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milkypompon · 6 hours

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In Plain Sight: The Indoctrination of Nathan Bateman

summary: nathan lets you in.

pairing: nathan bateman x f!reader

contents: 18+/nsfw/minors dni, hurt comfort, sad!nathan, illusions to alcoholism, family angst, illusions to child abuse, vulnerable!nathan

wc: 1730

an: we’re back and today’s in plain sight saga lets us into nathan’s brain and background.

in plain sight masterlist | planted | little hamlet

Today starts like every other day for you. Days have melded and melted together since your mother’s death, and so today is like any other. One day at a time, that’s what Nathan had said to do. He’s been good to you. Great to you. So understanding and patient and forgiving as you navigate taking care of your sisters through this rough time. He’s been taking care of you. It’s strange to feel dependent on someone when you’ve been independent for so long.

Its stranger that that person is Nathan— he loves you, sure, he can be romantic and witty and kind. But, how he’s taken care of you over the last 3 months has been selfless, he’s been the most thoughtful person you’ve ever met. And while he had committed to growth as a person to win you over, you couldn’t have said you expected him to be so gracious. It’s a pleasant surprise. An indicator you gave the right man the right chance.

You aren’t just expecting him to wake up ready and willing to pull the weight like he has for these last few months. He’s allowed to be tired, to need space or a break to deal with his own shit and you have no issue with that. But, when you come into work today Nathan is nowhere to be found. The house is eerily quiet.

Your stomach flips a little, the alarm bells ringing in your head. But then you take a deep breath and center yourself, working that anxiety from a 7 to a 4. Because not everything has to be the fight it used to be, not with him by your side. Not with the promises he’s made to you.

Maybe he’s sat in the kitchen too wrapped up in his laptop to have realized what time it is or that you’ve arrived. When you get to the kitchen, you quickly realize that’s not the case. It's empty– clean as always, but empty. You check the coffee maker, it's loaded but not on and brewing like it usually is. You sigh, setting your bag on the dining table, mentally starting to make a game plan on finding him.

He could be many places in this neverending bunker he calls a home. Sometimes you tease him, calling him a princess locked in some ivory tower. It always gets you an eye roll, some whiny smart ass comment, and when he’s feeling particularly vindictive, some intense tickling. Those moments, like most of the moments you have with Nathan, have you ready to pinch yourself in disbelief. Believing the man you now share a life with used to be your grumpy, narcissistic boss is a mindfuck– but you chose to believe it, you choose to believe him because of how surprisingly easy it is to love him.

Turning back towards the counter, you start the coffee maker and head into the living room. You’re not surprised that he isn’t there, he would’ve said something by now. You head downstairs to the offices and work rooms, stopping in your office first. You find it empty.

The trail begins. You pop your head into every lab, ever office, every closet, nook and cranny. And eventually after expanding your search you find Nathan where you least expect him…in bed.

Curled up under his blanket, an unopened bottle of beer sitting on his nightstand. It’s dark, just the light of his alarm clock.

You step into the room, coming to rest on your knees to get a closer look at him. His eyes are open, glassy and obviously red, even in the limited light. You’ve never seen him like this. It’s like he’s seeing a ghost or maybe nothing at all. He doesn’t even move when you wave a hand in front of his face.

“Baby?” You whisper, voice colored with worry.

Nathan blinks, jumping back ever so slightly to sit up like he’s just returned from another dimension. For just a moment, there’s fear in his eyes and then he’s squeezing them shut, clenching his fist together. When his eyes finally meet yours he looks a little more like himself.

“What are you doing down here?” He asks softly, running a hand over his buzzed hair.

“I got in for work and I couldn’t find you.”

“Shit, what fucking time—“ He looks over at the clock, pinching his nose when he sees the time. “Fuck.”

“Nathan, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I lost track of time. Didn’t sleep well. You know the feeling,” Nathan’s tone isn’t unkind or dismissive— it never is anymore, when it comes to you— but it is markedly avoidant.

“Nathan.”

“Honey,” He counters, rising out of bed. He reaches for the beer bottle on his nightstand, and throws it in the trash before start towards his bathroom.

“We don’t do that,” You say, following after him.

He stops just shy of the door, turning around to raise a brow at you, “Do what, honey?”

“Lie.”

“You’re accusing me of lying right now?”

You cross your arms against your chest, and for the first time in a long time, you fix Nathan with that look that initially drew him in. Nonsensical and fiery; confrontational. “I am.”

“I don’t lie. I have no reason to fucking lie.”

“Nathan, get real,” You murmur gently.

“I am real. Would you stop it with the fucking pushing?”

“When…when we first started this, I wanted to hide too. The shit with my mom, with my sisters, all the managing— I didn’t know if you’d still want me if you knew about the massive baggage. But you told me that we’re trying. Trying to be there and trying to love each other the best we can. You’ve done that for me every single day, and even more so since my mom died. I think it’s only fair if you let me do that for you too.”

Nathan looks at you like you’re some foreign object he’s seeing for the first time. Like he’s a lost, terrified puppy who’s finally receiving some care. Maybe it was silly of you to think that because your love was steady that he’d let go, that he’d open up completely. But you want him to, want him to feel utterly safe, to show you all the sides of him. That side that’s looking at you right now, skittish and broken. You love him regardless. It’s your turn to remind him of that, if he’ll let you.

“Say something. Anything,” You murmur quietly, reaching out to lace your fingers together.

His gaze falls to where your hands meet, and then he sits heavily on the bed, pulling you with him.

After a noticeable silence, several harsh breaths from him, like he’s trying to find the air to find the words he says, “Today…I fucking hate today.”

“Yeah? Tell me why it sucks, baby.”

“I don’t—honey, I don’t really…it’s their anniversary. My parents. The Batemans,” He frowns, his voice laced with disgust.

“They weren’t good to you.”

“No, they weren’t. The only person who’s ever been good to me, is me. Until I met you,” He adds, his mouth curling up in a smile.

You squeeze his hand, resting your head on his shoulder. “Why their anniversary?”

“Fuck, sweetheart, really?”

“I just want to understand you. Let me carry it with you, Nathan. You’ve done it alone long enough don’t you think?”

“Alright,” He says, his voice much harder than he means for it to be. He clears his throat, squeezes your hand in apology, and repeats, “Alright. I’m a fucking pipsqueak. I mean small, tiny, maybe like 6 or 7. It’s their anniversary and like a fucking chump, I make them a card. It takes all day. All fucking day, honey and I—“

“You what?” You encourage him gently.

“I was so fucking excited. Buzzing with it. Vibrating. Used their favorite colors, drew us all together like we were one big happy fucking family. And when I…when I gave it to them...” Nathan trails off, shaking his head. He leans further into you, desperate for some safety, some warmth so that he can keep going. Keep showing you like you want.

“They’re scum, I mean who talks to a fucking kid like that? It wasn’t fucking Picasso so it was trash. They shit all over it and I…from that day on it was like I decided to be the bigger asshole. I had to hate them more than they hated me.”

“You deserve so much better than that Nathan. Then and now, and every moment in between. I’m sorry, baby.”

“Yeah, I don’t know,” He shrugs, running a hand over his face.

You reach for it, pushing it away so that you can cup his jaw, turn his gaze towards yours. “Then I’ll know for us. You trust me don’t you?”

Nathan’s eyes are misty, and you can tell that he’s fighting to hold his tears in. He nods, smiles a little, “With the codes to the nukes, baby.”

“Then trust me with your heart too. I promise I’ll always cherish it.”

“God, you—you’re out of this fucking world.”

“Yeah, I love you too,” You tease with a grin.

“I was gonna say that. Where’s that patience you hound me about?” He asks, pulling you into his lap so that you’re straddling him. His hands rub at your hips tenderly, reverently.

“Misplaced,” You quip, looping your arms around his neck. “Will you do something for me?”

“Anything.”

“For my birthday…make me a card?”

“Honey—“

You lean in, eyes wide and round, pressing your mouth against his as you murmur, “Please? I want it. It’s the only thing I want…well cake.”

“Don’t forget obedience.”

“You’ll give that to me anyway. Please, Nathan?”

He knows that the moment you want something, if its in his power, it’s yours. And Nathan can certainly make you a card with his bare hands. It’s one of the easiest, smallest things you’ve ever asked him for.

“Alright, fine, sure thing.”

“Do you have crayons?”

He laughs. “Do I look like a guy who owns fucking crayons?”

“We’re going to Michael’s— get dressed.”

“You’re pushing it.”

“It’s what I do. Showered, dressed. I’ll make some breakfast.”

“Hey,” He calls after you, reaching for your hand as you turn to walk away.

“Mhmm?”

“I love you,” He says firmly, bringing your hand up to his mouth.

“Ditto, baby.”

nathan taglist: @missdictatorme, @runa-falls, @campingwiththecharmings, @toracainz, @steven-grants-world, @clemdango04, @jdbxws, @crispysublimecupcake, @sub-aro, @faretheeoscar, @cupidysm, @whentheskyispinkandabitblue, @nova-ivy541, @sparkypantelones, @veritable-trash, @mangoslushcrush, @thhriller, @tenderhornynihilist, @queerponcho, @redcake333, @reallyrallyauthor

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milkypompon · 6 hours

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How do you manage to make the dirtiest jokes out of every conversation?! It’s a skill I seek to learn 😔💕

Nathan Bateman- Assembly Required

Summary: Nathan Bateman is maybe the smartest man in the world. But that doesn’t mean he has the common sense that god gave a can of green beans.

Content: Language, fluff, gn!reader (~1.1k) From Rally: I don’t know how this ended up with no smut. I surprised myself.

-------------

Crash

“Fuuuuuuck.”

Bang

“Fucking cunt.”

The third crash makes you push back from your desk and head out into the hallway to look for Nathan. You hear something metal slam into concrete and you almost hit the panic button on the wall. But then a wrench and a hammer fly out of the door at the end of the hallway. It’s used mostly for storage, but there’s a light coming out of the open door.

“There’s something wrong with this thing you ordered,” Nathan yells from the storage room, and at the top of his lungs.

“I’m coming,” you say loudly. “Don’t throw anything. I’m not sure a life flight would come all the way out here if you threw a screwdriver into my head.”

“All the robots have medical programming,” he says, like that’s the point.

Nathan is sitting on the floor in bare feet, his workout clothes still on. He’s rubbing his hands over his face and beard. He’s surrounded by flat, white, pieces of wood. Screws everywhere. A toolbox, half-empty from his temper tantrum. Not a robot in sight.

You lean on the doorway. “What is all of this?”

He gives you a killing look, points to a big box on the far wall.

Okay. Now you understand. A laugh escapes you before you can stop it. You clap your hand over your mouth.

Nathan sits up straight. “You fucking laugh and I’m making you go on a 20 mile hike with me. I’m serious.”

You press your lips together and nod. “Mmm-hmm.”

He picks up a tiny allen wrench and twirls it in his fingers. “This is your goddamned fault. I’m a fucking genius and you know it,” he says bitterly. “This shit is a waste of my time.”

“Mmm-hmm,” you say, not trusting yourself with words. You go over to the cardboard box and look inside. You reach into the empty box and pull out the one sheet of paper. It doesn’t even have words, just pictures. A step-by-step guide to putting together an Ikea bookshelf.

“I don’t need that,” Nathan says darkly.

You show him the sheet as you walk back to him. “Look, the little guy’s smiling and everything.”

He snatches it out of your hand. “I’ll take that and wipe my ass with it tomorrow morning.”

“Drama queen,” you say in a sing-song voice.

“I’m going to bend you over this fucking bookshelf, sweetheart, and you’ll sing whatever song I tell you,” he says with a mocking smile.

“I don’t think you will, Bateman. It would probably collapse before you even got my pants around my ankles.”

His smile disappears. He looks around at the mess he’s sitting in. He pushes up his glasses. “If we throw out all the fucking books you brought, then we don’t need a new Nardfall or Fjorddick or whatever stupid-ass name they give this shit.”

You sit down on the ground next to him, pushing aside random fasteners and now-chipped painted shelves. “Just let me do it,” you say.

He lays a hand on your thigh. “Sweetie, do you know what I told MIT when they denied me admission because I scared the interviewers with my theories on the singularity?”

“Weren’t you like, 12 years old then?”

“I told them: I don’t need you. I’ll do it myself. And I founded Blue Book before I was 20. So fuck MIT and fuck you.”

He picks up a shelf and starts, very randomly, trying to line it up with other pieces.

“Didn’t you go to MIT?”

“Yeah, I made them beg me to attend.” He snaps his hand back from the wood, then hurls it across the room. It crashes into the concrete and splits in half. “I jammed my fucking finger. Damn it. Do you know the things these hands do? I need a drink.”

“Okay, no more shelf,” you say. You pick up his hand and look at the reddened tip of his index finger.

“I build artificial intelligence,” Nathan explains to you. “Right down the hall.”

“I know,” you say soothingly. “I don’t think you did much damage. Looks like it hurts, though.”

You pop his finger in your mouth and gently feel the tip with your tongue.

His eyes widen, pupils dilating. His mouth drops open slightly as you start sucking.

You release his finger from your mouth and kiss the tip. “Had to get your mind off the pain. Is that not in your robots’ medical training?”

“They’d just give me ibuprofen I think. Might have to program your method in.” He stands up, pulling you with him, seemingly done with the entire project.

He kicks pieces out of the way as you both leave the room.

“I think you almost had it,” you say.

Nathan looks at you with narrowed eyes. “Lie to me again, and I’m making a paddle out of that wood. Spank your ass raw with it.”

You roll your eyes. You stop him at the doorway and take his shoulders to turn him back around. “Look, see the way you arranged the pieces? That’s basically how it goes together. You were just too close to see it.”

He turns his head one way, then the other. He slings an arm around your shoulders, pulling you away and into the hall. “You did that. I might not be able to build a piece of crap bookshelf, but I have eyes.”

You didn’t think he’d noticed. He has more of a sense of humor about his ego than you’d thought he would, but it doesn’t mean he wants to be placated. You try sometimes, though. Just to see if it would make him feel better. But honesty always seems to work best.

He takes the instructions from where he’d shoved them in the back of his shorts and crumples it up. He tosses it at one of the robots as they walk by.

“Go do this,” Nathan says dismissively. He puts his hands on your hips, spinning you to face the robot as it walks away.

He leans in close to your ear, nipping it playfully. “I built that. Without an instruction manual.”

You kiss him on the mouth, and he shrugs you off, grumpy. But he leans into your second kiss, almost smiling.

There has never been anyone as genius as Nathan. And you love him for it. And he loves you.

You wonder how long it will take him to figure out that you were fucking around. You’d had a bookcase shipped weeks ago with the rest of your stuff, and had taken a few extra pieces and slipped them into the box Nathan had sent to the house. You thought he would've seen through it in a heartbeat. But no.

He was weirdly gullible in some ways.

All that problem-solving, all that logic. But blind to his one weakness. You.

**masterlist**

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milkypompon · 15 hours

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The Baby Dream

Summary: You tend to have "the baby dream" every once in a while, but you never really mentioned it to your boyfriend Marc let alone had a conversation about having a baby with him in general. You tell him about the one you just had this time.

Warnings: not really anything real to warn about other than the reader's character feels a little sad when they find out that their baby was only something in their dream. Implied afab reader and implied that they breastfeed their baby.

Author’s Snip: I have a mix of baby fever and recently had a baby dream of my own so I decided to use that as a prompt.

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

Word Count: 618

Taglist: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction (you too can join my tag list, just ask)

The sound of a small soft grunt and whine wakes you right up. The morning sun breaches through the bedroom curtains and gives the room a soft lighting that makes the room visible without burning your still sleepy eyes. You look around for a bit, finding Marc still asleep and snoring softly. You sit up in bed and find the source of the noise, seeing a crib in the corner of the room along the wall.

Oh, looks like Mel's awake. Who's Mel? You and Marc's baby daughter of course!

You get up, careful not to wake Marc since he dealt with her waking up and crying in the middle of the night. Walking over to her crib, you look down and see her look back at you with her cute little eyes. They look just like the boys', all big and doe-like.

You scoop her up and out of her crib and cradle her in your arms. You feel her weight in your arms along with her squirming slightly to get comfortable.

"Good morning," you softly coo, "How'd you sleep? Huh?" you ask her. Of course, she can't answer, but judging that she didn't wake up crying like she usually does when she's had trouble sleeping, she slept just fine. Mel's tiny hands grip your pajama shirt. "I see we want breakfast now," you comment in response to her grabbing.

You walk back to the bed so that you can be comfortable while you feed her, but when you're supposed feel yourself sit, you wake up.

The room looks just the same, say for the fact that Marc is in the act of getting up out of bed this time. "Oh shit, sorry, hun. Did I wake you up?" Marc asks. You shake your head and carefully sit up and look towards the corner where Mel's crib was, but there's nothing there. No crib or baby...

Right. You don't have a baby together. It was just another baby dream that you have occasionally. You feel a bit of weight in your chest at the fact that you and Marc's baby girl wasn't real. Even though she only existed in your dream for a moment it felt so real. Like you actually had her and took care of her.

You realize that you're starting to tear up and shake off the feeling. "Sorry, I just had a dream," you explain. "Do you want to talk about it?" Marc gently asks. You take a moment and then a breath. "We had a baby," you say, "That was it. We had a baby together and I woke up to her waking up and I held her for a bit before I actually woke up." you explain further. "It's a normal thing. I have dreams where I have a baby from time to time." you mention.

Marc just look at you for a second. You look towards him to see what has him so quiet. He has that look on his face when he's thinking about something and trying to choose his words. You let him do his thinking before he finally speaks. "Do... you want a baby?" he asks.

"Yes?" you say, unsure yourself. "I don't know. It's sort of a hormone thing, like baby fever," you say. "We've never really had that talk before, I know. So I don't know if you want to have kids," you mention. "Okay, but do you want to have kids someday?" Marc rephrases his question. "Yeah. I'd like to have a family with you someday when we're ready." you answer.

Marc nods. "Yeah..." he says, "I think that would be a good conversation to have sometime soon." he adds with a slight smile.

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milkypompon · 15 hours

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(Updated: 4/25/24)

🔞This blog contains mature content. Minors, please DNI.🔞

i am no longer doing a taglist. please follow @charmingupdates for updates and turn on notifications.

i do take requests, but i can't promise i'll respond quickly lol. just drop me an ask if you want to send me one. 😘 **requests are closed until all fic-aversary prompts have been answered**

comments and reblogs make my day. 💖

Latest works: Never Let Me Go (Jake Lockley x Reader) | Some Like it Hot (Firefighter!Poe Dameron x Photographer!F!Reader) | Honey Trap (Marc Spector x F!Reader)

AO3 | FF.NET | FIC RECS |⭐FIC-AVERSARY |🌙MK BINGO

POE DAMERON (STAR WARS)

SANTIAGO GARCIA (TRIPLE FRONTIER)

MARC SPECTOR (MOON KNIGHT)

JAKE LOCKLEY (MOON KNIGHT)

MIGUEL O'HARA (SPIDER-MAN: ATSV)

JOEL MILLER (THE LAST OF US)

CAPTAIN SWAN (OUAT)

MISC.

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milkypompon · 15 hours

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(Updated: 4/8/24)

✨ = author's personal faves.

❤️‍🔥 = explicit/mature content (usually f!reader unless otherwise noted)

main masterlist | AO3 | FF.NET

Some Like it Hot ❤️‍🔥

All Your Fault

Slow it Down ❤️‍🔥

Undone ❤️‍🔥

Wasted On You ❤️‍🔥

Morning ❤️‍🔥

Soothe ❤️‍🔥

Vocal ❤️‍🔥

Fever

Invisible String ✨| addendums: first "date"

Trussed ❤️‍🔥

Out of Time ✨❤️‍🔥

Hush ✨❤️‍🔥 One | Two | Three

All About That Bass

Midnight

Stuck ❤️‍🔥

Never Have I Ever ✨

Happy Accidents

A Sunday Kind of Love ✨❤️‍🔥

Oblivious ❤️‍🔥

Shut Up and Kiss Me

The Remedy ✨

Five Minutes ❤️‍🔥

Get Lucky ❤️‍🔥

Love is a Game (For Fools to Play) | closet scene (Poe's POV)

Misc.: Poe/FO!Reader with runa-falls

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milkypompon · 2 days

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In Plain Sight

summary: for someone who’s all about AI, blanks stares and obedient droids, your likeness to them is driving him crazy.

pairing: nathan bateman x f!reader

general contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, enemies to lovers (sorta), boss/employee dynamics, illusions to emotionally abusive parents, nathan has low self-esteem and is avoidant af, mentions of caretaking/sick family members, fluff, angst, pining (nathan’s a simping asshole), eventual smut

AN: for the love of god please be nice to me, this is my first (and probably only) time writing for Nathan. i’ve only seen the movie once. tags will get more specific by chapter.

oscar characters masterlist

MAIN STORY (current wc: 20,412)

Docile Pyre

A Hoard of Cupids*

The Tempest

Prenups, Chess & Puppy Dog Eyes*

To Atomize*

THE CONTINUATION (current wc: 4,555)

Family Dinner (3 months post Ch:5)

Tiana (3 months post Family Dinner)

The Indoctrination of Nathan Bateman

Planted*

Little Hamlet*

STOLEN MOMENTS

Memory Lane (1.5 years post Ch:4)

The Move

HEADCANONS

Getting a pet

let me know if you’d like to be tagged (must be 18+)

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milkypompon · 2 days

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Nathan Bateman- Assembly Required

Summary: Nathan Bateman is maybe the smartest man in the world. But that doesn’t mean he has the common sense that god gave a can of green beans.

Content: Language, fluff, gn!reader (~1.1k) From Rally: I don’t know how this ended up with no smut. I surprised myself.

-------------

Crash

“Fuuuuuuck.”

Bang

“Fucking cunt.”

“There’s something wrong with this thing you ordered,” Nathan yells from the storage room, and at the top of his lungs.

“I’m coming,” you say loudly. “Don’t throw anything. I’m not sure a life flight would come all the way out here if you threw a screwdriver into my head.”

“All the robots have medical programming,” he says, like that’s the point.

You lean on the doorway. “What is all of this?”

He gives you a killing look, points to a big box on the far wall.

Okay. Now you understand. A laugh escapes you before you can stop it. You clap your hand over your mouth.

Nathan sits up straight. “You fucking laugh and I’m making you go on a 20 mile hike with me. I’m serious.”

You press your lips together and nod. “Mmm-hmm.”

He picks up a tiny allen wrench and twirls it in his fingers. “This is your goddamned fault. I’m a fucking genius and you know it,” he says bitterly. “This shit is a waste of my time.”

“I don’t need that,” Nathan says darkly.

You show him the sheet as you walk back to him. “Look, the little guy’s smiling and everything.”

He snatches it out of your hand. “I’ll take that and wipe my ass with it tomorrow morning.”

“Drama queen,” you say in a sing-song voice.

“I’m going to bend you over this fucking bookshelf, sweetheart, and you’ll sing whatever song I tell you,” he says with a mocking smile.

“I don’t think you will, Bateman. It would probably collapse before you even got my pants around my ankles.”

You sit down on the ground next to him, pushing aside random fasteners and now-chipped painted shelves. “Just let me do it,” you say.

He lays a hand on your thigh. “Sweetie, do you know what I told MIT when they denied me admission because I scared the interviewers with my theories on the singularity?”

“Weren’t you like, 12 years old then?”

“I told them: I don’t need you. I’ll do it myself. And I founded Blue Book before I was 20. So fuck MIT and fuck you.”

He picks up a shelf and starts, very randomly, trying to line it up with other pieces.

“Didn’t you go to MIT?”

“Okay, no more shelf,” you say. You pick up his hand and look at the reddened tip of his index finger.

“I build artificial intelligence,” Nathan explains to you. “Right down the hall.”

“I know,” you say soothingly. “I don’t think you did much damage. Looks like it hurts, though.”

You pop his finger in your mouth and gently feel the tip with your tongue.

His eyes widen, pupils dilating. His mouth drops open slightly as you start sucking.

You release his finger from your mouth and kiss the tip. “Had to get your mind off the pain. Is that not in your robots’ medical training?”

“They’d just give me ibuprofen I think. Might have to program your method in.” He stands up, pulling you with him, seemingly done with the entire project.

He kicks pieces out of the way as you both leave the room.

“I think you almost had it,” you say.

Nathan looks at you with narrowed eyes. “Lie to me again, and I’m making a paddle out of that wood. Spank your ass raw with it.”

He takes the instructions from where he’d shoved them in the back of his shorts and crumples it up. He tosses it at one of the robots as they walk by.

“Go do this,” Nathan says dismissively. He puts his hands on your hips, spinning you to face the robot as it walks away.

He leans in close to your ear, nipping it playfully. “I built that. Without an instruction manual.”

You kiss him on the mouth, and he shrugs you off, grumpy. But he leans into your second kiss, almost smiling.

There has never been anyone as genius as Nathan. And you love him for it. And he loves you.

He was weirdly gullible in some ways.

All that problem-solving, all that logic. But blind to his one weakness. You.

**masterlist**

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milkypompon · 2 days

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Just an Anselm appreciation post

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milkypompon · 2 days

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Rally, I hope you know that I wait for you to post fics like a dog waiting for their owner. I swear to every divine being, it’s like a sweet treat

modern!leto atreides- sweeter with you

more of modern, sugar daddy Leto Atreides

Summary: You love to push the boundaries Leto sets. And he loves to let you. In fact, he loves everything about you. Part 1- Sweet Like

Contents: 🔥 18+ nsfw, p in v, masturbation (~4.7k)

-----

Leto crooks his finger at you. “Here.” He points down in front of him. “Now.”

He’s standing under the shade of the canopy at the front of the yacht. You walk over and stand in front of him.

He pushes his sunglasses up off his face and into his salt and pepper hair, slicked back and drying from his morning swim off the port side. His beard is a little longer and messier than he usually lets it get.

His face says that he doesn’t just want to see your bikini. He’s peeved about something.

Leto’s dark eyebrows form a V down to the lines in his forehead.

It’s the end of the trip, and your last bikini. They’ve been getting progressively smaller every day. Leto had to have noticed, but he hadn’t said anything.

You love to watch him watching you, though.

You’d saved this one for the couple of days back to Seattle. It’s a thin, shimmery gold material and barely exists at all. You play with the ruby earrings swinging from your ears.

“Sweetheart,” Leto says, his voice low and rough.

He looks you up and down with a cool gaze. From the top of your head to the kitten-heeled sandals on your feet. Leto’s shirt is unbuttoned and he has on dark swim trunks that stop mid-thigh.

He frowns slightly. “One of the PR reps called. You’ve had that thing on for 3 hours and there are already photos on the internet.”

You bite your lip. Leto doesn’t like to draw attention to himself, and by extension, you.

“You were on the upper deck making business calls. I had to go all the way to the front of the boat to lay down, or you wouldn’t have seen me.” You say innocently. “I only wore it for you.”

His frown flips up into the ghost of a smile.

Even now, his eyes are going over the curves of your body. His dark gaze lands on the shiny scrap of fabric that disappears between your legs.

He scratches the thick hair of his beard.

“I really shouldn’t let you get away with this shit,” he mumbles.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, feeling his sun-tanned skin and the beads of water from his swim.

“You can’t say no to me, Atreides,” you smile up at him.

Leto sighs lightly. He kisses your forehead. “Don’t start trouble and I won’t have to.”

He tips your head up, his face asking you to agree.

“Okay,” you say reluctantly. “So, should I go in and get a cover-up?”

His dark eyes sparkle. “You’re not covering up anything, baby.” His hands slide down to cup your ass. “We’ll both go inside. You put this excuse of a bikini on for me, you can take it off for me too.”

He moves you ahead of him so he can watch you walk down the hallway to the master.

You turn and lay down on the big bed, give him a sweet smile.

Leto shuts the door. Thirty minutes or three hours, the crew knows not to bother him when the door’s shut.

He takes off his shirt and trunks. Your eyes are fixed on the dark head of his cock.

“See something you like?” He asks.

You nod, swallowing the pool of spit that’s formed in your mouth. He takes himself in his hand and you reach out. Leto steps back.

You frown. “What, I don’t get to participate?”

He almost smiles, still working himself slowly, his fist stroking just his tip before he runs it down his thick shaft. “In that bikini, you look like the centerfold of every dirty magazine I ever jerked off to.”

“My God, you’re so old. Please tell me you use PornHub now.” You tease him.

He gives you a hot, annoyed look. “I don’t need porn. That’s what I have you for, right?”

You fight against your smile, not wanting to give into him too quickly.

Leto’s gaze drinks you in. You spread your legs more and his eyelids get heavier, his dark, brown eyes almost black.

“Let me see you,” he says in a breathy order.

As much as you’d like to keep teasing him, when he wants you like this, it makes you even needier. The two of you can’t get enough of each other, can’t be without each other, you make each other crazy.

So, you pull the center of your bikini bottoms aside so he can see you. Leto doesn’t say a word, but you know what he wants.

You play with yourself, fingers sliding along your wet slit, rubbing wetness onto your clit. You arch your back into your own fingers, pushing one in. Quickly, a second one joins it. Your fingers aren’t as thick as Leto’s. His muscled arms and hands, the way they drive you to the brink every time he shows you even a hint of his strength.

Your eyes drop closed as your hips writhe against your hand.

He’s standing right in front of you, not even touching you, but you still moan Leto’s name when you come. Begging for his touch as your body tightens, barely able to orgasm without him. It’s almost cruel, how soft you come with Leto watching.

You feel his weight join you on the bed and open your eyes. Leto pulls your hand away from your dripping wet cunt and closes his mouth around your fingers, his tongue licking and swirling over every single spot.

He dips his head down to nip at your breasts, pushing the material aside to get to your nipples. His beard rubs your skin, making you extra sensitive.

Leto tugs the strings of your bikini bottoms, pulling the material away from your body.

“Put me inside of you, sweetheart,” he says, biting along your neck.

You run your hand down his warm, smooth skin and wrap your hand around him as best as you can from this angle. He’s so hot, so hard, you can’t help but smile as you set the soft head of his cock against you.

You wiggle your hips, a laugh escaping you. “You have to help me a little, Leto. Come on.”

Leto lifts his head. “How bad do you want it?”

Your walls clench, just thinking about him. “So bad, Leto. Please.” You give him the big eyes that you know he’s weak for. “Fill me up.”

He groans, like you knew he would. You lift your head and lick his lips.

“Leto,” you say quietly, drawing out his name from your mouth.

“Mmm?” He says, his long eyelashes fluttering up to show you his huge, dark eyes.

You tease your teeth along his bottom lip. Leto’s eyelids get heavy again.

“You gonna ruin me?”

“Fuck, baby, you want me to?” He looks over your face, down to where his hands are cupping your breasts, massaging them. “You’re so sweet. Beautiful. You want it hard?”

You nod as you feel him push inside you easily. His beautiful lips part as he enters you. Your eyes glaze over from deep he is already, how stretched open you are without any preparation for him. But it feels amazing.

He waits for you to look him in the eyes, silently asking for more. He holds your waist in his hands, keeping you steady as he starts pulling and pushing, snapping his hips hard against yours.

“You look so hot in your little bikinis,” he says into your neck between wet kisses and his teeth catching your skin. “Just asking me to fuck you all the time, aren’t you?”

You wrap your legs higher, up around his hips. Your hands find your way up to his curly hair and you hold on tightly. Your walls clench around him, Leto canting his hips to hit that one, brain-melting spot deep inside of you. You can’t even keep your eyes open, overwhelmed by the driving force of his cock and his filthy praise.

He doesn’t let up until you’re coming so hard you feel like you’re going to snap in half, until your nails are digging into his scalp and back, deep in his sweaty skin. Until you’re so tight, he can only rock himself inside of you. Both of you shaking, you from the orgasm that’s straining every nerve in your body, and Leto from trying to keep you from dragging him with you.

Leto’s breathing in your ear, fucking you hard, his body pressing you down into the mattress. You lock your teeth onto his earlobe and he gasps.

“Just like that, baby, fuck. You feel how wet you are?” Leto’s words are short and gravely.

“Make me wetter. Come in me, Leto, please. Wanna feel it,” you say, tongue and teeth tracing his ear.

“You’re fucking amazing.” He buries himself deep and sits up, holding your hips to his so you can see his gorgeous chest and long chain he wears around his neck, and he can see you play with your nipples, twisting and pulling them.

His thrusts start to stutter, the sound of him slamming into you echoing in the bedroom.

“Look,” he orders you, “watch me fuck you, baby.”

You obey, watching the way his cock goes in and out between your legs. You grab onto his forearms.

“That’s it. There you go, sweetheart. One more time, come on.” Leto releases one of his hands and uses his thumb to flick your clit. You come again in a flood of wetness and brainless moaning, tightening around Leto as he pumps you full of himself.

You watch the muscles of his neck strain and flex under his beard, his face going taut. More beautiful than anything you’ve ever seen. Prettier than diamonds, your Leto.

He opens his eyes as he comes down from his orgasm, watching you run your hands up his chest as he gets his breath back.

A relaxed smile curves on his lips.

“You’re so easy,” you tease him. “One slutty bikini and you can’t control yourself.”

Leto leans down and kisses your forehead. “True. But don’t forget, the person in the bikini is also slutty.”

You laugh, swatting his chest. “It took a week and a half, but you finally made a joke. Now that the vacation is practically over.”

He rests his forehead against yours. “I wasn’t joking.”

You both laugh, both reluctant for Leto to pull out of you, to leave the bed, and go back to real life.

*****

Seattle is gray and drizzly. Just how you like it.

Leto wraps his arms around you from behind as you approach the dock.

He kisses the side of your head.

“This coat looks better on you,” he says, running his hands over the tan, cashmere fabric that you’d wrapped around yourself to disembark.

“I know,” you say, pushing up the too-long sleeves. “I’d like to tell you there’s nothing on under it, but that would be the kind of thing that gets me in trouble, right?”

He laughs quietly through his nose. “Knowing you, you’re in your underwear, just to be a brat.”

Leto runs one of his hands under the coat. He hums approvingly, nudging your head aside to kiss your neck.

“What if a gust of wind blows my coat open? What if everyone sees you wrapped up like a dirty present, hmm?” He says, letting his hand wander over your body.

You turn your head to kiss him, but only manage to land one on the soft hair of his beard. “All my clothes are packed up. I didn’t have anything to wear but this.”

You turn around and lean against the railing, opening the coat slightly so he can see the bodysuit that’s not much more than fine, cream-colored mesh and tiny, embroidered roses.

His nostrils flare as he looks down. His hands wrap around your waist, tracing up until he can make your nipples hard with his thumbs.

A slight shake of his head and Leto folds the coat around you snugly. With your thigh-high boots and his coat, you look perfectly respectable. You like to remind Leto, though, that you’re not.

He lifts your hand, still with the gigantic ring he gave you at the beginning of the trip, and kisses it.

He’s back to dark pants and a white button-down. You’d convinced him to leave a button or two undone, though, so you can look at his sun bronzed skin.

Every day had been sweet, being able to kiss that skin, seeing Leto let his guard down. You can already tell he has his ‘Leto Atreides powerful man’ walls back up.

“Matching earrings look nice,” he says, giving one of them a push with his finger so it catches the cloudy light and swings prettily.

“If you’d let me get my nipples pierced in Miami then you could have bought me more matching jewelry." You press your body up against him.

He licks his lips. “We had to get back to the boat. God, you’re impulsive.”

You laugh. “It’s not an impulse. I’m still doing it. And,” you loop your fingers into the waistband of his suit pants, “you’re going to love them.”

He bites his bottom lip, nodding in agreement. He steps away from you as a crew member appears around the corner to let you know they’ve started docking procedures.

Leto smooths his beard and offers you his arm. “I’ll call my jeweler and have something ready for when you get them done,” he says.

“If you make me nipple rings with the Atreides hawk, I’m never letting you near my boobs ever again,” you say, finding a pair of sunglasses in Leto’s coat pocket and sliding them onto your face.

Leto laughs. It’s one of the sounds you live for.

“Keep my coat closed,” Leto says as you walk down the ramp to the waiting car.

“I know. You’re such a nag.” You elbow him.

Leto closes his eyes in that way he does when he’s rolling them, but doesn’t want anyone to see that his patience isn’t completely infinite.

He’s back to his serious, serene self by the time he opens them again. “Keep it up and I’ll cancel the surprise I have waiting for you at the house.”

“Keep up your attitude, and you might never find out if this bodysuit is crotchless or not.” You slide into the car.

“Keep your voice down,” he reprimands you gently as he gets into the car next to you. He shuts the door. “We’re not in the middle of the ocean anymore where no one can hear your filthy mouth. And I know it’s crotchless. Because I know you.”

You snuggle up to him in the car.

“No,” he says looking at you patiently from the corner of one eye, “we have a stop to make in about ten minutes. Not enough time for whatever you’re planning with your hand.”

You pull your hand back down toward his knee.

“Are you working long enough for me to get a manicure?” You look down at your hand on his thigh.

“I’ll text my assistant and have someone come to the office for you. I have to sign a few documents, but I’m sure I’ll get pulled into four other things.”

His phone buzzes in his jacket pocket. He frowns.

“I’m sorry our vacation is over,” you say with feeling.

He kisses you quickly, then answers the phone with an impatient greeting, then tips his bearded chin at you, his eyes skimming down his coat. You lean back against the door, one of your legs up on the seat, and let the coat fall open.

He continues talking on the phone, not even in English anymore. Or maybe it is, but you stop paying attention once Leto’s hand parts your legs wider and he distracts you for the short ride downtown.

*****

Leto’s gigantic house is miles outside of the city. It predates you by many years, but he’s let you put your own touches on things, redo rooms when you want.

He’d been stuck at his office long enough for you to get a manicure, pedicure, and do some more damage to his credit card, but there’s nothing both of you need more than to go home.

A huge, modern, 3-story mansion shouldn’t feel cozy and warm. But it fits into the lush green landscape.

Leto asked his staff start fires in the fireplaces, light a couple of smelly, overpriced candles that you like, and turn on some lights.

You roll down the window of the car as you pull in.

Leto looks up from texting on his phone. “It’s freezing baby, put the window up.”

You lean your arms on the open window instead. “I’m happy we’re home.”

Leto’s big hand rubs up and down your back.

“Come on, let’s go inside,” he says.

“For my surprise?” You turn your head and smile at him.

He nods patiently and opens his door, taking your hand to pull you out behind him.

Leto looks you over as you stand up. “You have actual clothes on now,” he says.

You shrug. “You took so long I had time to pick up an outfit or two.”

“Mmm-hmm, one or two, I’m sure,” he says with a doubtful smile. He kisses the side of your head, his beard catching your hair.

You walk backwards up the walk, bugging him the whole time.

“What is it? You already expanded my closet a few months ago,” you say.

“We didn’t really need six extra bedrooms. Five are sufficient.”

“Did you have that chef I love make dinner?” You ask.

“As much as I love you, no. I don’t want brunch at seven in the evening.”

You sigh loudly. “It better not be another trip, Leto. We just got home.”

The door opens for you and Leto as you approach. The staff greet you and you hug them, much to Leto’s amusement.

“What?” You say. “They’re the only three people who are here full time. They let me grump about you and don’t tattle.”

Duncan Idaho, Leto’s head of security, appears with part of the luggage. “Sir? Everything’s set up in the dining room. And the forward team is finished at your requested location.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Duncan?”

He grins and holds his hands up. “If I tell you what he’s up to, I’m fired.”

“I thought we were friends,” you say, hands on your hips.

Duncan shakes his head. “If we were friends, you’d let me put a detail on you.”

“You worry too much. I’m not some precious asset under lock and key. I’m your friend. Or, apparently not. I’m your boss’s,” you pause, “whatever?”

Leto rests his hand on your lower back. “Thank you, Duncan. I can take it from here.”

You hand your coat off and let him lead you to the dining room. He pauses at the closed doors.

“Do you really feel like you’re my ‘whatever’?” He asks.

His voice and face are carefully neutral. He’s so good at it you want to ruffle his hair just to make him imperfect. You know behind that stern look is a hurricane of deep feelings.

“We kind of went from introductions to the back of your limo in like, two hours. But we’re still together, more than a year later. The rest doesn’t bother me. I’m happy. And I hope I make you happy. I cost you enough money,” you joke.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Leto says with a small smile.

He tips up your chin and kisses you the way he does behind closed doors.

You nuzzle into his beard, biting his bottom lip a little before his lips are so sunk into yours that you can’t even think. You run your hands up his dress shirt and around his neck, press in close to him.

“Baby,” he whispers against your lips, with a half step back, “if you want to bankrupt me, I’d let you do it with a smile on my face.”

Your cheeks feel warm from his intimate gaze, the way his fingers stroke your chin, just… him.

His dark, brown eyes shine at you as he works his bottom lip between his teeth, then opens the doors.

The long dining room table is set with a snacky kind of dinner. Bread and cheese, fruit, little veggie tarts and cured meats. A bottle of wine is chilling in a silver bucket.

The centerpieces are green and ferny, split by a huge, framed photograph laying flat on the table. You walk up and look at it.

“If you payed more than ten grand for this, I’m disappointed in you,” you say.

Leto pours the wine. “Why do you say that?”

You shrug. “It’s okay, but it’s really flat. And the colors are a little off. It should’ve been taken like, an hour or two before the sun got this low. Is it by someone famous?”

Leto shook his head. “Gurney took it.”

You laugh. “He’s a beautiful musician and has a memory for fancy quotes like a steel fucking trap, but an artistic eye, he does not have. I’ve never had a headache like seeing his tiger-print speedo and bright green sandals when we all went to Thailand together. Do you remember that? I was like-“ you pause. “I sound like an asshole. Okay. If he wants to be a photographer, then I’ll be supportive. I can be positive. Right?”

Leto raises a black eyebrow at you and sips his glass of wine. “I’m positive that your honesty is one of the best things about you. But no, sweetheart, Gurney’s not getting into photography.

“He has a house outside of Joshua Tree. He grew up out there, not that he likes to talk about it much, but a few hundred acres came up for sale near his place.”

“You hate the desert,” you say, leaning over the photograph.

“But you don’t,” Leto says. “I had that house built on the property. Gurney took that photo and sent it here. The land and house are both in your name.”

You turn your head, “what?”

“It’s yours, baby. Somewhere we can go when you want to wear sundresses and get a tan. Have a bbq with Gurney if the two of us can ever get the same weekend off.” He sets aside his wine and walks over to slide his arm around your waist. “I’ve been thinking lately, you’re giving me years of your life, your energy, your sunshine.”

You half-roll your eyes. “You say it like it’s some big sacrifice. You’re the most eligible bachelor on the planet. Probably on any planet.”

“Still,” Leto says, “I would hate for you to think I’d ever leave you with nothing.”

You hold up your hand, the emerald and diamond ring Leto had given you. “I’m wearing $3 million dollars and if you’re ever stupid enough to dump me, you’d better believe I’d never give it back. Any of it.”

He smiles dryly. “Smart ass.” He kisses your fingers. “It looks perfect on you, but it’s not an engagement ring. A woman as beautiful as you,” his words fade as he looks thoughtfully at your hand.

You untangle your fingers and switch them around so you can hold his hand up, the heavy ring he wears on the middle finger of his left hand staring at both of you.

“You’re married to this. I understand.” You kiss his fingers, as he’d kissed yours a few seconds ago. “Don’t get me wrong, your endless bank account is a rush, but I wouldn’t stay with you just because you’re stupid rich. I stay with you because you have the best cock I’ve ever let inside of me. A little longer and thicker than is actually comfortable, but the little bit of a stretch is perfect. It’s-“

Leto covers his face with the hand you’re not holding. You’re relieved to hear him laugh.

“Where in the hell do you come up with these things,” he says, still laughing.

You shrug. “Naturally dirty, I guess.”

Leto tilts his head and kisses you swiftly, hard. His hands slide around your waist, holding onto you tightly.

“And just so there’s no misunderstanding here,” he says, “I’m not a bachelor. Not anymore.”

“I just meant-“

“I know what you meant,” Leto says, his voice firm. “You think so little of me? That I would string you along? Treat you like a toy and not the sweetest part of my life?”

“No, Leto, of course not,” you say.

“I look forward to coming home to you from the very second I leave the house every morning.” His words are meant to reassure you, but they’re also true.

Everything he says and does is from his heart, something his family would rather he follow less.

You smile at him. “You’re so good with words, it’s criminal. I’m sorry for being dismissive about us. We love each other, and I know that won’t change.”

“Good,” he waits for your eyes to meet his, “I’m spoken for.”

Also, Leto never lies. He’s incapable.

Deception? Yes. Politics? Definitely.

But since the night you’d met him, you’d seen straight through his fancy suits and serious expression. You’d loved the heart of Leto Atreides right away.

“Well, I guess since you bought me a house and everything, it would be pretty tacky of me to try to keep things casual,” you say, teasing him.

Leto grins, the slight upturn at one corner of his mouth that always gets you a little bit hot.

“If you want to go out and rope some other sucker into single-handedly paying for Dior’s operating expenses with his credit card, sweetheart, go ahead and try to find him,” Leto says with a hint of a laugh in his tone.

“Wow,” you laugh, “you’re feisty tonight.”

You look down at the photograph, the sprawling one-story house in the desert. The colors blend in with the sand and sky. Huge, tangled cacti guard the front. It’s peaceful, stark.

Leto’s house here in Seattle will always be home, but you can already picture escaping to the desert after Christmas, or meeting Leto there when he has meetings in L.A.

The wardrobe you’re going to build around this house is going to be fuck-off good.

“Thank you,” you say.

“You’re welcome.” Leto says, finally sounding relaxed. Your hands massage the muscles at the back of his neck and he groans in pleasure.

“Why don’t we skip dinner?” You say. “We can take a bath together.”

You slide your fingers between Leto’s.

“Perfect,” he says. “I can’t wait to sleep in our own bed again.”

You hold his hand between both of yours as you wander back out, down the hallway and up the stairs.

“Are you super tired?” You ask, trying to make it sound like an off-hand question.

Leto chuckles under his breath. “Spoiled.”

“What? I was just asking,” you half-shrug.

“Sure you were, sweetheart. Not at all plotting to sit in my lap in that bath you want to take?”

“Can’t blame a girl for trying.” You open the bedroom door and pull him inside.

“You’re more demanding than any board of directors that I’ve ever stood in front of.” He grins, opening the bedroom door for you.

You heave a gigantic, loud sigh. “Well, if I’m so exhausting I guess I can pack my bags and have the plane take me to my new house in California tomorrow.”

“Okay, now you are actually acting spoiled,” Leto says, resting his hands on your hips to stop you from walking away.

“You know we’ve never had a fight?” You turn so you’re facing each other. “My last boyfriend and I broke up and got back together like, five times.”

“Your last boyfriend was an mma fighter who had no control over his emotions. He broke up with you before every big fight he had, and then came crawling back.”

“Oh yeah,” you remember. “I do love when men crawl, though. He had a horrible training schedule. Worked almost as much as you. Speaking of, I was thinking I could stop by your office tomorrow and we could have lunch together.”

You start undoing Leto’s shirt.

“I’d love that, baby, but I’m going to be slammed trying to catch up with everything,” he says.

“But we spent so much time together on vacation. You can’t just cut me off cold turkey. I’m used to your attention all day long now.”

Leto laughs. “You make a good point. Stop by around 2. I’ll make it work.”

You smile at him, playing with the tails of his shirt. “See? You give me everything I want.”

“I do,” Leto kisses your cheek. “You have me right where you want me.”

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milkypompon · 2 days

Text

steven grant- lipstick words

Summary: You find porn on Steven's computer, and you watch it together. (~1.8k)

Contents: 🔥 18+ nsfw, description of porn (video contains verbal and physical degradation, body writing, masturbation, p in v), watching porn together, fingering

part of @moonknight-events: MK spring ‘24 Bingo Event

-----

As far as you knew, Steven wasn’t big on porn.

He found it a bit silly. Unrealistic. He’d much rather play around with you in the bedroom.

Steven isn’t ashamed to try new things or toys. Always honest about his curiosity.

So, when you start up his laptop and the browser is already open to a porn site, you’re surprised. And when the video starts automatically playing, you’re kind of shocked. He’s never mentioned anything like this before.

You’re torn between not wanting to embarrass him by asking about it, and hurt. Does he feel like he has to hide something that turns him on?

It takes you a few nights to work up the courage. Your opportunity comes on Tuesday documentary night. He gets a bowl of popcorn and sits on the couch.

You set Steven’s laptop on the stack of books you keep on the coffee table for better viewing.

Then, you turn and point to Steven’s lap. “That seat taken?”

Steven grins. “All yours, love.”

You push his legs apart with your hands and settle between them, so your back is to him. You feel him get half-hard just from that. You lean forward to wake up the computer and you hear Steven inhale.

One of his hands touches the sliver of skin between your t-shirt and pajama bottoms, running up underneath and over your back.

He wraps his other arm around you. “Maybe put on something we’ve seen before, yeah? Don’t think I’ll care about watching anything with you sitting so close like this.”

You run your finger over the trackpad, clicking until you find the video you had in mind.

“You might be interested in this.” You hit play and sit up, nestling back against Steven’s warm body.

His hands slide up your thighs, up and up, as he nuzzles his lips against your neck.

The man’s voice in the video freezes Steven’s body completely.

“What does it say on your stomach?” A man’s voice asks.

“Whore,” a woman answers, breathless.

Steven’s body jerks forward, his arm reaches out for the laptop, but you hold him back.

“I want to watch this one,” you say to Steven.

“No, you don’t have to. I thought maybe I’d left it up on accident the other day. It was from before you and I got together,” he says. His words are muffled from behind his hand over his mouth.

On the laptop screen, the video is shaky. Clearly homemade. A woman lays naked on a bed. A man holds a tube of red lipstick, already having written a few things on her smooth skin.

You take Steven’s hand away from his face and set it on the elastic waistband of your pajama pants.

The man writes ‘slut’ on the inside of the woman’s thigh. Steven gets immediately hard, a steel rod against your back.

His fingers play with your stomach, just catching the elastic.

“We can turn this off if you like,” Steven says. “I don’t need it.”

His tone, though, says he’s turned on. That he wants to keep going. You lean your head back slightly. You can still see, but your head is against Steven’s neck.

“You like it, though. We can watch it together,” you say.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he says.

You reach out and pause the video. You turn slightly in his lap. Steven’s face is a little red.

“Hey,” you say, waiting until he looks at you. “What kind of porn you watch is your business. I’m a horrible person for violating your privacy. I'm really sorry."

His big, dark eyes widen. “No, love, don’t feel bad, please. I told you to use my computer whenever you like. Maybe,” he bites his bottom lip thoughtfully, “I unconsciously left the porn up for you to find. It’s not really our kind of thing, this. You’re the greatest treasure in the world and I, I-“

He clamps his lips shut to stop his stuttering.

You hold his face in your hands, kiss him softly on the lips. Relief floods over you when Steven wraps his arms around you and kisses you back.

“We can watch that documentary about the domestication of fish.” You kiss the end of his nose. “Or, we can finish what we started. It’s completely up to you.”

Steven rests his forehead against yours, eyes boring into you. “You don’t think less of me, then? Or think that I think less of you?”

That brings a smile out of you. He's so sweet, so willing to put you first. You want to do the same for him.

“No, Steven, of course not. It’s a kink. It’s porn. Those are two safe places for us because we love each other. It's like when we role play that thing where you're the archeologist and I'm the artifact you uncover in the desert. It's fun and hot. We don't have to analyze it. I think it could be like that."

Steven’s breath is warm over your lips. His gaze goes from owlish and searching, to heated. Excited.

“Go on then, press play,” he says with a smile.

You resume your position and start the video. Steven pulls you back tightly against him. His hand is between your legs immediately, rubbing you over the cloth of your pants.

The man in the video draws an arrow on the inside of the woman’s thigh, right up to the apex.

As the woman’s hand starts to touch her clit, Steven’s hand dives into your pants and he does the same to you. Your breath catches, hips thrusting against nothing, trying to get Steven to rub you harder. The woman moans, one finger dipping into her wet cunt.

“Steven, please,” you say. You rub yourself back on his hard length.

His lips suck on the nape of your neck, right where it meets your shoulder.

“You want my fingers, love?” He practically whispers.

The sound of the woman moaning and Steven’s thick fingers teasing your entrance are already driving you crazy.

“Touch me, Steven,” you say.

“I am.” You hear the smile in his voice.

“No,” you whine as he puts pressure on the outside of your wet hole, “inside. Please.”

The very tip of Steven’s middle finger parts your lips. He drags it along your wetness, flicks through quickly. You moan, hips searching for more.

“I’ll give you my fingers, love, if you read what’s written on her thighs. Open your eyes. Watch,” he says. His breath tickles your neck and makes you shiver.

One of your hands snakes up and into Steven’s hair. You grip his curls, doing as he says.

“It says, ‘cum here,’” you say.

Steven’s finger moves a fraction inside of you and you throw your head back on his shoulder.

“Why d’you think it says that?” Steven asks. He traces his tongue up the side of your neck and sucks your earlobe into his mouth.

You sigh loudly. “Be- because, oh God, Steven, more, please.”

His finger withdraws. The woman in the video moans. Your barely open eyes see the man toss the lipstick aside and position himself between her thighs. His hands grip the words he’s written, already smearing them.

“She wants it,” you say. “She wants him to fuck her.”

Two of Steven’s fingertips push inside of you and you moan in relief.

As the man in the video moves his hips, entering the woman in one hard thrust, Steven’s thick fingers push into you, stretching you out and massaging your walls.

You ride the thrust of his fingers, Steven’s other hand working into your pants so he can play with your clit.

The man in the video picks up speed, fucking into the woman harder now. Her thighs grip his, smears of red lipstick all over both of their legs.

Steven fingers you hard and fast, timing everything to the video you can’t take your eyes off of. When the woman comes, screaming and begging, the man loses control, pulling her body tight against his so he can come deep inside of her. Steven finds the hard nub of you clit and works it with his thumb, pushes a third finger into you, knowing it’ll push you over the edge.

Your thighs seize, walls squeezing Steven’s fingers as you grab onto him and come so hard you see stars behind the darkness of your shut-tight eyelids. You feel a gush of liquid between your legs as your hips snap upward, Steven biting softly at your neck as you shake and sob.

He lets you come down gently, easing his fingers away from your clit and giving your sensitive walls slow strokes until you can breathe again. You relax against him, both of his hands reluctantly leaving your pants.

You turn your head, dazed, and kiss his cheek. Steven turns his head and you kiss his mouth, tongues lazily playing with each other. Your hand is still in his hair and you hold his face close to yours.

“Video’s over, love,” Steven says. His eyes are bright and there’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead. “You did so good f’me. Gods, you were beautiful.”

“That was amazing,” you smile. “Can we move this to the bed?”

“Yeah, of course,” he says. He helps you stand up on shaky legs.

You hug him hard. “I love you,” you say.

He kisses the side of your head. “I love you too. More than anything. Thank you for doing that with me.” He holds your chin so he can look you in the eyes. “Next time we’ll use a dirty video you like, yeah?”

You nod. “Sounds good.” A laugh bubbles out of you. You cover your mouth until it stops. But the big smiles stays on your face. “You would like porn with words in it, Steven.”

He chuckles, gives your bottom a light smack. “Guess it’s not really a surprise, is it? I only have a few videos saved actually, even though they’re some of my favorites. People are terrible spellers these days. ‘Pussy’ with just one ‘S,’ or ‘whore’ without the ‘h.’ Boner killer, those types of spelling errors.”

You laugh together until you have tears in your eyes.

Steven takes your hand and leads you toward the bed. He kisses you, pushing up your shirt to play with your breasts. You take it the rest of the way off and throw it aside. Steven looks down at your chest.

“You know,” you say, “I have a shade of red lipstick just like the one in the video.”

You lean in and kiss him. His lips are warm and soft. He kisses you deeply. Then, his fingers curl around your sides and he pulls away.

Steven’s breath goes shaky. “Oh, love,” he whispers. “You’re going to look a beautiful mess when I’m through with you.”

-----

Square G "Pornography"

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