#don’t know how i feel about these but i had fun

[gurugirl]

Truth or Dare | slumber party!h

Summary: Y/n's coworker, Harry, has never been to a slumber party so she decides to remedy that and give him a sleepover he'll never forget.

A/N: Based off this request. Thanks anon! I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 6,752

Warning: smut

. . .

By her third glass of chardonnay, her stomach was feeling the acid from the wine but she was having such a good time talking to Harry from the operations department that she didn’t care. She’d have another before calling it a night. Just one more glass so she could sit with him a little longer and listen to him talk and watch as he ran his finger along the edge of his pint glass.

He was probably looking at her like he was because he was also three pints of lager in and he was kind so he was holding eye contact to be polite. Certainly, it wasn’t because he found her attractive (though she’d have welcomed that).

The company’s management meeting was long over and everyone else had gone home but Harry and Y/n stayed for another round. They rarely ever got to talk at the office. She’d always wanted to pick his brain about why he decided to move to the US and how, of all companies, he chose to work at Dunn Services.

Y/n laughed on cue as he mentioned something from his childhood with his sister having her friends over to stay the night. He grinned, a healthy row of teeth aimed at her before he looked down and laughed at himself, “In truth? I never did have a sleepover or anything like that.”

“Really? Surely you had friends…”

Harry nodded, “Oh yeah I had a lot of friends. But I never stayed over at anyone’s and they never came over to mine either. Just… I don’t know. Never happened.”

Placing her nearly empty glass down she turned and waved with a smile as the waitress walked by, “Can we get another round, please?”

“How are you getting home?” Harry asked when she faced him, crossing her leg over her knee toward him.

“Taxi. You?”

“Might walk. I’m not far from here.”

Nodding she placed her elbows on the table, “So, I think that you’ve missed out on an integral right of passage, having never had a slumber party. You should definitely remedy that at some point. I highly recommend a fun sleepover. In fact, if you need pointers on what to do during a sleepover, I’m your gal.”

“Oh yeah? What’s your go-to during a slumber party?” Harry teased before taking another sip of his beer.

“Well, I think there are like two main components. The first is entertainment and I’m always keen on a good movie, or a dumb one, either way… a movie for sure if I’m picking. Some people like to play board games or whatever, but I like to stuff myself into a pile of blankets and pillows and just lie, or drape,” she spoke using her arms to demonstrate herself draping into pillows. “Occasionally, if the mood is right, I’ll enjoy a little truth or dare.”

“Got it. A movie and maybe if the mood is right, truth or dare. And what’s the second component.”

Y/n crossed her fingers together and raised her brows as if she were about to say something very important, “Snacks. Beverages. Good ones. Usually just small bites but here’s my list…” She cleared her throat, “Buttered popcorn, and possibly potato chips. Definitely something chocolatey, and maybe something like a cookie or a snack cake. If not potato chips then tortilla chips and if it’s tortilla chips, salsa should also definitely be on the menu.”

Harry held back the laugh in his throat as he nodded, “Wow. Okay. What about like a burger or Chinese food? Would that be allowed?”

Y/n shrugged, “It’s your party. You can do what you want. I’m just telling you what I’d do and what would be a hit with your sleepover buddy.”

Harry breathed out a laugh. Y/n could tell he was getting bashful. She wondered if he was thinking the same thing she was. She watched him for a few seconds before the waitress returned with their drinks.

A quick gulp of wine and she nudged at his shin with her shoe, “You wanna have a slumber party with me?”

Harry blinked and tilted his head, “What? You mean… Seriously?”

She shrugged, “Why not? Then next time someone asks if you’ve ever had a proper slumber party you can say that you have.”

He laughed loudly, his husky voice was like music to her ears. Pointing at her with his finger he grinned, “Now how I can argue with that? I mean,” he shook his head, a glint in his eye, “Every time someone asks me if I’ve been to a slumber party and I tell them I haven’t, it’s such a disappointment! The look on their faces when they realize my whole childhood was a sham…”

They both laughed, leaning in toward one another, tittering toward the edges of their stools.

Harry tilted his head, “Actually I think it sounds fun. You just name the day and I’ll be there.”

Y/n smiled at him. She knew it was crazy. Having a grown man at her place for a slumber party. Typically adults didn’t have those kinds of sleepovers – it was usually with the intent of something far more salacious. But she’d show him a good time, she thought, raising her glass toward his, “Deal.”

.                 .                 .

Y/n had her sofa bed pulled out and piled high with extra blankets and pillows. She had all her favorite snacks plus she ordered cheeseburgers and fries for the guest of the night. It was silly. Truly she hadn’t had a real slumber party in ages, but she couldn’t help but feel a little bit of excitement that she’d be hanging out with Harry all night. It was possible that her small crush on him was making her feel all giddy but she’d push down that feeling until he gave her any extenuating signals.

Because the truth was that they were both single, young adults and this was such an unlikely scenario. No one would look at this and say Oh how cute of these two grown adults hanging out in bed together for a sleepover. So innocent! No, she knew better. While maybe nothing would actually happen it certainly wouldn’t look innocent.

And of course, she did pick out the perfect pijama set. Something a little more flattering on her body but not too hey I really need to get laid tonight. It was a happy compromise. Cotton shorts and a button-up, matching short-sleeved top. This was just supposed to be a slumber party after all.

Right?

Besides, the little paper invitation she gave him on Monday morning told him to arrive in his sleepwear so she had to look the part. And not to toot her own horn but she made a very cute invitation just for him tucked into a pink envelope with a separate little response card that had space at the bottom for him to mark yes or no if he could come. It was a yes. Obviously.

When Harry finally arrived he was wearing a pair of grey sweats and a white t-shirt. And for some fucking bizarre reason he looked so much hotter than he did when he wore his well-fitted suits at work.

Because goddamn did his shirt somehow just hug his torso in all the right spots and it allowed her to take a good look at all tattoos on his arms that were normally hidden under brushed wool jackets or long-sleeved button-up shirts. She knew he had tattoos. She’d seen him roll up his sleeves a couple of times but she never wanted to be rude and stare for long.

And then the sweatpants, while loose in the legs, fit his waist and hips and…

“You okay?” Harry was still standing in the doorway with his backpack draped over his arm waiting to be invited in.

“Yeah, sorry. Not used to seeing you dressed down like this. Almost unrecognizable.”

Harry let out a soft laugh, his eyes crinkling as Y/n stepped aside to let him in, “Would you like to see my ID? Swear I’m the Harry Styles, the guy you invited over for chips, popcorn, and truth or dare. I’ve even got your invite somewhere in my bag…”

She breathed a laugh through her nose and watched him enter into her space, “Movies too. Oh, and I also ordered cheeseburgers. Remembered that you mentioned that.”

He seemed quite pleased with the burgers as she handed him the bag. She got those small ones, five to an order, “Thanks. Fries too, huh?” He reached into the bag and pulled out three crinkle-cut french fries then stuffed them into his mouth.

“So should we settle in and pick out a movie?” She gestured toward her couch.

Harry had seen the pull-out couch with heaps of pillows and blankets when he walked in. He knew that that would be where they’d be spending most of the evening. It was the glaring thing about the whole slumber party slash sleepover. That they’d be probably sleeping next to one another. As two young, healthy, attractive adults.

“Sure,” he nodded and waited for her to pick which side she was going to take before climbing in next to her, the thin mattress and metal frame giving way gently under his weight before he leaned back against a mountain of pillows, bag of burgers safe in his hands.

Y/n had a few video streaming services at the ready and they settled on a cheesy comedy from the late 90s before Y/n reached over to her coffee table and then lined up all the snacks between them.

They chatted a little, having both seen the movie already. Topics were anything from what their plans were for the rest of the weekend to what they’d eaten for lunch at work. And it was only a little awkward when they both reached into the bowl of M&M’s at the same time, fingers brushing together.

Harry moved his hand away, “Sorry. You go…”

Y/n grinned at him, scooping a handful of candy into her palm, and then sat up, adjusting her seating as she crossed her legs together, “Wanna do truth or dare? Pretend like we’re 15 again having a sleepover. Really get into the whole slumber party vibe, ya know?”

Harry dug out a few M&M’s and let out a chesty laugh, “If I’m 15 again we’re in big trouble.”

Y/n snorted a laugh, “Why? What do you mean?”

He shook his head, a wide grin on his face with deep set dimples carved into each cheek as he turned his head to look at her, “If this were happening when I was 15 I’d already be in the bathroom hyperventilating and probably trying to will away a boner after our hands touched in the M&M’s bowl.”

Y/n guffawed and threw her head back, nearly choking on her bite of chocolatey candies as Harry laughed with her. Honestly, it was the best icebreaker she could have asked for. Things had been kind of clunky between them up until that moment as they were still trying to navigate how to act around one another. And she knew he was teasing but the good belly laugh that she got from Harry’s story was exactly what they needed.

“Okay fine. We’ll just keep going about it as adults then. No fifteen-year-olds here tonight,” Y/n chuckled as she shoveled a few kernels of popcorn into her mouth.

Y/n kept her eyes on him as she chewed her mouthful, “So truth or dare?”

Harry cocked his head at her, “So the mood is right then? For truth or dare?”

Y/n’s brows furrowed, “The mood?”

“Yeah. You said it over drinks. Remember when you were telling me what the most important components are to a sleepover and you said you liked truth or dare if the mood was right.”

Nodding slowly, she thought back to what she’d said, “Yeah. I guess I did say that. And I mean… I think the mood’s right for a little truth or dare. Movie’s almost over and you just pretty much kicked us off with that truth.” A breathy laugh was pushed from her mouth.

She could tell Harry was mulling on another question as he bit the inside of his cheek, head tilting in agreement, “So that means it’s your turn. Truth or dare?”

Biting her lip as she pondered, she pressed her back into the soft pillows behind her, “Truth.”

Harry shifted to his side, long legs stretching the length of the mattress as he propped his head up in his hand, a pillow under his arm, “Have you ever kissed a co-worker before?”

Scoffing Y/n moved to her side, mimicking Harry’s position on her side, “No,” she grinned. It was true. She’d never once done anything with any of her coworkers. Having Harry over at her house was the closest she’d ever gotten to doing anything like that. “Now you. Truth or dare?”

His green eyes slid over her features, “Truth.”

She laughed to herself, trying to think of something funny, “How many stuffed animals do you own?”

Licking his lips he nodded, “Think maybe two? Gifts from my niece… Truth or dare?”

“Mmm… dare,” she giggled.

Harry lifted a brow, “Ahhh… feeling bold yeah? Okay… hmm…” He pursed his lips to the side as he considered the dare. “Read to me the last text you sent to anyone. And you have to show me to prove it was the last one. And it can’t be any texts you and me, cause that’s not fair.”

Y/n blinked. She wasn’t exactly sure what her last text was besides Harry. But she was slightly worried because if it was what she was thinking… lifting up her message app she scrolled down to the text thread below Harry’s and it was a text with her sister. Which was what she had been worried about. She gulped, hoping that the things she said about her “coworker” who was coming to stay with her weren’t the last things she and her sister texted about.

Puffing out a breath she covered up all the previous texts to show Harry the last text from her sister – God knows you need it. Sending you good vibes, sis ;)

Harry squinted as he looked at the message and pointed, “That’s to you. The dare was to show me the last text you sent to someone. Let’s see it…”

Feeling her neck heat up she angled the phone away from him and read what she’d sent her sister. And there was no mention of Harry but if he were even halfway decent at picking up clues he might be able to figure out what was being discussed prior.

She shook her head and looked up at him. She couldn’t believe she was about to show him what was on her screen. But a dare was a dare. What was the worst that could happen?

lol I doubt anything will happen but I wouldn’t turn him down. Got condoms just in case 😜 send all your good vibes my way

Harry’s brows squished together as he looked at the text and back to Y/n and then down again at the words on her screen. She saw his throat bob and she knew the look on his face. He fucking knew what that was. He had to know.

She had to look away. She pulled the phone down and killed the screen. The awkwardness between them thick and uncomfortable as she peeked back at him. The edge of his mouth was pulled upward in a smirk, “That’s to your sister?”

Nodding she blew out an exasperated breath, “Your turn. Truth or dare?”

Harry grinned as he positioned his knee closer to Y/n, his eyes still on hers, “Dare.”

Swallowing her embarrassment down the best she could she decided to ask him the same, “Now show me the last text you sent anyone besides me.”

Harry’s smartass grin told her all she needed to know. That his last text probably wasn’t nearly as risqué as hers.

And it wasn’t. Not even close.

You can have two pounds for free. I’ve got so many growing I can’t keep up. As long as you come to pick them up on Monday they’re yours.

“I have a bunch of zucchini growing in my garden,” Harry pulled the phone away and laid it down next to his hip. “Got a neighbor who wants some.”

Of course, his last text to anyone was about zucchini. Jesus, she was so far out of her depth.

He was still wearing that shit-eating grin as he said, “Truth or dare, Y/n?”

And the way he said her name, all slow and sexy-like had her insides heating up. Well, maybe she made up the sexy part but he was definitely teasing her. She could just feel it.

“Truth.”

She was sure she’d regret that. Truth or dare. It didn’t matter. She was still reeling from showing him her texts.

“Was that text about me?” Shit-eating grin in place as he asked. Fucker.

Y/n’s eyes grew wide dropping her mouth open in surprise. Of course, he was going to ask that. Of course!

“Oh come on, Harry…” she pleaded.

He lifted his brows and awarded her a larger grin with those cute indents scoring into his cheeks, “Them’s the rules, baby. You chose truth and now you have to be honest.”

Clearing her throat she sat up to her bottom and leaned forward so she didn’t have to look at him as she put her head in her hands and laughed in disbelief, “Jesus. Seriously?”

“Yep. Spill. Let’s hear it.”

“Okay. Fine. Yes. It was about you.”

Keeping her eyes on her lap she waited for a smug remark. Some kind of teasing reply but it was quiet. Slowly she turned to look back at him and he was still lying on his side, head in his palm as he watched her, his eyes fixed to hers.

She shrugged, “Your turn. Truth or dare?”

Harry flattened his lips and squinted at her before cocking his head, “Hold on… Really? That was about me?”

Sighing she rolled her eyes, “Yes. Sorry. I was… it was just funny… it was me joking around with my sister is all.”

He blinked and looked down at the space between them as he nodded, “Okay. I see. So you didn’t actually mean it?”

“Well… I guess… We were joking. Obviously, nothing has to happen. I would never expect that. I…” she breathed out exasperated.

“Obviously nothing has to happen. Did you want it to happen?” His pupils were pinned to hers again.

Opening her mouth she stopped herself for a moment. She knew her answer was yes but she didn’t want to come off like a creep. She hadn’t expected it and assumed it wouldn’t. But the truth remained; she hoped it would happen.

Deflating her posture she laid back to her side to face Harry, tucking a pillow into her chest, “The truth is that I think you’re attractive and I haven’t been with anyone in kind of a long time and… she knows that, my sister. So we were just… it was lighthearted but yeah I mean… without any expectations, cause I would never… I hope you know that. But I did think it would be nice.”

“Nice. Yeah. I agree. It would be nice. And just so you know,” he swung his head to look over his shoulder before looking back at her, “I brought condoms as well. You know… just in case.”

She was a bit stunned at that. Was he…

“Dare me to kiss you,” he grinned, irises dropping to her lips for a second before looking back into her eyes.

She laughed, “That’s not how the game works. The rules are you can’t–”

“Fuck the rules. Dare me to kiss you.”

Shaking her head with a wide smile stretched across her face she felt like her skin was pricking as her heartbeat picked up. She couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

Looking back into his eyes she inhaled deeply, “Fine. I dare you to kiss me.”

Harry’s smirk was unreal. The way he dragged his gaze over her face and down to her mouth was almost lewd, “Didn’t need to play truth or dare to get me to kiss you, Y/n,” he scooted in, grabbing the pillow she had tucked into her chest and tossing it away before he drew a hand up to her face, “You just needed to ask.”

She held her breath as he closed in slowly until it was as if all the tension in the room had popped and fizzled when his lips met hers.

He was so soft and gentle. Lips winding easily, carefully at first. And then she parted her lips more, kissing him back and letting her mouth press into his bottom lip before their tongues were meshed.

She moved her knee out to stabilize herself and knocked over the bowl of popcorn between them. Laughing into his mouth she gasped as she parted from him but he only reached for her again, placing his palm at the back of her head to pull her mouth back against his with a grunt from his chest as he pushed the bowl away and drove his arm underneath her side to keep her from getting too far.

Harry was softly moaning as his tongue worked its way into her mouth gently. It was clear he’d wanted to kiss her. That he liked it. And that notion made her head spin combined with the feel of his thumb traveling over her jaw. There was not going to be any stopping the momentum that had begun.

Well, except for when the bowl of M&M’s poured out against her leg. She had to push at him. As much as she would have loved to have kept making out, she would not have been able to enjoy melted chocolate on her legs or the bedsheets tucked around the mattress (think of the scrubbing she’d need to do!).

“Sorry,” she panted and looked down at the smashed pieces of popcorn and the chocolate candies strewn between them, “I’ve gotta pick this up. Our body heat will melt all these and it’s gonna be a big mess.”

Harry grinned, “Why don’t we just move this party to your bed for a little bit? Clean up later? The M&M’s won’t melt if we’re not laying on them.”

She laughed, already feeling overwhelmed and overheated from the kiss and now he was suggesting taking it to her bed? This was really happening, wasn’t it? She nodded and they both moved off the sofa sleeper to their feet, Harry following behind Y/n as she led him to her bedroom.

She already had her bedside lamp on. Bed made perfectly, everything tucked in and neat.

She turned to look at him and he stepped against her, palm splaying at her low back, “I dare you to get onto your bed and take your clothes off.”

A small laugh burst from her chest, “Oh, so now we’re just doing dares?”

He nodded, “Making up our own rules for this game. S’more fun this way.”

Letting go of her he watched as she stepped backward toward her bed and began to unbutton her nightshirt until it was shed from her body before she pushed her shorts down her legs. She was left in a pretty white bralette (something soft for bedtime) that stretched around her breasts and a pair of thin cotton panties that matched. She kneed up onto her bed and let her feet dangle off the edge and pointed, “Now I dare you to take off your clothes.”

He peeled his white t-shirt off, his hair mussing in the process. She watched with her lips parted at the gorgeous man stripping before her. Not only was he built exactly like what she dreamed of (tattoos, beefy, muscular, a touch soft, very masculine) but the boner tenting his sweats was hard not to home in on.

Harry stuck his fingers into the waistband and looked up at her, “M’not wearing any underwear, so be warned…”

She swallowed as the material lowered, belly button, happy trail, a bit of dark hair and then he pulled the stretchy waistband away from his body so his cock could push free and she was already clenching at just the sight as he removed his sweatpants, cock full and heavy between his strong thighs.

Jesus Christ.

Harry stepped forward, nudging himself between her knees and she leaned back to look up at him, “I dare you to take off the rest of this. Since I’m completely naked feels only fair.”

She bit her lip and looked down at his girthy dick. He was clearly not shy of his body, standing there like that, cock right in front of her. But why should he be shy when he looked like that?

Scooting back further into the bed she got up to her knees and pulled the bralette off first, feeling the heat of his gaze on her tits as she then slid her panties down her thighs. She wasn’t nearly as confident as Harry was as she quickly pulled at her top blanket and covered herself with a small laugh.

Harry stepped forward, one knee on the mattress before climbing in next to her, nosing at her cheek softly before his lips were connected to hers again. And she melted into him just like before. His mouth was magic or something because before she realized it, he’d pulled the blankets off her body and he had a big palm sliding up her thigh and over her hip, “Don’t cover up. So pretty. Knew you would be.”

She pushed her fingers into his thick wavey hair and felt her side hit the mattress as Harry pulled at her again, mouth still smeared against hers. He grabbed at her thigh, hitching it over his hip as he tucked in closer and it was warm and she could feel it. Feel him against her hip.

His giant hand smoothed against her bottom and up her spine until he was wrapping his long fingers around the back of her neck. Y/n nudged in closer, driving her hips forward until she was practically straddling him. So Harry took that as his cue to move to his back, taking her hips in his hands so she’d follow with him.

It had caught her off guard, the sudden change in position but her lips never stopped moving with his. Their kisses were wet and she could smell their saliva, and a touch of onion even from the burgers he’d eaten.

He guided her hips down, his thick cock hot under her thigh until she felt her pussy drag against warm skin at the base of his dick. A small gasp escaped her mouth as he pulled her up, letting her pussy glide up his length, “So wet already, Y/n…”

She was. It was embarrassing. Every inch of his shaft her pussy dragged against, coated him, wetted his skin. He kept pushing and pulling at her hips, using her slippery pussy like a soft wet toy he could run up and down his length.

Then she felt his fingers move around to her backside, digits sliding against her pussy as he licked into her mouth.

Gently she rolled against him and when she moved herself further down he pushed a fingertip inside, “Go on. Fuck yourself on my finger a little bit,” he whispered against her mouth.

He was filthy. She had no idea. He’d always been so sweet at work. So polite and respectful. But here he was reaching around her ass to get a finger inside of her cunt as she rubbed her pussy over his cock.

She panted into his mouth as she slid down around his finger, her clit smushed into his dick, slippery as she rolled up and down. But then he began to assist as he added another finger and began to fuck into her pussy, letting his digits curve into her the best he could from his angle. Slushy wet, she stopped moving her hips and parted from the kiss as she looked down at him. She could tell she was gushing all over his palm and probably his dick as she moaned.

“S’that feel good. You’re gettin’ my fingers all wet like it feels good.”

Nodding she gasped, “Yeah. Feels so good…”

Harry rutted up against her, his cock still pressed into her clit, and she panted, eyes still searing into his. She didn’t want to look away. She almost couldn’t believe he was in her bed fingering her like that.

“Your turn to dare me to do something. What do you want, Y/n?”

She moaned and closed her eyes. She was certain of what she wanted as she listened to the way his fingers gushed with each plunge into her.

“Fuck… dare you to… put on a condom.”

She popped her eyes open to peer down at him as he slid his fingers out of her, wiping her arousal on her ass, “They right here?” He moved his hand toward her bedside table, a knuckle tapping at the wood.

Climbing off of him she opened the drawer, “Yeah, a whole box. Hold on…”

Reaching over to pull out the condoms she felt Harry’s hands on her hips as he moved to sit up, then his lips were on her back, dotting warm kisses to her shoulder blades as she finally plucked a condom from the fresh box.

She watched him put the condom on and as expected, it didn’t cover his entire length. He was kind of a big guy. Well, maybe there was no kind of about it. Before today she had no idea he was packing like that. Though he always did come off as very confident and sure of himself.

She bit her lip as she watched him toss the wrapper away and then he kneed up to her, arm sliding to her back and carefully lowering her to the bed before spreading her legs apart as he fit himself there, sturdy thighs pushing against her soft ones.

“Gonna tell your sister her good vibes worked?” He smirked down at her, hands scouring her hips and tummy and then kneading softly at her tits.

Y/n laughed and reached a hand down to his knee before he pulled at her, making her thighs drape over his as he inched in closer.

“Hmm?” He was awfully teasing, she thought, grinning at her waiting for an answer.

“Probably,” she spit out in a laugh.  

Harry gripped at her thighs, lifting her a bit more to fit her bum over his bent knees and she wanted to scream in embarrassment when she realized he was inspecting her sodden vulva. She’d gotten herself all tidied up for him, should anything like this happen, so at least she had that going for her.

He smoothed his thumb through her pussylips, spreading them apart, and softly blew out a breath, “That is very pretty. Think we get him in there?”

She rolled her eyes as she watched him wrap his palm around his base and lay his fat cock over her mons, the condomed-tip reaching to her belly button, maybe further past, “Well, it’s made for it, so I’m pretty sure–”

“What… your pussy’s made to fit around my cock?” A cocky dimpled smirk gave way to a laugh.

“You know what I meant. It’s meant to… like…” she breathed out a laugh.

“Oh, I know… just fucking with you, Y/n.”

He gazed at her as he reared back, painting his cockhead through her labia, up and down, a soft bump into her clit before he repeated, spreading her soft lips apart as he watched the way his crown smeared her arousal between her creases.

When she moaned and wiggled her hips he pointed himself right at her little muscle, nudging softly forward, opening it up for himself. And she felt that first push, the way his tip fit into her, spreading apart and then stretching to accommodate his circumference.

“Oh god…” she breathed as he slipped in halfway and then pulled back.

“Almost there,” he panted as he kept his eyes on where they were connected, pushing and pulling back until she was swallowing him whole, his cock enveloped in her soft, warm pussy.

When he’d buried in whole, he moaned and watched her face twist up in ecstasy. Her lips were dropped open and her neck stretched long as she grasped onto the forearm of the hand he had gripping her waist.

Slowly he began to thrust, viscous liquid seeping from her pussy and sticking to his shaft. It was filthy. She was so wet that every time he bottomed out there was a splat and a plap sounding between them.

She let out a deep moan and her lips curled up, humid breath escaping her mouth as she felt him driving into her guts. He was taking it easy. Languidly fucking into her with wet claps every time he plunged in.

When her cunt was taking him easier and she was dripping down to her ass he moved in a little harder, faster. Angling himself over her, a palm down on the mattress so he could work into her with more gusto.

“Ah! Harry…” she squeaked at the stronger thrusts and clung onto his lats. He was panting, lips parted and pink, a curl falling over his forehead as he plowed into her splooshing pussy.

“Fuck you’re wet. Pussy is gushing, Y/n…”

Her brows pushed together as she gasped, her body knocked upward every time his hips met hers making her tits bounce. Harry didn’t know where to keep his focus. He loved watching his cock disappear into her hole but he kind of liked being right over her so he could see her face crinkle up every time he bottomed out and then her pretty breasts sway up and down. Or maybe he’d like to fuck her from behind, watch her ass jiggle as he pounded into her.

“Mmm… fuck that’s big!”

Harry groaned, “Yeah? Sure know how to sweet talk a man don’t you, pretty? S’hurt?”

She watched his face, a lusty grin, droopy eyelids as he continued muscling his way in deep.

She hissed when he bucked in, as if he was showing off just how deep he could push in and she coughed out, “Mmm… a little!”

Harry was going to lose his mind with her if she kept squeaking out moans and splatting around his cock like she was but he would be a gentleman and pull back a touch. Slowing down a little he sat up and moved his hand between them, smushing his thumb into her clit, which was so sticky wet even that swished and slid under the pad of his digit.

“Yessss…” she breathed out before murmuring on about how good it felt. “Oh fuck, that’s it. Oh god… please don’t stop… Harry, fuck, yes…”

The clit. The magical little nob that worked wonders as long as the man knew where to find it. Clearly, Harry knew right where it was. Knew how to circle over it, pressing against it just right. Knew how to fuck into her as well. Sliding his length through her vaginal walls, spreading her open, and grazing against her gummy little spot on the inside that had her buzzing and liquifying for him.

He watched her whine and squirm under him, loving how she was so into it. God that was an ego boost, “Like that, Y/n? Gonna come for me? Yeah?”

Her ears were already ringing when she lost herself, gripping around him and crying out as her orgasm washed through her tummy. Harry’s cock made her feel so full, so incredibly stuffed to the brim that it weighed her down and she could hardly move as he bulldozed into her, the pad of his thick thumb smushing fast circles over her throbbing nub.

Fucking her through it he gasped at how she spasmed and milked around him, her pussy trying to siphon his come right through his condom. But Harry wouldn’t come just yet. He had something to prove. Wanted to make a show of his prowess and give her something to tell her sister about.

So when she was finally calmed and her pussy wasn’t clamping around him like a vice grip he slid his hand under her head and kissed her gently, speaking low and soft against her lips, “Gonna have you flip over, okay? Just need a little more yeah?”

When he parted from the kiss she blinked up at him, fluttering lashes and out of breath, “You didn’t come?”

He shook his head, pulling himself out, gently before he placed his hands on her hips, “Not yet. I will soon, though. M’right on the edge. Won’t take me long.”

She rolled to her side as he lifted her hips and helped her get to her tummy. She felt his hands on her ass, squeezing and rubbing each meaty globe in his big palms. Then he was straddling her thighs as he spread her gently and she felt him push his thick tip back into her pussy, sharp and hot. It was tighter, felt a lot fuller like that as he began driving in deep and then pulling out to his tip, before plowing back into the hilt.

His moans grew louder and, even he could admit, sounded quite whiny, pathetic. He was shaking as he watched his dick spread her in half, her soft ass jiggling as he smacked into her, skin patting, his cock leaking precum steadily into his condom.

He hissed when it felt too good. His balls squeezing and his fat dick throbbing inside of her. He thrusted forward, landing a palm down next to her shoulder, his chest pressed into her back as he rutted himself in, tucking his cock through her insides and puffed out a hot groan into her ear, “Fuck you feel good. Gonna make me come, baby…”

She moaned and nodded, “Come for me, Harry…”

He might have held out for another thirty seconds, possibly a minute longer but her breathy words, all sultry and pleading had him pumping into his condom in an instant. He gargled on a moan and squeezed his eyes closed as he buried in and stilled his hips, ass flexing so he could push in further if it were possible.

Y/n felt him crushing her back as he collapsed over her, panted breaths in her ear, cock still throbbing in the aftermath of his orgasm.

She didn’t mind it. Liked his weight on her like that. Enjoyed the way he seemed just as fucked out as she was. She could even feel his heart pounding in his chest against her back.

With a moan, she turned her head and nuzzled her face into her blanket with her eyes closed. She’d fall asleep that way if he couldn’t get up. It was quite warm and comforting. Like a weighted blanket draped over her body. And maybe she did doze off for a bit because when she opened her eyes she felt him moving off of her before he crashed down next to her, the springs in her mattress bouncing under him.

Pushing herself to lie on her side she ran a hand over his chest and he turned to look at her, a dopey smile on his flushed face, “So this is what happens at slumber parties, huh? I’ve really missed out all these years.”

She giggled and nodded into her pillow, “Yep. They’re just like big orgies really. Normally there are more than just two people. It’s how I lost my virginity.”

Harry sputtered a laugh, “Really?”

Y/n couldn’t help but to cackle loudly and roll to her back, the biggest grin on her face, “No, silly. I was teasing.”

He slid a hand over her tummy, “So this isn’t what happens at slumber parties, then?” She could hear the cheeky smile in his voice.

She turned her head to look at him, “Well, not usually. But I think we made our own rules for this one today.”

“Yeah? Well, I have to give it to you. You throw a hell of a party. I’m certain this is gonna go down as the best sleepover in history.”

. . .

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[midday-clouds]

Yandere Batfamily x Neglected & "Immortal" Reader 》

There are many yandere batfam x neglected reader but I can't get enough of them--- So here is a silly story idea I have

I don't go into too much detail about how the reader is immortal but I'll probably share about it another timeee

CW: Neglect, Self-Degrading, Kidnapping, Violence(Being shot at)

Reader is a product of a hookup between Bruce and some random other woman, your mom

You and your mom had a decent relationship. The two of you would help each other out and have fun playing games. You were so content without knowing who your father was.

Your world begins to collapse when your mom doesn’t come home one day. A bunch of strange people suddenly come into your house and drag you out. You never understood what happened that day besides that you were now alone.

After your mother is announced dead, you find out that you are related to the millionaire, Bruce Wayne. You don’t know much about him but still find yourself put on the Wayne Manor's doorstep

Bruce had just gone through the loss of Jason and had just taken Tim in. He would have happily made some space in his schedule but a case always comes up and makes him forget about you.

Due to Bruce being too busy, you never properly mourned for your mother. Alfred would try to help you but you needed your dad.

For the first week, you locked yourself in your room, almost immediately forgotten by the rest of the family. Alfred would bring meals to your room, knowing that you aren't ready for any sort of interaction in this state. 

Alfred tries to convince Bruce to prioritize your health but there is always a case that takes up all of his attention

After that first week, you become comfortable enough to try and get out of your room at least.

With you around the manor more, the family begins to see them more often but not enough to care.

All of them were busy being vigilantes and weren’t interested in connecting with you. Sure, don't mean to neglect you, but some criminals just don't know when to stop

This worsens your mental state, making them regret not trying to bond with their family earlier. If they had tried in the beginning, then maybe they would have made connections with your new family. Now it feels like they've lost their chance

Alfred would do his best to comfort you but he could only help so much.

When you met Dick, it was when he was stopping by to talk to Bruce. You both had a fun conversation together but that was it.

After that first interaction, you tried to talk to Dick more often when he stopped by, but it seems the first time was just lucky. Dick always had something that didn't allow for a quick chat,

Meeting Jason was honestly terrifying. You were in the kitchen when you heard some noise from outside. It's dark outside so you walk up to the window to see what the sound was

Because of the darkness outside and lights inside, you mainly just see your reflection when looking outside

You squint your eyes to try to see past the reflection when a red helmet pops up and frightened you

Falling onto the ground, you stare in shock at seeing the stranger open the window and step inside

Jason tries to relax your nerves by taking off his helmet, showing he isn't a threat. It doesn't help much when you don't even know who he is

He explains himself after seeing your confused look and you both end up having a small conversation. It was nice until Bruce came in and pulled Jason away.

You never seem to meet Jason again

There were very few instances where you interacted with Tim. Even though you lived in the same house, Tim was always busy.

You’d both exchange small greetings when seeing each other in the hall but that was it. You didn't want to disturb him so you never stopped by his room

you hoped that when Tim had free time, the two could hang out. However, Tim always made plans that you couldn't fit into

Sometimes you would hear that Tim has been playing a game with his friends and you would play it but by yourself.

After a couple of years, Damian enters the family and you were so excited

Because Damian was new to the family, you thought it would be the perfect opportunity to bond with him

That didn't go well. He almost stabbed you

Your opinion of Damian was quick to go sour.

Damian's acts to show authority have gotten you scared of walking around the manor and frightened of animals. Specifically Titus.

It is quite unfortunate as you love animals and to have a dog in the family would bring you so much joy. Too bad Titus has attacked and chased you on multiple occasions

You didn't know what to do with the violence Damian had been taking out on you. You don't feel comfortable talking to Bruce and don't want to bother Alfred. This leads to you bottling up your emotions and locking yourself in your room

During your time, you spent reflecting on your life. Being in the manor isn't helping your mental health so it would be good to go outside more. Due to your constant attempts to bond with your family, you don't spend too much time with your friends from school

Seeing this as another perfect opportunity, you make plans with your friends to get out of the house and have a bit of self-care

Once the day comes, you quickly pack a small backpack and leave the house, only leaving a note for Alfred that says where you're at.

Finally getting some “fresh” air and being surrounded by those who feel more like family than your real family

You all have the best day and make plans for more get-togethers. 

It may not be the safest to be out so often but you’ve lived in Gotham your whole life, you know the safety procedures to stay safe. There isn't much news on you so people don't even recognize you as Bruce’s kid

Of course, something had to happen

You and your friends had just finished a fun day and you realize that your bike was stolen, meaning you don't have a way home. Your friends offered to take you home but you declined out of politeness. If something does go wrong, you ask your friends to call you to check up on you

Your walk home is longer than expected and it’s getting darker. As you walk through the streets of Gotham, you’re suddenly pulled into an alley and are threatened with a gun

There a three masked guys and one of them seems to have recognized you as Bruce’s kid, changing their plan to use you for ransom

You’re knocked out and taken to an abandoned building where you’re tied up to a pipe in the back

The kidnappers have a ransom letter and take it to the Wayne manor, including the small backpack you carried around

Unfortunately, Alfred was on his month-long vacation and Bruce was the one to receive the letter

He takes the time to contact "all" his kids and they're all perfectly fine and he doesn't recognize the backpack that was sent with the letter. There was a wallet but no ID card of any kind. The letter also didn't have a name on it.

Bruce brings up the case to the rest of the family but they agree that it may be a scam. 

The letter was likely from some desperate person who was trying to trick Bruce into giving money so it was put on the side while the family worked on a bigger case. 

Because of this, you’re held hostage for an unknown amount of days before the kidnappers get tired of waiting and shoot you in the gut out of frustration 

You’re filled with immense pain from the bullet before darkness consumes you.

More days pass before you wake up, still tied to a pipe and blood stained clothes

It seems your kidnappers had left your body behind rather than getting rid of it. You’ve been struggling with the rope since you have been taken and it was paying off because you can see that you can almost get your hands free.

Once you're out of the building, it is midnight. You immediately run back to the manor the moment you find a family path.

No one is there to notice you make your way back to your room. Because of how long it's been, you don't leave a trail of blood. Maybe some dirt but hopefully it won't be too hard to clean up

You debate on what action to take next. Looking in the mirror, the injury from the bullet is gone and you don't want to go to the hospital

One thing that is clear though is that you are extremely hungry and how dirty you feel. With this on your mind, you do your best to clean yourself up before going down to the kitchen

You don't feel comfortable talking to anyone so thankfully the rest of the family is busy at night,

Once you are sure no one is around, you take a bunch of snacks and hurry back to your room

In your room, you eat everything until you finally feel full. Hopefully, you don't just throw everything up because it feels so nice to finally have something in your stomach

Your nerves begin to relax and you truly take in the events that happened

How are they still alive? They were shot at and haven't had food for half a month. What happened? Did Bruce not get the ransom letter? Why did no one save you? Did your friends call you?

Quickly remembering your friends, you look for your phone but are unable to find it. Not wanting to worry your friends, you open up your laptop to contact your friends through there. You see that you've gotten multiple calls and messages from your friends and it honestly makes you happy, knowing that there were people that worried and cared about you. You quickly text your friends and tell them what happened (Not mentioning how you survived being shot)

During your chat, the topic changes to college stuff. Your senior year has just ended a couple of weeks ago and it would be good for you to move out and be closer to those that make you happy. Also, after the kidnapping, you don’t want to be near your current family. They were the reason you were kidnapped and didn’t even bother to help you

Your friends suggest going to college outside of Gotham, perhaps in Bludhaven.

After many years of being stuck in a family that does nothing but hurt you, you got an acceptance letter for a school in Bludhaven. You were so happy and had a small celebration with your friends. Unfortunately, none of your friends would be joining you but you couldn’t wait to truly be free. 

Alfred returns from his vacation and reviews all the work that he left behind, along with Bruce’s mail. He knows Bruce has likely already reviewed them but it helps Alfred get back on pace with his work

He finds the discarded ransom letter and immediately checks up on you.

When he goes to your room, he finds the room empty besides some items that you weren’t planning to bring to college with you. This worries Alfred more and goes to Bruce’s office to confront him about the letter.

Bruce is filled with immense guilt when he realizes he forgot that you existed and now you could be dead in an abandoned building. Him and the rest of your family completely forgot about you

Bruce has an emergency meeting with everyone where he explains the situation. Once a plan is set, they all go out in the night to find you. However, they only find loose restraints with dried-up blood and a broken phone.

When the family returns to the manor, Tim goes to his room to fix the phone, Bruce and Damian go to the Batcave to review the cameras, Dick and Jason decide to visit your room

With Alfred’s help, Dick and Jason find your room and take a look around. It isn’t the biggest and barely has anything in it. 

Jason finds some old and filled journals and looks through them. There is a checklist for school work, notes to yourself, and personal entries. He understands the emotions you put in your journal and wants to protect you. Especially when he reads your last entry about your kidnapping 

Dick looks at the decorations you have on the wall. There are some glow-in-the-dark stars, some posters from school events, etc. One of the posters is for a theater show and he wonders if you were a part of it. Either an actor or tech person, Dick wonders why he never heard about your shows. He attempts to take a poster off the wall but the tape used peeled some of the paint off the wall.

Bruce loads up the camera and looks at what happened the day the ransom letter was given to Bruce. You had this happy smile as you made sure you had everything you needed before going through the front door. About a week later, Bruce sees you on the camera, in bloodied clothes and completely exhausted. This brings a wave of relief to Bruce while Damian looks closely at the camera footage. The front of your shirt is covered in blood and has a hole in it, but you seem completely uninjured. 

The last thing the two see of you is you slowly taking your stuff out of the manor and officially moving out

Bruce and Damian find your room to update Dick and Jason on their findings.

They’re thankful that you’re alive but still need to see you in the flesh. Looking around your bedroom, there aren't many clues about where you have gone. 

Tim takes a few days to fix the damage on your phone. At the very least, he needs to save the data that was kept on the phone. After messing with a few parts of your phone, he transfers all the data to his computers.

Once everything is saved, Tim lets his curiosity get the best of him and looks through all of your stuff before informing the rest of the family. All your photos, text messages, etc. He sees all the calls and voicemails your friends sent you on the day you were kidnapped.

Tim continues to learn more about your interests and your efforts to spend time with the family. You ranting to your friends about only playing a game or reading a book because someone in the family has read or played it.

Tim ends up having a copy of all your data for personal use before speaking to the rest of the family

Your phone is finally fixed and Tim can use it to find the location of your laptop. All the way in Bludhaven

With new hope, the family begins their search for you

They just need to take you home and keep you safe

Forever

[pickingupmymercedes]

A bit mushy - Lewis Hamilton

Let's see how Lewis and his wife do in a Couple's Interview.

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: none

wordcount: +3k

a/n: Fun and light Lewis for the win, again thanks a million times to @greedyjudge2 for the idea and for some of the questions, I know I don't usually write carefree Lewis but it's my favorite ❤️❤️

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

_______________________________________

The room was buzzing—cameras being adjusted, light stands tweaked and a handful of crew members chatting as they waited for everything to come together.

Lewis sat comfortably on the low-slung, cushy armchair beside his wife, his hand resting casually on the back of her seat tracing lazy circles on her back. They looked impossibly relaxed, as if the cameras were invisible, and this was just another day at home.

The director, a laid-back guy with a coffee stain on his jeans and a clipboard that looked way too serious for the vibe of the shoot, strolled over.

He was juggling his phone and an energy drink, clearly a man trying to keep his cool while wrangling two of the most charismatic people in motorsports.

“Okay, so this should be easy” he started, his voice overly casual like he almost didn’t want to disturb the couple’s chemistry “No serious stuff. No PR-approved answers. We’re here for the real deal. Just answering a few questions about each other, nothing too scandalous. Think... fun, but, y’know, juicy enough to make people smile.”

Lewis’s wife, legs crossed and leaning slightly into her husband’s space, raised an eyebrow. “Define juicy” a sly smile tugging at her lips.

The director chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “You know, like... light-hearted scandal. Stuff people don’t already know. Maybe embarrass him a little—" he motioned to Lewis—"but in a cute way.”

Lewis shot the director a mock glare “Right, you don’t really need to ask her that” he said, his voice dripping with good-humored sarcasm.

His wife snorted, turning to face him with a grin. “Promise not to dig too deep. Unless we’re talking about those sneakers you wore to the beach...”

Lewis groaned, tilting his head back dramatically. “Not the beach sneakers again! One time and I’m branded for life.”

The crew around them snickered, and even the sound guy adjusted his headphones to cover a grin.

There was something about the way they bickered that had the whole room leaning in, as if everyone was witnessing the most intimate, casual conversation between two people who just fit.

The director, fully entertained, motioned to the cameraman to get ready. “Alright, alright. Let’s save the good stuff for the shoot. Remember, it’s just you two being yourselves. No need to put on a show.”

His wife reached over and squeezed Lewis’s hand. “No promises.”

As they shared a quiet laugh, the subtle touches and glances between them were enough to make anyone nearby smile. There was no need for grand gestures—the way they leaned into each other, how their conversations flowed effortlessly, said more than any scripted moment ever could.

They had that kind of love that made everyone else feel like they were in on something out of ordinary, just by watching.

The cameras zoomed in slowly as the couple got comfortable in their seats. Lewis leaned back, his arm still slung casually around his wife’s chair, his body slight angled so he could face her better, and she tucked one leg underneath her, turning toward him like she always did when they were in the middle of one of their many quiet conversations.

Except this wasn’t quite so quiet. The cameras were rolling now, and the world was about to get a glimpse into how they were with each other.

The director's voice came through, just loud enough to hear but never intrusive.

“Alright, let’s get this rolling. What embarrassing fashion trend did you take part in?”

Lewis immediately leaned forward, rubbing his hands together as if he was preparing for battle. “I’ll own this one. Bandanas. Wore them with everything back in the day. Thought I was some kind of rockstar or something.”

She tilted her head, eyebrows shooting up. “Bandanas?” she asked, feigning surprise. Her eyes glimmered with mischief, and she leaned closer, as if letting the audience in on a secret. “You sure it wasn’t the Timberlands?”

Lewis threw his head back with a groan, already knowing where this was headed. “Not the Timbs,” he mumbled, shaking his head like he was in actual pain.

“Yeah, the Timbs” she said, fully grinning now. “Let me remind you, you used to wear them with everything. Jeans, tracksuits, shorts, suits—”

Lewis raised a hand, stopping her, though there was a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I still stand by those, alright? I don’t care what anyone says. Timbs are timeless.”

She rolled her eyes playfully, patting his leg. “Sure, babe. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

The banter between them came so naturally, it was easy to forget there were cameras pointed right at them. The crew standing around had mostly stopped what they were doing, some watching the couple with amused smirks, others clearly touched by how playful yet undeniably affectionate they were towards each other.

“Okay, next question: What first attracted you to each other?”

Lewis’s wife leaned back, narrowing her eyes like she was trying to come up with something profound. “His sense of style,” she deadpanned, lips twitching as she fought back a grin.

Lewis blinked, his head cocked to the side. “Seriously? You were just attacking my Timbs? That guy’s sense of style?”

For a moment, she held her ground, lips pursed in mock-seriousness. But after a few seconds of staring at him—his bewildered look, the way he was just waiting for her to crack—she broke. Her laugh wasn’t exactly loud but it filled the room.

“Okay, fine!” She reached out, her hand landing on his thigh, fingers curling into the fabric of his pants. “It was your eyes.”

Lewis’s eyebrows shot up as he gave her a soft smile. He just stared at her, thrown off by her sudden honesty.

She smiled, her gaze softening too as she looked at him. “They’re intense, you know? Like you see things really deeply. The way you look at the world... it’s impossible not to notice.”

Lewis was quiet for a beat, his usual witty retorts momentarily forgotten. His hand moved instinctively to cover hers on his leg, squeezing it gently. “Well, damn” he finally said, his voice quieter than before, almost reverent.

The room around them seemed to still. There was something about the way they looked at each other that made it feel like they were the only ones there, like everyone else had faded away.

“Next one—‘On what occasion have you lied to me?’”

Lewis’s eyes went wide, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he glanced at his wife. “Uh… Remember when I blamed Roscoe for loosing up your house shoes?”

Her mouth dropped open as she stared at him in disbelief. “No. You’re telling me you wore my house shoes, Lewis?!”

He winced, trying to play it cool. “I mean… It was just that one time! They looked comfy, and my feet were cold. I didn’t think you’d notice.”

“Oh, I noticed,” she said, crossing her arms. “I just thought Roscoe had lied on them, not that your big feet had wrecked them!”

The crew chuckled, sensing the playful tension building between them.

“Roscoe was the perfect scapegoat…” Lewis defended himself.

“My poor baby” she sighed dramatically, shaking her head. “You threw him under the bus!”

“He didn’t seem to mind,” Lewis replied with a smirk, leaning closer to her, his tone turning softer. “But hey, I bought you new ones”

She raised a brow, clearly amused but still pretending to be serious.

“Have I ever made you jealous?”

Lewis leaned back, arms crossed over his chest, a playful smirk creeping across his face as he quipped in before she could. “She has, yes.”

His wife’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh? When exactly?”

He didn’t answer immediately, taking his time like he always did when he wanted to build up the suspense. She leaned in; her curiosity evident in the way her lips quirked. “Come on, give me the details.”

Lewis shook his head, clearly amused. “The silver dress” he said, voice low.

For a second, she didn’t react, clearly trying to place the memory. Then, like a lightbulb flicking on, her eyes widened in recognition. “Ohhh, that night!”

Her laughter exploded from her, loud and sudden, catching even the crew off guard. She leaned back in her chair, clutching her stomach slightly as she laughed, while Lewis sat there, arms still crossed, trying his best to look annoyed but clearly failing.

“That night was something” she said between laughs, her eyes shimmering with tears of amusement.

Lewis sighed, shaking his head. “I’m glad you think it was so funny.”

“Oh, babe, you were so grumpy” she teased, nudging him with her foot.

Lewis didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he just looked at her with that mix of exasperation and fondness that made it clear that, no matter what she did, she was always going to get away with it.

“What’s a song that reminds you of each other?”

This time, she didn’t even hesitate. “A Life Like This by Nao.”

Lewis’s face softened immediately. “Why that one?”

She smiled, but it wasn’t her usual teasing grin. This one was softer, more intimate. “Because... before you, I was just going through life, you know? Things were just happening, and I wasn’t really... present. Then you came along, and it was like everything shifted. It was like my Saturn return was finally over, and I could just... breathe.”

For a moment, Lewis said nothing. His face betrayed him—no amount of his typical coolness could hide the way her words hit him.

He leaned forward slightly, his hand brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re really gonna get me emotional, huh?” he murmured, his voice so low only she and the mic could pick up on his voice.

She just smiled; her eyes full of love. “That’s the plan.”

The crew exchanged looks and quiet smiles. It was impossible not to feel the connection between them, like they were watching something precious unfold right in front of them.

“What’s something you wish you did more often?”

Lewis leaned back, thinking for a moment. “Lazy mornings.”

She smiled, nodding. “Yeah?”

“Yeah” he said softly, his eyes on her. “No alarms, no schedules, no meetings. Just us. Laying in bed, talking, laughing... not worrying about what we have to do next.”

She nodded again, her smile turning wistful. “Yeah.”

Their eyes met, and once again, the room seemed to shrink around them, leaving just the two of them in their little bubble.

“Okay love birds, next up ‘What is the most treasured possession that the other has given you?’”

She paused, tapping her chin as if she really had to think about it, though the answer was clearly already on her mind. “The necklace you gave me on our third date.”

The director blinked, looking between them. “Third date?”

“Oh yeah” she nodded, leaning back in her chair, eyes sparkling as she shot Lewis a teasing look. “He was whipped by then.”

Lewis rolled his eyes, though a smile tugged at his lips. “You make it sound like I was proposing marriage.”

“You weren’t far off, though” she teased, reaching for the necklace hanging delicately around her neck. “He gave me this beautiful pendant, that he designed himself, by the way, and I remember thinking, ‘Okay, this guy is serious.’”

Lewis chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “I knew what I wanted.”

“That you did” she teased, nudging him with her elbow.

“Yeah” he grinned. “No point in playing games.”

She looked down at the necklace again, her voice softening. “It’s not just the necklace though. It’s what it represented. He was showing me he wasn’t just there for fun—he was there for real.”

Lewis met her gaze, his smile quieter now, filled with affection. “I meant it then, and I mean it now.”

“When did you first know that you were in love?”

This time, she was the one to hesitate, a mischievous glint in her eye. “In love with whom?” she asked, biting her lip to keep from laughing.

Lewis groaned, leaning forward and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Oh, don’t start.”

She giggled, clearly enjoying every second of his exasperation. “I knew I loved you when we went through about a dozen paint stores in Milan looking for the perfect shade of gold for that painting.”

Lewis raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh, didn’t remember that.”

“Yeah,” she said softly. “I could’ve just mixed the colors myself and gotten something close. But you were so invested in finding the exact match that I just... I kept going. And I knew it then. I knew I loved you because you cared about the little things, the details that most people would overlook.”

Lewis stared at her; his face unreadable. Then, slowly, he smiled—a soft, genuine smile that seemed to melt the room around them.

“What’s your favorite memory of the two of you?”

Lewis leaned back, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “That time we missed the flight in Paris.”

She let out a groan, breaking the feeling in the room, she already knew where this story was headed. “Nooo, not that!”

“Yep,” Lewis said with a smile. “So we were in Paris, right? And someone—” he pointed at her playfully, “—was absolutely convinced that the subway would get us to the airport faster than any car could.”

“It would’ve!” she protested, already laughing. “The traffic was insane!”

“Yeah sure” he replied, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “So there we were, dragging our bumps through the subway stations, hopping from one line to the next. Every station was like a maze, and we were so lost. I kept telling you, ‘Let’s just get a cab,’ but nooo, you were determined.”

She shook her head, smiling. “It was an adventure!”

“It was chaos and we missed the flight by hours” Lewis corrected, his voice teasing but fond.

“But honestly? It’s one of my favorite memories. You were so carefree, so determined, so in the present. We were lost in Paris but we weren’t lost within ourselves.”

Her smile softened, her eyes holding his for a long moment. “You never told me that was your favorite memory.”

“Yeah” he said quietly, his voice more sincere now. “I felt like we could just... slow down. Be present. No pressure, no expectations. Just you and me.”

For a moment, they were silent, the weight of his words settling between them. The room around them was so still that the soft hum of the cameras was the only sound. The crew watched them closely, as if holding their collective breath.

She leaned over, resting her head on his shoulder, and whispered just loud enough for the microphones to catch “I think that’s my favorite memory now, too.”

Lewis smiled, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head, and for a few seconds, it was like the cameras weren’t even there. It was just them, lost in a shared memory, a world of their own.

The director, sensing the intimacy of the moment, cleared his throat gently.

“Alright, now to wrap this up ‘When can we expect little Hamiltons running around?”

Both Lewis and his wife exchanged quick glances, and almost in unison, they burst out laughing—only this time, their laughter had a bit of an edge, like they knew something the room didn’t.

Lewis leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hands together. “Ooooh, good one.”

“You had to go there, didn’t you?” she added, her eyes wide with exaggerated innocence. “Real smooth.”

The crew, sensing the couple was playing coy, leaned in just a bit, waiting for a juicy response. But instead, Lewis leaned forward, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “Well, you never know, right?”

His wife smirked, glancing at him sideways, playing along. “When you least expect it”

The director, not quite satisfied, pressed on. “Any plans in the near future?”

“Oh, besides, like, tomorrow’s plans?” she quipped, keeping the teasing energy alive.

Lewis chimed in again, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “We’ve got a lot of plans. Travel, Roscoe’s bath time…”

The director chuckled, shaking his head. “Dodging the question, I see.”

Lewis gave a knowing look to the camera, adding one final, cryptic comment. “We’ll let you know when it happens... maybe.”

And with that, they both smiled at the cameras, their laughter filling the air as the director called “cut” for the final time.

The room gradually came back to life, the hum of equipment being packed up and crew members chatting quietly filling the air. The couple stayed seated, though, still caught in the gentle pull of their shared moment, almost unaware of the bustling scene around them.

Lewis exhaled slowly, his shoulders relaxing as he glanced at his wife, his arm instinctively pulling her a little closer. She smiled, still leaning into him, her head resting against his shoulder, fingers absentmindedly playing with his fingers.

“That was a bit mushy, wasn’t it?” she murmured, a teasing lilt to her voice, though there was warmth in her eyes as she gazed up at him.

Lewis smirked, brushing his thumb gently against her arm. “Just a little. But you started it.”

She chuckled softly, nuzzling into his shoulder. “Tou’re not usually one for getting all sentimental on camera.”

He shrugged lightly, but there was no real defensiveness in his posture.

She smiled, her heart swelling at the softness in his gestures. “Good. I like you better that way.”

She sighed softly, sitting up a little and stretching her arms out with a satisfied groan. “People are going to think we’re a pair of softies.”

Lewis chuckled, the sound low and rumbling in his chest. “Let them.”

She smiled, sitting back in her chair and looking at him with a tenderness that only deepened as she reached out, her hand cupping his cheek for a brief moment. “I guess it’s not the worst thing to be.”

He leaned into her touch, his eyes closing briefly before he opened them and looked straight at her. “Nah, it’s not.”

Unbeknownst to them, the cameras were still rolling—just a little, a behind-the-scenes shot meant to capture those moments of candidness. The crew tried to keep their distance, giving the couple their space, but every now and then, someone would glance over, a quiet smile tugging at their lips. There was something undeniably magnetic about Lewis and his wife, the way they moved around each other, the way they fit together.

Without thinking, he stood up and extended a hand to her, pulling her up from her seat. As she stood, she let out a small laugh, one that was soft and filled with affection. But before she could fully straighten up, Lewis slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his chest in a gentle, protective embrace.

For a second, she stiffened—more out of surprise than anything—but then she melted into him, wrapping her arms around his neck. It was a simple gesture, nothing extravagant, but in that moment, it was everything.

“Alright, lover boy” she murmured, her voice laced with contentment. “What’s all this about?”

“Just holding you” he replied simply, his voice low and soothing, the kind of tone he used when it was just the two of them, no audience, no pressure. “Feels like we haven’t had a minute to ourselves in forever.”

She smiled as she found her place on the crock of his neck, her fingers absently tracing circles on the back of his neck “You’ll get them,” she promised quietly. “We’ll make time.”

Eventually, Lewis pulled back slightly, just enough to look down at her, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “You know,” he started, his tone teasing “about those Timbs.”

She groaned, playfully swatting at his chest. “I thought we agreed to leave the Timbs in the past.”

“I never agreed to that” he grinned, tightening his arms around her playfully. “I’m still rocking them, remember?”

She rolled her eyes, but the smile on her face betrayed her. “Well, at least one of us has evolved.”

He laughed, pressing a soft kiss to her head. “Maybe. But you love me anyway.”

“I do,” she said softly, the sincerity of the words wrapping around them both like a warm blanket. “I really do.”

______________________________________________________________

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[eupheme]

— double the pleasure, triple the fun

[part iii of come on and show me | masterlist]

logan howlett x f!reader x wade wilson

rated e - 5.6k

tags: MMF threesome, mutual pining/crushes all around, dirty talk, poly relationship, multi-tasking, the world's worst romantic porposition, oral sex, vaginal fingering, ass play (fingering & rimming), double penetration, creampies, fluff and feelings

a/n: massive thank you to the wonderfully talented @avocado-writing, who kindly beta'd this for me! 💖

“Are you asking me out?” It comes slowly, in a rough rasp. 

It’s you that turns then, your eyes finding his. Your smile is sweet - a swirling heat of hope in your belly, “Depends on your answer.”

There’s something dark in his eyes. A curl of his lips, as his head dips. A kiss pressed against your spine, then lower. 

“Come on Wilson.” Logan husks, “Let’s get our girl ready.”

(Or, your two becomes three.)

“God, I want him to put a baby in me.”

Wade’s sigh rumbles beneath your ear, where your head cradles against his chest. 

Legs entwined as you stretch out together on the couch - a late-night wind-down after your boyfriend spent the evening picking out his To-Do List at Sister Margaret's.

To kill. Not fuck, apparently. Something he was quick to clarify.

“What are you watching?” Your eyes pull away from your own phone - seventeen chapters into an enemies-to-lovers slow burn you haven’t been able to put down all evening. 

A little stretch, as your head tilts to face him - knuckles propped under your chin, “That video has been looping for like, ten minutes.”

“And yet, still not long enough,” He sighs, flashing the screen at you, “Sir Mix-a-Lot, you never miss.”

The video flickers, a quick and skillful transition of clips - your eyes squinting at the screen from your angle.

“Is that... Logan?”

“Close, baby girl.” His finger boops against your nose, “Huge Ackman.”

There’s a little shake of your head, as your shoulder lifts, “I don’t know who that is.”

“And thank god,” He grins, letting the phone drop onto the cushions. A shift, as his hands dips against the small of your back, “If you did, you would divorce me so fast-“

Your eyes roll, as you bite back a grin, “I wouldn’t.”

“Definitely, maybe.”

Wade grunts as you push yourself with a huff - head dipping to press your lips against his. A low swirl in your belly, as his eyes go soft and his smile goes dopey. 

“I love you, Wade Winston Wilson,” You grin back, “New fake boyfriends and all, apparently.”

He hums, head tilting.

“And what about not-so-fake boyfriends?”

Your brow furrows.

“You are talking about Logan now, right?”

Wade’s knuckles brush your cheek, the humor in his eyes turning searching, “What do you think?”

And what a question it is. 

You’ve talked about it often. The occasional partner had cycled in for a night or two, but there had never been someone that struck you both like Logan had, arriving in your lives like a storm of thunder and lightning.

And you can’t deny that there’s feelings. Obvious ones, apparently, with how you acted in the past. Wade was still teasing you about your jealousy - you never had a handle on that emotion in the way he did. 

That innate knowledge of how he felt about someone, trusted them. Flirting was easy, but you’ve seen the way he looks at Logan, too.

It was different. Special.

“Two musketeers becoming the full set,” He holds his fingers up in front of you, two and then three, “Only unlike them, we’re fucking.”

You let out a sound of dissent, with the lift of a shoulder. 

“Oh, worm?” His brow raises, “Guess Disney wasn’t ready for that, either. Dibs on the religious one, then. I am a man of the cloth.”

“It’s a bad analogy, there’s four of them.”

He chuckles indulgently, “Okay, now I think you’re making things up-“

Now it’s your hand reaching, a finger tapping against his lips.

“I’d like that. I think Logan being our… boyfriend-” The word sends a rush of heat to your face as you stutter over it, Wade’s eyes gleaming.

“Oh my god, you are so fucking cute.” He crows, “We’ve fucked nasty-style and you can’t even say boyfriend-”

Your face buried in his chest, his name a muffled whine. A beat as the laughter still rumbles in his chest, before you peek at him.

“Do you think he wants that, too?”

“Oh, absolutely.” Wade hums, “That man is at least a 6 on the Yearning Richter scale. Felt by all, many frightened.”

You brighten at that prospect - your brain is already slipping ahead, “Do you think we should like, plan something? Ask him together?”

“Oh, don’t worry, gorgeous.” Wade grins.

“I’ll handle it.”

It's strange, seeing Logan in your space.

A good strange. A strange that feels nice - the subtle sweep of his eyes, as he takes in your apartment. The bag slung over his shoulder already tucked in your room, set on the ottoman at the foot of your bed.

He fits in, you think. Tucked into your couch as you put the finishing touches on dinner. Too used to being in their shared space at Wade’s. Of stolen moments when Althea was out. Hushed moments when she was home, muffled moans and bitten-back sighs.  

It will be nice to be able to take your time. 

They had arrived together, and there had been a certain thrill to that, too. 

Wade's knock that mimics the opening beats of "Smooth", before the door burst open. Funny to think about them crammed in a car together - they took Althea's, Wade tells you, when you later asked if they'd walked.

How he was already turning to you to referee, as you tip your head to kiss his cheek. 

"All I'm asking is if we're both sheathing our swords in the same scabbard, then why is he getting his panties in a twist about me putting my clothes in his bag?"

"Ignore him, sweetheart," Logan softens, leaning into the matching kiss you press against his jaw, "Been doing that for the last two months. It's good to see you."

And it is. Good to see both of them, something warm glowing bright in your chest.

The round table that always felt a little big for two feels perfect now - tucking between each other as dinner passes in a warm jumble of savory aromas and comfortable conversation. 

Smiling at the way they're both as engaged with your stories about your day, as you are about the work they've been doing together.

"-absolutely vaporized. It was disgusting, babe." Wade grimaces, "I was fine of course. Red, and all. But Lo here, eeugh. Still scrubbing the blood out of the nooks and crannies."

Logan makes a grunt of acknowledgement, "Had worse."

"Worse? Worse than getting gut-mist blasted across your chest?"

"I'll help, if you want." You offer, "Haven't seen your new suit yet."

At Wade's request, you try to keep out of his business - other than the stories he shares, the occasional repairs of his suit. Doesn't want his life mixing, not after what's happened in the past. 

Dutiful boyfriend by day, mercenary by night. And also sometimes, by day. Evenings, weekends.

It’s an unsteady schedule, but it's one you've grown accustomed to. Maybe that’s what helps make this easy, the way you’ve already adjusted to mutant-regenerative-boyfriend-life. 

But it doesn't mean you're not curious. That you don't appreciate certain aspects - especially when they come in tightly wrapped in leather and lycra. 

And when you eventually rise to collect dishes, it's Logan that beats you to it. A finger sternly pointed towards the couch, Wade's hand at your back - already guiding you towards it, as you protest.

"Least we can do, sweetheart," Logan smiles, "Can't remember the last time I had a meal this good."

"Excuse me," Wade gasps, as he slips on elbow-length mis-matched gloves,"Did my midnight toaster strudels mean nothing to you?"

It's your turn now, to sit on the couch. To watch, as Wade supervises. The quiet talk that swiftly turns to bickering. A yelp and a splash of hot water, before he's retreating.

Sinking down on the seat next to you, as your thoughts swirl. Soft memories of past shared evenings, and the planting of something that you’ll tend to carefully, hoping it will flourish. 

"You're looking at him like he's got balls on his neck," Wade’s arm slings around your shoulders, tone knowing, "Got something on your mind, gorgeous?"

Your nose wrinkles at the visual, but then you turn thoughtful.

"Just like seeing both of you here." Your smile is soft, "It feels right, you know?"

He hums in agreement, and you glance his way, "Do you feel that way too?"

"Feels as right as Ryan Reynolds playing me in my upcoming biopic."

That has you cocking an eyebrow - whatever reference he's making flying over your head, "And that's... good?"

"Yeah, baby." He grins.

"Really fucking good." 

The hunger follows you into the bedroom, after. Your question about dessert gets swiftly turned around on you - hands catching at your waist. 

Threats and promises  to devour you instead - that the ice cream you bought can wait - as lips press against yours. Another mouth at your neck, in your slow and often-interrupted journey to the bedroom. 

Ganging up on you again, almost as if it were planned. 

And you’re not sure if it was, or whether they’ve unconsciously become more in-sync, between their hours together at the apartment and in their work. 

More alike than they are different, at their core - something you’re not sure you’d be able to convince them of, even though you see it.

It’s sweetly familiar, when you finally fall into bed together. Clothes already stripped off, a messy pile mixing together against the woven floral rug as you fit together. 

Spit pools on Logan’s tongue, as he sucks on his teeth. A low tilt of his head before his lips are parting, letting it drop where he has your thighs nudged apart, belly pressed down against the bed.

Warm, where it hits the cleft of your ass. His hand follows - a broad palm curving against soft skin, tugging you open. 

“What do I have to do to let me have you here?” Logan’s thumb smears his spit against the tight ring, voice low and honey-smooth. 

It makes you jolt, a soft sound pulling from your throat. Squirming, as his thumb comes back - rolling the pad against you. 

“She, shit-” Wade groans, as your mouth leaves his cock - the tip glistening as it drops against his belly, “Only lets people she’s dating fuck her ass.”

“Wade!” You whine, as your thighs try to close - Logan’s spreading to keep you open. 

A low rasp of a laugh, “Is that right?”

“Not me though. If you’re curious.” Wade hums, his arm still slung under the pillow, “Sometimes even a first date is too slow.”

Dark eyes drag up, to the shift of hips. Over the leaking cock, lying flushed and hard against Wade’s belly - something like hunger in the slow sweep up to the pulled-wide grin.

“This is you handling it?” You hiss.

“You’re acting like the man invented the elevator.” Wade shrugs - shifting to push himself up on an elbow, “Trust me, there is nothing more romantic than a ‘what are we’ conversation slipped into a discussion about double penetration. We’re multi-tasking, gorgeous.”

Some of the tension eases, with the way he smiles at you. There’s not an ounce of worry in his expression, only the dark shadow of desire, highlighted with humor. 

Waiting until you smile back, before he fixes Logan with a pointed look. 

“Look. I’m gonna level with you,” He sighs, as if divulging something imperative, ”Until you’re ready to commit to being Mr. Y/L/N, then fifth base is just gonna be out of the question.”

There’s the shake of a head, a low huff behind you. The slight stroke of fingers against your skin.

“Are you asking me out?” It comes slowly, in a rough rasp. As if putting pieces together. 

It’s you that turns then, your eyes finding his. Your smile is sweet - a swirling heat of hope in your belly, “Depends on your answer.”

There’s something dark in his eyes. A curl of his lips, as his head dips.

A kiss pressed against your spine, then lower. 

“Come on Wilson.” He husks, “Let’s get our girl ready.”

A moan rips from you. First, from his words - the jolting butterflies in your belly, a pooling warmth. The sound lengthening, as his tongue flattens where his fingers had teased. Your back arches as Wade pumps his fist, before throwing a filthy “I-Told-You-So” smirk your way.

It glances off you. Your fingers curled in the sheets, as Logan shoulders your thighs further apart. A wet swipe that travels from your cunt to your hole, smearing your slick and his spit against your skin. 

A finger nudging against you, as Wade leans - hand fumbling for the handle of the bedside table. 

“You think you can take both of us?” Logan purrs, as he carefully works you open. A fingertip sinking inside you, as you whine. 

”What, you think we were joking about role-playing?” Wade scoffs,”Why did you think all the dinner knives were missing? Lost ‘em all beneath the bed.”

There’s a shuffle, as he works himself further beneath you. A bottle of lube dropped on the bedspread, as his fingers reach - petting against your clit.

“Tried two before, didn’t we gorgeous? Me and the Pulverine, as we call him.” Wade coos, “Not as big as you, of course. But definitely a lot more sparkly.” 

“Toy’s not the same thing,” Logan hums, as you clench around him. Sinking deeper, slowly pumping, “‘s gonna be a tight fit, baby.”

The sensations are already overwhelming. Wade’s fingers slipping down - fitting one, and then two fingers inside your slick pussy. His thumb nudging against your clit, teasing.

Logan’s weight against you, shifting as his hips grind into the mattress. The messy swirl of his tongue, more spit added to the mess. His thick finger already feels like a lot, pressed down to the knuckle. Slow in the way he works you open, the hot embers in your belly roaring brighter.

“I want it.” You moan, “Want both of you.” 

Wanted it for a while now. Wondered if they’d take you like this. If you’d be able to take them, stuffed so full you could barely draw breath. Wanting to know what it feels like to come, with both of them pressed to the hilt inside you. 

Words fail you, soon after. There’s the cold smear of lube against your skin, a second finger notched. Your cry muffled with the press of Wade’s lips, tilting your face to his as their fingers find their rhythm together.

That steady swirl against your clit. How you’re clenching around them, your arousal slick on Wade’s palm. The sharp rhythmic slap ringing through your ears as you pant into his mouth. Logan’s teeth against the soft curve of your ass, a muffled groan as he fits a second inside you. 

It’s a mimicry of later, but it’s enough. Something bright burning in your belly, fueled by their desire. Hot breath against your skin, Wade’s cock grinding into your hip. 

“Come on, gorgeous.” He murmurs against you, “Let me feel you come with his fingers buried in your ass.”

You choke on your moan. Hips shifting, pushing one deeper and then the other as you chase the building high. The sharp stretch long spooling into pleasure, twisting around your guts, shimmering. 

“‘m gonna-” It’s breathed out, your eyes screwing shut. Focused on the countdown  that’s begun inside you, swiftly approaching with each crook of their fingers, “Fuck, I’m-”

Logan shifts, his breath ghosting against your spine, “Come for us, sweetheart.”

For us. 

Your face buries against Wade’s shoulder, as they bring you over the edge together. Working in tandem to take you apart, and they haven’t even really begun - fingers crooking and curling as a bright pleasure blooms in your belly. 

Wade had been right - it’s not the first time you’ve been full like this. But Logan was right, too. It’s different - the way you can feel them move together, as you whine. The orgasm ripples through you, the sensations drawing out as kisses are dropped between your shoulder blades. 

Soft crooning in your ear, but it’s all muted - barely aware of the palms that run across your skin. The press of mouths against your heated skin - until the pulses in your core fades, the room coming back into focus. 

They slip from you - first Wade, and then Logan. You’ve felt empty before but never like this, already missing the weight inside you. Craving more.

There’s a shift on the bed, Logan shouldering himself next to Wade, who you’re still stretched out on. 

“C’mere, baby. Fuck, need to feel you.”

Hand at your hips, coaxing you up. Encouraging you to straddle his thighs, but then Wade is tsking - reaching for you, trying to turn you around.

“Annnd I just gave myself a promotion to Director,” He adds with a long-suffering sigh, “When you want something done right, gotta do it yourself.”

Logan growls, as your weight leaves him, “The fuck you talking about?”

Wade’s brow arches, “The fuck I’m talking about is you doing this all wrong, peanut. When was the last time you partook in the devil’s threeway? Was it this century, at least?”

Hand gentle as he guides you to face away from Logan, your ass settling against the cradle of his hips.

“There you go,” He coos, “How am I going to give your pretty little kitty the attention she deserves if you have her all hidden away?”

Logan’s hard cock nestles against your belly, as your knees press into the mattress. Breath hitching as you gauge the size of him again. Hoping that the prep he did was enough - the soft buzz beneath your skin certainly has you feeling more than ready.

Slicking your fingers with more lube before they wrap around his shaft - a rough hiss sliding from his throat as they circle around, squeezing. Smearing it against swollen flesh, thumbing over the leaking head as you line yourself up. 

Wade shifting to watch, his head tilted against Logan’s shoulder, his fist already wrapped around his cock as you start to slowly sink down. 

“Sit on it, sweetheart, there you go.” Logan growls, as he breaches you. 

A sharp, inhaled breath as the tip sinks inside you. The building pressure and then the give - as you try not to clench down.

Pulling a rough sound from him. Fingers twitching at your hips - set on only steadying you. A rough edge creeping into his soft encouragement, “Nice and easy, baby.”

Another inch, but it feels like double. Sweat beading along the nape of your neck, as you stretch around him.

“Doing so good,” He rasps, “Take it slow.”

“Taking it like a fucking champ, baby.” Wade interjects, “Couldn’t have done it better myself, and Levy knows how often I thought about it.”

Your nails bite into his thighs, but it only makes his hips flex. Twin moans when it nudges him the rest of the way - your breath stolen when he’s seated flush inside you.

Not that different than when Wade’s fucked you, even with the length he’s got on Logan. But it’s the girth that has your lips parting - a ragged moan with the experimental roll of your hips.

“Pretty fucking sight.” Logan groans, through gritted teeth. Palms slipping around, gently tugging you back towards his chest.

His growl low in your ear, as his hips lift in an experiment thrust.

“Gonna stuff you full, gonna let us do the work.” He husks, a hissed breath when you clench around him. “Make you feel good, alright?”

Palming at your tits, as Wade shifts into position. Swallowing your begging, whined out “please-” as he kisses down your throat. 

Over your breasts. The back of Logan’s hand, against the curve of your belly. His fist still working at his cock, an audible moan of appreciation when he settles between Logan’s thighs.

“You look so good full of him.” It’s mumbled out against your hip, “God, I want to jerk off to this and let you use my cum as lube.”

Logan’s fingers tighten - pinching a peaked nipple as you moan, as kisses are peppered against your mound.

“Fuck us into your tight ass.”

You cry out, when his tongue flattens against your clit. Fingers teasing at your hole, dipping inside to test how full you feel. 

“Soaking wet, baby. You feeling good?” Wade croons, “Or does your greedy little pussy need more?”

“Wade,” You keen, desperate. Rocking into the slow pump of Logan’s hips, his breath harsh in your ear.

His fingers crook, and curl.

“You want us to take you there and back again to pound town?” 

“I swear to god,” You pant, desperate, “If you don’t get inside me, I’ll-, I’ll call Nate.”

His eyes gleam, “That right? Still thinking about riding the ol’ Cable car?”

It’s Logan’s added growl that finally gets him moving. A smile still pulling wide, as he slips from you. His own desperation betrayed by the wet smear against his belly.

The slick tip of his cock, as he ruts against your folds. Your breath held, as he notches himself.

His dark eyes on your blown-wide ones, as he starts to sink in. It has your thighs trembling, as you whine. Clenching down without meaning to, as Logan groans.

Feeling the way he inches into you. What little space left filled as your pussy makes room for him. The tight clutch of your walls, a moan at the way he can feel Logan through the thin layer of skin between them.

A choked-out moan punched from his chest. 

“Made to take us both. Weren’t you, gorgeous?” He murmurs, as his hips move, “Goddamn perfect fit.”

They both move inside you. Stilted thrusts, off rhythm as you squirm between them. Logan getting impatient - throwing a glare Wade’s way.

“Stop moving when I do.”

It’s met with a laugh, as Wade’s hip snap a little harder. Filling you, the force jolting you against Logan, as your nails bite into his biceps.

“I’m driving this thing.” He counters, “Call me Sandra Bullock, because I’m not about to let this bus dip below 50.”

His hand catching Logan’s wrist - resistance when he tugs, but then it’s going with him. Fitting the curve of his fingers against the base of your throat.

“You do what you do best and be the anchor. Keep her still for me, will you?” 

Logan’s fingers flex, but he grunts - the slightest pressure against your chest. 

A pat against your hip, with a wink, “Let Daddypool do all the work.”

You huff, but the sound turns strangled as the sets the pace. Hands at your hips, tugging you to meet his thrusts. Fucking you back on to Logan, when his weight presses into you.

“There we fucking go. How you feeling, baby?”

“Feels so good,”You gasp, as the movement gets familiar. The slick slide of them inside you, the back and forth as they stroke your walls, as your arousal gleams against their cocks. 

“Know it does.” Wade grins, “They don’t call me DP for nothing.”

Logan grunts beneath you. Something biting held back - distracted, as his other hand wanders. Slipping across your hip, then down.

Tracing over your mound. Feather-light against your folds, feeling how you stretch open each time Wade goes balls-deep. 

Your moan coming out ragged, when he teases your clit. Soft strokes with the pad of his finger, before two press and circle.

It makes you jolt, his laugh low in your ear.

Finding that familiar rhythm. Feeling the way your hips flex, seeking out his touch. How easily he’s able to wind you up now, from the times he’s taken you apart. 

How it’s almost overwhelming, with the stuffed-full pressure of them inside you. With the saw of Wade’s hips, as his cock nudges against the spongy spot inside you.

A rough hum when you clench down. Unable to do more than take what he gives you, with the way Logan cradles you against his chest.

It only adds to the surge of pleasure inside you. A near-divine pairing of sensations that has your fingers reaching, Wade’s name a soft cry on your lips. 

He flattens against you, to meet the way your mouth tips up. It’s messy, open-mouthed as his hips slow to a grind. Hands skating up your body, against hips and waist.

Letting him in when he deepens it. A groan as he licks against your teeth. Needy presses of his mouth, spit smeared across your lips when it breaks. Another kiss  peppered against your jaw, where Logan groans into your ear. 

A unconscious shift of his head, and then their lips are brushing.

Logan’s cock throbs inside you, as Wade goes stiff and still. It’s softer than it should be - no more than a shared breath, before Wade pulls back. 

The hand at your neck flexes. Loosens, as it slips between you. Wrapping around the back of Wade’s neck as he yanks him back down.

A growled out “fuck” when they meet again, insistant this time. Vicious with the scrape of teeth, the wet swipe of tongue as Logan’s nails bite into skin.

Messy, as they pant into each other's mouths. Calloused fingers drifting down from your clit to split against your folds. Teasing where you’re filled, as Wade’s moan turns filthy.

A matching sound escaping from Logan, long held back. 

“Fucking holding out on me,” Wade mumbles, when the kiss breaks, “Haven’t been this wet since Cap’s beard reveal.”

Eyes dark, when he feels how Logan moves inside you. Forgetting himself, as he chases the pleasure that threatens to peak inside him.

“Bet you love knowing you’ve been in all of our girl’s holes. Don’t you, handsome?” Wade grins. Eyes still watchful - catching the clench of a jaw, as his lips return to yours.

The kiss is sweeter this time, even as he begins to drive into you. Each of your breaths coming in a whining gasp, pleasure once again winding inside you.

His mouth running away from him, determined to send you both over, ”Should let me into some of yours. You know I’d treat you right.”

“Shut the fuck up. C-Can’t come with you running your mouth.” It’s panted out - half-hearted at best, and Wade’s eyes gleam.

“Fucking liar.” He crows, “Bet you jerk it all the time to the thought of us screaming your name.”

Voice pitches up then, in a mimicry of yours, “Oh, Logan. Fuck me right there with your monster dick-”

Logan strings tight beneath you with a snarl, as he tries to bury himself in your ass. The hand at your neck dipping to grasp at your hip, as the practiced rhythm turns sloppy.

Wade shifts - his weight leaned into your hips. Pinning you both down as he fucks into you, stroke after stroke.  

Logan’s touch is sloppy against your clit - but with the way your boyfriend’s cock pounds against that spot inside you, it’s enough.

You don’t even realize you’re whimpering. The way their names string together, the “please, please, please-” that catches in your throat.  

“You gonna come too, baby?” He coos - thrilled, “You’re both so fucking easy, aren’t you?”

Logan moans in your ear when you squeeze around him, fingers pressing harder. A little faster, and with the next plunge of Wade’s cock - you shatter. 

It’s all white noise, the faded star stickers on the ceiling becoming swirling the sky above as you’re pulled under. 

Helpless, with the way you’re pinned between them. Coming again with the tight swirls against your clit, with them fully sheathed inside you. 

The tight pulse of your orgasm around his sends Logan over. 

Even with Wade’s weight his hips still lift as he bows off the bed. A wounded groan, as he comes with you clenching down around him. Grinding himself into your hole as his cock throbs, emptying himself into you. 

There’s a sing-songed and muted “money shot” that has you groaning. Half-exasperation, half-mindless pleasure, as Logan’s hands roam. Holding you against him, ragged breath against your neck as you milk him empty.

Keeping you stuffed full, hilting his cock deeper when you squirm. Leaving Wade to catch up.

Shameless in the way he watches now, as molten pleasure thrums in your veins. Leaning back to see how you take them both. Picturing how you’ll look after, thoroughly-fucked holes that will drip with them until morning. 

Doesn’t notice when his breath turns short, but you do. 

“Wanna feel you come, baby.” You coo, your smile soft and pleasure-drunk. 

Hands tracing over his, overlapping and squeezing. The shallow lift of your hips to meet his thrusts, purposely squeezing him when he inches out - trying to keep him in.

“Make a fucking mess, Red.” Logan growls - joining you, “Let me feel you come inside her.”

“Jesus Titty-Fucking Christ,” The rough laugh turns into a groan, “Think I’m going to blow two loads at once-”

Hands overlapping, grasping on, holding you, as his hips pump faster. Head tipping - fitting between yours and Logans - as his back bows. 

Coming inside you with a muttered out “oh fuck. fuck yes-”, cock jerking with each needy rut of his hips. The sound turns into a whine when teeth sink his neck, hard enough to bruise. 

Yours on the other side, your soft moan in his ear as you feel the way he throbs as he spills into you again, and again. 

Intense, in a way you’ve never felt before. A connection that loops through you - from the press of your mouths, down to where you fit together. 

It’s fortunate that Logan’s hands still fit at your hips, with how fucked-out and boneless you feel. Trading one cock for another was one thing, but this - being claimed by both of them, the phantom ache as Logan withdraws- it’s something else entirely. 

Your head dropping back to rest against his shoulder, eyes heavy-lidded as you wait for your pulse to stop galloping. Logan’s nose ghosting against your temple, an arm still thrown around your hips. 

A hiss, when Wade slips from you. You can feel the mess they’ve made, sticky against your thighs. How they drip from your fucked-out holes, when you clench around nothing. 

It must do something to him, the way Wade moans when he sits back. Fingers raising - mimicking a camera, complete with the click of his tongue as the shutter. 

“If that doesn’t win me an academy award,” He hums thoughtfully.

“Then I don’t know what the fuck will.”

Time slows down, after. The low hum of artificial rain from a device on your dresser, layering with the muted city outside. Doesn’t know if it’s minutes or hours since he last moved, and he really can’t bring himself to care.

As long as it’s still dark, then he knows they’ve still got time. 

“So are you going to bake us a sex cake?” Wade yawns, “You know, for completely rocking your shit.”

“A what?” You stir against him - an eye cracking open. 

Logan grunts, his face buried in your shoulder. A hand splayed across your belly, a tug as he pulls you closer.

“Oh my god,” Wade chuckles to himself, “There I go, mixing up timelines again. I infinitely prefer this one, but the way.”

Logan lets the two of you bicker, his eyes slipping shut again. 

Your apartment is quieter than Wade’s. The bed comparable to the one they shared last time. Can’t remember the last time he’s felt a warmth like this. 

Soft, where your back tucks against his chest. His hand shifts to your hip, curving against soft flesh. Wade’s hand rests close enough to touch, fingers just brushing. Facing you, thighs twined together as he sandwiches you between them.

The shower had been nicer, as well. Snug, when you had pulled them in with you. Taking turns under the warm spray. He had commented on it - a way to drag out the scratch of fingers through his hair. The swirl of soap against his skin, and he had been too blissed out to bother with the facade when a second set of hands grabbed his ass. 

Staying just a little longer, as their hands found their way between your thighs. Wade thumbing at your clit as his own fingers fucked the cum deeper into your cunt. Twin marks sucked into your neck, as your legs threatened to give out - still shaky from before.

You stir against him. Words heavy with sleep.

“Wade didn’t say it earlier.” You yawn - shuffling, so you can help over to face him. 

Logan’s brow rises, as you clarify.

“There’s a caveat to our earlier question.”

“Good word choice.” Wade hums, “11 points, and I bet you were a real pleasure to have in class.”

A low chuckle, when your hips press back against his in warning - as your eyes flip up to Logan’s. 

“It’s a two-for-one deal,” The corner of your lips tug up, “It’s both of us, or nothing.”

“All for one, and one for all,” Wade’s chin hooks over your shoulder, ignoring how you elbow him, “And can you really afford not to take that?”

Supposes it’s cute, that you think you have to tell him this. That his eyes haven’t equally wandered, even if it’s only half-admitted. Too caught on wondering if the only something good he had will change, if he truly allows himself to want something. 

That it’s not only the feeling of your mouths on his cock that he revisits, though he does think of that often.

There’s other moments as well. Squeezing hands and smiles and the way you both look at him. The toothbrush that you had ready tonight, just incase he forgot his. The handle blue, when he slipped it in the cup - tucked next to red and purple.

Your words still spark brightly in his chest, settling low behind his ribs. It quells an uneasy twist that’s been lingering there for the past few weeks. 

Something unsteady, finally finding purchase. 

“Don’t know why you’re clarifying though, gorgeous.” His cheek rubs against yours like a cat. Those brown eyes meet his as well, and it’s hard to bite back the low inhale of breath.

“Considering he tongue-fucked the shit out of me earlier, I think he’s good.”

He huffs in reply, but he can’t bite back the curve of his lips. Not anymore - and he finds that he doesn’t want to.

“Yeah.” Logan agrees. That something turning soft inside him, the smile pulling just a little wider. 

“I’m good.”

thanks so much for reading!! 💖 there's a couple more moments I'd love to explore with them in the future! (but in case I'm not able to, I wanted to end it on this sweet note between them all. )

[mischievousmoony]

Omg I love ur James fics. You think you could do one where reader finally feels comfortable getting drunk while going out with their group because she knows James is there to take care of her. Ur drunk reader x James interactions are too cute. I feel like I always have a hard time letting go cause I’m afraid I’ll need to take care of my other friends haha. Love your work!

thank u love! i have fun writing them, i just know james would be so caring! ps thank you for being patient ik this request came in a while ago

𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍

⟢ james potter x fem!reader ⊹ 1.0k ⟢ warnings/tags: intoxication (i think that’s it but lmk if i missed any pls)

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"But what if Sirius tries to get a new tattoo again?" you ask, twisting back and forth with a steady squeak, squeak, squeak of your barstool.

James clasps his hand on your shoulder, turning you one last time to face him. "Remus is watching him."

"What if Marlene tries to go on another one of her adventures?"

Marlene has a knack for getting herself into precarious situations when she gets drunk, which she likes to call her “little adventures.” Usually, this means going home with a stranger, whether it’s for a hookup or to steal their lightbulbs because they looked at her wrong.

"Lily’s got her.”

"What if I do something stupid?" you ask, now swinging your legs. The nerves eating away at you just won’t let you sit still.

James puts his other hand on your knee, soothing you with a gentle squeeze. "I'm watching you," he says. After thinking it over for a moment, he adds, “And I don't think you'll do anything stupid. Even if you do, I'll do something more stupid so that nobody notices."

This earns him a giggle from you, and he’s happy to see you smiling. He picks up your glass, which is now covered in beads of water, plenty of time having passed for condensation to run its course. He dries what he can with a napkin because he knows you hate when the droplets land in your lap.

You once asked him why it happened, even though you knew the answer. He simply told you it was science.

“Science is stupid,” you had said, eyes fixating on several small spots of water soaking into your jeans.

Now, James wraps your glasses with napkins. He holds out your drink, a black napkin enveloped around it, as he asks, “You want to do this, right?”

You peek into the glass and watch the dwindling ice cubes swirl around in a vodka cran; a drink that James had called “beginner friendly.”

“Yeah,” you answer shyly.

James frowns. “It’s okay if you’ve changed your mind.”

You chew your bottom lip, thinking it over. A part of you wants to forget it, but another part of you knows you’d be disappointed in yourself for chickening out again.

You wrap your hand around the glass, cringing at the squish of the soggy napkin beneath your fingertips. You don’t know what’s worse: this feeling or the water dripping all over you. But James’ attempts to help make you feel warm inside, so you don’t complain.

“No, I still want to do this.”

“Then I’m here for you. Promise.” James gives your knee another squeeze.

You cast a look toward your friends. For years, you've nominated yourself as the designated driver. Or you've claimed to have early morning obligations. You've always felt better knowing someone sober was around to deliver plenty of water and carb-rich snacks to your incapacitated friends.

That was your excuse, anyway. Not that it isn't one of your concerns, but truthfully, something about drinking makes you feel uneasy. You always knew your friends were safe because you've been there, ready to hold back anyone's hair or stray them away from bad decisions. If you drank too, how could you be sure your friends would have someone to depend on? How could you be sure you would have someone to depend on?

Then, you started dating James, and you found a level of trust you never knew was possible. You know you can depend on him for anything.

When you admitted to him why you never drink when you go out, he swore up and down that he would be there for you.

Remembering his promise summons a wave of courage. You shoot James a nervous smile, and take your first sip, scrunching your nose as it burns your tongue.

"This is kind of gross."

James barks a laugh, "We can try to find something you'd like better next round. That is, if you decide to have another."

Feeling brave, you do have another. That's when you discovered something called the Cosmic Lemon Fizz; a drink that sparkles with edible glitter and manages to be blue, green, and yellow all at once. You laughed when you saw it, not knowing how in for it you were.

"Jamie!" you exclaim after taking a sip of your third Cosmic Lemon Fizz. "This tastes like happy feels!" you gasp as if the thought had just occurred to you, despite this being the fourth time you tell him.

"I bet it does!" James cheers. His eyes wrinkle in the corners as he beams at you.

"You should try one!" you declare, and immediately try to flag over the bartender.

James smoothly takes your hand, stopping you as he says, "No can do. Made a promise to a pretty girl that I wouldn't have a drop tonight."

You whip your head around. "Who!?" you ask, eyes wide.

"Who do you think, pretty girl," he says, poking you in the side.

Giggles escape you and you swat his hand away. He doesn't go far, lifting his arm to brush some stray hairs out of your face. His hand lingers on the side of your face, soothing the pad of his thumb against your cheek.

You lean into his touch, gazing up at him with an affectionate glaze in your eyes; a look that gives him butterflies.

"Wowww," you say dreamily. "You're handsome."

James feels his heart flip in his chest. "Thank you, love," he says, a soft smile playing at his lips.

"Hey," Sirius says, appearing out of nowhere as he lazily throws an arm over your shoulders, "How's it going over here?"

While you're distracted with Sirius, James waves over the bartender and replaces your drink with water. The next time you reach for your glass, you hesitate.

"Where's my cosmo magic fizzy thingy?" you ask, an eyebrow raised as you glance at James.

"You must've finished it," he shrugs, acting clueless.

"That's like the oldest trick in the book. You replaced it with water and now you're trying to be sneaky!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," James feigns innocence.

You giggle, bringing the straw to your lips. "I knew you'd take care of me. I love you," you say, happily sipping your water.

James feels another eye-wrinkling smile break out on his face. "I love you too, pretty girl."

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[heart-eyed-love]

Jocks give Eddie a hard time. Fem!Reader. Friends-to-Lovers. Contains - Cursing, Slight Bulling, Shirtless Eddie

That Friday night after a successful night of a Dungeons and Dragons with the rest of Hellfire, you all had decided on hitting up the diner before you all reluctantly returned home.

Unfortunately, for your small group of weirdo, the basketball team had the same idea as you guys. All the jocks flowing around the small diner with their cheerleader girlfriends at their side was not making this fun, relaxing night.

And they had decided to test your patience.

You and Eddie had headed up to the counter in hopes of just getting your friends and yourselves some drinks, and you went to help him carry the drinks back.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen any of those dipshits drink water.” Eddie tease with a grin as you both collect the drinks and began to head back to your table.

“They’re teenage boys, what do you expect?” You giggle teasingly, but rather quickly your giggling is cut off by a jock trying to pass by, purposefully knocking the bottom of the drinks in Eddie's hand. Sending the soda all of the front of his shirt and dripping from his chin.

Eddie kind of just freezes, not entirely sure what happened or who did it. He just knows he fucking soaked now.

And as the jock asshole is opening his mouth, he attempts to let out a condescending “oops” but you throw your own drink in his face, muffling his attempt of speaking. He coughs on the drink that went down his throat, and tosses the other drink onto his shirt.

You walk past Eddie, who’s now even more frozen and jock who’s now drenched in an assortment of drinks, and still coughing on the drink, and head back to the table.

The boys are silently staring at you and then back to the boys who are both soaked, you set the empty cups down on the table and grab your hoodie, muttering a, “C’mon,” to the boys as you leave the table again. Walking back towards Eddie you're able to see the rest of the basketball team and their girlfriends are also silently watching the scene that unfolded in front of them.

You roll your eyes, and grab Eddie’s wrist, dragging him outside with the rest of your friends, hoping to knock him from his frozen state.

You all linger around his van, and Grant walks up to Eddie handing him some napkins he grabbed from the table, and Eddie wipes the soda that’s fortunately drying on his face.

Then Jeff speaks up, “Hey, why don’t I take the other guys home…” He offers pointing over his shoulder towards his own car, “You guys can just head home and get cleaned up….” He smiles sweetly, and it’s now you look down at your own shirt and see the dark spatters where the drink had slightly got you too.

“Yeah, okay. Thanks, man…” Eddie says sort of out of it, makes you feel even better about throwing those drinks back in that asshole's face.

You both watch as the three boys trail off to Jeff’s car and you linger by Eddie’s side.

“You okay?” You ask softly as you look back over to him, surprised to see him already looking at you.

Yeah. Yeah, I'm good…” He smiles slightly.

“Here, let’s get in…” You say knocking your knuckle against the back door of his van, and Eddie’s nodding as he goes to unlock it. He opens the door for you and you hop inside and wait for him to do the same. You crawl your way to your backpack that’s in the front seat, the seat that you always get, even if it means the boys are always stuffed in the back. You grab your water bottle from your bag and retrieve the napkins that Grant gave to Eddie.

“Take your shirt off.” You say, and it has Eddie’s eyes widening at how nonchalantly you said it.

“What…?” He asks, slightly confused.

“Take your shirt off, it’s drenched, Eddie. And your chest is probably sticky as hell…” You say as you pour some of the water on the napkins. You don’t have to ask him twice, and he’s tugging the gross shirt off.

You move closer with your wet napkin in hand as you bring it up to his chest and attempt to wipe the soda residue from his chest.

“Jeez, take a guy out to dinner first…” He’s smirking.

“Oh, I mean… I totally would, but last time I recall trying to get dinner with you some asshole poured a bunch of soda all over you. Remember that?” You tease and it only has him smiling more.

“Yeah… I think I recall something like that happening, but the part that sticks with me the most was the really hot girl that poured soda back on that asshole in my defense…”

“Oh yeah…?” You ask as continue wiping his chest off with a smirk, but not looking in his eyes.

“Yeah…” And he grabs your wrist to stop your movements, “You know, I could do this on my own…” He says as he attempts to grab the napkin from you, but you pull your hand back immediately.

“Well, where’s the fun in that?” You give him one more wipe for precaution, and then grab your hoodie and throw it to him. “For your modesty.” You smirk, crawling back to the front seat and plopping down in the passenger seat and looking back at him, “You coming?”

And he hastily pulls your hoodie on and tries to make his way back to the front, and you’re giggling as you watch him, “Would you actually take me out to dinner?” He asks with a grin, and it had you playfully rolling your eyes.

You smirk as you pat his cheek, “Yeah, I think we can work something out…”

[dollarbils]

my stalker | b.e.

billie eilish x fem!reader

context. your stalker isn’t too happy about the police report you’d just filed.

warnings. stalker billie, harsh words, physical struggle

the drive back from the police station was nerve racking. every turn you took you felt like someone was watching you. like she was watching you. your paranoia had overtaken your life as you watched every step you took, constantly checking your surroundings and double locking the door. you were scared, and she loved it.

the buzz of your phone interrupted your hasty movements to get out of your car. you waited until you had gotten inside, double locking the door of course, before answering.

“hello?” you didn’t recognise the number but you’d assumed it was the guy you met last night at a party. you’d left him your number since he was hitting on you.

“well that wasn’t very nice of you, was it?” her voice was deep, somewhat angry. and it took everything in you not to scream and panic.

“stay the fuck away from me you psycho!” you yelled through the phone, not hanging up though, wanting to hear her response.

“it’s in your best interest to be kinder to me, baby. i’m not here to hurt you.” here. here. here?

“i’m going to call the police if i see you in my garden again.” you peeked out of the window, scanning the bushes.

“oh please, give me more credit.” this time, the voice didn’t come from your phone, it came from behind you and you spun around in a quick movement to dodge her arm that was reaching for you. however, you weren’t quick enough, as her other arm pulled you back towards her. she pushed you against the wall, her hands pinning you in place and her strength defeating you.

“what on earth do you want from me?” you held her eye contact, masking your ever growing fear. she seemed surprised. you couldn’t make out her features completely due to the darkness. her eyes however, were captivating all the same.

“i want you to stop reporting me to the police, it’s annoying.” she pressed into you, pinning your face in place with her hypnotising eyes.

“maybe don’t stalk me.” you suggested and she rolled her eyes.

“you’re scared of me. i can tell.”

“well what did you expect exactly? a hug and a kiss?” it seemed to be that pissing her off more was the strategy you were going with.

“don’t be afraid of me. i’m what you need.” she whispered on your cheek. “i can hear your heart beating. calm down baby.” you squirmed in her arms, trying to fight her grip but she only pushed you back harder. however soft her words were, her actions never matched. her face was still impossibly close to yours as she waited for a response.

“nothing to say?” she commented, teasing you for your sudden silence.

“fuck you.” you moved quickly, catching her by surprise and getting past her grip to reach for your phone. she was quicker however, grabbing it and shoving it in her back pocket.

“what the fuck.. stalker.” you contemplated on what you should call her. she simply chuckled at what you came up with.

“it’s billie.” she clarified her name.

“i don’t care, give me my phone.” she kept her distance, no longer making a move to reach for you.

“come and get it.” she challenged. “don’t be scared.” she added when you made no move to get your phone back.

“just tell me what you want and give me my phone back.” you moved away from her slowly but she just followed, keeping the exact same distance between you no matter how far back you traveled.

“i think you know what i want. and im not about to give you your phone back so that you can wait for your boy toy to text you.” her grin revealed the glistening metal on her teeth, even in the dark.

“how..?” you were at loss for words. a sick feeling rising to your stomach. no matter where you went she’d always know, she’d always be there too.

“hm?” she mocked you, waiting for you to continue.

“just leave me alone.” you pleaded her but she just chuckled.

“but you’re so fun to play with.” her smile was bright but her eyes were dark. she moved closer to you as you backed away but like always, she was much quicker.

“you’re sick.” you shook your head as her hands came up to your face. you didn’t bother stopping the action.

“i feel quite good.” her lips came down to yours, kissing the side of them, but missing them by a millimetre.

“what are you doing?” her hands caressed your neck as she moved her face to look at you.

“i know we’re meant to be.” her words were soft, contrasting most of what had transpired. you felt her hand on your ass for a second longer than it should’ve been. but when she closed the door behind her and you reached inside of your pocket, you found your phone, as if it had been untouched.

as she walked away from your house calmly, a smile was plastered on her face. she knew you’d be thinking about her for the rest of the week. and that’s all she wanted. for now.

[gloomwitchwrites]

Hello, hope you're a having a good day

Could you write something about 141 x reader where the sparring session turns a little too not your usual sparring (if you know what I mean). The reader and them being all sweaty and shit and like the sexual tension that's been there for a while. This idea has been plaguing my mind since forever. Thank youuuu

Haha! Yes! Omg, I love it. Okay, for this, I didn't go full smut. When someone mentions sexual tension, I tend to hyperfocus on that and want to bathe in it. Give me naughty thoughts and flirting-maybe even some actual physical contact that borders on dangerous territory. Give me the yearning! I want to giggle and kick my feet and think about what might happen later.

So, I indulged in that regard! I had lots of fun with this. Thank you so much for sending it in!!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x TF141!Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, knife play, grinding, rough kissing, caught in the act, training, naughty thoughts, mutual yearning

Word Count: 2.4k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John "Soap" MacTavish

“Come on. Come at me.”

Soap rolls his shoulders and then brings his fists up in a fighting stance. He makes a “go on” gestured with his hands.

Every muscle in your body is sore. Tired doesn’t even begin to describe how you’re feeling. But you want to best Soap. He’s been on your ass for weeks now—insisting that the two of you should spar together. It’s not the sparring that makes you warm and tingly but the way he suggests it.

Always leaning in. Standing far too close. Bumping your shoulder with his.

Soap waits, but you’re not sure how to proceed. So far, you’ve been completely unsuccessful. As if knowing all your moves, Soap has dodged each blow and kick, effortlessly taking you down to the mat every time you thinking you’ve ensnared him.

Stealth is more your thing. Creeping around in the shadows. Taking out opponents from afar. A sniper scope is your friend. Hand-to-hand isn’t.

You lunge for him and Soap steps back. Fist missing him, you sidestep and go for a jab in the stomach. Soap slaps your hand away, and you want to yell in frustration.

“Sloppy today,” chides Soap, grinning like this amuses him.

It probably does. He’s one for a good laugh.

This time you feign, and Soap takes it, moving in. You’re ready for him, turning out of his swing to duck beneath and then aim for the face. Soap rises to block, and opens a clear line to his groin.

Fucking beautiful.

Lifting your foot, you don’t tap him hard, just enough for his cheeks to go pink. Soap grunts, and you chuckle.

“Shouldn’t have left yourself—”

With an oof, your back smacks against the tumble mat beneath you. Soaps snags your wrists and pins them above your head. You go to kick out at him, but Soap’s knees are between your legs. He shoves them wider.

You’re completely trapped beneath him.

And in a completely inappropriate position.

From where you’re pinned, you notice the small beads of sweat on his brow and how a few pieces of hair stick to his skin. Though his chest is covered by a shirt, it’s snug, with every muscle on display. Those powerful thighs of his press against yours in such a way that you’re imagining nothing between your bodies.

Would he feel this powerful over you if the two of you were elsewhere? Perhaps, somewhere more private. Somewhere without a tumble mat. Somewhere with a bed.

“Can’t harm the goods, love,” says Soap, his voice husky. You’re not sure if it’s from the close contact or from the tap you gave his crotch.

“Then don’t leave them vulnerable,” you reply, almost not recognizing the sound of your own voice. It too is husky as if dipped in desire.

The middle of Soap’s brow scrunches slightly. His gaze travels downward to linger on your lips and then further still until you sense him admiring more than he is observing.

“Soap—”

His gaze snaps upward. “Johnny,” he corrects. “Think we’re on closer terms.”

“Are we?” you ask, as his hips start to relax.

The press of him against you is apparent, and the hardness there is poking at you. Insistent. And you don’t want to ignore it.

Instead, you press upward, grinding against him.

Soap—no—Johnny, makes a sound in his throat.

One moment you’re under him and then you’re in his lap, the two of you sitting up, staring into each other’s eyes. Your heart hammers in your chest, and your hands fists the front of his shirt.

“You—”

“Are we interrupting something?”

You and Johnny turn just as Ghost and Gaz enter the gym. Gaz has a towel draped over his shoulder. The water bottle he holds it half-way towards his mouth before he freezes, gaze locked on you and Johnny.

Ghost cocks his head, arms crossed over his chest.

You’re speechless. Lost. Your mind hasn’t caught up.

But Johnny’s has.

With a twist, Johnny rolls and then lightly tosses you off him as if the two of you were simply practicing and not staring into each other’s eyes.

“You want a go, Lt?” asks Johnny.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“You up for another round?” asks Kyle.

The man is grinning like he could do this all day. You’re sore everywhere—ready to collapse from exhaustion. Hand-to-hand combat is not your thing which is why you’re here in the training room with Kyle.

Yes, you need practice, but you’ve also had your eye on him, admiring him when you think no one is looking. It’s an excuse for some alone time.

“I’d rather eat glass,” you mutter, snatching up your water bottle and drinking the last of it.

“Hate me that much?” he teases.

“So much so that I wanted to spend the afternoon beating your ass.”

Kyle bursts out laughing. He snatches the water bottle out of your hand and aims it at you, squeezing. There’s nothing in it. A few measly drops hit your face and then you lunge for him. Kyle jumps back and extends his arms outward.

“One more round.” He winks. “Come on, love.”

He’s being cheeky, and your blood is pumping.

Kyle tosses your water bottle to the side as you stride forward. His arms go up, and then the two of you are nothing but flying fists and feet. He’s faster, blocking every blow you send his way.

Sweat accumulates on your brow and on the back of your neck, dripping down your spine. You lick your lips, taste the salt from the sweat.

You duck. Swing. Kyle snatches your wrist and twists, pinning your arm behind you. With a sharp jab of your elbow, you nail Kyle in the stomach, freeing yourself.

As you spin to lash out, Kyle is right there, in your space, blocking all movement. You try to step back, to allow space in your next strike, but Kyle rushes in. The two of you are twisted up. Falling. Slamming into the mat on the floor.

You shove and Kyle resists, his strength outmatching yours. With cheek pressed into the mat, you have nowhere to go. You’re completely on your stomach, and all of Kyle’s weight is on you. He breathes heavily, chest heaving. You feel his breath against your skin, and the contact only sends your skin into a shiver.

Your mind drifts, lingering in places it shouldn’t. Worse—Kyle is aroused. His hardness pokes at your ass. But whether he notices or not is unclear.

“You’re improving,” he says.

“I have a good teacher.”

Kyle makes a noise that sounds like agreement. Every muscle is tense, and even Kyle’s hold on you seems laced with something harsh. But then it eases. Softens. His grip loosens enough that you roll onto your side, glancing up at him.

He is so goddamn close. Just a gentle tilt of the head and your lips would meet his. It wouldn’t be that hard. He’s right there.

Kyle blinks, and then his gaze trails downward, lingering on your lips.

“We,” he begins. “We shouldn’t.”

“Why?”

His thumb traces along the side of your throat, and your eyelids flutter with contentment. A little moan escapes you, and you hear Kyle’s sharp inhale.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Fuck it.”

His thumb becomes his whole hand. Holding you in place, Kyle goes all in, claiming your lips with his. It is dominating, and you happily give in to him.

John Price

Your back hits the tumble mat with a sharp slap. The exposed portions of your shoulders and back sting from the contact.

"Again."

Groaning, you push up to a seated position. "We've been at this for hours."

"And you need practice," counters Price.

He's hatless. And shirtless. Only in cargo pants and boots, Captain Price's bare skin glistens with sweat. You won't pretend that the sight of him like this doesn't intrigue you. For months now you've been observing Captain Price in more than just a professional manner. It's hard not to, and the sweat-drenched man before you isn't helping things.

Captain Price runs his fingers through his hair, taking a step back. The casualness to the movement causes your stomach to twist with desire. Your body betrays you, and you have no idea if these feelings are entirely one-sided. Sometimes you think you might gleam a notion of his thoughts, but it always manages to slip through your grasp.

Price offers his hand, and an idea forms.

You extend yours, but don't close the distance. Price is the one that leans forward to do so. It's the perfect opportunity. When your fingers close around his, you tug back, throwing him off balance.

Price tips forward, and you turn to the side as he crashes down to the mat. In one fluid movement, you roll Price onto his back and straddle his stomach.

"Never let your guard down. That's what you always say."

Price's eyes widen slightly before softening. The corner of his mouth twitches into a hint of amusement. It immediately sends heat flaring through you.

"I do," he replies, and it's nearly a coo.

That smirk of his widens into an actual smile, and then it's you on your back and Price straddling. You strike out with an elbow but Price catches your swing, trapping your arms above your head. He bends forward a bit, and it is then that you feel the stiffness against your stomach.

Price makes no move to hide it, and you don’t dare glance downward.

"You need to do better-"

"Captain."

Price immediately recoils, sitting up and releasing your arms. You twist to look behind you, only to find Ghost and Soap standing nearby. Ghost is ever the silent observer, but Soap's head is slightly tilted to the side, the middle of his brow pinched like he's not sure what's happening.

"Meeting starts in five,” says Soap. “Came to find you."

Price coughs and then he's off you, kneeling and offering you a hand again. You don't try to knock him down.

"Just going over some pointers,” replies Price.

"Pointers?" deadpans Ghost and you shoot him a look. He shrugs at you, gaze lingering before moving to his captain.

"Give me ten minutes. Shower. Then I'll be there."

Captain Price gives you a quick glance before walking off with Soap. Ghost crosses his arms over his chest and just stares.

“What?" you snap

"Pointers," he repeats.

"Oh, fuck off, Simon."

He chuckles and turns to follow the two out of the training room.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

"Your posture is terrible."

"That's very helpful, Lieutenant,” you deadpan.

"Are you sassing me?"

"No."

Simon shakes his head and sighs. “Can’t throw a knife accurately if you’re hunched like a goblin.”

“Goblin,” you mutter under your breath. “Asshole.”

“What was that?”

You clear your throat. “Seems easy, Lieutenant. You just throw the pointy end at the enemy.”

Simon grunts and then grabs your raised arm. "You won't hit anything standing like that."

You resist his pull but you're outmatch when it comes to strength. With one hand on your arm and one on your waist, Simon shifts you into position.

"Like this," he instructs, bringing your arm back. "Firm grip. Feet pointed forward." Simon releases your arm but his hand on your waist remains. "Throw. At the target."

You let the knife fly. It strikes just right of the bullseye.

"Again,” nods Simon.

"Really?"

Simon slowly drops his hand from your waist, the tips of fingers lingering a second longer than necessary.

Removing a knife from his boot, Simon flips it end over end. "We could hone your skills a different way."

"What way?"

“Grab your knife and find out.”

Stalking toward the bullseyes, you yank out the knife, joining Simon in the sparring ring. He bends at the knee, crouching into a fight stance. You mimic the movement.

Simon lunges first and you sidestep. But he's quick for such a large man. He moves around and behind you so fast he's almost a blur.

Grabbing your wrist, Simon lightly twists and pins you against his front, the knife tip pointed at your throat.

"Again,” he growls.

Simon lightly shoves you away. You spin. Striking out. He slaps your arm down and raises his own, the knife tip pointed at your throat for a second time.

"Again."

Showing your teeth, you charge at him, barreling into him at the middle. Simon staggers but doesn't faulter. He attempts to toss you off him, but you remain firm, grabbing hold.

This unloads him, his weight toppling with you. The two of you go down. Simon rolls you onto your back, his body pressed to yours, knife at your throat again.

"Better,” he says. “Still needs improvement."

You go to shove him off, but Simon doesn't budge. He remains where he is, and every point of contact is like an electrical spark. Even his face is close, balaclava nearly scratching against your skin. There is not part of him you’re not touching.

Awareness settles in.

Simon is all hardness over you.

"Have any tips you can give me?" you reply.

His gaze slowly lowers to your lips. His hips shift slightly, something stiff poking against your inner thigh.

“I have one,” he murmurs.

Bet I can guess.

“How do you want it?” he continues.

"You're the expert," you reply softly, hooking your leg over the back of his.

It's an invitation, one you aren't sure he'll take.

There’s a brief pause, and then Simon hums in agreement. It’s a pleased sound, one that instantly makes you shiver. Without taking the knife from your throat, he closes the distance, lips pressing against yours through the balaclava.

Heat erupts, the knife in your hand forgotten on the floor as you grab at him, fingers digging in.

It's only a tease. You want the real thing.

"What's the tip?" you ask once he breaks the connection.

Simon answers by grinding his hips against yours.

That one. Got it.

“We should—”

A door slams from somewhere down the hall. Simon’s head snaps up. The knife disappears, and then Simon is pushing himself away, kneeling beside you. His head is turned toward the main doors, but no one enters.

“It’s late,” you say. No one should be coming this way.

He turns back to you. “Your knife skills are shit.”

You groan. “I know. Goblin hunch. Got it.”

Simon snorts, and offers his hand. You take it, and he pulls you into a seated position. “Just a few more rounds,” he says, and then with a husky twinge to his tone, “and then I’ll go make sure the locker room is clear.”

taglist:

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[darnell-la]

can we get some nsfw of logan heavily infantilizing reader? i know he's a mean mean man and i want him to make us cry 🥺 just wanna be doted on but also fucked like a beast

note: Logan is a very nasty individual in this story. He’s degrading, calls the reader out of her name many times, fucks rough, is manipulative, possessive, and more…

having Logan Howlett claim you are one of the best-given things that could happen.

———

How do you guys feel about a x men story with reader? Logan being rude Logan at first, then slowly shows small affection towards the reader. Jealousy and things of that sort. They soon hit it off, and after Logan starts acting rude again, because he’s scared of the love he grew for her. It’ll be a long story, but something to read at night. ALL ON WATTPAD! Comment below, please!

———

“You’re so fuckin’ childish, y/n, do you know that!? So fuckin’ childish!” Logan shouted at the girl as he placed her into his passenger seat. The man slammed the door in her face before walking around to the car.

Y/m scoffed as she crossed her arms, knowing she was wrong for what she’d done tonight, but at least she had fun.

Logan treats y/n like she has no idea what the world is like. Wade speaks to him, telling him he should take it easy because is his friend. Not Logan’s.

“Well, if I’m gonna stay in an apartment with two kids, I expect them to have manners and respect. If not, then I’m out of here,” Logan threatened a few months ago when he first got here.

Y/n had come home drunk out of her mind at three in the morning after Logan and Wade had been worried all night.

Her phone had died. She explained that to them, and Wade understood, but when she came through that door smiling, laughing, and giggling with the friend who dropped her off, it triggered Logan.

“I know pay the bills, and the apartment is his, but I’ll kick you the fuck out, kid,” Logan threatened as he got into the car and started it up, ready to get home and rest without stressing about y/n.

“I’m a grown woman, Logan. If I wanna go out and get drunk with my friends, I can!” Y/n turned towards the man just to yell before turning back towards the door, looking out of the window.

“What kinda fun is that, y/n? You’re a college student, you’ve got classes in the afternoon, you need to study, but instead, you’re out almost every weekend, pissy drunk and begging for a man to touch you,”

“What!? I don’t even go out with men! I reject them all,” y/n said, confused about why he even cared about her getting with anyone.

“Sure you don’t. Every time I pick you up or you walk through that door, you’re dressed sluttier. Every fucking time!” Logan yelled, hands groping the wheel as he drove through the city to head home.

“At this point, you’re just stressing yourself out. Let me live my life like I let you, okay? Fuck!” Y/n complained.

“So slutting around is living life now? God, you kids are fucking dumb,” Logan shook his head. “I don’t slut around!” Y/n basically screamed at the man.

“Lower your fucking tone when you talk to me, young lady!” Logan looked her way. The anger in his voice made her back up, trying to keep a straight face, but it was hard.

“Always fuckin’ yellin'. Can you ever shut the fuck up for once? Just do better in life and shut the fuck up — Grow up! Because you’re a-fucking-nnoying,” the man got out.

Y/n looked out of the window in silence, holding back her tears as the man continued.

“Be a fuckin’ lady, and respect yourself for once. For once!” He hit the wheel, making the girl jump. “Respect me!” The man hit the wheel again, but harder.

Y/n wiped a tear from her cheek quickly so he wouldn’t notice, but he did. Once he did, the man laughed to himself. “Unbelievable,” the man shook his head, disappointed in her.

“You can yell at me, but when I start yellin’ and tellin’ you what you look like, you start carrying. Fucking pathetic. Seriously!”

Logan didn’t mean to hurt the girl's feelings. He was just angry. He hated seeing her out and doing things he didn’t want her to do. Why can’t she just listen to him? Why does she need other people to make her happy when she has Wade and him at home.

The rest of the car ride was silent. Y/n wouldn’t sniff here and there, but low so she wouldn’t start Logan up again. She was embarrassed and disappointed in herself.

Right as Logan parked the car, y/n pulled on the handle to get out, but he had locked the door before she could.

“Looks y/n-“ Logan went to say, but y/n cut him off. “Let me out,” y/n said with a stern voice. “Y/n, just hear me out-“ he tried to say again. “Let me out!” She yelled, not even looking at the man.

“Hey!” Logan reached for her arm and grabbed it tightly. Y/n tried yanking herself away, but he was stronger. “Let me go!” Y/n yelled, only angering the man further. He had become obvious to the strength he had.

“Ow, Logan!” Y/n shouted at the man, but all he did was grip harder. “Stay still, y/n!” Logan demanded. “You're hurting me!” She finally said as tears streamed from her eyes.

The way she looked at the man in pain, not just from his grip, but more so from his words. Looking into his eyes, he realized he had gone too far.

“Y/n,” Logan said low as she fought the man, slapping his hand, but he wouldn’t let go. He only loosened his grip. “Let me go!” She could barely yell, only cry.

Logan shifted his body and lifted his other hand to cup her cheek. When he did, she tried shaking her head to get him off, but it wouldn’t leave.

“Please!” She cried, but Logan didn’t let her leave. All he did was let her arm go, only to push her seat back and hover over her quickly, the other hand still on her cheek.

“Baby, don’t cry,” Logan said, but she couldn’t stop. She sobbed as she weakly slapped Logan’s body, telling him to leave her alone, but that was the last thing he was going to do.

“Baby, look at him — It’s okay, just look at me,” Logan said as he placed the other hand on her other cheek, forcing her to look at him.

“I’m sorry, y/n, okay? I’m sorry,” Logan spoke. That was when y/n cried harder with no words. “Aw, baby,” Logan said, trying to wipe her tears away, but they kept rolling.

“All I wanted was for you to be safe, baby. That it. It’s dangerous out here. You can’t just be goin’ out every night, looking the way you do. You just can’t,” Logan said.

“If you wanna drink, we got it at the house. You know that. No more goin’ out, and you won’t look like this anymore,” he said, hoping to manipulate her into staying in the house, and in his sight.

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Logan said and kept repeating until she ducked in her cries. It took her a while, but she managed.

“Please understand that I want you safe, y/n. Do you understand that?” Logan asked. Y/n slowly nodded her head with a sniff, making him smile slightly.

“That’s it, baby. All I want is for my baby to be safe — No more goin’ out after tonight. Maybe with me, but I have to be by your side. It’s too dangerous,” he said.

“B-But my friends,” y/n sniffed. “They’ll be fine, baby. They love you and will understand. You want me to trust you and not be stressed out, right? You want me to be? I’m gettin’ old, and ion needa be stressin’ about my girl,” Logan said.

Y/n nodded her head, halfway understanding what he wanted, but not fully. She didn’t ask though. She just knew by the way he always acted that he wanted her in sight and safe with no funny business.

“Good, baby, good,” Logan said, looking into the girl's eyes as she looked back up at him, eyes bloody and eyelashes batting.

“You’re too pretty to be seen without me, baby, and you know that, don’t you? Don’t you, baby?” Logan asked, making her nod again.

“That's right, and you're sorry for disobeying me, right?” He asked. The way he spoke to her, made her feel like she’s actually done something wrong.

“S-Sorry,” she said low. A groan slipped past the man’s lips at her words and voice. She was too sweet to believe she was real.

“Ah huh, and are you gonna show me just how sorry you are?” He asked. Y/n surprisingly nodded quickly, wanting him to know that she meant nothing personal by the way she lived.

“Good girl — Now turn around for me,” Logan said. Her mind wasn’t honking straight, but she did as told, apologizing for her body rubbing on his as she did so. “It’s okay, baby - You’re all good,”

“I’m just a little angry, and you understand that, right? It’s acceptable to why I am, right, baby?” He asked her, making her him with a nod.

“Ah huh, and you’re gonna help me relax, right, baby?” He asked and she repeated what she had done before, but more shaky. “That right,”

Logan began unbuckling his belt, watching the girl underneath him shiver from how drunk she was, the cold air coming through the cracked window, her crying session, and the confusion of this situation.

“Never listenin’ to me, baby. I don’t like that,” Logan said before giving y/n a hard slap on her ass that was covered in her tight thin dress. A whine had slipped from her mouth, only making the man groan.

“Yeah, and I’m gonna bring all this anger right out on and into you, baby,” Logan said as he pulled himself out. “And guess what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna lay here, and take it like the disrespectful little slut you are,”

Y/n whined at his words, feeling shitty for not being respectful towards the older man, but she’ll soon understand to listen.

“Every time I pick you up or watch you walk through those doors, you’re fuckin’ soaked. I just know you’re out and about, waiting for some random man to offer his cock,”

“I know you’re whore enough to take it too, now ain’t you?” Logan asked. “N-No,” y/n shook her head with a whine as he pulled her dress up, revealing her dark wet patch.

“Sure you’re not, baby. You know the drunk sluts always say that, right? Until they’re caught being stuffed and fucked in some bar bathroom,”

Y/n whined again at his comment about what he thought of her as his fingers hooked around her pants. The man pulled his fingers back, causing the panties to rip perfectly.

“You wanna be treated like some dirty slut at the bar?” Logan asked as he put his cock in his hand. “No,” y/n truly spoke, but he didn’t believe her.

The man grabbed a handful of her hair and then pushed her head into the seat. “Are you sure, baby? Because you’re gonna spreading in my passenger seat just like them club whores,”

Before y/n could say anything, the man laughed into her, forcing his huge length through her walls, knowing she would barely be able to take him.

“Logan!” Y/n cried out loud, voice crazy as she gripped and clawed at the seats. “Nah uh, you shut the fuck up!” Logan spat through his teeth as he leaned over and into the girl's ear.

“Pussy’s so fuckin’ wet, I know you want this. You always do. Comin’ back from the fuckin’ bar all soaked and full of attitude. I just know you rub that shit in my face,”

“I fuckin’ know you come through those doors wanting me to fuck your drunk ass through my mattress,” the man snapped his hips hard.

“Oh yeah? Can't take it?” Logan asked as the young girl cried in pain and pleasure. “S-Sorry, sorry,” she quickly whined as she back arched.

“No, you’re fucking not. You’re only sayin’ it now because I’m fucking this cunt dumb,” Logan growled in the girl's ear as he tugged on her hair.

“Slutty fuckin’ cunt - Grippin’ me like she ain’t been fucked in the club already,” Logan said, making the girl shake her head.

“N-No,” she managed to say. “Oh yeah? You’re tellin’ me no man has been in this cunt at the club? Fuckin’ you silly in the bathroom as you pass out from the liquor?” Logan asked.

He had already known the answer, but he was angry. He wanted to get everything out. If he could smell how wet she was every weekend, he could smell a man on her, and thankfully for her, he never has.

“N-No,” y/n whined as she came around him without warning. He hadn’t cared that she soaked his leather seats. All he cared about was how could he could fuck he’d. Maybe if he fucked he’d be good enough, she wouldn’t dare leave the apartment again.

“That’s what I fuckin’ thought. You don’t let another man touch you. Never!” He pounded, knowing the wind out of her with every thrust.

“I swear, if you do, baby, ima kill him. Ima fuckin’ kill him then lock your ass in my room,” Logan threatened, only making y/n moan.

“My fuckin’ cunt — Mine! All fuckin’ mine and you know it. You’ve been known it, Bub, and because you wanted to play games, I’m gonna teach you what the fuck happens when you do,”

Logan took the seatbelt to the car and tied it around her wrist after pulling them man. The man soon continued his anger by slamming into her until she cried, begging him to stop.

He was rough, but y/n knew deep down that she deserved it. She was disrespectful and didn’t listen to him. He should get what he wants.

“You're mine, right, baby? All mine to use like those I want at the bar and club?” Logan asked as y/n could barely keep herself conscious. “Y-Yes,” was all she could get out.

“That’s my girl,”

[idiotgojo]

eye fucking satoru <3

tags; gojo x reader | fluff, suggestive (?) | jealous (?) insecure (?) reader

note; here's some comfort before the next chapter leak... gojo comeback 😩

"I'm not jealous, I'm just—" you waved your hands in frustration, unable to put words to match what you were feeling. That was all you could manage. Gojo, on the other hand immediately understood. He smirked, narrowing his eyes at you.

"You really don’t realize the effect you have on me, do you?"

And that was how you ended up on top straddling him, both of you still fully clothed. The heat of his body radiated through your thighs as you sat on top of him.

“What are we even doing? I’m tired. Let’s just go to bed,” you sighed, trying to lift yourself off his lap, though a part of you wasn’t entirely convinced.

"While my princess is mad at me? I'd rather die than let you sleep upset with me," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. His hands tightened on your waist, keeping you locked in place, as his gaze softened just a little with a pout.

Suddenly, a wave of insecurity hit you out of nowhere. You were usually confident—quick-witted, and perfectly aware of your beauty. But something about the way that other woman had flirted with him earlier stirred doubts. She was a contrast of you—different hair, a niche style, a whole different vibe. Was Gojo craving something new? Was he tired of you?

Just as your mind began spiraling, his palm faintly tapped your thigh, bringing you back to the present. You bit your lip, refusing to meet his eyes, knowing if you did, you might just fall apart in front of him.

"Look at me," Gojo said softly, yet firmly, as he gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Your eyes remained fixed on your fidgety hands in your lap. But Gojo wasn’t the type to let things go so easily. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered,

"I dare you to look into my eyes and see what happens."

You hesitated, but curiosity, or maybe just him, got the best of you. Slowly, you met his gaze.

In seconds, you felt it—him hardening beneath you, unmistakable and sudden. You gasped, instinctively glancing down at his growing length pressing against the thin fabric of your clothes. Heat rushed to your cheeks as you blushed furiously.

Gojo chuckled, reaching up to grab your chin with one hand, tilting your head up to meet his eyes again. His other hand slid up your thigh, teasing.

"Now do you see the effect you have on me?" he asked, his voice loud with excitement, eyes locked on yours that sent a shiver down your spine. The corner of his mouth lifted in a sly smile as he waited for you to respond.

Words failed you, your brain fuzzy, buzzing with the intensity of the moment. Instead, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a searing kiss. His lips claimed yours, biting gently on your lower lip, eliciting a moan from you. The pressure of his body beneath yours, the friction as you rocked your hips against him—it all made your pulse race, drowning out every thought but him.

Both of you groaned softly into each other’s mouths, hands roaming feverishly. The heat between you was undeniable, and the tension finally snapped as you deepened the kiss, tongues tangling, breathing ragged and needy.

That night, Gojo didn’t just show you his desire—he made it clear that you were the only one he ever wanted. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word left no room for doubt. You were his one and only.

disclaimer (?); a lot of ??? in the whole post, which is probably because I'm not even a real writer. I just write for fun, a place to collect and keep my scenarios I create in my head before I go to bed lol. This is my first written piece! Enjoy :)

© idiotgojo 2024 do not steal or translate. if you wish to use the idea and create a better fic please tag me :)

[deesixxs]

CW; breeding k!nk, slight choking k!nk, very rough and dark!abby. That’s all I can really think of, have fun!

Authors note:

Dni if ageless, under 18 or a man!!

Thank you for reading this, this is my first ever time writing a fic, if I need to do anything to improve please let me know! This is the raw unedited version and I hope you enjoy

Love yall!

You have never been so bored, so horny. Abby was at the gym and you had nothing to do except lay on the bed and wait around. You groan and you grumble when an idea pops into your mind. Sure, it’s dumb and possibly dangerous. You decide to give Abby a call. Calls are only reserved for emergencies but you being this horny should count as one. The phone rings and you are met with no answer. You try again about 4 more times before she answers. “Is it an emergency?!” She sounds panicked. “I’m horny and I need you.” You respond back. She’s furious. “Really? Are you serious? Fuckin’ wait until I’m home” she hangs up the phone and you got the answer you expect, but not the one you wanted. You wanted her to speed home and fuck you the moment she walks in the door. You begin to grow impatient and start to touch yourself, you pick up your phone and take a picture, sending it to Abby. You know it will drive her mad and it will get you in trouble, but maybe that’s the fun of it. You don’t receive a message back, she only leaves you on read. It’s what you would expect from her but still, you wish you could see her face when she received the picture. About 10 minutes later you hear the door slam and a heavy bang of her gym bag on the floor. The sound of footsteps filling your ears along with the fast thump of your heart. You know you’re in deep shit. The door slams open and you feel hands wrap around your ankles and pull you towards the end of the bed. The blonde girl sits down next to you on the edge of the bed and then props you over her knee. You know what’s about to happen. And you know it’s going to hurt and there will be no mercy. “Fucking whore. You couldn’t wait hm? You wanted to get punished didn’t you? So fucking stupid.” She strikes your ass open palmed with a thwack. “Answer me you little shit. You wanted this?” Your mind races, barely able to form coherent thoughts. “Y-yes” you finally mumble out before another blow meets your round, and now red ass. She grabs you by your hair and throws you onto the bed, your ass up in the air, facing her. She places her cold hand against your spine and pushes down, making you arch. Without warning she licks a fat stripe from your clit all the way to your hole. She slurps up all your juices mercilessly. She kneads your ass and smacks it once more before grabbing you by your neck and pulling your back to her chest, you let out a small whimper and a yelp. “You gonna be a good girl and listen to me? Huh, princess?” Her hot breath tickling your ear and your neck. She pushes you with full force back against the bed before she stands back up. You already know what she’s going to grab, you don’t have to see to know what’s going on. You hear her rummage through the closet before pulling out a black box. She pulls out a breeding strap and buckles it to her hips. She sits back on the bed and without warning she slams deep into you, immediately hitting your cervix. You let out a loud yelp and your back arches upward. It hurts, the immediate impact to your insides. She doesn’t care, she keeps going and continues to pound fastly into you. “God, so fucking tight. Look how this pussy just swallows and begs for my cock.” She whispers in between thrusts. You can feel her hips start to falter and her breaths get quicker, you know she is about to cum, and so are you. You’re quick to get to the edge just before she runs her finger over your clit, rubbing tight circles. It makes you cum instantly, you let out a loud moan of pleasure, “good fucking girl, just wait, I need to cum..” she’s overstimulating you, chasing her own release, and just as she cums, you feel a warm fluid filling your insides, you can feel it drip down your thighs, she pulls out in awe, seeing the cum drip out of your wet and puffy pussy. She is quick to take off the strap and grab you water. “Here, drink” she passes you the water and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear before kissing your forehead. “Was I too rough? Are you ok? I’m sor-“ you cut her off with a kiss to shut her up “it was perfect my girl, I love you”

[spiderbeam]

and okay feel free to ignore this one because ive sent a bunch already buttt 🎧+max+7

🎧 — bugambilia by nasa histoires

Max is nervous. He hadn’t realized it until the bell dinged with his entrance, until you spoke your usual greeting, until your eyes met his and a smile spread over your lips. He’s a three time world champion, an icon of the world of motorsport, a celebrity—and yet he finds himself growing jittery at the sight of you.

Of course you’d be the type to fall for the one person in Europe who doesn’t know your name, Danny had teased.

He’d denied it. He didn’t have feelings for you. He had simply developed a fondness for flowers—and he just happened to like yours most.

“Didn’t think I’d be seeing you this soon.” You dust your hands on your overalls as you stand up to greet him. You look pretty in overalls, he finds. Prettier even with your hair held up by a bow—alongside that lovely smile that always makes his heart skip a beat in his chest. “Thought you said you were leaving the country for work.”

Max realizes then he’s stayed quiet for too long. “Um, yeah,” he starts awkwardly, hands tucked in his pockets before he takes them out soon after. What do people usually do with their hands? “I did. It was just for the weekend, though.”

“Did you have fun?” you ask, before meeting his gaze with a playful roll of your eyes. “I know, work is work, but…”

“It was fine,” Max clicks his tongue, hoping he doesn’t sound too dismissive. “Not great.”

“Sorry to hear that.” You purse your lips, thinking for a moment. “Maybe you can rant a little while I trim these?” You gesture at the newly arrived flowers.

Max chuckles a little. He’s done plenty of ranting. Mostly in front of a camera. “Actually, I was hoping to get to hear you talk about your flowers—maybe give me a hand?”

You straighten as you stand up, nodding. “What’s today’s purchase gonna be?”

“Another gift,” he says, even though he’s ran out of friends to gift bouquets to. Twice is two times too many before they start looking at him weird.

You nod your head, ponytail bobbing. “Alright.” You clasp your hands together, smiling up at him. “Wanna look around for something that catches your eye, or are you in search for anything in particular?”

Max tilts his head at you. “Which are your favorites this week?” He asked you the same question last time, and the time before that. But, as you told him before, you can’t make up your mind—not permanently, anyway. Each time he comes around, you have a different answer prepared for him.

This time, you’re grinning. “C’mon, I’ll show you.” And then your hand is in his as you steer him towards the very back of the shop—and Max can feel his breath stuttering. He blinks in rapid succession, hoping to get himself to snap out of it. Jesus Christ, you’re just holding her hand. Pull yourself together.

Finally, you stop beside a shelf with purple and fuchsia flowers with papery petals and tiny light yellow blossoms inside them. Max feels as you let go of him, prompting him to step closer to the flowers. He leans forward, hoping to catch some floral scent like the lilies and jasmines you gave him a few weeks back. He doesn’t smell anything.

“They don’t have a scent,” you tell him. “It’s bugambilia. Bougainvillea. It’s not usually used for bouquets, though, so people rarely buy any. Except for this one woman, Marisol—she says it reminds her of home. But she only takes a few branches, doesn’t really want them as a bouquet.” You’re smiling when he turns back to you. “They don’t grow around here—not naturally, anyway. It’s why I like them.”

“Bougainvillea,” Max repeats, committing the syllables to memory. “So you’ve never had to sell a bouquet of these?”

“Not yet.” You shrug. “It’s under appreciated, in my opinion. I mean—most people just buy roses. Maybe sunflowers.”

He remembers you ranting about that last week. How impersonal is it to give red roses to someone on a date? It’s like giving a gift card. No sentiment whatsoever.

And Max, surprisingly enough, agreed. He believes in personal gestures. Gifts that proof you’ve been listening, that you’ve been paying attention. And as he side-glances at you, he can see your stare still lingering on the purple and pink flowers. He doesn’t need to think it over before he’s saying: “I’ll take it.”

You nod in approval, reaching up to take a few flowers. “I knew you would,” you say proudly, nudging his shoulder playfully. “You’ve got good taste, Max.”

Max chuckles. “Not really,” he says, shaking his head. “I just happen to know someone who does.” He’s looking at you as he says it, scratching his cheek, but he can see your lovely smile falter slightly. His brows pinch together.

You haul your selected bougainvillea onto the counter, with Max trailing close behind. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who buys as many flowers as you do—not that I’m complaining.” You try to sneak a glance at him as you’re tying off his bouquet. Max relishes in the heat that crawls up your cheeks when he catches you.

This is his chance, he realizes. But then he’s running circles again because what if you think he’s creepy? That he’s been buying flowers from you in hopes of finally building up the courage to ask you out? It’s not only creepy, it’s pathetic. It’s been nearly a month since he first met you. It’s taken him a whole month to get to this. Stupid. And since when does he get nervous like this around girls? He’s Max Verstappen.

But you’re you.

“You okay?” you ask, peering at him. “You’ve been a little quiet today.”

“Yeah, sorry. Um, I just—” He means to ask you, he really does, but this one tiny detail doesn’t escape his attention as you leave the flowers on the counter, wrapped in pretty ribbons, ready for him to take home. He stares at you, dumbfounded. “I—I haven’t paid yet.”

Your expression sends butterflies fluttering around his stomach. “Consider it a gift. For keeping me company on a slow day.”

But Max is already pulling out his wallet out of his back pocket. “No, no, I can pay.”

“Max,” you say, voice caught somewhere between soft and stern. “It’s a gift. You don’t pay for gifts.”

He scratches his cheek again, a quirk of his you’ve come to find endearing. “Doesn’t this get taken out of your paycheck?”

You shrug nonchalantly. “No one buys bougainvillea. One of my coworkers would’ve probably ended up throwing them away.”

You’re dodging his question, and Max doesn’t know how to tell you that he can afford it without making it seem like he doesn’t appreciate the gesture.

You seem to decide for him when you grab the bouquet and hand it to him. Your fingertips graze his knuckles, shooting sparks beneath his skin. He should ask you now. You’re smiling like you don’t even know the effect you have on him.

“Your—”

“Would you—” Max clears his throat, pink on his cheeks. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

You smile again, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. You laugh lightly, but it doesn’t sound as genuine. “Nothing—just that your girlfriend’s really lucky. I’d kill to have someone buy me as many flowers every week.”

“My—what?” Max blinks once. Twice. Three times before the words finally dislodge from his throat. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Oh, your boyfriend?” you amend, playing with your fingers.

“I’m not seeing anyone,” Max says bluntly. He’s still cradling his bougainvilleas as he watches realization wash over your face.

“Oh.” Heat is climbing up your cheeks, and for the first time all afternoon, you’re the one stumbling over your words. “O-Oh. I just thought that—I mean, since you’ve been coming around so much, and you’re like, handsome, and sweet, so I just assumed—”

“Do you wanna go out some time?” Max interrupts, ears tinted red. There’s a pretty blush spreading his face. A giddy nervousness building up in his gut. “With me, I mean. Do you want to go out with me?”

Your lips curl upward, heat radiating from your face. Max feels flowers growing in his chest. Hydrangeas, carnations, tulips, wisteria. Purple bougainvillea flowers.

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

eve’s 1k celebration 🎧

this one was very loosely based on the song more on the vibes than the actual lyrics so i might revisit this song and make another more angstier drabble in the future….. for now i just recommend giving the song a listen <3 also i’m not used to writing for max AT ALL so hopefully it didn’t feel too ooc

[d-targaryenshoe]

Blissful Banter- Luke Thompson

Word count: 1432

Summary: Yet a lie detector brings fun to one's connection even the truth likes to be discovered.

Luke glanced at the lie detector machine with skepticism and amusement.

You sat across from him with a playful smile on your face.

You had been together for a little over a year, and despite your age gap—Luke being thirty-six and you twenty-five, you had developed a deep and affectionate relationship.

However, you both had a teasing nature, often poking fun at each other in a way that only made your bond stronger.

Today, you decided to put your playful banter to the test, literally, by trying out a lie detector test.

"Are you sure about this?" Luke asked, raising an eyebrow as he watched the technician prepare the equipment.

"Absolutely," you replied, your voice light with excitement. "I’ve always wanted to see if you could lie to me with a straight face."

Luke chuckled, shaking his head. "I don’t lie, love. I’m an open book."

You snorted, rolling your eyes. "Sure, and I’m the Queen of England."

The technician, a stern-looking man in his fifties, adjusted the sensors on Luke’s wrist.

"Remember, the machine will measure changes in your physiological responses," he explained in a monotone. "So try to relax."

"Easy for you to say," Luke muttered under his breath. He caught your amused gaze and winked. "Bring it on."

With the machine ready, the technician nodded at you to start.

"Okay, let’s start with something simple," you said, crossing your legs and leaning back in your chair. "Who’s your favorite character in Bridgerton?"

Luke smirked. "Benedict, of course. How can I not."

The lie detector remained steady, confirming his truthfulness.

"Really?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "Your own character."

Luke laughed, shaking his head. "Anthony’s too uptight. And Colin is the opposite of Ben, cool, confident, and irresistible."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile. "Alright, Mr. Confident. Let’s see if you’re as honest about other things."

You leaned forward, your tone turning teasingly. "Do you like my cooking?"

Luke hesitated for a fraction of a second, a split-second that didn’t escape your notice.

"Of course I do," he replied, his voice a tad too enthusiastic.

The machine beeped softly, indicating a small spike.

You gasped, your eyes wide with mock indignation. "You liar! I knew you didn’t like my quinoa salad!"

Luke chuckled, shrugging. "It’s not that I don’t like it, I just... prefer your lasagna."

"Mm-hmm," you said, squinting at him playfully. "I’ll remember that next time you ask for seconds."

The atmosphere between you was light and full of affection, with the lie detector test turning into a fun game rather than a serious interrogation.

You both knew that these little white lies—like Luke’s opinion on quinoa—were part of what made your relationship so enjoyable.

"Alright, my turn," Luke said, sitting up a bit straighter. "Do you secretly think I’m too old for you?"

Your expression softened as you considered your answer. "Truthfully? No, I don’t think you’re too old for me. I love that you’re a bit older. It makes me feel like I have someone who’s mature and knows what he wants."

The machine stayed silent, confirming your truthfulness.

Luke’s heart warmed at your words, and he smiled, reaching across the table to take your hand. "I’m glad to hear that."

You squeezed his hand in return, then leaned back with a mischievous grin. "But just to keep things interesting… Do you ever get jealous when I talk about how attractive Simone Ashley is?"

Luke’s grin turned into a mock scowl. "Jealous? Me? Never." But the lie detector’s soft beep betrayed him.

You burst out laughing. "I knew it! You’re jealous."

Luke raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, fine, maybe just a little. But can you blame me? She's an absolute gem."

"True," you agreed, still giggling. "But don’t worry, you’re the only one for me."

You shared a tender moment, the banter giving way to genuine affection.

Luke realized that despite the light-hearted nature of the test, it was reaffirming what you both knew deep down—that you were crazy about each other, quirks and all.

"Okay, back to business," Luke said, clearing his throat. "How much did you actually know about Bridgerton before we started dating?"

You blushed slightly, biting your lip. "Honestly? Not much. I might have watched a couple of episodes before, but I wasn’t really into it until I met you."

The machine remained silent, and Luke smiled. "So, you started watching it just because of me?"

"Maybe," you admitted, your cheeks still pink. "I mean, it was worth it to understand your character."

Luke laughed, feeling touched. "That’s sweet. I’ll give you that one."

"Your turn," you said, your eyes gleaming with mischief. "Did you really think I was into you on our first date, or did you think I was just being polite?"

Luke chuckled, remembering your first date. "I was pretty sure you were into me. I mean, who wouldn’t be?"

You raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for the lie detector’s verdict.

The machine, however, remained steady, backing up Luke’s confidence.

"Wow, someone’s cocky," you teased, though you were impressed.

"What can I say?" Luke replied, grinning. "I’ve got a sixth sense for these things."

You shook your head, as though you were smiling. "Alright, Mr. Sixth Sense. Here’s a tough one—have you ever lied to me about something important?"

Luke’s smile faltered slightly as he thought about the question.

He wanted to answer quickly and truthfully, but the seriousness of the question caught him off guard.

"No," he said finally, his tone sincere. "I haven’t lied to you about anything important."

The lie detector agreed with him, showing no signs of deception.

You smiled softly, your eyes filled with warmth. "Good. I believe you."

Luke exhaled, realizing just how much your trust meant to him. "I’d never lie to you about something that mattered. You’re too important to me."

For a moment, the playful atmosphere shifted to something deeper, a reminder of the solid foundation you had built together despite your age difference and different life experiences.

"Okay," you said, clearing your throat and lightening the mood again.

"Let’s end on a fun one. Have you ever pretended to be interested in one of my hobbies just because you didn’t want to hurt my feelings?"

Luke laughed, knowing exactly what you were referring to. "You mean like when I pretended to enjoy that pottery class?"

You gasped, your eyes wide with faux outrage. "You didn’t enjoy it?"

"The clay was all over the place, and I made a bowl that looked more like a pancake," Luke admitted, grinning. "But I did it because I wanted to spend time with you."

The lie detector stayed silent, indicating that he was telling the truth.

You giggled, shaking your head. "Okay, I’ll give you that. But I actually thought your pancake bowl was pretty cute."

"Thanks," Luke said, smiling. "But let’s stick to your cooking from now on."

You laughed, the sound warm and infectious. "Deal. But only if you promise to keep watching Bridgerton with me, even when there’s no more Simon Basset."

Luke leaned across the table, capturing your lips in a quick, affectionate kiss. "Deal."

As you wrapped up the lie detector session, Luke realized that the test, while initially just a bit of fun, had brought you closer.

The playful teasing, the honest confessions, and the laughter reminded you both of why you worked so well together.

Despite the differences in your ages, your relationship was built on trust, understanding, and a shared sense of humor.

"Well, that was fun," you said as you stood up, stretching after being seated for so long. "We should do this again sometime."

"Only if you’re ready to admit that I’m your favorite Bridgerton," Luke replied with a wink.

You rolled your eyes, as though you were smiling. "We’ll see about that. Maybe I’ll start lying just to keep you on your toes."

Luke laughed, wrapping an arm around your waist as you walked out of the room. "As long as you keep laughing with me, I think we’ll be just fine."

As you left the building, the sun setting in the distance, you both knew that the little adventure with the lie detector had only strengthened your bond.

After all, love wasn’t just about being truthful, it was about finding joy in each other’s quirks, teasing, and growing together—even when a lie detector was involved.

With that thought in mind, Luke and you walked hand in hand, ready to face whatever challenges—and jokes—your relationship might bring next.

[elysiaheaven]

𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠- 𝐃𝐫 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨 𝐱 𝐅.𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (Smut)

Words:6000

Genre: Smut

Summary: You decided to help him create a alabaster sculpture, after he broke it. He invites you to a bath, Only to fucking read a damned book

CW: Mentions of Hickey, Marking, Degradation, Overstimulation, Bondage kink, Dom Ratio, Bottom y/n, Dirty talks, Fingering, Rough sex,

You stand in Dr. Ratio’s dimly lit workplace, the faint scent of drying plaster and damp stone lingering in the air. Sunlight filters through tall windows, casting long shadows across the half-finished sculptures and scattered tools. A broken alabaster headpiece sits on a table nearby, the remnants of his last attempt—one that shattered due to his frustration.

He’s leaning over a block of clay now, his wavy violet hair obscuring the sharp focus in his eyes as he meticulously carves details into the surface. You try to suppress a smile, but you can’t help it. Despite his irritable and sarcastic nature, you adore him.

“Focus,” Ratio’s voice slices through your thoughts. He glances at your work with a smirk that borders on condescension. “If you’re going to waste my time, at least try to do it properly.”

You huff, rolling your eyes at his sharp tongue, though deep down, you find comfort in the familiar banter. After all, this wasn’t about proving yourself to him. It was about being close to him—no matter how cruel he sometimes tried to be. He enjoyed teasing you, and you let him because, well… you loved him.

Your hands move over the clay in front of you, smoothing out the rough edges as you try to mirror his techniques. Every movement is deliberate, as if he’s watching your every misstep.

It hadn’t always been this way.

There was a time you were with Aventurine, a bond you once thought would last. The two of you shared long nights under the stars, discussing investments and strategies in a way only the IPC’s brightest could. But things changed after a specific incident—a time where you felt doubt creep into your relationship, where you felt unsure of what you wanted. Topaz offered you a new position, a way out of the pressure you had put on yourself with Aventurine. And you took it.

He made you forget it

You and Ratio met not long after that. You worked together, your skills and ambitions clashing but complementing one another in unexpected ways. It wasn’t until one fateful night in Penacony, that he confessed.

“I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” Ratio had said, his usual confidence flickering for the briefest moment. “You and Aventurine… you were something. I don’t want to be the rebound—don't want to be the second choice. But I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel something for you. So, there. I’ve said it. Do with that what you will.”

Your heart had pounded in your chest, unsure of how to respond. You nodded, too overwhelmed with emotions to find the words. That had been the turning point. Now, you stood by his side, his lover, his student, and more.

“You’re messing up the contours again,” he snaps, pulling you back to the present. “Are you even paying attention?”

“Maybe if you weren’t so mean about it, I’d do better,” you mutter under your breath, not entirely joking. His eyes narrow slightly, but the corner of his lips twitch upward, betraying a smirk.

"Maybe," he replies, setting his tools down and crossing his arms. "But then where’s the fun in that?"

You give him a playful glare and return to your work, but his presence beside you is comforting. He walks over, looming behind you. His muscular build casts a shadow over your small sculpture, and without warning, his hands cover yours. He guides you in carving smoother lines, his touch both firm and surprisingly gentle.

“You’re making it too complicated,” he murmurs in your ear, his voice low but full of that familiar arrogance. “Simplicity is key. Don’t overthink it.”

The sensation of his breath on your neck sends shivers down your spine. He’s close, too close for you to focus on the task. But you pretend, anyway.

“Is this better?” you ask, turning your head slightly to meet his reddish-pink eyes. They flicker with something unspoken, but he nods after a moment, letting go of your hands.

“Passable,” he says, moving away, but you catch the faintest trace of a smile.

The hours pass in a comfortable silence, the two of you working on the new alabaster headpiece for him. His sharp criticisms gradually soften into suggestions, and eventually, you create something he approves of—a new sculpture, perfect for him to wear.

You take a step back, admiring the finished product with pride.

He picks it up, turning it over in his hands before placing it on his head, the alabaster gleaming in the light. He looks at you, his usual smugness replaced with a rare moment of sincerity. “Not bad,” he says.

It’s as close to a compliment as you’re going to get, but it’s enough.

Ratio steps closer, his eyes locking onto yours. “You’ve done well,” he murmurs, voice lowering as he reaches out to gently tilt your chin up. “And… I’m glad you stayed, despite everything.”

Your breath catches, and for a moment, the world feels still, the air between you heavy with unspoken words. He leans in slowly, his lips brushing yours in a soft, almost hesitant kiss. It’s brief, but the warmth lingers as he pulls back, eyes searching yours.

“And don’t think for a second that means I’ll be easier on you,”

You roll your eyes..

You stand back to admire your work, you don’t realize your hands are still caked in clay until you try to brush a stray hair out of your face. The smudge leaves a streak across your cheek, and when you look down, your clothes are covered in it too. You groan softly, trying to wipe it off, but it only smears further.

“You’re a mess,” Dr. Ratio’s voice comes from behind you, rich with amusement.

Before you can respond, his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you into him. His muscular frame is warm against your back, and you can feel the rise and fall of his chest as he holds you close. He leans his chin lightly on your shoulder, his violet hair brushing your skin as his reddish-pink eyes lock onto yours in the reflection of a nearby glass pane. There’s a playfulness in his gaze, but also something deeper, something that makes your heart race.

"You’re dirty right now,” he murmurs, his voice carrying that usual commanding tone, though softer than usual.

You twist in his arms, a teasing grin forming on your lips. “Or maybe you’re just too clean,” you whisper before leaning up to kiss him lightly, just brushing the surface of his lips.

Ratio’s eyes darken as he narrows his gaze at you. The air between you crackles with tension, and for a moment, he just stares at you, unblinking. “I’m the one who kissed you, right?” he says, his voice low and dangerous.

You barely have time to react before he cups the back of your neck and crashes his lips onto yours, kissing you with a fierce intensity that sends a wave of heat rushing through your body. His grip tightens slightly, pulling you even closer, and you melt into him, losing yourself in the moment.

His lips move against yours with practiced precision, but there’s an underlying hunger, a need that he’s finally letting surface. He tilts your head slightly, deepening the kiss, and you can feel him smile against your lips when you gasp softly. There’s something both possessive and tender in the way he holds you—like he’s teaching you how to give in completely.

After a moment, Ratio pulls back just enough to speak, his voice huskier than before. “You need to stop teasing if you want to learn,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

You feel his lips brush yours again, slower this time, more deliberate. His hands guide your face as he kisses you deeper, teaching you the rhythm he wants. His tongue traces your lower lip, coaxing a response from you as his kiss grows more insistent, almost like he’s showing you every secret behind his confident, often cold demeanor.

Your arms wrap around his neck as you lean into him, completely lost in his touch. The clay on your hands leaves marks on his skin and clothes, but neither of you care. The world fades around you as Ratio pours all his frustration, passion, and unspoken feelings into the kiss, guiding you with every motion, every shift of his lips against yours.

When he finally pulls back, both of you are breathing heavily, the air between you charged. His eyes search yours, and the usual smugness in his expression is softened by something more vulnerable, more real.

“I hope you’re paying attention,” he whispers, his thumb brushing your cheek lightly. “Because I’m not going to repeat that lesson.”

You cross your arms and give Ratio a teasing grin, knowing exactly how to push his buttons. "I didn’t get it," you say, feigning innocence, "Maybe I need a few more lessons." You bat your eyes playfully, knowing full well what you’re doing.

Ratio sighs, his lips twitching in that familiar mix of amusement and frustration. "You’re impossible, you know that?" His eyes narrow, though there’s a glint in them that says he’s not entirely annoyed. He looks down at both of you, noticing the clay smeared across your clothes, his shirt, and even your hair. "Look at us, we’re both a mess." He runs a hand through his wavy violet hair, now streaked with bits of clay. "I’m going to take a bath."

He turns to walk away, his tone casual as if what he’s about to say next is no big deal. "You should join me."

You hesitate, unsure if he’s serious. "It’s okay, I’ll—"

Ratio turns his head slightly, raising an eyebrow as if challenging you. "I don’t believe you," he says, his voice low and smooth, leaving no room for argument. His eyes flicker with something unreadable. "You’ll join me."

You swallow, your heart racing as you nod, not entirely sure what’s pulling you into this but unable to say no.

You don’t know how it happened, but here you are—submerged in fragrant, warm water, the scent of rose petals filling the air as they float lazily on the surface. The steam curls up around the edges of the large marble tub, wrapping around you like a blanket. You’re sitting across from Ratio, both of you completely naked, the water lapping softly against your skin.

Ratio, in typical fashion, looks completely unbothered. He’s reclining back, his eyes skimming over the pages of a book he must’ve grabbed on the way in. His muscles are relaxed, his toned form half-submerged in the water, and yet there’s something almost regal about the way he sits—completely in control, even in this intimate setting.

Meanwhile, you’re blushing furiously, trying to keep your eyes from wandering. The bubbles and rose petals do a decent job of covering the most vulnerable parts of your body, but it doesn’t stop the heat rising in your cheeks. You bite your lip, the silence between you heavy, but neither of you speaks. The only sound is the gentle sloshing of water and the occasional soft rustle as Ratio turns the page of his book.

A small yellow rubber duck bobs between you two, bumping against your knee. You can’t help but huff in annoyance. Here you are, completely flustered, and Ratio is sitting there, reading—acting as if this is the most normal thing in the world.

"Seriously?" you mutter under your breath, half-joking but half-frustrated. "You’re just going to ignore me and read your book? Insensitive much?"

Ratio doesn’t even look up from his book, though you can see the slight curve of a smirk on his lips. "You’re the one who said you didn’t get it," he says, his tone maddeningly calm. "Maybe if you paid more attention, I wouldn’t have to keep teaching you."

Your eyes narrow, but before you can retort, his gaze finally flicks up to meet yours. His reddish-pink eyes, framed by the soft curls of violet hair, pierce through you, making your breath catch. There’s something dark and amused in his expression, as if he’s enjoying every bit of your frustration.

"Do you want my attention, or are you just trying to be difficult?" His voice is smooth, but there’s a challenge hidden underneath it, one that makes your heart pound even faster.

You huff, crossing your arms as you stare at him, the frustration building. “You’re so unromantic,” you complain, your voice edging into a whine. “We’re in a bath together, surrounded by rose petals, and you’re just… reading?”

Ratio doesn’t even flinch, casually turning another page in his book. “The rose petals,” he says, his tone as indifferent as ever, “are for the scent. Nothing more.”

You blink at him, completely thrown off. “For the scent? You’re kidding, right?” Your eyes narrow, and you give him a look that clearly says you’re unimpressed. “Who puts rose petals in a bath just for the scent? That’s such a ridiculous excuse.”

Finally, he lowers his book slightly, glancing at you with a cold, unreadable expression. “It’s not an excuse. It’s practical.” His voice carries that usual sharpness, cutting through the thick steam around you. “Do you want the truth, or do you prefer fantasies?”

Your frustration boils over, and you push yourself up from the bath, the water cascading down your skin as you start to stand. “Unbelievable!” you mutter under your breath. “I don’t need lessons on scents from someone who doesn’t understand basic romance.”

But before you can fully rise, Ratio’s hand shoots out, gripping your wrist with surprising speed. In one swift motion, he pulls you back down into the water, his strength undeniable as you fall against his chest. The splash sends water spilling over the sides of the tub, and the air between you crackles with tension.

“Sit,” he commands, his voice low and firm, not giving you a chance to argue.

You glare at him, but your body goes still as you feel his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you even closer. His skin is warm against yours, and his touch sends a shiver down your spine, despite your irritation. He leans forward, his breath hot against your ear as he speaks, his tone slower now, more deliberate.

“You want romance?” His voice is barely a whisper, yet it sends a jolt through you. “Let me teach you something about scent.”

His hand trails up your arm, pausing to brush away a strand of wet hair from your face. “Scent is powerful,” he murmurs, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “It’s not just for decoration, it’s a signal. A memory. The roses… you’re not paying attention to what they’re really doing.”

You shiver, his words sinking in as he continues. “Roses have always been a symbol of passion, of longing. Their scent is designed to linger, to invade your senses.” His hands move up to cup your face, forcing you to meet his eyes. “When you think of this moment, the scent of these petals will remind you of it—whether you like it or not.”

Your heart races, your breath coming in shallow as Ratio’s eyes hold yours, his intensity making it impossible to look away. His voice drops even lower, a subtle challenge laced within. “So, tell me again, is this unromantic? Or are you simply unaware of what’s really happening around you?”

You’re speechless, caught between the frustration you felt moments ago and the way his words now swirl in your mind. Before you can gather a response, Ratio smirks faintly, brushing his thumb against your lips.

“Next time, think before you act. You’ll find there’s more to everything than what you see on the surface.” He leans in, his lips hovering close to yours but not quite touching. “Now… do you still need another lesson, or have you learned enough?”

His words hang in the air, and you realize you’re clinging to him, your frustration long forgotten. The rose petals drift around you, their scent now intoxicating as you sit there, your body pressed against his. You bite your lip, but the heat in your cheeks is impossible to hide.

“Maybe…” you whisper, eyes half-lidded as you lean into him, “I need just one more lesson.”

As the kiss deepens, Ratio’s hands move with deliberate precision, pulling away just enough to look into your eyes. He releases you from his embrace, his fingers trailing lightly down your arms, leaving a trail of tingling warmth.

“Let’s add a little more… complexity to your lesson,” Ratio murmurs, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint. He reaches over to a nearby cabinet and retrieves a soft, silk blindfold. The fabric glides between his fingers as he holds it up, inspecting it with a contemplative look.

You blink, your heart pounding as he brings the blindfold closer. “What are you—”

Before you can finish, Ratio gently but firmly places the blindfold over your eyes, tying it securely behind your head. The darkness is immediate and complete, enveloping you in a world of black.

You shift uncomfortably, trying to adjust to the sudden loss of sight. The warmth of the bath and Ratio’s presence are the only things grounding you now. “Ratio… what’s this about?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, you hear him move around, the soft rustle of his clothing and the gentle splash of water filling your senses. “Studies show that when you can’t see what’s happening,” he starts, his voice a smooth, calming presence in the darkness, “your brain becomes more attuned to other senses. Touch, sound, scent—they all become heightened. It’s a fascinating phenomenon.”

You shiver, your skin tingling with anticipation and curiosity. “And what does that mean for me?”

“It means,” he says, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper, “that you’re going to experience everything in a new way.” His fingers brush lightly against your arm, sending a jolt of electricity through you. “You’ll have to rely on your other senses to understand what’s happening.”

His touch is feather-light, making you shiver as he explores your skin with a practiced, teasing touch. His fingertips graze your shoulders, your neck, and the small of your back, each touch sending waves of sensation through you. The silk blindfold leaves you feeling both vulnerable and exhilarated, heightening every whisper of his touch, every movement.

Ratio’s voice becomes a soft murmur, though it’s clear he’s enjoying the effect he’s having on you. “When the brain can’t see, it often fills in gaps with what it already knows or anticipates,” he explains. “It’s a way of adapting, of creating a picture from incomplete information. Right now, you’re creating an experience based on the limited input you’re receiving.”

You feel his breath against your ear, and his voice lowers even more, almost a purr. “The question is, how much of this can you interpret? How much will you understand without seeing it?”

His hands move to your waist, guiding you gently but firmly. His touch is both confident and tender, each caress and stroke meticulously designed to draw out your reactions. You can’t help but respond, your body leaning into his touch, the warmth and closeness of him filling your senses.

A soft, playful chuckle escapes him. “You’re reacting quite beautifully. It’s interesting how the brain can be so focused on sensation when it’s deprived of sight.” He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he continues, his voice a low, intimate whisper. “Every touch, every sound, every breath I take is magnified for you. Your mind is building an image of me, of what I’m doing, based on what you feel.”

His hands wander gently over your body, teasingly exploring every inch of your skin, making you squirm and gasp with each new sensation. The anticipation and the unknown heighten every touch, every whisper, making your pulse race.

Ratio’s fingers trail up to your neck, his touch light yet purposeful. “Tell me,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin, “what do you think I’m doing now? Can you imagine it? Can you sense the intention behind each touch?”

You breathe heavily, trying to focus on the sensations he’s providing, each one building a complex picture in your mind. “I… I think you’re—”

He cuts you off with another teasing touch, his fingertips tracing slow, deliberate patterns on your skin. “Think harder,” he encourages, his voice laced with amusement. “The more you pay attention, the clearer the picture becomes.”

Ratio’s lips brush lightly against your ear, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine. His kisses are soft, teasing, a gentle press of warmth that contrasts with the cool air around you. The blindfold makes everything feel more intense, each touch and kiss magnified in the darkness.

You gasp softly as his lips move along the sensitive skin of your ear, trailing slow, deliberate kisses. His breath is warm and teasing against your skin, and each soft touch makes you more aware of how sensitive you are to his every move.

His hands, still resting on your waist, move upward with a tender, almost reverent touch. He explores the contours of your shoulders and neck, his fingers brushing lightly over the sensitive skin there. Each touch feels like it’s designed to provoke a response, making you squirm and lean into him more.

Ratio’s lips continue their path along your ear, his kisses growing more insistent, more lingering. He traces the outer edge of your ear with his lips, planting soft kisses along the delicate folds. The contrast between the soft, teasing kisses and the firm grip of his hands makes every sensation feel more intense, more immediate.

“You’re very responsive,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble against your ear. “It’s fascinating how much the brain can focus on when it’s deprived of sight. You’re feeling everything more acutely.”

His fingers trace slow, deliberate circles on your neck, drawing patterns that make you shiver with anticipation. The warmth of his touch contrasts with the cool air around you, creating a heightened sense of awareness. Each kiss, each caress, seems to build a growing tension, an almost unbearable anticipation of what’s coming next.

He pulls back slightly, just enough to whisper in your ear, his voice soft and intimate. “Do you feel how much more vivid everything is? How each touch is amplified because you can’t see it?”

Before you can answer, Ratio’s lips find their way back to your ear, his kisses becoming more fervent. His tongue occasionally flicks out to trace the delicate skin, each movement precise and deliberate. You feel his hands gently slide from your neck to the sides of your torso, his touch both gentle and commanding.

His kisses become more exploratory, his lips moving to the sensitive spots just behind your ear. The sensation is almost overwhelming, making your breathing come in short, erratic bursts. He continues to tease you with soft, lingering kisses, his touch expertly calibrated to make you shiver and gasp.

“I want you to understand,” he murmurs, his voice a seductive whisper, “how every sensation is magnified when you can’t see. It’s a lesson in perception and anticipation.” He leans in even closer, his lips brushing against your ear in a way that makes your pulse quicken. “Each touch, each kiss, is meant to make you feel more intensely. I want you to remember this feeling.”

Then! Life was tooo good! He told you a business and you were ready to suck it off!

You immediately got down to business.

You did everything as carefully as possible and delayed the process in order to tease Veritas and see how he would react. He was reacting, even if he barely showed it. His breathing was labored, but he was still looking at you with the same arrogance.

You continue your meticulous work, you're keenly aware of every reaction from Ratio. His breaths grow heavier, his arrogant gaze softening just a fraction. But still, he maintains that cool demeanor, watching you intently as you go about your task.

With each teasing delay, each flick of your tongue, you sense his control slipping. Yet, he holds onto his composure, refusing to show you any satisfaction until you've earned it.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity of torturous pleasure, you taste the first signs of his release. His cock twitches in your hand, pulsing as thick spurts of cum coat your tongue. You try to pull away, wanting to avoid the mess, but his grip tightens in your hair, yanking you back down.

"No, keep going," he commands, his voice strained but still commanding. "Take it all."

His command sends another wave of arousal through your body, and despite yourself, you comply. You continue to suck and lick, taking in every last drop of his cum while he watches, his eyes burning with a mix of satisfaction and possession.

When he finally pulls free, you gasp for air, your mouth slick with his seed. But before you can wipe your lips clean, he binds your wrists behind your back, then grabs a length of rope and begins tying a blindfold around your eyes.

"Let's see how well you do without being able to watch me," he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous. "And remember, every point you earn gets you closer to freedom."

Without warning, he plunges a digit inside you, feeling your walls clench around him instinctively. Hmm, looks like you're already quite ready for my cock, he muses, adding another finger to stretch you wider.

Ratio continues to explore your depths with his fingers, his movements deliberate and calculated. "As you can feel, your inner muscles are already contracting around me," he explains, his voice a low purr against your ear. "This is a natural response to stimulation, a sign of your body's readiness for penetration."

His fingers curl inward, rubbing against that sensitive spot deep within you. "The G-spot, as it's commonly known, is actually an area of concentrated nerve endings," he continues, his words a sensual counterpoint to the sensations he's evoking. "Stimulation here can lead to intense pleasure and even orgasm."

He adds a third finger, stretching you further as he applies gentle pressure to your clit. "Your body's reactions are telling me that you're highly responsive to these types of touches," he notes, his tone clinical yet infused with dark desire.

Ratio's fingers delve deeper, you can't help but cry out, your moans echoing in the room. "It's too much," you whimper, but the truth is far different. Your body craves more, hungers for the fullness only his cock can provide.

"You study so much," you breathe out between gasps, "but don't forget to enjoy the results." Even as you speak, your hips buck against his hand, seeking friction where you need it most.

His kiss is a claiming, his tongue dominating yours in a dance as old as time. It's a stark contrast to the scientific observations he's been making moments ago, but it fits perfectly with the primal urge coursing through your veins.

He breaks the kiss, his fingers stop their relentless assault, leaving you hanging on the edge of bliss. "Remember, this is just the warm-up,"

Ratio pauses his ministrations, letting you bask in the waves of pleasure that ripple through your body. He gives you a moment to catch your breath, his fingers trailing tantalizing patterns across your heated flesh.

"How do you feel?" he queries, his voice laced with a hint of concern. "Are you enjoying this? Or do you wish I'd hurry things along?" Despite his seemingly detached inquiry, his touch betrays his own growing excitement.

Before you can answer, he abruptly withdraws his fingers, leaving you empty and craving. "No," he says firmly, catching your hands in his and pinning them above your head. "I want to see how you handle the absence of sensation. How does that make you feel?"

Your mind reels from the sudden loss of stimulation, your body screaming for more even as you struggle to form coherent thoughts. "N-nothing," you stammer, your voice shaking. "It feels like nothing at all."

Ratio hums thoughtfully, his fingers trailing down your side to rest on your hip. "Interesting," he muses. "Your brain is processing the lack of sensation, interpreting it as a void rather than actual pain or discomfort. This suggests a high level of sexual tolerance and adaptability."

He leans in close, his hot breath tickling your ear as he whispers, "I think we can push you even further. Let's see how you react when I deny you both touch and sight." With that, he reaches for the blindfold, preparing to cover your eyes once more.

...................!!!!!!!! "It's..time to go on."

With a swift movement, Ratio removes the blindfold, revealing the world once more to your desperate eyes. But instead of touching you himself, he simply places his hand near your throbbing center, his fingers hovering just above your most sensitive spot.

"Cum for me," he commands, his voice firm and commanding. "Show me what I've done to you." His hand remains still, not providing the direct stimulation you crave, forcing you to rely on your own efforts to achieve release.

The tension coils tighter within you, your body begging for relief. But without his guidance, you're left to navigate the storm of emotions and sensations on your own.

With a sharp cry, you finally surrender to the mounting pleasure, your body convulsing as waves of climax crash over you. Your juices gush forth, soaking Ratio's hand and dripping onto the bed beneath you.

But the reprieve is fleeting. Before you can even catch your breath, he pushes you back onto the mattress, holding you down firmly. "That was just a preview," he declares, his voice a mix of satisfaction and anticipation. "Now, let's continue our little experiment."

He leans over you, his gaze locked onto yours as he teases open your folds with his fingers. Each slow, deliberate thrust sends another shockwave of pleasure through your system, reigniting the flames of desire that had barely begun to cool.

"Study and lesson," he reminds you, his tone dripping with carnal intent. "And remember, I'm in control."

Ratio's fingers continue their torturous dance, drawing out every last tremor of pleasure from your quivering body. But then, without warning, he replaces his fingers with the thick, rigid length of his cock. The sudden intrusion makes you gasp, your body stretching to accommodate his size.

He takes his time, savoring each inch as he slides deeper inside you. The stretch and burn are exquisite, pushing you to new heights of arousal. "Feel that?" he growls, pausing to give you a moment to adjust. "That's power. That's control."

With a steady pace, he begins to move, setting a rhythm designed to drive you mad with lust

Moans spill from your lips, raw and primal, as Ratio drives into you relentlessly. Each thrust sends a fresh wave of ecstasy crashing through your body, threatening to sweep you away in its intensity.

"Louder," he demands, his voice strained with effort. "Let me hear how much you love this." He punctuates his words with a particularly hard thrust, burying himself to the hilt inside you.

Your cries echo off the walls, mingling with the obscene sounds of flesh meeting flesh. The pleasure builds higher and higher, coiling tighter within you until you feel ready to burst.

The rubber duck he always keeps innocently floats past, and you had half a mind to reach out and turn its gaze away from the 'scene'.

"Focus on the sensation," Ratio instructs, his voice a husky whisper in your ear. "Notice every detail - the heat, the friction, the way my cock stretches you open."

As he speaks, he adjusts his angle, hitting a sweet spot deep within you that makes stars explode behind your eyelids. "This is crucial data," he continues, his thrusts becoming more erratic as his own pleasure mounts. "Understanding the nuances of pleasure will help me craft the perfect experience for you."

His words are a distant hum, lost in the sea of sensation that engulfs you. All you can do is cling to him, arching your back to meet his increasingly brutal thrusts.

Cries of pleasure and frustration tear from your throat as Ratio's relentless pounding drives you closer and closer to the edge. Each word he utters only serves to fan the flames of your desire.

"That's it," he praises, his grip on your hips tightening. "Endure it like a good little bitch you are." His words are a crude insult, but they only add to the eroticism of the situation.

The coil inside you snaps, releasing a torrent of orgasmic bliss that washes over you in powerful waves. Your inner walls clench around Ratio's cock, milking him for all he's worth.

The final tremors of your shared climax fade away, Ratio collapses onto you, his weight pressing you into the tub. He captures your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to claim you thoroughly.

"I want to feel you come undone one more time," he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough with satisfaction. Slowly, almost gently, he begins to move inside you once more, coaxing your oversensitive body towards yet another peak.

With a final, powerful surge, he buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsating as he spills his hot seed into your waiting womb. The sensation triggers another orgasm, your body trembling and convulsing around him as you milk him dry.

Your moans mingle with his grunts of exertion, creating a symphony of passion that fills the room. Together, you climb the slopes of ecstasy, racing towards the pinnacle of pleasure. And as you crest the final hill, tumbling into oblivion together, you know that this is only the beginning of your journey into the depths of depravity.

The aftermath of your intense and passionate encounter leaves you feeling both exhilarated and drained. You’re trying to shake off the lingering sensations and focus on the task at hand: cooking. Your legs still tremble slightly as you attempt to prepare a meal, the aftermath of Ratio’s teasing and touch making it difficult to concentrate.

Ratio stays close by, his presence a constant reminder of the events that just unfolded. He watches you with an amused smirk, his gaze flickering between you and the cooking. “You’re not doing it quite right,” he says, his voice carrying that familiar mix of criticism and amusement. “The way you’re handling the ingredients is all wrong.”

You huff, your frustration bubbling up. “Oh, really? Maybe if you hadn’t spent so much time teasing me, I wouldn’t be such a mess right now.”

Ratio raises an eyebrow, his smirk turning into a more intense expression of amusement. “Is that so? It’s not my fault if you’re unable to focus. Perhaps you need more practice.”

You shoot him a glare, but before you can say anything else, Ratio steps closer. His movements are quick and decisive, and before you fully realize what’s happening, he gently but firmly pushes you onto the table. The action catches you off guard, and you find yourself splayed out on the surface, the cool touch of the table against your skin contrasting with the warmth of the kitchen.

Ratio stands over you, his eyes glinting with a mix of dominance and satisfaction. “I think you need a different kind of lesson,” he says, his voice low and commanding. “One that doesn’t involve cooking.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and you struggle to regain your composure. “Ratio, what are you—”

He silences you with a finger on your lips, his touch light but authoritative. “Shh. Cooking can wait. Right now, you’re going to learn something more practical.”

His hands move with a deliberate calmness, as though he’s in complete control of the situation. He leans over you, his proximity making it hard to think clearly. His gaze is intense, his presence overwhelming.

“You were so eager to challenge me earlier,” he murmurs, his voice a deep, seductive whisper. “Now, let’s see if you can handle a different kind of lesson.”

His hands roam lightly over your body, his touch both firm and gentle. The contrast between the cool surface of the table and his warm, teasing touch creates a heightened sense of awareness, making every movement more intense.

“Tell me,” he says, his lips brushing against your ear, “how do you feel now? Do you understand the difference between the lessons I’ve given you and the ones you’re trying to master?”

You try to respond, but your voice comes out as a shaky whisper. “I… I get it. I’m sorry for complaining. I just—”

Ratio interrupts you with a soft, teasing kiss along your neck, his touch sending shivers through you. “You’re not just apologizing for the cooking, are you?” he asks, his tone playful yet commanding. “You’re acknowledging that there’s more to learn, more to experience.”

His hands continue their exploration, his touch both tender and possessive. You find yourself unable to resist the sensations he’s creating, the way his presence and touch make everything else fade into the background.

“Cooking will come later,” Ratio says, his voice a seductive whisper as he leans in even closer. “Right now, focus on what’s happening here, on what you’re feeling.”

[lxvsiick]

I KEEP THINKING OF YOU | HAN TAESAN X READER

PAIRING: best friend! han taesan x best friend! fem! reader

SUMMARY: Han Taesan keeps thinking about his best friend, Y/n.

GENRE: best friends, one-sided crush, imagine, short story

WORDCOUNT: 3.8k

A/N: this is an apology for THE STARS ARE ALL ASLEEP 🙇🏻‍♀️ i love writing stories/imagines related to songs -- the song for this story is an unreleased, self-composed song by none other than BOYNEXTDOOR's Han Taesan called I KEEP THINKING ABOUT YOU,, he's so talented ,, let me know if you want a pt 2 for this imagine or any of my imagines/short stories! ENJOY!

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡🪷˚♡

The bustling cafeteria was filled with the hum of voices, laughter, and the clatter of trays. Taesan sat at his usual table with his friends, but his mind was far from the conversation at hand. Instead, his gaze was fixed across the room on Y/n, who was laughing with her group of friends. She was always surrounded by people—always so effortlessly popular.

Four hours, he thought with a quiet smirk. She never lets me forget that she’s four hours older than me. It was a running joke between them since they’d known each other quite literally their entire lives. Their moms had been best friends long before they were born, so their friendship felt inevitable, woven into the fabric of their childhood.

But somewhere along the way—probably around age ten, when she had scared off those bullies who were picking on him—something had shifted for him. He’d started to see her differently. And now, in high school, that crush had only grown more intense, even though she was often playfully mean to him. The teasing? He pretended not to notice most of the time.

“Dude, are you even listening?” Jungwon snapped his fingers in front of Taesan's face, pulling him back to reality.

“Huh?” he blinked, tearing his gaze away from Y/n. His friends exchanged knowing glances.

“You’ve been staring at her this whole time,” Leehan teased, smirking. “You’re not exactly subtle, man.”

“I wasn’t staring,” Taesan mumbled, but his ears turned red, betraying him.

“Sure, you weren’t.” Jo leaned in with a grin. “You’re, like, obsessed with her. Why don’t you just ask her out already?”

“She’s my best friend,” he muttered defensively, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “It’s not like that.”

“Yeah, right.” Jungwon rolled his eyes. “You’ve been crushing on her since middle school. Everyone can see it but her.”

Taesan sighed, glancing back across the room at Y/n. She was telling some story to her friends, her usual energy drawing people in like a magnet. He felt a pang of annoyance—not at her, but at how popular she was. She never seemed to have time just for him anymore. There was always someone else around her, always something else going on.

“Ugh, she’s so... popular,” he grumbled, more to himself than to his friends. “Why does everyone like her so much?”

“Probably because she’s, you know... fun,” Leehan replied sarcastically. “Unlike a certain someone who spends lunch staring at her from a distance.”

“Shut up,” Taesan shot back, though there wasn’t much bite to it.

Before his friends could continue teasing him, the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Students began to gather their things, the cafeteria turning into a flurry of movement. Taesan stood up with a sigh, glancing one last time at Y/n as she waved goodbye to her friends.

“Let’s go, lover boy,” Jo said, slinging an arm around his shoulder as they headed toward the door. “You can pine over her later.”

As they walked out, Taesan couldn’t help but feel a familiar frustration creeping in. No matter how long they’d been best friends, no matter how close they were, there was a growing part of him that wanted more—something he wasn’t sure she’d ever want. And that thought gnawed at him as he followed his friends back to class.

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡🪷˚♡

The end-of-day bustle filled the school hallway as students rushed to leave, eager to escape the long day. Taesan and Y/n walked side by side, their footsteps falling into an easy rhythm. But while she was chatting casually about something he could barely register, his mind was far away, lost in thoughts about her—even though she was right there beside him.

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, taking in the way her hair fell over her shoulders and how effortlessly she smiled when she talked. He wasn’t really paying attention to what she was saying, though. All he could think about was how, after all these years, his feelings for her kept growing, even though he had no idea if she saw him the same way.

“Hey, you okay?��� Y/n nudged him gently, breaking him out of his daze. “You’re totally spacing out. What are you thinking about?”

He blinked, trying to come up with an excuse. “Uh... just, you know... school stuff.”

“School stuff?” She raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “You hate school stuff.”

“Yeah, well... maybe I’m trying to focus more,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

She laughed, and for a moment, he thought he had dodged the question. But just as they reached the doors to the outside, her attention was drawn to something—or rather, someone—else.

Standing by the steps was Lee Heeseung, the guy everyone liked. And by the way Y/n straightened up, her steps slowing slightly, it was obvious she was no exception.

“Oh... hey, Heeseung sunbae,” she greeted him, her voice shy, her usual confidence nowhere to be found. She gave a small wave, her cheeks pink.

Heeseung smirked in that effortlessly cool way he always did, giving her a nod and a flirty wave in return. “Hey, Y/n,” he drawled, his eyes lingering on her a little too long before he sauntered off.

Taesan watched the whole exchange, an unpleasant knot forming in his stomach. His jaw clenched. Of course, he thought bitterly, it’s him again.

As they resumed walking, he couldn’t help but let the words slip out. “What do you even see in that guy?”

Y/n glanced at him, surprised. “What?”

“I mean, I’ve heard rumors about him. People say he’s a player.” He tried to keep his voice casual, but the bitterness seeped through.

She frowned, her defenses instantly rising. “That’s none of your business. You don’t know him.”

“Neither do you,” he shot back, frustrated.

“Just let it go,” she said sharply, turning her face away from him.

Silence fell between them as they walked, the tension thick in the air. He shoved his hands in his pockets, staring at the ground, but his mind kept racing back to her. Why did she have to like him? What was so special about Lee Heeseung? The frustration bubbled inside him, but more than that, the longing grew deeper.

His thoughts were interrupted when Y/n spoke up again. “You’re spacing out again,” she pointed out, glancing at him suspiciously. “What’s going on with you today?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly, trying to snap out of it.

She gave him a sideways glance, clearly not convinced. “Are you thinking about a girl?”

He blinked, caught off guard by the question. “What? No!”

She smirked, her mood shifting. “Is it Wonyoung from Class C? I saw you talking to her last week. Come on, you can tell me,” she teased.

He looked at her like she’d just said something insane. “What? No, it’s not—why would I—”

“Whatever,” she muttered, cutting him off and rolling her eyes. She stormed ahead a few steps, grumbling under her breath.

He watched her walk away, his heart sinking as he slowed his pace behind her. She had no idea what was really going on in his head, no clue how he felt about her. As he stared at her retreating figure, that familiar ache filled his chest, the longing settling in as it always did.

If only she knew, he thought, but then again, maybe it was better that she didn’t.

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡🪷˚♡

Taesan sat at his desk, headphones on, staring blankly at his notebook while a slow, steady beat thumped in his ears. He wasn't really focusing on the music or the homework in front of him—his mind kept drifting to Y/n, as it always did.

Suddenly, the door to the classroom burst open, and a whirlwind of energy rushed in. Y/n, her eyes sparkling and her smile wide, headed straight for him, barely paying attention to anyone else.

He pulled off his headphones, startled. “Hey, what’s up?”

Her excitement was contagious, and before he could ask anything else, she leaned on his desk, practically bouncing on her feet. “You won’t believe what just happened!” she said, her voice high with glee.

“What?” He raised an eyebrow, both curious and concerned. Whenever she was this excited, it usually meant something big.

Taking a deep breath, she looked at him with a dreamy expression, her cheeks flushed. “Heeseung sunbae—he asked me out on a date!”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut.

For a moment, he was frozen. He didn’t say anything, couldn’t. His heart sank, and an unpleasant, heavy feeling settled in his chest. He tried to find something to say, anything, but nothing came out. All he could do was force a tight, bitter smile onto his face, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“That’s... that’s great,” he mumbled, trying to sound supportive, though the words tasted bitter.

She didn’t seem to notice his hesitation. “I mean, can you believe it? Heeseung sunbae actually asked me! It’s like something out of a movie!” She twirled a strand of her hair around her finger, clearly lost in the daydream of what her date might be like.

Taesan felt his stomach twist. Why him? Of all people, it had to be that guy—the one everyone liked, the one who didn’t even know how special she really was. The one who couldn’t possibly care about her the way he did.

He stared down at his notebook, trying to block out the envy and frustration rising inside him. But her words kept echoing in his head, over and over again.

“So... what are you gonna wear?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light, though every syllable hurt to say.

“Oh, I don’t know yet,” she gushed, lost in her thoughts. “But it’s gonna be perfect, I just know it.”

He nodded absentmindedly, his mind drifting far away from the conversation. Please let this date suck, he thought bitterly. Please let him be a total jerk.

But instead of voicing any of it, he just sat there, smiling that fake smile, while inside, he cursed the senior, the date, and everything else that kept pulling her away from him. Why does it have to be him? Why can’t it be me?

As she rambled on about her upcoming date, he sighed quietly to himself. He wanted to be happy for her—he really did—but the truth was, the only thing he could think about was how much he wished it was him she was excited about.

And with every word she said, the bitter feeling grew stronger.

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡🪷˚♡

The room was a whirlwind of clothes, shoes, and accessories scattered all over. Y/n darted from her closet to the bed, tossing different outfits across it, completely absorbed in her task. She held up a dress, then tossed it aside, muttering something about it being “too much,” before grabbing another option.

Taesan sat at the edge of her bed, watching her, though his mind wasn’t on the clothes she was throwing around. It was on her. Every time she ran back and forth, the same thoughts swirled in his head, thoughts he’d been trying to push away but couldn’t. She looks so happy about this stupid date. Why him?

He barely registered when she asked for his opinion on an outfit, just nodding absentmindedly, his eyes following her but his mind far away.

Y/n stopped in the middle of the room, a pair of earrings in one hand, staring at him with suspicion. She’d been talking to him, but it was clear now that he wasn’t paying attention. She dropped the earrings on the bed and slowly walked toward him.

He didn’t notice her coming until she crouched down right in front of him, meeting his eye level. “Hello?” she said, waving a hand in front of his face.

Startled, Taesan blinked and snapped out of his trance, his heart suddenly racing as he realized how close she was—way too close. Her nose was inches from his, her curious eyes searching his face, tilting her head like she was trying to figure him out.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” she teased, her voice soft, but there was something playful in her gaze that made his stomach flip.

He swallowed hard, feeling his pulse quicken as he tried to act normal. “N-Nothing,” he stammered, but his voice betrayed him.

She smirked, leaning in just a tiny bit closer. He could feel the warmth of her breath. “Are you sure? You’ve been spacing out a lot today.” Her eyes narrowed, and she raised an eyebrow. “What, are you thinking about some girl or something?”

His whole body stiffened, and before he could control his reaction, he jerked back in shock, nearly falling onto her bed. His heart pounded as his back hit the mattress, his ears burning with embarrassment. “W-What? No! I-I wasn’t—” he fumbled over his words, but it was too late. His ears had turned bright red, a telltale sign.

She stood up straight, crossing her arms and staring down at him, her smirk deepening. “Really? You’re blushing pretty hard for a guy who wasn’t thinking about anything.”

He quickly sat up, avoiding her gaze as he tried to regain his composure. “I wasn’t—seriously, it’s nothing,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

Y/n narrowed her eyes, her suspicion growing. “Hmm, I don’t believe you,” she said, poking his arm. “I think you’ve got a crush. Is it someone I know? Is it Wonyoung from class C?”

“No!” he said quickly, maybe a bit too quickly. His voice came out louder than he intended, and he cursed himself internally.

She tilted her head, clearly not buying his excuse. “Okay, fine, keep your little secret,” she said, rolling her eyes, though there was still that teasing smile on her lips. “But you’re acting weird.”

He sighed, trying to play it cool, but his heart was still pounding from how close she had been just a moment ago. As she turned back to her bed, picking up another dress to examine, he watched her with a mix of frustration and longing. She was completely unaware of the effect she had on him, oblivious to the way he felt.

And as much as he wanted to say something, he couldn’t. Not when she was so excited about her date with the senior.

With a heavy sigh, he lay back down on the bed, staring at the ceiling as she continued to prepare. If only she knew it’s her I’m thinking about...

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡🪷˚♡

The sound of video game gunfire echoed in the background as Taesan sat at his desk, hunched over his diary. His friends were scattered around his room—some sitting on the floor, others lounging on his bed—talking, laughing, and completely unaware of the turmoil brewing inside him. They were immersed in their game, but Taesan couldn’t care less.

His hand flew across the pages of his diary, the pen digging into the paper as he furiously scribbled down his thoughts, venting all the frustration that had been building up inside him since this morning. She’s going out with him. Of course she’s going out with him. Why wouldn’t she? He’s popular, good-looking, and probably says all the right things. Meanwhile, I’m just the best friend. 

The words flowed faster, his anger growing with every sentence he wrote. He didn’t want to feel this way, but he couldn’t stop. Every time he thought about Y/n smiling and laughing with Heeseung, it felt like someone had twisted a knife in his chest.

Finally, when there was nothing left to say—when he’d poured every bit of his anger and jealousy into the pages—he slammed the diary shut. The sharp thud cut through the noise of the game, drawing his friends' attention.

He turned around, ready to pretend like nothing was wrong, but his heart nearly stopped when he saw all three of his friends staring at him. Their mouths hung open, eyes wide with a mix of shock and amusement. One of them even had his controller dangling in his hands, forgotten in the moment.

“You guys...” Taesan groaned, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. “How long have you been watching?”

“Dude,” Jungwon said, raising an eyebrow. “We’ve been watching you angrily write in your diary for the last five minutes.”

Jo snorted, trying—and failing—to hold back laughter. “You looked like you were about to set that notebook on fire.”

Taesan felt his face flush even more, embarrassed at being caught in such a vulnerable moment. “I wasn’t—” he started, but his friends cut him off.

“Okay, okay,” Leehan said, sitting up from the floor. “Clearly, you’re not over her.”

“I never said I wasn’t over her,” Taesan mumbled, crossing his arms.

“Oh please,” Jungwon teased. “You’ve been spacing out for days now. And writing in your diary like you’re Shakespeare in love? Come on.”

The room filled with chuckles, but the teasing didn’t bother him. What did bother him was the fact that his friends were right. He wasn’t over her. Not even close.

“Look,” Leehan said, standing up and walking over to him. “You’ve got two choices, man. One: you confess to Y/n that you like her. Just get it out there. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Taesan winced at the thought. “She could stop talking to me.”

“Or...” Leehan continued, ignoring him, “Two: you get over her. Move on. We can help. First step, throw away all those pictures you took with her.”

Jo chimed in, grinning. “Yeah, you’ve got, like, a million photos of the two of you together, right? Gotta start somewhere.”

The room fell silent as everyone looked at Taesan, waiting for his response. He stared at them, feeling the weight of their suggestions sink in.

Confess? The thought terrified him. What if it ruined everything? What if she never looked at him the same way again?

Get over her? The idea of moving on felt impossible. Every memory they shared, every laugh, every inside joke—they were all too precious to let go of. Even if it hurt, he couldn’t imagine his life without her in it.

“No,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “I’m... I’m okay with things the way they are.”

His friends exchanged confused looks. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he continued, “I don’t need to confess. As long as she’s by my side, I’m fine. I’ll deal with it. Even if we’re just friends... that’s enough for me.”

The room went quiet. His friends stared at him, clearly not convinced. But Taesan forced a smile, even though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Come on, man,” Jungwon said softly. “You don’t actually believe that, do you?”

He swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice steady. “I do. I don’t like it... but I’ll deal with it. I can’t risk losing her.”

Leehan sighed, giving him a sympathetic look. “You’re tougher than I thought, dude. But... don’t torture yourself. You deserve to be happy too, you know?”

“Yeah,” Jo added. “And if she can’t see how awesome you are, that’s her loss.”

Taesan nodded but didn’t say anything. The truth was, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that being “just friends” was enough, deep down he knew it wasn’t. But for now, he’d keep pretending. Pretending that he was okay with being just the best friend, even if it broke his heart a little more every day.

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡🪷˚♡

The sun had just begun to rise, casting a golden glow on the quiet neighborhood as Taesan and Y/n met outside their houses, ready to walk to school together like they had a thousand times before. The cool morning air hung between them, and the familiar rhythm of their footsteps echoed as they walked side by side, their conversation casual but comfortable.

But Taesan was dying to ask about one thing. He cast a sideways glance at Y/n, watching her as she focused ahead, her arms swinging slightly with each step.

“So,” he began, keeping his voice as nonchalant as possible, “how did your date with Heeseung go?”

Y/n immediately let out a scoff, crossing her arms over her chest. “Don’t even get me started.”

Curiosity piqued, Taesan raised an eyebrow. “That bad, huh?”

“Worse than bad.” She rolled her eyes, clearly still annoyed by the memory. “The guy spent the entire date talking about his Australian friend and how they’re ‘ramen brothers.’ Like, who even cares about that?”

Taesan stifled a laugh, biting the inside of his cheek. He tried to play it cool, but inside, he was practically doing backflips. She didn’t like the date. She’s not interested in him anymore.

“Oh wow,” he said, feigning sympathy. “Sounds like a real... charmer.”

“Yeah, well, I’m over it,” she grumbled, kicking a pebble down the sidewalk. “He’s not who I thought he was. I’m definitely not interested anymore.”

Yes! Taesan cheered inwardly, though he kept his expression neutral. “I guess some people aren’t what they seem,” he said, trying not to sound too happy.

As they neared the school gates, the morning crowd of students bustled around them, heading into the building. Just as they were about to step through, a familiar voice called out to Taesan.

“Good morning, Dongmin!” It was Wonyoung from Class C, her smile bright as she greeted him.

Taesan gave a polite nod and returned the greeting. “Morning.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Y/n watching the exchange with a raised eyebrow and an unmistakable smirk tugging at her lips. He rolled his eyes dramatically, already knowing what she was thinking.

“Whatever you’re imagining right now is wrong,” he said, giving her a pointed look.

“Mhm, sure it is,” she teased, nudging him with her elbow.

Ignoring her playful jab, Taesan grabbed her wrist and gently pulled her through the crowd, heading toward their classroom. As they walked, he glanced at her, noticing how she was unusually quiet after the interaction.

Y/n tried to push the weird feeling away, but she couldn’t stop the small knot forming in her stomach. She wasn’t sure why, but seeing Taesan so easily talk to Wonyoung made something stir inside her—something unfamiliar. It wasn’t like she cared who he talked to, but...

Was it jealousy?The thought caught her off guard. She shook her head slightly, trying to brush it off. No way. There’s no reason to be jealous. But even as she told herself that, the feeling lingered, gnawing at the back of her mind as they made their way to class.

𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡🪷˚♡

MASTERLIST

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, lxvsiick, 2024

[steddieas-shegoes]

hidden lace

for @steddiesmuttyseptember prompts 'sneaking around' and 'lingerie'

rated e | 18+, minors dni or i will tell your mother | 2852 words | check ao3 for all tags

💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

Steve is pissed at Eddie.

Like, genuinely pissed.

Not that cute, haha my boyfriend was being annoying but I love him, pissed.

The kind where if he saw him right now, he’d do something really stupid, like yell or break up with him.

And he knew he didn’t actually want to do that.

But see, Steve had been given incorrect information about what they would be doing tonight. He’d been told they’d be having dinner alone and then going to the quarry alone and probably going back to Steve’s house alone.

When they showed up at the diner to a table full of Eddie’s bandmates, Steve’s teeth gritted together to hold back saying something much more rude than he intended.

It was fine, though, because Steve did actually like hanging out with the guys despite their rough start. They were some of the few people who knew about Steve and Eddie’s relationship, so they didn’t feel like they had to hide anything.

Well, Steve did tonight.

He was wearing his usual clothes, of course, but underneath, he was wearing a lingerie set. Something Eddie had been begging him to wear for months now, something Steve had tried on at least 20 times before only to hurry out of them because it felt too good. He figured with how much they’d be alone tonight, he could get used to the feeling of the lace against his skin at dinner and then surprise Eddie with it when they got to the quarry.

It’s all he’s thought about since Eddie picked him up.

He’s certain it’s written all over his face throughout dinner. Gareth keeps shooting him these looks like he knows Steve’s hiding something, and Jeff has asked him if he’s okay at least three times since they sat down. Frankie doesn’t say anything, but he does hand Steve a joint when no one else is looking and tells him to relax a little.

If Steve was smart, he probably would have snuck a few hits from it before Eddie got in the van.

“That was fun,” Eddie said as Steve contemplated trying to run back inside to the bathroom so he could strip the lace off and shove it into his pockets.

“Uh huh.”

“Sorry I didn’t tell you they’d be joining us, sweetheart.”

Steve gives him a half-hearted smile. “That’s okay. Um, are we seeing anyone else tonight?”

“Oh! There’s a bunch of people hanging at the quarry. I think even Robin’s gonna be there.”

Steve nods a little too enthusiastically to be convincing. “Cool. Sounds good.”

Eddie’s eyes are on him, intense. “You don’t sound happy about it. Thought you’d be a little more excited about hanging with Robin. You just told me yesterday you haven’t gotten to spend time with her outside of work for weeks.”

“No, you’re right,” Steve sighs. “I just wasn’t expecting to be…social.”

“We planned a date?” Eddie sounds genuinely confused, as if he doesn’t know the difference between hanging out one on one and in groups.

“Yeah, I just.” Steve sighs again. “It’s fine. Let’s go hang out with people.”

Eddie looks like he wants to push and understand why Steve is suddenly so worried about being around people, but Steve leans in to kiss him quickly, just a soft peck on the lips. He smiles and Eddie smiles back.

Instant distraction.

Eddie has admitted before that Steve has a way of making him go completely dumb. Some would call it dick brain, but it’s not even that he gets hard about it. He just feels like all thoughts have left the building.

Like Elvis, man,, he’d said when Robin asked what his deal was after Steve had kissed him goodbye at work.

As Eddie drives them to the quarry, Steve shifts in his seat. He’s not uncomfortable, but he definitely worries that he will be when all eyes are on him. Maybe they won’t know that he’s nearly bursting out of blush pink panties and a matching bralette that rubs against his nipples in a way that feels like Eddie’s teeth when they’re teasing him. But maybe they will.

But are his nerves because he’s worried people will know?

He can feel his dick hardening against the damp lace.

No, he doesn’t think he’s all that worried about people seeing him in lingerie.

Eddie’s door slamming is the only thing that alerts him to their arrival. He blinks and opens his door so he can hop out, but he’s immediately frozen when he feels the head of his dick rubbing against his jeans.

So maybe next time he can buy a size up. Or find some made for men. Do they make them for men?

“Stevie?” Eddie’s voice is against his ear, sending chills down his spine as his hand ghosts between his shirt and waistband. “You sure you don’t wanna go home?”

“I’m sure,” Steve shivers.

“We won’t stay for long,” he promises.

Steve just nods.

He does what he’s supposed to at these things: makes smalltalk with people he doesn’t know that well, hangs around Eddie and Robin as much as possible, smiles and laughs when appropriate.

But his brain is gone.

Well, it’s there, but it’s made of lace and the sweat beading at his brow despite the fall chill.

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been here, but he thinks he’s gonna have to go soon.

Eddie’s fingers grasp his forearm.

“Steve.”

Steve looks at him.

Eddie knows.

His face is flush and his pupils are huge, looks like he would bite a bruise into Steve’s neck right now, in front of all these people.

“Van. Now.”

The van is surrounded by cars. Empty cars, but still cars that belong to people.

Steve should probably just explain what’s going on, and then maybe they could just go back to Steve’s house and never bring this up ever again.

But he doesn’t. He knows they’re about to fuck in Eddie’s van, and he knows everyone at this gathering is busy, and he thinks maybe this will be the night that someone finds out exactly what Steve and Eddie are to each other.

Eddie doesn’t let go of his arm as they walk, which puts them both at a strange angle. No one seems to notice, but Steve’s not sure he’d be aware of anyone looking their way at this point. His brain is fuzzy, and all he can think about is Eddie stripping him down to the lace barely covering him in the back of his van.

No one is near the cars when Eddie opens the backdoor of his van and gently nudges Steve inside. No one is there to see the way Eddie watches him fall face first on the blanket he keeps laid out, barely holding back a groan at the way Steve’s ass is up in the air, taunting him even while fully clothed. No one except Steve feels his heartbeat racing as Eddie closes the door and grips his calf.

“You’ve been on edge all night. I was starting to worry you were sick or I’d pissed you off, but it’s not either of those things, is it?” Eddie leans over Steve’s back, bracketing him in until he has no choice but to fall flat against the blanket. “You wanna be fucked.”

Steve whines.

“But why? You knew we’d go to your house later. You knew I’d take care of you. So why are you acting like this?” Eddie continues, breath hot against Steve’s neck.

His hand ghosts under Steve’s shirt, fingers trailing against his skin and leaving goosebumps along the way.

Steve’s breath catches when he feels Eddie’s touch pause against the line of lace across his back.

“Stevie. What’s this?” Eddie sounds much calmer than he probably is.

“It’s a…bra. It’s a bra.”

Eddie’s forehead falls to Steve’s shoulder blade, and he lets out a huff. It may be a laugh or it may be a sigh, or it may be anything else.

“I don’t know what the hell I did to deserve you, sweetheart.”

His lips are soft against Steve’s neck.

Steve melts further into the blanket, but can’t completely relax until Eddie’s seen– or felt– everything.

“Um, there’s more,” he says as he starts to turn over so he can face Eddie. “And it might be a little weird and it might not even look good anymore because I’ve been hard for most of the night, but-”

Eddie silences him with a kiss to his lips, the taste of the last cigarette he smoked still on his tongue.

He keeps kissing him, even when Steve moans and bucks his hips up, seeking friction that’s easily found. His hand traces the waistband of Steve’s jeans, a fingertip dipping just past the denim to find what Steve’s been hiding.

“Oh.”

Steve smiles nervously. He knows Eddie would never make him feel bad, even if he didn’t happen to like the lingerie, but he’s still nervous. He still wants Eddie to like it, to like the way he fills them out, to like him.

“Can I see?” Eddie asks, eyes wide with awe and cheeks blushing the same pink as Steve’s panties.

Steve nods because he doesn’t think he’ll sound confident if he says anything out loud.

Eddie slides his pants off quickly, but his hands are gentle, almost reverent in the way they glide across Steve’s thighs.

He doesn’t say anything, just gestures for Steve to sit up so he can pull off his shirt.

When Steve’s been stripped down to only pink lace, he’s warm and anxious.

Eddie’s eyes don’t know where to go, zipping from his nipples barely visible through the thick floral pattern covering them down to the see-through wetness of his cock leaking through the thin material. Steve waits for him to say something, can’t interrupt whatever thoughts he’s having right now.

“You look beautiful, Stevie.”

It settles something in him, some last nerves that he knew wouldn’t go away without Eddie’s confirmation that this wasn’t a waste of time or money.

“I do?”

Eddie’s palm cups his cock through the panties. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. When did you get these?”

Steve shrugs because he doesn’t really remember anymore, and even if he did, it’s not important. What matters is that Eddie fucks him while he wears them, and that he goes to buy more on his next trip into the city.

It’s softer than Steve expected.

Eddie’s taking it slow, touching him everywhere, letting his fingers trace the patterns of the lace and smiling when Steve shivers under his attention. He seems mesmerized and Steve feels adored, loved.

Usually, Steve prefers feeling Eddie’s skin against his, but the way his clothed cock brushes against the lace panties, and the way his chest rubs against the bra, it’s a constant reminder that Steve did this to feel nice and for Eddie to look at him.

“Fuck me,” Steve whispers against his lips when he feels his stomach tighten. “Please fuck me.”

“Here? You sure you don’t want me to just suck you off?”

Steve thinks about the people crowded near the coolers and picnic tables not too far away.

“Yeah, here. I need you.”

He knows Eddie can’t resist that.

Now, Eddie’s quick, but no less gentle, as he opens Steve up on his fingers. The lube he keeps in the van is finally getting some use.

Steve arches into it, sighing out the pleasure Eddie gives, keeping as quiet as possible in case someone decides to come back to their car before they finish.

He’s got panties pushed to the side, his precum dribbling onto his stomach, and Eddie’s raspy voice in his ear telling him everything he’s gonna do to him when they’re home. Steve can get off with just this, has gotten off to this before.

“You ready?” Eddie finally asks him, pulling his fingers out so he can wipe them off and get his own pants pulled down.

“Been ready. Could’ve fucked me ten minutes ago,” Steve replies with a smirk.

His head is fuzzy, but the knowledge that they could be caught keeps him present, keeps him aware of everything happening in a way he knows he wouldn’t be if they were in the privacy of his room.

“I don’t like your tone,” Eddie jokes as he lines himself up, pushing the lace further out of the way. “I don’t wanna hurt you. You’re too soft for that tonight.”

“Someone’s feeling sappy,” Steve gasps as Eddie enters him slowly. He lifts his head to watch as Eddie bottoms out, his cock rubbing against the side of the panties. “Fuck.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do.” Eddie groans. “You feel so good. You look so good. I wanna eat you out when we get home.”

Steve nods as his hands grip the blankets. “Yeah. I have a-” Steve whines as Eddie shifts slightly, changing the angle so he brushes against Steve’s prostate. “I have a plug.”

“How the hell did you sneak that in here?”

“Yesterday when you were in the shower,” Steve laughs breathlessly. “Fuck, Eds. So good.”

Eddie is focused now, on not coming or coming, Steve can’t be sure.

“God, you have to wear these all the time,” Eddie groans as his hand creeps up to his chest, thumb rubbing against one of Steve’s nipples. “I want you in every color. Wanna see you in red, and blue, and black, and fuckin’-- what other colors are there?”

Steve giggles. “Purple…yellow…fuck.”

Steve’s gonna come and Eddie’s gonna follow right behind him, he can tell. Eddie’s thrusts are erratic but accurate, always hitting the spot that makes black spots appear in the corner of Steve’s vision and his limbs tingle with warmth and sunshine.

“You’re so good to me, fuck, Stevie. I love you,” Eddie squeezes his thigh as he parts his legs further. “You’re mine.”

“Yours. Yours,” Steve’s head falls back as he shakes through one of the most intense orgasms he’s ever had. He can’t catch his breath, and he feels overstimulated within seconds. “Eddie, need you.”

Eddie always gives him what he needs.

They’re both coming down still when someone bangs on the back door of the van. Steve sits up so quickly, he almost breaks Eddie’s nose.

“Yeah!” Steve yells, pushing Eddie off of him, barely containing a whimper when his cock is no longer filling him.

“If you two wanna get dressed before people start heading to their cars, now would be a good time!” Robin whisper-yells against the door.

“Got it!” Steve yells back, already trying to slide his pants back on despite the mess on his stomach and dripping from his hole.

Eddie places his hands on Steve’s, making him pause for a moment.

“Did you do this for me or for you?” He asks, suddenly shy.

Steve couldn’t help feeling a little proud of the fact that he was maybe the only person Eddie Munson ever got shy around.

“I did it for both of us. And I promise I’ll do it again if you let me get dressed so we don’t get caught.”

Eddie beams at him, kisses his cheek, and starts to pull his own pants back up, wincing when his boxers cling to his sensitive and wet dick.

“We’ve gotta plan better for these things,” he complains.

“I planned just fine.”

“The plug!” Eddie’s eyes widen in panic. “Where is it?”

“We don’t have time,” Steve groans, but he looks over his shoulder at the bag he keeps behind the passenger seat. It’s mostly full of snacks and Tylenol, sometimes a change of clothes if he knows he’s staying with Eddie. Last night he managed to get a plug in there. “Okay! Okay, fine. Just, go start the car.”

Eddie claps his hands together excitedly and grins. “As you wish, my liege.”

Steve rolls his eyes fondly. He reaches down to ease the plug in, biting back a whimper at the soreness he feels. They weren’t even rough tonight, couldn’t be, yet Steve feels like they just went for three rounds.

“If it hurts, don’t do it, sweetheart,” Eddie says from the driver’s seat.

“No, it’s good. I’m good,” he says as he pulls his pants up and slips his shirt on.

Eddie glances over his shoulder and frowns.

“Why the face?” Steve asks.

“I can’t see the lace.”

“Eddie…”

“I know! But I’m speeding on the way home.”

Steve slides into the passenger seat and looks out the window to make sure no one is directly next to them. When he doesn’t see anyone except Robin walking back towards the party, he leans over to kiss Eddie’s cheek.

“Thank you for letting me try something new.”

Eddie blinks over at him. “Thank me? Thank you. Holy shit, Steve. You’ve never been hotter than you are right now.”

“Okay, okay. Drive us home so I can ride you.”

“Fuck. Okay.” Eddie puts both hands on the steering wheel. “Focus, Eddie.”

“You’re such a dork,” Steve laughs.

“I’m living my dream right now.”

Steve can’t agree more.