#and if you feel ignored then just send your request to someone else

[darkintothedawn]

stiles sneakin into ur window at night bc he refuses to use the front door and wake everyone up

DRAIN PIPE || Stiles Stilinski 'Teen Wolf'

Pairing — Stiles Stilinski x Gender Neutral reader

Summary — Stiles is climbing into your window and causing a mess, it's late and you're tired and you just don't want to deal with it. The morning is better, with all traces of annoyance gone, until Stiles' dad is screaming for him outside and you're instead confessing to your mother that you were the one who called him over.

Memo— I'm sorry if this isn't exactly what you wanted, I genuinely couldn't figure out how to start this to begin with for a while. Thank you for the request of course and if you did want something different or if someone wants something similar you can always send another ask! I do hope you like this, anon.

Word Count — 3741

Warnings — Fluff. Mild annoyance. Puppy dog Stiles.

Your room is dimly lit by the glow of your phone screen, the only source of light as you lay sprawled out on your bed. The house is quiet, the kind of stillness that only settles in when everyone else is asleep, leaving you alone with the soft hum of your thoughts—and Stiles blowing up your phone.

Stiles: You up? Stiles: Wait, ofc you are. You literally just opened this. Stiles: Soooooo Stiles: What if I was dying? And you ignored me? How would you feel? You: I’d be mildly inconvenienced but ultimately fine. Stiles: Rude. Disrespectful. Hurtful, even. You: You’re not dying. Stiles: Not physically, but emotionally? Spiritually? Maybe even mentally? You: Sounds like a you problem. Stiles: Wow. Ok. Ice cold. Where’s the love?

You shake your head, biting back a smile as you toss your phone onto your chest. It’s always like this with Stiles—constant, clingy, and so unapologetically him. And you don’t mind, not really. If anything, his ridiculous messages have become a staple of your nights, filling the silence with his chaotic energy even from a distance.

Your fingers hover over the keyboard, about to hit send on another sarcastic reply, when your phone buzzes again.

Stiles: What if I was outside your window right now?

You scoff, rolling your eyes. You: I’d tell you to stop being creepy and go to bed.

The typing bubble pops up, then disappears. A pause. Then—

Stiles: Bold of you to assume I’d listen.

Before you can respond, there’s a soft thud outside your window.

Your heart stutters.

Another sound—this time a muffled curse, followed by the unmistakable scrape of sneakers against the siding of your house.

You freeze. No. No way.

Slowly, you sit up, eyes locked on the window. A shadow moves outside, just beyond the glass.

You don’t even think. You launch yourself toward the curtain, yanking it back, and—

Yep.

There he is.

Stiles Stilinski, clinging to the edge of your windowsill like some kind of sleep-deprived raccoon, his hoodie askew and his expression caught somewhere between triumph and regret.

"Hey," he whisper-yells, flashing you a lopsided grin. "Fancy meeting you here."

You stare at him, unimpressed. "Are you serious?"

"Would you believe me if I said no?"

You push the window up just enough to glare at him properly. "Do I even want to ask how you got up here?"

"Uh—" He looks down for the first time, then back at you, his grin faltering. "So, funny story… Turns out your drainpipe is not, in fact, built for weight-bearing activities. Who knew?"

You follow his gaze to the slightly bent metal, your jaw tightening. "You're the reason it looks like that?"

"Technically, gravity is to blame, but sure, pin this on me."

You press a hand to your forehead, exhaling through your nose. "You have got to stop doing this."

"And yet," he says, shifting his grip and hoisting himself higher, "Here I am."

"Yeah, and I’m starting to question why I keep letting this happen."

"You don't let it happen," he corrects, grunting as he swings a leg over the sill. "I make it happen."

Before you can protest, he somehow manages to wriggle through the window with all the grace of a drunken deer, knocking into the curtain and nearly toppling your bedside lamp. He lands on your floor with a soft oof, sprawled out on his back, staring at the ceiling like he’s just run a marathon.

"That was exhausting," he groans. "You should really consider moving to a ground-floor bedroom."

"You should really consider knocking on the front door," you retort, crossing your arms.

Stiles scoffs, propping himself up on his elbows. "Okay, yeah, and then what? I wake your parents up? They already think I’m a bad influence—if I show up at your front door in the middle of the night, they’d never let me stay over again."

You blink at him. "Stiles. They wouldn’t let you stay over now."

He pauses, then clicks his tongue. "That’s fair."

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. "So, let me get this straight—you climbed up the side of my house, almost fell to your death, broke my drainpipe, and risked getting caught all so you could not wake my parents?"

"When you say it like that, it sounds kinda dumb."

"It is dumb."

He grins. "Yeah, but, like… dumb in a charming way, right?"

You roll your eyes, nudging his foot with yours. "No, dumb in a dumb way."

He gasps, pressing a hand to his chest like you've just mortally wounded him. "You wound me. Really. I don’t think I’ll ever recover from this betrayal."

"Yeah, well, actions have consequences."

Stiles flops back onto the floor with a dramatic sigh. "Fine. I see how it is. You don’t appreciate me. I’m just some guy, risking life and limb to see you, and for what? Disrespect?"

"For a concussion, probably," you mutter.

He watches you from the floor, his expression softer now, less exaggerated dramatics, more something real. "You’re not actually mad, though. Right?" He stands up when he talks, almost as if he's ready to spring out the window if you are.

You hesitate, then sigh, flopping down onto your bed. "No. But I should be."

"Yeah," he agrees, grinning. "You should be. But you’re not. Because deep, deep down, you love that I do this."

You lift your head just enough to squint at him. "Love is a strong word."

He smirks. "You tolerate that I do this?"

You huff, shaking your head. "That’s more accurate."

And honestly? It is. Because at the end of the day, this is just… Stiles. Sneaking in through your window like a delinquent, making himself at home on your floor, filling your nights with his restless energy.

And despite how much you should be annoyed, how much you should tell him to stop—

You know you’d miss it if he ever did.

You shake your head, still lying on your bed as Stiles lingers in the middle of your room, looking awkward in a way that’s almost endearing—hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, shoulders slightly hunched, like he’s suddenly unsure what to do now that he’s actually here.

You watch him for a second, then sigh. "Okay, so—why are you here?"

He shifts on his feet, glancing around your room like the answer might be hiding in your bookshelf or taped to your walls. "I dunno," he says, rocking back on his heels. "Just… couldn’t sleep, I guess. And I was thinking about stuff. And you."

Your eyebrows lift. "Me?"

"Yeah, you." He shrugs like it’s not a big deal, but the way he won’t quite meet your eyes says otherwise. "And I figured, you know, since I was already thinking about you, and since you were obviously awake, and since your window is right there—"

"—you decided to break in."

"Not break in. More like… strategically enter."

You sigh, dragging a hand down your face. "You’re impossible."

"Yeah," he says, grinning a little. "But you like me anyway."

You don’t dignify that with a response. Instead, you just pull your covers to the side, turning over onto your other shoulder. "Close the window."

There's a pause.

You don’t look at him, don’t clarify, don’t explain—because if he doesn’t get the hint, that’s his problem.

For a second, there’s nothing but silence. Then, finally, the soft creak of the window shutting, the lock clicking into place.

And a few moments later, the dip of your mattress as Stiles climbs in beside you.

Stiles hesitates for only a second before he takes what you’ve silently offered, slipping under the covers and settling in behind you. His movements are careful, almost tentative, like he’s waiting for you to change your mind and shove him off the bed.

You don’t.

Mostly because you’re exhausted—mentally, emotionally, and from the sheer effort it’s going to take to pretend your drainpipe isn’t hanging on for dear life outside your window. You don’t have the energy to kick him out, and honestly, even if you did, you probably wouldn’t.

He shifts slightly, adjusting until he’s pressed fully against your back, his arm draping naturally over your waist. He’s warm—unfairly so—and for a moment, you hate how easy it is to relax against him, how comfortable this feels despite the absolute nuisance he’s been tonight.

"You’re still mad," he murmurs, his breath warm against the nape of your neck.

"Not mad exactly," you say, your voice muffled against your pillow. "Just… annoyed."

"Right. Annoyed. Got it." His fingers tap lightly against your hip, thoughtful. "So, like… mild annoyance? Or are we talking long-term consequences? Should I be preparing for some kind of slow-burn revenge arc?"

You snort. "You wish I had the patience for a slow-burn revenge arc."

"True," he concedes, squeezing your waist lightly. "You’re more of an ‘immediate consequences’ type. Which, honestly? Fair."

You hum in agreement, staring at the wall. You should turn around. Should look him in the eye and make sure he knows you’re actually a little pissed this time, that he can’t just pull some reckless stunt and expect to charm his way out of it.

But the problem is… if you do turn around, he’s going to be looking at you like that—all soft-eyed and stupidly endearing, like a kicked puppy who just wants to be forgiven. Because he is one.

And you will forgive him, way too quickly, because you always do.

So, instead, you stay facing away, letting him be the big spoon, letting him hold you without having to see the expression that’s no doubt on his face. He can deal with you being slightly annoyed for once. He deserves to sit with it.

Besides, you’ll be the one stuck explaining to your parents why the drainpipe looks like it lost a fight with a raccoon.

For now, though, you let your eyes slip shut, focusing on the steady rhythm of his breathing behind you, the warmth of him pressed close, the way his fingers trace mindless patterns against your side.

He’s here. He’s safe.

And maybe you’ll be less annoyed in the morning.

The morning light filters softly through your curtains, painting everything in hazy gold. The world is still quiet, wrapped in that early morning stillness where reality hasn’t quite settled in yet.

You’re warm. Comfortable. And you don’t fully register why until your sleep-fogged brain starts to catch up with your body.

Your face is pressed against something solid and warm, rising and falling with slow, measured breaths. Your arms are curled around a familiar frame, fingers tucked into the fabric of a hoodie, holding on just as tightly as the arms wrapped around you.

Stiles.

He’s awake. You can feel it in the way his body is just a little too still, like he’s trying way too hard not to move. His breathing is slow—too slow—like he’s deliberately keeping it shallow so he doesn’t disturb you.

You peek your eyes open, blinking up at him. Sure enough, his gaze is already on you, wide and soft, like he’s been staring at you for a while now. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something tender about it—something careful, like he doesn’t want to do anything that might ruin this moment.

You yawn, stretching slightly but not moving away. Instead, you nuzzle just a little further into his chest before tilting your head up, pressing a lazy, barely-awake kiss to the underside of his jaw.

“Breathe,” you murmur against his skin.

You feel him suck in a sharp inhale, his arms tightening around you instinctively.

Then, a breathless laugh. “I—yeah. Okay. Noted.”

You shift, resting your chin against his chest so you can look at him properly. “I’m not annoyed anymore.”

His lips twitch, his fingers brushing absentmindedly against your back. “I figured. You are currently cuddling me like I’m your emotional support human.”

You don’t even try to deny it. There’s no point—you both know the truth. It was you who moved into his arms sometime during the night, who sought him out in your sleep, curled up against him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Stiles knows it. You know it. It always happens. And neither of you are in any rush to change it.

So instead, you just sigh, pressing your face back into his hoodie, letting yourself relax completely into him.

His arms stay wrapped around you, holding you like he has no intention of letting go anytime soon.

And honestly?

You’re perfectly okay with that.

The warmth of him, the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest, the way his fingers absentmindedly trace the curve of your spine—it’s grounding in a way you don’t fully want to acknowledge yet. You should probably say something snarky, tease him for the way he’s holding you like you might disappear if he lets go, but you don’t.

Instead, you shift, stretching lazily, letting your nose brush against the hollow of his throat as you settle back in. Stiles tenses for half a second, his breath hitching, and you feel the way his fingers tighten at your waist like he’s trying to keep himself in check.

It makes you smirk against his hoodie.

"You okay there?" you murmur, your voice still thick with sleep.

He exhales a little too forcefully. "Yeah. Totally fine. Just—" He clears his throat. "You, uh. You can't just do that."

"Do what?" You tilt your head, blinking up at him with innocent eyes.

Stiles levels you with a look. "You know what."

You just hum, clearly unbothered, shifting again so that your leg slots between his. It’s barely anything—just a sleepy, natural movement—but it's enough to have Stiles groaning under his breath, pressing his head back into your pillow like he's gathering some kind of strength.

"You’re doing this on purpose," he mutters, eyes squeezing shut.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," you say, voice light, but the smile you’re biting back gives you away.

He makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. "You are a menace."

"And yet, you’re still here."

"Yeah," he breathes, his voice quieter now, something softer threading through it. "I am."

You finally glance up at him properly, and it’s a mistake. Because he’s already looking at you, already watching you with that look—the one that’s way too fond, way too open, way too everything. His eyes flicker over your face, lingering for half a second too long on your mouth before meeting your gaze again, and it sends a quiet thrill through you.

For once, he doesn’t fill the silence with words. He just watches you, his hand at your waist stilling, fingers pressing just a little firmer into your side. You swallow.

"You’re staring," you murmur, voice quieter now.

"Yeah," he says simply. "Guess I am."

You don’t know who moves first. Maybe it’s you, maybe it’s him, or maybe it’s both of you at the same time—but it doesn’t really matter, because one second you’re just laying there, hovering in that space between hesitation and action, and the next—

His lips are on yours.

It’s soft at first, tentative, like he’s waiting to see if you’ll pull away. When you don’t—when you press into it, letting your fingers curl into the fabric of his hoodie—he exhales against your mouth, something loosening in him, and suddenly, you’re kissing Stiles.

And it’s good.

Better than you would have expected, if you’d ever let yourself think about lazy, sleepy, morning kisses with Stiles before (which, for the record, you totally haven’t). His lips are warm and a little chapped, moving against yours in a way that’s way too easy, way too natural, like this isn’t the first time you’ve done it. Like this isn’t the first time he’s thought about doing it.

You sigh against him, tilting your head slightly, and he makes a quiet, almost desperate noise before kissing you again, deeper this time. His hand slides up, fingers tracing along your ribcage, settling just beneath the hem of your shirt, and the warmth of it sends a shiver through you.

He notices. Smirks against your mouth.

"Cold?" he murmurs.

You huff, nudging his nose with yours. "Shut up."

"Not a chance," he says, grinning, before kissing you again.

This time, there’s nothing tentative about it. His hand slips higher, his body pressing closer, and it’s dizzying—the slow drag of his lips, the heat of him against you, the way he’s kissing you like he’s been waiting for this, like he needs it, like he’s making up for lost time.

And maybe—just maybe—you feel the same way.

You tangle your fingers into his hair, tugging just slightly, and he groans against your mouth, his grip on your waist tightening. His hoodie rides up between you, fabric bunching as your hands roam, and suddenly, it’s all warmth and pressure and Stiles.

It’s almost too much. It’s not enough.

And then—

There’s a loud bang from outside.

You both freeze.

A beat of silence. Then—

"Stiles?"

Your stomach drops.

Stiles curses under his breath, forehead pressing against your shoulder. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me."

A second later, another call.

"Stiles Stilinski, are you up there?"

Your eyes widen. "Is that—"

"My dad," Stiles groans, rolling onto his back and dragging his hands down his face. "That’s my dad."

Your stomach twists. "He knows you're here?"

"I don’t know!" Stiles hisses, already scrambling to sit up. "But considering he’s currently yelling my name outside your house, I’m gonna go ahead and assume that, yeah, he knows."

You swear under your breath, sitting up with him. "How the hell does he know?"

"I—" Stiles pauses, then closes his eyes in defeat. "Oh my god."

You stare at him. "What?"

"My jeep is parked in your driveway."

There’s a beat of silence as you both process that. Then—

"Oh my god."

"Yeah," Stiles groans, rubbing his temples. "I am so unbelievably screwed."

You don’t even hesitate. You shove him. "Get out."

"I’m trying!" He flails, nearly toppling off the bed as he tries to untangle himself from the covers. "Do you have a back door? A fire escape? A trapdoor?"

"Oh, yeah, let me just pull the secret lever in my suburban bedroom," you deadpan. "Obviously not, Stiles."

He glares at you, shoving his feet into his sneakers. "Your sarcasm is not helping right now."

"Neither is your existence in my room at seven in the morning."

"Okay, ow," he mutters, making a beeline for the window.

Before he can climb out, there's a knock on your bedroom door.

Your heart stops.

"Sweetheart?" your mom calls. "Are you awake?"

You and Stiles lock eyes, frozen in panic.

He exhales sharply. "I’m never sneaking in here again."

You shove him toward the window. "Yeah, that’s what you said last time."

He hesitates for half a second, glancing back at you, and in the middle of all the chaos, the sheer insanity of the situation, his expression softens. "Hey," he murmurs.

You blink. "What?"

He grins, lopsided and infuriating, but somehow still—sweet. "Worth it."

Your chest tightens, but before you can respond, the knock comes again, more insistent.

You take a breath, forcing your voice to stay steady. "Yeah, Mom, I’m up."

The door cracks open, and she peeks in, her gaze flicking between you and Stiles, who is now standing awkwardly by the window, caught in the act.

Her eyebrows lift. "Stiles?"

You nod, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. "I, uh… I called him over. I missed him."

She glances between the two of you again, then sighs. "Next time, maybe tell me beforehand, okay?"

You swallow. "Okay."

And miraculously, somehow—she buys it.

Stiles is still frozen by the window, one leg halfway up like he’s debating whether to fully commit to the escape or just surrender to the inevitable. He looks at you, then at your mom, then back at you.

“So… do I keep going? Or…?” He gestures vaguely toward the open window. “I mean, I can, but—"

Your mom sighs, already turning to head downstairs. “Oh, for god’s sake, Stiles, just come have breakfast.”

He blinks. “Wait, really?”

“Yes,” she says, exasperated. “And tell your father to come in, because his yelling isn’t doing anyone any good this early in the morning.”

Stiles stares after her as she disappears down the hall, then slowly turns back to you. “… I’m sorry, what just happened?”

You groan, falling back onto the bed and dragging the blanket over your face. “I don’t know. Just—go downstairs before she changes her mind.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh, then hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hey.”

You peek out from under the blanket, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

His expression softens, a flicker of guilt passing over his face. “Thanks. For, y’know, taking the blame.”

You roll your eyes but nudge his foot with yours. “It’s the least I could do.”

He grins at that, rocking back on his heels before reaching for your hand. His fingers thread through yours easily, like it’s something he’s been doing forever, and your chest tightens at the casual intimacy of it.

You try not to let it show, but he catches it anyway. Because of course he does.

He lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, and your breath stutters just slightly. When he speaks, his voice is quieter, more serious.

“I promise I’ll never put you in a situation like this again.”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re a terrible liar.”

He winces. “Okay, yeah, that was definitely a lie.”

You snort, shoving his shoulder. “Come on, Stilinski. Let’s go face the music.”

He groans, dragging a hand down his face as he follows you toward the door. “If my dad tries to give me the talk at the breakfast table, I am walking into oncoming traffic.”

You grin, bumping his hip with yours as you head downstairs. “Relax. My mom likes you.”

“That’s what worries me,” he mutters, but his fingers are still laced with yours, and somehow, even with the looming awkwardness of breakfast with both your parents, it doesn’t feel so bad.

[giggly-squiggily]

Hey heyyyy~ hope all is well my dearest fried

For the valentine's event, may I request a JJK fic with Lee!Megumi and Ler!Gojo with: ❤️ I love you: "What a brave thing to say for someone so ticklish."

That would be so so awesome! Remember to drink some water 🥤🫶🏾

Heheheheh, YES! I love JJK- and these two make me laugh so much! Gladys, I've gotcha covered! Thank you for the kind words! I've drank some water upon writing this and feel really good! <3

I love you- "What a brave thing to say for someone so ticklish."

“Say it!”

“No.” Megumi glared at him, stubborn as ever. “I refuse to.”

“Come on!” Gojo whined like a child, slumping theatrically. “We both know it’s true! I’m the best teacher you’ve ever had!”

“You’re the only teacher I’ve had. That doesn’t make you the best- not even by default.” Megumi turned away, ignoring the dramatic gasp Gojo made. Sure, he could be nice and agree, but then he’d never hear the end of it. “You’re not changing my mind.”

“Well, well well.” Gojo tsked, walking towards him. Megumi didn’t back down, glaring up at the devious grin spreading over the older man’s face. “You’re brave, Gooms. Braver than most.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“It has to do with everything! After all,” Gojo leaned in, blue eyes sparkling over his glasses. “What a brave thing to say…for someone so ticklish.”

“What-” Megumi didn’t get a chance to react. Gojo shot his hands out, grabbing Megumi’s ribs and digging in. “Nohohohooh, yoohohohu sohohohon of a-gehahhaaha!”

“Come on- just say it! Say I’m your favorite teacher!” Gojo laughed as Megumi dropped to his knees, curling up in a ball. “You know you want to! Don’t deny the truth- it’ll set you free!”

“Yohohohour fahahhantahahhasies ahahhre nohohoht my truuuhuhths-Ghehahahahaha, cohohome ohohohon!” Hands in his neck had him reevaluating his entire opinion. “Gohoohohohjo, enhoohohohugh!”

“I’m not hearing what I want~” The older man cooed, getting him in the chin and making him scrunch. “Coochie coochei coo!”

“Geheahhaha! Fihihihne, fihihihine! FIHHIHINE!” Megumi tapped out, gasping when the hands stopped. “Yhoohhur my fahahvorite theheheacher! Hhhahappy?”

Gojo swelled, smile bright as he pressed his hands to his chest. “Oh, Goomy!”

“Get off!” The teen swatted at him when he tried to hug him, making Gojo laugh harder. “Ugh, you’re lucky you are my favorite- else I’d release my domain expansion on you!”

Gojo stopped laughing for a moment, brows raised. Megumi flushed a brilliant red, realizing his mistake.

“That-That was a slip of the tongue! It meant nothing!” He practically sprinted out of the room, leaving a touched Gojo behind. “Forget it!”

“Never!” Gojo called back, genuinely happy.

Send Me a Prompt and I'll Write A Dabble For It!

[babyleostuff]

Soooo is there a reason you ignored my request?

not really. mind you i have a life outside of tumblr

[not-neverland06]

Hey! Your writing is amazing! I’ve been checking daily for new fics lmao

I was wondering if your requests were open would you be able to write some angst with a happy ending w/ Peanut?

Perhaps a Shy!Reader who has flirty banter with Logan. They’re on a mission and Logan has to make a quick decision on who to save — Reader or Jean and he saves Jean without thinking. Reader ends up surviving with a few injuries but her and Logan’s relationship starts to deteriorate. Logan’s not good with verbal apologies so he does acts of service — bringing reader food/drinks etc. reader is stubborn and Logan starts to get frustrated. He eventually proves himself to reader.

I’m sorry if this is confusing!! I’m not creative enough to write it myself and you’re really really skilled. Love your work x

a/n: I read this request and then read them together and my brain imploded because I loved it so much, no smut in this one Summary: Logan saves Jean on a mission and it's the wake-up call you desperately needed to understand that you will never be her. You can't stand to look at him anymore and he doesn't understand why you've stopped talking to him.

“What’re you thinking of doing after this?”

You shrug, leaning back on the uncomfortable bench seats and looking over at Logan. “Not sure, got any plans?”

Logan smirks and you immediately know whatever he’s about to say is going to send you spiraling. “Yeah, whatever you’re doing, sweetheart.”

Oh. My. God!

You know you’ve got it bad when something as simple as that has you swooning. It’s so easy to fall into this routine with him, to pretend you’re more suave than you actually are. Despite your usual tendency to fade into the background, you find it nearly impossible to do with him. 

Where someone else might let you stay quiet and go ignored, he seeks you out. He makes you feel seen and heard. Some days you don’t know if you appreciate it or despise it. You laugh a little, trying to hide just how affected by him you are. “Sounds good, Lo.”

He smiles and leans back on the seat, his arm coming around the back to rest lightly over your shoulders. You can tell from the look on Storm’s face that she’s trying not to laugh at you. You can’t blame her, you’re sure your eyes have tripled in size and you look absolutely stunned. 

Flirting isn’t out of the usual for you and him. Lately, though, he’s upped the game. Touching you more than usual, spending more one-on-one time together. You can feel it all building up to something. You’re shy, not stupid, you know when a guy’s going to ask you out. 

But it feels like he’s dragging it out longer than necessary like he’s enjoying teasing you a little too much.  “Alright,” Scott stands up and moves towards the back of the jet. “We’re almost there, get ready.”

You, very reluctantly, pull away from Logan and get to your feet. He walks past you, briefly squeezing your hand before joining Scott by the ramp. You grin, flexing your hand by your side and trying to memorize the feeling. 

The ramp lowers to the ground and Scott and Logan lead the way out. You’re expecting this to be simple. Stake out the area, find some information about the people running the warehouse, and figure out what exactly it is that they’ve been doing. 

The air is bursting with moisture. It’s suffocating, how humid it is, how it makes the material of your suit cling to your skin. You know the rest of the team can feel it. That it’s irritating them just as much. 

None of you want to be out here in the peak of summer, trying to be stealthy in these ridiculous costumes. Your thighs squeak every time they rub together. It’s beyond embarrassing. You know that that’s what has you all distracted. 

You’re struggling through ankle-deep mud and sweating buckets. So none of you are paying any particular attention to the area around you. Technically, you shouldn’t have to, you’re still about a mile out from where you need to be. 

You duck, hands coming up to cover your ears as Charles’ voice screams through your mind. It’s a trap!

Even with the warning, there’s no time to prepare. The ground around you explodes, grass and dirt flying through the air. Logan grabs your arm, he shoves himself in front of you and takes the brunt of the bullets. Splatters of blood hits your cheeks and he runs you both behind a tree for cover. 

The other three have all found their own cover and they’re struggling to figure out where the shots are coming from. You spot something in the underbrush and scream, “Behind you!”

It’s more of a warning to duck than it is to move. You throw your hands up, shoving the man away from them and sending him flying into the trunk of a tree. You swear you can hear the snap of his spine as it hits the bark. 

You look to Jean and nod towards the small clearing of trees. “Don’t,” Logan warns. But you’re already slipping out of his grip and solidifying the air in front of you. It provides enough of a cover, absorbing the bullets, and giving you all time to figure out a plan of attack. 

Jean moves beside you, eyes narrowing on the perimeter of your cover. “There are too many of them, more than I can count.” 

“How did they know we were coming?” Scott snaps, keeping an eye on the area behind you. 

Your arms struggle under the weight of your power. The more bullets they shoot into your cover, the harder it is to keep up. You’re forced to absorb their energy, push it out tenfold to try and keep the blockage solidified. 

“Guys,” you snap, “we need a plan. I can’t hold it much longer.” You grit your teeth, taking a step forward to try and push against the strain. It does nothing but make your bones ache. Logan shoots you a concerned glance, coming up behind you like he wants to take the weight off your shoulders. But there’s nothing he can do. 

There’s movement behind you, a boot snapping a twig in two. You can’t risk looking back but you can hear the worry in Jean’s voice. “Ten of them-”

You can tell by the sounds of their movement that the others don’t give her much of a chance to finish. Ororo, Scott, and Logan all shoot forward to deal with the threat. Ten isn’t much to worry about. But that doesn’t change the fact that the men in front of you haven’t let up and you’re about to weep from the weight of keeping the wall up. 

Jean stays beside you, brows furrowed in concern. She places her hand on your shoulder and closes her eyes. A second later you feel something like a cool blanket laid over you. The tension in your arms and core eases just enough for you to stop clenching your jaw so hard. Some of the strain eases away and you know she’s sharing it with you. 

But just as quickly as the relief was given, it’s yanked away. Jean jumps back with a gasp, “Flux, we need to move!”

“I can’t,” you shout, fighting to be heard over the sound of bloodshed and gunshots going off in front of and behind you. The others are steadily moving through the people surrounding you, but their numbers are still overwhelming. “It’ll all come crashing down,” you tell her. 

She glances towards the bullets, finally spotting the way they’re slowly, but steadily, moving through the thickened air. The second you let go you’ll be riddled with holes. “Shit,” she hisses. “Look, we can’t stay here much longer-”

She’s cut off by a loud bang. You’re so disoriented by the noise your hands drop to your sides. At the same moment, you hear wood splintering and cracking beside you. What has to be the largest tree in the forest creaks before it begins its descent down towards you both. 

You don’t what happened, or what they used, but it doesn’t matter. The wall in front of you is fading. You have seconds to get out of the way of the bullets and the tree, you’re not sure either of you is going to make it. 

“Jean!” There’s a flash of brown hair and Jean’s being tackled to the ground, safely out of the way of the tree and bullets. You feel something stinging against your shoulder and know the first bullet’s made its way through. 

You also see the tree is almost over top of you. You’ve always been a fight response in flight or fight scenarios. But when there’s nothing to fight, when you have nothing to go up against, you freeze. It’s horrible, you know it, but there’s nothing you can do about it. 

Even as you’re desperately screaming at yourself to just fucking move, all you can do is watch as the tree topples down on top of you. “Flux, duck!” The words trigger something in your brain just soon enough to drop to the ground. 

Scott releases a red beam, blasting through the tree and knocking it off course. You don’t even register the smell of burning flesh as you lay in the mud. Your blood is rushing so fast in your veins, there’s so much adrenaline pumping through you, you can’t focus on anything except the sound of your heartbeat. 

You let out a breath of relief, slowly lifting yourself up to your knees. You don’t hear any more fighting and you figure whoever they hadn’t taken down before, the beam took care of the rest. 

You look down, checking yourself for any bullet holes or serious damage but you can’t find anything. Something warm trickles down your shoulder, it drips across your arm and down your hand. 

You look at the blood curiously, it seems to steady a flow from the simple bullet graze you’d had earlier. “Oh my god,” Jean whispers your name and you turn around with a concerned look. 

You want to ask her what’s wrong but your eyes are trained on the way Logan’s arms are bracketing her. He’s practically on top of her, only now getting up to check on you. You get it, it was a stressful situation, he acted fast. 

But that doesn’t make it any easier to swallow the lump in your throat. It doesn’t ease the burn of betrayal. He saved her, not you. He chose her even though she doesn’t want him. The anger you’re feeling only makes it harder to be aware of your surroundings. 

It’s not until Scott kneels behind you a presses a gentle hand against your back that you lurch forward with a loud cry. The pain slams down on you all at once. The wind blowing gently against your back feels like someone’s dug razor blades in your skin and ripped. 

Feet rush towards you, someone kneeling beside you and grabbing your shoulders. Logan forces you up and makes you look at him before his gaze turns to your back. “What the fuck did you do?” He practically growls, lunging towards Scott. 

He grabs him by the collar and shoves him into the dirt. Ororo and Jean leap forward, trying unsuccessfully to rip him off. You try and keep your eyes open, try and stay focused. The pain is too much, you don’t want to be awake for this anymore. Every nerve on your back feels like it’s being forcefully exposed and plucked at. 

Your brain forces a shutdown and you slump into the mud, the world going black. 

When you wake up, you’re on your stomach. You’re a little dazed, not fully remembering how you got here. You try and sit up but there’s a steady grip around your wrists stopping you. “Don’t move,” Jean warns from somewhere behind you. 

You try and look for her but you can’t move much. Your head feels like it weighs a hundred pounds, stuck to the pillow beneath you. “What happened? Why can’t I move?”

Her shoes appear in front of you and then she’s kneeling down, a slightly worried look on her face. “We needed to make sure you didn’t roll over in your sleep.” Her brows crinkle and she frowns, “You don’t remember?” You shake your head minutely. She sighs, lifting her hand to your face and pressing her chilled fingers to your temple. 

The images rush towards you. You see it all from her eyes. The way Logan had grabbed her and thrown her to the ground, checking over her and not once looking at you. How Scott had tried to stop the tree from breaking your spine. His beam had just barely grazed your back as you had ducked. But it was enough for there to be serious damage. 

Through her view, you can see the way your skin had bubbled up and blistered. How horribly damaged it was. You have limited healing abilities, but it was enough to stop the nerves from being permanently damaged. 

She lets you go and you groan, the pain slowly registering in your brain. It’s dulled and you don’t know if they’ve given you drugs or if your abilities are still working to help you. “How’s Scott?” 

She chuckles and shakes her head while she undoes the restraints around your wrist. “He feels awful. He keeps coming by to check on you.”

The thought of him sitting beside you while you were strapped down to the bed makes you feel a little bad. It wasn’t his fault, he’d helped you. It was more than Logan had done for you. 

You frown, hating yourself for being bitter. If he hadn’t helped, Jean might not be here next to you. He had saved your friend. The thought didn’t bring much comfort, though. “I’m not mad at him.”

Jean eases you onto your knees and slowly helps you sit up. It causes minimal pain, but it’s still uncomfortable enough to grit your teeth and dig your nails into your palms. “I know, but he’ll probably be coming down here a lot to check on you.”

You almost ask her if anyone else has visited. If Logan had, but you don’t think her answer would make you feel any better. “He did,” she tells you and you click your tongue in irritation. 

“Out of my head,” you warn. She releases you with a small grin. “I don’t care,” you tell her, trying to appear nonchalant. 

She tilts her head, eyes narrowing on you. “Yes, you do. And I don’t need telepathy to know.” She walks towards your IV bag, fiddling around with something on the line. “He was here whenever he could be, practically lived beside you.”

“Don’t care,” you tell her again, but there’s less conviction this time. 

Jean frowns and you hate how guilty she looks. It’s not her fault he’s desperately in love with her and not you. You can’t force someone to love you or choose you. And you don’t want to. You want someone to love you for who you are, not because they couldn’t have their first choice. 

“Don’t,” you say lowly. “Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault.”

She doesn’t get a chance to say anything before the door bursts open, both Logan and Scott sliding into your room. Scott lets out a relieved breath when he sees you. He breathes out your name and approaches with a guilty smile, “You’re awake.”

“Charles told us,” Logan informs. You offer him a brief glance before diverting your attention to Scott. 

Petty, you’re aware. But you don’t want to see Logan right now. You’d put so much effort and time into your friendship with him. It doesn’t even matter if he doesn’t feel the same way about you. You two are best friends, and he didn’t even try to help you when you needed him the most. 

So, you smile at Scott. You forgive him and you tell him you're fine. You chat with him and Jean while Logan just stares at you from the other side of your bed. You can’t make yourself face him. You don’t want to look at him, it makes you sick to your stomach.

Eventually, Scott’s guilt is slightly assuaged and he and Jean leave for the night. Logan is a heavy presence beside you, one you no longer can ignore. You shift around, pretending to fluff your pillows until he grabs your hand. 

“What’re you doing?”

You look at his hand and then at him. Whatever look is on your face is enough for him to release you and back off. “Getting comfortable,” you spit out, more venom in your voice than necessary. Something clicks for him, you can see it as it happens. 

He backs up and narrows his eyes down at you. “Right.” He frowns and sucks on his teeth, nodding his head silently. “I’ll come back when you’re feeling a little better.” You don’t miss the hidden dig underneath it all, the way he’s calling out you’re unusual behavior. 

“I think that’d be best.”

He scoffs and shakes his head, slamming the door behind him as he leaves. You jump at the noise and it makes you hiss as a twinge of pain shoots down your spine. You feel slightly guilty about the whole interaction. Then, you remember the way he’d been cradling Jean and you feel slightly vindicated. 

You’re sure he doesn’t even give a shit. He’s probably pouting in his room, wishing Jean was in bed beside him. 

What the fuck?

It’s all that’s been playing through Logan’s head since he returned from your room in the medbay. He’s waited days for you to wake up, so he can finally take a breath and let go of the anxiety that’s been plaguing him. 

He’d thought that he’d lost you in that forest. When he’d gone for Jean, he’d assumed you’d just be able to use your powers to knock the tree out of your path. Or make it melt around you. 

Honestly, he can’t put a finger on what exactly he was thinking. But he knew that you could protect yourself and that would be your priority. So he’d moved without really thinking and grabbed the person who would be collateral damage if your powers went haywire. 

And then you hadn’t saved yourself and all he could smell was your burning flesh. The smell has been stuck in his nose since you were brought back to the mansion. He can’t escape it. Everywhere he goes, he sees you burning and hears your screams. 

He’d thought that you were dead and there was a moment where he genuinely was so lost he could do nothing but watch as the others swarmed you. He couldn’t move, couldn’t help you. He could only stare at your still body and pray to anybody who could hear him that you weren’t dead. 

He didn’t know what he would do if he lost you before he ever got a chance to love you. 

He’d, irritatingly, imagined all the different ways he would finally tell you how he felt when you woke up. He’d prepared himself for every possible reaction, except this one. He hadn’t expected you to reject him before he ever got the chance to confess. 

Anger stews within him as he paces through his room. He knows that it’s unfair to be upset with you. You’d gone through something horrific and there had been doubts about your recovery. Of course, you’d act off. 

Except, you only seemed to be directing that at him. Had you been just as dismissive to Scott, the person who actually hurt you, he would have looked past it. He’s tempted to go back down and see you again, maybe try and make you see some sense. 

Instead, he decides to give you both some time to calm down. He doesn’t want to do anything he might regret while he’s pissed off. He’ll see you tomorrow and, hopefully, you’ll be back to normal. 

You’d thought Logan might have gotten the hint with how you behaved earlier. That was not the case. He’s back today and you can smell the breakfast food he’s brought you. The smell is wafting deliciously from an inconspicuous brown bag. 

But you know it’s from the restaurant that’s twenty minutes out of his way. You’re not petty enough that you can’t appreciate the forty-minute round trip he’d taken for you, but you still aren’t excited to see him. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he smiles at you despite your clearly hostile energy. He tugs the chair towards your bed, ripping open the bag and pulling out enough food for the both of you. 

You think it should be considered a form of manipulation to call you that while you’re pissed at him. He has such a clear effect on you. You know he’s aware of it. He knows that when he calls you something sweet like that it makes your heart race and stomach flip. 

You turn your gaze towards your blanket. You pretend the thread pattern is the most interesting thing in the world so you don’t have to look at him. You’re sick of giving your all to men who couldn’t care less about you. 

You’re tired of being the second, third, fourth choice. You want someone to choose you first for once. And you genuinely thought Logan would be the man to do that. But he’d chosen Jean. You should have known. 

“Alright,” he huffs, crossing his arms and glaring at you. You’re pissed off that he’s acting like he’s the one who was hurt. “What the hell is your problem? You’ve never been this mad at me before.”

It’s his tone of voice that really grates on you. He genuinely does not understand what he’s done wrong. He doesn’t even comprehend the possibility that you might be mad he left you to die. Have you really become such a doormat?

Yes, you’re shy and generally reserved with the people you meet. But he is so different. You two met and it was an instant connection that you thought was reciprocated. You hadn't realized that you'd become so complacent in the relationship he thought he could get away with something like this with no repercussions. 

“You left me to die,” you snap at him, voice taking a pitch it never has before. You’ve never truly gotten angry at him. Pissed off sometimes when he teased you a little too much. But you’d never plainly shown anger at him. “You fucking left me behind and expect me to, what,” you scoff and shove the food back towards him. 

“You think some shitty breakfast is going to fix this?” His face contorts. It screws up into something like hurt and you worry you might have been too harsh. He doesn’t know how you feel about him. He doesn’t know that this would hurt you so bad. 

But, it doesn’t matter. You’re still his friend. You should have at least warranted a little concern. 

Just as quickly as it appeared, the hurt is washed away by his own anger. “I thought you could take care of yourself. Isn’t that what you’re always bitching at us about?”

If you weren’t so upset you might find it funny how quickly the two of you turned on each other. Clearly, there was something repressed between the two of you. Some brewing resentment that neither of you had ever acknowledged. The words are coming quickly now, without thought.

“Fuck you, Logan,” you snap back at him. “You didn’t give a shit whether I lived or died. You only cared about your precious Jean.” You spit out her name with so much venom it stings as it leaves your tongue. 

He laughs, getting out of his chair. He shakes his head and glares at you. His anger is always a physical thing. You know he’s pacing so he doesn’t do something worse, like destroy the entirety of the room. 

“That’s what this is, you’re jealous? Don’t blame your fucking incompetence on me.” You hate the way he’s speaking to you. Like you’re a little girl who's incapable of understanding even the most basic of concepts. He has such a patronizing look on his face, you want nothing more than to wipe it off. 

The tables beside you tremble, the vases of flowers rattling against the wood. “I’m your friend, Logan. You could at least pretend like you cared about me.”

He leans against the end of the bed, tilting himself forward until he’s aggressively imposing your space. You shrink back against the pillows, narrowing your eyes in disdain. “Don’t fucking pull that shit with me. I knew that your priority would be to save yourself and I acted accordingly. This wasn’t some goddamn ploy to get into Jean’s pants. Grow the fuck up, Flux!”

You flinch back at the volume of his voice. Unwillingly, tears pool in the corners of your eyes. It’s an involuntary response. Sometimes you just get so enraged that you have no other way to get rid of it than to cry. It’s infuriating to see the moment someone stops taking you seriously and starts to think you’re nothing more than a crybaby. 

Logan’s face pales and he winces, backing away from you. “I didn’t-”

“Enough,” you stop him, voice thick with unshed tears. He never calls you by your X-men name, it’s an unspoken agreement between the two of you. That’s a formality reserved for the other members. To each other, you’re nothing more than two people who care deeply for one another. 

Or, you had been. Before this one moment had blown your life and your back up. 

“I appreciate how much faith you have in my abilities, but the fact that your first instinct wasn’t even to protect me says a lot.” You take in a deep breath and shake your head. “Thanks for the breakfast, but can you please just leave?”

He looks like he doesn’t want to. You know he doesn’t want to leave. You two never fight like this. Even if there wasn’t a lot said, it’s still not normal for you. Maybe that should have been your first hint that things weren’t what you thought. 

It’s healthy to fight, to a certain extent. Sometimes it's needed. You two never have before and you know it’s just been brewing for a while, waiting to blow up. “I-”

“Get out,” you shout, and the tables beside you finally crumble under the weight of your emotions. They drip to the ground in an inorganic form of liquid wood. “Shit,” you hiss, glancing over at them. You wave your hand and they return to their normal state, but it doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t have lost control at all. 

The door slams and you look up to find the room empty. You sink back against your bed and run your hands over your face. You ignore the way the skin of your back screams in protest. 

You embrace the pain, the fiery shocks running up your nerves as the bandages chafe against the wounds. You focus on that instead of how things have ended with Logan. You always had such high hopes that he might be the one you finally man up and confess to. 

You should have known you were wrong. You should have known that it would never have ended with him picking you over her. 

You’re permitted to leave the medbay the next day. You don’t see or hear from Logan for the following week. You can’t confirm if he’s purposefully avoiding you or not but you have to believe he is. You both live in the same hall. You don’t know how it’s possible to have gone this long without even catching a slight glimpse of him. 

You force yourself to suffocate the part of you that misses him. You picture the side of yourself that longs for his presence and imagine shoving a pillow over her face. You don’t want to ache and cry over someone who doesn’t give two shits about you. 

You keep reminding yourself over and over again that when things got rough he showed you his true colors. But it’s more difficult than you imagined to just completely disregard so much history with him. 

Besides, you hadn’t realized just how little you interacted with the others until Logan was out of your daily life. It’s so difficult for you to bond with people that when you’d connected with Logan you’d latched onto him. 

It’s a little pathetic, honestly. Being grown and eating lunch alone because you only had one friend. You wonder if your feelings for him were genuine or born from a desperation not to be alone. You don’t let yourself linger on the question for long. 

It’s as your training with the students that you finally see him again. 

“Has he made much progress yet?”

Jean shakes her head and purses her lips. She watches as Billy, one of the newer students, struggles with the logs in front of him. He was a firestarter, a very inexperienced one who had only ever set his curtains on fire. 

His powers were more focused on the mental aspect of things rather than the physical. Which is why you and Jean were in charge of helping him. He couldn’t start anything on his own, he only really seemed to be able to activate the ability when he was emotionally stimulated. 

That meant whenever he was mad or sad, or anything in between, everyone in a fifty-foot radius was in danger. He was a risk to the other students and you were both trying to be gentle with him. But you’d been working with him for so long and there was so little progress. It felt like he wasn’t trying sometimes. 

He’d asked Rogue out a week ago and when she’d said no, her hair had caught on fire. You know he could have been hurt and lashed out without thought or malice behind it. But you’d seen the look in his eye. 

You’re fifty percent sure he knows exactly what he’s doing. This little act he puts on is just to get himself out of trouble. You hadn’t brought the issue to Charles yet because you’re trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. 

“Billy,” you call out. His head whips up and he sends you a vicious glare. You can’t help the sneer on your lips. “Just take a deep breath and try again. There’s nothing wrong with struggling, we all did.”

You put on your normal teacher voice, calm and collected. Assuring. But the little shit in front of you isn’t buying it for a second. He gives you a sarcastic little grin, “Right. Sorry, I forgot you’re a fuck-up just like me.”

“Billy!” Jean snaps, taking a step forward to reprimand him. She doesn’t get far before there’s a fireball shooting out of his palms and hurtling towards the both of you. 

There’s no chance to react before something slams into your side and is tossing you to the ground. Your head nearly snaps against the grass but there’s a hand underneath your skull softening the blow. 

You smell something smoking and look up to see a large scorch mark right where you’d just been. Jean’s standing over it, palm outstretched as she keeps the fire subdued. She gives you a worried look, “Are you okay?”

Surprisingly, yes. You glance up to see Logan hovering over you. He backs off when he notices you’re okay, getting to his knees and offering you a hand. Wordlessly, you slip your palm into his and let him help you into a sitting position. 

“You alright,” his hand hovers over your shoulder like he wants to pull you closer. But he resists, backing off and waiting for your answer. You nod your head, still a little dazed from the failed assassination attempt. 

He narrows his eyes, searching your face for any sign of head trauma. When he’s properly assured you’re okay he jumps to his feet. “Billy!” His voice booms across the courtyard and it’s the first time you’ve ever seen that little asshole scared. 

He’s barely on his feet before Logan is stalking towards him, jerking him forward by the scruff of his neck and dragging him towards the mansion. “We need to have a little talk,” the tone of his voice has you a little scared and you’re not even the one he’s mad at. 

Jean walks towards you and helps you to your feet. “Is your back okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod and brush your clothes off. You have to physically shake the shock of what happened off. “Yeah, I’m fine. I can’t believe he did that.”

Jean scoffs and glares towards Billy’s back. Your eyes widen in shock when you see the large scorch mark across his arm. “Jean! He got you, are you okay?”

She glances down at her shirt and frowns. “Yeah, practically a sunburn.” She gives you a reassuring smile, “I’ll be fine.”

As shitty as this sounds, you’re not concerned for her. You can only focus on the fact that she was in just as much danger as you and Logan had tackled you to the ground. You glance back towards the mansion, more fucking confused than ever. 

You’re not sure what compels you to follow Logan, but you’re running after him before Jean can stop you. He’s barely got a minute headstart on you, you’re not sure why you can’t find him. You’d gone through every inch of the first floor. 

You don’t know where he would have dragged Billy, but it’s nowhere you can find. After about ten minutes of looking for him, you give up on the hope that you’re ever going to figure out what’s happening inside his brain. 

You let out a defeated sigh, running a hand over your face and trying to shake off the funk of the day. You can’t believe that little shit tried to roast you. You’re not comfortable with the fact that he’s just roaming around inside the mansion somewhere. 

You turn out of the living room and nearly slam into someone. His hands shoot out, grabbing your shoulders and gently stopping you. “Logan,” you give him a strained smile. “I was looking for you.” You glance over his shoulder and frown. “Where’s Billy?”

Logan sighs, his hands linger on your arms for a moment before he takes a step back. “Wheels got to him before I could do anything.”

You laugh a little, the noise involuntary. “What were you planning on doing with the sixteen-year-old?”

He doesn’t find the question amusing if his expression is anything to go by. “He was really trying to hurt you.”

His words sober you up slightly and you drop the flippant attitude. “Yeah, I wanted to,” god, it feels like you could choke on the words. Just last week you were screaming at him for not helping you. Now, you could barely thank him because he had. 

“You’re always my priority.” He tells you before you can struggle any longer. Your head shoots up and you stare at him with confusion. He groans, the noise tired and resigned. “Saving Jean was a mistake. I mean it, kid, I just thought you could handle yourself.”

You open your mouth but he stops you before you can argue. “I know, that’s not the point. I should have saved you, no matter what I thought you could or couldn't handle.”

“No,” you stop him and shake your head. “No, Logan, I shouldn’t. I,” your mouth opens and he stares at you expectantly. What you were going to say gets stuck in your throat. This is a horrible idea. 

“I liked you in a way you didn’t like me and it was unfair of me to push my expectations onto you.” You wanted it to sound better, and more intelligent. Instead, it came out in one rushed breath and you’re not sure he even understood half of what you said. 

His brows furrow in confusion for a moment before a smile breaks out on his face. You’re not sure if it’s a good or bad thing that he’s smiling. You can’t tell if he’s mocking you or about to profess his undying love. 

You don’t have to wonder for long. He moves closer towards you, leaning forward until you’re practically sharing the same breaths. Unconsciously, you’re drawn into him, hands braced gently on his chest as you chase after him. 

“What are you doing?” Your whispered words brush against his lips and he gives you a small smile. His hands travel up your waist. He tugs you closer, his other hand looping around your neck and craning you up. 

“I’m gonna choose you every fucking time, kid.” His lips brush across your own and it’s like a switch is flipped in you both. Your arms twine around his neck, pulling him down until you’re practically melting into him. 

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted and so different at the same time. You always thought your first kiss would be after some cheesy first date. He would have taken you out to dinner. Something would have inevitably gone wrong, you spilled something on your dress or the waiter brought the wrong order. 

You would both worry that it was a sign that nothing would work out between you. And then, at the end of the night, he’d tug you into his arms and kiss you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever held. 

That would be nice, but this is better. He’s not holding you like you’re something fragile or something too precious for this world. He’s kissing you like you’re the very air he needs to survive. He’s greedy with his affections and demanding with his wants. 

You’re being consumed and devoured. And you never want to stop. This is all you’ve ever wanted with him, from him. 

Sadly, you do have to breathe. You’re the one that forces the stop, you’re sure he would have happily suffocated if it meant he could keep touching you like this. You pull back, the air coming in short pants between your parted lips. 

You can already feel them swelling, the slight irritation on your cheeks from his stubble. You don’t mind, you quite like the feeling. He speaks before you can, a pleased smile on his face. “Forgive me yet?”

You chuckle, a little impressed by how cheeky he is, still slightly pissed off. “Why don’t you do that again and I’ll think about it?”

He rolls his eyes but you can see the smile fighting against his firm glare. “You’re really gonna make me work for it, huh?”

You smile and nod, leaning into him again. “You’re never gonna hear the end of it,” you whisper before dipping down and kissing him again. You can’t believe you ever doubted just how much he cares for you. 

He didn’t choose Jean over you. He’s just a dumbass. 

a/n: I had to resist putting in a “pick me, choose me, love me” line in there bc that would have just been too much lol

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte  

@mrs-ephemeral  @wolviesgirl ♡ 

[mminghaos]

best friend seungcheol whom you have a crush on, but never told him. he doesn't know it either and y'all just bicker all the time as bsf, one day all of it changes when you finally say you found a match on some dating app. he realises it and bam! hot and heavy shit go down.

bitter crush , choi seungcheol x f!reader

SYPNOSIS: your bestfriend doesn’t know you’ve had a crush on him for years, but when you mention matching with someone on a dating app, everything changes.

WARNINGS: smut, fingering, kissing, teasing, mingyu as the failed date lmfao

requests are open, do send some in!!

you’ve been friends with seungcheol since high school, watching each other grow up — first jobs, first kisses, and everything in between, sticking together through the highs and lows. your friendship is built on bickering and teasing each other like it’s second nature. but now, the bickering feels different.

“i matched with someone on that app i told you about,” you say, placing your coffee down on the wooden table of the café you and seungcheol are sitting at.

you’d decided to give a dating app a shot, hoping it would help you take your mind off seungcheol. maybe meeting someone new will help you move on, or at least distract you from the constant thoughts about him. but so far, it’s just more of the same — swiping, chatting, but none of its ever seemed to match the energy you share with him. you might as well move on, since seungcheol has is own hookups and girlfriends, and none of them will ever be you. its frustrating, the way this burning crush for him is always shimmering beneath the surface, gnawing at you. this is going to be the death of you — that’s what you always tell yourself.

“so you’re telling me you’re out here swiping on strangers?” he responds, his voice laced with something you can’t quite place. “what happened to the whole ‘not needing anyone’ thing?”

“it changed.”

“really? that’s weird.” he says, his eyes never leaving you. “thought you were too busy to deal with anyone new.”

you roll your eyes, trying to brush it off. “yeah, well, apparently im not as busy as i thought.”

you’ve never been the type to casually date or get involved with someone just for the sake of it. but lately, things feel different. seungcheol’s always been there — constant, reliable, and annoyingly perfect in his own way — and it’s hard to ignore how your thoughts always circle back to him, no matter how many times you try to push them away. you’ve never said it out loud, never let him in on the truth of how much he’s been occupying your mind, and the idea of dating someone else? it almost feels like a joke. you’re not really here for some random guy who doesn’t know you like he does. but the more you try to distract yourself, the more you realize how little it helps. no matter how many matches you get, no conversation ever seems to compare to the effortless back and forth you share with seungcheol. it’s like you’re chasing something that doesn’t quite exist, and each swipe only makes you feel more frustrated. but you can’t exactly admit that, not to him, not to anyone. so you keep trying, hoping maybe this time will be different, even though you know deep down it won’t be.

“so, who’s this guy?”

you shrug, trying to keep your voice steady. “kim mingyu. he’s nice. we’ve met a few times before, actually — works at that bar down the street.”

seungcheol leans back in his chair, his arms crossed as he watched you. he clears his throat. “just don’t pick some random guy who doesn’t get you, alright?”

“what, are you jealous or something?”

“no.”

the date with mingyu went well. you two got along really great — there was no shortage of conversation, and the chemistry was comfortable. you both enjoyed the meal and found common ground in ways that made the evening feel lighthearted and easy. it was nice, actually, to just relax and enjoy someone’s company without any pressure.

even if the date was good, you and mingyu both agreed that you should just be friends, neither of you feeling the sparks you were hoping for.

you walk into your apartment, slipping off your shoes and placing your keys under the mat. its quiet, the only sound being the soft hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. you head towards the living room, where seungcheol is sprawled on your couch, sorting through the groceries he offered to pick up for you earlier this week.

“you’re back early,” he says, glancing up with a smirk. “thought you were gonna be out all night with your… date.”

you roll your eyes, not really in the mood to talk about it. “it was fine,” you reply, shrugging as you drop your purse on the counter. “nothing special.”

seungcheol raises an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “really?”

you let out a breath, trying to sound casual. “yeah, well, turns out i’m not as interested as i thought.”

he tilts his head, looking at you like he’s trying to figure you out. “what do you mean?”

you hesitate, leaning against the kitchen counter, fingers tapping against the countertop. “we got along, i guess. but we just decided to be friends.”

“huh.” seungcheol shrugs, clearly unconcerned, though there’s something in the way he watches you that makes you pause. “so you’re saying you don’t feel any connection with him at all?”

you shift, rubbing the back of your neck. “it’s just… not there. but whatever. i’m fine.”

“you sure?” seungcheol presses, his voice dropping an octave, and you can’t help but notice how close he’s sitting now. “because i’m sure someone else would love the chance to—”

“ugh, please.” you cut him off, trying to brush it off. “i don’t need some random guy to be interested.”

he smirks, clearly not buying it. “really? sounds like you do.”

you bite your lip, trying to hold onto your patience, but it’s slipping through your fingers. you know he’s teasing, and usually, you’d laugh it off, but tonight feels different. there’s a tension in the air that you can’t ignore, something that’s been building for years. frustration bubbles up inside you, and before you can stop yourself, the words spill out.

“cheol, i like you, okay?” you blurt out, your voice trembling slightly, surprised by how easily it all comes rushing out.

he pauses, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processes your words. there’s a moment of silence, and you feel like you’re about to suffocate under the weight of it. his gaze flickers to your face, then down to your hands, then back to your eyes, as if trying to figure out what’s really going on.

“wait,” he says slowly, his tone less playful and more cautious now. “you’re not drunk, are you? had drinks or something when you were out?”

you quickly shake your head, trying to steady your breath. “no, i’m not drunk. i just—” but the words feel clumsy on your tongue, and suddenly, you’re unsure of how to take them back.

“i shouldn’t have said that,” you mutter, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “this was stupid, i’m sorry. i don’t even know why i—”

you start rambling, trying to downplay the confession that’s just slipped out. each word feels like it’s digging you deeper, and you just want to take it all back. “i mean, i don’t even know what i was thinking—this is—god, i’m so—”

but before you can finish, seungcheol pushes himself off the couch and walks towards you, stopping just a few inches away. his eyes still lock on yours. the silence stretches, and you feel your heart race, your breath catching in your throat. you want to say something, to apologize again, but all the words are caught in your chest.

“stop,” he says softly, his voice low, but there’s an intensity in it that you can’t ignore.

you open your mouth, wanting to explain, to take back the awkward confession, but the words jumble in your mind. “it’s just… i didn’t want to make it weird, and now i’ve probably ruined everything—”

seungcheol doesn’t say anything, just watches you with an unreadable look in his eyes, waiting for you to stop rambling. you go on anyway, trying to explain yourself, even though you can feel yourself getting more flustered with each passing second.

before you can continue, he steps forward, his hand gently cupping your face, cutting off your words. you freeze, eyes wide, but before you can process anything, his lips crash onto yours, effectively silencing you.

the kiss is deep and urgent, like he’s been holding back too. your brain barely registers what’s happening as your hands instinctively move to his chest, but the tension that had been building between you both for so long snaps. everything goes quiet in your mind, and for the first time tonight, all the chaos and nerves fall away, replaced by the heat of his kiss.

the kiss lingers for a moment, intense and raw, as if neither of you wants to pull away. your breath mingles with his, the world around you blurring until there’s only the feeling of him so close, so real. your heart pounds in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears, and you can feel the tension in his body as he holds you just a bit tighter, as if he’s afraid you might slip away.

when he finally pulls back, you’re left breathless, your forehead resting against his as you both try to catch your breath. his hands are still on you, one gently holding your face, the other resting on your hip, grounding you.

“you really don’t make things easy, do you?” he murmurs, his voice a little hoarse, the teasing edge back in his tone, but it’s softer now, more affectionate.

you don’t trust yourself to speak right away. all the words that had been stuck in your chest before are now lost, replaced by the overwhelming feeling of him so close, his touch still lingering on your skin. instead, you look up at him, meeting his eyes, trying to make sense of everything, but before you can say anything, he smiles slightly, a genuine, soft expression.

“i didn’t realise how much i liked you until you told me about that guy,” he admits, brushing his thumb over your cheek gently. “i was too stupid to notice.”

you dont get to reply because his hand moves down your back, pulling you closer, your chest pressed against his. the room feels warmer now, charged with something you can't ignore. your hands find their way to his chest, pushing lightly at first, unsure if you should pull away or let it happen. but he doesn't give you that chance.

his lips return to yours, but this time, there's more urgency in it, his kiss deepening as his tongue brushes against yours. you let out a soft sigh, the tension that's been building between you two for what feels like forever finally snapping. he groans, his hand moving to your neck, holding you in place as he deepens the kiss further. the heat between you both grows, and you can feel every inch of him pressing against you, making your pulse quicken.

seungcheol's voice is low, almost a whisper as he takes a step back, hands resting on your waist, grounding you both. "do you want to keep going?" he asks.

you nod, your heart racing, but your mind is clear. “yes.”

he doesn't say anything more, just nods and gently takes your hand, leading you through the apartment. when you get to your room, he lays you down on the bed gently, his hands never leaving you.

seungcheol hovers over you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation, any sign that you’re unsure. you can feel his body close to yours, the warmth radiating off him. “are you sure?”

“yes, cheol.” you let out a light laugh, pulling him closer. “im sure.”

his lips trail down your jaw, each kiss softer than the last before he moves to your neck, his teeth grazing slightly over the skin. you let out a soft sigh once he pulls back after reaching where your shirt starts. before he can say anything, you’re reaching for the hem of your shirt, pulling the fabric over your head.

seungcheol takes a moment, his gaze lingering on you before meeting your eyes again.

“you’re so beautiful,” he says, unclasping your bra and slipping it off. “god.”

his hands find their way to your pants as he trails kisses down your chest, each one growing more desperate as his lips move lower. the warmth of his breath against your skin sends a shiver through you, and you can feel your heart race with every gentle press of his lips.

eventually, he pulls your pants off, discarding them somewhere on the floor behind him. “please.” you breathe out

“hmm?” he responds, his fingers slipping just under the band of your panties. “what do you want, baby?”

“need you inside me, please.”

he glances down at you, lips twitching up into a smirk. “patience.”

“no, no, no— cheol, please—” you whimper out.

“don’t worry, you’ll get what you want.” he cuts you off, pressing a light kiss to your collarbone.

when he finally stops teasing you and pulls your panties down, tossing them god knows where, you’re already a mess underneath him. every nerve in your body is on edge, anticipation building as he slides two fingers through your folds. “fuck, you’re soaking wet for me, baby.” a low groan escapes his lips, his restraint wavering as he fights to hold himself back.

he slowly pushes one finger into your pussy, giving you a moment to relax before he adds another and starts to curl them into all the right places.

“cheol!” your head falls back against the pillow, hand going to grab his wrist for some sort of stability.

“yeah, you like that?”

you’re already so close — just from the way his fingers move inside you, hitting every spot that sends sparks shooting througu your body.

you nod over and over again, hips rising to match the rhythm of his movements. “don’t stop— fuck— please, im so close.” 

your breath hitches, and you clutch at his arm, desperate for grounding as the sensations overwhelm you. every stroke of his fingers feels like its pulling you closer to the brink, and the tension in your body winds tighter with each passing second. “please—” the word slips out as a whisper, barely audible. your legs start to shake, the pleasure coursing through you almost too much to bear.

before you can even warn seungcheol, you’re coming undone all over his fingers, hips bucking up at the same time.

“god, thats so hot.” he mutters, but you’re too out of it to know if its to you or himself.

"you alright?" seungcheol asks softly, his hand resting on your hip as he looks down at you with concern. his touch is gentle, almost hesitant, as if he's checking for any sign of discomfort.

you nod, your breath still ragged, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "yeah, i'm good. just... didn't expect that." your voice is breathy, the lingering effects of the moment still making your body tingle.

seungcheol smirks, clearly pleased with the reaction. "you sure you're not too overwhelmed?" he teases, his hand moving to brush a strand of hair out of your face.

you laugh softly, the sound shaky but genuine. "im fine" you reply, looking up at him with a playful glint in your eye. "was that your way of saying you like me too?"

“it was.” he smirks, eyes locking onto yours. “think you can go for one more round?”

he really is going to be the death of you.

[lov3notts]

End Zone

cheerleading!reader x quidditchplayer!theo

summary: theo gets jealous during his game when he sees Cedric flirting with you. also based on this request

warning: toxic theo, jealousy, unprotected, praising& degrading, creampie, locker room??

a/n: my first request, struggled a lot with this but its done!! I will most likely be MIA due to finals but hopefully I'll have something up for Christmas? enjoy :)

18+only: minors don’t interact

Navigation; masterlist; request rules

The game is in full swing, the stands packed with cheering fans. You're on the sidelines with your cheer squad, leading the crowd in chants and cheers. The adrenaline is pumping through your veins, your body moving in perfect sync with your teammates.

Suddenly, a Slytherin player scores a goal, and the crowd goes wild. In the commotion, Theo makes his way over to the sidelines, Theo zooms past on his broom, he catches your eye and grins, winking at you flirtatiously. You roll your eyes and turn away, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach. 

You've been hooking up with Theo for months now, but he refuses to commit to anything more than casual sex. It's starting to wear on you, the constant string of mixed signals and empty promises.

As you continue your routine, you can't shake the feeling of Theodore's eyes on you. His presence is like a physical force, drawing your attention even as you try to focus on the game. 

The match continues, the score seesawing back and forth, but your mind isn’t focused on the game

you're so lost in thought that you barely register the game going on above you. 

your eyes are focused on the ground, your mind wandering to places you’d rather not go. It's only when you feel a tap on your shoulder that you snap back to reality

Theo soars through the air, the wind whipping at his face, he spots you on the sidelines, distracted but still cheering and swaying your pom-poms. But it's not just your lack of enthusiasm that catches his eye - it's the tall, handsome figure standing beside you, the one with the easy grin and the sparkle in his eye.

Cedric Diggory.

you turn to see Cedric standing beside you, sending a friendly smile.

"Hey there," he says, his Hufflepuff uniform looking crisp and clean despite the intense game.

"Hey, Cedric" you reply, returning his smile. You two make small talk for a few minutes, discussing the game and your respective teams. Cedric is charming and attentive, his blue eyes sparkling with warmth as he listens intently to every word you say.

"I noticed Nott seems to be playing extra hard today. Must be all that pent-up energy from studying for exams." cedric says as he leans closer to you

you chuckle at his joke “yeah, exams”

Theo's grip tightens on his broomstick, his knuckles turning white. He watches as Cedric leans in close, saying something that makes you laugh. The sound of your laughter cuts through the roar of the crowd, piercing Theo's heart like a Bludger.

Jealousy surges through his veins, hot and bitter. Theo's gaze burns into the back of your neck, and you can practically feel the waves of jealousy radiating off him. He plays more aggressively than ever, his broom dipping and weaving as he tries to outmaneuver the ravenclaw team.

His grip tightens on his broom handle as he zooms past the stands, his mind racing.

He knows he has no right to be jealous, not after he told you he didn’t want anything serious. But seeing you with someone else, laughing and smiling like that, it's like a punch to the gut. He wants to march over there and tear Cedric away from you, to remind you that you belong to him.

You can't help but notice Theo’s intense gaze locked on you and Cedric as you chat on the sidelines. Even from across the pitch, you can see the jealousy burning in Theo's eyes, the way his jaw clenched as he watches Cedric lean in close to hear you over the roar of the crowd.

A part of you feels a thrill at seeing Theo so clearly affected by your interaction with another guy. It's a power trip, knowing that you have that kind of hold over him. Theo zips past the other players, his broomstick cutting through the air like a knife. There's a wildness to his flying, a recklessness that both thrills and terrifies you.

you bite your lip, torn between wanting to reassure Theo that there's nothing going on between Cedric and you, and the desire to let him stew in his jealousy a little longer. It's petty, you know, but seeing him so worked up over you is intoxicating.

In the end, you decided to play it cool, focusing your attention on the game and cheering loudly for slytherin. But you can't help sneaking glances at Theo, watching for any sign of how he's handling your conversation with Cedric.

And deep down, you have to admit that a part of you is hoping he'll do something dramatic, something that will force him to confront all his feelings for you once and for all.

As the final whistle blows, announcing Slytherin's victory, the green and silver stands erupt in cheers. you join in the celebration, waving my pom-poms and shouting for your team. But even as you revel in our hard-fought win, your eyes are drawn to Theo.

He's hovering near the ground, his chest heaving with exertion, a triumphant grin on his face. The other Slytherin players mob him, slapping him on the back and congratulating him on his impressive performance. But Theodore seems oblivious to their praise, his gaze fixed on you.

He strides towards you, his movements purposeful and angry. As he approaches, you can see the tension radiating off him, the way his fists clench and unclench at his sides. But then you remember Cedric, still standing beside you, feeling a twinge of anxiety .

When he reaches you, he doesn't even acknowledge Cedric, his gaze laser-focused on you.

Theo grabs your hand roughly, his fingers intertwined with yours as he drags you towards the locker room. His pace is fast, almost frantic, as he weaves through the crowd of celebrating players and cheering fans.

Once inside, he slams the door shut behind you, the sound echoing in the empty room. 

You're alone now, trapped with the angry, jealous Theodore you've managed to provoke.

He turns to face you, his chest heaving with exertion and his eyes dark with a mix of anger and desire.

“Diggory huh? look who's cozying up to the enemy."

You feel your face heating up, a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment rising in your chest. 

"I wasn't cozying up with anyone," you snap, trying to keep your voice steady.  "I was just being friendly. It's part of my job as a cheerleader."

Theo lets out a short, derisive laugh.

"Friendly? Is that what you call it?." He leans in even closer, his lips nearly brushing your ear.

he purrs, his voice low and threatening. "You think you can just toy with me and get away with it?"

his breath hot against your face. "You're mine, dolcezza. Whether you like it or not. And I won't let Hufflepuffs golden boy come between us." His other hand comes up to cup your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle compared to the bruising grip on your arm.

"You belong with me. You always have. And I won't let you forget it."

His hand slides up your thigh, his touch possessive and demanding. your heart pounding in your chest.

You know you should pull away, tell him off for his arrogance and possessiveness. But there's a part of you that thrills at his words, that wants to give in to the desire that's been building.

Theo's lips crash against yours, his kiss rough and hungry. He devours your mouth, his tongue sliding against yours, claiming you as his own. His hands roam over your body, slipping under your cheerleader uniform, his fingers leaving trails of fire in their wake.

When he finally pulls back, you're both breathing heavily, your lips swollen and your skin flushed. Theo's eyes are dark with desire, his gaze roaming over your body with a predatory intensity.

"You had your fun out there, Bella," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "Teasing me, flirting with that prick. Well, now it's my turn."

You watch as he strips off his Quidditch uniform, his lean, muscular body on full display. Your mouth goes dry, your pulse racing at the sight of him.

Theodore turns to face you, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. Theodore leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "Now, let's see if you can follow orders like a good little cheerleader."

He shoves you to your knees, his hand fisting in your hair. You gasp as he forces your head towards his crotch, the bulge in his Quidditch pants impossible to ignore.

"Go on, bella. Show me how sorry you are. Show me that smart mouth of yours can be put to better use than running off at the gutter."

His words are harsh, but you can feel the heat of his arousal pressing against your face. Your heart pounds in your chest as you reach for his zipper, your fingers trembling with a mix of fear and anticipation.

As you free his cock from the confines of his pants, no matter how many times you’ve seen him you can't help but stare. He's huge, thick and hard and throbbing with need.

Theo's hand tightens in your hair, urging you forward.

“Well, someone’s inpatient” you tease 

"Don't make me tell you again, dolcezza. Put that pretty little mouth to work before I really lose my temper."

His words send a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and excitement. You know you're playing a dangerous game, but the thought of submitting to Theodore's desires is just too tempting to resist.

He rocks his hips forward, the head of his cock brushing against your lips. You can feel the heat of his skin, the pulsing need that radiates from his core. Your mouth waters as you imagine the taste of him, the feel of his thick shaft sliding over your tongue.

"Open that smart mouth of yours and put it to good use. Show me how much you want to please me."he warns, his voice a low rumble.

With a shaky breath, you part your lips, letting your tongue dart out to taste the bead of pre-cum that leaks from the tip of his cock.

Theo groans, his grip on your hair tightening as he guides you forward. You open wider, taking him into your mouth inch by delicious inch. The taste of him explodes on your tongue, salty and musky and utterly intoxicating.

As you begin to bob your head, taking him deeper with each movement, Theodore's breath comes in harsh pants. His hips rock forward, meeting your mouth with each downward stroke. You can feel him growing harder, thicker, stretching your lips around his girth.

The locker room is filled with the wet sounds of your sucking, the grunts and groans of Theo's pleasure. You lose yourself in the rhythm, in the feel of his cock sliding over your tongue, hitting the back of your throat with each thrust.

As Theodore's cock slides deeper into your mouth, you can feel him growing harder, thicker, stretching your lips around his girth.

His grip on your hair tightens, forcing you to take him even deeper. You gag slightly as he hits the back of your throat, but the discomfort is quickly overtaken by a sense of power, of control.

You hollow your cheeks, sucking harder, faster. Your tongue swirls around the head of his cock, teasing the sensitive flesh. Theodore groans above you, his hips rocking forward to meet your mouth.

"Fuck, tesoro" he gasps, his voice rough with pleasure. "Just like that. Use that pretty little mouth of yours to make me feel good."

His words spur you on, and you double your efforts. You look up at him through your lashes, your eyes meeting his. The look in his gaze is one of pure, unadulterated lust. He's watching you, drinking in the sight of your lips wrapped around his cock. His free hand moves to grip your chin, holding you in place as he thrusts deeper.

"You like this, don't you?" he growls, his voice low and dangerous. 

"Like being on your knees for me, like having my cock in your mouth. I bet you've been thinking about this all day, haven't you?"

His words send a shiver down your spine, a mix of shame and excitement. You know you shouldn't enjoy this, shouldn't revel in the degradation of it all. But the truth is, you do.

You love the feel of his cock in your mouth, the taste of him on your tongue.

He rocks his hips forward, driving his cock deeper into your throat. You gag and sputter around him, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. But the pain only seems to spur him on, his thrusts becoming harder, faster.

"You wanted to get me all worked up, did you? Wanted to see what I'd do? Well, here's your answer.",

The taste of him fills your senses, the musky scent of his arousal making your head spin. You hollow your cheeks, sucking harder, faster, determined to bring him to the edge.

Theo groans above you, his hips rocking forward to meet your mouth. His grip on your hair tightens, guiding you as you bob your head up and down his length.

 "Fuck, yes,"he hisses, his voice strained with pleasure. "Just like that. You're going to make me cum so hard, tesoro. You're going to swallow every last drop.” your tongue swirling around the sensitive head of his cock, teasing the slit.

Theo's breathing becomes more ragged, his thrusts more erratic. You can tell he's close, his balls tightening as he nears his peak. "That's it" he growls, his voice a low rumble.

"Don't stop. I'm going to cum down your pretty little throat, dolcezza. You're going to drink every last drop like a good girl."

With a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt in your mouth. You can feel him pulsing, throbbing against your tongue as he reaches his climax. Hot, bitter fluid floods your mouth, and you have no choice but to swallow it down.

As he pulls out, a string of cum connects your lips to the head of his cock. He wipes it away with a careless swipe of his thumb, smearing it across your cheek.

"There's a good girl" he purrs, his voice low and satisfied. "You took your punishment well. I think you've learned your lesson about flirting with other boys, haven't you?"

You can only nod, your mouth still full of the taste of him. Your thighs rub together, the ache between them a constant reminder of your own arousal. But you know better than to ask for anything more.

Theo tucks himself back into his pants, his eyes never leaving your face. He looks pleased with himself, a smug smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Get up," he commands, releasing his grip on your hair. "We're not done yet. I still have a few more lessons to teach you."

With shaking legs, you rise to your feet, your knees weak from kneeling on the hard floor.

Theo's hand finds your ass, giving it a rough squeeze as he guides you towards one of the benches.

"Bend over" he orders, his voice leaving no room for argument.

You bend over the bench, Your skimpy cheerleader skirt rides up to reveal the curve of your ass, exposing the lacy panties underneath. You can feel his eyes on you, drinking in the sight of your vulnerable position.

A smirk plays on your lips. You can't help but poke the bear, even as your heart races with anticipation

"Ooh, I'm sooo scared," you drawl, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "Whatever shall I do?

The big bad Slytherin is going to punish me for flirting with another boy. I might just faint from the sheer terror of it all."

You hear Theo's sharp intake of breath behind you, followed by the sound of his palm cracking against your ass. The sting is immediate, a hot burst of pain that sends shockwaves through your body.

"Watch it, Bella" he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "That smart mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble one of these days."

His hand comes down again, harder this time, the force of it sending a jolt of pleasure mixed with pain straight to your core. You bite your lip, trying to stifle the moan that threatens to escape.

"That's it, keep that smart mouth shut,"

Theodore taunts, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he kneads the reddened skin.

"I'm going to fuck you right here, where anyone could walk in and see" Theo whispers, his breath hot against your ear.

"And you're going to take it like a good little slut, aren't you?"

He reaches down, his hand sliding between your legs to cup your aching sex. You're already soaked, your panties clinging to your skin. Theo chuckles darkly as he feels how wet you are.

"Look at you, getting off on this. You're sick, you know that? Teasing me, flirting with other boys, just to get a rise out of me." His fingers slide under your panties, teasing your swollen folds. You can't help but arch into his touch, desperate for more.

"Beg for it, tesoro" he demands, his voice rough with desire.

 "Beg me to fuck you like the naughty little slut you are. Maybe if you beg nicely enough, l'Il give you what you want."His words are cruel, but they only serve to fuel your arousal. You're desperate for him, desperate for the release only he can give you. But you refuse to give him the satisfaction of hearing you beg.

"Fuck you, Theodore" you hiss, glaring back at him over your shoulder.

“awe come on baby, i know you can’t resist me”

His fingers dip inside you, stroking your inner walls. You can't help but moan at the intrusion, your hips bucking back against his hand. Theodore chuckles darkly, his thumb finding your clit and circling it mercilessly.

"That's it, let me hear you," he taunts, his fingers pumping in and out of your dripping core.

Theodore's fingers pump in and out of you, his thumb rubbing circles around your clit. The dual sensations are almost too much to bear, your hips bucking back against his hand as you chase your pleasure.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me," he growls, his voice low and dark

You can't hold back any longer. As his fingers drive deeper, his thumb pressing harder on your clit, you let out a loud, wanton moan.

Your back arches, pushing your hips back against his hand, desperate for more of that exquisite pleasure.

"Fuck, Theo!" you cry out, your voice echoing off the locker room walls. "Please, don't stop!"

Theodore chuckles darkly, his fingers never ceasing their relentless assault on your most intimate places. Your moans grow louder, more desperate, as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

"That's more like it, You sound so pretty when you beg." he purrs, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

Theo's fingers pump harder, faster, his thumb rubbing your clit with merciless precision. Your moans grow louder, more desperate, as he drives you closer and closer to the edge. The wet sounds of your arousal fill the locker room, mixing with the slap of skin on skin as he fucks you with his fingers.

"That's it, tesoro" he growls, his voice low and husky. "Cum for me. Show me how much you want it. I want to feel you clenching around my fingers, begging for more."

You're so close, teetering on the brink of ecstasy, your body trembling with need. With a final, brutal thrust of his fingers, Theo sends you over the edge.

“oh godd” Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your inner walls clenching around his fingers as you cum hard. You cry out, your voice raw with pleasure, your body shaking uncontrollably. Theo doesn't let up, continuing to finger-fuck you through your climax, drawing out your pleasure until you're a boneless, panting mess.

As you come down from your high, Theo withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his mouth. He sucks them clean, his eyes locked on yours as he savors your taste.

"Delicious" he purrs, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "But we're far from done. I'm going to fuck you until you can't walk straight, until the only name you remember is mine."

Theo's hands grip your hips, he positions you on your hands and knees on the bench. his fingers digging into your flesh as he positions himself at your entrance. You can feel the heat of his cock, the hardness of it pressing insistently against your sensitive folds. 

"Spread your legs wider,tesoro” he commands, his voice rough with lust. "Let me see that pretty little cunt." With a brutal thrust, he's inside you, filling you completely.

"Fuck, you're so tight" he groans, his voice strained with pleasure. "I can feel every inch of you squeezing around my cock."

He sets a relentless pace, pounding into you with a force that steals your breath. The bench creaks beneath you, the sound mixing with the wet slap of skin on skin, the grunts and moans of your mutual pleasure.

Theo's hips snap forward, driving his cock deeper with each thrust.

His hands roam your body, groping and squeezing as he fucks you. He reaches around to your front, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in time with his thrusts. The added stimulation sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Mine to fuck, mine to use, mine to claim. Say it." he growls, his voice rough with desire

The moment you hesitate, Theo's hand cracks across your ass in a stinging slap.

"I said, say it" he demands, his voice low and dangerous. "Tell me who you belong to."

He doesn't give you a chance to respond, instead thrusting forward hard and fast.

You cry out at the sudden intrusion, your body tensing at the familiar burn of being filled so completely.

Theodore doesn't pause, pulling back only to slam into you again, setting a brutal pace. The force of his thrusts rocks you forward on the bench, your breasts bouncing with each harsh snap of his hips. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the locker room, mixing with your moans and Theo's grunts of pleasure.

"Fuck, you feel so good" he pants, his hands gripping your hips tight enough to bruise. "So tight, so perfect for my cock.”

You can feel your pleasure building with each thrust, your inner walls clenching around him, desperate for more. Theodore leans over you, his chest pressing against your back as he pounds into you relentlessly.

"Say it," he growls in your ear, his hot breath fanning across your neck. 

"Tell me who you belong to”

You're so close to the edge, your body trembling with the force of your impending orgasm. But you refuse to give in, refuse to give Theodore the satisfaction of hearing you submit. Instead, you clench down hard on his cock, trying to distract him, to throw him off balance.

It works, at least for a moment. Theo curses, his hips stuttering as your walls grip him like a vice. But he quickly recovers, pulling out entirely and flipping you over onto your back. He hovers above you, his eyes dark with lust and frustration.

Theo looms over you, his eyes wild with lust and frustration. You meet his gaze defiantly, refusing to submit, to give him the satisfaction of hearing you beg. Instead, you reach up, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pull him down to you.

"You're mine, Theodore," you whisper, your voice low and seductive. "You've always been mine, even if you won't admit it. Say it. Tell me who you belong to."

Your challenge hangs in the air between you, heavy with unspoken desire. Theo's eyes narrow, his jaw clenching as he struggles to maintain control. But you can see the flicker of uncertainty in his gaze, the momentary crack in his carefully constructed facade.

You arch your back, pressing your breasts against his chest as you wrap your legs around his waist.

"Fuck, Bella" he pants, his voice strained.

"You drive me crazy. You make me want things I shouldn't want, feel things I shouldn't feel. But you're right. I am yours, just as much as you're mine. We belong to each other, whether we like it or not."

Theodore's admission hangs in the air between you, a confession whispered in the heat of passion. He gazes down at you, his eyes softening for a fleeting moment before the hunger returns, dark and intense. His hips move in a slow, deliberate rhythm, each thrust driving him deeper, filling you completely.

"My perfect little minx, my tempting little tease. You drive me insane, make me want to possess every inch of you, claim you in ways no one else ever could." he growls, his voice low and possessive.

His hand slides up your side, his fingers tracing the curve of your breast before palming the soft mound 

Theo's hand slides lower, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing in tight, teasing circles. Your hips buck against him, seeking more of that delicious friction. He chuckles darkly, his breath hot against your skin.

"That's it, my little slut" he purrs, his voice dripping with praise. His hand fists in your hair, tugging your head back as he leans down to claim your mouth in a searing kiss. His tongue delves deep, exploring, conquering, leaving no doubt as to who owns you.

You moan into his mouth, your own tongue tangling with his in a dance of dominance and submission.

Theodore's thrusts grow harder, faster, each one driving you closer to the edge. Your nails rake down his back, leaving red welts in their wake. You can feel your orgasm building, your inner walls clenching around him, desperate for release.

"You're going to be the death of me, dolcezza. But what a way to go." he growls, his lips crashing against yours in a brutal kiss.

He angles his thrusts, hitting that spot inside you that makes your toes curl.

Each stroke sends sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, building the tension coiling in your core.

"Harder," you gasp, your voice raw with need.

"Fuck me harder, Theo. I can take it. I want it." you whine out

Theo obliges, his thrusts becoming more erratic, more brutal. The bench creaks beneath you, the metal frame rattling with each powerful stroke. You can feel him growing harder inside you, his cock throbbing against your walls.

Theo's hand snakes between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing in tight, teasing circles. The added stimulation is almost too much, your body tensing as your orgasm approaches.

"Cum for me, Bella " he demands, his voice low and commanding. "Cum on my cock like a good girl. Show me who you belong to."

Theo groans, his hips stuttering as he nears his own climax.

"Cum for me, cum all over my cock. Fuck, I'm going to fill you up so good."

“omg theo!” You cry out, your back arching off the bench as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you. your voice raw with pleasure, your body shaking uncontrollably. Theo doesn't let up, continuing to pound into you, riding out your climax with his own.

Even as your orgasm crashes over you, Theodore doesn't let up. He continues to pound into you, his hips slamming against yours with relentless force. The sensation is almost too much to bear, your overstimulated nerves screaming with pleasure.

"Fuck, you feel incredible when you cum" Theo groans, his voice strained with effort. 

"So tight, so perfect. I could fuck you like this forever, make you cum over and over again until you're a satisfied mess."

"Theo" you moan, your voice raw and desperate. "I can't... I can't take anymore. It's too much."

But even as you protest, your hips are moving in time with his, meeting each of his thrusts with your own. You're lost in a haze of pleasure, your body responding to his touches even as your mind struggles to keep up.

“It's okay baby just a little longer, you can handle it right?”

you nod not being able to say anything else

His hip quicken as he feels his release approaching 

“fuck fuck fuck” he cries out, his voice raw with pleasure

Theo slams into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt inside your tight heat. His body tenses, his muscles rigid as his climax hits him like a freight train. With a guttural groan, he finds his release, his cock pulsing and twitching as he fills you with his seed.

The sensation is overwhelming, your oversensitive body shaking and quivering with the force of his orgasm. You cling to him, your nails digging into his back, your body milking him for all he's worth.

Gradually, his thrusts slow, his body relaxing as he comes down from his high. He collapses beside you on the bench, both of you gasping for breath, your bodies glistening with sweat. For a moment, there is only the sound of your ragged breathing, the pounding of your hearts gradually slowing.

Theo reaches out, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face. His touch is gentle, almost tender, a stark contrast to the brutal passion of moments before. He looks at you, his eyes dark and intense, a hint of vulnerability in their depths.

You reach up, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pull him down for a kiss. It's slow, tender, a stark contrast to the brutal passion of moments before. You both pour all your feelings into the kiss, all the emotions you’ve been trying to deny, to suppress.

When you finally break apart, you're both breathless, smiling softly at each other. Theodore's hand slides down your side, his fingers interlacing with yours.

"no more games" he whispers as he kisses your forehead "just you & me okay?"

“just you and me” 

ᥫ᭡reblog's & comment's are appreciatedᥫ᭡

©lov3notts ,do not copy, translate or claim any of my writing or works as your own.

tag list: @leona-hawthorne @kaliuchislov4r @esmerai-artemis @5cr3w101

[finniestoncrane]

Virginal vault dweller reader you say?? I'd eat that up (and so would Cooper, heh) but seriously I would read the hell out of that if you're up for it <3

Different Up Here

Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader, word count: 6.3k anon thank you lmao i had already started drafting this, so vault dweller reader isn't quite a virgin but they are definitely inexperienced and have never known pleasure like the kind that cooper can offer 🤎 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: power imbalance, dubious consent because once you've said yes to cooper you can't change your mind, overstimulation, crying, oral sex, fingering, instructional, full penetration babiessss i realised i never tag that shit but yeah it's in here lmao, cumming inside, no protection, sweet coop afterwards but only briefly

If anyone else had asked you in that moment how you were, you couldn't have answered accurately without any hint of sarcasm and irritation. You were being worn down, like buildings by the sands of the desert. Each little molecule of your optimism being torn away from you, painful like plucking a hair. But when Cooper asked you, you tried your best to push down your knee jerk response.

"Let's see, shall we? Since leaving the vault a month ago, bravely in search of resources and supplies for my friends, I have killed, maimed, and eaten things I hope to never think of again. I'm in a constant cycle of very, very stressed and then very, very bored where there is no happy medium between fearing for my life and wishing for death. And oh, by the way, I'm sweating buckets the whole time because it's deathly fucking warm. Thank you for asking, Cooper!"

Instead, you shrugged and offered him at least a partial truth.

"It sounds silly... but I'm kind of bored."

A dry chuckle passed over Cooper's lips.

"Heh, that's a new one for out here."

Sensing an opportunity to at least get some conversation out of him, you sat up on the rusty bed frame, your body sinking into the almost entirely flattened mattress as you crossed your legs and did your best to get Cooper to talk more than a sentence at a time.

"Really? I would have thought you'd be bored a lot, especially when there's no raiders, or mirelurks, or scavengers, or feral ghouls, or super mutants, or roving gangs of-"

"See, this is why I'm never bored. Always somethin' or someone to be killin'."

"But what about like... now? When there's nothing else to do. There's no magazines, no books, no TV."

You watched as Cooper turned from you with a slight smile. You knew the one, the familiar grin that meant you'd divulged some information about your life in the vaults, something he always found so amusing. It was your naivety, your optimism. He was endlessly fascinated by it, as though listening to you talk about it reminded him of something he had before.

That fascinated you. It made you want to stay around him, the way he listened silently as you talked about the old films that were on the holotapes, the food that was still fresh and available, the music you could hear whenever you wanted to, not reliant on some two-bit radio host. He paid attention to you. And any time his deep, brown eyes focused on your lips it made your heart flutter in an admittedly unexpected manner.

Remembering that feeling, you tried again, hoping that your next approach might be something that interested him a little more than just conversation.

"You know how we used to pass time in the vaults?"

Over the sound of the evening breezes that whipped up the sand you could still hear Cooper sigh before he spoke.

"Now if you tell me that you wanna go out there again tonight to find an old blast radius board... well I am just going to have to shoot you."

You laughed at what you hoped was a joke and waved him off, despite the fact that he was still turned away from you, unable to see your gesture as he tried ignoring you in what you assumed was the hope that you might shut up and leave him alone.

"No, no no no no no. Just..."

The lump in your throat felt like it was about to choke you, so you swallowed the clump of nerves quietly, your voice trembling as you finished your sentence.

"... fooling around... y'know?"

Cooper turned to face you. You had piqued his interest, and you couldn't help but show the giddy glee on your face, the smallest smile crossing your lips as your eyes widened. But his words wiped away all hope that you had garnered in that short span of time.

"Oh... oh darlin'."

He laughed a little, each little sound of the short, sharp giggle like a slap to the face.

"I don't think you're ready for that at all."

You raised an eyebrow, defiant, irritated, and keen to know how he thought he had you pegged so quickly. You'd never talked about anything like that with him before. Was he assuming that you were a virgin based on how you behaved around him alone? Maybe he figured that the lack of flirting on your part was down to a complete lack of experience, when in reality, it was because every flirtatious quip he threw your way made you so nervous and flustered you felt like you might throw up.

"How come I'm not ready? I mean, I've... I've done stuff... I've done it!"

"The fat you're not saying it how it is makes me think that you are absolut-"

"I've had sex, Cooper. I've fucked before. I've been fucked."

Blinking off the irritation at being interrupted by you, Cooper pushed up the brim of his hat and stared directly at you, as though he was examining your, to see if you would stand up for yourself any further.

"By who? One of your little buddies underground? Fucking like little bunnies? I don't think that qualifies you, sweetheart."

"Why? Sex is sex..."

You said it with such confidence. As if you really knew. As if you hadn't spent your teenage years practising on your hand, holding a pillow close, lining up for that one girl in the vault who would sell practice kisses for extra bubble-gum. You'd had sex before, of course. You weren't a liar. Just because you'd only ever done it once didn't render it nonfactual. Just because it had only lasted for all of four minutes. Just because you weren't sure you even orgasmed, and your friend had told you that you'd know if you'd orgasmed. Just because it was all over so quickly, and he'd run off before anyone could catch you both, avoiding you at every opportunity after that.

"... Isn't it?"

"Oh no it ain't. Besides, like I keep telling you, it's different up here. Everything's different up here. And that includes fuckin'."

The way he said the word, consonants enunciated with such grit and vigour, filled your stomach with knots that began to tighten as you considered in what way things were so different.

"What exactly do you mean by that?"

Cooper sighed, exasperated, resigning himself to the fact that you were going to keep talking to him regardless of his short replies and attempts to end the conversation.

"You are a dog with a bone, huh? Ain't gonna let it go."

His yellowed teeth were exposed as his lips pulled back in a baring, mischievous smile. Those knots doubled, the ends being pulled by tension in your nervous system as Cooper's smirk put you into a dazed stupor.

"No, sir."

"Now, I don't remember signing on to be your personal tutor in all things apocalypse. Do I really need to show you how everything works up here?"

As your cheeks began to blush, you nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes, sir."

You were hopeful for just a bit of a distraction. Something to help take the stress away. To relieve the tension that had been building up between you and Cooper as of late. You'd been studying him, watching the way he looked at you, fascinated by your perceived, and frankly obvious, innocence. The way his fingers moved, contributing to the skilful way he handled his gun and his ropes. The confidence, the charisma, the charms.

You wanted him, but you weren't quite sure how to broach the situation without it seeming desperate. But you were past that now. You were desperate For anything, just something. Something to cure the monotony of walking and hiding and fighting and surviving. You didn't want to just survive. You wanted to at least find a semblance of fun and pleasure in this nightmare you had found yourself in. And in the vaults, when board games and books and debates got boring, there was always fucking. That was what you desired most right now. The fact that Cooper happened to be the closest target for your desires was just a sweet miracle, or a cruel tease depending on how willing he was.

And luckily, he seemed agreeable.

"Well then, how about you come over here and let ol' Coop show you a little thing or two about how dirty you can really get up here in the mean, dusty Wasteland, hm?"

Your excitement was palpable, even though you were trying to keep your composure. There was no escaping the echo of the giddy squeal you let out as you jumped up from the bed and made your way over to Cooper. He waited in the far corner of the room, setting himself down on an old armchair as you stepped towards him, slapping his thighs as an indication of where he wanted you. And you did as you were told, following his instructions, knowing they hadn't led you astray so far in your time together.

It felt awkward at first, being so close to him. You shifted your weight nervously, trying to get comfortable while making sure Cooper was still at ease, which of course, he was. He always was. Nothing stirred him, he was forever at peace. Competent in any situation. Quick to adapt. And as you fidgeted and fussed, you felt his strong hands pushing you forward on his lap, until your chests were practically pressed together, his hands skirting over your lower back as he held you still. In command. In control. The sudden sensation of his hands on your body made your breath hitch, a soft, surprised squeal on the inhale that had Cooper raising his brow at you.

"Now... you agree that you asked for this, alright? Because I am not going to put my effort into entertaining your little whims if you're gonna get fussy and decide it's too much for you. I did warn you."

"Yes, you did, and I really don't think you needed to. I doubt there's too much different about it, and I've picked up what I needed to know pretty quickly from your other lessons, haven't I?"

Your retaliation to his insistence that you needed him to teach you everything, and that some things just might prove themselves a little too hard even for your levels of enthusiasm, had irritated him when he'd first met you. But now your optimism and sheer refusal to believe anything was too much for you were a source of entertainment for him. A challenge.

"That's fine then, darlin'. But I'll remember that."

His eyes bore into your soul, keeping your focus on him as he dared you to look away. They sparkled as he ran his tongue over his lips, the pretence of preparing for his next words covering the obvious flirtation in the way he dragged the flat muscle along his chapped skin.

"So, gimme a benchmark here, lil lady. How much foreplay was involved in your previous encounters? I'd hate to leave you high and dry."

"Foreplay...? What... uh, what is that?"

Cooper sighed, rolling his eyes before closing his eyelids over gently.

"Well, it's something like this."

He pushed a loose strand of hair back behind your ear, rough fingers following the curve and grazing over your neck as he let them drift down the front of your chest, tickling the exposed skin as far as your jumpsuit would allow before he took a hold of the zip at the front. A quick flit of his eyes up to you seemed to ask for permission, and your small, almost imperceptible nod, told him to keep going.

Slowly, painfully so, he pulled the zip down, watching as the centre of your torso was slowly revealed to him. Smooth skin, in comparison to his anyway, clear of any unnatural blemishes or war wounds. One calloused digit followed down your sternum to your stomach and back up, hooking under the left side of the fabric and pulling it over, then the other, exposing the top half of your body to him.

Cooper traced his fingertips over the top of your breasts, watching as your chest moved in and out, slowly, but exaggeratedly. The knots in your stomach felt like they might burst with the tension as his sharp, ragged nails crossed over your hardening nipples, a gentle tingle coursing through your veins.

"Well?"

"No... n-nothing like that... just grabbing..."

"Oh yeah? You like that? How about this?"

He closed two fingers around your nipple, one hand still on your back to keep you balanced as your body reacted to his touch. Between the two digits, you felt your nipples heating up, the slight, burning pain from the way he squeezed them sending a signal down your spine that seemed to affect every part of you. Tighter, tighter, and then as your eyes closed a little more, eyelids pressed tight, he would ease up to offer some relief.

"You like that? Like it rough?"

"I think... I think I like both."

"So, something like this?"

He teased your nipples once more, pressing harder with his fingertips, pulling them out and jiggling your breasts as he tugged at them, this lewder act interspersed with a gentle caress as he held your breast against the palm of his hand, carefully cupping it as he flicked his thumb over the sensitive and completely erect nipple.

You bit your lip, trying to keep quiet, Coop's hand moved swiftly from your body to your cheeks, popping the lip back out as he pressed his thumb and forefinger into your face. Understanding the message, and seemingly showing this in your wide-eyed gaze, he let his rough, leathery hand make its way back down to your breast, cupping it once more as he spoke.

"Different, see? Pleasure is hard to come by out here. You gotta do it right when you've got the chance."

Cooper leaned into your neck, whispering the words low and slowly, his dry, chapped lips skimming over your skin as he continued.

"I bet down there they didn't know the first thing about real pleasure. Takes time, something like that. You gotta learn the body, gotta make it feel good."

His teeth grazed over your shoulder and back up along your neck before he pulled back, watching your eyes refocus from the haze of arousal.

"Did they make you feel good?"

"No."

You were confident in that statement. It hadn't felt good. It felt rushed. Clumsy. Shameful. And as you pondered it, your mouth remained open in a slight pout which trembled as Cooper asked his next question.

"And what about your pretty lips... did they kiss them?"

"A little..."

Cooper leaned in, his rough lips pressing onto yours with firm contact, his tongue staying in place as though he imagined that might be a bit too much for you right now. But that same level of restraint didn't keep him from letting his teeth catch onto your bottom lip, pulling it out, only letting go when you winced in surprise as the suddenness of the action.

"Didn't bite them either. Of course not, what am I thinking? That would be a little too adventurous for your kind."

His face took on a darker tone as he smiled knowingly towards you.

“And what about these pretty lips?”

Before you could piece together the question, his hand was diving into your jumpsuit, pushing down the front and past the waist, stroking against the front of your underwear which, by now, was soaking wet with your arousal.

“They touch these lips, huh?”

You gasped as he pushed your underwear to the side, stroking his fingers along your slick, plump pussy lips, withdrawing them soon after to taste you on his tongue, the way you had watched him taste the blood of enemies, the blood of victims.

“Stand up, darlin’… Why don’t you take that suit off, hm? Get yourself comfy.”

As you raised yourself up from his hips, your legs wobbled under you, not quite steady enough to support you so soon after being reduced to jelly by Cooper’s touch, his caramelised words that filled your ears, the sharp twang of his accent, the delicate cadence, the power rumbling underneath like an almost silent bassline.

“Do it slowly though.”

Cooper watched carefully as you stood nervously before him, shuffling out of your suit, stripping for him, your hips moving from side to side slow and steady, unintentionally sultry in the way you moved. Without taking his eyes from you he reached for his canteen, taking a long sip from it as you let your suit fall down over your legs, stepping out of it and pushing it to the side with your feet.

“That’s it, darlin’. Can’t do this half-hearted. I need to have access to all of you there. Now come sit back down.”

You held your arms in front of you, feeling far too exposed for the shelter you’d found for the evening. No windows, no locks on the doors. But it was difficult to focus on that worry for too long as you watched Cooper’s tongue flit back out over his lips, clear strands of drool sparkling in the light as he took you in, hungrily, dreamily.

“Turn around though. You face that way.”

The metal buttons on the front of his duster coat were cold against the skin of your back, but you leaned into them anyway. Cooper’s hand curved around your neck and up under your chin, holding your face forward.

“You keep an eye out, holler if you see anything coming. I’ll do everything else.”

A faint clicking sound, the safety on his gun being flicked to off, before those same fingers draped over your mound and down on to your lips, spreading them apart, the cool air of the decrepit room cooling the heat of your hot, aching cunt. With two fingers holding your lips apart, he let the middle digit tap against your clit, each tiny sensation turning your blood cold before heating it exponentially, a cold sweat beginning to form on your brow as you felt a tingle in your abdomen.

The finger that tapped the sensitive bud began stroking it from side to side, laying flat against it length wise as Cooper strummed your body, still holding your chin in his hands, smiling to himself every time your back arched away from him in intense pleasure. Every nerve-ending was at his mercy. He was right, it was different up here. But you wondered how much of that was the Wasteland and it’s effect on sexuality and pleasure, and how much of it was just him. Cooper Howard, Wasteland bounty hunter, a past life he refused to talk about, the most charismatic monster you had ever met. His fingers, daintily crossing over your clit, as you felt his breath, silent except for an occasional hum of satisfaction in the form of a long moan. Maybe it was just Cooper who was different.

It was hard to focus on this new line of though as his hard fingertips clamped down on your clit, pinching it as he rolled it between his fingers. Even harder when he let his hand drop from your neck and instead began teasing at your nipples once more. Soft, cruel flicks over the hardened bumps, his fingers at work on your body, his lips kissing at the back of your neck. Moans growing louder, more frequent, as he let himself enjoy the act of making you squirm. You could tell he was having fun, as you rolled your hips back a little, feeling the thick bulge of his stiffening cock against your rear. You wondered how it might feel, how it might look, and what he could do differently with it.

“Cooper… Coop… I think I’m going to cum…”

His movements quickened, cock twitching against your body as he pinched tighter and pressed his fingers harder against your cunt.

“Don’t you dare, little lady.”

“Ok I’ll… I’ll try but… you have to… stop… please stop… Coop…”

He ignored your please, the whining, desperate begging as you tried to stop your body from the natural, encouraged reaction.

“Have some self-control, sweetheart.”

“Cooper, I really can’t… please… please stop touching me…”

“I absolutely will not.”

Your fingers dug into his thighs, but you noticed that you refused to move away from him. You wanted to do as he asked, wanted to hold yourself back from the brink of orgasm to prolong his touch, but you couldn’t risk him actually stopping, fearing that your body might crumble if his fingers left your quivering, pathetic body for only a second.

Each stroke against your increasingly wet and sensitive pussy had you trembling and shaking, and Cooper had to remove his hand from your breast to keep you steady, placing it under your chin and holding you steady by the neck.

“I am warning you, missy.”

“Cooper… I can’t stop…”

You shuddered and whined as your body gave in to the temptation, feeling a rush of heat and relief as you came on his lap, your arousal coating his pants, adding to the collection of stains and wear on them. But he didn’t stop then.

“No wait… seriously, Cooper… I can’t… I can’t take much more, honestly…”

“Listen, I told you. I said you better not cum. I wasn’t done with you yet.”

Your eyes began to sting with tears of exasperation as your body kept on pushing to its limits, conjuring up another wave of climax, tormenting you with never-ending bouts of arousal that kept you rutting against him, despite how painful it was to keep writhing into his body. You could feel your stomach knotting again, not much time between each orgasm to relax, and you dug your hands into his thighs, pushing your body up off of him as you tensed completely.

“Ok, this time, you do it on my command. You do it when I say you can, alright?”

“Cooper…”

“Don’t give me that pleading shit, you asked me to show you how things are done. Well this is how Cooper fuckin’ Howard does things. So are you ready? You gonna come for me?”

“C-coop… I’ll… I’ll try…”

“Good girl, now you keep that mouth making those whines and moans. I don’t need you to call out my name or anything, I know I’m all you’re thinking about.”

The praise, the self-confidence, the way his fingers seemed to be pulling your orgasm out, motioning for it to come closer to him.

“Come on, darlin’, come on…”

Your vision blurred as the climax came over you, body rolling and convulsing as you came once more at Cooper’s insistence, your cheeks stained with tears, salted water rolling through the layers of grime and clearing paths to your chin.

As you settled back down onto his lap with a shudder, you felt Cooper’s fingers stroking through your hair. He was surprisingly gentle, oddly calm, but you supposed that you deserved his kindness as you had done as he had asked, making up for your previous indiscretion. He was almost cooing, shushing you as you found your breath, establishing your sense of self once more after the overstimulating orgasm that shook your core.

“You seen enough of the big bad world for one day then?”

You probably had, but you still found yourself shaking your head, ignoring the way your body reacted with a violent twitch at the notion of Cooper’s hands delivering intense pleasure.

“A glutton for punishment, hm? Or just keen to learn?”

As you pondered your answer, Cooper seemed to have come to the conclusion for you, as he tapped your hips and began to shift underneath you.

“Alright then, get onto your knees.”

Positioning yourself at his feet, you couldn’t help but look up at him, catching his eyes as he looked down at you with that unique brand of disdain and intrigue he had somehow mastered. You knew what was coming, what was about to happen, and your mouth began watering at the thought. What he might taste like. What he might look like.

You didn’t have to imagine for long though, as you could see his fingers working the belt of his pants, loosening it, unzipping his fly, and gripping his semi-erect cock at the base as he took it out, brandishing it. He kept close attention on your own eyes, a soft sigh of relief imperceptibly escaping his chest as he noticed your pupils widen, your mouth opening in preparation for him.

It was exactly as you had expected. The texture of the shaft was similar to that of his cheeks and his forearms, a similar colouring, though darker at the base and on the shaft which was tinted red. Thick, purple tinged veins covered it, winding around the length, cutting across the ridges of the scars.

“You can come closer, darlin’. I don’t know what they told you about mutations and radiation effects down there in your little utopia, but I can assure you… it doesn’t bite.”

The fear was palpable, clearly, but it was nothing to do with Cooper’s body and everything to do with your lack of experience, which, despite you arguing otherwise, was becoming plainly obvious even to you. You had only ever touched a cock with your hands outside of being quickly fucked. Several times you’d been cajoled into quickly stroking an erection under the blankets before your partner ran off to the bathroom, clean and tidy, flushing away the sins. And you were very well aware that there was always the option to suck on one, but it had never presented itself. It had never seemed that appealing to you. Until you were faced with Cooper’s.

He hadn’t even asked you to do either yet, but you found yourself curious, salivating over the thought of him, mind racing as you imagined how he might feel against your tongue.

“Can I taste it… you?”

Cooper smiled warmly, one of the few times you had seen him look at you with genuine pride.

“Now that is using your initiative. Of course you can.”

You kept your hands to yourself as you leaned in towards his body, content to let Cooper wield his length at you, his hand firm around the base as you inched closer, tongue pressed out over your lips. A strand of drool collected and spilled forward, hitting the floor in a soft patter just before the tip of your tongue came into contact with the tip of his cock.

A lot of the movements were instinctual, following your desires more than what you thought might be protocol as you dragged your tongue up the shaft and swirled over the blushing head of his cock. It tasted bitter, but in a pleasant way.  Savoury, not sweet. Salted, a tang that stayed there for a few seconds after your tongue had moved on to another spot. A flavour you found yourself craving now.

Cooper gripped tighter and pushed forward, taking you by surprise as he slid himself into your mouth, his free hand moving to the back of your head, fingers curling into your hair. As the taste of him hit the back of your tongue, cock almost touching your throat, you coughed and spluttered a little.

“Fuck me, darlin’… do you need me to show you how to do this too?”

He looked down at you, filled with pity as he saw your face. Red cheeks, puffed out, lips stretched over the girth of his cock, tears welling up in your eyes as you struggled to breathe.

“Breath through your nose… breathe in…”

You followed his instructions, instantly calmed when you found your lungs filling with air once more. Almost immediately back to enjoying yourself, the feeling of Cooper inside of you, the control he had as he held your head against him.

“Now… you don’t want to choke too much, so keep your tongue flat… yeah, just like that…”

It was so much easier like that, and you could feel your cheeks getting warmer and redder as you realised that not only had you embarrassed yourself with your spluttering and lack of knowledge, but that Cooper had clearly done this a lot.

“And your teeth… well, usually they’ll tell you to keep ‘em outta the way, but you know me… gotta be different…”

Taking the hint, you let your jaw close slightly, the pain of the stretch lessened, your teeth scraping along the top of his shaft as your tongue worked the underneath, sucking and rolling as much as you could while keeping it flat.

He didn’t say much else, and you couldn’t tell if he was particularly enjoying himself. It worried you, the fact that he had specific preferences, the way it was so clear how much more experienced he was than you. How many others had there been? And were they all better than you? As your mind wandered to your anxieties, you completely missed the fact that you had begun to drool all over yourself until Cooper relaxed his grip on your head and wiped at your chin with his thumb. Catching your eyes and sensing some of your worries, he was surprisingly quick to soothe you.

“You can swallow or spit or let it all spill out, I don’t mind makin’ a mess darlin’. But whatever you’re doing, you keep that up.”

You were so pathetically grateful for the encouragement, for the tiniest semblance of praise, that you felt yourself moaning involuntarily. The soothing motion of sucking on his cock, the taste of something new, the comforting knowledge that he was happy with your efforts. You could feel your clit throbbing, aroused by Cooper’s satisfaction, how pleased he was with the way you worked him over.

Which is why it surprised you so much when he pulled his cock from your mouth, your lips slipping off of it with a disgustingly lewd popping sound, drool spilling onto your chin in long strands which stretched from your lips to his cock and tore apart as he distanced himself from you.

And again, that sympathetic gaze, the way he could tell what you were thinking before you even said it.

“Oh, don’t you look at me with those big, sad eyes. You got nothin’ to worry about, sweetheart. That was good, ‘specially for a first try…”

He winked to you as he spoke, causing your heart to skip enough beats that you thought you might die there and then.

“… It’s just that I’m all slicked up and ready to go now… so you wanna bend over for me? Or do you wanna come sit on my lap?”

“Uh… lap, please… I was kinda bent over for the last… first time.”

“Well, you come and take a seat then, darlin’, let ol’ Coop show you something new.”

You nervously settled your entirely nude body back down onto his thighs. Cooper’s hands were gentle against your shoulders as he pulled you backwards with him, leaning at a slight angle in the chair, his cock rigid and firm as it sat against your waiting cunt, coated in your drool which almost seemed to shimmer with the dancing light of the fire.

Then, so carefully, so gently, far more than you’d ever seen him be before, Cooper took hold of his cock at the base and slid it inside of you, one hand on your stomach as he braced you, keeping your body steady as he inserted himself further and further between your clenching walls.

“Bigger than before?”

You nodded, biting your lip as you felt the distinct stretch, his rough, textured cock forcing its way inside your cunt, pressed up to the hilt, testing your limits.

“Better?”

“Mhm…”

“Speak up, darlin’.”

With your voice strained and breathy, you managed to form some words.

“Yes… it’s better.”

“That’s it, good girl. Now, I’m gonna buck my hips, ok? You just try and keep your balance.”

Below you, Cooper shifted a little, his hips rolling backwards, inches of his cock escaping your tight, aching cunt, before he rolled them forwards and upwards, back into you. A slow, steady pace that he focused on keeping until you felt warmer, more relaxed.

“You got this, it’s like riding a horse.”

“I’ve never… hm… ridden a horse…”

Cooper chuckled, a low and rasping sound that sent shivers over your skin and seemed close enough to you that it was coming from inside of your body.

“Never ridden a ghoul before either, but you’re handling it alright for a first timer.”

You were coping ok, you had to admit, but you could feel your stomach muscles tensing, the knots back in full force as they tensed and tightened, loosened and frayed with each pump of his cock within you.

“Ah… Cooper…”

“Too much, darlin’? Does it hurt?”

There was a sense of genuine care in his tone, as though he had taken it upon himself to show you that yes, things were different up there in the Wasteland, but that didn’t always mean they were worse. Some things were good, if not a little bit difficult to take at first.

“A little…”

Cooper tilted your chin up, forcing your head to lean back completely against his shoulder. In a delicate move, one far more romantic than you imagined from him, he ran his thumb over your lips, angling his neck to look at them, his own mouth open ever so slightly, a monotonous panting as he kept his hips moving, increasing the speed and the force at which he entered you.

His eyes flicked up suddenly, looking into yours, catching your gaze and holding unblinking eye contact as he spoke.

“I know… I know… Just a little longer, though…”

He closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling of his cock pushing against your body, enveloped in your hot, wet, velvety interior.

“I know it hurts… but I ain’t stopping, so don’t even ask… here…”

You watched as he brought a finger to your lips, offering it up to you.

“…you bite down on that if it gets too much, ok… but don’t hold back on those sweet sounds… I wanna hear you scream.”

With that vaguely threatening remark, he thrust up into you, banging against your body, spurring on your orgasm but unleashing a dull ache that spread through every sensitive part of you.

“Won’t… be long… keep it together… good girl…  good girl…”

It felt good, the pain, the sting, the ache, the shivers. The fact that he was using you, finding pleasure in you. All of it culminating in Cooper’s nearing orgasm which you could sense was closing in on him. His movements were becoming more frantic, sloppier, and he was mouthing all manner of sweet nothings as he let his façade slip away.

And those soft mumbles opened up into a wide roar as he clung to your body, the hand on your neck cutting off the air to your lungs only briefly, one hand on your lap pressing sharp indents into your skin as he forced himself into you. The last few moments of his fevered thrusting, fucking you wildly, drool pooling in the corner of his mouth as he rutted into you in a dazed stupor before his body gave in. His cock throbbed, each pulse sending another rope of cum against your insides, filling you with his seed as he shuddered finally, slinking backwards into the chair and taking in a deep breath as you removed yourself from him.

You’d only managed to take a few steps forward before Cooper addressed you, opening his eyes to watch you standing there awkwardly, his cum dripping down your thighs, a warmth that quickly turned cool in the air of the room.

“Did I say you could get up?”

Panic settled in your chest, aware that you had waited until you felt his muscles relax, his body retreating from you, before you slid off his cock, expecting him to push you away anyway, like your first time. You assumed he was finished, and you weren’t sure you were ready for the idea that he might not be done with you.

“Are we… oh, Cooper, I really can’t take anymore.”

Even as you stood, you could feel your legs shaking, weakened by the intense orgasms, the way they tightened against his every movement.

“That’s different up here too then, I suppose.”

Cooper stood up from the chair, pacing towards you with a purposeful stride as he pushed his cock back into his pants, zipping them up as he reached you. You inhaled sharply as he placed his hand at the back of your head, those knots in your stomach beginning to form again, worried that a further, albeit pleasurable punishment was on the cards. But you were surprised as he slid his free hand around your back, tugging at your waist as he pulled you in close to him. A quick smile before his lips were on yours, the brim of his hat pushed upwards as he leaned into the kiss. Warm, gentle, the kind of kiss you’d seen in movies. Practised and confident, meaningful, sincere.

When he pulled back, your body following him a little before you settled back onto your feet, he smiled warmly.

“Sweet with the sour, darlin’. You gotta keep ‘em wanting more.”

“M-more?”

More as in now? Or more as in the idea that Cooper had enjoyed himself and would be willing to offer that kind of pleasure to you again. And he answered with a wink.

“Definitely. There’s a still a lot you’ve got to learn.”

[pomefioredove]

if its ok can i request a overblot boys and ruggie and kamil with a reader that just forgets to eat? like they can go the whole day without eating then suddenly they just get dizzy cause they haven't eaten and when they get asked why they passed out/not ate they're like "lol yeah i forgot to eat my bad gang🧍🏻" they're just so nonchalant and act like its whatever😭its ok if not if this makes you uncomfortable!! Love your blog pookie and make sure YOU eat properly💥💥

ahh... just like me fr. this ask actually reminded me to eat, thank you!

summary: reader who forgets to eat type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, ruggie, azul, jamil, kalim, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, mentions of food and not eating!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Riddle is also guilty of this

it's not that he's neglectful, it's just that...

...well... he's a little neglectful

it's usually Trey who has to remind him to take breaks from studying

none of that will stop him from scolding you, though

"What were you thinking, going a whole day without a meal? It's no wonder you're always so tired!"

expect lots of snacks from him after he's done berating you

he sends someone every day to make sure you've had something

(both a blessing and a curse)

you'll be in your room then suddenly Che'nya is there asking if you had lunch yet

and if not, you'll be recieving an invitation to Heartslabyul for tea

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Leona can't be bothered to ask why you're always so... out of it

he just assumes that's your personality

he even teases you for it, once or twice

then Jack offhandedly mentions that you rarely eat until dinner, and he gets all... worried

Ugh

suddenly, his room is always stocked with your favorite snacks from Sam's

what? no, they're not for you. he's just taken a liking to 'em. but you're welcome to have some if you'd like

his act is unconvincing

"What? Stop looking at me like that. I'm not some sap. I'm just making sure you don't go passing out on me,"

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Ruggie is worried that Crowley's cut your food rations

he'd been mooching off of you for a few months now, after all

plus, he knows what it's like to go hungry

of course, he doesn't outright ask. he doesn't want to embarrass you or anything

he just... casually offers to split meals and comes over once a week with half of his forage greens

"What, this? Nah, I just had extra. What, you're complaining about free food? Shishishi,"

you repay the gesture by making him a few meals, and it becomes a little tradition between the two of you

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

why, oh why, does Azul have to care about you so much?

he's become familiar that exact look on your face; distant, dizzy, disoriented...

and he's caught himself mid-scold far too many times

"Have you no sense of self-preservation? You can't keep relying on others to care for you; you'll only be taken advantage of,"

...and, of course, he's the poor soul who cares for you

he convinces himself that verbal reminders cost nothing

then he starts sending the tweels to make sure you've eaten

and then he insists you drop by the Mostro Lounge at least once a day

it's not that he's giving you his time and energy for free

he's just making an investment in you!

that's it. NOTHING ELSE! (<- lies)

(cue tweels giggling in the background)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

poor Jamil

first Kalim, and now he has you to worry about, too?

of course; he has no obligation to help. that's what he tells himself

nothing will happen if he just ignores you

...except that sinking feeling in his stomach

Sevens, help him...

he starts letting you help around the kitchen

just... tidying up, doing the dishes, etc

and if you happen to want a bite of what he's cooking? ohoho, who is he to deny you the chance to test for poison?

(feigns to mention that these dishes have already been tasted)

"Good? Why, I'm flattered. You're welcome to help any time- how about tomorrow?"

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Kalim will never pass a chance to host

you offhandedly mention that you forget to eat sometimes? just come over for breakfast!

and lunch

and dinner!

and you'll stay for dessert, too, won't you?

he's nothing if not gracious, and he has a penchant for taking care of others

he likes feeling useful, after all

just be ready to give him your full thoughts and feelings on every dish; he's already making a mental list of your favorites to serve every time you come over

"Hungry? No problem! We have all your faves waiting for you. What music do you want to listen to while we eat?"

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

you know that Vil loves you, right?

so, so much?

good. because that love makes him want to shake you

of all the stupid things...

it's no use trying to hide it from him; you could look and act completely normal and he'd still see right through you

he can just tell

he has to restrain himself from threatening Crowley into letting you stay at Pomefiore so he can care for you

Vil believes you're capable, after all. you just need a little push

"I've set a daily reminder and stocked your kitchen. Remember that some food is better than none. If you need me for anything, I'll see to it as soon as possible,"

you can expect Epel and Rook to ask if you've eaten, on his behalf, every time you run into each other

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Idia sets like, 30 reminders in your phone

he knows as well as you do that three measly alarms won't be enough

...he, too, is guilty of forgetting to eat

he probably makes you a custom alarm sound and everything

a little pavlovian conditioning never hurt anyone, right? it's basically no different than training an AI

...or something like that

will send Ortho over to check your vitals every once in a while

"it's NBD. can't have u losing all your lives on me. who would tolerate me then?"

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

thank your lucky stars it's Malleus who notices your drowsiness first and not Lilia

Malleus, at least, will find you something edible to eat

he's trying to keep you alive, after all

he's very sweet and gentle about it

soft little reminders, nudges to keep you awake... he will up and leave a dorm meeting if he realizes he doesn't know if you'd had anything yet today

Malleus is very conscious about human mortality, and is very... delicate about it

he's just a little overprotective, that's all

it mostly comes to sharing little treats together every now and then. it feels less awkward when you're together, after all

"There is no need to thank me. I'm simply happy to spend my time with you,"

[goldfades]

HAUNTED BY YOU──FATHER MAYHEW (part 2)

part one!!!!

─ summary | father charlie grapples with his intense attraction during the church event. they shared a passionate kiss that reignites their forbidden connection, despite the undeniable chemistry, charlie wrestles with guilt and the reality of their situation, ultimately pulling away as the risk of being caught looms over them. the tension between desire and moral obligation leaves them both longing for more, even if they face the consequences of their actions

─ pairing | father charlie mayhew x fem!reader

─ warnings | nsfw under the cut! mdni! oral (f!receiving), p in v, pretty rough but not as nasty as part one, praise (?), pretty soft/vanilla in comparison to part 1

─ ev's notes | my requests are open if you wanna send anything in! (please do btw i'm obsessed w nicholas LMAO). also i feel like there should be a part 3 but i'm not sure where it would go sooo

ok love u bye!!! pls send me requests!!!!!!

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my masterlist!

After your encounter with Father Charlie, your world had turned completely upside down.

You no longer wanted to attend seminary, not like you wanted to begin with. It had always been someone else’s dream for you, a path laid out by your parents, by the expectations of the community, by the life you thought you were supposed to live. But now, every time you stepped into the church, all you could think about was him. The way his hands had felt on your skin, the way he had murmured your name with a mixture of reverence and desire. It was as if the weight of everything you had ever known had shifted beneath your feet, leaving you standing on uncertain ground.

It wasn’t just the guilt, though that was there, gnawing at the edges of your thoughts. It was the confusion—the way you felt torn between the life you had always been told you should want and the inexplicable pull that had drawn you to him that night. You hadn’t planned for it to happen, hadn’t even fully understood what was happening as it unfolded, but now there was no denying it: something had changed inside of you.

You would be lying if you said that you weren't teasing the poor man, but you never expected it to go that far. His mean words, his rough touch... it was unexpected but welcome.

However, you avoided Charlie in the days that followed. But that didn’t stop the memories from replaying in your mind, unbidden and relentless. The rough sound of his voice, the way his breath had hitched when he looked at you, the feel of his lips against your skin—it haunted you, drawing you back to that night over and over again.

And yet, for all the confusion and turmoil, there was something else, too. A part of you that felt more alive than you ever had before. You couldn’t ignore the thrill of it, the way your heart raced when you thought about him, the way your body responded to even the thought of being near him again.

But what did that mean for your future? Could you go on pretending to follow a path that no longer felt like your own? Could you return to the person you had been before all of this?

You didn’t know.

All you knew was that something had been set in motion, something that couldn’t be undone. And as much as you tried to push it aside, to tell yourself it was just a fleeting moment of weakness, the truth lingered, heavy and undeniable: your encounter with Father Charlie had changed everything.

──

"I've just been worried about her." Your mother sniffled as she glanced up at Father Charlie. Her eyes were watery as your father nodded along, his eyebrows furrowed in worry.

Charlie did his best not to roll his eyes─he assured them that their daughter missing a few days of Church was nothing to worry about, she was simply exploring and that she'd come back if her heart was in the right place.

He wasn't sure if that was true though, he knew the true reason for your sudden absence—it wasn't that you were losing your faith. It was that you were avoiding him. And in a way, he couldn't blame you. After what had happened between the two of you, things could never be the same.

Charlie shifted uncomfortably in his chair, feeling the weight of your parents' anxious gazes on him. He offered them a reassuring smile, the same gentle, composed expression he had worn so many times before. But beneath the surface, a storm raged inside him.

"I appreciate your concern," he said softly, clasping his hands together. "But give her time. Sometimes a little distance can be healthy. She’ll find her way back, if it’s meant to be."

Your mother dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, her worry evident. "But Father, she's never missed church like this before. She's always been so devoted. I just… I don’t understand what’s changed."

Charlie swallowed, the words catching in his throat as he forced himself to maintain his calm demeanor. He could feel guilt clawing at the edges of his composure, the weight of the secret the two of you now shared hanging over him like a heavy cloud. He had tried to rationalize it, tried to convince himself that it was a moment of weakness, a lapse in judgment that would pass. But the truth was, every time he closed his eyes, he saw you.

"I understand your concern," Charlie continued, his voice softer now, more reflective. "But maybe she just needs some space to reflect on things. Sometimes, when we're too close to something, we can't see it clearly."

Your father sighed, rubbing his temples. "She's been so distant lately. I just don’t know what’s going on in her head anymore."

Charlie nodded sympathetically, though inside, he felt the sting of his own hypocrisy. He had been the one to create that distance. He had crossed a line he never should have, and now both of you were suffering the consequences. The temptation had been too great, the connection too deep to ignore, and now he was left trying to navigate the fallout, unsure of how to reconcile his role as a spiritual leader with the undeniable pull he felt toward you.

"Just give her some time," Charlie said again, though he wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince—your parents, or himself. "She’s strong. She’ll come around."

Your mother smiled weakly, though her worry remained evident. "I hope so, Father. I really do."

As they stood to leave, Charlie felt a familiar sense of dread settle in his chest. He bid them goodbye, offering them one last reassurance before they stepped out of the church. But as the door closed behind them, the air in the sanctuary seemed to grow heavier.

Charlie exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair as the silence pressed in around him. He had tried to distance himself from you, convinced himself that what had happened was a mistake. But no matter how hard he tried to push it away, the memory of you lingered, seeping into every corner of his mind.

And now, standing alone in the empty church, he found himself wondering if there was any way to make things right again—if there was any way to undo the damage that had been done.

But deep down, he knew the answer.

There was no going back. Not for either of you.

Later that night, Charlie found himself thinking about you once again. Particularly, how you looked that night. On your knees, so eager to please and your doe eyes gazing up at him. He couldn't get that sight out of his mind, no matter how hard he prayed. He clasped his hands together, leaning over the edge of his bed, his head bowed as if in prayer.

But the words weren’t coming—no matter how hard he tried to focus, the familiar rhythm of his nightly prayers refused to take shape. His mind was somewhere else, tangled up in thoughts that shouldn’t be there, lingering on images that made him feel as though he were coming apart at the seams.

He cursed under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut tighter as if that would somehow banish the memory. But the more he fought it, the more vivid it became—your wide, innocent eyes gazing up at him, filled with a mix of longing and devotion that made his chest tighten. The feel of your skin, soft and warm beneath his fingertips, the sound of your voice, so eager to please… it haunted him. The way you had knelt before him, lips parted in anticipation, had driven him to the edge of his restraint.

He should have stopped it. He should have turned away, sent you home, reminded you of your faith, of his vows. But he hadn’t. Instead, he had given in, swept up in the heat of the moment, in the way your body responded to his touch, in the softness of your breath against his skin. And now, no matter how much he tried to pray, no matter how often he begged for forgiveness, the memory of that night refused to leave him.

Charlie’s breath came shallow as he stood, pacing the small room in frustration. His fists clenched at his sides, the fabric of his robes suddenly feeling too tight, too constricting. He could feel the familiar ache building in his chest, spreading lower, and no matter how much he tried to deny it, the pull was too strong to resist.

He glanced toward the small crucifix hanging on the wall, a wave of guilt washing over him. He was a man of God—he wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He wasn’t supposed to let his thoughts linger on sinful desires, especially not desires for you.

But the truth was, no matter how much he tried to tell himself otherwise, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Your name echoed in his mind, and the memory of your touch seemed to burn hotter with every passing moment.

But when he closed his eyes again, all he could see was you—on your knees, so willing, so eager. The memory of your lips sent a shiver down his spine, and the guilt that followed only fueled the fire inside him.

And he knew, in that moment—the worst part wasn't the fact that he did those sinful actions—it was that he wasn't sorry, not one bit. Not even a sliver of remorse.

A chill ran through him at the thought, his stomach twisting with a blend of shame and something else, something that made him feel even more unsettled. It wasn’t regret that filled him when he remembered that night—it was a strange, unwelcome satisfaction. A hunger that hadn’t been sated, not entirely.

He had broken his vows, crossed a line he swore he never would. But now, in the stillness of the night, with only his thoughts to keep him company, he couldn’t help but acknowledge the truth. He wasn’t sorry. Not for the way you had looked at him, not for the way his body had responded to yours, and certainly not for the way his hands had roamed over your skin, desperate to claim you as his.

The worst part, the part that filled him with guilt and dread, was that he would do it again. Given the chance, he would fall just as easily. There was no penitence in his heart, only desire. And that terrified him more than anything else.

He had spent years dedicating himself to his faith, to his congregation, to being a beacon of moral strength and guidance. But now, the very foundation of everything he believed in was crumbling beneath him. How could he stand in front of his parish, look your parents in the eye, and preach about virtue when he knew what lay inside his own heart? How could he ask for forgiveness when, deep down, he wasn’t ready to give up the sinful thoughts that had taken root in his mind?

Charlie stood abruptly, crossing the room to the small mirror hanging on the wall. He stared at his reflection, searching his own eyes for the man he once was. But all he saw was the shadow of someone who had allowed himself to be consumed by temptation. He touched the collar around his neck, feeling its weight like a noose tightening with each passing second.

The worst part wasn’t the act itself—it was the knowledge that he would do it again. He would welcome it, crave it. You had awoken something in him, something dark and uncontrollable, and no amount of prayer or penance could change that now.

A soft knock at the door startled him from his thoughts. For a moment, his heart leapt into his throat, fearing that it might be you. That somehow, you had sensed his weakness, his need, and had come to him again. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself as he crossed the room and opened the door.

It wasn’t you. It was another member of the congregation, a kindly older woman who often helped with the church's charitable efforts. She smiled at him warmly, oblivious to the turmoil raging inside him.

"Father Charlie," she said, her voice gentle. "I wanted to thank you for your sermon earlier. It was so uplifting. We’re blessed to have you."

Charlie forced a smile, nodding as he thanked her for her kind words. But as she turned to leave, he felt a hollowness settle in his chest.

He didn’t feel like a blessing. He felt like a man on the edge of a precipice, teetering dangerously close to a fall he might never recover from.

And the worst part? He wasn’t sure if he wanted to be saved.

──

Father Charlie stood at the pulpit, his voice steady as he delivered the sermon to the congregation. The stained glass windows bathed the church in a soft, multicolored light, the hum of his words blending with the occasional creak of wooden pews. His hands gripped the edges of the podium, knuckles pale, though his calm expression gave nothing away.

"And though we may walk through the valley of shadows," he said, his voice resonating through the high ceilings, "we must remember that God’s light will guide us, if only we choose to follow it."

His eyes swept over the familiar faces before him—devout, attentive, hanging on his every word. For a brief moment, he felt the usual sense of peace that came with leading his flock, of being their shepherd through life’s trials. But then, in the midst of that calm, the heavy oak doors at the back of the church creaked open.

You stepped inside, late.

Charlie’s heart faltered.

You moved quietly down the aisle, slipping into a pew near the back, trying to draw as little attention as possible. But he noticed you. Of course he noticed you. His breath hitched in his chest, and for a moment, the words on his tongue stumbled.

You didn’t look at him right away, your eyes scanning the prayer book in front of you as you settled in, but he could feel the electricity of your presence, like a whisper of something forbidden trailing through the air. His mouth went dry as he remembered, vividly and all too easily, the feel of your skin under his hands, the heat between you, the way your lips had parted in that fleeting moment of sinful indulgence.

His mind, usually sharp and disciplined during sermons, began to unravel, his thoughts wandering to places they never should have. His gaze lingered on you as you sat there, your expression neutral, but there was something in the way you held yourself that made it impossible for him to tear his eyes away. He noticed the way your hair caught the light, the soft curve of your neck as you bowed your head slightly. His pulse quickened against his will.

Charlie cleared his throat, trying to refocus on the words he had prepared, but they felt distant now, hollow in his mouth. He was no longer preaching to his congregation; he was struggling to hold onto his composure, his resolve crumbling with each passing second.

"Temptation," he began again, though his voice was softer now, as if the word itself held a deeper, more personal meaning. "It is something we all must face. It whispers to us when we are weak, it pulls at us when we are vulnerable. But we must find the strength to turn away, to resist the allure of sin."

His eyes found you again, and this time, you looked up. Your gaze met his, and in that single glance, he felt everything crash into him at once. The air between you seemed to thicken, heavy with the weight of what had passed between you. His breath caught in his throat, and he forced himself to tear his gaze away before anyone could notice the tension that hummed just beneath the surface.

But you didn’t stop looking at him. He could feel your eyes on him, a silent challenge, a reminder of the line that had already been crossed. He fought to keep his voice steady, but the sermon felt like it was slipping away from him, the careful words he had crafted now little more than a veil over the chaos inside his mind.

"We must… stand firm in our faith," he continued, though the conviction had drained from his voice. "For in times of darkness, it is only through faith that we find salvation."

Salvation. The word felt bitter on his tongue. Could he even claim to believe it anymore, after everything that had happened? After what he had allowed to happen?

The sermon dragged on, each word a labor, each moment a battle to maintain control. And all the while, you sat there, your presence like a burning flame in the cold of the church, drawing him in, tempting him with a kind of heat he knew he could never touch again.

When he finally reached the end of his sermon, the relief was almost palpable. He offered the closing prayer, his voice quiet, barely able to focus on the familiar verses. As the congregation murmured their amens and began to file out of the pews, Charlie stayed rooted at the pulpit, his eyes lingering on the spot where you sat.

But you didn’t leave with the others. You stayed behind, waiting until the church was nearly empty, until the last whispers of conversation faded away into the stillness. And then, slowly, you stood and made your way toward him, your footsteps soft against the stone floor.

Charlie’s heart pounded in his chest, the air between you charged with unspoken tension as you approached. The church was quiet now, the last of the congregation having departed, leaving only the echo of their footsteps behind. The light filtering through the stained glass seemed softer, casting shadows that flickered across the empty pews. But there was nothing soft about the way his pulse thundered in his ears, about the tightening in his chest as you closed the distance between you.

He should have walked away. He should have left immediately, before anything more could be said, before the unspoken words between you could turn into something neither of you could take back. But instead, he stood there, frozen in place, rooted to the spot by the weight of your gaze.

“Father Charlie,” you said softly, your voice low and sweet, like a secret meant only for him. The sound of your voice sent a shiver through him, and he fought to keep his expression neutral, though he could feel the cracks in his composure growing deeper with every passing second.

“Yes?” His voice came out rougher than he intended, strained.

You took a step closer, and the scent of your perfume reached him—something soft, floral, intoxicating. “Your sermon…” you began, but the words trailed off as your eyes met his again, and in that moment, he could see the truth in them. The same hunger that gnawed at him was reflected in your gaze, the same forbidden desire simmering just beneath the surface.

He swallowed hard, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. He couldn’t allow this to happen. Not again. Not here, in the house of God, where his entire purpose was to be a guide for the people, to resist temptation, to be the moral compass for those who sought him out. But standing this close to you, feeling the warmth of your body, seeing the way your lips parted slightly as you looked at him—it was as though the air itself was charged with electricity, pulling him in.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” you continued, your voice softer now, almost a whisper. “About temptation… about resisting it.”

His throat tightened. He knew where this was going, knew he needed to stop it before it went any further. “You should,” he managed to say, though his voice was strained. “We all must resist.”

Your eyes flickered with something—amusement, perhaps, or maybe defiance. “Is that what you’re doing right now, Father?” you asked, stepping even closer, so close that he could feel the warmth radiating from your skin.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper now. “Not like this.”

“And yet,” you replied, your voice teasing, “here I am.”

He clenched his jaw, every muscle in his body taut with restraint. He couldn’t do this again. He couldn’t give in to the desire that gnawed at him, no matter how strong the pull. But as you reached out, your fingers brushing lightly against his arm, the warmth of your touch sent a jolt through him that made it nearly impossible to think clearly.

“Tell me you don’t want this,” you whispered, your voice low and sultry. “Tell me you haven’t been thinking about it, too.”

He closed his eyes, struggling to find his breath. Of course, he had been thinking about it. He hadn’t been able to think of anything else since that night, no matter how much he tried to push it away. But acknowledging that would only make it worse, would only open the door to something darker, something he wasn’t sure he could come back from.

“I can’t…” he started, but the words stuck in his throat.

You stepped even closer, your body now just inches from his, and he could feel the heat radiating from you, could smell the faint sweetness of your perfume. “You don’t have to resist,” you whispered, your lips so close to his ear now that he could feel the warmth of your breath against his skin.

Charlie’s hands trembled at his sides, his heart pounding in his chest. He was standing on the edge of a precipice, knowing that one more step would send him over, would plunge him into something he couldn’t take back. He opened his eyes, his gaze locking with yours, and in that moment, he knew.

The worst part wasn’t the temptation. The worst part was that he didn’t want to resist anymore.

"Sweetheart?"

You both immediately jumped, putting some space between you two. You looked back to see your mother standing, looking between you two with suspicion. Charlie’s heart nearly stopped in his chest as your mother’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. His breath hitched, and he took a hurried step back from you, creating what little distance he could in the small space between you both. The panic coursing through his veins was almost palpable, his mind scrambling for an excuse, an explanation—anything to justify the intimate moment your mother had just interrupted.

You spun around, your cheeks flushed, eyes wide as you faced her. “Mom…” you started, your voice shaky, barely able to form the words.

Your mother stood just a few feet away, her eyes narrowing as they flicked between you and Father Charlie. Suspicion danced across her face, her arms crossing over her chest in a way that made it clear she didn’t believe for a second that what she had just walked in on was innocent.

“What’s going on here?” she asked, her voice tight with concern, but laced with an edge of disbelief. “Why are you here alone with Father Charlie?”

Charlie swallowed hard, doing his best to regain some semblance of composure. He stepped forward, trying to project the calm and collected demeanor he was known for.

His hands fidgeted behind his back, where no one could see the way they trembled. “Mrs. L/N,” he said, forcing a small smile, “I was just… offering some spiritual guidance. Your daughter has been struggling with her faith lately, and I wanted to make sure she was alright.”

Your mother raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. She glanced at you again, her suspicion deepening. “Spiritual guidance?” she repeated slowly, her tone skeptical. “That’s all?”

You nodded quickly, your face burning with embarrassment, desperate to put her at ease. “Yes, Mom. That’s all. I’ve just… I’ve had a lot on my mind, and Father Charlie was helping me work through some things.”

Your mother didn’t look satisfied, but she didn’t push any further either. Instead, she sighed, her eyes softening just a little as she looked at you. “Sweetheart, I’ve been worried about you. You’ve been distant lately, and I just want to make sure you’re okay. I’m your mother—I know when something’s not right.”

Charlie took a deep breath, seizing the opportunity to steer the conversation away from the dangerous ground it had been treading. “You have every right to be concerned,” he said gently. “But I assure you, your daughter is fine. She’s just been searching for some clarity, and sometimes, that means taking a step back to reflect. It’s a normal part of spiritual growth.”

Your mother seemed to hesitate for a moment, her eyes lingering on him as if weighing his words. Finally, she nodded, though the unease still lingered in her expression. “Alright,” she said quietly. “But… next time, sweetheart, maybe talk to me too. I’m always here for you.”

You smiled weakly, giving a small nod. “I will, Mom.”

Your mother’s gaze softened further, and she gave you a gentle smile before turning back toward the door. “Me and dad are waiting outside,” she said over her shoulder. “Don’t take too long.”

As soon as she was gone, the tension in the air shifted, leaving behind an uncomfortable silence. Charlie let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his shoulders sagging with the weight of what had almost just happened.

“That was too close,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you turned back to him.

Charlie nodded, running a hand through his hair, his thoughts still racing. “We can’t keep doing this,” he said quietly, though even as he said it, part of him knew it was a lie.

You stood there, staring at him, your breath unsteady as the reality of what had just happened sunk in. Your mother had almost caught you, and the danger of the situation wasn’t lost on either of you. And yet, there was still that undeniable pull, the heat between you two simmering just beneath the surface, refusing to die down despite the risk.

Charlie’s words hung in the air, a weak protest against what both of you knew was inevitable. He had said it before—he couldn’t keep doing this—but neither of you had stopped, even after that night. Even after everything that had followed.

You took a small step closer to him, your heart pounding as you fought against the voice in your head that told you to walk away. “You don’t mean that,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

He closed his eyes, his jaw tight, clearly trying to hold on to whatever shred of self-control he had left. “I should mean it,” he muttered, his voice strained, but he didn’t move away from you. If anything, he seemed to lean in closer, despite his own protest. “This is wrong. We both know that.”

You reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm, feeling the tension in his muscles as he wrestled with himself. “Maybe it is,” you admitted, your eyes meeting his again, “but that doesn’t mean I regret it. Do you?”

Charlie looked at you, the conflict plain in his eyes, but the more he stared, the more that tension seemed to fade. “I don’t regret it,” he finally admitted, his voice low and hoarse. “But I should.”

You shook your head slowly, stepping even closer to him, the space between you almost non-existent now. “Then why don’t you?”

Charlie’s breath hitched, his gaze flickering over your face as if searching for an answer. The heat between you two was almost unbearable now, every inch of space crackling with tension, and you could see the exact moment his resolve began to crack.

He exhaled sharply, his voice nothing more than a hoarse whisper. “Because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, a rush of warmth spreading through you. You moved closer, your hand sliding down his arm, feeling the way his skin shivered beneath your touch. “Then don’t stop,” you whispered back, your lips dangerously close to his now.

For a moment, the world outside seemed to disappear. It was just the two of you, standing there in the quiet, the tension and the desire between you growing stronger with every passing second. Charlie’s breath quickened, his eyes dark with longing as he stared at you.

But then, just as quickly, his expression shifted, a look of torment crossing his features. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this,” he whispered, his voice trembling with both desire and guilt. “You deserve better than this.”

You swallowed hard, your heart clenching at his words. But you shook your head, refusing to let him pull away now. “What I deserve,” you said softly, “is you. And I don’t care what anyone else thinks.”

Charlie’s eyes flashed with something—a mix of longing and torment—and for a moment, he looked like he might resist again. But then, something inside him snapped. He reached out, his hands grabbing your waist, pulling you closer in one swift motion.

Your breath caught in your throat as his lips crashed into yours, and for a second, all of that guilt, that tension, melted away in the heat of the kiss. His hands gripped your waist tightly, holding you against him as if afraid you might slip away. And in that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the church, not your parents waiting outside, not the fact that what you were doing was forbidden.

All that mattered was the way his lips felt against yours, the way his touch set your skin on fire, the way everything else seemed to fade into the background when you were with him.

The kiss deepened, an electric jolt shooting through you as Father Charlie held you close. His lips moved against yours with an urgency that made your heart race faster than you thought possible. You felt the heat of his body against yours, his grip possessive yet gentle, like he was trying to hold on but afraid he might break you. It was a contradiction, just like him—full of restraint, but also full of passion.

You let out a soft gasp as his hand slid up your side, brushing against your ribs, and the sensation made your knees weak. You had to remind yourself that this was real, that this was actually happening again, despite all the reasons it shouldn’t. Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to stop it any more than he could.

Charlie broke the kiss first, his breath ragged, his forehead pressed against yours. His eyes were squeezed shut as if he were fighting an internal battle—one that he was quickly losing. “This can’t happen again,” he whispered, though the way his hands still held you told a different story. His resolve was crumbling, just like it always did around you.

You nodded, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath, but you couldn’t bring yourself to agree out loud. The tension between you two was still thick, and the temptation was too strong, too intoxicating to resist.

You could feel his heart pounding against your chest, mirroring your own, and it was enough to make you lean in again, brushing your lips against his one more time.

“Then stop,” you whispered against his lips, daring him, challenging him to push you away.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he kissed you again, harder this time, as if the very act of pulling you closer was the only thing grounding him. His hands gripped your waist tighter, fingers digging into your hips, and you could feel the desperation in his touch. There was no hesitation now, no pretending that this wasn’t what he wanted.

You melted into him, your hands sliding up his chest, feeling the taut muscles beneath his clerical shirt, the smooth fabric bunched under your fingers. It was almost surreal, the way everything else disappeared around you, the church silent except for the sound of your breathing and the faint echo of your heartbeats.

But then, reality began creeping back in, like a shadow over the two of you.

The weight of what you were doing came crashing down again, as it always did, leaving you both tangled in a mess of desire and guilt. Charlie broke away once more, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling with the effort to steady himself. His eyes were wild with conflict as he looked at you, his voice hoarse. “We can’t… Not here. Not like this.”

You could feel the hesitation returning, his conscience pulling at him once again. But before he could say anything more, you pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him.

“I know,” you whispered, nodding. “But don’t regret this, Charlie. Please.”

His gaze softened for a moment, and for just a second, it seemed like the weight of his guilt was lifting, replaced by something softer, something more real. He gently took your hand in his, pulling it away from his lips, and brought it to his chest, holding it there as if to let you feel the way his heart raced beneath your fingertips.

“I don’t,” he said quietly, his voice firm despite the uncertainty lingering in his eyes.

But before either of you could speak again, the sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway outside the small room. You both tensed immediately, pulling apart in a rush as if the entire world had just come crashing back down on you.

Your mother’s voice rang out, calling your name from somewhere outside, and the reality of your situation hit like a cold shock to your system. You glanced at Charlie, your pulse still racing, your thoughts a jumbled mess.

You sighed, stepping back, your heart still pounding as you adjusted your clothes, trying to make yourself presentable before stepping out of the room.

As you left the small space where everything had happened, Charlie watched you go, his chest tightening with the weight of his own choices. He knew there would be consequences to all of this—there always were. But as he watched you disappear into the hallway, a small part of him couldn’t help but want more.

And that terrified him most of all.

──

Father Charlie’s lips crashed against yours with a fervor that left you breathless, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you into the small, dimly lit room at the side of the church. The door clicked shut behind you, the quiet sound echoing through the silence as though sealing you both away from the world outside.

Your back hit the wall gently, the cool stone pressing against you, but all you could focus on was the heat radiating from him—the way his body seemed to burn with a need that matched your own. His kiss was desperate, almost frantic, as though he had been holding back for too long and could no longer control the desire that had been eating away at him.

“God, I’ve tried,” he muttered against your lips, his breath hot and ragged as he pressed his forehead against yours for just a moment, as though trying to regain some semblance of control.

But even as he said it, his hands roamed over your body, fingers trembling slightly as they traced the curve of your hips. “I’ve tried to stay away… but I can’t.”

His confession sent a shiver through you, both of guilt and desire. You knew this was wrong���both of you did—but the pull between you was too strong to resist. There was something magnetic in the way you fit together, something undeniable in the way his touch made your pulse race.

You gasped softly as his hands slid higher, brushing just beneath the hem of your shirt, the warmth of his touch sending jolts of electricity through your skin.

“Charlie…” you breathed, barely able to find the words as your heart pounded in your chest. His name left your lips like a prayer, one filled with both need and hesitation.

His response was a low growl of frustration, his hands tightening on your waist as if trying to ground himself, but his lips returned to yours with renewed urgency. The kiss deepened, becoming hungrier, more reckless, as though the two of you had crossed a threshold you could no longer retreat from. His fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt, pulling you even closer to him, your bodies pressed together in a way that left no room for anything but the heat of your desire.

“We can’t…” he whispered again, though the words seemed hollow now, an afterthought that barely registered in the heat of the moment. His lips found the sensitive skin of your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against it, and you couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped your lips. “But I don’t want to stop.”

His words mirrored the conflict that raged inside of you—this was a line that should never have been crossed, but now that you were here, it felt impossible to turn back. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, your body arching into his as his hands explored your skin. The soft rasp of his breath against your neck, the heat of his body pressed so close to yours—it was overwhelming, intoxicating, and it left you dizzy with need.

For a brief moment, he pulled back, his chest heaving as he stared at you with dark, conflicted eyes. “We’re going to hell for this,” he muttered, his voice hoarse with desire, but there was no regret in his tone—only raw, unrestrained longing.

You shook your head, your fingers still gripping his shirt as you looked up at him, breathless. “Then take me with you.”

That was all it took for him to lose whatever remained of his restraint. With a groan, he captured your lips again, his hands moving faster now, more urgently, as though afraid that if he stopped for even a moment, the weight of what you were doing might crush him. You didn’t care anymore, not about the consequences, not about what anyone might say. In that moment, there was only him, only the way he made you feel—alive, reckless, consumed.

His hands slipped beneath your shirt, fingers splaying across the bare skin of your waist as though claiming you entirely. The cold stone wall at your back contrasted sharply with the heat of his body pressed against yours, grounding you even as everything around you spun out of control.

There was no space between you now, your bodies moving together in perfect rhythm, each touch, each kiss driving you further into the dark, forbidden territory you both had sworn to avoid. But neither of you had the strength to resist anymore. His breath was ragged against your neck, your own heart pounding in time with his as the intensity of the moment wrapped around you like a vice.

"Gonna make you cum so many times," he mumbled into your neck as he pushed you harder on the wall.

You let out a small giggle at his words, your head falling back against the wall with a small thud. "Is that a promise?"

Charlie hummed against your neck. "Mhm, you won't be able to walk outta here."

You tangled your fingers into his hair as he spoke, pulling him closer, urging him on. You needed this as much as he did. Needed to feel alive, to feel something that burned beyond the lines of right and wrong. It wasn't just lust—it was a dangerous craving for connection, something that both frightened and exhilarated you.

"Please," you pleaded, breath hitching as his hands roamed higher. His fingers trembled slightly, betraying the struggle within him, but his resolve broke the moment you gave him permission.

With a low groan, his hands slid beneath your shirt completely, the sensation of his touch sending fire through your veins. Every nerve in your body was alight, the tension between you mounting to an unbearable high as his lips claimed every inch of skin they could reach. His breath was hot against your neck, the pressure of his body overwhelming, yet intoxicating.

Charlie’s mouth found your ear, his breath warm and labored. “I don’t know how to be anything else around you... it’s like you’re inside my head.”

You gasped as he pressed himself harder against you, your lips brushing the curve of his jawline in response. His words cut through you, filled with the same struggle and longing that burned in your chest. It was reckless, dangerous even, but it was real.

Without warning, his arms around your middle and picked you up. You let out a surprised sound as you wrapped his hips, before he dropped you right on the desk. The sensation of being completely in his control, suspended in the air for a fleeting moment, sent a thrill through you.

Before you could even process what was happening, he dropped you onto the desk behind you. The cool wood pressed against the back of your thighs as your hands flew to grip the edge, steadying yourself. The roughness of the gesture, the way his eyes burned into yours, left you breathless.

There was no hesitation in his movements anymore, no room for doubt or second thoughts. The desk creaked slightly beneath the weight of the moment, but neither of you cared.

Charlie stepped between your legs, his hands immediately finding your waist, fingers pressing into your skin like he was anchoring himself to you. His gaze roamed over your face, dark and full of hunger, before his lips crashed back onto yours with renewed intensity. His kiss was deeper now, more demanding, as though he was trying to erase every single barrier between you.

"Charlie," you moaned as you blinked up at him, your whole body feeling like it was on fire.

Your fingers tangled in his shirt, pulling him closer, needing more of him, craving the feeling of his body against yours. His hands slid up your sides, trailing heat in their wake as they pushed your shirt higher, exposing more skin to the cool air. You shivered, but it had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the way his touch set your nerves on fire.

“God, I’ve wanted this,” he growled against your lips, his voice low and filled with raw need. He leaned forward, his body pressing yours back against the desk, the weight of him intoxicating. You could feel the intensity of his desire, the way he held nothing back now, his control slipping with every passing second.

Your hands found their way to his chest, fingers exploring the firmness of his body beneath the fabric of his clothes. Every muscle tensed beneath your touch, responding to you in ways that made your pulse race even faster. You pushed his shirt up, wanting to feel the heat of his skin against yours, to close the distance between you even more.

His lips left yours for a moment, trailing down your neck, his breath hot and heavy against your skin. You tilted your head back, giving him more access, feeling the way his teeth grazed your collarbone, his hands gripping your hips with almost bruising force.

You could feel him hard against you, his desire unmistakable. The tension between you, the build-up of everything unsaid, was too much to bear anymore. You arched against him, needing more, wanting to lose yourself in the overwhelming heat between you both.

He then spread your legs further before practically ripping your skirt off, throwing it somewhere else in the room. He leaned down to press a sloppy kiss on your stomach before he slowly descended down where you needed him most.

Charlie placed two fingers on top of your clothed wet pussy, letting out a broken groan. "So ready for me, huh?"

All you could do was moan in response as your head fell back, your eyes screwing shut. The feeling of his fingers so close to where you ached, made you wanna scream in desperation. You just wanted him to fill you up and fuck you senseless.

“Charlie…” you breathed, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you felt in that moment. His name on your lips only seemed to spur him on, his fingers pushing deeper into your needy cunt.

Finally, he moved your panties to the side before slowly dipping a finger inside your sloppy pussy. Your back arched to his touch, letting out a pornographic moan.

Charlie shivered at the beautiful sound, his pants becoming impossibly tight. He felt his cock get harder every second, he wasn't sure how long he could wait—but he needed to taste you.

Keeping his finger inside your wet pussy, he leaned down and pressed his lips against it. With the added sensation, you were sure you were gonna pass out. Charlie slipped out his tongue, tasting your sweet juices as he hummed.

"Taste so fucking sweet, baby." He moaned as he opened his mouth to taste more of you. The taste was heavenly, he shut his eyes and began devouring you, his finger slipping in and out.

You were practically sobbing with pleasure at that point, your hand on his head as he ate you out like a starved man. Your pussy clenched around his finger, but you needed more. You needed his cock, desperately. He began rubbing himself against the wooden desk, desperate for any friction as he continued his assault on your puffy cunt.

You felt that familiar tightening in your lower stomach begin to form and you knew that it wouldn't take a lot more to make you cum. You began breathing heavily, your head falling back as you nodded desperately.

"Please, please make me cum," you babbled as you fisted his hair. "Oh, fuck!"

One last push of his finger and you were cumming around him, and Charlie wasted no time—he kept licking your juices until he felt he was completely satisfied. You were breathless from your high, but Charlie was far from done.

As you regained some sense of consciousness, you heard his belt buckle hit the wooden floor with a familiar thump. Then, Charlie’s lips crashed back onto yours with renewed urgency, fueled by your whispered permission. You could taste yourself on his tongue, humming at the salty taste.

His hands roamed over your body, no longer holding back, exploring every inch of exposed skin. You could feel the heat between you intensifying, the air growing thick with anticipation.

His free hand gripped your waist, pulling your body flush against his, and you could feel just how much he wanted you. The desk beneath you creaked again, but the noise was drowned out by the sound of your ragged breathing, the thud of your heartbeat in your ears, and the steady rhythm of his movements against you.

Charlie’s mouth continued to explore your neck, leaving kisses that sent shivers down your spine. He pulled back for a moment, his eyes locking with yours, dark and full of something primal. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he muttered, his voice husky, sending a thrill through you.

Your lips parted, words forming on the tip of your tongue, but they were lost as he lifted you slightly, shifting you further onto the desk. The sudden movement made you cling to him, your legs tightening around his waist, the closeness between you now unbearable in the best way.

Charlie then reached for his cock, you glanced down to see his redden tip leaking with pre-cum. He led his tip to your entrance, and he slowly began pushing himself into your warmth. Charlie let out a sigh of relief as his head fell back; he had missed the feeling of your tight cunt.

You were still sensitive from the previous orgasm, you were shaking at the burning and overwhelming sensation. "Please, Charlie," you didn't know what you were pleading for at this point.

Charlie let you adjust to his size before he began drilling in and out of you, the wooden desk creaking underneath you. You felt so full, you swore you felt him all the way up to your throat. Your hands found his broad shoulders, holding on as his thrusts began more erratic and desperate.

"This fuckin' pussy was made for me," he gasped as he began fucking you into the desk, the power of his thrusts making you cry out. "God made this pussy all for me, like a little present."

All his ramblings were going in one ear and out the other, you were absolutely drunk on his cock. You just moaned in response, unsure of what he was even saying at this point—Charlie wasn't sure either.

Charlie was snapping his hips against yours, he wasn't even thinking straight; he felt like a fucking dog in heat. All he could think of was cumming inside of your tight pussy again and again, until either of you could take it anymore.

"Oh, fuck!" you cried out as you felt yourself drawing closer and closer to your orgasm. Your pussy tightened around him, your eyes rolling back in pure and unadulterated pleasure.

You came again, your whole body shaking as you felt your legs give out. You were practically limp as Charlie kept slamming into you, chasing his own high.

After a few more rough snaps of his hips, Charlie was spilling his seed into you. He rode out his high as he sighed heavily, his forehead falling against yours. You were both breathless, but nonetheless satisfied. His breath was warm against your skin as he rested his forehead against yours, the remnants of shared intensity still lingering in the air.

Both of you were quiet for a few moments, still trying to catch your breath, hearts beating in sync. The room, once filled with hurried movements and ragged breaths, had now fallen into a peaceful stillness.

Charlie’s hand slowly trailed down your back, a soft, gentle touch replacing the urgency from earlier. His fingers danced over your skin, and despite the exhaustion that hung between you, there was a tenderness in the way he touched you now, as if he was savoring every second of this quiet moment.

His eyes, still dark with satisfaction, locked with yours, and a small, almost shy smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "You’re incredible," he murmured softly, his voice hoarse from everything that had passed between you.

You smiled back, your fingers brushing through his hair, still trying to make sense of the rush of emotions coursing through you. "Finally made me cum," you teased lightly, though your voice was soft and tired.

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest as he pulled you closer, the warmth of his body a welcome comfort against yours. For a moment, neither of you said anything, just reveling in the intimacy of the aftermath, the unspoken connection that had deepened between you.

After a while, Charlie sighed again, this time more contented. He pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips soft and reassuring. “We should probably…get out of here before someone finds us,” he whispered, though there was no rush in his voice.

You laughed softly, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. You were still perched on the edge of the desk, clothes haphazardly discarded, with no sign of the wild passion that had just transpired except for the disheveled state of the room and the lingering heat between you.

But for a moment longer, neither of you moved. There was something comforting in the stillness, the quiet intimacy that followed the storm. Eventually, though, Charlie slipped out of you, shifting slightly and helped you down from the desk with a gentle hand on your waist. You both began to gather your clothes, the silence between you now comfortable.

With one last lingering kiss, you both finally slipped out of the room, the world outside waiting. But something had shifted between you—something that felt like the beginning of something more.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[trashytracktales]

Heyy girliee, first of all I want to say that your writing is absolutely amazing. I’ve been reading your Lando fics for the past couple of days and “endings, beginnings” had me feeling butterflies in my stomach 🫢 I wanted to ask you if you could write something about lando and reader being friends but constantly having sexual tension building up between them. Maybe they flirt with each other but never think of it as something so serious and one night after a party they completely destroy each other. I fully trust you with this and how you’ll develop the story haha and don’t hold back. Thank youuu :*

Think twice | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── Thank you so much for the love on Endings, beginnings & I appreciate you for taking the time to share this. Hope you like it 🤍🎀

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𐙚 summary ──── What starts as a chill party, where they sit in their old habits, ends with new boundaries crossed and a heavy tension they can no longer ignore.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, swearing, mentions of alcohol and drinking, friends to lovers, bit of jealous!Lando, smut, slight teasing, praising, fingering & oral (sit on it), multiple orgasms, unprotected sex.

𐙚 word count ──── 4.8k

𐙚 date ──── Jan. 21, 2025

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THE TWO OF them are always standing next to each other, no matter the room they’re in. The context, just like the reason why this happens, is redundant. Plus, they don’t even do it on purpose; rather, they are unconsciously drawn to each other like two magnets.

The party has finally slowed to a lazy hum, the music just a tolerable background noise now. People linger in clusters around them, their voices a distant murmur blending with the faint bassline of a forgotten playlist. The living room is dim, lit mostly by the glow of a string of fairy lights drooping across the ceiling.

It was supposed to be a small gathering, but then a friend told a friend, and that friend told their friends. And now, it’s almost impossible to find a private spot to catch your breath without breathing someone else’s air.

Somehow, they did. They are tucked into the corner of a couch, their space a small bubble of comfort. Her legs are draped over his lap, bare skin warm against the fabric of his black jeans. He’s cradling her calf in one hand, his thumb absentmindedly stroking her skin.

Her fingers thread through his curls at the back of his head, twirling them lazily. It’s a casual gesture, but it sends a shiver through him every time she does it.

Their conversation shifted into easy gossiping about a mutual friend — someone they both think is trying a bit too hard with their Instagram posts.

“It’s fucking obvious he’s fishing for attention,” says Lando, sounding almost conspiratorial.

“I know, right? The cryptic ass captions, the mirror selfies. He thinks he’s smooth with it, too,” she replies, giggling at the thought.

Lando grins, his thumb still tracing circles on her leg. The banter feels safe, the kind of effortless connection they’ve always had. But underneath it, there’s a quiet tension that neither of them is ready to address. Because they are, maybe, a bit tipsy, or because none of them has ever had the courage to take it further, for some reason.

“Alright, I need to pee,” she announces suddenly, getting ready to stand.

But Lando tightens his grip on her legs, his lips twitching in a smirk. “No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do,” she insists, half-laughing, half-exasperated. “If I don’t go, I might pee on you.”

Lando shrugs, “Go ahead. Then I might discover a new kink,” he encourages her.

“New?” she laughs. “That implies you already have at least one.”

Lando winks at her without saying a word, the corners of his mouth curling into a mischievous smile.

She rolls her eyes, smiling back at his immature behavior. “My God. You’re actually the worst. Move.”

He doesn’t. Instead, Lando, just stares at her with an expression that’s visibly different. His usual playful gaze has shifted to something more intense, and she tells herself he’s just a little... intoxicated. Still, it makes her heart skip a beat, because he looks so adorable when his eyes focus on something so intently. And so hot, that it makes her almost forget why she wanted to get up in the first place.

“Lan, I’m not joking, I actually have to go,” she whispers, her voice softer now.

He exhales, loosening his grip but not before giving her leg a small, reluctant squeeze.

“Don’t get lost,” he says, the words carrying more weight than they should.

She shakes her head, slipping off the couch and disappearing into the hallway. Lando watches her go, his eyes trailing after her like he’s afraid she might actually not come back.

Which is ridiculous, because he should not care. There are lots of other girls that he can take home tonight if he wants to.

Want, being the keyword.

Leaning back against the couch, he sighs, running a hand through his hair. He’s always known she was the embodiment of the perfect girl for him — funny, kind, and loyal. But tonight, there’s something else in the air that makes his mind wander. The way she carries herself, her laugh, the way she makes everything around her seem brighter.

Lando realized long ago that he wants to he in her presence. The truth hit him like a punch in the gut. And he still feels that punch sometimes, especially when he sees her interacting with other people. Especially men.

He’s had thoughts about her before. Many thoughts. Wild fantasies he brushed off as nothing more than fleeting curiosity. And they’ve joked about it, too, their drunken ‘if we’re single at 35’ pact a favorite running gag. But tonight, it doesn’t feel like a joke — he might actually marry her if she keeps letting him invade her personal space like that. Except she wouldn’t have let Lando do that if she didn’t want him there.

He finds himself smiling at his own thoughts. But then, an unwanted stiffness claws his body.

She’s on the way back when a guy leaning against the wall near the bathroom is blocking her path. He’s tall, too close for Lando’s liking, and he is gesturing animatedly. She’s always too polite, smiling as she talks, but Lando notices the way she shifts her weight, edging away slightly.

Something close to jealousy ignites in his chest, but he manages to tame the feeling by looking away, and forcing himself to take a slow sip of his drink. She can handle herself, he knows that. But he’s also ready to step in, just in case he needs to. Most men don’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and he’s aware of how insistent some of them can be.

When she finally returns, Lando’s mood has shifted drastically, and she notices it the second she looks at him.

“Hey, you good?” she asks, plopping back down and swinging her legs over his lap again.

“Yeah,” he says shortly, his hand resuming its absent stroking on her shin.

Her brows knit together. “Not you lying to me. Come on, Landinho, what’s with you?”

“Nothing,” he insists, but his tone is clipped, and his eyes won’t quite meet hers.

She punches his arm lightly, trying to break through whatever wall he’s just put up. “You sure?”

He looks at her then, and the vulnerability in his gaze takes her breath away. “Sure,” he says. But his hand tightens slightly on her leg, like he’s holding onto her in more ways than one.

Her heart clenches. Lando is her friend, the one person she can always count on, but in this moment, she feels the air between them growing in different direction. It’s not the first time, and it doesn’t make her uncomfortable, but it’s not easy for her to sit in it, either.

“You’re being weird,” she states, trying to lighten the mood, but her voice wavers.

“Yeah, sorry,” he mutters, forcing a small smile. “Just tired,” adds Lando, but there’s something he hides behind his eyes, something that makes her chest ache.

She studies his face, her teasing words dying on her lips. His eyes are heavy-lidded, the usual spark dulled by the late hour and maybe one drink too many. His movements are slow, lazy, his thumb still caressing her skin.

“I can see that,” she says gently, sliding her legs off his lap. “Up. Come with me?”

The sudden loss of contact pulls him out of his haze, “Where?” asks Lando, his voice faintly slurred with exhaustion.

“Do you trust me?” she replies with a knowing smile, standing up and extending a hand to him. “My god, Lando. My friend gave me keys to one of the rooms upstairs in case I wanted to crash.”

He hesitates, glancing at her outstretched hand before finally letting out a soft laugh and taking it.

They make their way upstairs, the faint thump of music growing quieter with each step. The room isn’t far, tucked at the end of a hallway. She unlocks the door, revealing a small but cozy space. The room is dimly lit, with a single bedside lamp casting a muted glow over the single bed that’s pressed against one wall, a small dresser, and an armchair in the corner.

Lando steps in behind her, the faint hum of the party fading as the door clicks shut. His gaze sweeps over the room, taking in the space. She lingers by the door for a moment, turning the key with a soft click, locking them in; the sound feels final, and heavier than it should.

Lando notices the bed immediately, his eyes narrowing briefly before he rubs the back of his neck, a gesture that betrays his unease. His voice is low and uncertain as he says, “You know what, I can crash on the couch downstairs. It’s fine.”

She tilts her head, her lips curving into a small smile as she watches him fidget. “You can,” she agrees, knowing that Lando has the superpower to fall asleep anywhere, no matter the place or how loud the background noise is. “Unfortunately, I locked the door,” she adds with fake concern in her voice.

Lando glances at her, his expression caught somewhere between playful and wary. “Yeah. You can unlock it, though.”

“But I won’t,” she replies, her smile softening, her words carrying an unspoken challenge that Lando catches immediately.

His lips part, and for a moment, he says nothing, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. Then, quietly, his voice dipping lower, he says, “Then don’t.”

His words linger between them, and she feels the weight of his gaze as it shifts to her. There’s no teasing in his expression now, no trace of the lighthearted Lando she’s used to.

She lets her arms fall to her side, her pulse quickening.

Lando’s chest rises and falls steadily, though there’s a tautness to his posture. His gaze darts back to the bed, then to her, and she swears she sees a flicker of something in his eyes — fear? Desire? Anticipation?

His jaw tightens, his eyes searching hers, and she feels the weight of everything left unsaid pressing down on them both. Every glance, every touch, every joke that lingered a second too long — it’s all there, bubbling to the surface.

The tension between them that has simmered for months, maybe even years, suddenly feels unbearable. Lando’s eyes meet hers once again, and the quiet resolve in her gaze breaks something inside him. And then, suddenly, a glance he catches from her it’s all it takes. The restraint he’s held onto for so long snaps like a rubber band stretched too far. Before he knows it, he’s closing the gap between them, his hands cupping her face as his lips crash against hers.

She responds instantly, her hands tangling in his curls as she pulls him closer. The kiss is all-consuming, months of buried feelings and unsaid words spilling out in a rush. It’s intoxicating, a heavy blend of alcohol and the faint sweetness of her cherry lip balm. His lips are soft, impossibly so, molding against hers like they were made to fit. The taste of him is dizzying, a perfect balance of warmth and want, and each movement of his mouth sends sparks of heat rippling through her.

It’s overwhelming, the way Lando kisses her — gentle, but with a growing intensity that leaves her breathless, her heart pounding as if it’s trying to match the rhythm of his. His fingers trail down to her neck, squeezing lightly and pulling her against him as they stumble backward toward the bed.

“Do you know how long—” he begins against her lips, his voice rough with need.

“Too long,” she cuts him off with another kiss while her fingers are rushing to tug at the hem of his shirt.

Lando groans as they tumble onto the bed. Their breaths are loud and uneven, filling the small space as their lips crash together again, need and desire fueling every movement. Her palm presses against the small of his back, coaxing him between her legs. He instinctively follows her guidance, his body lowering against hers until his forehead rests on hers. At that, Lando sighs, not with frustration but a soft exasperation that halts them both.

“Are we… okay?” he asks, half-amused and half-concerned. “We shouldn’t—we should not do this. Not like this.”

She doesn’t release him, her hands still on his sides, her legs loosely wrapped around him. “We are,” she assures him, her voice calm but insistent. “It’s just us, Lando.”

His brows furrow, his lips parting in disbelief. “I know. I just don’t want you to wake up tomorrow and—”

Her hands move to his face, cupping it firmly and forcing him to look directly at her. “Regret it?” the girl asks, her thumbs stroking his cheekbones. “Don’t be silly. You know this isn’t about tonight. I’ve wanted you for a while now. I know you do, too.”

His eyes flicker with something raw, and he swallows hard. “I do,” he agrees. “But. It’d be such a waste to mess it up.”

The weight of his confession settles over them, and he falls onto the mattress beside her. For a moment, they both stare up at the ceiling, their fingers brushing tentatively before intertwining. It’s quiet, save for the hum of the party faintly bleeding through the walls.

And then, “You’re such a good kisser, by the way,” she finally breaks the silence.

He lets out a chuckle, visibly affected. “You’re not making it any easier.”

“I’m already messed up because of you, Lan,” she confesses, turning onto her side, her fingers finding his arm and tracing slow patterns along its length. “I trust us. No matter the outcome.”

Her hand travels to his chest, her fingers brushing lightly over his collarbone before moving to his jaw. She traces the line of it, her touch light but electrifying. Finally, her thumb brushes over his bottom lip, her gaze following her movements so closely, as if she wants to devour him.

Their thoughts run wild, revisiting every stolen glance, the tension, the want — it’s always been there. Every moment brought them here.

And now?

“Do you, really?” asks Lando, his voice laced with curiosity.

She nods, her hands sliding down to rest over his, her fingers curling around his. “Completely. I trust us to figure it out as we go. Don’t you?”

He lets her words settle, a warmth spreading through his body. He does. But he still has to think twice before agreeing to something so drastic, especially when he is faced with something he wants so badly that it makes him burn with impatience.

Finally, Lando sighs, looking at her.

“It’s not a big deal, right?” she says with a quiet laugh, her voice tinged with both affection and relief. “We’ve always been good at just... being us.”

He smiles at that, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. “That’s true. We’re pretty fucking great at that.”

Lando’s breathing hitches as she guides his hand to her ass, pressing it against her curves with an undeniable confidence. His grip tightens instinctively, and she drapes a leg over his waist, pulling herself closer. Their eyes lock, her fingers tracing his features, as if committing every contour to memory. They’ve never been so close to each other, and the intimacy of the moment makes his heart race, while hers almost melts under the warmth of his body.

“You’re going to ruin me,” he admits matter-of-factly.

Her lips curl into a faint smile. “Hopefully,” she whispers, her hand traveling south, to work on unbuttoning his jeans.

Lando swallows hard, his gaze darkening as he grips her tighter. “If I fuck you tonight…” his voice drops, laced with a possessiveness that makes her shiver. “I won’t be able to let another guy come anywhere near you again.”

Her eyebrows arch in surprise, finally able to put the pieces together, understanding why Lando was acting so strange earlier.

“Are you jealous, Lando?” she teases, though there’s a flicker of curiosity in her tone.

Lando’s response is silent; instead, he leans in, his lips finding the soft curve of her neck. He sucks lightly, then harder, leaving a blooming hickey that makes her gasp.

When he pulls back, his voice is firm, “No, I just want people to stay away from what’s mine.”

Her breath catches, and before she can stop herself, the word escapes her lips in a near-whisper. “Yours.”

The corners of his mouth twitch, but he doesn’t say anything, letting the intensity in his gaze speak for him. She pushes at his chest, making him fall back against the mattress with a soft laugh, and crawls on top of him, her thighs straddling his hips.

Impatiently, her hands work on his shirt, pushing it up his chest. “Off,” she demands, tugging until he lifts his arms and lets her pull it over his head.

His hands waste no time, slipping under her skirt and pulling at the lace of her panties. “These,” he says quickly, his breath warm against her collarbone, “are in my way.”

With a sharp pull, he slides them down her thighs, and she shivers as the cool air kisses her damp skin. She leans down, burying her face in the crook of his neck to hide her embarrassment as he guides her hips forward, her bare core pressing against the warmth of his abs. The firm ridges of muscle beneath her send a jolt of pleasure through her body, and she lets out a soft moan.

Lando’s hand tightens on her hip, his thumb brushing over her skin. “Look at that,” he breathes heavily, “What got you so excited, hm?”

She whimpers at his words, the heat pooling in her cheeks as much as between her thighs. “Don’t—” she mumbles into his neck, her voice muffled and shy.

He chuckles softly, the vibration of it against her skin making her shudder. “No, that’s so hot,” he teases, moving her hips just slightly so she drags against him. His own breath catches, and his hips shift upward, pressing the hardness of his length against her thigh. “You feel what you’re doing to me? It’s mutual.”

She lifts her head, her eyes meeting his as she lets her fingers trail down his chest. Next, she adjusts herself as her hand slides lower, brushing against the waistband of his pants before she pushes them down just enough to free him. His cock springs free, and she bites her lip at the sight of it, her own arousal growing as she reaches out to wrap her hand around him.

Lando groans, his head falling back against the pillow. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice rough and full of longing.

As she leans down to press her lips to his chest, her tongue flicking over his nipple, a sound escapes him that’s somewhere between a gasp and a moan. She glances up again, amused. “Well,” she teases, her voice playful but sultry, “I think I just found your new kink.”

Lando lets out a weak chuckle, his hand tangling in her hair as he pulls her back up to kiss her. “Shut up,” he speaks over her lips, but the way his hips buck against her hand tells her she’s right. “Everything you do is my kink,” he whispers, the rawness in his voice making her heart race.

Her cheeks flush a deeper shade, and with a playful glint in her eye, her hand squeezes his cock lightly, eliciting a sharp inhale from him. “Sorry,” she giggles, feigning innocence, “I just wanted to make sure.”

He scoffs, shaking his head with a smirk before his hands cup her ass firmly, pressing her harder against him. His voice is rough and dripping with need as he almost begs, “Come sit on my face.”

The unexpected plea is leaving her breathless, painting her face in confusion. “What?” she stammers, her voice nearly swallowed by the thrum of arousal coursing through her.

“Yeah, you heard me,” Lando assures her, his tone insistent, his eyes ablaze with anticipation.

Without waiting for her to argue, he pushes her skirt up around her waist, revealing the soft skin of her thighs, and pulls her closer to his face. She hesitates for a moment, her nerves warring with her desire, but when his strong hands guide her gently and his lips press a teasing kiss against her inner thigh, she gives in. The first swipe of his tongue against her entrance makes her gasp, her hand flying to the wall to steady herself.

Lando groans as he tastes her, the sound vibrating against her core and sending shockwaves through her body. One arm wraps tightly around her thigh, anchoring her to him, while his free hand drifts down to his cock, stroking himself in tandem with the rhythm of his tongue. Her moans spill into the air, mixing with his as Lando’s mouth works her over like a man starved, warm and wet and utterly relentless.

“Lan,” she breathes, her voice shaky as the intensity builds. Her hips jerk against his mouth instinctively, and he responds by pulling her even closer, burying his face deeper between her legs.

His tongue flicks, swirls, and presses in all the right places, and she can barely keep herself upright. She has to press both of her palms on the wall, but even then it’s not enough to keep her grounded. Not when Lando laps at her clit, his fingers digging into her thighs to keep her still as her body begins to tremble.

“You taste so fucking good,” he informs her between strokes of his tongue, his words muffled but clear enough to make her toes curl.

As her breaths turn shallow and erratic, she feels the pressure coiling tightly in her abdomen. Lando senses it, too, and his grip tightens, his movements growing more fervent. “Wanna come for me?” he asks as impatient as she is.

Before she can even process his question, her climax crashes into her like a tidal wave, her thighs trembling around his head as her moans echo through the room. Lando doesn’t stop, his mouth and tongue coaxing her through every pulse and tremor until she’s gasping for air.

In one swift, effortless motion, he pulls her down onto the bed and flips her over, positioning himself above her. His lips are slick, his gaze heavy-lidded with lust as he pumps two fingers into her, the wet heat of her still clenching around him.

“That’s it,” he encourages, his thumb brushing against her sensitive clit as his fingers curl inside. “Let me feel you.”

Her body arches off the bed as another wave of pleasure crests over her, Lando’s name spilling from her lips in breathless cries. The sheer intensity of his touch and the quickness of it all leave her spinning, her mind barely able to keep up as he drives her over the edge once more.

By the time her breathing begins to steady, Lando leans down, his lips brushing hers in a lingering kiss, tasting her satisfaction on his tongue. He grins against her mouth, utterly smug but entirely captivated.

“See how fucking delicious you are?” he whispers, and she can only nod, still lost in the aftermath of him unraveling her completely.

Seeing the pleasure etched across her face, Lando can barely hold it together. His hands tremble slightly as he shoves his jeans and boxers down for good, freeing himself at last. His cock, heavy and flushed, rests against her thigh, the warmth of her skin giving him goosebumps. He breathes heavily, his chest rising and falling in sync with hers as he pauses for just a moment, meeting her gaze with a mix of vulnerability and pure lust.

“Are we really gonna do this?” asks Lando, his voice hiding too much desire under its raspy tone.

His eyes search hers, looking for any hint of doubt. Luckily, there is none. She just nods frantically, her hands sliding down his back to cup the firm muscles of his ass.

Her touch sends electricity through him, and she guides him where she needs him most, her body arching in anticipation. “I want you. Please.”

Without breaking eye contact, he sinks into her, and the world stops for both of them. His head falls forward, a low groan rumbling from his chest as he feels her warmth envelop him, her slick heat drawing him in effortlessly. Her body opens for him so easily, so perfectly, that it steals his breath. The tension that had coiled tightly in her frame melts away as her legs wrap around his hips, pulling him closer.

Her arms encircle his shoulders, holding him tightly while she gasps Lando’s name. Her voice is music to his ears, and he presses his forehead against hers, the connection between them both overwhelming, yet grounding. Her fingers slide into his curls, playing with the strands at the nape of his neck as her hips shift instinctively, adjusting to his size.

“God, you feel…” he trails off, unable to find the words. Instead, he lets his body speak for him, drawing back before thrusting forward again. His movements are purposeful and powerful, each one making the bed creak slightly beneath them and pushing her up and down the sheets.

Her lips part with soft cries, her fingers tightening in his hair as her body meets each of his thrusts. “Lando,” she moans, her voice full of need and adoration, spurring him on. “Yes, that feels so good. Don’t stop.”

He catches her mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing her sounds as his hands wander over her body. His fingers hook under the hem of her t-shirt, and he tugs it upward, breaking the kiss momentarily to pull it over her head. The sight of her bare skin, flushed and glistening, takes his breath away. Her breasts are adorned with black lace, and the contrast against her skin ignites something primal in him.

“Stunning,” says Lando just as his hand drifts to her chest, brushing over the delicate fabric.

The way she arches into his touch, her nails scraping lightly against his shoulders, drives him wild. His thrusts deepen, his hips moving with purpose as the room fills with the sounds of their bodies meeting, her moans, and his ragged breaths.

“Fucking hell,” he rasps. His jaw clenches as he feels her tightening around him. “You’re killing me. So tight and—”

Before he can finish, she pulls him into a kiss. It’s shallow, their lips barely meeting as they breathe each other’s air. Her nails dig into his back, her legs trembling as she holds him as close as humanly possible.

“You’re so good, Lando,” she murmurs, her voice quivering, her praise like gasoline on his fire. “My favorite boy.”

Her words send him over the edge of control, his hips stuttering as he thrusts deep inside her, feeling her walls begin to flutter and clench around his cock. Her back arches, her head burying into the pillow as her orgasm crashes over her like a tidal wave. Again.

Her moans are unfiltered, and she clutches him like he’s her lifeline, while Lando stills inside her, groaning low and long as her body grips him so tightly that knocks the air out of his lungs. He presses his forehead against her chest, their breaths hurried as her aftershocks pulse around him so sweetly. Her nails scrape lightly down his back, grounding them both, continuing to whisper his name like a prayer.

It’s enough for Lando to surrender to his own orgasm, his body trembling as wave after wave of release takes him over. He stays buried inside her, unwilling to part just yet. The warm tightness around him makes him shudder, his hand gripping her thigh to anchor himself.

When he finally pulls out, he hesitates before pressing his knee between her legs, feeling the slick warmth of their combined arousal smearing against his skin. She squirms against him, her overstimulated body trembling, her hips shifting involuntarily as aftershocks ripple through her.

Lando watches her, his eyes dark with satisfaction, his voice husky as he whispers, “Forget 35. Let’s get married tomorrow.”

She exhales sharply, a laugh bubbling out of her. “I’m down,” she teases, her tone light but affectionate. “Let’s book the venue now.”

He looks at her, gaze softening, filled with something deeper as he reaches behind her and, with one measured motion, unclasps her bra. The suddenness of it catches her off guard, her eyes widening as he tosses it aside like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Before she can say a word, Lando leans over the side of the bed, fishing for his shirt. He finds it, holding it up, then tugging it over her head, the oversized fabric swallowing her frame.

“Perfect fit,” he says softly, his fingers brushing against her arms as he helps her adjust it. The gesture makes her chest tighten, her heart swelling with an ache she doesn’t fully understand yet.

After that, Lando slides back into his boxers and pulls the covers over both of them. The bed is small, forcing their bodies to press together in a tangle of limbs. It doesn’t feel awkward, though. It feels like a new home, safe and peaceful.

He rests his head on her chest, his breath warm and steady against her, while his hand absently caresses her through the fabric of his shirt, his fingers brushing over her nipple. Everything about the moment feels somehow so normal, like they’ve been this way forever.

The silence stretches on, so comforting, until she suddenly breaks it with a soft groan. “I have to pee again.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2025

[shurisneakers]

saw your requests were open and i figured i would humbly aid 🫡

everyone is always like “oh! bucky with a golden retriever reader this! bucky with a sunshine reader that!” what about bucky with a reader who’s just as moody as he is??

no one ever writes two grumps together and i think it would be an interesting dynamic

Summary: It's New Years Eve and this man simply refuses to do anything but be a pain in your ass.

Warnings: cursing, alcohol

A/N: Sid. did you know. did you know that you're literally a genius. you're so right about grumpy x grumpy. i do not know if I have done this justice but I wrote this out on my phone because I like this request so much thank you for sending one in 😭❤️

New Year’s Eve is a migraine wrapped in tinsel and cheap champagne. You’ve seen too many years roll over into nothing to care anymore.

Doesn’t matter. You’re here because the bar’s open, and when someone says “open bar,” you take it as a challenge to see how open it can really be.

“What’ll it be?” the bartender asks.

“Whatever’s most expensive.”

He ducks under the counter, comes back with a bottle that looks more like a museum piece than alcohol. Fancy glasswork, gold lettering, the works.

He starts, “This one’s got notes of—”

“Let me see,” you interrupt.

The second the bottle’s in your hands, you turn and walk away.

He sputters behind you, but you wave him off. “Put it on the billionaire’s tab."

You snake through the crowd and confetti, nodding at a few familiar faces but not stopping for any. Emergency exit in sight, you take a seat where you can watch the chaos unfold while staying out of it.

"Pass the bottle."

You don't even bother looking at him as you respond, "Go steal your own."

"You took the most expensive one."

"Get another one."

"This is easier."

"Go fuck yourself."

"Real festive of you."

Still, despite your best efforts, he’s already taking a seat, uninvited.

You take another swig before passing the bottle to him without another word.

He glances at you. "Why are you here?"

"Well, it was quiet before someone showed up."

"Must'a really pissed you off," he says, tipping the bottle back.

God, Bucky was fucking annoying. But his cheeks are flushed pink and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbow.

"Why are you here?" you scowl.

"It's quiet," he replies, like just knows it'll make you mad. He's right.

"You’re in my space.”

“This isn’t your space.”

“I was here first.”

“Congrats. Want a medal?”

"Leave."

"No," he states, resolutely.

Bucky’s the human equivalent of a rock in your shoe—persistent, irritating, and impossible to ignore.

You feel face warm with irritation. "Where's your date gone?"

"Nat set me up, I've never met her before," he says, as though it’s the least surprising thing in the world. "Haven't seen her in thirty minutes."

"What, you couldn't brood your way into her pants?"

He gives you a dry, unimpressed look. "I don't kiss and tell."

"Doesn't look like you're doing any kissing at all," you scoff.

He tips the bottle back, takes a slow drink, then hands it to you. "You think about me kissing a lot?"

"I don't think about you."

He snorts, low and humorless, and you hate that it makes you want to laugh.

Bucky's fucking annoying. He's run his hand too many times through his hair, and there’s a smudge of something—lipstick, maybe—on his collar, and he's stretched out too damn much, like he's right at home.

He sends you a look. It makes you want to hide. You hate the way his eyes linger, like he’s waiting for you to flinch.

"Bottle," you demand.

He hands it over silently, crossing his arms over his chest, staring right ahead.

"How much longer?" he asks, checking his watch.

"You can leave."

"Sure can," he says, but doesn’t move.

"So leave."

"No."

You stare at him. "Find somewhere else to sit."

"No," he replies.

The minutes stretch. The bottle passes back and forth, your irritation simmering every time he exhales, every time he looks at you like he’s got something to say but doesn’t.

Bucky was fucking annoying. He smelt like expensive cologne and Tide detergent. His eyes are tired and his voice is scratchy. when he shifts beside you, it’s like he takes up more space than anyone has a right

He holds his hand out for the bottle. You give it to him.

"What are you gonna do at midnight?" he asks.

"Finish this bottle."

"What about after?"

"I'll get another one."

Bucky rolls his eyes. “That all?”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t.” You glare at him, but he doesn’t flinch. He never does.

“Good."

His jaw’s tense, his eyes dark and sharp, and for a second, you think maybe he’s as pissed at himself as you are.

Silence falls. It’s not comfortable, but it’s not uncomfortable either. It’s just there. Like him.

"What’re you gonna do at midnight? Cry into whiskey?” you ask pointedly.

“I could, but you drank it all." He rolls his eyes.

There's a lot left. You give him the bottle. He takes it without a word, fingers brushing against yours.

Bucky takes a swig. “No one waiting for you at midnight?"

"Loads," you scoff. "Got a line out the damn door waiting to kiss me."

"Uh huh," be says.

There's silence.

You look at him, only for find him eyeing you.

“No one waiting for you?”

You scoff. “Why, you volunteering?”

He doesn’t answer right away, just studies you with those sharp, unreadable eyes. “Maybe.”

"Sure, Barnes, I'll kiss you at midnight," you drag sarcastically.

His face doesn't shift. Your brows furrow.

"Christ, you're bein' serious," you mumble.

He shrugs non committedly. "I could think of worse things to do."

"Wow," you say dryly. "Charming."

"Just sayin'."

With two minutes to go, you find that it's harder to look him in the eye. Your heart stumbles over itself, and you take another drink to cover the sudden heat crawling up your neck.

Either the whiskey was really starting to take hold, or the damn spirit of the damn season was getting to you.

"Look, I wasn't plannin' on asking anyone else," he says.

You raise an eyebrow.

"Do with that what you will," he says, taking a swig.

"What about your date?" you test.

"Don't think she remembers I exist."

You observe him. His shirt is unbuttoned, and his coat jacket lay on his lap. His bowtie also hung precariously from his neck.

Bucky was really fucking annoying. His hair is toussled and his stubble is rough and you're fairly certain his nose is sunburnt. You know this because you've been staring at him every day from the second he stepped foot in the compound, withdrawn and scowling.

It's late and you're tired of a lot of things and you're careless, so you stare too long. He catches you.

"What?" he bites.

"I'm assessing," you say, then add grudgingly, “You're not... terrible."

Which is a lie. He's beautiful. He's acutely aware of this on some days. Those days are harder for you.

He stares at you. "I can see why there's a line out the door for you."

"Go join them," you say. "I'll finally get some fuckin' quiet."

He exhales a short laugh. "No."

You can hear the crowd shouting numbers, but it’s distant, unimportant. Bucky’s eyes are on you, steady.

The crowd cheers.

Bucky's really fucking annoying.

But he kisses you like he's liked you all his life. Like he's real tired of waiting. It lingers just long enough to make your stomach flip when you realise he still tastes like whiskey.

When he pulls back, he doesn’t look smug. He doesn’t say anything at all. Just hands you the bottle and leans back like nothing happened.

His cheeks are red. His lips are swollen. He's never looked prettier in his damn life.

“Happy New Year,” you mutter, staring at the bottle because you can’t look at him.

“Sure,” he says, voice low, almost hoarse.

[freeabortionslol]

broken heater (a lake house series fic) ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

pairings: quinn hughes x reader, slight jack hughes x reader summary: reader gets cold because of the broken heater and goes to quinn warnings!! cursing, cuddling (ofc) a/n: love love love love love and I can't stress this enough, LOVEEE the requests/opinions on this series wc: 1.5k anon: "her room is freezing cold during christmas and she knows out of everyone quinn runs the warmest (also just the own she wants to go to.) and she goes to his room and quinn offered to cuddle her and they cuddled together all night , best sleep for both of them"

Another night during the christmas trip at the lake house meant another night freezing cold in your room. No matter how many blankets you had on your bed, you were still shivering, trying to find even the smallest pocket of warmth. Luke came into your room not long before, complaining about the same thing. You graciously offered him two of your blankets, being the people pleaser you were, but now you were left with even less heat than you began the night with. You really tried to deal with it, squirming every so often to find a warm spot on the mattress, but it was nowhere to be found. Quietly, you stood up from the bed, in hopes that Jack would offer his. You opened your door slowly, stepping out and feeling the cold hardwood on your bare feet as you made your way down the hall. You stopped in front of Jack’s door, knocking on it twice before stepping back to wait on him. You heard the rustle of the blankets, the blankets that sounded so warm and cozy, as he made his way. When he opened the door, he was shirtless, looking frazzled- yet his eyes softened when he realized it was you.

“H-Hey,” He said quietly, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Everything okay?”

You licked your lips, rubbing your eyes from the exhaustion of the day. “My room is like 62 degrees, can I sleep in your bed?” You yawned, covering your mouth with the back of your hand as you waited for his response.

Jack let out a light chuckle, one more nervous than humored. “Uh- not tonight?”

You blinked in surprise, your eyes widening. “What? Why?”

Jack turned his gaze away, rubbing the back of his neck. “There's uh…” He said, his voice barely above a whisper. “There’s a girl in my bed.”

Your shoulders slumped, sending him a look of disappointment. “Jack,” You groaned quietly.

“I know, I know-”

“Is it the same girl from the other day?” You asked, whispering to not wake anyone in the house.

Jack clicked his tongue, his gaze centered on the floor. “It’s um…” He paused, looking up at you for a split second before glancing at his bed. “A different…girl.”

You furrowed your brows, your head tilting to the side slightly. You ran your tongue across your bottom row of teeth as you crossed your arms, sending Jack the same disappointment-filled glare. “Fine,” you whispered, turning your body slightly. “Do what you want, I'll just…go somewhere else.” 

“Night, princess.” Jack said before shutting his door, leaving you out in the hallway by yourself. You stood there for a moment, the cold creeping back in as Jack’s door clicked shut. The hallway seemed quieter now, the faint sounds of the wind outside barely reaching your ears. You felt a strange mix of frustration and disappointment stirring inside you, but you weren’t sure if it was more about Jack’s casual dismissal or the fact that you were still freezing cold, alone in the dark. As you turned to head back to your room, you were reminded of the fact that you shouldn’t have gone to Jack in the first place. There was someone waiting for you downstairs who you knew wouldn’t have someone in their bed, someone completely willing to give up some of their space for you. You let out a sigh, fixing your posture as you headed towards the stairs. The railing was cold on your hand as you made your way down, each shiver a gentle reminder of how long this trip would be. You descended the stairs slowly, trying to ignore the chill seeping into your skin. The house was eerily quiet at this hour, the only sounds being the occasional creak of the wood under your feet and the soft whistling of the wind outside. When you reached the bottom, you looked back up at the stairs, half-hoping Jack might come back down to get you. With a reluctant sigh, knowing he wouldn’t, you made your way to Quinn’s door. You knocked twice, no response. You knocked again, no response. You huffed out your breath, slowly turning the doorknob as you left one last knock. You cracked the door just slightly, catching a glimpse of Quinn asleep in his humongous king-sized bed. You and everyone else knew it was the comfiest bed in the entire house, seeing as Quinn had it decked out with some fancy mattress topper, and an even fancier duvet. 

“Quinn,” You whispered from the door, trying to wake him just slightly. He stirred slightly, the soft rise and fall of his chest indicating he was deep in sleep. You hesitated, not wanting to disturb him too much, but you had no other choice. The cold was unbearable, and you could already feel your teeth chattering again as the icy air seeped through the hallway. "Quinn," you whispered again, a little louder this time, your voice slightly pleading. "Quinn, wake up." At the second call, Quinn's eyes fluttered open. He blinked a few times, clearly disoriented, before slowly sitting up in bed. His hair was messy, and the pillow had left an imprint on his face, but he still managed to look effortlessly good. 

"Hey," he mumbled, rubbing his eyes with one hand. "What’s going on?" 

You stood in the doorway, trying not to look too desperate, but it was hard when you were shaking from the cold. "The house is fucking freezing," you admitted softly, your voice almost embarrassed. "Could I sleep in the bed with you tonight?" 

Quinn glanced at the bed, then back at you, his expression softening. He shifted his blankets and patted the space next to him, giving you a knowing smile. "Of course. Sorry, I know I need to get the heater fixed." He chuckled quietly, his voice warm and teasing, but there was no hint of annoyance. "Come on, you’re not bothering me."

“Thanks,” You said, climbing over him to get into the bed. “I’ve literally covered myself in blankets. I think I just need to be held.” You giggled softly, your voice still a whisper. Quinn’s eyes flickered with a hint of amusement as you climbed into the bed, and his grin softened at your words. He adjusted the blankets around you, making sure you were comfortable as he shifted beside you. The bed was spacious, but the warmth from his body was immediately reassuring, like a welcome haven against the cold. Quinn shifted onto his side to face you, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. You wrapped your arms around his body, tucking them underneath his as your face settled into his shoulder. Quinn's warmth enveloped you instantly, his body radiating heat that seeped into your chilled skin. The soft rhythm of his breath, steady and calm, was like a comforting lullaby, a perfect contrast to the cold, silent house around you. He adjusted slightly, pulling you even closer, his arms now fully around you, ensuring you were snug against him. His chest pressed lightly against you, and you could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath you. 

"You good?" Quinn murmured, his voice low and soft, a hint of concern lingering despite the ease of the moment. He tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle, like he was careful not to disturb the peaceful stillness that had settled between you. 

You hummed quietly, pressing your face deeper into his shoulder, the scent of him, a mix of fresh air and a hint of cologne filling your senses. "Yeah, much better," you whispered, your voice muffled slightly by the fabric of his shirt. The warmth of his body against yours felt like a weight lifting, and you allowed yourself to melt into his embrace. 

Quinn's grip on you tightened just a little, his hand resting lightly on your lower back, pulling you closer still. "Good," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't mind being your personal heater." 

You chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against his chest. "I think I might take you up on that offer more often." 

Quinn laughed quietly, his chest moving with the sound. "Anytime," he said, his tone playful but sincere. "Just...next time, don’t wait so long to ask." You smiled against his shoulder, feeling a warmth that wasn’t just physical, but something deeper, a comfort you hadn't realized you needed until now. There was a quiet, unspoken understanding between you two, something that made the stillness feel comfortable rather than awkward. As the minutes passed, you could feel your body slowly unwinding, the coldness from the night fading away as Quinn's embrace became a sanctuary. His breathing remained steady, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest under your cheek was like a steady anchor, keeping you grounded and at ease.

"Goodnight, Quinny," you murmured, your voice drowsy as your eyelids fluttered shut. 

"Goodnight," he replied, his voice softer now, as though he, too, was already slipping into the peaceful quiet of sleep. The world outside the warmth of the bed seemed far away now. In Quinn's arms, you found the kind of peace that let you relax fully, the kind of warmth that only comes from being held by someone who genuinely cared.

[kining-the-evil]

120 house md :))

Prompt: “Your hair is so soft…” (the prompt list I’m doing it from)

Warnings: none

An: I did House sisnce you didn’t specify a character. If you wanted someone else feel free to send in a new request

“What’s the point of coming to a doctor if you refuse to take their help?”

You watched as Greg paced in front of you, his cane making a hard thunk everytime it hit the ground. He had been complaining for the past 15 minutes about two parents who were apparently fighting him on every suggestion he made for their son who was sick.

The case had already lasted a week, and after your husband refused to come home three nights in a row you had decided to bring in a freshly made meal and force him to eat. Instead, he completely ignored the warm container of food and instead immediately started complaining about the family. Although, to be fair, you hadn’t really been listening to him. Instead you were taking in his appearance.

He was in the same clothes he’d left the apartment in a few days ago, though the jacket was slung over his desk and the shirt was significantly more wrinkled than it had been when he’d left. His scruff had grown out slightly from missing his weakly shave, and his hair… god his hair. It was all messy and sticking up slightly. You couldn’t help but wish your fingers were running through it.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Nope.” You hummed happily as you ran a hand over your skirt. Your eyes glanced back up to see your husband staring at you, and you motioned for him to come closer. When he did you reached up to tug him down onto the seat with you, and once he was at your hight you ran a hand through his hair. “Your hair is so soft…” you hummed as your fingers ran through it.

Greg looked at you for a moment before sighing and turning in the seat to lay down, his head resting on your lap. You took this as permission and began running your hand through his hair repeatedly, scratching his scalp every so often. Your husband was quiet for a moment before launching back into his complaining like nothing had happened.

After a bit the door to his office was thrown open and the three assistants you’d only ever met once came storming in. “House, we didn’t find anything just like I said we wouldn’t-“ whoever it was cut himself off when he saw yourself and your husband on the couch.

“Human error, check again,” Greg demanded without missing a beat, but none of them moved. Greg held his head up slightly to see them better. “What are you waiting for? An invitation?”

“Who’s that?” A man with some sort of accent asked (you a summed Australian).

“The woman who’s gonna watch you all get fired if you don't go now!” Greg snapped, which seemed to be all they needed as the three were rushed out of the room.

“You didn’t tell them you were married?”

“Why would I? I don’t want to appear human,” he said as he laid his head back down on your lap and you continued to comb through his hair

[moonstruckme]

Hey Mae!!! I saw that the requests were open so I thought I would request something but if I misread it or something then please ignore this!

I was wondering if you could write something with reader not used to being taken care of? Like they have always taken care of others and have never had the opportunity to be taken care of so when someone else does they feel the need to do something for them in return? I was thinking of maybe Remus for this one? Or maybe a poly! Ship but you can write whoever you want!!

I understand if this is not a topic you would like to write about but I just love your writing and thought I would give it a try. Thank you for reading this anyway and I hope you have a wonderful day/night!

(Sorry it’s such a long request)

No you were right lovely! Thanks for your request :)

roommate!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 625 words

You pad into the kitchen, blanket around your shoulders and half-dissolved lozenge tucked into your cheek, to find the sink clear of dishes yet again. Guilt grows like winding vines around your ribcage. 

You put on the kettle. Stand over it as the steam starts to rise, breathing in the thick air and imagining you can feel the pressure in your sinuses lessening slightly. You make a cup of turmeric tea with honey for yourself, and English breakfast for Remus, stirring in a tiny bit of sugar the way he likes. You’re careful to keep it well away from you and your potential contagious-ness while you carry it upstairs. 

You knock softly in case, but Remus is awake, as you knew he’d be. 

“Morning,” he says, looking up from his book with a smile. The sight of him, sleep-rumpled and happy to see you, is almost too much. His eyes flicker down to the mugs you’re carrying, eyebrows lifting. “For me?” 

“Mhm.” You pass it to him, ignoring his soft tutting when you turn it in your grip so the handle is facing out towards him. 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says warmly. He blows steam off the top, honeyed eyes on yours. “I should be the one getting up to make you tea, really. How are you?” 

“I’m okay.” You shrug, taking a sip of your tea. The heat dissolves your lozenge faster, double soothing for your throat. “And you’ve done more than enough already. Sorry about the dishes.” 

Remus’ expression clouds with confusion for a moment before he realizes what you’re talking about. “Oh, I don’t mind. I wouldn’t be doing dishes if I was unwell, either.” 

“Thanks for doing them for me,” you say softly. Or you try to, but it ends in a rasp, your throat contracting against a cough that doesn’t form. You clear it embarrassedly. 

Your roommate’s brows bend with sympathy. “Don’t worry about it,” he tells you. “It’s really no problem. You don’t need to bring me tea just because I did a few of your dishes.” 

“I want to make it up to you.” 

His expression softens. “There’s nothing to make up, love. It’s not a debt that needs to be repaid.” 

You frown, chewing your lozenge. “At least let me make you breakfast. Is there anything you’re craving?” 

“No.” Remus smiles at you. Not quite confused, almost disbelieving. “You don’t need to make me anything. You should be resting.” 

“I’ve been resting.” You sniff, wincing at the pain it sends through your head. You’ve been either in bed or on the couch for days, and meanwhile Remus has been cleaning up your messes, keeping quiet so you can sleep, and bringing you soup from that place you like down the street. 

“It’s my turn to help now,” you say. 

“It’ll be your turn when I’m poorly and miserable.” Remus sets a hand to your forehead, humming disapprovingly. You use every scrap of willpower you have left not to melt into his bed. “Listen to me, alright? I don’t mind looking after you. It’s not transactional. I washed your dishes because they were there and I had the time, and—” He gives you a playful look. “—because I know that if I were up all night coughing, I wouldn’t want to worry about dishes. Okay?” 

His eyes hold yours. You feel perhaps the most out of it you have since this illness came on. Drunk, almost. “Okay,” you capitulate. 

Remus smiles. “Thank you. So you can stop trying to think up ways to get even.” He picks up his tea. “I can see that head of yours working. Leave it alone, it’s going through enough.” 

You smile back, caught. “Thanks for all your help.” 

“Don’t worry about it, love.”

[latenightdaydreams]

I have an idea that firefighter!Konig meets reader on a mission, but she's a heavy sleeper who's sleepong naked and unaware that the building is on fire. I'll leave the rest for you. I know I'll sending you a lot of requests, so it's okay if you ignore them or don't have time to do it. Take care❤️🎀

This😮‍💨 lordy what a naughty man

Firefighter!König x Sleeping!Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

🩷

>cw: fem/afab, photos, somno, non-con, touching

1.0k word count

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.

König has been a firefighter for the last 23 years. He has seen a lot of things over the years; some sad and others were happy events. From losing someone in the fire to saving a dog from the flames. Today, he saw something completely unexpected though.

The call came in that there was a local apartment building that had caught fire. The fire started in a top floor apartment and began to spread. He showed up with two other trucks to try and contain the fire. His men worked on evacuating the building. He ran up to the fourth floor and was helping families to the stairway before turning to his men.

One young woman in pajamas came rushing up to König with a worried look on her face, her voice rushed as she was shaking.

“My roommate’s door was locked and I couldn’t get it open! She is still in her room!”

König nods, “What apartment?”

“413!”

“Okay, go with my men to safety, I’ll make sure your friend is safe. I promise.” He reassured the scared woman before walking past her to her apartment.

He opened the door and began to look around, he went down the narrow hallway to what he assumes is the bedrooms. He looks at the photos on the wall of your roommate and you traveling. His eyes linger on a beach photo of the two of you before turning his head forward and seeing your locked door.

He knocks, just to make sure you aren’t awake and near the door. No answer. He reaches for his crowbar and easily pops the locked door open. He walks in to see your dark room illuminated by the right red and white light of the fire trucks outside your window.

He walks up to your bed side and notices the blankets kicked off of you, and you're naked. His eyes drift to your breasts pooling on your chest as you rest on your back and the small mound between your legs. He lets out a deep breath before nudging you lightly.

“Miss, there is a fire.” He says in a calm voice, but you don’t budge.

He nudges you again, your breasts jiggling as he does as it’s all he can focus on. Your breasts are simply perfect, your nipples hard from the cold air circulating in the room. So many thoughts rush through his mind as he looks down at your stunning body. He shouldn’t have these thoughts; he shouldn’t even still be standing here just looking at you. He should wrap you up in a blanket and move you down stairs until the fire is extinguished. Yet, he lingers over you. Just watching as his erection grows.

Reaching out to nudge you again, you don’t respond. König looks around the room, noticing it’s slightly messy with clothes and books. A laptop on your desk with college textbooks stacked neatly next to it. Stepping out of the bedroom he looks around and sees no one else has entered the apartment since he came in to find you. Good.

“Miss?” He pulls his gloves off and reaches out to nudge you again, this time slightly rougher. Still no response.

His hand trails up your arm, feeling how soft your skin is against his. A voice in his head yelling at him that he isn’t supposed to be touching you. He’s here to help, but he just can’t resist. His hand travels to your shoulder before drifting across your collarbone. Slowly his hand drifts lower…

Fingers gently gliding around your breast until he reaches your nipple. He glides the back of his fingers over them and circling your breast before moving back up and twisting your nipple between his two fingers gently. He looks at your face to see if you’re responding to this, but you aren’t. You’re still asleep.

He opens his hand to cup your breast and gently squeezes it. So, so soft. Perfect. Lifting off his helmet, he lowers his head and flicks his tongue over your nipple. Grabbing it between both of his lips and sucking gently. Moving his head to your other breast and doing the same. His hand begins to wander down your stomach to the soft patch of hair between your legs. His fingers softly petting you before moving lower.

Feeling your little clit, moving his finger in small circles over it before moving his fingers between your folds until you started to get wet. His eyes are still on your face making sure that you don’t wake up. Still asleep. Jesus this woman’s a heavy sleeper…

His fingers now covered in your wet, he brings them up to his nose to smell before licking his fingers. You taste so sweet, smell so incredible. What he wouldn’t do to nuzzle his face between your thighs and tongue fuck you with his fat and long tongue, but he can’t.

Reaching into his pocket under his coat, he pulls out his cellphone. He takes a few photos of your breast, of your pussy, your full body, and your sleeping drooling face. He wishes so much he could have more.

Putting his phone away, he puts back on his helmet and gloves. He covers you with the blanket and speaks very loudly now.

“Miss. I’m a fireman, there is a fire.” He begins to lift your body as he wraps you in the blanket to be able to carry you since you’re still asleep.

He begins to walk out of the bedroom door with you as you slowly begin to wake up. You look up confused before seeing the fireman helmet of the person holding you, his eyes meet yours.

“I’m sorry but you wouldn’t wake up and there is a fire in the building. Nothing major, but we need the building to be clear just in case.”

“I understand.” You say feeling groggy, you had drank sleepy time tea shortly before this happened so your body is still exhausted.

König carries you down the four flights of stairs to get you down and outside. He walks you to the firetruck and lets you sit; the door opens and you’re sitting sideways, your legs dangling. König stands next to you.

“Are you okay, miss?” He asks because of how out of it you still seem.

“I’m okay, just very tired. Thank you for carrying me… and for letting me sit here.”

“Of course, anything to help.” He smiles at you.

[unluckilyimnot]

JEALOUS SAE HEADCANONS PLEASEEEEE

Jealous hc

Characters: sae, rin, kaiser, hiori, karasu, shidou

m.list | rules

Note: hiiii how are youuu thank you for your request hihi I had other characters bc I felt like doing it for them too

Sae Itoshi

he’s too prideful to be jealous, or he thinks so

in fact he get pissed off easily, anyone being a little to friendly with you bother him and he already doesn’t like anyone so imagine

he’s not subtile, even if he thinks he is

he’ll get closer, talk like shit to the person who’s flirting with you in his eyes

roll his eyes, click his tongue, you name it

Suddenly he wants to go home or leave for another place

You never honestly never thought you'll see him like that since he's confident and trusts you

I think he just doesn't like people and so by extension he hates people talking to you

He likes to think he's the only one who can make you smile like that, beside your friends (he's not insane)

So seeing some nobody making you smile, or even worst : laugh makes him jealous

He’s not into pda to save his life i think, that’s something he keeps behind closed doors

But oh man how he likes to kiss you when it happens, just to remind everyone that you're taken and you're proud of it

Be prepared to hear about this, he’s a nagging mom at heart

“Are you done ?” you’d ask and magically, yes he is

he will sulk yes, but close to you at least

Rin Itoshi

Bare with him, he acts tough but deep down he wants to cry

Just like his brother, he will get closer, his arm will probably stay around your shoulders after that

But he won’t be mean to them, just kinda ignore them or send death glare if they get too close

No touching, even in a friendly way, don’t be ridiculous

I think he appreciates it if you put a stop yourself

He’s more insecure than he likes to admit and it prove him that he can trust you

He’s gonna be clingy af though

When you two are finally alone, Rin won’t say a world but glue himself to you

He’ll need reassurance for sure :( this boy has abandon issues

Michael Kaiser

He’s an asshole (lovingly)

He let people flirt with you if it helps their ego and mock them for how long you can think, it’s almost an inside joke for him

The irony is that he’s really possessive, so it’s all fun and game until it’s not some loser that try to hit on you

Not that he feels threaten, please

But he still don’t wanna play with them and he doesn’t want you nearby

If you just happen to be friendly with someone then he’s bothered

What do you mean by being this happy to see someone else ?

He’ll ask a million questions and whine about it before brush it off as if he doesn’t care

It takes a lot to deal with him, his reaction depend on his phase

If he feels low then he’ll be a nightmare, you had to be sorry for someone hitting on you and tell him he’s your one and only

If he’s his confident self, it’s almost like he doesn’t care and let it happen

Being with him is a roller coaster

Tabito Karasu

Best man if is speak

He’s mature and he knows he’s projecting his own insecurity when he’s jealous, so he doesn’t make a big deal about it

He’s not gonna ruin the moment so he just keep his cool and act normally

Deep down you can feel there’s some awkwardness so you try to ask him silently, with your eyes or smile, if he’s ok

He loves you so much he feels dumb to even be jealous the second you do that honestly

Expect small pda like holding hands above your knees, playing with your fingers or the em of your shirt/ skirt

He’ll talk to you about it on your way back home or when you two are comfortable at yours or his place

He knows it’s normal to feel like this sometimes but it’s normal to reach for comfort right ? he’s not shy to ask

Nothings best than you playing with his hair, laying on your chest or thighs

Ryusei Shidou

He’s unhinged he scares me

I think he’s the most jealous among them

You’re his, that’s it so, he may seem lay back (and weird) but he’s cautious with every person coming near you

I hc him with abandon issues as well (give us his back story please and make it worth it compare to some character) so he’s always scared of you leaving

It’s still more in a possessive than an insecure way, he just can’t take it if he considered that someone is too close to you

He gets touchy oh my, he’s all over you, can’t keep his hands to himself just to let them know that you’re taken

He’ll talk to them straight in the eyes while his hand run up and down your thighs, he’s not ashamed of anything

You have to put a stop to it but always expected something more while coming home

Yo Hiori

He’s cute and I don’t think people take him seriously enough

You’re amazing and beautiful and fun to talk to, people already asked you why him

He kinda has war flashback ngl

Obviously he also think that he’s not enough and probably get jealous/sad quickly if someone get close to you and is really friendly

He’s scared to take things into hand I think, so he’ll just ask for you two to leave

He won’t tell you how he feels, he’s sure it’s not important enough to bring it up but you always ask him anyway

You’re so sorry that it happens at all honestly, you never want him to feel like this

He never ask for it but you’re clingy and want to do nothing with him, spending some quality time together, watching him play game while you stay on your phone or even sitting in his laps

It always make him feel better and remind him that you won’t leave him so soon

I hope you liked it ♡