borlewifefr

[borlewifefr]

something i believe to be cannon:

Jake: Can you calm down? You're throwing a...

Bradley: Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm throwing a hissy fit, spare it.

Jake: ... A tantrum. You're throwing a tantrum. I'm not that Texan, goddamit.

[borlewifefr]

HES SO SWEET ICANT

would you be in the mood to write something for peter parker x reader?? it’s been a while since i’ve read anything new for him and i’m missing my boy :( maybe something about things getting heated while making out with peter but he knows reader isn’t ready to go any farther so he has to stop them, and then maybe reader feels guilty for not being ready bc they feel like they’re stringing him along? a good mix of (semi)smut & fluff & angst haha. thank u angel i love u <3

ty for requesting, love u <3 fem!reader, 1k

cw suggestive content

“Is that okay?” he whispers. 

You’re nearly too busy trying to kiss him to whisper back. “Yeah, Peter, just–” Fully too busy. 

Peter enjoys being on top of you for two reasons; the first, the most imperative in the moment, is because it flicks a switch in your mind that has you all flustered and breathless under his touch, your chest heaving something sorry and your hands a frenetic back-and-forth between roaming and limp on his back; and the second, his guilty pleasure, is that he’s in an optimal position to slide his knee between your thighs and listen for your breathless sigh. 

He says your name between kisses to catch your attention, finds he can’t quite get it as your mouth closes up on his and your spit wets his lips. Your hand wanders under his shirt. 

Peter has been worse than shirtless around you, a consequence of his strange after-classes hobby, but he’s not so sure you’re ready to peel him out of it. Your fingers ride up his spine. 

He fishes your hand from behind him to hold it above your head. 

“Hey,” he says, pulling back, your eyes lit and aligned with one another, the brightest light in the room. It feels wrong to speak into the dark like this, disrupting your whispers and your quick breathing. “You don’t wanna do that.” 

“I do,” you say. He’s no genius, but he sees the wobble of your lashes for what it is, sudden regret. 

“It’s okay, bub. We got too heavy too fast,” he laughs. 

You bite the inside of your lip as he sits up. It’s his fault, he shouldn’t have kissed you like that, definitely shouldn’t have let his leg slide up against you, what was he thinking? He’s kissed you so hard your lips are swollen. 

You use the flats of your palms to clamber up against the headboard. Your heart is a thudding he can’t ignore, triply loud, and his own pulse is rocketing too. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. 

“No, that’s okay,” —he reaches for the hem of your sweatpants to tug them back over your hip and stomach— “I was bearing down on you, I shouldn’t have– I–” Peter Parker levels of stuttering occur, to which he can’t subject himself, hiding his face in his hands. 

There’s a small silence. Peter attempts to calm down. Your heart rate slowly drops. 

“I really am sorry, Pete.” 

His neck cricks as he lifts his head. “What?” He lets his legs fall to the side of the bed and shuffles up to the top to see you clearly, squishing the back of your thigh where your legs are up to his hip. “Come on, what do you have to be sorry for?” 

“I’m leading you on and stuff. Not cool.” 

“What? What are you talking about? I started it.” 

“I was giving it just as good as I was getting it,” you say with a regretful smile. “You’re just such a great kisser–”

“Don’t try and distract me, it’s working,” he teases. More seriously, he puts his hand on your knee, thumb pressing to the soft crease underneath it. 

“I shouldn’t kiss you like that if I’m not ready for it.” 

“Why not? You can kiss me whatever way you like, it doesn’t have to lead to anything.” 

“I’m winding you up. Boys don’t like that.” 

“I love it,” he says, dropping his chin to his hand to speak to you from just below your eye line. “I love everything you do, I love kissing you, it doesn’t mean you have to be ready for something else.” 

You don’t accept his reassurances as quickly as he’d like, leaning back, the rising valley of your chest and tummy two pretty not to look at even as something serious transpires. He adores you, your every hill and curve and rigid line, all of it, and he’d love to fuck you but there’s no rush. What do you need to rush for? Peter’s sure it’ll be just as much fun a few months down the line as it would’ve been tonight, but it’ll be perfect then, because you’ll be ready then. 

“Who cares what boys like anyways?” he mumbles, kissing your kneecap appreciatively. 

“I just don’t wanna mess it up, Pete. I really like you.” 

“You can’t mess it up, it’s not like that, we’re not like that. You mean a whole lot more to me than that,” he says, giving your thigh a squeeze. You meet his eyes with less shyness now, the beginnings of a smile like twitches at the corners of your mouth. “I like you more than you like me, anyways. You can string me along. String me up, if you want.” 

“String you up where?” you ask with a laugh. 

“From that statue on ESU?” 

“What? How would I do that?” 

“Get Spider-Man to help you.” 

You pull the leg he isn’t leaning on up toward your stomach, knee rubbing along the inside of your opposite thigh, the last trace of regret. “You’re sure you don’t care?” 

“Don’t care, don’t mind, just want you to be happy.” He kisses your knee. “I thought you’d know that by now.” 

You brace your face in both hands, letting out a long sigh. “I don’t know what I know when you do that thing to me. How about you keep your legs away from my legs for a little while?” 

Peter smiles like an idiot, hiding his eyes in your knee and his mouth behind your calf. He doesn’t mind being honest, but you’re making him nervous flirting like that and he isn’t allowed to kiss you again tonight. “I– I can do that. No leg stuff.” He leans away from you suddenly. “God, no leg stuff. You’re beautiful, I wish you didn’t worry about me.” 

“I’ll try not to, Pete.”  

[borlewifefr]

omg has anyone ever asked how frat and/or nerdy peter would react to pheromone perfume 👁

frat!peter::

peter: you smell so fucking good, is it new?

trouble: maybe...

peter: what is it? seriously, i wanna keep sniffing you until i lose all my air.

trouble: nothing special

peter: nothing special?

peter: if it's nothing special why is my dick getting hard?

nerdy!peter::

peter: what is that?

r: what's what?

peter: that smell, what is it?

r: i don't know.

peter: no, it's you. what is it? what are you wearing?

r: some new perfume. do you like it?

peter: i don't know, come here.

r: does it smell bad?

peter: no... it just... sit in my lap?

r: you're tickling me.

peter: sorry, it's just... like... i don't get it.

r: you don't like it?

peter: no, no, no. i like it, i... i love it, actually. but it doesn't have a smell.

r: it doesn't?

peter: no, it does, but it's like... just you. it's you dialed to a thousand and i can almost taste it.

r: is that a bad thing?

peter: it's so good it's about to be bad for you.

[borlewifefr]

ugh dad

i Need him

[borlewifefr]

[borlewifefr]

i love it when people trap the warden in minecraft by making a moving piston that makes noise so the warden just quietly stares at it. ipad baby

[borlewifefr]

literally my favorite type of tweet

[borlewifefr]

Reblog for a larger sample size!

No "show results", if you're not a fanfic writer just be patient.

I saw a post about an anon saying it was embarrasing to have an ao3 account in your 30s (it's absolutely not), so I want to do a poll and see what the age range actually is.

[borlewifefr]

#When You Find Out Your Faves Have Kissed For The First Time

[borlewifefr]

thinking about the small ways the pjo boys instinctively show their love for you..

the way percy jackson's sword fighting naturally slows to a hesitant crawl whenever he's sparring with you. his once swift and fluid motions seem to falter, as if he's unsure of how much force to use. his sword moves in hesitant, awkward jabs, accompanied by a small, sheepish smile that seems to say, "i don't want to hurt you, but i also don't want to lose."

the way jason grace covers the sharp corner of the table when you reach under to get something, ensuring that your head wouldn't accidentally collide with the unforgiving edge. you feel the warmth of his hand hovering just inches above your head, and the faint smile on his lips reveals his satisfaction in keeping you safe. he's a protector, that one.

the way leo valdez taps three times on the dinner table whenever he wants to catch your attention. perhaps it's his way of saying, 'i'm thinking of you.' or, i can't wait to see you after this.' you're never quite certain of the exact meaning, but regardless, you often find yourself twirling your daggers three times before going into battle, a sweet tribute to leo.

the way luke castellan's lip twitches ever so slightly every time you enter into the room. it's a subtle movement, almost imperceptible, but you're certain it's there by the way he catches your eye, and tilts his head to the door, a silent invitation for you to join him.

[borlewifefr]

reblog if u a communist

[borlewifefr]

is trouble ever frat!peter’s lock screen? Either before or after the whole situationship thing or secretly during both eras? If so, what picture?

yes! relationship!peter does it proudly, situationship!peter is a bit more stealth. iphones have a wallpaper feature where if you hold the screen down you can swap between photos and i imagine that’s how it is.

peter went home for a week and really missed you and went through his photos and he saw that picture he snapped of you at a party. the background is blurred, proof that the liquor was flowing heavily. you’ve got a smile that shows off almost every tooth and a vice grip on a liter of rum. he doesn’t know why, but he made it his wallpaper for the week and would pick up his phone every five minutes just to look at it.

relationship!peter has a picture of the both of you. something he looks at and is reminded of what he has and how much he truly loves you. it was from a double date night you both had a few months into being official, your friend pressured peter for the photo, he rolled his eyes and gave in. he’s glad he did. it’s his favorite.

you’re wrapped around him in a side hug, peters got a grip on your shoulder. he’s laughing at something your friends date said, he’s wearing the grin you tell him you love. but the reason he has such adornment for the photo is because of the way you’re looking at him.

your eyes are bright and shining, your smile matches his, not because you found anything funny, but because peter’s joy was contagious for you. each time he looks at it he feels warmth radiate, a visual reminder of how much you love him.

—

(you know i had to add a bonus of trouble finding peter’s wallpaper!! -situationship!peter obv)

‘just sit here and look pretty, i’ll be thirty minutes tops.’

peter had pulled you away from date night with the promise of stopping at his chapter meeting. he had negotiated the first hour, trent, the chapter president, wouldn’t break on the last thirty minutes and demanded peter be there. or else.

you wouldn’t mind but peter didn’t tell you until last minute and now you’re sitting down at an empty table at the library while they fill up a rented room across from you.

‘it’ll be longer than that and you know it.’

‘you’ll be fine. give me a kiss.’ you meet him with one, you grumble down at your phone. ‘my phones about to die, what am i supposed to do?’

peter feigns shock, ‘oh no!’ he looks around, ‘i hope you’ll find something to do in this big, empty library. it might be hard.’

your eyes narrow, you hate his sarcasm. ‘the library doesn’t have instagram reels, peter. how am i supposed to entertain myself while you’re talking numbers and business?’

there’s a miniature battle of silence, you win when peter groans and hands over his phone from his back pocket. ‘here. use mine.’ you reach forward, peter’s giving you unbridled access to his phone, you’d be dumb to say no.

‘nuh uh. you promise me right now you won’t fuck up my algorithm, i spent months perfecting it.’ you make grabby hands, ‘promise.’

the sleek, black screen is in your hold in seconds. your thumbs fly over the screen, you’re in and on instagram in a second. peter looks back once more, ‘thirty minutes.’ you nod, the first video already playing, you wish you could send it to peter. you send it to yourself to send back to him when you’re at a full charge.

ten minutes and you need a refresher, wandering around towards the bathroom you grab a water from a vending machine. cracking the cap, your left thumb pressed into peter’s home screen and his wallpaper separated, another photo right next to it.

you can recognize the edge, you swipe and feel your heart melt into a puddle. it’s you and only you. smiling and posing just for peter. he snapped the pic and saved it, he even went one step further and put it as his screensaver. a backup one, but something tells you he doesn’t want you knowing it exists.

you can keep a secret.

you can’t stop smiling at his phone and the short videos playing aren’t even that funny. you perk at a kiss on the top of your head. ‘told you i’d only be thirty minutes… what? why are you looking at me like that?’

‘no reason. it was very nice of you to offer me your phone, thank you.’

another kiss, you can’t wait til you get him alone. you might be the only one in on the secret, but he was going to be treated very nicely for it.

‘no problem, trouble. what’s mine is yours.’ your heart thumps louder. ‘and now,’ peter gently pulls you up with him, you’re along for the ride.

‘i owe you dessert, let’s go.’ you don’t walk with him, you stay until his hand tugs yours, peter looks back at you confused. ‘i wanna have dessert at yours.’

peter pouts, ‘tarrent polished off the ice cream.’

‘i know.’ peter knows that tone, now he’s standing straighter and acting casually. ‘oh? alright, yeah, let’s go home.’

[borlewifefr]

cherry buys the cherry lube (best kind) as her last step to convince peter to fuck her and he just sighs JDBDDN

she’s just a girl😔 he needs to give her what she wants! in the name of feminism

an: nsfw content!

sitting crisscrossed in peter’s bed, you reach over the side to grab a small bag from your backpack. the thin plastic had three red thank you’s printed across it. you raise it over your head and give it a shimmy.

‘guess what i got?’

‘a lamborghini.’

‘so close! okay, you know that sex shop off that exit with the chinese place?’

‘no.’

‘oh. i’ll have to take you-’

‘no thanks.’

‘- but i went there and i found something. something i think you’d like and something you think we’d need.’

‘i’m scared.’

‘i’m not!’ you shake out the bag, a palm sized bottle of lube falls, it lands on your lap and you quickly present it to peter with a proud smile.

‘lube?’ you shove it out into his hands, ‘look at the flavor!’ peter squints at the bottle, then scoffs. ‘really? cherry?’

‘oh c’mon, it’s perfect!’ you start listing off why, ‘you call me cherry, you’re taking my cherry, and it’s cherry lube, to do said previous thing.’

you’re waiting for his excitement, you reach forward to push at his cheeks, forcing a smile. ‘what? you don’t find it funny? i thought i’d at least get a chuckle from you.’

peter watches as you tear the plastic around the cap with your teeth. ‘do you think it actually tastes like cherry?’ you stick out your tongue and put a small drop on it, you hold it out to peter and wave your hand along.

he’s got hesitant eyes when his own darts out, you give him the same amount. your face sours at the taste, peter has a poker face. ‘ew.’ it sticks around, you wipe your tongue off with your shirt.

'that was gross- unless you like it, i assume you'd be doing most of the tasting.' peter tosses the bottle into a trashcan you didn't know he had. 'is that new?' peter shakes his head, you tilt yours and try to place it. 'weird. never noticed it before. also, you owe me four dollars.'

'why do i have to pay you back?'

'you threw it away.'

'it was inedible.'

'false. i could've used it by myself.'

'go dig it out then.'

'i deserve more than trash lube, peter.'

'consider it a favor, you shouldn't be using scentsy stuff down below. i've heard they don't like it.'

you squint at him, 'what's it for then?' peter looks down at his crotch, 'blowjobs.' you drop your mouth a little, that hadn't occurred to you. 'oh, i see.' you have a moment where things click into place. 'so that would also explain flavored condoms.'

'please tell me you didn't get flavored condoms.'

'of course not.'

peter relaxes, you prefer him on edge.

'i don't know what size you wear. is it a one size fits all thing cause i've seen those videos where people hang them out the car window and they turn into balloons.'

'think of it as a pair of leggings. could you fit into a pair three sizes too small? sure can. is it comfortable? absolutely not.'

‘and ones that are too big just fall off? that explains a lot, actually.’

‘personally, i’d be more mortified if a condom came off because it was too big versus just admitting i need a smaller size.’

your eye twinkles, ‘and what size are you?’

‘you buy the tampons, i buy the condoms. deal?’ you can't lie, learning male anatomy has been your favorite part in all of this.

peter lays back with his hands behind his head, you straddle his lap and he's watching with close eyes. 'what? i can't get comfortable?'

he smiles. sometimes you get a ping in your lower stomach when he looks at you like that.

'all this bedspace and you choose to get comfortable on me?'

'i have a feeling this will be my favorite seat.' a smug grin.

'you're bold for a virgin.'

'would you rather me be scared to be near you, a man with a penis?' peter's head tilts, you know what's coming. 'oh? so you didn't have a panic attack when you saw my dick?'

you twitch your nose at the quip, you pat his tummy, hovering over his waistline. 'speaking of, you should let me see him again. i'm prepared and i wanna touch.'

peter's ignoring the spike in his blood pressure, he doesn't like the gleam in your eye. 'or... i think i have a suggestion for how you can make up the four dollars you owe me.'

'i owe you nothing, but lets hear it.'

you act out your words. 'you,' you point at him. 'me,' you point at yourself. 'having sex,' you gesture to your placement, then the bare spot next to him. before he can ruin it, you continue. 'right now.'

'do you think if you keep asking i'll say yes on a whim?' you lean in, inches from his face. 'you want to have sex with me. you want to take me to pound town. you want to make me a real woman.' it's a poor attempt at hypnotizing.

'okay, well, being a virgin doesn't mean you're not a real woman. second, you still get nervous about making out with me. you're not ready for sex.'

okay, maybe so. it's not your fault you don't know how to act around him, he's the first guy you've seen for longer than a week and he's not your boyfriend.

'i'm not anxious about kissing you.'

'oh, really? do it then.' he called your bluff. you've kissed people before but this whole arrangement was peter's idea so you've left all the initiation to him.

'fine, i'll kiss you.' you make no movements.

'i'm waiting.' you swallow tightly and move in, he's got that smile that makes your heart beat fast, you still haven't pinpointed why. 'i'm going to kiss you.' peter nods, 'go ahead.'

you get closer, 'i'm seriously gonna do it.'

'c'mon, cherry. i hate a tease.' you power through the part of your brain that tells you you've never kissed a guy, you've always waited for them to kiss you. you hold your breath and land a peck on his mouth.

'there. i did it.'

'did what? kiss me like i dared you?’ he finds it funny, that's what you get for being bold. you won't make him laugh this time. you move quick, your lips melt over his, you always forget how good of a kisser he is until you have your mouth on his and you never want to separate again.

it becomes sloppy, when you lick his bottom lip peter groans, it sends a spark to your thighs and you involuntarily clench around nothing. you gasp when you're flipped onto your back, peter's dotting a line over your jaw.

when a rough hand skids under your shirt, you suck in a breath.

'relax.' 

it's easier said than done. peter's right, you talk a big game but when he actually tries to do what you want, you hit the panic button.

'sorry, i was just thinking about the four bucks you owe me.'

'don't lie when i'm about to get handsy.' you squirm when fingers tuck themselves into the band of your bra. 'handsy how?' it's peter's turn to take control.

'how do you feel about hitting second base?'

'you're gonna finger me?' your voice pitches while your mind starts racing, you weren't prepared for this. 'easy, killer. second base is just me feeling you up, when you're ready for more, let me know.'

relief floods you, you get more comfortable underneath him. 'oh, okay. yeah, you can get handsy. do you want me to take my shirt off?'

'i want to suck your tits, you decide.'

your entire body flushes warmth, your cheeks are like lava. 'oh! i've never had that done. does it feel good?'

'i don't know, but i'm here if you want to find out.' you nibble on your bottom lip, it's all about eventually having sex and part of that might include your boobs.

'i'd like to find out.'

peter doesn't rush into it. for someone who doesn't like to be teased, he loves teasing. it feels like an hour passes before you're bare chested, a slurry of insecurity flashes when he doesn't immediately go to town.

'you're beautiful.' peter feels a little silly saying it, he hasn't really complimented a girl so softly under the guise of sex before.

your heart pounds, you've never heard it said so authentically. peter genuinely believes what he's saying, you don't think a guy has ever called you beautiful. you've gotten hot and sexy but never beautiful. you feel the need to give him something back.

'you're handsome.' you might be bad at this, you feel his smile in the crook of your neck.

'thanks, cherry.'

slow marks dance over your collarbones, when they reach your chest you almost flinch. 'i'm okay.' you were speaking to yourself, but maybe peter also needs the reminder. 'are you trying to convince me or yourself?'

'yes.'

'you can tap out. no harm, no foul.' no, you got this far and if you back out it would be taking ten steps backwards. 'i'm not tapping out, i'm waiting to see if what you're saying is worth all the hoopla.'

peter snorts, 'hoopla.' you're about to give a rebuttal, instead you grip the back of his head and let out a breathy 'oh wow,' when peter swirls his tongue around you.

it's igniting you all over, you don't know why you thought it would feel bad. when there's a vacuum seal and peter starts sucking, you're a goner. when he mixes in that little twirl method, you let out an earth shattering moan.

your hand slams over your mouth. 'sorry! i've never done that before and i-' there's a dark look in peter's eyes, you can't decide if he's more upset about your words or making him stop.

'don't ever apologize for your pleasure. got it?' you nod quickly, you'd agree to anything if it meant peter would keep going. 'okay, okay, got it.' it's all he needs and he's back to work, the breast he doesn't have in his mouth is being treated with his hand.

there's double sensation, peter's going back and forth and now you can't think straight and... and... you're about to come and you've never done that in front of another person.

'please stop!'

peter drops his mouth open and freezes, he's moving with caution when he pulls away from you. you race for air while the knot in your stomach slowly untangles.

'are you okay?' peter's looking over every inch of your body, you smile sheepishly and look anywhere but him. 'yeah. i was just like... you know?'

'no.'

'i was gonna... you know? and i've never done that with another person.' peter's trying to jump through the hoops of your 'you know?'s' you say that a lot and very rarely does he actually know what you mean.

'you were about to come?' everything burns, how is he so casual about all of this? 'yeah.' the look on his face tells you he already knew that. 'what did you think the point was? just for fun?'

'you didn't tell me that! how was i supposed to know?' he gives a half shrug. 'it gets some people off and others need more. it was a gamble, nice to know which crowd you fit in though.'

you feel a bit silly, of course that was the intention. wasn't this whole thing about your pleasure? 'if you get me off, i have to get you off.' peter's quick to shut you down.

'you don't have to do anything. sex isn't transactional.'

'yeah, but, peter, i want to please you too. this doesn't do much for me if you keep me away from you.' peter takes your concern to heart, he nods thoughtfully and calmly explains his hesitation.

'i understand that, and i promise we'll get there. mutual pleasure is something we need to conquer before sex, yes. but for right now, as someone who's done those things for a while, i'm on the backburner. i need to catch you up to speed on some things first, okay? you've never come in front of someone, you don't need to be trying to tack blowjob skills on top of that.'

peter has an excellent argument, you just feel bad he's not getting anything in return. he doesn't owe you anything, he's just doing you a favor and he absolutely doesn't owe you loyalty. it's not like peter likes you, he's just doing you a favor, that's all this is.

'just because...' your tongue feels thick, it feels hard to say what you're about to say and you don't know why. 'just because you're helping me out doesn't mean you have to suffer. so if you want to hookup with someone more experienced while we-'

'no. that's not what this is about, that mentality is why we're not just jumping into sex. cherry lube or not.' you don't know why that relieves you, you don't know why you feel so much better knowing peter wasn't looking for anything with anyone else.

just in case; 'if you do hook up with someone else-'

'i won't.'

'-i believe you. but if you do, can you promise not to tell me? if you need to take care of yourself outside of this just don't let me find out, please.' it'd be crushing to know what peter's doing with you while knowing he's doing the same thing with another girl who could actually pleasure him back.

'cherry, seriously, that's not what this is about.' it's sex. it's only about sex. how could you be confusing it?

'sex is about open and honest communication. it's about trusting each other and being vulnerable. it doesn't matter if it's a one night stand or a committed relationship, it takes a lot to open up to someone else like that. if, and i wouldn't, but i'll entertain you- if i wanted to step out of this, i'd tell you first, because that's what you're supposed to do.'

when you picked peter out of the line of frat boys you had no idea you got the one who was all about slow and steady. you expected a quick one night and to be sent off to live the world as a non-virgin, not the beefy gentleman in front of you.

'you're one of a kind, parker.' peter winks at you, you feel warm. 'same to you, cherry. this only works if we're open with each other, i'm not just teaching you the physical parts of sex, i'm trying to show you the mental and emotional side of it because that's way more important than the actual sex, does that make sense?'

you think you get what he's saying. 'so, because you already know these things, your pleasure doesn't matter right now?'

'correct.'

'and if it matters to me?'

'don't let it. because if it becomes an issue i'll...' he trails off, he's waiting on you to finish it for him. you'll prove you've been listening. 'tell me.'

'bingo! look at you, cherry smart.' you groan, 'that was gross.' peter squeezes your knee, he's looking over your face for any hesitation, he doesn't see any.

'are we good? we're on the same page now?'

you nibble on your bottom lip, you think you covered everything. you didn't know there were so many things to sex. 'yeah, same page.' peter's happy with that, he nods once and turns back on the horny part of his brain.

'still wanna call it quits or keep going?'

same page, same page, same page, same-

'keep going.' you sound nervous, peter catches it. 'are you sure? we can put it on pause and-'

'no, i wanna...' time to be a big girl, you're both on the same page. 'i wanna have you make me...' you lose your tenacity but you still power through, even if you mumble the last word. 'come.'

peter tells you if you wanna stop, at any point for any reason, just call it like you did before. you agree but tell yourself you were going to get through it because the sooner you open yourself up for pleasure, the sooner peter opens himself up for the same thing.

it's not a hard thing to power through, this time you're not shy about quiet whimpers or tugging at the back of peter's hair. 'oh my god,' you squeeze your eyes shut, there are zings of want being sent into your core, it's an unreal feeling.

peter grazes his teeth over your nipple, your back arches from his bed. 'okay, yeah, shit, fuck, okay.' you're bad at staying calm, peter's humming into your skin, you want more. you want everything he's given you multiplied by ten.

a switch to your left breast, it's just as satisfying. when his thumb tweaks your bud, you push up further. 'i want more, please more.' you don't know what you're asking for, you're hoping peter will help you out.

peter sucks harshly, your breath hitches and at that perfect moment, he grinds his hips into yours. an egregious moan rips from your throat, you can't help the tumbling whimper, it sounds pathetic. peter must like it, he rolls harsher, his jeans meet your bottoms perfectly.

'doin' okay?' you answer by shoving his head back down. 'mhm, keep doing that please.' peter follows  the instruction, whatever gets you off, he'll do.

bump and grind, he's back on your right tit. it's been ten minutes but you can already tell he prefers that one. it took longer to build because you edged yourself, but peter hit that one spot and your thighs are a vice grip around his hips.

'oh my fucking god, peter.' he said he doesn't know if it would feel good, you wish you could share a fraction of what you're experiencing. your lower stomach tightens, peter latches down harder as if he has a sixth sense for what you're about to do.

you don't know what to do with your hands, when you grit your teeth and meet his miniature thrusts, they land on peter's arms and your nails dig in. your eyes slam closed, you see white light as if your picture was taken with the flash on.

'shit, shit, shit, shit!' you swear you're drawing blood from him but all you can think about is the heat exploding from your body. your hips buck they never have before, there's a sense of delight backing it up.

you've never had an orgasm like this in your entire life. it feels so different with another person, it felt like it was never ending. your legs feel like they locked up, you stop breathing for a solid second before you're gasping.

peter pulls back, your head is still spinning. your chest rapidly rises and falls, you feel marks over your face but you're so far away in your mind it's muddled.

'c'mon, come back to me.' you feel more awake, there's a wet kiss to your cheek, then another to your chin. 'c'mon, cherry. find your mind.' you do, your eyes open, you forgot you had them closed. it's like peeling them apart.

you feel wrecked.

'hi.' peter's got a cocky grin, he deserves it. you run your hand down your face, you feel fuzzy. 'hi.' you remember the harm you might've caused, you slightly shake when you reach for peter's arm, there's no marks.

'how are you feeling?' like you're leaking into his mattress, like every muscle is weighed down, like you couldn't stand up if you tried. the best you can come up with is, 'floaty.'

'that might stick around for a minute. want some water?' you hadn't thought of it before, but suddenly you feel parched. peter reads your mind, he's already holding out his water bottle.

'everything's better right after, no idea why.' peter guesses it's something with endorphins and brain chemicals, but he's never bothered to actually look into it.

after sitting up, you chug. even after the water you're still breathless. 'holy shit.' falling forward, peter catches you. you lay on him as a half hug, all he's doing is supporting your weight. you feel terribly heavy right now.

'thank you so much, oh my god. holy shit, a guy just made me come in my pants, what the fuck is my life?' a sprinkle of kisses from your ear to your cheek, 'don't build my ego too much or you'll have to deal with it.'

'i feel so heavy right now.' you drop to the pillow at peter's push, you don't have it in you to fight back. it's not necessary because peter falls right next to you and scoops you into his hold.

or, another way to put it, peter's cuddling you. peter's cuddling you while he's kissing your shoulder, it makes your head spin even more. 'what are you doing?' you're not fighting him on it, if anything you're leaning in further, he's just never cuddled you before. it feels nice.

'aftercaring you. doing my best to get you back down to earth from your floaty space.' you nod like you understand, there's still some things you need to get better at.

'hey, peter?'

'yeah?' he's much quieter.

'you don't owe me four dollars anymore.' a puff of hot air into your skin, at least he finds you funny. 'good. you were never gonna get it anyways.' 

[borlewifefr]

THIS IS SO CUTE HELLO???

lucky* (single dadrry x art teacher!yn check-in)

word count: 2.6k

content warnings: kids/family talk, fluffy smut (grinding, mentions of m receiving oral), not ramadan friendly!

based on this one-shot

. . .

From: Harry

Riley asked if he could tag along tonight. I was able to distract him with dino nuggets, but that kid has the memory of a full grown adult, I swear.

To: Harry

lmao. he can come hang with us, you know he’s always welcome here 

From: Harry

And let him take all of your attention after I haven’t seen you all week? Yeah, right.

I’ll be there at 7. 

To: Harry

is now a good time to tell you that i think your kid is way cooler than you are?

From: Harry

Come over and do the bedtime routine with us and you’ll think differently. x

Y/N bites away the smile edging at her lips as she looks up from her phone. She couldn’t help it — she always noticed the rush of happiness that swarmed through her body whenever she spoke to her boyfriend, especially about the prospects of plans. 

Her boyfriend.

She can’t believe that Harry is officially her boyfriend. Even though it happened a few weeks ago, she still finds herself in pockets of disbelief, mostly when they’re spending time together. She’ll glance over at him and take in his side profile, or remember that day when he came in, so angry at her for allowing Riley’s hair to be soaked with paint, and flush with the realization that somehow that turned into a real, loving relationship. One with mutual respect and care, one that was handled carefully, especially given the fact that there was a child involved. Y/N hadn’t ever dated someone who already had a kid, so she and Harry had multiple conversations regarding expectations and the changes this may incur on Riley’s life. 

Ultimately, they chose to keep most of the relationship away from Riley until things got more serious. She and Harry had every intention of being in the long haul together, but they both knew it wouldn’t be helpful to any of them if they threw in Riley’s comfort and mental stability. For now, all he knew was that his dad had a new friend who he liked very much, and sometimes he went to go see her and spend time with her. So far, it was working well.

Tonight, however, was the first night that she and Harry had decided they’d have a sleepover. It sounded ridiculous and childish, but Harry always struggled with leaving Y/N’s place early enough to catch Riley before he went to bed. He beat himself up when he got home and he was already tucked in and snoozing. So Y/N suggested having a scheduled night that they dedicated just to them: He’d get to put Riley to bed himself and do his entire winddown routine with him (dinner, a bath, reading him multiple books since Harry was a sucker and couldn’t say no, and finally planting a kiss to his cheek when his sleepy eyes finally began to close), the babysitter would stay the night, and Harry would shuffle off to Y/N’s. 

It was a good plan. 

Except… well, except that they hadn’t slept in the same bed together yet, and their touching hadn’t gone past kissing and heavy petting. It was difficult — it had nothing to do with their attraction for one another, they were busy, and it wasn’t exactly optimal to jerk your boyfriend off when he was disappointed at himself for missing his son’s bedtime. 

But Y/N and Harry are grown adults, and they’re aware of the underlying meaning of tonight. She knows it’s a big deal for him to place his trust in her after putting his own happiness and love life on the backburner for so long. 

It’s why she’s spent the day scampering around her townhouse, sweeping, mopping, doing laundry, and doing everything she can to make the place as comfortable as possible for him. He’s spent many evenings here — he often comes over for dinner after work since his days at the office run longer than hers at the art studio — but it’s different when you spend an entire night somewhere new. She wants her blankets and pillows to smell cozy and feel even fluffier; her bedroom a calm oasis so even if he begins to worry — whether it be about Riley, or other subject matters — he won’t feel as overwhelmed and nervous.

When 7 finally ticks along, Harry, as usual, appears at her front door, prompt and anxious. He hasn’t voluntarily left RIley alone for an entire night unless it was for a business trip. But the second Y/N answers the door with that pretty smile he adores, his nerves melt just a tad. She almost immediately pulls him in for a hug, a chuckle vibrating through his chest as he leans down to press a kiss to her hair.

“Miss me that much?” he teases. He sets his duffel bag down in the entryway of her home and she kicks the front door closed. Through flushed cheeks, she grins.

“It’s been ages,” she pouts, standing on her tippy-toes to lightly peck his lips, “And I’ve never gotten you for the night. I’m excited.”

Harry’s chest contracts slightly at her words. He doesn’t know how, but she has a way of making even the scariest things seem approachable, and it makes him want to smother her with kisses until she’s pushing him away. Keeping a grasp on his hand, she guides him into the townhouse he’s grown familiar with. He notices that her kitchen is free from its typical small messes — half-empty glasses, crumbs from late night snacks — and she has a new candle burning on the coffee table in the living room. 

“Did you clean for me?” Harry asks with a smirk. Again, she blushes before turning to face him. 

“I just wanted you to be comfortable,” she explains, sucking on her bottom lip, “It’s a big deal. Y’know?”

“It is a big deal.” he agrees as he issues her hand a small squeeze, “And I wouldn’t want to take this step with anyone else. I hope you know that.”

A wide grin covers her face. 

She doesn’t know how she got so lucky with him.

. . .

Y/N’s tucked into Harry’s side as their third romantic comedy of the night plays on TV. Glancing down at the warm, dead weight curled around his form, he smiles gently when he sees her eyes batting closed. He nudges her lightly.

“Wanna go to bed, baby?”

She hums tiredly and sits up slightly, pressing her chin to his chest to look up at him. 

“What time is it?” she asks, covering her mouth with her hand as a yawn struggles to strain free. He unlocks his phone, his screen glowing to life with a picture of a smiling Riley holding up a painting he did in Y/N’s class. 

“Just past midnight,” he replies, stretching his arms out. His tee-shirt rises up a bit to reveal a bit of his inked hips and it makes Y/N swallow. 

“Sorry this wasn’t a super fun evening,” she replies with a pout. She stands from the couch and leans over to grab their empty glasses — they’d each had a serving of wine each, but the minor buzz was long gone by now, despite Y/N being ever the lightweight. “Maybe next time we’ll plan something big, like… I dunno. Something good.”

She’s chattering sleepily and it makes Harry chuckle. He follows her into the kitchen, hugging her from behind as she rinses the cups in the sink. 

“This has been perfect,” he murmurs lowly before pressing a kiss to her temple. “We don’t need to plan anything for it to be fun. I just like being in your presence.”

She warms as she dries the freshly cleaned glasses, gently placing them in the rack on the counter. 

“You’re too sweet.” she mumbles. She shuts the water off and turns in his grasp to face him, lurching forward to bury her head in his neck. “C’mon then, let’s go to bed. You almost fell asleep on the couch.”

He snorts at her joke and rolls his eyes when she looks up at him with that dumb, cheeky grin she loves to flash at him. With their fingers intertwined, he bends down to grab his bag before following her to her bedroom. 

He’s been in here several times before — on evenings when she’s particularly exhausted, he’ll help her wind down for bed, pecking her lips before driving home. One time, when Harry had an awful day at work, Y/N ran him a warm shower, complete with fancy lavender-scented steam that he’s been meaning to ask her about ever since. Despite being semi-familiar with the space, their more intimate time was often being cut short for fears of Harry missing bedtime with Riley, or Y/N needing to wake up early the following morning.

This time, however, there was nothing stopping them. No deadlines, no places to be. The knowledge made them both buzz with excitement and nerves.

Her bedroom is dim as they quietly shuffle around, changing out of their clothes and into pajamas. Harry’s the first to crawl into her cozy bed, nibbling on his bottom lip as he scrolls on his phone. Y/N flicks the single lamp off and allows the moonlight to seep through the curtains of her window, yawning once more as she climbs in next to him.

“Everything alright?” she asks softly. Harry hums, moving his arm to wrap around her shoulders and pull her closer. 

“Yeah. Just wanted to make sure I didn’t miss anything from the babysitter.”

“Mm,” Y/N nods. She purses her lips, forming a gentle kiss at his jawline. “You still feel okay about staying overnight?”

A smile cracks at the edges of his lips. He locks his phone and places it on the nightstand before flipping onto his side to face her. 

“I’d be lying if I said a piece of my heart wasn’t still at my own place with Riley, but I’m so happy to be here with you. I promise.”

She swallows as she reaches out to thumb at his bottom lip. “You’re cute.”

“Am I?”

She giggles, “You are, and you know it.”

His eyes flutter shut as she begins to trace his features. With featherlight strokes of her fingertips, she ghosts over his lips, his chin, down to his throat and collarbones. He hums softly at the feeling, her other hand hovering over the hem of his tee-shirt as she silently waits for permission to push the fabric up. 

“What’re you doing?” he whispers out, eyes flickering open as she curls her fingers around the bottom of his shirt. 

“Is it okay if I make you feel good?” 

He pauses. Swallows, and she removes her hands from his form. 

“You can say no,” she quickly tacks on, “Please say no if you’re not 100%. I need you to be comfortable.”

His throat bobs. “It’s just… you know.”

She nods. They haven’t spoken about Harry’s anxiety surrounding physical intimacy since their first date, but she hasn’t forgotten about it. It’s been an active decision to move slowly and she would never want to do anything to push him past his limits. 

“We can just go to sleep,” she murmurs, “It’s okay. I promise.”

He catches her wrist in a gentle grasp, lips parting as if he’s surprised by his own bravery. Slowly, he guides her down to his crotch, where he’s tenting in his sweatpants. Y/N bites her lip before allowing her mouth to form around a small oh in fear of making him feel self-conscious. 

“I need to know that you’re sure,” she whispers in the darkness of her bedroom. Despite the limited light, she can still recognize his facial expressions, watching as a small wrinkle carves itself between his eyebrows. He’s nervous, that much she can tell. The rest is a mystery.

“I just need you to be slow,” he rasps. “It’s been… it’s been a long time, Y/N.”

She nearly coos out a response, wanting nothing more than to love and take care of the man that lays beside her. When he lets go of her hand, she cups him softly through the material of his bottoms, slightly surprised at how hard he feels. 

“You can trust me. I promise.” 

He nods, and it’s a flurry of shaky, hesitant movements and constant asks of reassurance from there. Everytime she pushes her foot on the gas, she reminds herself to stop and make sure he’s comfortable. He doesn’t ask to stop; not when she’s pulling down his sweatpants or mouthing at him through the fabric of his briefs, not when she’s drooling onto the ruddy head of his length or pressing her fingernails into his laurel-inked hips.

Harry is louder in bed than she had anticipated, or maybe it’s because it’s just been so long for him. He allows strained moans and curses to fall from his plush lips when she guides him into his mouth, and he even tangles a fist in her hair when the tip of his cock bumps down her throat. She thinks he’ll cum when she swallows around him, feeling his balls tighten in her free hand but he stops himself. She knows he does because he tips her head back and stares down at her with rounded eyes, taking her chin between his fingers and gently urges her up the length of his body. She obeys wordlessly, allowing him to move her however he deems fit. 

“I wanna see you when I cum,” he eventually explains breathily. She nods, ignores the way her heart feels like it grows another size in her chest, and straddles his hips.

“Is it okay if I grind on you? Or do you want me to just use my hand?”

“You can grind on me,” he replies with a nod, tongue peeking out to moisten his lips. And when she rolls her hips down against his, it’s magic — the wetness between them emits a dirty, slushy sound (admittedly, Y/N is half to blame, since she couldn’t possibly go down on her boyfriend without making a sticky mess between her own legs). Harry pants loudly beneath her and his hands find purchase on her thighs as she moves, allowing his length to slick between her pussy lips. 

It doesn’t take much for him to finish after that — especially not with his sleepy-eyed girlfriend on top of him, whimpering softly at the sensation of his tip bumping against her clit. When he comes, it’s a lot, and it’s messy, but Y/N can’t find it in her to care much as she leans down to smother Harry’s face in kisses; the pride in her chest for him growing to a point where it can’t be kept inside anymore.

“‘M so proud of you,” she mumbles. Harry laughs and wrinkles his nose as he wraps an arm around her waist, guiding her onto her side. 

“Jesus, it’s not like I have erectile dysfunction,” he jokes, and Y/N rolls her eyes. "And you didn't come, either."

“This wasn't about me— and you know what I mean, Harry. I know this means a lot. For you, for both of us.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his face turning serious. “I didn’t know if I would ever find someone as caring or genuine as you. You’re so… gentle with me, it’s almost like I’m dreaming.”

Y/N smiles and reaches out to cup his cheek with her hand. “I’m in this for the long haul.”

“I know you are,” he says, taking her hand into his and pressing kisses to her knuckles, “And I’m so lucky for that.”

[borlewifefr]

the way you write soft Simon gives me life 🫶 I was wondering if you’d be open to writing Simon who is concerned for reader’s safety so they get into an argument, and Simon raises his voice at her. Simon wouldn’t realise at first, because he’s used to being the tough guy at work, but when reader starts crying he freaks out and starts comforting her! Love your work 💕

Sorry, Baby - Simon "Ghost" Riley 🌷

that is such a sweet idea omg!! i appreciate the support sm female reader angst & comfort, simon is kind of meaaan not properly proofread

"You need to answer the phone when I call you!" Simon sighs, pressing a hand hard into the kitchen counter. His cold blue eyes are glaring at you, so much that you can feel it even while you look down at your feet. This doesn’t feel like the Simon you know - the Simon who chuckled softly as he refused to let you out of bed this morning. His lips were pressed gently against the crook of your neck, but now they form a scowl from across the room.

"Si, I can’t be waiting for your call all the time, I have a life!" you look up at him, trying to hide your glances towards his clenched fists.

"You have a life, with me, and I would prefer it if you didn’t put it in danger," he growls.

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

“Don’t play dumb. You belong t’me, I keep you safe," he grits his teeth, "when I call you, you fucking answer!"

"You can’t lock me up for the rest of my life, Simon!" you plead, raising your voice a little to compete with his.

"I’ll have to lock you up if you can’t stop being so fucking irresponsible!" he shouts, raising his voice higher than he’s ever raised it before in front of you. His face is flushed, and in the short silence between the two of you, all you can hear is his heavy breathing.

This is the military intimidation that you’ve heard about, just a glimpse into how it feels to be on Simon’s bad side. The difference is, you know he wouldn’t hurt you - right?

His anger falters when you go quiet. Hair falls to cover your eyes as you fold your arms and look away from him. He’s still on edge, his heart beating hard in his chest.

What are you supposed to say to that? All you can do is bite your lip, trying to avoid whimpering like a baby, and walk away. Your hands quaking, and little tears forming in your eyes, you rush to your bedroom and shut the door.

"Wait, darling," your boyfriend calls out in a much softer tone, immediately wracked with guilt as his anger crumbles. He’s being too aggressive, and now the only person he actually cares about is in tears in his bedroom. "I’m sorry…" he mumbles, knowing you’re not there to listen.

You sit in bed, holding a teddy bear (a gift from Si). Squeezing the bear, your thoughts are irrational - you’re not making coherent points, you’re just sad and confused and scared. More than anything, you just want to cry.

Those little gasps between sobs break Simon’s heart, as he listens silently outside of your room. The door isn’t locked, but he doesn’t want to force his way in if you don’t want him to.

"You there, angel..?" he speaks softly through the door, scared to face the effects of what he said before.

No response. The only noises you make are little sniffles, almost embarrassed that he can hear your vulnerability, as you curl up.

"Will you let me come in..?" he places a hand on the doorknob. His guilt is very evident in his voice, making a conscious effort to be as tender and non-threatening as possible - it shatters him to see his baby hurt.

"Okay…" you mumble, barely audible through the door.

Light enters your room in segments as the knob turns and Simon steps in, to find you laying on the bed with your back turned to him. Little sniffles tug at his heart as he moves towards you.

"C’mere, love…" he murmurs, tenderly scooping you up and holding you to his chest. The argument and the fear have thoroughly worn you out, and so rather than fighting him, you just fall right back where you belong - into his strong arms.

"Please don’t cry," he kisses your forehead with care, cupping your face in his hands as his thumbs wipe those pretty little tears away. "Don’t cry, sweetheart, I beg ya…"

"Sorry, S- Si…" you sniff. You feel so bad, so ridiculous, all teary-eyed just because he rose his voice.

"Oh, baby, no," he strokes your hair attentively, "you didn’t do anything wrong. ‘M sorry I shouted at you. Didn’t deserve it at all." Weary of making any sudden movements and starting you - as if you were a kitten - he slowly lowers his head so that his forehead meets yours and the two gently rest against each other.

You don’t say much, too shaken and upset to know what to say. Your breath is shaky and inconsistent, little cries coming out occasionally, as the tears continue to stream down your puffy cheeks - but the room is cold and Simon is so warm, with his muscular arms holding you to him. He’s so tender, with his rough hands carefully caressing your sore face. He’s so loving, as he looks at you like he’s do anything in the world to make you happy.

Finally, Simon knows how it feels to be truly sorry - he’s looking down at his sweet girl, the woman he’d die for, and she’s in floods of tears because he frightened her.

"Sorry… sorry, love…" he hums, wrapping his arms around you to shield you from everything except for him. "Just don’t want you to get hurt, didn’t want my girl being alone with some bloke i don’t know… want you safe wi’me…" he mumbles into your ear, telling you over and over again how sorry he is, how much he loves you, how he only wants you to protect you.

"Sorry for crying…" you look up at him with sorrowful eyes, obviously blaming yourself for being unreasonable. He can feel your soft breath on his skin as you meet his eyes, your cheeks shiny from tears.

"Don’t be… are you still upset..?"

"A little bit."

"I love you. I shouldn’t have got upset, you didn’t deserve tha’."

"Love you too,” you rest your head on his chest, and close your eyes. He’s forgiven, and you both know it; you’re just too tired to put it into words. So you show him your love by holding him, your hands not quite meeting eachother around his broad back. It’s okay, he doesn’t feel any need for words, either. All he needs is you.

i hope this was okay!!! i feel like it was a bit weak but maybe i’m just self critical 😋 your request was so good i just couldn’t do it justice!

masterlist buy me a coffee

[borlewifefr]

A little idea of a scene for hockeyxballerina: even before they start having a thing they end up in a heated kiss with him pressing her against a wall, car, bookshelf of whatever whi his hamd on her throat and her brain his so foggy she lets him spit on her mouth but the she comes to hers senses and runs away without a word, not even an insult because she is so shocked with what she did

🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

word count: 1.6k

content warnings: smut (hehe finally!!!) (spitting, public play, dirty talk, degradation)

hockey!h x ballerina!yn masterlist

main masterlist

. . .

There must be something clinically wrong with Y/N tonight.

Well, maybe not just tonight. Maybe... maybe, that "something wrong" has been creeping up her body and spreading from her stomach out to her chest and center over the duration of a past few weeks. Maybe she expected it go away after a day or two, because why wouldn't it?

Harry Styles is his worst nightmare. Her moral enemy. Her fiercest competitor.

So why the fuck does she think he looks good enough to swallow whole tonight?

He walked in with a crowd of his hockey buddies an hour or so after Y/N, Lea, Rena, and Mai had arrived. Per the pre-game hosted at Mai and Rena's place, she was already feeling a little buzzed when she got here. She was planning on taking it easy tonight — she was still diligently practicing for the spring showcase every day — but the second her eyes flitted over to the stupid backwards hat he wore and the flex of his jaw from the gum he chewed, she knew she needed more to get through the night.

And she's pleasantly tipsy when she makes a move to head to the bathroom. She hears her friends scold her for "breaking the seal," but she rolls her eyes and playfully flips them off in response. Her sneakers stick to the vodka-coated floors of the college bar as she pushes her way through the crowd, trying to make her way to the ladies' room without any tequila spillage on her top.

Harry Styles is an idiot, she thinks to herself as she walks, There's no way I could have a crush on him. What, just because he drove me home a few times and helped me when I hurt my ankle? That's stupid, he's stupid, and—

"Hey, you."

Her eyes dart up at the familiar deep voice and she wishes the ground would open up and take her right then and there. Did she somehow conjure Harry up with her thoughts? She's a little drunk, but there's no way she's that powerful.

Unless she is.

"I have to pee." she replies, pointing to the bathrooms behind his tall stature.

"Okay. Go pee, then."

She flashes a tight smile his way as she brushes past him. She thinks from the corner of her eye she sees him stand against the wall of the small hallway, crossing her arms over his chest. The last time they were in this area together, it was right after she slept with Malcolm (the stupid, prissy idiot from the opposing team who wouldn't even smack her ass). At this point, it's been months since Harry lowly waxed poetic in her ear about how he could make all her degrading dreams come true.

The memory makes her shudder as she washes her hands.

Y/N's suspicious are proved right when she exits the bathroom to see Harry still standing there. She's prepared to ignore him and walk straight past him until he reaches out to grasp her wrist, gently pulling her back. She yelps, a tipsy, unattractive sound, and it makes Harry's eyes crease with laughter.

"You good?" he asks. Y/N's vision darts down to the gum he's chewing between his teeth and she swallows.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

Harry shrugs. "Just making sure you're not too drunk."

"I have a dress rehearsal this weekend," she replies with a shake of her head. "I just came out to see the girls."

"And me." He points out cheekily, making her roll her eyes.

"I didn't even know you'd be here tonight, Harry."

"It's one of three bars in town and all the athletes come here."

He's right about that, and she knows he could double down by pointing out the obvious, too — that this is the only bar their friend groups ever frequent, and the hockey team rarely misses a Friday night out.

Luckily, he spares her the embarrassment.

"We have a game tomorrow night," he continues, "Will you come?"

"Why would I do that?"

"School spirit. Duh."

Y/N scoffs at that and shakes her head. She focuses her eyesight on anything but the cocky, beautiful, stupid man in front of her.

"I'm practicing all day. I'll be in an ice bath before your game even starts."

"Hot," he smirks. Y/N's stomach flutters.

"Stop being a douche. I thought we were past this."

"We are!" Harry exclaims, lifting his hands up in surrender. She only now realizes that he'd had his fingers looped around her wrist that entire time. "I'm just saying, you're hot."

"You must be more fucked up than I thought," Y/N guffaws.

"If I was fucked up, I'd be trying to sleep with you right now."

The words fly from her lips before she can even stop them: "And that's not what you're doing?"

She doesn't know if she says it because she wants to call him out on his bluff or she's feeling the confidence — and lust — from her the drinks she consumed tonight. But she doesn't take it back. And she certainly doesn't walk away as she watches Harry's head cock slightly to the side. His expression almost seems as if he's... impressed, in some way. The smirk on his lips makes her ball her fists at her side.

"You would know if I was trying to fuck you, Y/N."

She swallows. It's warm — she's suddenly so warm right now as she realizes their chests are nearly pressed against one another. The height difference between them makes it so her breasts are below his pecs, but she still feels the expanse of muscles through the layers of their clothing.

"I doubt that," she mutters, and he clenches his jaw. It's almost hypnotizing to watch. "I really think—"

"I think you should shut up now."

In a moment, his hand is spread over her hip and they've swapped places; her back now pressed firmly up against the wall. His tall form all but blocks any onlookers from seeing who he has cornered, but he couldn't forget it even if he wanted to. Not when he's been dreaming of this for weeks.

And really, he wouldn't do it if he didn't have some sort of prior knowledge about her hookup with Malcolm — the fact that she's somehow just depraved as him.

So he wedges his gum to the back of his molars, utters out the words, "open your mouth", and gathers up the spit behind his lips. His length immediately thickens in his pants when she sticks her tongue out. And then he spits in her mouth.

She whimpers instantly at the feeling but it's drowned out by his own groan. It's filthy and demeaning, but he can see it in her eyes how much she loves it.

"Looks so good," he mumbles, thumbing at a bit at the side of her mouth before pushing it in. "Swallow."

She does.

"You're well-behaved for a brat," he notes as he gives her hip a squeeze. She hums, eyes flickering when his hand lifts her shirt up slightly, fingertips trailing over the smooth skin of her stomach. "Did you want a prize, puppy?"

With hazy eyes, she nods.

He smirks, almost immediately stuffing his hand down her jeans. She gasps when he finds the sodden fabric of her underwear, eliciting a low chuckle from his chest.

"All this just for some spit? Maybe you're nastier than I thought."

She wishes she could reply back with something snarky but she can’t, not when he begins to roll her clit beneath his fingertips. Her eyes flutter shut as he applies a bit more pressure, pausing momentarily to collect some of the wetness accumulating at her whimpering hole.

“Finally let me play with this pretty pussy, hm?” he says mockingly, “Maybe one day you’ll let me stretch it out, too. Might take awhile for it to fit, though— I know you’ve never been with someone as big as me.”

“Shut up,” she mumbles breathily. He laughs and squeezes her clit between two of his fingers. She gasps, barely offering enough recovery time before he’s back to rubbing circles.

“What, you really think you could take my cock, sweetheart? You can barely take one of my fingers. Gonna have to train you for months, but I think you’d like that.”

“Harry—“

“I know,” he coos condescendingly as he speeds up the movements of his fingers. “You’re such a stubborn brat you’d just want me to stuff you full on the first try. Feel me in your fuckin’ stomach.”

“‘m gonna cum,” she mewls, reaching out to dig her fingernails into his chest. He hisses from the small bite of pain. “Don’t stop, please, I’m gonna cum—“

Harry wouldn’t stop touching her even if he wanted to. Especially not as he watches her fall apart beneath his grasp, her knees almost buckling from the intensity of her orgasm. He feels her pussy clenching rapidly and he swallows harshly, the sight nearly being enough to make him come in his pants.

She’s quiet and shaky as her orgasm tapers off and Harry gently pulls his hand from her pants. He helps adjust her jeans back up and over her hips, her eyes flickering up to his face.

“Oh my god,” she mutters, her eyes widening as if she’s just realized what she’s done. “Oh my god, what the fuck?”

“What?” Harry asks through furrowed brows. He’s expecting some sort of nervous response about accidentally abandoning her friends, but instead she shakes her head and lightly pushes him away.

“I can’t. This was— this was bad, so fucking stupid.” She mumbles to herself, keeping her arms stretched out in front of her so he can’t get closer. “Fuck, Harry.”

He’s left confused and nervous as she watches her leave the bar.

[borlewifefr]

STOP

I’m an easy guy

Give me an unhinged mess voiced by Christian Borle and you got me