. You were his, he was yours. He would show it every time you were out. Holding your hand, your waist, whatever he could touch on you. Almost as if he was making sure you were real, despite being right in front of him. You knew his mutation, you had no fear of him. You were a mutant too, after all. Not as equipped as him, but you could make plants grow. It added literal life to your life. It was calming for you.

Or if you want to strike me down in anger, here I stand

Months and months together, Logan’s demeanor changed. He was loving one moment, vicious the next. You had intimate moments with him, vulnerable ones. Each time he opened up to you, each time you got a little closer to the enigma of Logan Howlett, he pushed you away. Screaming, snappy remarks, taking others and making you wait outside a motel room you shared in the cold. You listened to every minute of it, wondering what you did wrong to deserve this. You’d grow flowers in the dirt outside, twisting their petals and asking yourself why. Everything he could do to push you away, he did.

I'm your man

The day he found you crying in the bathroom because of him, he knew he needed to stop. Something in him wouldn’t let him though. He screamed at you, telling you that you were worthless. That you were the worst thing to ever happen to him. The opposite was true, but Logan didn’t want you to know that he’d do anything for you. That with one word, he’d wipe out all of humanity and the mutants for you. That night, you walked out that door, never wanting to see Logan ever again. His handsome face, his broad shoulders, his defined torso. Everything about him disgusted you.

If you want a boxer, I will step into the ring for you

Logan threw himself into the fights after that. He didn’t care. After you left, he had absolutely nothing. Unfortunately for him, he couldn’t die. Sometimes he’d throw a fight, just to feel pain, and it didn’t do anything but reveal his abilities and make him skip to the next town. That was where he found Rogue. That was when he ended up at the mansion.

And if you want a doctor, I'll examine every inch of you

Charles had brought in a patient after a rough mission. You were battered, injured and bloody from a fight with human mutant-exterminators. They had stalked you, figured out you were just a ‘tree-hugger’ but when they tried to attack you, a rage you hid for so long released itself. You killed all of them. Every single one. They kept coming, and coming, yet you drove them back. When Logan heard Jean talking about a patient, who sounded suspiciously like you, he asked if he could check in on you. He only wanted to confirm his curiosity, not telling the rest of them what his thoughts were. Charles knew. He only hoped you would be okay to see him, hoping you could help the Wolverine more than he could.

If you want a driver, climb inside

You felt claustrophobic in the mansion. He was there when you woke up. He was always there. Wandering around the mansion, you knew he was only 15 feet behind you. Surrounded by people worshipping the ground your now ex walked on. He remained a stand-offish asshole to everyone, saving a snide remark for Scott every now and then. He was brisker than usual, angrier. You wouldn’t talk to him. That was, until you had a panic attack at 2 A.M. You were hyperventilating, on the verge of collapse. Logan had heard it, and came to your rescue. You found yourself clinging to his broad frame, crying into his tank top. You were sobbing and shaking. He offered to take you for a drive, roll the windows down and let you get some fresh air. You felt at peace in his familiar truck. You almost forgot everything he did to you. A low, “I’m sorry… for everything, love.” whispered into the wind. You gave no response.

Or if you want to take me for a ride, you know you can, 'cause I'm your man

The two of you bonded over the next year at the mansion. Logan made every move he could to make up what he did to you. He brought you flower seeds, your favorites, for you to grow. He made you food. He comforted you after your nightmares and calmed you down when your anxiety got the best of you. A sweet moment, the two of you alone in the common room at midnight after another bout of nightmares between you both. Hand in hand, a slow moving love. Logan was the best you ever had, and still is. The gentle kisses, the soft grips, you truly thought he had changed.

Ah, the moons too bright, the chains too tight

Logan didn’t know what it was about committing to you that made him so scared. He didn’t want to put a label on what you had. He shouldn’t have done it. He really shouldn’t have. When you walked in on him kissing Jean, you didn’t know why you didn’t expect it to happen. He had done this before. You slapped him, screamed at him like you never had the courage to before. You left the mansion, going back out on your own. Charles refused to locate you, to tell Logan you were safe. You were fine, especially without him.

The beast won't go to sleep

Logan couldn’t sleep after you left. He laid awake in the bed he once shared with you. Regret and sorrow filled his body, shame filled his soul. He didn’t know why he was like this. He refused to touch another woman after that. He wanted you, only you. Being celibate was easy enough. Most women don’t like being compared to someone outright to their face. He was deliberately an asshole, even to Jean.

I've been running through these promises to you, that I made and could not keep

He looked back on every promise he made you. Every ‘I’ll get better’, ‘I won’t do it again, yet he continued to do it. Only once you left, did he seem to realize what you meant to him. You stayed for years, despite his behavior. You took him back once, but he knows you would never take him back again. Maybe if he was dying, but he wasn’t dying anytime soon. He missed you; your smile, your smell, your hair. Fuck, he missed everything about you.

Ah, but a man never got a woman back, not by begging on his knees

As Logan aged, his regenerative abilities wearing off, he yearned to have you by his side. He wanted love. The true, pure love you had already showed him, but he was too young and naive to take. He wanted nothing more than to find you, to live out the rest of his life with you. To have you in the mornings, nights, and afternoons. To sleep by your side, to eat by your side, to be next to you. All he could think about was you.

I'd crawl to you, baby, and I'd fall at your feet

While he was doing his job as a chauffeur, Logan thought he caught a glimpse of you. Your back turned to him, sitting at a table by yourself. You were drinking coffee, playing with the petals of a singular flower. He slammed on his brakes. Luckily, he didn’t have a passenger. He pulled over into a parking lot. Quickly, he climbed out of the vehicle. A wicked grin spread across his features with every step he took towards you. You barely looked any different. A few lines around your eyes and mouth, showing you had aged just as he had. He tentatively took a few more steps towards you, gently asking, “Is this seat taken?”.

You were taken aback by the familiar voice. You had almost forgotten the shivers it sent down your spine. “What’re you doing here?” You questioned. When you turned to him, expecting the once young man you had left, and saw the rugged, bearded old man in front of you, you gasped. He nodded, looking down, ashamed to see the hurt in your eyes still upon seeing him.

“Saw you, wanted to say hello. I understand if you don’t want me around. I’ll leave.” He stated, quietly. You could see the sadness in him, the loneliness. He had aged, aged well, but still aged. He seemed tired, the grooves in his face deep and eye bags prominent. You were both too old to care about what happened in this past anymore.

“Join me.” You commanded. You tapped the table for the seat across from you. Logan gave you a soft smile, gingerly taking the seat. The two of you caught up. He told you everything that happened from the minute you left the mansion to why he was here talking to you now. He told you about the adamantium poisoning, how he was aging. He told you about Charles. You told him about your life, everything about it and how you had missed him.

I'd howl at your beauty, like a dog in heat

You had given Logan your cell phone number in case he needed someone to talk to, to vent to. You reckoned he would never use it, but still, the offer stood. Logan kept playing in his head what to text, when to text. It had been a few weeks before you heard from him again. Your phone pinged,

‘You are still as beautiful as the day you left’

A choked smile spread across your face. Despite everything, Logan still gave you butterflies. He could make you blush, even as you got old. You took the initiative, texting him, asking him to meet up for drinks. Your heart spun, excited to him again.

And I'd claw at your heart, I'd tear at your sheets

The night you met for drinks, he clung to your side. Just like he used to do, hand on your waist, knees touching yours. When you got tipsy and one of your hands found its way into petting his hair, he couldn’t help the moan that let out at the physical contact. He hadn’t touched anyone since you left. He hasn’t cuddled or been loved. You suppressed giggles, before returning to his hair again. You took him to your home as midnight drew closer. With promises of a comfy couch to crash on and breakfast in the morning, Logan couldn’t refuse the offer. Somehow, someway, you ended up in bed together. Whether it was drunk or true intentions, you both enjoyed yourself more than you have in years.

I'd say please, please, 'cause I'm your man

When you awoke, you were curled up into the large man’s side. Head on his chest, you listened to his soft snores. His arm wrapped around you, bringing you closer to him. You smiled, closing your eyes again. The next time you woke up, it was because of Logan twitching. A grunt. A snarl. You gently shook him awake. His eyes snapped open, claws unsheathing. He relaxed the minute he realized it was you, putting the claws away. He pulled you to him, pressing his lips to the top of your head. You buried your face in his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist like his were your back. You felt hot, wet tears hit the top of your head.

“I’d do anything for you, anything, to keep you here.” He whispered. You didn’t respond.

And if you've got to sleep a moment on the road, I will steer for you

You let Logan drive you to his place, not far from yours. He was resting his arm against the open window, head lolling into his hand. He accidentally zoned out, almost falling asleep. You could see how tired he was. When you got there, no one else seemed to be there. He sat down on his couch. You sat next to him. He grabbed ahold of you, pulling you to him. He fell asleep again, holding you in his arms. Snores filled the room, luring you to sleep with him.

And if you want to work the street alone, I'll disappear for you

You woke up before him. Untangling from his arms, he must sleep deeper with his age now. You manage to slip out of the house unnoticed. You walked back to your house, questioning everything you were feeling about the man you had spent so many years hating and regretting. Logan woke up eventually, worry filling him when he noticed you weren’t with him anymore. He had to respect your wishes though, he left you alone. The worry filled him wouldn’t allow him to. He followed you, watching you. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help it.

And if you want a father for your child

Logan continued to follow you for days on end. When he passed your house, seeing a vehicle he didn’t recognize, jealousy panted in his heart. A young boy walked out of your house. He was shocked, to say the least. He didn’t believe you liked younger men. You walked out a few minutes after him, smiling and laughing. You walked the young man to his car, even opening the door for him. You hugged him. Logan felt stupid, stupid for watching you, stupid for thinking he had a chance with a person like you. Logan almost drove off, but you spotted him before he could. He sighed, making his way out of his car. The way your face fell upon seeing him. The young man looked at Logan, then at you, then questioned who he was.

He walked up to the two of you. He could now clearly see the young man in front of him. He looked a lot like himself, actually; thick eyebrows, dark brown hair, honey hazel eyes. Yet, he had your nose, your smile. Realization dawned on Logan before you could get the words out.

“Son, this is… well, this is Logan.” You stuttered out. Your son’s eyes widened. He nodded, sticking his hand out to shake the larger man’s hand. Logan grasped it, shaking it firmly.

“Nice to meet you, kid.” Logan stated, a warm smile on his face. You glanced between the two, noting the tension in the air. You nodded to your son, giving him permission to leave. He got in his car, pulling out of your drive way. He waved goodbye to you and Logan, driving off.

“You never told me.” Logan said.

“It was years ago. I was pregnant when I left the mansion, I didn’t know it yet.” You responded, leaving it at that.

Or only want to walk with me a while, across the sand, well I'm your man

Logan didn’t know how to feel. He had a son. He could have had a family, something he yearned for his entire life but figured he could never have. You didn’t tell him when you were telling him about your life. Even with the confusion and disappointment, when you grabbed his hand, pulling him with you to walk in your neighborhood, he couldn’t help the smile that graced his features. The feeling of warmth in his heart was all he had to know that it didn’t matter you kept it from him. He’d build a relationship with his son, with you, with his family. He’d introduce you to Laura. He would do anything to grow old with you. He wanted a future with you, for as long as he could live. He didn’t know when the adamantium poison would take him, but he knew he would let you be by his side the entire time. As long as you would have him, he’d be your man.

A/N: listened to this song and couldn’t help myself, please behead me

#deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett #deadpool 3 #hugh jackman #deadpool #wolverine #the worst logan #logan x reader #logan howlett smut #xmen #x men 97 #x men comics #x men movies #x men origins: wolverine #Spotify #x reader

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therosebud · 11 months ago

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Welcome to Sims 4 Romance Reef Challenge!

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If you struggle to stay focused on legacy challenges or any grind-heavy tasks, this challenge is perfect for you. The aim here is to create drama and have fun!

This challenge is inspired by the TV show “Love Island” but with a twist and you do not have to have seen Love Island to enjoy this challenge. However, if you're curious, I recommend watching the Australian or UK versions, as they tend to be funnier and more unfiltered than the American one.

Thank you to the EA Creator Network for giving me early access to create content for you.

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Download the Notion Template on My Patreon

I've created a Patreon for those interested in downloading the Notion template to keep track of all your islanders and progress. Notion is an online organization tool with a Pinterest-like aesthetic. My template provides a layout of the rules and space to detail each Islander. It's not necessary, but it's here if you want it.

For fans of my throwback save file, I will also be re-uploading the save there as it’s more reliable than Sims Share. Thank you for your support over the years on my YouTube channel and other socials. I hope you all enjoy the challenge!

Villa Video Update: If you aren't a builder Don't worry because I will update this post when I upload my speed build of my own villa for you to use. In that video I will also talk about the challenge rules. In the meantime, feel free to build your own or use the gallery to update a villa.

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Initial Islanders: 4 female Sims and 4 male Sims ready to be placed in the villa. They can have any traits, likes, dislikes, turn-ons, and turn-offs, but no skills to keep it fair.

Bombshells: An extra 2 to 4 female Sims and 2 to 4 male Sims in a separate household. These "bombshells" are ready to join and shake things up when needed. They can have traits, likes, dislikes, turn-ons, and turn-offs, but no skills to keep it fair.

Optional Extra:

💡If you want to be extra, you can register all of them with the labor union and use that space to write out a bio for each Sim, but it isn’t necessary.

💡 If you really want to shake things up you could make each sim have a distinct style. For example, one can be cottagecore, sporty, old money, alternative, beachy, urban, witchy, academia, Barbie, outdoorsy, etc. Here’s a list for ideas.

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Bedroom: One large bedroom with 4 double beds for couples. (And a couple extra single beds if someone gets left out.)

Bathrooms: Multiple shower and bathroom stalls upstairs and additional bathrooms near the gym and pool.

Upper Balcony: Equipped with sun loungers and couches.

Kitchen and Sitting Area: Spacious kitchen and indoor sitting area.

Sundeck: Features a large couch and firepit for eliminations and coupling ceremonies.

Outdoor Kitchen: Includes a barbecue and large bar area.

Dance Floor: Designated area for dancing.

Gym and Yoga Area: Semi-outdoor/indoor setup for exercise and yoga.

Swimming Pool: Large pool area.

Hot Tub or Onsen: Relaxation area with a hot tub or onsen.

Skill Challenge Room: Empty space like a basement to host skill challenges.

Buffet Tables and Drink Trays: Available for parties and events.

Victor Suite: Locked except when won by a gameplay challenge winner. Includes high-end objects like a computer (the only one in the house), spa massage table, fancy tub, and bed.

Secluded Date Area: Gated area to control access for private dates.

Iconic Pathway: Long pathway for eviction ceremonies.

Extras: Poohoo bush, closets, woohoo blankets, and optionally a photo booth for added fun.

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You don’t have to play with mods, these are my recommendations.

UI Cheats: Allows you to view exact relationship points by clicking the "set relationship" button under each sim's romantic relationships.

First Impressions Mod: Provides detailed explanations of sims' initial impressions.

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Weather Settings: Turn off rain, thunderstorms, snow, and blizzards in the game menu. Set seasons to the longest possible duration. Start the game in summer for a Love Island vibe.

Aging: Pause aging to preserve the contestants' ages for post-challenge play.

Free Will: Keep free will turned on to allow sims autonomy in their actions. Micro-manage only for needs; let them pretty much choose their interactions, friendships, and rivalries. The exception of the rule is if you are trying to get everyone in one area to start a gameplay challenge. But make sure you turn it back on after everyone is on their gameplay station. I recommend giving them a few hours to complete the challenge depending on what it is of course. Keep track of the order of who finishes (or stopped) the quickest.

World's: I recommend playing in Sulani or Tartosa for this challenge but the new world Ciudad Emamorada would work too (beware the villa would have to be smaller in that world though.) However, feel free to do this in any world you want but it’s best to play it in the summer season.

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Utilize the in-game calendar system to structure your Love Island challenge. Each round typically spans 4-7 days, depending on your desired pace. Here are the key daily events to plan for:

Private Date Day: Select two or three couples to enjoy a private date in a special area of the villa or off-lot.

Gameplay Challenge Day: Determine the strongest and weakest islanders through skill challenges or quality assessments. The islander with the lowest quality item or skill percentage within a time limit of around 2- 4 in game hours, will risk elimination if they lack significant relationships.

Chaos Spin Day: Introduce random events to stir up drama and unpredictability among the contestants.

Coupling and Elimination Day: Held in the evening on the last day of each round. Contestants dress in formal or party wear for the ceremony. After the first elimination, the gender with numerical advantage chooses their partner first. Those without partners face elimination. Re-coupling may occur if islanders form closer bonds during the round.

"Bombshells": Introduce 4-8 additional sims (evenly split by gender) sporadically in each round to shake up dynamics. Morning of the date day in each round is ideal for their arrival, allowing them to participate in that day’s events.

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On the first day, your goal is to have everyone meet and interact in the villa. Here’s how to get started:

Equal Numbers: Begin with an even number of males and females to form 4 couples in total.

Numbering Sims: Number each sim from 1-8 for easy reference during wheel spins.

Lovestruck Expansion: If you have the Lovestruck expansion, observe the sentiments and dynamics as the islanders interact. Pair up those with stronger connections.

Initial Dates: Start the day with a few different dates. Roll for the number of current islanders to determine who goes on dates. If a new islander or “bombshell” is entering, they will get the date. Choose their date based on sentiments, attraction, and relationship levels.

Natural Relationships: Let relationships develop naturally. Avoid interfering, but you can offer slight encouragement if you notice two sims flirting. The challenge’s fun lies in the organic unfolding of relationships.

⭐️ Keep the first day focused on introductions and initial connections to set the stage for the rest of the challenge!

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Setting Up Private Dates

Use a number roller from 1-8 (or the current number of islanders). The chosen number gets to pick their date based on:

- Attraction system

- In-game sentiments/dynamics

- First interaction

Date Execution:

Unlock the gate for the couple to access the private date area, or teleport them in.

Bombshells:

When a new bombshell arrives, they get 1-2 dates to decide who they want to couple up with.

Limit the total number of dates to 3 per day. For example, a bombshell can have up to two dates, and you can still have one date among current islanders.

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Suggested Skills for Challenges:

- Candle Making

- Cooking

- Painting

- Cross Stitching

- Gemology

- Knitting

- Woodworking

- Flower Arranging

- Media Production

- Mixology

- Nectar Making

- Fitness

- Yoga

- Rock Climbing

- Fishing

- Guitar

- Violin

- Pipe organ

- Juice fizzing

Here’s a list to spin for skill competitions

Challenge Outcomes:

- Winner: The islander with the best quality item, highest skill, timed score (depending on the skill chosen or combo of those) wins a night in the victor suite. They can invite their partner or someone else for added drama. If an unpartnered sim wins, they get a chance to invite someone and potentially steal a partner.

- Loser: The islander with the lowest quality item or skill point is at risk of leaving if they don't form significant relationships by the coupling ceremony. If it comes down to two sims, the one who lost the challenge leaves.

Tips:

☑️ Place skill-related items around the house or in a special skill room to allow sims to use them autonomously. This ensures fairness when spinning for the next challenge.

☑️ Don’t force sims to gain skills; let them choose to do so on their own. Any skill points they gain is all fair game for when it’s time for a gameplay challenge.

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This day is just to keep you on your toes. The randomness will make your experience more customized and help you determine who is good with whom. I numbered these so you can use a number randomizer to determine which one you get for today.

⭐️ You do not have to read all 45 of them right now if you don’t want to. You may skip to the elimination section.

1. Use a number randomizer to determine which girls are getting into a fight today.

2. Use a number randomizer to determine which boys are going to fight today.

3. The couple with the lowest romance is fighting today.

4. The couple with the highest romance is fighting today.

5. Someone in the couple with the lowest romance is getting cheated on today.

6. Someone in the couple with the highest romance is getting cheated on today.

7. An old villager comes back for a day to cause some drama among a couple.

8. Get some activity tables; we’re doing a group puzzle.

9. Everyone gets on the yoga mats for a yoga class.

10. Throw a party of your choice; this can include villagers who have been voted out.

11. An islander of choice must get close with another islander outside their couple.

12. A massage therapist is hired for everyone today.

13. We get a slip and slide for today.

14. We get a couple of bowling alleys for today.

15. Tanning and beach combing day (if you are in Sulani or Tartosa).

16. Use a number randomizer (1-8) to give a sim 1+ skill points for free to use in the next challenge day.

17. Use a randomizer to determine who’s being messy today and woohooing with two different sims.

18. A couple of choice gets a date alone today; a couple with the lowest romance gets a chance to work on their relationship via a date alone.

19. A couple with the highest romance gets a date alone today.

20. Everyone plays a game of basketball.

21. Everyone has to skill up one point, but they each have to do a different skill from one another (and, of course, skills used for competitions).

22. The losers and winners of the last gameplay challenge day go head-to-head in a redo of the competition.

23. A new bromance occurs today.

24. It’s just me and the girls. Two girls get to be friends today.

25. A friendship occurs between a male and female who aren’t attracted to each other.

26. Everyone makes a friendship bracelet.

27. Throw a house party.

28. Throw a dance party.

29. Throw a pool party.

30. A sudden death occurs. You must kill off a sim; roll from 1-8 to determine who dies.

31. An engagement?! Roll 1-8 to see who’s getting engaged with their current coupled-up partner.

32. Tanning! Everyone just works on their tan today. (Maybe an enemy sabotages someone’s tan.)

33. Get a photo studio; let’s take some pictures for the house.

34. Everyone plays a card game.

35. We take everyone to another lot.

36. Take all of the girls to another lot.

37. Take all of the boys to another lot.

38. A double elimination occurs. The two people with the lowest gameplay challenge score go home.

39. They’re back! A female player that was voted out comes back for the next round.

40. They’re back! A male player that was voted out comes back for the next round.

41. Drama! Three islanders go on a date together in hopes of two coupling up.

42. Use the woohoo blanket.

43. Everyone plays darts or foosball.

44. Use a number randomizer to determine who’s getting a secret lover on Cupid’s corner outside of the household.

45. Throw a costume party and have everyone wear a random outfit from the costume trunk.

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The first elimination is based purely on the islander who loses the initial challenge, because not everyone might of made a romantic connection yet.

All other eliminations will be based on who has the lowest relationship(s) and ranking in gameplay challenge.

Set up challenge stations in a large room, like a basement.

Randomize the gameplay challenges for a fun and unpredictable experience. Choose skills that produce items with a quality rating or judge by the highest skill points achieved in a set time.

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Observing Interactions:

Pay attention to Sims naturally interacting, especially if they're already coupled but start talking or flirting with others.

If two Sims start being flirty around each other alone often, you can nudge the relationship by having them flirt once or twice to see if they will keep it going.

Recoupling:

A Sim might choose to recouple if their bond with another Sim grows stronger.

In a love triangle, the Sim that has the least connections (romantic and friend wise) and ranked the lowest among in the gameplay challenges, is the one that will be eliminated.

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Let Cheating Happen: If a Sim cheats, let it play out naturally. Don't intervene in saving Sims if they die; it's part of the challenge. Butlers or maids can be hired to manage the cleaning.

No Careers at the start: None of the Sims should have a career initially. However, you can write them a bio if desired.

Adapt as Needed: If you don’t have a certain pack for a skill or activity, replace it with something you do have.

Managing Needs: Assign a bedtime to ensure needs are met. In the morning, control them to shower and eat. The first Sim up makes breakfast unless you have a hired butler or maid.

Encourage Flirting: It's okay to make Sims flirt or chat generally whenever you like, but for new romances, only initiate flirting once or twice to get things started. Do this only if you notice Sims getting flirty around each other often, as Sims usually won't start a romance autonomously without a mod. After that, don't intervene. If the romance doesn't progress, it wasn't meant to be. Follow their social cues and wants to let you know who they like.

Unlimited Funds: This challenge isn’t about money, so feel free to use the "rosebud" cheat as much as you like. 😉

Rewards: The winners could win the villa and you can renovate it in their style. Alternatively, use them in another challenge.

Questions and Feedback: If you need any clarifications, feel free to ask. If you try out this challenge, tag me! Use the #ts4romanticreef

Sul sul! 🌹

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