#but for now --even now-- most of what I feel is relief and determination and focus. I've found peace and I'm digging my heels in.

[joelsgoldrush]

➽ summary: To love is to cherish, to endure, to fight. But to love is also to forget—at least, for you and Logan. Despite countless attempts to erase the part of yourselves that yearns to find completion in each other, you always end up back where it all began: the moment your eyes first met his—the moment everything changed.

➽ word count: 12.4k words

➽ warnings/tags: mdni smut 18+ angst. fluff. feels. enemies to lovers. petnames. multiple focalizors/POVs. memory loss. x1 logan. mutant!reader. flashbacks. dirty talk. oral (f and m receiving). fingering. thigh riding. unprotected p in v. missionary. doggy. creampie. cum swallowing.

➽ a/n: inspired by “eternal sunshine of the spotless mind”, one of the most hauntingly beautiful (and life-changing) films ever made. i took some creative liberties when it came to charles' powers, so just follow along. i’d love to know your thoughts on this one, hope you like it as much as i do! <3

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot! The world forgetting by the world forgot. Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind. Each prayer accepted and each wish resigned.

Alexander Pope.

Logan thinks Jean is speaking to him, but her words dissolve into fragments, lost before they reach him. Her reddish lips shape the vowels and consonants with precision, yet the meaning is drowned out by the pulse in his ears. She’s agitated, her long strides barely matching his pace, heels striking the wooden floor in a staccato rhythm.

A few children peek their heads out from their rooms, curiosity tugging at their expressions as the tension unravels in the hallway. Had it always stretched this far into eternity? It feels as though he’s been walking it for centuries now.

If Jean Grey is the embodiment of grace and intellect, then Logan carries the weight of all the world’s stubbornness. It clings to him like a birthright. Defying her beliefs—or anyone’s—is as instinctual as breathing. She’s trying to dissuade him, to talk him out of this reckless act: asking Charles to meddle in what she’s called his personal issues. He suppresses the urge to roll his eyes, focusing instead on the steady cadence of his steps toward the man’s office, each one heavier with purpose.

Jean’s voice grows sharper, her warnings echoing in his mind. This is a mistake. You’ll regret it. You’ll want to undo it. Don’t be stupid, Logan. Don’t do this to her—don’t do this to yourself.

But her protests are futile. The cards have already been laid out. Only meters from the door, he comes to a sudden halt. Jean, caught mid-stride, almost stumbles into his back. For a fleeting moment, hope flickers across her face. Maybe, just maybe, she’s convinced him to reconsider. A tentative smile begins to form on her lips, until he turns to her with a look so unyielding, it steals the breath from her lungs.

She has never seen him like this. This resolute, this… haunted. His jaw is clenched, his brow furrowed so tightly it seems etched in stone. There’s no trace of relief or satisfaction in his expression. Only the grim determination of a man about to pass a point of no return.

Why is he doing this? Soon, there will be hands prying into his thoughts, a marauder pulling apart his memories. Think about her. Now think about this moment. What do you remember? Each memory bearing your name, inked into his unconscious, will be inspected, cataloged, and then erased.

A mind already scarred will be stripped even further, the void swallowing everything. It has to come from a place of self-loathing, he thinks, because no reasonable explanation suffices. Perhaps he’s always been this broken, this damaged, and it was only a matter of time before he sought refuge in the very solution that had once been his calvary.

“I’ve made my choice,” he says with a tilt of his head which aims to deliver a tacit message: stay back. Don’t follow me. I have to do this. I need to.

So this is what it feels like, he thinks to himself, to willingly want to forget, to crave oblivion. To stop caring.

His fist hovers over the door, but he doesn’t have to knock. Charles’s been waiting for him. His voice resonates behind Logan’s eyelids, calm and inescapable. Come in.

“Coward.”

That’s the last thing he hears before he steps into the office, leaving her behind.

The first time you saw him, he was a contained storm, seconds away from coming undone in front of a rather small audience. Hardly the most convenient introduction.

You were in Charles’ office, attending one of his Physics lessons—not because you needed to. He’d already taught you these principles long ago, in a different time, under different circumstances. But lately, Charles had been trying to delegate some of his responsibilities, hoping to carve out time for the pressing matters that demanded his full attention. Ever the sweetheart, you’d offered to help, stepping in to take over this class.

Which is why you spent those past few weeks studying him—not just his teaching style, but the way he presented the topics: the analogies he drew, the subtle inflections in his tone. You’d promised yourself perfection, committed to live up to his standard, and that was exactly what you were working toward.

The sound of a door slamming shattered the flow of the lesson. A man burst into the room as though escaping from some unseen predator, shutting the door with a loud, final thud. He didn’t turn to face you. Instead, he lingered by the door, chest pressed against it, his ragged breathing filling the silence. The students abandoned whatever fragments of attention they had left for the class—this new stranger was far more compelling.

And, truthfully, he’d caught your attention, too.

You hesitated, fists clenching slightly at your sides, bracing for something you couldn’t name. A familiar voice cut through your thoughts, grounding you: This is the man I’ve been telling you about.

Apparently, this was Logan Howlett in the flesh. You certainly didn’t expect Charles’ newest recruit to look like this. 

“Good morning, Logan,” Charles greeted him when the man finally spun around. From this distance, you could see the tension carved into his features, the crease in his forehead betraying his distress. Charles, still composed, redirected his focus to the students. “I’d like your definitions of weak and strong anthropic principles on my desk on Wednesday, all right? That’ll be all.”

They didn’t need to be told twice, gathering their belongings in a flurry of notebooks and murmured goodbyes, barely sparing you a glance as they shuffled out. You offered them a tight-lipped smile, lifting a hand in acknowledgment, but your attention was drawn elsewhere. Logan was looking at you—or rather, through you—with a gaze that felt assessing. You never quite met his eye.

He stood there barefoot, dressed only in a sweater and sweatpants, his breath still uneven. Disoriented. His eyes swept across the room, his expression distant yet guarded, as though he was questioning the reality of it all. Considering the way he carried himself, it almost seemed like this was his first encounter with other mutants—but you knew better.

At some point, Charles decided to break the tension. “I’m Charles Xavier,” he began, his tone inviting. “Would you like some breakfast?”

But, of course, his cordiality and kindness were dismissed, being met with a gruff, “Where am I?”

“Westchester, New York,” Charles replied evenly, maneuvering his wheelchair closer. “You were attacked. My people brought you here for medical attention.”

You hadn’t been part of the mission that led to this moment; that had been Scott and Storm. In fact, you hadn’t even met Logan or the girl they’d brought with him—Rogue, as you later learned. Although at the time, rooted in the aftermath, you stepped forward, bridging the distance between yourself and Logan. You extended a hand toward him, offering your name with a cautious smile. “Nice to meet you.”

The gesture lingered awkwardly in the air, refusing even the pretense of acknowledgment. His eyes locked on yours, piercing and unrelenting, and for a brief moment, you wondered if this was his way of dissecting you. Then his gaze shifted back to Charles, impatience dripping from every word he uttered. “I don’t need medical attention. Where’s the girl?”

Oh. So that’s how he wants to play this. You withdrew your hand, doing your best to mask the sting of rejection as you pivoted on your heels and returned to your place beside Charles. “Jerk,” you muttered, low enough that it almost drowned beneath your breath, fussing with your sleeves in a vain effort to seem unaffected.

He didn’t miss it. His expression hardened, irritation flickering in his eyes. “Come again?”

To end the exchange right there, Charles cleared his throat, effectively steering the conversation into a different direction. Seizing the opportunity, he wheeled himself closer to the brown-haired man, his composure intact. What you admired about him was his self-control, something you’d tried to master in the years spent under his guidance without success. Yet, you couldn’t fathom how he managed not to tell Logan to just fuck off. “About Rogue, she’s doing fine.”

Logan arched a brow, his sneer cutting through the air like a blade. “Really?” You couldn’t grasp how he could hold so much bitterness toward a person he barely knew. His voice was thick with condescension, and a dozen sharp retorts swirled in your mind, each one eager to escape your lips. Your mouth parted to respond on Charles’ behalf, but he beat you to it.

“You’re in my school for the gifted. For mutants.” He paused, letting the weight of his words settle in the dense air. Even the act of breathing felt strained, a soundless tug-of-war for the air around you. “You do know you’re not the only one with gifts, don’t you?”

“Is that what you tell those kids?” Logan’s scoff was a window into his beliefs. “That they have gifts?” 

“It’s no more than the truth.”

“Yeah? Truth my ass.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” The words escaped you before you could stop them, fury flaring in your chest. You stepped forward, the crackling heat of frustration coursing through your veins, ending in your fingertips. His blank stare only fanned the flames. “We took you in. We saved your life. How about showing a little fucking gratitude?”

Logan advanced, and his eyes bored into yours with a stinging glint of smugness. “I don’t remember asking to be saved.”

Your jaw tightened. You could’ve cracked a tooth as well. “Well, the least you can do is not act like a complete prick.”

A hand encircled your wrist, its grip firm but soothing. Charles’ touch anchored you, grounding you back in the moment. Your breath faltered, tearing your gaze away from Logan’s eyes to meet Charles’ calm expression.

“Don’t be so hard on our guest, my dear,” he murmured, as if the hostility in the room didn’t exist. It could’ve also been that he was too practiced at disarming it. He didn’t bother to glance at Logan, speaking as though the man was just a shadow. “Give him some time. He needs it.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you bowed your head. You sidestepped Logan without another word, avoiding his presence like he was a flame that threatened to scorch. The tension clung to your skin, and you flung the room.

From that day on, Logan becomes the only subject you seem capable of discussing.

It’s everything about him—his walk, his voice, the sheer audacity of his existence—that drives you to the brink of madness. You tell yourself to let it go, to not let it eat away at you, but your mind refuses to cooperate. Each day, it does a stellar job of reminding you that you now share the same roof as a man with forks for hands.

Logan is, undeniably, the source of your every frustration.

“He’s an idiot,” you grumble around a bite of your lunch, settling into one of the chairs in the kitchen. Scott, Ororo, and Jean are gathered around the table with you, savoring a rare break before the afternoon classes pull them back into their routines. “I can confirm it.”

“Trust me, we know,” Ororo snaps, her tone more cutting than you expected. The words catch you off guard, and you pause, napkin halfway to your lips, to lift your eyebrows in surprise. “Look, I’m sorry,” she continues, her voice softening just a fraction, “but could you please talk about something else? It’s been Logan this, Logan that, for weeks now.”

“I think I understand what she means,” Scott chimes in, his tone lighter, nearly playful. You lift your hand for a high five, and he obliges with a grin, stealing a laugh from you.

“See? He gets it!”

Leaning back in his chair, your friend shakes his head. “I must admit I don't like the guy either. He’s—”

Jean’s elbow shoots out, jabbing Scott in the ribs just as Logan crosses the kitchen threshold. Scott’s indignant “Hey!” is muffled by your exaggerated cough, though it does little to mask the smirk threatening to break across your face.

How does the saying go? Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

Logan’s eyes sweep across the room, his silence louder than the faint hum of the refrigerator. He strides toward the cupboard with methodical ease, and Storm bites her lip to stifle a laugh once she catches you watching him far longer than you should have. His back muscles tense and flex as he stretches his arms, the white tank clinging tighter with every movement.

“Please, don’t stop talking just because of me,” he remarks, his voice gravelly as he rummages through the cupboard, his focus presumably on some elusive snack. “Pretend I’m not even here.”

Your response comes out of instinct, words laced with irritation. “It’s hard not to,” you retort curtly, putting down your sandwich with a firm slap of your palms against your jeans.

That gets his attention. Logan turns around to confront you, a flicker of amusement twitching at the edges of his mouth. It’s that toothy smile of his that sets your blood simmering. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?”

You jump to your feet, matching his intensity. “Such a pity I can’t say the same about you.” Without missing a beat, you step closer, snatching the bag of chips he’s holding. Hiding them behind your back, tilting your head in mock innocence, and then saying, “Oops.”

His brows draw upward, though his tone stays measured, as if speaking to a child. “C’mon,” he replies, making a half-hearted grab for the bag. “How old are you? Twelve?”

Unable to suppress the grin threatening to break free, you rest your back against the counter. “We both know you can do much better than that.”

Already preparing yourself for the lecture Ororo’s going to unload on you the moment he leaves, you watch as Logan exhales sharply. His irritation is palpable in the way he leans in, one hand planting itself on the counter behind you, his frame eclipsing yours. The proximity is electric, his scent, a mix of leather and something woodsy, fogging your senses. Hazel eyes, so deep you could drown in them, peer down at you, as he attempts to strip away every layer you’re desperately trying to hold together.

Safe to say, it’s working. Damn it. 

“Alright,” he finally says, tapping his fingers against the cool surface. “What do you want from me?”

Your galloping heartbeat is a major detail you choose to ignore, instead turning to the others for support. With an exaggerated motion, you point to each of your friends in turn. “Ororo and Scott were the ones who found you that day,” you start, trailing off, “and Jean ran a ton of tests on you to make sure you were okay. Have you even bothered to thank them for their hospitality?”

You believe you can joke with him—it’s how you usually bond with others, how most of your friendships have started. But you can’t help questioning if Logan can even get your sense of humor. The room falls silent, and his eyes flicker, just briefly, to your friends. 

“You’re right, you’re right. My bad, princess.” One of his big, manly lands on your shoulder, the pressure of it too casual, too familiar, working the muscle there. Your fingers slacken around the bag of chips, the feeling of his touch making it harder to maintain your grip. “Guys, I’m deeply sorry for my lack of amiability. Hope you can forgive me.” The sarcasm is thick in his voice, but it’s the sensation that clings to you, that doesn’t seem to fade—the warmth of it seeping through the layers of your clothes, pressing into your skin, stubbornly refusing to fade.

His hand leaves only when he yanks the bag from your grasp, and the warmth that had been just beside you evaporates with his retreat. In an instant, he’s already pulling away, his parting words a careless “See you around,” tossed over his shoulder.

No one dares to speak after that. Because to speak would be to acknowledge what has just happened. Your stomach has turned into a knot, that kind of knot sailors make that are impossible for beginners to undo. Logan’s fingers left a burn in your shoulder. Can you still smell him, the trail he left? Scott is the first to speak after a minute or so. “What… was that?”

“I have no clue,” Jean says between bites, staring reflectively at you. “Care to elaborate?”

Your tongue feels heavy, your throat parched. Even if you tried, a rational explanation wouldn’t come.

Ever since you were a child, you had yearned to grow up, to experience love as only adults could. In your young, unformed mind, it all seemed like a simple equation: adults dated; adults embraced love in the flesh; adults reveled in freedoms that children could only dream of, waiting patiently for their time to come.

And you did grow up. You did fall in love. But now he’s forgotten you, and nothing could have prepared you for that kind of ending. It wasn’t the closure you would have chosen, not the goodbye you imagined for you and Logan.

You find yourself caught in the in-between—not quite a child, yet not fully an adult either. Because surely, an adult would know how to handle this pain. An adult would find a way to cope. But you feel small. Weak. Hopeless.

It leaves you wondering just how much you are willing to forsake.

More weeks go by, and Logan remains in the mansion, defying the departure you’d expected. Part of you is relieved. He moves through the halls like a shadow, his eyes always on Rogue: checking on her, observing her interactions with the rest of the students at the mansion. She’s thriving, really. Blending in with her peers, forming bonds, especially with a boy named Billy. They are quite the pair.

Yet, despite Rogue’s happiness, Logan can’t seem to shake the grim air that surrounds him, an aura that emanates a quiet kind of disgust.

One night, you’re flipping through channels in the living room, stopping when an old love movie catches your attention. You place the remote down on a cushion, and pull your knees up to your chest, the murmur of the characters’ voices the only sound in the otherwise hushed room. You don’t think anyone else is awake at this hour.

 “Can’t sleep?”

There he is again. Always intruding, always finding his way back to you. The predator creeping into the vixen’s nest. He moves closer, slowly, and you lift your gaze to him, replying, “Actually, I’m a sleepwalker.”

Your comment earns a half-smile from Logan as he drops onto the couch beside you, his leg brushing against yours momentarily, worn denim against bare skin. His attention shifts to the TV, to the grainy images of the film playing out. You steal a glance at him, tracing the hard lines of his side profile.

“Feelin’ romantic tonight?” he asks.

“Not precisely,” you retort, fingers toying with the frayed edges of the blanket pooled at your feet. “There’s nothing else on. Sometimes you have to make do with what’s there.” Your gaze drifts back to him, lingering just a second too long before you add, “What about you? Any ghosts keeping you up?”

“You could call them that,” he says after a pause, his face still angled away. It must be easier to speak to you with this thin, invisible wall between you. “I have nightmares.”

“So you’re the one screaming at two in the morning?”

“Exactly. That’s me.” He ends up meeting your gaze, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly, harboring an emotion he doesn’t voice. “M’sorry if I ever woke you up.”

“I’m usually awake at that time, too.” Your eyes flick to the screen. The couple in the movie bursts out of a building into the rain, their body language unmistakably revealing the heated argument unfolding between them. The man, clad in a raincoat, removes it to cover the woman, his supposed girlfriend. She’s visibly upset, but accepts the gesture nevertheless. “You can always knock on my door if you need anything. Unless I’m snoring—then I’ll be useless.”

Logan clicks his tongue, his focus shifting to the film as well. The man shouts, ‘Because I love you, for God’s sake!’ He casts a glimpse in your direction, his expression unreadable. “Same goes for you.” The woman in the film responds with a strangled, ‘Then prove it!’

“Anytime?”

“Anytime.”

The man cradles the woman’s face before kissing her. She throws her arms around his neck, and the music swells, evolving into a much more melodic song. A chorus of angelic voices replaces the earlier tense harmony. The camera lingers on every angle of their kiss, every desperate touch, as the world outside their embrace ceases to exist.

“This is cheesy,” Logan mutters, his heel bumping against the floor in repeated, short motions. Is he nervous?

“Yeah, so cheesy,” you reply quickly, pulling the blanket over your lap and curling into yourself. He doesn’t look like he’s thinking about kissing you, not even remotely, but you are.

A quiet yawn escapes you, and you rub your fist against your eyes, sleep beginning to take over your body. Logan catches it, his own yawn following like a reflex. “Looks like the movie’s workin’ wonders,” he quips.

You let out a drowsy giggle. “Shut up,” you murmur, but then he’s inching closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. His warmth seeps through, and after a few seconds of hesitation, you allow yourself to lean into his frame, resting your head on his arm. It’s awkward, your neck already protesting the angle, but you accept it. You’ll take the stiffness tomorrow without complaint, because this moment is worth it.

It won’t last long, though, this rare tenderness. These nights, the quiet ones, are when Logan opens up the most—when Jean and Storm aren’t around, when it’s just the two of you. That’s when he approaches you, like a wary black cat testing the waters. But he doesn’t need to tread carefully. Not with you.

“What if I were to fall asleep… hypothetically?” Your eyelids grow heavier with each blink, the pauses between each one stretching longer. Your cheek nuzzles against him, seeking warmth, and you feel the subtle tug of his hand as he pulls the blanket over his legs as well.

“Hypothetically,” he begins, rasping his words near your temple, “I wouldn’t mind.”

Within moments, sleep claims you. You never find out what happens after that, but he stays, trailing quietly behind. No nightmares or shadows from his past dare to haunt him that night.

It was inevitable that an encounter like that would spiral into something more. You weren’t naïve. You could connect the dots, and the picture was clear: Logan wanted you, too. Desire often walked a fine line, and from hatred to something else, it’s hardly a leap—just a small, barely perceptible step. It could change with the shift of light, from dawn to dusk. But you’d need the strength to cross that line, to be bold enough to make the first move.

And now, with the sun already dipped below the horizon, taking its long-awaited rest after a full day of burning up in the sky, you find yourself alone in the kitchen, though you hadn’t started that way. Scott had lingered for a while, insisting he didn’t mind keeping you company. You’d thanked him with a polite smile before subtly nudging him out. It hadn’t taken much—just a few hints. Simplicity at its finest.

At the table, a neat pile of student papers spreads before you. Your pen dances across the pages, leaving corrections and grades in its wake. It’s then that he appears. He doesn’t speak at first, but his presence saturates the room like a shadow stretching across the floor. You don’t need to turn around to know it’s him; it must be the unspoken familiarity of how he fills a space. Or maybe it’s just how attuned you’ve become to his every movement.

Logan leans in behind you, close enough that you feel the heat he radiates at your back. His low hum sends a shiver down your spine as he peers over your shoulder. “Don’t you think it’s a bit late to be playin’ the teacher?”

Your grip on the pen tightens, a small tremor in your fingers giving away the tension pooling in your stomach. You exhale softly, blowing on the fresh ink. “Would you prefer to have me doing something else?”

Smugness prickles at the edges of your words, but the resolve in your chest is faltering.

“Now that you mention it…” His voice dips, grating next to the shell of your ear as his chest brushes your back. His presence is magnetic, the scrape of his beard scratching your skin while he tilts your head to one side. His fingers sweep your hair over your shoulder, lips mapping the nape of your neck, tasting your fevered skin. “I might have a few ideas in mind.”

Your breath hitches. You try for composure, but it wavers in your reply. “Really?” you ask, because playing dumb always has its merits, after all. “Want to show me?”

He doesn’t answer right away. His hand moves deliberately, tracing a sensual, teasing path up your abdomen. His palm settles over one of your breasts, his thumb brushing the sensitive peak through your sweater. “I don’t think you’d want me to do it here,” he says, his voice thick with suggestion. “Too public for what I’ve got planned for you.”

You disentangle yourself from him, slipping off the chair with an unsteady grace, but Logan doesn’t give you time to find your feet. He smashes his lips with yours, the force of his kiss almost sending you reeling. His tongue presses insistently, seeking entry, as if the urgency in his touch could dissolve every barrier between you. He grabs your cheeks, holding you in place as though you might slip away, drawing you so close there’s barely space to breathe.

You’re caught off guard, not knowing where to put your hands, searching for purchase. The cold metal of the refrigerator handle digs into your lower back as he backs you against it, his groans reverberating through your mouth like a growled confession.

“My bedroom,” you manage to gasp between kisses. “Take me to my bedroom.”

Logan obliges, intertwining his fingers with yours. Together, you ascend the stairs, your laughter mingling in the noiseless night when he missteps and stumbles, momentarily breaking the spell. But he recovers quickly, finding your room in mere seconds. 

The door clicks shut behind you, and he presses you against the wood with a force you’d never experienced, his hands sliding down to grip your ass and knead the supple flesh with a possessive fervor. It all helps to feed the fire pooling in your core.

“Quiet, baby,” he whispers, slipping his fingers beneath the back of your sweatpants. His nails trace fiery lines along your skin, igniting your every nerve. “Don’t want anyone wakin’ up to those pretty sounds you make. They’re just for me, right?”

You nod frantically, longing for more, arching into his hands as your hips grind against his, your body moving with a will of its own. The friction is exquisite, a tantalizing promise. “Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters, his words laced with unfiltered hunger. “I’ve thought about havin’ you like this ever since I met you.”

His confession sends a surge of pride through your chest, an ache that feels equal parts affection and astonishment. Ever since the beginning? When he could barely look at you without scowling, his disdain practically tangible? “You hid it well,” you reply, breathless as you trace the outline of his erection over his jeans. The way it twitches under your undivided attention makes your pulse race. “I thought you hated me.”

He lets out a huff of laughter. “I thought the same about you,” he counters, before crushing his lips to yours once more. This time, you can’t help but smile into the kiss, your bodies moving as one, the pent-up tension between you unraveling in waves. “Guess we were both wrong.”

Your pants hit the floor in an unceremonious heap. It should embarrass you, how desperate and utterly needy you sound, the pleas spilling from your lips like the filthiest confessions. But the hunger in you is too vast, too insistent, drowning any possible flicker of shame. Decency was abandoned the moment you crossed that threshold. Logan nudges your legs apart with his knee, and the instant you feel him against your center, a contained sigh escapes you, half-resignation, half-surrender. Thought dissolves, leaving only instinct as you rock against him in slow circles, seeking relief.

“When was the last time someone took care of you?” He toys lazily with the waistband of your panties, like he has all the time in the world. You don’t give him an immediate answer, choosing instead to grind harder against his thigh, your breath hitching at the pressure. “Don’t go all shy on me now, sweetheart,” he says, dipping his head to mouth at your collarbone, the scent of his cologne heady and intoxicating. “Judging by the way you’re basically humpin’ me, I’d say it’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“I don’t remember,” you blurt out, your head thudding against the door when his teeth nip at the delicate curve of your neck. Your pulse thrums beneath his lips, and you’re seconds from biting your tongue just to keep from crying out. “Stop teasing.”

Logan’s lips quirk up into a wicked smile against your skin, his knee retreating only to be replaced by his fingers, trailing them along the fabric covering your heat. “I like it when you get bossy. It reminds me why I like you so damn much.” He tugs the fabric of your underwear aside, the cool air hitting your wetness for only a moment before his fingers glide over your arousal, testing your patience. One digit slides into you, curling slightly as his palm presses over your mouth, muffling the whine that falls from your parted lips. “So wet for me, princess.”

Your legs shake under the weight of sensation, threatening to give out as you lean into the door for balance. His fingers move inside you with a sharp rhythm, hitting that spot with each furious thrust. The pressure builds, hot and insistent, and it’s overwhelming, but then he drops to his knees, and the sight alone sends a jolt through your core.

The first drag of his tongue along your folds is molten. He laps at you with long strokes, his pace never faltering, pumping his digits in sync with the flick of his tongue, coaxing every sound you’ve tried so hard to stifle. “Oh, fuck. Logan—” 

He groans against your core, his eyes remaining locked on your face, soaking in every flicker of pleasure that crosses your features. His focus is relentless, as though your reactions fuel him. You rake your hands through his hair, clutching at his dark locks with haste whenever his wet muscle lavishes extra attention on your clit, the intensity of his ministrations making your voice break, a choked gasp dying on your lips.

Your climax teeters on the edge, faster than you anticipated. “Close,” you manage to huff, the obscene noises he elicits driving you wild. “I’m gonna come. Please, come here—”

Logan detaches himself from you, standing tall with a fierce determination in his eyes. He’s set on pushing you over the edge with his fingers alone. His lips crash against yours, biting and licking, swallowing every desperate mewl that falls from your mouth, spit glistening down his chin. Three knuckles deep, coaxing your body to respond, your walls tighten around him, shuddering as he corners you against the door, the sharp edge of pleasure sending your knees buckling. Your orgasm washes over you, rendering you boneless in his hold. Limp and spent, you can barely return his kisses, panting harshly against his mouth, his arms the only thing keeping you from collapsing.

As you steady your breath, a satisfied smile tugs at your lips. Your eyes flicker down to his slick palm, and a rush of pride floods you. "That was amazing," you breathe, your fingers, trembling slightly with anticipation, reaching for his belt to tug at it. “My turn now.”

He ends up with his back pressed against the headboard, his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. You’re positioned between his legs, stimulating him over the fabric of his boxers. “It won’t take too long,” he says, and you feel the weight of his words more than hear them as you pull him free, revealing the hardness beneath. He’s already swollen, the tip wet with precum that coats your thumb as you stroke him once, feeling the heat pulse beneath your touch. A shiver runs through him, his legs stiffening as though on the edge of restraint. Bewitched by the size of him, you lean forward to slip the leaking head past your lips. “Jesus Christ.”

It’s difficult to take all of him at once, but you push through, your mouth stretching to accommodate his size. As you work him with your hand, your tongue traces the veins that snake along his length, feeling him throb. Logan’s body betrays him, his fists tightening around the sheets as if holding on to his last thread of control, desperately keeping his hips still, resisting the urge to fuck up into you.

“Honey, pull out,” he warns, stroking your back. “M’not jokin’. You’re gonna make me come.” But you don’t stop. Instead, you deepen your movements, cheeks hollowing as you take him with more enthusiasm, pushing him toward the back of your throat. When he realizes what you’re doing, a moan escapes him, laced with a dark laugh. “Filthy girl. So that’s what you want? To choke on my cum? Should’ve asked for it sooner.”

Not long afterwards, you feel the first splash of his release hitting your tastebuds. Ropes of his seed flood your mouth, some of it dribbling out to stain the corner of your lips. He watches, his thumb gently swiping over the edge, collecting what’s spilled, his eyes never leaving yours as he moves.

“Show me,” he asks, still breathless. You lean closer, your faces a whisper apart, and then you part your lips, revealing the evidence of your devotion like a masterpiece on display. His fingers find your chin, holding you there as he bites into his lower lip, the pressure turning the skin pale. “Now swallow,” he commands, and you obey, the motion deliberate, your satisfaction mirrored in the curve of his grin. He kisses you languidly, as if savoring the moment. “Where have you been all my life?”

The question invites countless answers, but you choose to murmur, “Down the hallway.”

“Logan, are you even listening?”

Charles’ voice slices through the playful moment, forcing Logan’s hands to still against your sides. The team sits around the table, embroiled in serious discussions that demand focus and discipline. Yet Logan’s fixation on you has rendered him deaf to anything beyond the sound of your laughter. Not a single word of the last hour and a half has stuck, his mind entirely preoccupied by the warmth of you perched on his lap.

He’d insisted he was much more comfortable than any chair, and you’d indulged him, leaning into his chest as his fingers danced teasingly along your ribs. “Of course I am,” Logan drawls, though the way his hand resumes tracing lazy circles on your stomach says otherwise, his entire attention remaining fixed on you.

“I don’t think you are,” Charles counters, leaning forward with both palms flat on his desk. His sharp gaze locks to you, narrowing faintly. “Do I need to seat you two on opposite ends of the room, or can you manage to behave?”

You stiffen in response, the easy comfort of moments ago evaporating. Sliding off Logan’s lap, you settle into the nearest chair, your departure catching him off guard. Your eyes meet his subtly, and you offer him an apologetic smile. Beneath the table, your fingers squeeze his knee, a silent reassurance. Finally, you direct your attention to Charles, straightening in your seat as if to demonstrate your newfound focus.

Logan, however, is less cooperative. His arms cross over his chest, and a crease forms between his brows, the picture of rebellion. Nothing that Charles says registers in his brain. All he can think about is how much better it felt to have you on his lap, where you weren’t bothering anyone. He contents himself with watching you now, contemplating your profile and the way your fingers absentmindedly tap against your notebook.

He sighs, leaning back in his chair. It’s not the same. You’ve been dating for a month, much to the surprise of everyone in the mansion. It’s as if the idea of the two of you together had never even crossed their minds. Not even Rogue believed it when she came to ask Logan if the rumors were true. He hadn’t known how to respond to her, caught between mirth and disbelief himself.

It’s been decades since he’s felt this alive. He’s head over heels for you in a way that’s exhilarating. Seeing you, even across a crowded room, lights a fire in him, and he has to actively fight the urge to walk over, pull you close, and kiss you senseless right there in front of your friends.

As the meeting finally draws to a close, Charles asks him to stay for a while. “I just need to have a quick word with you,” he says, waiting until the others leave.

Once you’re out of earshot, Charles sighs, shaking his head like an exhausted parent addressing his wayward child. “Look, I’m glad you two worked through your differences,” he begins, a note of cautious joviality in his tone, “but this... well, this is the opposite of that.”

Logan exhales wearily, rolling his eyes before he can stop himself, and regretting it instantly. Don’t shrug him off, his inner voice scolds him. “C’mon, Charles. You’re overreactin’.”

The man arches a brow. “Am I? Watching the two of you cuddling during a meeting feels like chaperoning teenagers. Honestly, I must admit you’re even worse than them at times.”

That remark lands harder than Logan expects. He opens his not-so-smart-mouth, ready with a retort, but no words come out. For once, his quick wit fails him, leaving him standing there in uncharacteristic silence.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Charles’ eyes fall shut. “Just… try to be more present, alright? And don’t distract her, or yourself, too much. That’s all I’m asking for.”

Later, when he recounts the conversation to you, you start pacing nervously across his bedroom, your teeth worrying at your nails.

“Maybe he’s right,” you murmur, more to yourself than to him.

“Darlin’—”

“I just don’t want him to be angry with us,” you cut him off, arms dropping to your sides in defeat. Turning toward him, you sit down on the edge of his bed, your shoulder brushing his as your eyes bore into the carpet. “Do you think we should... give each other some space?”

Your suggestion feels like a punch to his gut. He sits up straighter, hands finding their way to your hips as he guides you onto his lap, your thighs bracketing his waist. “I think we’re fine the way we are,” he says, tipping his forehead against yours, his nose brushing yours in a loving gesture, coaxing a small smile from you. “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. Are you happy with me?”

You nod—once, twice, like it’s the only answer you could possibly give. “I love you,” you whisper, the words trembling, your lips curving into a smile that he feels against his own when he kisses you.

“God,” he grumbles against your mouth, long fingers tightening on your hips. “I never get tired of hearin’ that.” Logan cups your ass through your clothes, rocking you against him, and a groan escapes his throat as your center presses against his half-hard cock. “Say it again,” he rasps, his voice wanting.

“I love you,” you breathe, your head falling back when his hands move to unbutton your shirt, his touch reverent and greedy all at once. “I love you so much.”

Before you know it, he’s rolled you onto your back, hovering above you as he peels away the layers between you. He can’t comprehend how he got so lucky, how he gets to have you like this every day, so pliant and eager beneath his body. Your whimpers grow softer, more airy, but even then, you’re still whispering how madly in love you are with him.

This is a memory he’ll hold on to when Charles inevitably asks him to reconsider—to think about what’s best for both you and him. Fragile moments like this will slip through his fingers, but for now, they’re his to cherish.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

It turns out that love doesn’t come neatly wrapped in perfection. No—it’s a chaotic blend of tender glances and fiery clashes, of whispered promises and cutting comebacks. It’s arguments that sting as much as they heal, moments that don’t glitter but still matter, making the difference.

“Fuck off!” you snap, shoving the door against its frame, trying to shut him out. But Logan’s hand wedges in the gap, his strength effortlessly outmatching yours. “Get out, Logan.”

“No.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” he grits through clenched teeth, pushing the door open and stepping inside. Behind him, Jean calls your name, but he doesn’t turn. “Not now, Jean!” His voice echoes down the hall, and the sound of her retreating steps leaves the air tense.

You’ve already crossed the room, standing by the window. The sunlight filters through, painting your silhouette in warm flickers. Outside, the kids are in their break, passing a ball, their laughter carried by the breeze. Logan moves toward you, his presence heavy, and you hold up a hand to stop him.

“I’m going on that mission,” you say firmly.

“No, you’re not.”

Your head snaps toward him, a storm unraveling in your gaze. “Charles wants me there. The team wants me there,” you shoot back, jabbing a finger into his chest with each word, “and most importantly, I want to go. You don’t get to decide for me.”

Logan doesn’t step back, doesn’t flinch. He can’t understand how you don’t see his side of things, how the thought of you being in danger like this twists his insides into knots. “I can’t lose you.”

“Logan—”

“No, you don’t get it!” The words burst out of him. “What if something happens to you? What if you get hurt, and we can’t get you back in time?” His fists clench at his sides, fighting the need to pull you into his arms, to feel that you’re still here with him, still safe. “It’d kill me, because I love you with everything that I am. Just thinkin’ about losin’ you makes me sick.”

Your expression softens, but only for a moment. You take a step in his direction, closing the space between you. There’s no hesitation in your tone when you speak, leaving space for conviction. “I had a life before you, Logan. I’ve been here since I was a child, learning how to fight, how to survive. I’ve gone on missions for years—missions that were just as dangerous as this one. I don’t need you to protect me like this.” Your voice wavers, just barely. “I appreciate that you care, but I’m just as capable as you are.”

How long can someone hold their breath? Logan doesn’t even notice he’s doing it until your arms encircle his waist, your embrace melting the tension that’s been coiling in his chest. You bury your face against him, your breath steadying, and he draws a long breath, pressing his lips to your forehead like it’s the only thing keeping him from falling apart. His hand slides into your hair, fingers threading through the strands with a softness that feels almost out of place after the heated exchange.

“You get so bossy sometimes.”

"I thought you said you liked me bossy," you answer, your voice low, laced with mixed feelings, as you look up at him through hooded eyes.

Logan’s lips twitch into what aims to simulate a smile, but it’s weighed down by the sadness pooling in his gaze. It doesn’t reach the crinkle of his eyes, doesn’t carry the warmth it usually does. 

“I do,” he says, his voice rough, barely audible, brushing a thumb across your cheek. The words hang between you, carrying a plea for things to feel less heavy, for this closeness to fix what words can’t.

The arguments come more frequently now. The love hasn’t faded—of course, it hasn’t—but it feels buried beneath the noise. You and Logan clash over everything, over nothing, over things neither of you can quite name, all the fucking time.

It’s a cycle that none of you can seem to break, passion feeding the fire until it burns too bright, too hot. One of you always storms out, slamming doors or throwing words that linger in the air like acid smoke. And yet, no matter how much it hurts, no matter how lost you both feel, the love is still there. Aching, waiting for the dust to settle.

You tell yourself it’s just a rough patch. That love like this isn’t easy, that it’s supposed to be messy. But sometimes, when the silence stretches too long after another fight, you can’t help but wonder how much more the two of you can take before something breaks for good.

Lust becomes your apology, an untamed collision of anger and desire that you can’t resist. It’s not gentle—it’s frenzied and blazing. The bed creaks beneath you, the sounds of your moans and the slap of his hips against your ass enveloping the room. Every thrust drives you closer, the ferocity of it making your head bump into the headboard, but all you can think about is how full he makes you feel.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you cry out, drooling all over the pillow, ass high up in the air as Logan continues to pound into you. He pulls out all of a sudden, making you gasp in protest. That’s when you feel his tongue against your slit, eating you out from behind, spreading your cheeks to see just how much further he can go. Your hand flies back, pressing him into your skin. “So good, baby. F-fuck.”

There’s no leaving him, not even in your wildest dreams. When he spills inside you, you always ask him to hold you close, whispering for him to stay there. To keep you full of him. And he does, fusing your body with the mattress, his weight anchoring you to the pleasure he knows how to grant you. 

But then, it’s morning. The sun filters through the curtains, painting stripes across the rumpled sheets, and you’re tangled together, his arm heavy across your waist. You stare at the ceiling, your mind crawling back to the fight, to the anger that seemed so vital only hours ago. You have to force yourself to remember why you were so mad in the first place. As his hand slides over your hip, pulling you toward him, the memory slips further away.

Dating Logan means understanding the darkness he carries, the nightmares he has almost every night. Usually, you’re woken by his movements, his rambling, the tremors that run through his body. You’ve perfected a way of rousing him gently, pulling him from the grip of whatever horrors his mind conjures without causing him more harm.

Though tonight, you must’ve been drained. You didn’t notice the moment the nightmare began.

“Honey? Oh, fuck. Wake up, c’mon.” His voice pulls you from the depths of sleep, and when your eyes flutter open and adjust to the dim light, the first thing you see is Logan, sitting rigid, staring at your arm as though it’s breaking him apart. The pain in his gaze is nearly palpable.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, voice groggy as you sit up, still partly disoriented. “Logan, are you okay?”

Then you see it: Blood. Dark stains seeping into the sheets, trailing from a jagged cut running the length of your forearm. It isn’t deep, and oddly, it doesn’t even hurt that much. But Logan looks stricken, his eyes flickering between your wound and his own hands.

“It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt,” you assure him as you fumble to grab the ruined sheets, bundling them up to contain the mess. Reaching for the lamp on the nightstand, you switch it on, bathing the room in a golden glow. That’s when you notice the droplets of blood on his knuckles, the torn skin where his claws must have pierced through. This has never happened before. Neither of you know what to say or how to react. When you reach for his hand, he recoils, shaking his head like he’s trying to will the scene away. “Hey, don’t do that.” 

“I knew it’d happen eventually.” He’s spiraling, rising to his feet. A man trying to escape himself. A thin sheen of sweat glistens on his chest and back, his body tense with the effort of holding his pieces together. Turning to face you, his expression is the embodiment of torment. In his eyes, it’s as though the prophecy has been confirmed, irrevocably, by his own doing. “I hurt you. I told you it was going to happen.”

“Why are you acting like this?” you ask, pushing yourself off the bed to meet him. You’re tired, too tired to be arguing like this. “It won’t happen again.”

“How can you be so sure? You said the same thing before, and now look. Look at where we are.”

You’re at a loss for how to calm him. The exhaustion weighing on you makes your thoughts sluggish, and you’re afraid of saying something you’ll regret. But giving up isn’t an option—not with him, not because of this. Slowly, you step back and spin in place, letting him see you fully, the wound and all.

“You see? I’m fine,” you insist. “I’m not hurt. Please, Logan, believe me when I say I’m okay.”

He doesn’t respond, but the uncertainty etched into his face lingers. For a moment, you think you’ve reassured him, as he lets you guide him back to the bed. Together, you pull the sheets up to cover your bodies, and he leans into the pillows with a weary sigh. He mutters something about being sweaty, so you don’t rest your head on his chest as usual, settling into the curve of his shoulder instead. The rhythm of his breathing, uneven at first, begins to steady.

At some point, the warmth of his body disappears. You stir faintly, but your mind is too clouded by sleep to register it as anything more than the remnants of a rather vivid dream.

Logan remains standing, staring at Charles, refusing the invitation to sit down. “You told Jean,” he says, and the other man doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even attempt to deny it. “I asked you to keep it between us.”

“I thought she might help you reconsider,” Charles answers, looking more serious than usual, his piercing eyes fixed on Logan. “Logan, I still don’t believe this is the right path for you. It’s not the solution to your problems. You can’t run from her, from this—relying on forgetting won’t bring you peace.”

Who really knows what’s best for him? Logan certainly doesn’t. After all these decades of walking the earth, what has he truly learned? His long life feels like a cruel irony, offering time without clarity. What use is immortality when you’re paralyzed by indecision, unsure of what you truly want?

“I can’t leave her. At least, not willingly,” he explains, his voice quieter now, almost resigned. He shrugs off his jacket and tosses it onto the arm of a chair, the gesture lacking finesse. “She’ll get over it. She’s stronger than she thinks.”

“You’re deciding for her.”

To that, Logan has no reply. He only looks away.

“When I got here, you told me you’d help with whatever I needed.” Logan crosses the room, lowering himself into a chair by Charles’ desk, his posture stiff. He lifts his chin slightly, trying to convey a confidence he doesn’t actually feel. “This is what I need you to do. Today.”

“Let’s start with your most recent memories and work backward from there.” Charles rolls himself closer, his chair nearly brushing Logan’s legs. “There’s an emotional core to every memory, and when you eradicate that core, it begins to degrade. By the time I’m done, those memories will have withered, as in a dream upon waking.”

Logan’s throat tightens at the description. There’s no comfort in Charles’ words. It doesn’t sound like a dream. It sounds like a nightmare.

“Do you want to proceed?”

“Yes.” Logan’s reply is immediate, though it scrapes his throat like gravel.

Charles nods once, solemnly. “Then tell me your most recent memory of her.”

I think I was preparing a class when she burst through the door, uninvited. I’d been trying to keep my distance from her, because of... well, all of this. But it wasn’t easy. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her to leave, so I let her stay. She came up behind me, wrapped her arms around me, and asked if I had much left to do. I told her everything else could wait. Big mistake.

We were lying on my bed. Somehow, we always ended up there, tangled together. It wasn’t strictly... sexual. There’s something profoundly vulnerable about sharing that space. Snuggling, you could call it. Now that I think about it, she likes resting her head on my chest. Says it’s the best way to hear my heartbeat and find out if it matches hers.

“Focus, Logan.”

Yeah, I know. You’re right. Anyway, she asked me if I believed in soulmates, and I laughed. Obviously, she thought I was mocking her, so I had to convince her I wasn’t. I just thought the question was funny.

“Why did you laugh?”

Because it was exactly the kind of question she’d ask. She hadn’t before, but I’d been waiting for it. She told me she thought soulmates existed, and that I was hers. And I laughed again, and she threatened to leave. I held her tighter.

I told her I didn’t know if soulmates were real. I didn’t have that kind of certainty. What I did know, I said, was that I loved her. That was the only thing I was sure of. Soulmates or no soulmates, I loved her. I was right where I wanted to be. Those were my exact words.

“When did this happen?”

Yesterday. Before she left with Ororo and Scott for their mission. That’s why I’m choosing to do this now.

“I’m afraid I have to ask you again. Are you absolutely certain you want me to do this?”

Yes, Charles. Please, don’t ask me again.

Throwing open the mansion’s entry door, you let it swing wide as you step inside. You could use a shower, but right now, all you care about is finding him. Where is he?

Before starting your search, a cluster of students rushes toward you, their arms wrapping around your waist. Their laughter fills your senses as they chatter excitedly, hugging you tightly. “We missed you!” A boy exclaims, and you can’t help but smile, ruffling his hair.

“Have you seen Professor Logan?” you ask, crouching to meet the eye of one of the younger girls.

She grins, her innocent smile spreading, and she points toward the kitchen. “He’s in there.”

You thank her and make your way to the kitchen, your heart beating a little faster. You find him standing by the counter, slicing bread. His movements are methodical, his posture calm, but something feels off. You pause in the doorway, scrutinizing his face for a sign, any sign, that he’s happy to see you.

But his gaze flicks to you for only a brief moment, cool and detached, before returning to his task.

“Hey,” you call softly, tilting your head. His shoulders tense, and he doesn’t stop cutting. “I’m back,” you add, stepping closer, hoping for some sort of acknowledgment.

It takes him a few seconds to respond, and when he does, his voice sounds flat. “I see.” He opens a drawer, pulling out a fork. “Good for you, I guess.”

The words hit you like a slap. A joke, surely. But why? You take a hesitant step forward, your brows furrowing. “Logan, why—”

Before you can finish, a hand grabs yours, yanking you out of the kitchen. Startled, you turn to see Jean, her expression pale and stricken.

“Jean?” you ask, confused. “Is this another one of Logan’s pranks?”

Her lips twitch, and tears glisten in her eyes when she swallows thickly. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers, her voice cracking. “I tried to stop him. I really did. But he—he wouldn’t listen!” Her hands tighten around yours, quivering. You’ve never seen her like this before.

“Wait—slow down,” you urge, your stomach twisting.

“I swear, I tried to talk him out of it,” she pleads, each of the words she utters rushing out like a flood. “You know how stubborn he can get.”

It doesn’t take too long for her panic to feel contagious. The pit in your abdomen deepens as you glance back toward the kitchen, where Logan stands just out of sight.

Something is wrong—terribly wrong.

“Jean, what did he do?”

Despite all his wisdom, Charles had known this moment would come the second he agreed to help Logan.

The door to his office flies open, slamming against the wall with a force that reverberates through the room. You storm in, your strides long and charged with anger, your breath coming in ragged gasps. Madness blazes in your eyes. “You did what?!”

“My dear—”

“You erased me from my boyfriend’s memory!” The words erupt from you, shaking the very air. You fling your arms wide, your fury spilling over. Before he can respond, you turn on his bookshelf, yanking ancient, cherished volumes from their resting places. One by one, you ignite them, flames devouring their fragile pages in an instant.

Then, there’s a momentary pause—a flicker of silence before you seize another book. This one you hurl in his direction, not quite at his face, but close enough to graze the air near his shoulder before it hits the floor with a heavy thud. The sound echoes, a physical punctuation to your rage.

“You made me disappear! He doesn’t fucking know who I am!”

His expression, pained and weary, holds no exasperation—only regret. “He asked me to do it.”

“What kind of an answer is that?” The question hangs underlined by the tears that stream down your face. Your voice breaks, the pain behind it cutting deeper than any accusation. “You could’ve said no, Charles. How many times have you denied me things?”

“You didn’t see him in the way I did, he was—” He stops himself, faltering. No words can repair what he has already destroyed. “I’m sorry.”

You stand there, breathing hard, the space between you filled with smoldering ash and a silence so loud it feels suffocating. The remains of his books lie scattered, the faint scent of burnt paper lingering in the air. Charles watches you, but he doesn’t move to stop you. He doesn’t fight you.

The fury ebbs, leaving behind a hollow ache that takes its place in your chest. “If you’re so willing to erase love like it’s nothing, then do it for me, too.”

Charles’s brows knit together. “You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t I? Logan doesn’t remember me. I walk into a room, and he looks right through me. Like I’m a stranger, like I never mattered. So tell me, what’s the point in remembering him if he’s already forgotten me?”

“I don’t believe forgetting will give you the peace you’re looking for.”

“Is that what you told him as well? Clearly, it worked out well.”

Touché.

“I’ve already hurt you enough,” he whispers.

“And you’ll keep hurting me if you don’t do this. I can’t carry this alone.” You kneel in front of him, clutching the edge of his wheelchair. “If you could take it away from him, you can take it away from me, too.”

Charles stares down at you, his mouth tightening, as if the weight of your words presses down on him. His hands, usually so steady, shift uncomfortably in his lap. It’s clear he can’t believe this is the second time he’s found himself in this situation, faced with the same desperate request. “Are you sure?”

You nod your head. “He wanted to forget me. Now, I want to forget him.”

He exhales slowly, the sound heavy with resignation. “All right,” he says softly, though his voice carries a sadness he doesn’t try to hide. “But I need you to understand… once it’s done, there’s no going back.”

 “That’s the point.” You wipe at your cheeks with the back of your hand, as though erasing the tears could also erase the doubt creeping in.

“Then sit,” he counters, motioning to the chair Logan sat in days ago.

You hesitate for a moment, the finality of the act looming large. Slowly, you lower yourself into the chair, gripping its arms with all your earnest. Charles wheels himself closer, and the reality of what’s about to happen sets in.

“Tell me your last memory of him,” he says gently, his voice barely above a whisper.

You close your eyes, and the image surfaces instantly: Logan, holding you close, whispering that he loves you. No soulmates, no destiny—just love. You let out a shaky breath, your heart breaking all over again as you begin to recount it. “The last time he looked at me like I was his whole world.”

Charles nods, his expression unreadable, placing his hands on your temples. “Whenever you’re ready.”

I had to leave the next day, so I wanted to spend as much time as possible with him. My things were already packed. I walked into Logan’s room and asked him if he was busy. A week isn’t a lot, but ever since he moved here, we hadn’t been apart from each other. I was anxious about that. I thought it’d be so hard to fall asleep without him at night. What—oh, God, what’ll happen now?

“I need you to keep going, darling.”

Don’t call me that. 

“Alright. I’m sorry.”

I convinced him to lie in bed with me. I had my head on his chest, and he kissed my forehead. His beard scratched me in the right way. It never hurt or bothered me. I had once dated a guy who had a beard, and it was just so uncomfortable. But that wasn’t Logan’s case. He would kiss me and hug me, and it felt like the best thing in the world.

There was a question I’d been meaning to ask him. It was about soulmates, and the existence of them. I thought Logan was my soulmate, and I said it to him. I asked if he believed in them, but he laughed. He told me he wasn’t making fun of me or anything, just that he thought the question was funny.

Logan said he didn’t know whether soulmates existed or not, but he knew for a fact that he loved me. He didn’t care about anything else. He loved me. He really did. Do you think he loved me, Charles?

“Yes. I do believe so.”

Then why did you take that away from me?

“I’m sorry.”

I hate you.

“I know.”

Your head pounds, an ache that feels like it’s splitting you in two. It’s a pain unlike anything you’ve ever known. Your vision blurs, forcing you to blink repeatedly until the world around you sharpens into focus.

Four blank walls. The stark, colorless void offers nothing but the oppressive weight of emptiness. This must be your mind, stripped bare. Somewhere in the depths of this space, Charles is at work, pulling threads and unraveling every memory of Logan.

You push yourself off the cold floor. A soundless shift disturbs the space—a door appears out of nowhere, its frame faintly glowing, and without hesitation, you reach for the handle and swing it open.

On the other side is a fragment of your past: that night months ago, sitting in the living room, watching a movie. Logan had decided to join you. The memory pulls you in, and suddenly, you’re no longer standing—you’re on the couch. Your clothes have altered to match that night. Logan sits beside you, the warmth of his presence impossibly real.

This moment feels untouched by time, but deep down, you know the truth. Charles is erasing it even as you relive it. Soon, this too will vanish.

The scene begins to warp. It’s no longer the movie on the screen. The couple has been replaced by you and Logan. You’re watching yourselves from a third perspective, your bodies framed by the flickering light of the TV. It’s deeply unsettling, but in this fragmented state of consciousness, it doesn’t feel worth questioning.

“Logan?”

“Tell me.”

You grab a cushion and smack him on the arm, the motion instinctive. “You idiot!”

“What was that for?” he asks, laughing as he takes the cushion from your hands, tossing it aside. “Are you okay?”

“Don’t play dumb.”

“I seriously have no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”

“You erased me from your memory!” you accuse him, even as you know the futility of it. He’s merely a fragment, a faint echo of who he once was to you. A lingering shard of memory caught in the tangled wires of your brain, sparking as it teeters on the edge of a short circuit. “You’re not even real, are you?”

“No,” he admits, his voice tinged with something like regret. “I’m just in your mind. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, don’t be. You’re just what’s left.” You lower your gaze, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders. “How long do you think it’ll take Charles to erase you?”

He opens his mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. The words you long for, the closure you might crave, are swallowed up. His lips vanish mid-formulation, and then you’re staring at a blank void where his mouth used to be. The rest of his features begins to fade—his eyes dissolve into nothingness, followed by his nose, his brows, the lines of his face. All that’s left is the space where he once sat, and even that feels tenuous.

You’re on your own now. The memory of him—of that night, the first time you truly shared an intimate moment—has been swept away like smoke in the wind. You collapse onto the floor, trembling as sobs tear through you, your hands pressed tightly against your face, attempting to contain your anguish. “I don’t want to forget you,” you choke out between hiccupped breaths, the sting of tears burning your eyes. “I never asked for any of this.”

“I know,” a familiar voice murmurs behind you, and there he is—Logan. This time, he’s wearing his suit. His claws are unsheathed, gleaming. “I shouldn’t have done it first. I don’t know what I was thinking’.”

You push yourself to your feet, drawn to him. When you move to hug him, he takes a step back, raising his claws as if to protect you from getting harmed. “I can’t retract them. If I hug you, I’ll hurt you.”

“I don’t care,” you whisper, pressing forward and slotting yourself between his arms, ignoring the danger. Your face finds its habitual place against his chest, and you inhale deeply, inhaling his scent. “I just want you.”

His arms fold around you hesitantly, careful yet incomplete. You feel a sharp pain, a searing slice along your ribs that rips a scream from your throat. The agony is blinding, drowning your world into darkness.

When you open your eyes again, you’re somewhere else entirely. The bed feels soft beneath you, the sheets tangled around your legs. Logan is there beside you, his body warm against yours, both of you naked under the sheets.

“You’re lost in thought,” he says, his voice tender, taking a strand of your hair, twisting it gently before tucking it behind your ear. “You alright?”

His face won’t stay still. Beard, no beard. A moustache that fades as quickly as it appears. Hair long, then short. Sideburns one moment, smooth skin the next. He’s a shifting mosaic of himself. You realize you can’t remember what he looked like the last time you saw him.

“I’m forgetting you.” Your fingertips trace the curve of his cheek, memorizing each detail. “I don’t think I can stop it now.”

He’s seconds away from crying, his lips finding yours in a kiss that feels both desperate and resigned. “Stay here with me,” he whispers against your mouth, his hands sliding over your arms, your stomach, your legs. “Don’t let me go.”

“You did it to me first,” you say, voice thick with emotion, pulling him closer, down until his body presses fully against yours. His weight feels real, but you know it’s not. Nothing about this moment is.

His voice breaks, repeating the same mantra. “Stay here with me. Don’t let me go.”

The touches multiply. It’s no longer just his hands on your skin. It’s as if the entire universe is reaching for you. The cacophony of touches, the overlapping voices—“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry”—swirls into a suffocating chaos.

Logan begins to blur, like a photograph left too long in the sun. His face fades first, then his body, until all that remains is a ghost of his shadow. Then even that is gone. The bed disappears beneath you, leaving you adrift in an empty expanse. You can’t tell if you’re still there, or if you’ve vanished with him.

You exhale slowly. Silence, at last.

The second first time you see him, he’s sitting alone outside on a weathered bench, his shoulders slightly hunched. He’s completely alone, and you pause a few steps away, studying him for a moment. He doesn’t seem like someone you would’ve missed at the mansion. Charles mentioned he’d recently joined the team, a mutant who had spent too long wandering the earth.

You clear your throat, trying not to overthink it. “Mind if I take a seat?” you ask, your hands clasped behind your back as you wait for his reply.

He shifts to one end of the bench, leaving you more than enough room, though his movements seem cautious. You sit down, exhaling softly as an awkward silence stretches between you. His demeanor isn’t exactly inviting, and you wonder how to bridge the gap.

After a moment, you stretch out your hand, offering a polite smile, giving him your name. He glances at your hand, then takes it. “M’Logan,” he says simply, though you already knew that from your previous talk with Charles. His fingers are rough, calloused, yet they linger a beat longer than necessary before letting go. “The other day, I was in the kitchen, and you walked in. You were acting… strange.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Really?” Your gaze flickers between his face and your hand that still feels warm from his touch. “I don’t remember that. Are you sure it was me?”

Logan hesitates, scratching the back of his neck. “I thought so… but maybe not.” His lips press into a thin line, shrugging. “Never mind. I could be wrong.”

Tilting your head, you study him. There’s something familiar that you can’t quite place. “Have we met before? Outside this place, I mean. It’s just… I feel like I know you. Like I’ve seen you somewhere, but I can’t figure out where.”

His eyes meet yours then, like your question has triggered something dormant. He leans back slightly, his posture relaxing as he lets out a low chuckle. “Funny you’d say that. I wasn’t planning on bringing it up, but… I got the same feeling.”

You can’t help the small laugh that escapes you. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Not at all.” His lips quirk into a smile, one that matches yours.

Inside the mansion, Charles and Jean watch the scene through the window. Jean folds her arms across her chest, her expression caught between awe and disbelief. “This is crazy,” she murmurs, shaking her head.

“Don’t get me started,” Charles replies.

“They don’t know what happened, but they still feel it. Like they’re connected.” She peers down at Charles, her voice quieter now. “You erased everything, didn’t you? Every memory, every trace.”

Charles keeps his eyes on the scene outside, his features softening as he watches the two of you talk. He sighs, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips. “You’re asking me for an explanation I don’t have. I guess some things… refuse to be forgotten.”

Blessed are the forgetful, for they get the better even of their blunders.

Friedrich Nietzsche.

dividers by: @cafekitsune thank you!!! <3

[joycrispy]

I have (very minor) surgery tomorrow to repair the last (I hope) of the physical side-effects of 2022. Which means a significant source of chronic pain will be gone, and also, that's one more thing about it all that I never have to think about again.

Good riddance.

[poisonlove]

Absolutely ignore/get rid of this is you don't wanna do it buttt

Can I request a Wednesday x Fem!reader where Wednesday has a general disregard for everyone and their feelings EXCEPT for her little situationship (reader) and it's just little instances where she's softer with her?

YOU | w.a

pairing: Wednesday Addams x reader

A/N : I tried to satisfy your request as much as possible but Wednesday and reader don't have a situationship, they will develop... something ;)

"The most precious things in life are usually the most helpless." Penn Badgley

Wednesday Addams walked along the corridors of Nevermore Academy with a brisk yet graceful step, the sound of her shoes against the cold marble determining her hurry to get to the library. The other students stepped aside as she passed, probably intimidated by her dark and menacing gaze that seemed carved into her features.

"Addams, one word"

Wednesday reluctantly stops, turning slightly and raising an eyebrow. Yoko Tanaka strides toward her, sunglasses perched on her head revealing a pleading look. Wednesday had no intention of wasting her time with her roommate’s best friend, but seeing the vampire in such a state of despair piqued her curiosity.

"What do you want Yoko?" Wednesday asked, her tone of voice deliberately rude. But the brunette didn't care at all.

"I need your help," Yoko began, trying to keep calm, but her voice betrayed a certain frustration. "Could you help me with Thornill's homework? I can't find the damn Moon Flower anywhere."

Wednesday could hardly believe her ears: how dare she interrupt her plans for something so stupid? With her classic impassive gaze, the brunette stared at Yoko in a prolonged silence that made her feel more and more uncomfortable.

"I don't care," Wednesday finally replied with venom and disinterest, surprising the vampire. "If you can't do such a stupid task, maybe you deserve to fail," the brunette added in a cutting tone.

"but it doesn't cost you anything!" Yoko exclaimed in despair.

Wednesday's behavior annoyed her deeply, but Yoko had hoped that following Enid's advice to be kind and tolerant would at least provide some relief. Apparently she was wrong.

"I said no, Yoko," Wednesday replied, her tone even more icy. Her gaze was steady and impenetrable, and her patience, already thin, was completely exhausted.

Yoko sighed deeply, realizing that pushing further would get her nowhere. She put her sunglasses back on in a quick, controlled motion, hiding her annoyance behind a forced smile. Her grin revealed her pointed canines, a gesture that might have seemed threatening in other circumstances, but here it only served to hide her irritation.

"ok, Addams"

with one last look, Yoko walked away, keeping that forced smile until she turned the corner. Wednesday didn't follow her with her gaze, already tired of that brief and, in her eyes, pointless interaction.

As she set off again, determined to finally reach the library, she was interrupted again. This time it was her two friends Ajax and Xavier who stopped her. The two approached quickly with an air of urgency that seemed to want to drag her into some other stupid discussion.

"Wednesday, can we talk to you for a moment?" Xavier asked hesitantly.

the brunette stopped again, clearly irritated now. her gaze narrowed to a slit of annoyance as she waited for them to speak.

"I have a problem with my new work... and I think you can help me," Xavier said, trying to be persuasive.

Wednesday looked at both of them coldly, her patience crumbling with every passing second. All of Nevermore ignored her and labeled her as the school freak, psychopathic and creepy... and now, by some strange twist of fate, everyone needed her today? She simply wanted to go to the library to further her research on poisons and their uses , see you , continue writing her story, or go to the cemetery later.

“I don't care,” she replied coldly, hoping Xavier would understand that she felt some urgency in leaving.

"Addams," Ajax intervenes, "I wanted to ask you for advice... you know that I'm interested in Enid and since you're her roommate..." the gorgon continues, purposely leaving the sentence hanging.

Wednesday stared at them in silence for a few moments, her impassive gaze betraying her impatience. "I don't care in the slightest about your problems and if you don't get out of my way immediately, I won't hesitate to make you regret this conversation" the brunette threatens in a low and cold tone.

Ajax and Xavier look at each other in confusion and fear, pondering Addams's words. They both knew Wedsnesday's reputation and the very real danger of being killed by the shorter girl terrified them.

they decided to step aside.

Wednesday continued on her way, completely ignoring them, while the two boys exchanged glances of resignation. The massive wooden doors finally loomed in the distance and the swarm of students' voices faded as she entered the less frequented part of Nevermore.

"WED!" an all-too-familiar voice shouts enthusiastically.

For the third time that day, Wednesday had to stop. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to suppress the killer instinct that threatened to surface and put an end to her blonde roommate's irritating exuberance. She was seriously starting to believe that it was a curse cast by her mother, some sort of psychological torture designed to test her patience. Unfortunately, it was far from her favorite torture, and she focused on something she knew would calm her down: you.

"Wednesday," Enid exclaimed, catching up with her with a beaming smile, "I was just looking for you... The Poe Cup is coming up again and we have to defend the title! You'll be there, right? We can't do it without you!"

Wednesday stared at the blonde, impassive. Entering the Poe Cup again was the last thing she wanted to do, but she knew Enid wouldn't give up so easily.

"I'll think about it," she replied, keeping her tone detached. She didn't want to seem too involved, but she didn't want to completely dampen Enid's enthusiasm either.

"Awesome!" Enid clapped her hands, thrilled by the response. Then she walked away, skipping happily down the hallway.

Wednesday watched her go, mentally wondering how Enid managed to maintain all that vitality. With a barely audible sigh, she finally resumed her walk towards the library. The brunette lifts the corners of her lips as she enters her haven of peace, looking at the shelves covered in books and dust.

the sound of footsteps echoes throughout the library, her figure getting lost among the endless avenues of shelves and books of Nevermore. Her diligently runs her fingers through the tomes, grazing their rough and fragile covers, the wisdom that hides within them. The few students who were there were busy reading or studying among the various desks scattered around that place, the silence broken only by the sound of the pages being turned.

but it is among those shelves that she finally sees: you

she knew basically the essential things about you: your name is Y/N; you are a year older than her, you are Italian, you love blue and your power is to control fire. You were very good friends with Yoko, for some strange reason, and you were a person who despite the aura of mystery and darkness that surrounded you, smiled and was kind to everyone.

she noticed you a few days ago and still hasn't figured out who you are. Were you really that nice? what's really bothering you Y/N?

Wednesday watched you intently, savoring your every move. She noticed the way you brushed your hair back from your face, the smile that lit up your face when you read something that excited you, and even the grimaces you made in response to bizarre or banal passages you encountered.

Some might call it stalking, but she's really just trying to understand you better.

her black eyes never left your figure: you were tall, you had a sharp jaw that accentuated your strong face and you had full lips that were somehow always ready to whisper something provocative or sarcastic. at that moment you had chosen to gather your hair in a messy bun, a practical choice but one that added a touch of carefree elegance to your appearance.

you were struggling with a pile of books that seemed to have a life of its own. Some had already fallen, scattering across the floor. You quickly bent down to pick them up, but each attempt only seemed to make things worse.

Were you disorganized or did your hunger for books make you so careless?

Wednesday realized it was the perfect time to come out of hiding. She approached you cautiously, then crouched down and picked up a couple of books. Her cold fingers landed on Wicked Plants: The Weed That Killed Lincoln's Mother and Other Botanical Atrocities by Amy Stewart, and a thin smile threatened to appear on her lips. She was almost certain that she was the only one, aside from maybe Thornill, who had read that book in the entire school. Finding out that you shared the same literary tastes hit her in a surprisingly pleasant way.

“Here.” Wednesday’s voice was almost a whisper, as if she were intimidated by the idea of an interaction.

your eyes lift from the floor to meet hers.

Wednesday held her breath. They were the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen. You looked at her with curiosity, maybe surprise, but there was something in your eyes that made her feel strangely vulnerable.

“Thank you,” you croak embarrassedly, your cheeks pink knowing someone had witnessed your disaster.

“Maybe you should stop devouring more books than you can handle,” Wednesday said venomously. Her words were a wall behind which she hid the slight agitation she was trying to ignore.

you smile. Shouldn't you be annoyed by my answer?

"What's your name?" she asks curiously

Wednesday stared at you for a moment, cold as ever. “Wednesday,” she replied dryly, not giving anything away. But when you smiled again, the brunette felt a shiver run through her mind, one she tried desperately to ignore.

“Happy reading,” Wednesday adds quickly, turning around as she notices the slight look of confusion crossing your face. It was clear that you wanted to continue the conversation, maybe tell her your name, but Wednesday couldn’t stand there beside you without feeling her body boil.

she needed to leave the library and distract her mind

would have continued after the search, with the necessary calm

but there was an unexpected relief in knowing that she now knew her name

just like she knew yours.

A/N: yes I know, very inspired by the YOU series

[gilbertscurls]

Hiiiii, could you please write a smut about either Chris or Matt over stimulating the reader and then the reader has to use their safe word and then either Chris or Matt gives the reader lots of aftercare?????

hope you like it <3

Good for You ➵ Chris Sturniolo

warnings: short smut, overstimulation, oral sex (f!receiving), safe word (i made it pepsi bc i had no ideas lmao), crying

It was late, and the quiet of Chris���s room was interrupted only by the sound of soft breaths and murmured words. You lay on the bed, your head thrown back as Chris settled in between your thighs, seemingly insatiable. One orgasm, two, three…

Chris was attentive, his touches always searching for your comfort. But as the night went on, he kept pushing just a little more each time, his gaze locked on yours, watching the way you responded. There was a hunger in his eyes, tempered only by the care in his touch, each gentle whisper of reassurance keeping you grounded.

"Oh god, Chris…" you gasped out, your body trembling beneath him as yet another climax washed over you. You felt so sensitive now, every nerve ending alight with pleasure that bordered on pain. Your hands gripped his shoulders tightly, nails digging in as you tried to anchor yourself against the overwhelming sensations.

But even through the haze of ecstasy, you could sense Chris's intensity, the way his focus never wavered from your face. It made you feel seen, truly understood in a way you rarely experienced. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as a wave of emotion crashed over you.

"Please," you whispered, not quite sure what you were asking for. More of the same intense pleasure? A moment's respite from the relentless tide of feelings? Or maybe just… connection. "I don't know how much more…"

"Shh, it's okay, I've got you." Chris breathed softly, pressing a tender kiss to your inner thigh before trailing up towards where you needed him most again. He licked slowly along your slit, savoring your taste and the way you shuddered in response.

Chris's mouth sealed around your clit, sucking gently as he continued to lap at your folds. His fingers probed deeper, curling inside you to stroke that sensitive spot within. The sounds of your pleasure were music to his ears, spurring him on. He knew he should probably slow down, give you a break, but he couldn't help himself. Seeing you like this, lost in bliss, was intoxicating. And he craved more — more of your moans, more of your trembles, more of your trust. So he kept going, determined to push you to new heights, to make you forget everything except the exquisite sensation of him worshipping your body.

"That's it baby, let go," Chris coaxed breathily between long licks. "I want to hear you fall apart for me." He punctuated his words with a firm suck on your clit, making your hips buck involuntarily. "Come on, baby, give me one more." His voice was low and rough with desire, urging you onwards. He slid two fingers deep inside you, pumping steadily as his tongue swirled around the sensitive bundle of nerves. "Cum for me," he commanded, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your core. "Let yourself go."

But then, as he continued, you felt a shift—a hint of something overwhelming that built up inside of you, like waves crashing harder and harder. At first, you brushed it off, trying to meet his pace, but the intensity grew faster than you’d expected, making it difficult to keep up.

And suddenly, it was too much. A tightness built in your chest, and without realizing, you felt tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

With a shaky breath, you whispered, “Pepsi.”

Chris immediately froze. The safe word you’d both chosen felt like a lifeline, and his face softened as he pulled back instantly, his gaze full of concern and care. “Hey, hey…” His voice dropped to a low, soothing tone as he met your eyes.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… a little much,” you murmured, feeling a few tears prick at the corners of your eyes, a mix of release and relief.

“Don’t apologize. I’m here,” he said, gently brushing a few strands of hair away from your face. Chris reached out to softly take your hand, grounding you, his thumb tracing gentle circles over your knuckles. “Let’s take a breath together, alright?”

You nodded, matching his slow, deep breaths, feeling yourself steady under his calm presence. He leaned in to press a comforting kiss to your forehead, not moving any closer, giving you space to feel and be. Slowly, the room seemed to settle, and the intensity of the moment faded into the familiar warmth of being with him.

Once you both sat up, he guided you to the bed, pulling the covers around you like a soft cocoon. He grabbed his sweatshirt from the nearby chair, slipping it over your shoulders. “Here, I know you love this one.” His small smile reassured you, his touch never hurried, always gentle.

He settled in beside you, wrapping an arm around you, and you leaned into him, feeling the heat of his chest against your cheek. “Better?” he asked softly, fingers brushing through your hair in slow, comforting strokes.

“Yeah,” you whispered, your voice a bit rough. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he murmured, his voice a soft anchor. “I’ve got you. You don’t need to be anyone or anything right now. Just relax.” He held you close, every gesture gentle and reassuring. A few stray tears escaped, but he just tucked you closer, his hand a steady presence on your back.

Time seemed to slow as you rested against him, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear. You felt his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your shoulder and down your arm, a touch that was comforting and steady. He was humming softly now, a tune you recognized from one of your late-night playlists, and the sound wrapped around you like a blanket.

After a while, Chris leaned back slightly to meet your eyes. “Want some water or anything?” he asked.

You nodded, and he slipped out of bed, only to return a moment later with a glass. “Here, take your time.” He stayed close as you drank, watching you with that familiar, caring gaze, never pressuring, only making sure you felt safe and comfortable.

Once you settled back into bed, he tucked the blankets around you both, making sure you were warm. “How are you feeling now?” he asked, brushing a thumb across your cheek, a quiet smile in his eyes.

“Good,” you said softly, meeting his gaze. “Really good.” His presence felt like everything you needed to feel secure again, and you felt a surge of gratitude for how gently he’d held you through it all.

He gave you a soft kiss on your forehead, whispering, “I’m here. Always.”

And with that, he wrapped his arms around you again, settling in beside you, letting the peace and closeness wash over you both. The rest of the world faded away, leaving only the warmth of his arms around you, holding you close through the night.

tag list: @stuwniolo, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @matts-myloverboy, @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut, @lizzymacdonald06, @asherrisrandom, @sturniolowhore69, @faith5drpepper, @emely9274, @psychologyloverfr, @lovetaylorrussellgrr, @conspiracy-ash

[inkedinshadows]

Tea, Cookies, and Love

Pairing: Azriel x f!reader

Summary: Azriel takes care of his mate while she's on her period.

Warnings: none

Word count: 1.3k

@azrielappreciationweek

You hated being on your period.

Even after years, it was still hard to deal with the cramps and pain, so strong that most days you couldn’t even get out of bed. Instead, you curled up under the warm sheets, clutching a hot water bottle tightly over your aching tummy. It didn’t help much with the pain, but you liked the comfort it brought.

The door opened silently, and Azriel slipped inside. He had a steaming mug in one hand and a small plate with chocolate cookies in the other. “I made your tea, love,” he said quietly as you lifted your head from the pillow. “I know it doesn’t do much, but it’s better than nothing.”

You just frowned, watching as he set the plate and mug on the nightstand. The smell of ginger and peppermint reached your nose, but you didn’t touch the tea. You would likely burn your tongue if you took a sip now.

“I thought you were going to Rita’s,” you murmured.

“The others did,” Azriel confirmed. As he sat down next to you, a few tendrils of darkness wove through your hair, drawing a small smile from you even as you clenched the muscles in your stomach at the stabbing pain.

You closed your eyes, taking a few deep breaths to work through the next cramp before you could ask, “Why didn’t you go with them?”

Azriel lifted a brow, visibly trying to hold back a smile. “You're really asking that?”

Sitting a bit straighter in bed, you nodded weakly as you reached for the mug. Even if you couldn't drink it yet, you could still savor its warmth in your hands.

“I'm not leaving you alone and in pain while I’m out having fun,” he stated. His voice was soft, but it carried that underlying determination that told you he wasn’t going to change his mind.

Yet, as he stood up and began undressing, you still tried, blowing over the hot tea. “I wouldn’t be mad if you wanted to go with them, you know.”

“I know,” he replied, pulling on some sweatpants and a shirt. He turned to you with a smile. “But I don’t want to.” He climbed into bed next to you, slipping under the blanket and wrapping you in his arms. “No, I want to stay here and take care of my beautiful mate.”

A new warmth spread through your body, one that had nothing to do with the mug or the hot water bottle. You actually removed the latter from your stomach to place it on the nightstand instead, so that you could snuggle closer to Azriel.

“Don’t you need that?” he murmured, letting you move around to find a comfortable position. You settled for curling up against his strong chest, your head resting on his shoulder.

“Not really,” you answered in a whisper. You finally took a sip of the tea, and its pleasant taste filled your mouth, warming your throat as you swallowed. Hopefully, it would soothe your aches, but you knew how unlikely that was. “It’s not that hot anymore.”

“Do you want me to go heat it up again?”

You looked up at him, a soft smile on your lips. You shook your head slightly. “No, it’s fine. I just want you here.”

“Then I’ll stay here.” Azriel pressed a kiss to your temple, then draped his wings around you. “Whatever you need, my love.”

You wanted to answer, but you grimaced instead as another cramp twisted your gut. It felt like being ripped apart from the inside, and you almost spilled the tea while trying to find a position that would bring you some relief. Azriel’s broad hand covered your lower stomach, gently massaging the area to offer what little comfort he could.

“I hate seeing you like this,” he whispered.

“Yeah, I hate feeling like this too,” you mumbled once the pain settled, at least for the moment. You drank some more tea, and your eyes took in the chocolate cookies he had brought you. “Are those Elain’s cookies?”

Azriel nodded, his hand still drawing soothing circles on your stomach. “She made them this morning. I thought you might want some before they're all gone.”

“Gods, I love you,” you breathed. You turned your head just enough for your lips to brush against his, but you didn't kiss him yet. “You just make it so easy.”

Azriel's lips curled into an amused smile. “I love you too, beautiful. But what is it that I make easy?”

You set the mug down, cupping his face with your now-free hands. “Loving you, Az.” You finally kissed him, pouring all your feelings and gratitude into the kiss and down the bond. “You make it very easy to love you.”

You chuckled as a faint blush crept up his neck. “Thank you,” he murmured, “but I don't do anything special.”

“He doesn't do anything special, he says,” you scoffed playfully. You gave his cheek a kiss, then reached for the mug again and took another warm sip.

Snuggling closer to him, you tucked your head under his chin and closed your eyes. Azriel held you tighter, cradling you against his body. As he opened his mouth to reply, you knew he was going to say that it was true and he didn't do anything special, so you beat him to it.

“For starters, you're here with me instead of out with our friends,” you pointed out. You didn't even open your eyes, instead simply listing all the reasons why he made you fall in love with him every day, all over again. “You made me tea even if I hadn't asked for it. You rub my aching belly. And you brought me Elain's cookies.”

“I just want to take care of you,” he said. His tone was soft, and he sounded as if he was defending himself and his choices. He really didn't see what was special about it. “And I know how much you like her cookies.”

You sighed quietly. You picked up a cookie, but even though you loved them, you didn't feel like eating anything right now. You'd save them for later, when the cramps would hopefully relent. So you offered it to him without a word.

Azriel took it, brows furrowed. “You want me to feed you?”

Your quiet chuckle was interrupted by a twinge of pain deep in your core, and you quickly disguised it by saying, “I want you to have it.”

He shook his head and handed the cookie back to you. “They're for you.”

“The others are for me. That one is for you.” You didn't even touch it, opting to simply sip from your mug again. “It's how bonds are accepted.”

“We accepted the bond years ago,” he mused. He didn't take a bite, instead waiting to see where you were going with this.

“I know.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look him in the eye. He was beautiful, and he was yours. Your love and your home. Your mate. Just as you were his. You knew he considered himself lucky to be with you, but he never realized you were the lucky one.

“Every day, I am beyond grateful that the Mother blessed me with you as my mate,” you murmured. A sudden lump formed in your throat, and you weren't sure if the tears prickling your eyes were caused by the hormones or the depth of your feelings for him. “And I want you to eat that cookie. Because I want you to know that I would choose you in every life, no matter what.”

Azriel was silent for a long moment, but you could see the swirling emotions in his hazel eyes. The love and care, the vulnerability he showed only to you. He slowly lifted the cookie to his lips and took a small bite, his eyes never leaving yours, your ache momentarily forgotten.

“I would choose you in every life too,” he said softly. “I would find you, and I would love you. In every life, every world.”

When you kissed again, the bond between your souls glowed stronger and brighter.

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch

Azriel Week: @fourthwing4ever

[c0ffeejelly1]

You can’t just say things like that!..

-Bros the type of guy to hug you from behind and whisper that one soft sorry in your ear (ESPECIALLY WITH THE WHOLE ‘sorry baby..’ AGRHHH)

Cw: none.

* You were really ticked off at him.

* You knew he was fully aware of his mistake, so why was he pretending he didn’t have a clue?

* His attempt to play innocent just made you even angrier. He was clearly in the wrong.. he had to have been aware of that.

* And to think he had the audacity, the nerve to lounge on the couch with that sour expression, eyebrows knitted together, staring off like he was the one suffering? Ha!

* It just made you chop the vegetables you were going to cook even harder with the knife.

* It was pathetic. You could only think to laugh mockingly at the scene.

* …Seriously. was this his way of trying to gaslight you?

* As if that was going to work.

* You were way above that.

* You knew better than that.

* That was until you heard the creaking of floorboards and soft footsteps behind you.

* It was funny how he could seem so small despite his size…

* But still you totally played it cool and ignored him.

* Until you felt the soft embrace of arms wrapping around your waist, his chin sat in the crest between your neck and shoulder, and slow breathes tickling your ear each time his chest would rise and fall.

* For a brief moment, you felt a wave of tension wash over you, but you quickly shook it off, determined to seem unfazed.

* You were meant to be upset with him.

* …Yet, the way he held you so tenderly, as if you were his most treasured possession, made you want to both punch and kiss that infuriating face of his.

* You feel him sigh deeply his nose brushing against your shoulder before pressing light kisses to the skin.

* Was he trying to seduce you?

* Didn’t he realize how angry you were? You were practically seething!.. right? At least you think you were.

* once again though, you found yourself tensing when he whispered something that could make any woman weak in the knees..

* “..I’m sorry baby..”

* Lord have mercy.

* You turned to face him, finally getting a clear view of his face, causing him to pull his hands away from your waist and shove them into his sweatpants pockets.

* You couldn’t help but gulp a little at the adorable, puppy-like look he had; it really suited his handsome features…

* But you had to keep your cool.

* So, you crossed your arms and rolled your eyes before asking…

* “Sorry for what exactly?…”

* You wanted to hear him say it.

* Otherwise what was the purpose of even apologising?

* He only looked at you with a small pout on his face before placing both his hands gently on your cheek, a new sense of determination shining in his eyes even with his now flustered face.

* “What are you-..”

* He unexpectedly cut you off, catching you by surprise as his lips met yours

* You didn’t know how to react at first, but it was clear that the kiss was short because once he pulled back, the significance of the moment hit you.

* He gently brushed your lips, keeping his eyes locked on yours, a dusty pink scattered on his cheeks, before he spoke again.

* “..Everything..? I dunno…please just forgive me…”

* At this stage, did it even matter?

* If you were going to be honest with yourself, you had already moved on…

* Yet, watching him be all sweet and eager for your forgiveness? …It totally tugged at your heartstrings.

* A small grin appeared on your face before you leaned in for another kiss, the warmth of the moment enveloping you like a soft blanket.

* You pulled back slightly, your eyes locking with his, searching for the same warmth reflected in his gaze.

* “If I’m being honest...I’m not really mad at you anymore.”

* The corners of his mouth curled into a smile, mirroring your own, as you felt another flutter in your chest before he wrapped his arms around you, inhaling your fragrance, pulling you into another embrace.

* He felt a wave of relief knowing you had forgiven him..

* Still, one thought kept nagging at him.

* “Hey..babe?”

* “Mm?”

* “So…why were you really angry to begin with?”

* “You mean you really don’t know?”

* You lean back a bit from the hug a small pout on your face, your hands resting on his chest while his arms stayed snug around your waist.

* “You ate the remaining takeout I was saving for myself..”

* “..seriously.”

Characters I had in mind while writing this:

REIGEN (mob psycho 100)

Saitama (one punch man)

Josuke (JOJO’S bizarre adventure)

Kagami, KISE (kuroko’s basketball)

AREN (the disastrous life of saiki k)

HINATA, BOKUTO, Kageyama, OIKAWA, Ukai, Dachi, Atsumu, Lev (haikyuu)

YUJI, choso (jujustu kaisen)

REINER, Eren, Jean (Attack on titan)

LEORIO (hunterXhunter)

- any character you would like

[anni1309-blog]

please more step brother smut with felix. it was amazing !:)

that’s so kind of you to say, thank you <3

here you go 🎀

felix catton! stepbrother x reader

warnings: smut, face-fucking, slight size kink, semi public

summary : felix is stressed out during exam season and needs relief

felix and you were like royalty at oxford. it’s not like felix’s family lineage isn’t royal anyways. they were always surrounded by a small crowd. some might even call them admirers. it wasn’t hard to love them, always kind and friendly, charming everyone with their beautiful looks.

when someone was looking for felix, you weren’t far either. this was felix’s way to protect and show his love for you. you two weren’t siblings by blood, but that didn’t stop felix from taking care of his baby sister.

sometimes gossip was heard about your close proximity to felix. you would admit that your relationship is definitely closer than most normal stepsiblings might be but your love fell so deep for each other you wouldn’t have it any other way.

lately though, felix grew a little more distant. you knew that the exams were getting to him, he was always so determined. you would only see him when at night he would sneak you into his dorm, pulling a blanket over you while holding you close and softly stroking your hair while you would cling onto him placing your head on his chest. you missed him, more than you would admit. his heart broke knowing he had less time for you, he yearned for your touch, your giggle and your adorable smile when you sat in his lap during break. but he couldn’t have any distractions from studying.

when you woke up the bed was empty. this was your breaking point. felix would normally wake you up to give you a little kiss goodbye or at least leave a note. there was none of this today. you bursted out in tears and started sobbing uncontrollably. when you calmed down a bit, you got ready to face felix to pour out your heart. putting on makeup was no use to your red and puffy eyes from crying.

you made your way to the library, which was almost empty since it was still very early in the morning. you found felix sitting in the back, surrounded by books writing down notes.

he looked up “good morning baby, did you have a good-“ he stopped, his initial reaction was that he was happy to see you but his eyebrows furrowed when he saw your distressed expression. he knew he had to make time for you now, so he wordlessly scooted his chair back and opened his arms for you to sit on his lap. you took a seat there and clung to him tightly, which he returned.

“lix, you were gone this morning, and I was all alone, I don’t even see you that often anymore, I- I just miss you so much” you sniff slightly as big tears fall from your eyes.

“shhhh, I know sweetheart, I hate it too, but you know how it is, I’m just very stressed right now” he pulls you close rubbing you back softly cooing quietly for you to calm down a bit, takes your face in his hands as he wipes away your tears with his thumb. he hates seeing his girl like this, it upset him deeply.

felix took your chin between his fingers to tilt you head upwards to slowly capture your lips. this wasn’t new to you two, he kissed you often, also in public, he knew it made you feel safe.

“lix? would it be okay for me to try something to relieve your stress a bit?” your big eyes looked up at him with a small smile as you relaxed a bit.

“sure princess, I’d love that but what do you want t-“ his words got stuck in his throat when you slowly dropped to your knees, already trying to fumble at his belt, opening it.

felix was almost shocked at your plan but obviously wasn’t appalled by your idea. none of you cared that you were in public, people wouldn’t come by until later in the day. your nimble fingers pulled the zipper of his pants down slowly, your lips parting and mouth salivating in anticipation.

he caressed your cheek with his thumb looking down at you with soft but hungry eyes, signaling that you could do whatever you felt comfortable with. as you continue undressing his pants his fingers were back at your face, his thumb brushing over your wet bottom lip and pushed his digit past your lips and into your mouth, and you sucked greedily.

you slowly pulled his already hardening cock from his underwear, giving his tip soft kitten licks to which he threw back his head in pleasure, brushing your hair, slightly buckling his hips towards your mouth

“you can use my mouth lix, I can handle it, I promise” lapping at his slit and batting your eyelashes up at him innocently.

“you’re gonna be the death of me, doll” he groans at your invitation and didn't waste a second to shove his cock into your mouth, pushing your head down his impressive length.

gurgling and gagging you looked up at him for reassurance that your were doing fine, he slowly started moving his hips, fucking your mouth.

“such a good doll, doing so good f’me” he praised in a deep voice. your doe eyes just looked at him, tears escaping them as he kept diving himself into you thrusting in and out of your mouth quickly and desperately as you moaned around him.

he shifted his hips forward so you could take him further down your throat “such a tiny mouth, taking all of me hm?” he grinned proudly his other hand cupping your jaw and holding your mouth open for him as you choked around him, saliva escaping your mouth.

“you can take it, hm? my good little angel” he grunts looking down at your face tears just streaming down your face now. you hummed happily, the vibrations sending a shock through him that made him twitch and ram his hips forward into your mouth harshly.

“gonna come in your mouth okay doll? you’re gonna be a good girl and swallow it all right?” taking out his dick for you to answer and traced your glossy lips with his tip, your tongue darted out to flick over it and relish in his salty taste as you looked up giving him affirmative nods.

his thrusts became more frantic, feeling close, he lets out a long, gutteral moan, holding your head there as he thrust his hips up feeling your nose press against his pelvis, cumming down your throat.

“I know it’s a lot, be strong,” he groaned as he continued to spout cum, it was so much you thought you might bloat but swallowed all as he pulled off, you were coughing at bit.

you looked wrecked but smiled up at him proudly as he leaned down to kiss your lips softly taking your face in his big hands to admire you.

“what would I do without my favorite girl?”

[killerpancakeburger]

PULL ME CLOSER

SUMMARY: After a mission gone wrong, Soap narrowly cheats death. When visiting him in his hospital bed, overwhelming relief emboldens you, making you do something you regret. So you flee, resolved to avoid Sergeant MacTavish until the end of your days. 

But Johnny is done letting you slip through his fingers.

Part 1. Part 2.

PAIRING: Soap x f!Reader (reader has boobs, that's it)

TAGS: A pinch of angst, then tooth rotting fluff, Civilian!Reader, Anxious!Reader, Depressed!Reader, inexperienced!Reader, Desperate!Soap, Soft!Soap, mutual pining, first kiss, confessions, dirty talk, making out. Bit of a chase, but it's fluffy. Protective!Ghost bordering on controlling but he works on it. Swears, blood mention, injuries, miilitary inaccuracies, suggestive content.

WORDS COUNT: 5.6k

A/N: aaaAAAH F I N A L L Y! ITS KISSING TIME BABEYYY 💋 For @glitterypirateduck COD Vacation Mode challenge, prompts 32 with Ghost and 58 with Soap.

"Hey author, this is Soap x Reader, why is Ghost there...?" Because he just! Won't! Leave! 🙃 *you can now picture me trying to push him out of the room with all my meager strength but he doesn't budge an inch* 

As you pace around the office for the umpteenth time, you can tell from the glint in Ghost's eyes that he's seconds away from telling you to take a seat and stop writhing uselessly. 

When did you become so accustomed to the taciturn Lieutenant's expressions - or more accurately, lack of -, that you could figure out what was going on behind the mask? You couldn’t remember.

He's been keeping his gaze on you since you've sat down after learning the harrowing news; or, more exactly, since he's sat down and you've been fidgeting relentlessly.

You're feeling like a shark - to stop moving won't kill you, but it will cause the whole world to come crashing down. It will allow reality to become clearer, sharper, inescapable.

The arrival of Price in the room captures his lieutenant's attention before he can scold you. Gaz follows close behind. He offers you a reassuring smile before his captain addresses you.

“He's going to make it.”

Relief overwhelms you with just those five words; a colossal wave close to sending you tumbling down. Ghost's mask fails to hide his own calming.

Price sets his hands on his hips. His voice is gruffed but composed.

“All he needs now is rest… and some blood.”

“I'll do it,” you blurt out resolutely, taking a step towards your boss.

“No,” snarls Ghost, tone adamant.

You snap around to stare at him in shock and disbelief. He never raised his voice at you before. And, most importantly, he never tried to dictate your behavior. 

“Who do you think you are?! I'm not one of your fucking recruits-”

Price loudly coughs in his fist.

“Easy there.” 

He raises both hands in appeasement. “We don’t even know if you're compatible.”

“I'm a universal donor,” you counter immediately, determination unaltered.

“Course ya are,” scoffs Ghost derisively.

You glare at him with open animosity. What the fuck is wrong with him!?

“What is that even supposed to mean!?”

You throw your arms up in irritation.

“Enough! Both of you.”

John's tone extinguishes your shout with redoubtable efficiency. He's already not someone you would dare cross on casual days, but hearing him raise his voice makes you sheepish.

Nonetheless, you turn towards him, outraged and betrayed. "Both"!? Why both!? I'm not the one being an asshole for no reason!

“You've done this before?” the captain asks, looking at you.

You nod vigorously.

He indicates the door with his chin.

“Fine, then. Go see the nurses to set you up.”

You bolt out of the room without further ado, determined to not let Ghost get another word in. But you can still hear one last sentence as you hasten.

“As for you, Simon…It is none of your business.”

Giving blood has never been a walk in the park. Every time, you have to actively handle your nerves; resort to trusty relaxation methods, such as focusing on your breathing, or counting the tiles on the ceiling.

The stab of the needle is unpleasant, to say the least, but the wait between the jab and the removal is almost as challenging.

Nonetheless, you've done this before, you succeeded, and for Johnny, you'd be willing to do it for hours.

Power of will doesn't compensate blood loss however, and when you get up from the bed, you feel dizzy, your bandaged arm sore and stiff. The idea of meeting with Soap shortly helps you power through, and soon enough you’re sitting at a table in the canteen, empty at this hour of the day, stuffing your face with whatever snacks and drinks have been put aside to aid your recovery.

With nothing but concern for Johnny busying your mind, you end up eavesdropping on a couple of nearby cafeteria employees.

“You think that's really him?”

“Ain't that many guys going around with a skull mask.”

“I heard he killed a man with only a pen…”

Your eyes widen at the mention of a mask, and you groan in annoyance before turning around to see where the staff is looking.

Near the entrance, casually leaning against the wall, arms crossed, Ghost is watching over you like an overzealous bodyguard. He finally swapped his mission outfit for his trademark black hoodie and grey sweatpants. 

Exasperation flashes through you and you proceed to fling at him a cake wrapped in plastic. Your aim's never been anything to be proud of, but he's large enough that you manage to brush his shoulder.

“Get away from me, you creep!” you yell loud enough to be heard by him.

He gives you an inscrutable gaze before leaving the room, probably settling right on the other side of the door, not one to admit defeat so easily.

Minutes later, you leave the room to visit Soap, and observe with spiteful satisfaction that you were right - Ghost adopted the same position as before, against the corridor's wall. You glower at him as you pass by, and of course he remains unfazed.

You scoff with irritation before deciding to ignore him and focus on Johnny, accelerating the pace.

“Wait.”

You halt with a vexed sigh.

“If you intend to berate me again, I'm not gonna stand there and take it.”

“I know what you’re doing.”

You pivot to face him, exasperated by his sibylline remarks. He moved away from the wall and approached you while you had your back on him.

“Once again, what is that even supposed to mean?”

His cryptic attitude makes your blood boil with anger, one that could almost mask the feelings of hurt and betrayal he begets inside you. At some point, you've genuinely started to believe that you two became some kind of friends. Turns out that you've been naively imagining things this whole time.

“The whole self-sacrificing bullshit.”

You stare in incomprehension, searching his concealed features vainly for a clue, wishing you could rip that stupid mask off his face.

“I'm not sacrificing myself. It's just a bit of blood.”

He crosses his arms.

“We have stocks for that. And it's not just that. When he got into trouble with Price for making you skip work, you tried to take all the blame.”

“He did it to cheer me up-”

He keeps talking like you didn’t intervene.

“And when he pummeled that officer, you pretended it was all your fault.”

“I-”

“Luckily for you, Price's no sucker.”

You wince with distress.

“I just wanted to help. I hate being… feeling useless.”

“That's my problem. I swear it feels like you’d slash your own wrists if you thought it would ‘help’.”

You grimace but do not contradict him. It's actually kind of scary how much he figured you out.

“Let him take responsibility for his actions. He may look impulsive most of the time, but he knows what he's doing.”

Arms folded, you gaze fixedly at the floor in silence, not knowing what to add.

“I’m sorry.”

He talked loud enough to be understood, but the content of his sentence makes you doubt what he said as much as if he whispered. You stare at him with wide eyes, speechless. It's not that you categorically believe Ghost incapable of self-reflection, but at the same time, he's always striked you more as the type to never admit any weakness - except maybe in front of a trusted superior and longtime friend like Price.

“Shouldn't have tried to boss you around. Only made things worse. What happened with Johnny… made me…”

He acts like articulating an apology out loud has on him the effect of enthusiastically biting into a lemon - an irresistible temptation to annoy him emerges inside you. No harm in a little well-deserved payback.

“On edge? Touchy? Cranky? Irrita-”

“That'll do. Go, now.”

You turn away with an amused smile on your lips.

Witnessing the wounded sergeant in a hospital's bed is like a punch to the stomach. Maybe an actual punch would be more merciful.

Inside you, gratitude for his miraculous survival battles against sorrow caused by his pitiful state. An impressive bandage is wrapped around his head, one arm secured in a cast, the other bearing a couple of compresses. His face is littered with scratches and contusions.

When he notices you, frozen on the threshold, he beams.

“How's my little firecracker doing?”

That nickname. That damn nickname. He started using it after he caught you red-handed giving the middle finger to a rude officer who was leaving your office just as Soap was entering it. You tolerated it until you realized it was a reference to his love of explosions and all things blow-able, which made you ridiculously pleased, yet self-conscious all at once.

Your legs were already unsteady, so the complimentary alias almost finished you off. 

“That's my line, you Scottish bastard.” you retort, voice devoid of hostility despite the insult.

Closing the gap between you two with a few strides, you stop at what you consider a respectable distance.

“Why, I'm alive and kicking. No need fer ye to look so dejected.”

You scoff, both annoyed and moved by the attempt to console you. It's unbearable to see him so shattered and yet so upbeat, while you don't have a scratch but came so close to breaking down.

“I hate you,” you mumble.

“Ye love me.”

If you only knew… you wouldn’t dare to joke like that.

You smile ruefully, despite yourself.

“I'm serious. For a moment I…I really thought you… you weren't going to… shit.”

You furiously blink to get rid of the rising tears stinging your eyes, looking away shamefully.

“Hey, hey, hey, c'mere.”

He pats one side of the bed with his free hand invitingly. You obey, positioning yourself near the mattress close enough to touch. He grabs one of your hands and gently squeezes it.

“M sorry.” 

His tone is gruff, maybe a bit abashed. A pang of culpability pierces your heart. 

“What could you be sorry for? You were doing your job. I need to get over it.”

You’re not mine to lose.

“Fer makin’ ye cry. I hate it.”

Why does he have to be so kind?

You persist in trying to prove that you’re the one in the wrong here, not him.

“I shouldn't be crying. You’re the one who went through hell.”

He snorts.

“What's so funny?”

“Not funny, just… Ye didn’t even shed a tear when that bastard jumped ye the other day. Yet here ye are, crying over my sorry arse. Yer somethin’ else.”

The compliment takes you aback, and as his eyes sparkle with nothing but honesty, you fiddle with the bandage you received from the blood donation in a desperate effort to collect yourself.

“What’s that? Ye hurt?”

The concern in his voice warms your heart, even if it is unnecessary.

Soap rises from his pillow to some extent, pain obvious in his restricted movements. You react immediately, clicking your tongue in disapproval. Before you can think twice about it, you set your hand between his pecs and push him back, careful to not harm him, but firm.

“I didn't give you my blood just so you could spill it right away!”

He shouldn't be so easy to put back into his place, even with his wounds. Yet he goes down smoothly, docile under your imperious touch as if he was the unassuming civilian and you the imposing soldier.

His eyes linger on your hand before setting on you, the intensity and the heat of his gaze taking your breath away. His expression is one of surprise, but not of annoyance or revulsion, or at least that's what you hope from what you can read on his face.

Sinking into the lagoons of his eyes, you stare back in a daze. You can feel the rhythmic motions of his well-defined chest under your palm, rising and lowering as he breathes. Suddenly the contact becomes intolerable as your cheeks catch fire. You begin to withdraw but he grabs you just in time.

“Ye gave me yer blood?”

The urgency in his tone takes you by surprise, and so does his expression, one that's contemplating you like you've just announced that you've run in front of a truck for him.

“Price said you needed it-”

“Yer. Blood. We have a stock fer that!”

“I know, I just- I was there and I wanted to do something.”

“And they just let ye?”

“I asked real nicely.”

“Would have liked to see that.”

There's a challenging spark in his eye that you choose to ignore.

“It's just blood,” you mumble, shying away from his gaze, embarrassed by his reaction. You didn’t do this in the hopes that he would express eternal gratitude, nor that he'd be admiring of you.

“It will reconstitute on its own.”

He scoffs, unconvinced. Yet he doesn't sound too mad. There's a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and he's looking at you like you hung the moon.

“Let's talk less about me, and more about you, ok? How are you feeling?”

“Parched,” he retorts while reaching for the water bottle on the nearby tray table.

Of course he's not expanding further. Johnny's the kind to dramatically whine over a paper cut for fun but somehow when it comes to serious, life-threatening injuries, he becomes stoically reserved, almost stingy with words.

You almost throw yourself at the bottle when you notice the slight wince of pain in the line of his mouth - despite his efforts to conceal it - and hand it over to him.

“Just ask me if you need something.”

“Oh bonnie, ye dunnae know what yer getting yerself into with promises like that.”

You openly roll your eyes. If he can make that sort of comment, surely he's not in that much pain after all.

“Let me guess: you’re gonna ask me to kiss your boo boos better.”

You regret your jibe the second you finish talking. You were supposed to only think those words, not pronounce them. He's the gorgeous individual who can take the liberty of flirting with anyone, but you… you’re not.

His only reaction is a chuckle.

“Hmm, what if ah did? Ask fer a kiss?”

His tone is provocative, his pout sultry and his eyes pleading.

You stare at him in thoughtful silence, cogitating your answer. 

He misinterprets your lack of response, and backpedals, stuttering while doing so. He starts to apologize, plainly, apparently convinced he went too far, ashamed by his own conduct.

You let him stew in his embarrassment a bit, not out of sadism but curiosity, rarely being granted the opportunity to see him so insecure.

This could be the chance to put an end to his flirting for good. The chance you've been waiting for. It's what you should do.

But there's a part of you that is fed up. Fed up of this pretty man and his pretty words, of this blue-eyed casanova that must see you as another conquest and nothing more. You’re sick of passively enduring his quips, his seduction, his winks, his smirks. So yes, you could ask him to stop.

Or you could give him a test of his own medicine.

Lifting his hand towards your face, you lock eyes with him to be certain he's watching, then tenderly press your lips to each of his scarred knuckles.

The ensuing quiet is deafening.

He half-opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. You never saw him so flustered. Is he… is he blushing?

Somehow, seeing his flush sets your own face on fire. The reality of what you’ve just done hits you like a freight train.

Panic surging inside you, you deal with the situation the way you know best when no other solution comes to mind - you flee. Pretending you don't hear Soap calling after you, you scramble out of the bedroom like the devil's on your heels. Ghost, settled on a chair in the hallway, throws you the closest thing he must have to a bewildered gaze in his repertoire as you storm off by him, gaze that you ignore vehemently.

The following weeks are spent visiting Soap only when he's asleep. Kyle is nice enough to let you know when that's the case. You can tell by the interrogative way he looks at you that a bunch of questions rush on the tip of his tongue: what happened, why are you not simply seeing his teammate when he's awake with the rest of them. But he's either kind or polite enough to not formulate his concerns out loud. Or maybe he thinks it's a private matter between the two of you.

Either way, you’re grateful, and you repay the favor any time you can, filling the break room with his favorite snacks, making him tea or ensuring his gear gets maintained first.

At some point Ghost half complains to you, half reprimands you - since Soap is one part of his current problem and you another.

“Fuckin’ hell, never been easy keepin’ Johnny in medical, but since ya visited him he's worse than ever. Care to explain?”

“I fucked up,” you confess, without adding anything else.

“Fucked up how?”

“I can’t tell you.”

He curses loudly, dragging a gloved hand over his face, appalled by your demeanor.

“Why the fuck not?”

“I'm taking my secret to the grave. All I can tell is that I made an absolute fool of myself, and therefore I can never appear in front of Johnny again.”

He half sighs, half groans, and rolls his eyes before pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You dramatic little…”

Soap eventually gets released from medical.

You spend a couple of weeks avoiding him to the best of your abilities, even though you can tell that Ghost is frankly sick of your antics, Price is five minutes away from berating you, and even Gaz starts to look at you with something that resembles disappointment. 

You actively despise yourself for ruining a perfectly good friendship. Especially because of a five seconds long action decided on a whim and carried out out of spite. You find yourself on the edge of tears a couple of times, yet unable to cry. Familiar rooms and corridors feel empty and awkwardly silent with his absence.

There are a bunch of close calls, and the base, or at least the part of it that you’re accustomed to, suddenly feels cramped.

But you hold on. 

Until you don't.

You're caught completely unaware, entering the break room as usual to get some coffee.

Only to freeze on the doorstep. Johnny's right there. Barely two meters away. It's the first time you lay eyes on him in what feels like forever. You can’t help but drink in the view.

He's sitting at a table, elbow leaning on it, cheek resting on his closed fist. Your eyes linger over the blue cobalt shirt he's wearing, your favorite of his, and his black fingerless gloves, which you've always had a weakness for. The corner of his lips are down, his eyebrows lightly frowned. Staring into space, he seems sullen.

Your heart tightens at the sight.

However you barely get the opportunity to indulge into your guilt, because next thing you know, your gazes meet. He perks up, eyes widening in surprise. You tense like a deer in the headlights, holding your breath. Dread swells inside you. You’re no braver than last time.

You turn around and decamp.

It's fine, you can come back later. You just need to unearth a hiding spot for now. The object of your affliction - on top of your affection - will probably be vexed enough by your reaction that he won't seek to confront you.

Yes, everything is just fine, you assure yourself - for no more than a handful of seconds.

Without warning, brawny, familiar arms close around your shoulders from behind, pinning your back against a muscular torso.

“Gotcha.”

The word is barely above a whisper, more a growl than anything else, enunciated right into your ear, sending shivers all over your body. You don’t find anything to do but clutch with both hands one of the tanned forearms pressed beneath your collarbone.

Fighting him off doesn't even cross your mind. It's not that you think you'd fail - you trust him to let you go at the first stern summon. You just don't want to forgo his embrace. He hasn’t hugged you since that time you've been mugged and one moment was enough to make you realize how much you’ve missed it.

“Dunnae whether to be upset ye ran away again, or to find it cute that ye thought ye could actually outrun me.”

You gulp, heart pounding and cheeks heating up.

“Johnny…”

A host of pitiful excuses accumulates behind your lips, but somehow none manage to make its way out.

He briefly tightens his hold, but the gesture feels more like a hug than a restraint. Did he… did he just squish you? Like some kind of… cuddle toy?

“Got nothin’ to tell me?”

The question is a taunt as much as a hint at reconciliation.

You try to pace yourself, and think logically about this predicament of your own making. You need to devise a strategy to come out - more or less - unscathed of this.

Soap sounds more smug than mad, but still, passably angry. Maybe there's a way to fix this. Be friends again like nothing happened. Maybe he can forgive you.

First, do not worsen things.

Two, apologize. Properly.

Three, keep your fingers crossed …?

“I'm… sorry?”

He chuckles darkly.

“Gonnae take more than that.”

You try to resist the effects this sentence, his husky voice, his proximity, his laugh have on you, the way they make your stomach twist in apprehension and… indisputable arousal. Resist the temptation to close your eyes so you could focus on his voice alone, on the warm breath brushing your skin, on the lips so close to your ear; to let go in his arms, lean with your whole weight on his body.

Focus, damn it, you admonish and beg yourself all at once. On something else. Anything else.

You’re about to argue that he cannot possibly expect you to succeed in making amends when you’re in this compromising position, but you don't get the time.

Johnny hauls you away inside the nearest room. In a split second, he flicked the lightswitch on and nearly slammed the door behind you.

Cleaning products and exiguity surround you, illuminated by a cheap light bulb.

A closet, helpfully supplies your mind. 

You barely have time to digest this information that Soap cages you against the wall, resting his forearms over your head. He contemplates you with a mix of melancholy and longing that renders your knees weak and sends a pang in your chest.

“Been going bloody mad with thoughts of ye.”

His voice is smooth like silk, tone sweet like honey, caressing your ears, warmth dripping inside your chest, making your head spin; or maybe it's a result of his closeness; or a consequence of his cerulean eyes boring into you.

“Ye got any idea how it felt to see ye leave without being able to do a bloody thing ‘bout it? Wanted nothing more than to rip off the tubes, get up, grab ye and lay back in bed with ye in my arms.”

He's intoxicating. He has to be, with how high, euphoric you're feeling, all your problems swept away, insignificant.

“Tell me to fuck off.”

You blink in incomprehension. Drunk on him, you may have lost track a little.

“I'll back off fer good.” 

Bliss makes way to horror.

“Look me in the eye and tell me ye hate me. Tell me I disgust ye. Tell me ye wish ye never met m-”

“No!”

Your shout has the merit to make him stop, even if you didn’t mean to yell. Your scream disconcerts him for a second before an exultant grin stretches his lips. His smugness is back with a vengeance.

“So ye do like me.”

“How could I not,” you mutter, capitulating, but avoiding his gaze.

He refuses to let you, and cups one side of your face to make you look at him. As you meet his eyes again, his thumb tenderly strokes your cheekbone. You feel your insides melt at the gesture.

“I like ye. A lot.”

He licks his lips, as if to grant himself some time to mull over his next words, and you automatically follow the motion.

“And I want to kiss ye. A lot.”

His hand slides from your cheek to your chin, slightly tilting your head back.

“Can I?”

It takes a moment for you to regain your voice. When you woke up this morning, you most definitely didn’t expect to receive a confession from John Mactavish. Your brain goes into overdrive.

Is this real? Am I dreaming?

“Johnny, listen…”

The gaze he's aiming at you glows with hope.

“You don’t want to be with me. I'm…” 

What? A shell of a human being? Broken?

“…a mess.”

Expectation is replaced by resolve in his turquoise pupils.

“I know exactly what I want. And it's ye. Wouldn't be here otherwise.”

His patience seems to unravel with each passing second, as he stares at you with something akin to desperation written on his face.

“Want me to beg? S’that it?”

“What? No-”

“Cause I can. Beg real pretty. Bet ye'd like that. Saw how ye looked at me the other day when I got on my knees for ye-”

He keeps babbling sweet and filthy nothings that set your face ablaze. He saw how you looked at him? Mortification briefly flares up inside you before you notice the amusement in the corner of his lips, the playful glimmer in his glance, tangled with the neediness - he's joking around. You adopt a stern expression to chasten him but quickly realize he's way too busy staring at your lips to get the message. So you grab both sides of his face to get his attention - two can play this game.

The sheepish, sad puppy face he gives you in return barely makes a notch in your firmness. You take a deep breath to steady yourself, right before diving into the unknown.

“Yes,” you profess - and before he can tease you for clarification - “You can kiss me.”

But as he leans forward to obey, an incriminating detail surfaces in your mind.

“Wait, wait…”

You cover his mouth with one hand. Then immediately regret it, with how his eyes devour you the way his mouth can’t, not helping your flustered state at all.

He gently grabs your wrist and removes your hand, before pressing a kiss into your palm, your wrist.

“Now, better say something, or I'm gonna kiss my way up.”

He hums pensively.

“Scratch that, I'm gonna kiss ye everywhere.”

Pleasant tingles travel your whole body at that. He looks up from your hand to stare at you, and there's a devious glint in his eyes that tells you he caught sight of it.

“I have never.. done this… before.”

This confession means a lot to you. It's a well-kept secret, as long as people don't already deduce it from your lack of social skills. You’d rather it stays this way, but you don't see how you can start a relationship while withholding this truth.

All you can hope now is that Soap will react in a manner you consider appropriate. If he judges you, if that fact makes you go down in his estimation, or if he starts seeing you as some sort of innocent, naive individual that he could get off on corrupting, you’re not sure you'll be able to recover from it.

All playfulness deserts his face. He observes you with a mix of solemnity and compassion.

“Oh, bonnie… I don't give a shite ‘bout that. We'll go as slow or as fast as ye want, aye?”

Stirred beyond words, you nod your assent.

Not wasting any more time, he presses his lips to yours. They're soft and warm. You expected a surge of unbridled desire, but he takes his sweet time with you, to become acquainted with your mouth. 

It only lasts a moment though; as he seems to gain in confidence and deepens the kiss, his motions fill with fervor, turn frantic. Hunger rivals devotion.

They say the greatest pleasure possible a human being can experience isn’t, well, pleasure; it's the end of pain - and he's kissing you like he's been aching for it, for so long, and he's finally getting relief. He's clinging onto you like the separation of those past weeks put him in severe withdrawal.

You probably would have let him continue if you weren't compelled by the imperative need to breathe. You turn away, panting.

Not interrupted in the slightest, he simply latches onto your neck instead.

Floating in a daze, you absently close one hand on the back of his shirt, and fondle his mohawk with the other.

“Hold on to me.”

The instruction takes a ridiculously long time to reach you. Thankfully, Soap picks up on that and grasps your hands to place them on the back of his neck. You only understand his goal when his fingers slide behind your thighs and he lifts you up effortlessly, wedging you between the wall and himself.

Once he gets his fill of your throat, he sneaks one forearm under your rear and lets go of one of your thigh, somehow managing to keep you in the air one-armed, to tug at the opening of your top.

Seeing him struggle to open your blouse one-handed, you reach down to assist; but just as you do that, he grabs one side of the clothing between his teeth, and pulling the other with his free hand, he rips off the first three snap fasteners in one go. Your eyes go wide, your mind torn between finding the gesture arousing or risible. 

You settle for a fond scoff.

“You animal.”

The name feels all the more appropriate because when he looks up at you, releasing the cloth, the hunger in his eyes is striking, and the wolfish grin he grants you is the one of a ravenous predator.

“You could have just asked-”

“S'faster,” he shrugs, at least as much as possible in his current position.

You barely notice the staple of your bra opening; he hauls you slightly higher, bringing your chest to mouth level, and dives between your breasts like a man starved. The contact makes you tilt your head back against the wall, sighing in pleasure. The sensation of his lips and tongue against your sensitive skin makes you coil: your fingers grasp the back of his shirt and his hair, pressing his head impossibly closer, your thighs clench around his torso, your toes curl.

“Fuck, Johnny.”

He moans your name in response, albeit a bit muffled. He sounds as afflicted as you are, if not more. The idea turns you on terribly.

You look down to see him, and the vision of his face feverishly pressed to your skin is almost unbearable.

Suddenly he recoils, eyes meeting yours, and opens his mouth to stick his tongue out, right in front of your nipple, holding still in silent question. Your crotch throbs with arousal and you bitterly regret your earlier assessment - this view is much harder to endure, by far. The deep, honest eagerness in his gaze, coupled with the absolute submission to your will he demonstrates…

That doesn't stop you from frenetically nodding your head in agreement. His lips close around your nipple and the flick of his tongue against it draws a whine out of you. His free hand softly squeeze your other breast.

If he wasn’t holding you, your legs probably would have given out.

A faraway ringtone painfully pierces through the torpor you’re deliciously lost in. Your ringtone.

Johnny swears under his breath and blindly gropes your ass to silence your phone lodged in your back pocket.

Your eyes snap open in horror as you abruptly emerge into reality.

“Shit, shit, SHIT! Put me down!”

You repeatly hit Soap's shoulders to get his attention and convey urgency, without putting real force behind it. He complies immediately.

Your soles barely reached the ground that you’re already whiping out the device from your pants. Your coworker's name is displayed on the screen. Turning your back on Johnny, you pick up the call in a panic.

“Hey… yes. Yes, I'll be there in a minute. …They're not here yet? Thank fuck.” 

As you sheepishly reassure your colleague that you’ll be there soon for the meeting that should have already started, you feel fingers fiddling with your blouse. Your first instinct is to bat Johnny's hands away, before grasping that he's actually putting your snaps back in place.

“Hm? Oh no, nothing bad. … I, uh… I just got held back. Anyway, see you soon.”

You hang up with shaky hands and a weary but relieved sigh.

The Scotsman's arms wrap around your waist from behind and he lovingly nuzzles his face against yours. His stubble prickles your skin, but the gesture is too endearing for you to spurn him.

“No more running away, aye?”

He exudes peacefulness, every muscle in his body content and relaxed. Where did Ghost's vicious attack dog go and who's this teddy bear?

“No more running,” you acquiesce.

“Good lass,” he purrs.

Normally, you would have gotten back at him for that patronizing comment, but you still feel bad for the way you treated him, so you just grunt.

“We'll pick up where we left off, hmm?”

Your cheeks burn furiously as you realize what he's referring to - his kisses wandering lower, to fulfill the “everywhere” part of the pledge he made earlier.

What the hell did you get yourself into?

[hier--soir]

take your medicine

pre-outbreak joel miller x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: *tv sales advert voice* so you've been finding it hard to reach orgasm? lucky for you, our best-selling item "hunky boyfriend joel" is on sale at half price. shipping is free, and he is very determined to help you achieve your goals! call the number on your screen to buy now! OR your medication makes it difficult to orgasm so joel (and your vibrator) help make it happen. warnings/tags: set in the early 2000s aka early thirties joel my lover boyyyy, boyfriend joel, depression [nothing dark or sad], anti-depressants, brief discussion of food/eating, cigarette smoking [f], soft!supportive!joel, mentions of masturbation [f], unprotected piv sex, use of a sex toy, ride 'em cowgirl (1939) dir. samuel diege, cream pie, dirty talk, joel talks you through it. word count: 2.9k masterlist a/n: so this one is.... self-indulgent. shout out to all my friends on anti-depressants that are strugglin' to reach orgasm. me too, pals, me too. and there will be no medication shaming on this account, no there will not! so happy sunday, i hope someone else out there enjoys this short little thing with me x follow @hier--soirupdates if you'd like to be notified when i share my writing

Medication is a journey, they say. Every day will be different.

Medication is not the end all be all, they say. We can always try different avenues.

Six months on, now.

Six months since Let’s try the Zoloft for a few months.

Six months since We can reassess in April.

It’s June and summer has settled over Austin with a hot wet vengeance. April came and went with a mutual agreement that you weren’t ready to be weaned off yet. A gentle hand on your forearm and a softly spoken Why don’t we check in again in July?

A low dose. A starter dose. A you shouldn’t experience too many side-effects dose.  

And she was right – for the most part. There were no headaches, no nausea, no dizzy spells, no changes in appetite. That shallow, low mood that’d been haunting you for months suddenly began to lift. Begrudging exercise in the afternoons, a three-meals-a-day regiment implemented by your boyfriend, and a happy little pill with every morning coffee.

But fuck – you can count the number of orgasms you’ve had since January on one hand.

Countless nights spent alone in your bed, tangled betwixt sweaty sheets, fingers and forearm cramping until you finally give up. Drink a cold glass of water, wet your face, and go to bed frustrated; a routine disappointment.

You’d gotten lucky a few times, of course. Vibrator on the highest setting possible, pussy all puffed up and numb from the rough speed. Frustrated tears in your eyes, lightheaded by the time you finally feel that sweet sweet relief coursing through your veins.

A few times with Joel, too, in those first few months. And ignorance was bliss—quite literally—until he caught onto what you’d been doing.

“What was different tonight?” he’d asked you on one of those nights, laid out beside each other in his bed. Chests heaving, satisfied smiles spread across your faces.

Your hand had paused against his head, fingers twisted up in his sweaty curls, and you hesitated. So quick, the briefest pause before trying to play it off, but he caught it. Always too perceptive, too watchful of an eye; especially since you’d been diagnosed.

“What’s wrong?” Joel frowned.

“I… didn’t… my…” you’d mumbled, face tucked against his pillow.

“Can’t hear you when you do that,” he pressed a kiss to your shoulder. “Baby?”

“I didn’t take my meds today,” you repeated, voice still low, still wary. But you could tell he heard you. Knew from the way his body stiffened beside you. From how when you looked over his smile had dropped, eyebrows pinching inward. 

For a moment he didn’t even say anything. He hardly breathed. And then—Darlin’, why would you do that?—so painfully soft, the faintest tinge of worry in that deep, rasping voice of his. 

“I don’t know,” you sighed, and something hot began to burn behind your eyes. Wet, pinching shame. “Just… I woke up and I wanted you. And I wanted it to feel like it used to for us, and I can never… you know I can’t finish when I’m on them, and I hate feeling like I’m disappointing you—”

“Baby,” Joel shook his head, strong hand cupping your jaw. His forehead knocked against yours; a tender but firm kind of insistence. The type that says look me in the fucking eyes and listen up. “You’re not disappointin’ me.”

“Joel,” you sighed, face hot, foreheads tacky where they pressed together.

“No,” he grunted. “I fuckin’ mean it. This stuff takes time, okay? We’ll figure it out the way we always do. Just… don’t do that again. Please.”

“I won’t,” you murmured feebly, nose smushed against his.  

“Promise me,” Joel had urged you. “Promise me you’ll take your medicine.” 

“I promise, Joel.”

You kept strong on that promise. Didn’t get frustrated when he’d stay over more nights than usual, or drag you back to his place in the evenings – all just to watch you pop that little white pill in the mornings.  

It brought out something new in him, the day you’d showed him the prescription. Like some instinctual protectiveness was unlocked and he just kicked into hyperdrive.

Cutting work early to drive you to your doctor’s office, cooking up different meals every night for dinner.

Most days you wake up alone in his bed; wipe the sleep out of your eyes as you wander downstairs. Let him nudge you into a chair at the table, beside Sarah, so he can set identical bowls of cereal in front of the two of you—his girls. Hell, if you had a dollar for every time that man has said Breakfast is the most important meal of the day in the past six months, you’d have more money than you could spend.

Joel didn’t even get mad when you started smoking again in May.

Didn’t bat an eye when he found you at two in the morning, sat on the back porch in one of his sweatshirts with the smell of tobacco staining your fingers.

“Been a long time since I seen once of those in your mouth,” he’d smirked, settling onto the stoop beside you.

“I’m sorry,” you grimaced, remembering how proud he’d been when you quit. He rested his head against your shoulder, eyes watering with a yawn.

“S’late,” he grumbled sleepily. “N’you smell now.”

“I’m sorry,” you’d repeated, stamping the cigarette into the concrete. “Today was just… hard. Couldn’t sleep.”  

“S’okay,” Joel told you. “Just don’t like it when you sneak out on me, yeah? You know I ain’t judgin’ you.”

The only thing that frustrates Joel, is that he comes, and you don’t.

And it’s not a frustration with you. No, it’s a hot faced guilt that spreads through him every time you fuck. Evident in those frantic touches, desperate pleas of your name, of tell me what to do, tell me how to help, of fuck I’m sorry.

Because you still want him, despite it all. Still can’t help your wandering hands, your fingers that tease back his bed sheets and then his boxers and coax orgasm after orgasm out of him, night after night.

Tonight, you thought, would be no different.

Covers strewn across the end of your bed, pillows askew, you sit astride his lap.

It’s hot; the AC in your apartment has been broken all week, and your thighs are tacky with sweat where they press against his skin. Everything wet – sweat in your hair, slick between your thighs, the soft squelching sound that raises with every press of his cock inside of you.

“Fuck,” Joel pants, hands tight against your waist. “I can’t—goddammit, I’m not gonna last, baby.” 

“It’s okay,” you moan, eyelids heavy as you rock your hips over his.

It’s late, and you both have work early in the morning, but the burn is so good like this. The heavy weight of him reaching so far, pushing the limits of what your body can take. For years it’s been your favourite way to fuck him; poised above his body, admiring the way his stomach tightens and his eyes roll when you sink down on his cock.

“What can I do?” his voice is strained, the veins in his neck bulging as he holds his breath – anything to stave off the impending high.

You only whimper pathetically, grinding your hips into his. Can feel everything in your stomach knotting up into a white-hot ball.

“Hey,” Joel urges, hand landing in a soft slap against your outer thigh. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t know,” you cry out, shaking your head. “It’s right there, but I…”

“But what?” he murmurs, hips snapping up again.

“I don’t think I can,” you finally admit, eyebrows drawn tight in frustration. Your lower lip is bitten raw at this point, incessantly gnawed at by your own teeth. His grip tightens on your hips and he drags you upward until his length slips out, falling against his stomach with a wet smack.

“C’mon, tell me what you need,” he says quickly, and you’re sure that the desperation you see in his eyes is mirrored in your own. Pupils blown round and fat, endless black—pleading.

You stare down at him for a moment. Watch the way his chest heaves with harsh, stilted breathes. How little dots of sweat have gathered at the hollow of his throat. And fuck, you want it so bad.

“Top drawer,” you exhale roughly, pointing to the side table.

Joel doesn’t question the order. Doesn’t say a word as he spreads a long arm across the bed, yanking the drawer open and shoving his hand inside. You watch him rifle around for a moment, pulse increasing as you wait for him to find what you want. What you need. And you can tell when he does; his shoulders stiffen and he lets out a choked sort of sound, pulling out the black wand and shoving it into your hand.

“Show me,” he says, eyes wild.

Your finger drops down against the button, turning your hand to show him which one to press.

“There’s four settings,” you murmur, slipping it back into his palm.

“Does this normally help?” he asks, grunting softly as you grip his cock, notching the tip back at your entrance.

“Sometimes,” you sigh, sinking down, sucking in the heavy weight of him. “Can still take a—a little while.”

He presses the button tentatively, watching as the rounded head of the wand starts to vibrate. Spread open around him, he can see your swollen little clit so easily, and he lowers the wand to press against it. Your body jolts forward, mouth splitting open with a groan as heat flares through you. Your hips stutter against him instinctively, chasing that intense feeling, and he looses a gravelly moan at the feeling of your wasted cunt squeezing around him.

“Look at that,” Joel grunts, dark eyes trained on your face. That wicked pink tongue slips out to wet his lips and he nods in encouragement. “I know, baby, I know it’s a lot, you feel good?” 

“Yes,” you gasp, jaw going slack as you settle into the feeling. “Fuck, yes, it’s good, it’s good.”

It’s nothing you’ve ever felt before; nothing your past boyfriends had ever been comfortable enough to try. It has the muscles in your thighs tensing up already; the thick press of his cock paired with that unrelenting, almost overbearing, vibration.

“Can feel it,” he hisses out, head tilting back into the mattress.

“Yeah?”

“Mm,” he nods, expression grim. The muscle in his jaw twitches. “So fuckin’ tight like this. All wound up, y’need it so bad, I know.”

You moan, eyelids fluttering as he presses the button again, notching it to a higher speed. You lift up slowly and then press back down over him, and the two of you groan in unison. His free hand falls against the curve of your ass and he squeezes, encouraging you to rock against him, starting up a steady pace.

One of your hands settles on your chest, fingers twisting and pulling at your nipples. You need more, always more, something, anything.

“Look so fuckin’ good like this,” Joel mutters, and you can tell how fucked out he is already as he watches you. Dark eyes glazing over, mouth hanging open deliriously. “My pretty girl, so damn good for me.”  

Your heart stumbles in your chest and you whimper, appreciation for him flooding your senses. He’s been so close for so long tonight already, teetering precariously on that edge but holding off for you. Fucking you into the mattress before pulling out and tucking his face between your thighs, doing his damnedest to get you to that same place. Urging you to get on top, to take what you needed, to use him to get yourself off.  

“I love you,” you mumble breathlessly, eyes pinching closed as something sharp starts to tingle at the bottom of your stomach.

“Fuck, fuck,” Joel snarls, hips snapping upward.  

“What ar—” your words cut off with choked moan as he clicks the button again, and then again, taking it to the highest speed. Your shoulders shake and you tilt forward a little, hand gripping his shoulder to steady yourself.

“Joel,” you cry out, chest heaving and stomach tightening.

Your fingers wrap around his wrist, searching for something to ground yourself against. That firm press against your clit doesn’t falter for a second, and you let out a rough moan.  

“Good,” he grunts. “Good girl, give it to me.”

The muscle in his bicep spasms and strains beneath the skin, everything pulled taut as he keeps the wand pressed firmly against you. And it’s almost painful, the way you can feel your high coiling inside you, burning, but never quite reaching fever pitch the way you need it to. 

A symphony that builds and billows and writhes within you. Sloping swells of violins and cellos and trumpets. Up, up, up to that shattering crescendo you just can’t seem to reach.

“Joel,” you mewl, and there’s tears in your eyes, on your cheeks. Hot, fat tears that stain your face now, dripping from your chin to splatter against his chest.

“C’mon now,” he grunts, hips shifting up off the bed, meeting you thrust for thrust. The stretch of his cock is so wide, so deep, and every shift of his body punches the air from your lungs.

“I don’t know if I can,” you shake your head, stomach on fire. The vibrations are so intense, the speed so fast, you can feel your clit going numb beneath it. But Joel doesn’t pull away, doesn’t stop the fast pace of his hips. The muscles in his abdomen twitch under you, tan skin glistening with sweat.

“You’re so close,” he goads, jaw tight. “Don’t fight it, baby.”

“Stop moving,” you beg then, your voice a high keen. Joel stills instantly, wary eyes darting across your face. He doesn’t pull the vibrator away though. Not yet.

“Fuck,” you cry out, hand firm against his stomach. “Just let me-just—”

Knees on fire against the bed, you grind your hips down into his. Gasp as his cock presses hot and heavy against something deep inside of you that sets your entire body shaking, vibrating against him; buzzing at the same high-speed rhythm as the wand between your legs. You rut against him again and again and then something pulls tight and hot at the base of your spine.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, eyes widening. “Oh god, Joel, I think—”

“Shh, I know, I know,” he moans. A bead of sweat rolls from his hairline to his chin. “You’re okay, let it happen.”

“Touch me,” you say, breathless and needy and so so desperate. “Fuck, please.”

Joel groans – a deep, guttural thing. A sound that comes from somewhere in the base of his stomach. It rattles your bones and has your fingernails digging into his stomach, and then his hand is on your chest. Rough fingers squeezing and stroking and pinching and you’re gasping, keening his name as he whispers frenzied words of encouragement and it’s building it’s building it’s building and and and—

Everything goes silent when you come. It’s all blurred vision and deafened ears; an intense ache in your jaw from the way your mouth hangs open. You can feel a vein in your neck, raging beneath the skin; a staccato rushing sound that echoes inside your head.

And you think you can hear Joel’s voice, somewhere beyond it all; Fuck, there it is, good girl, good fuckin’ girl.

When your eyes flutter open, you can only see Joel’s face swimming in your vision. His eyes rolling back, lips parted as he snarls your name.

“Fuck,” he spits. “—yeah, that’s it, there we fuckin’ go.”

You feel his cock kick inside of you; fast jerking spasms and then a warm rush as he starts to come. Your hand wraps around his, pushing the wand to the side of the bed, but he doesn’t fucking stop. He grips your waist and fucks up into you, spitting curses and warbled slurs of your name as he pumps you full of his hot spend.

It’s obscene – a mix of your come and his, squeezing out around his girth and smearing against the inside of your thighs. It pools around the base of his cock and you whimper at the sight, swollen cunt still tightening around him. Only when you start to sag down against his chest does he rest, his thighs twitching and tensing with the aftershocks of his high.  

Joel raises a hand, calloused thumb brushing the tears from your cheeks. Then, carefully, he grips the back of your neck, guiding you down to rest against his chest.

Your shoulders slump and you press a lazy kiss against the jut of his collarbone. And for a moment there’s just this. No sounds but that of heavy breaths and a soft buzzing, forgotten somewhere in the sheets. The swipe of his fingertips down your spine, your lips against his salty skin. A gentle tap against your waist and he’s slipping out of you with a sigh, but not letting you pull away, not letting you move from where you’ve collapsed directly on top of him.

“Missed that,” you slur sleepily, fighting to keep your eyes open.

“Me too,” he mumbles. “Did so good. Made me proud.”

“S’that right?” you smile against his skin.

“S’right, baby.”

You hum, dragging your head up to press a kiss against his mouth. Both of you so exhausted that it’s just a brief, lazy swipe of your lips, but it’s enough. It’s thank you.

“Shower?” he suggests softly, smiling up at you.  

“Or… cigarette?” you respond, eyebrows raised, teasing.  

“Watch it,” he smarts, laying a quick smack against your ass before nudging you off of him. He stands and holds out a hand to help you off the bed, tutting underneath his breath. “Although I guess you’ve earned it.”

a/n: in hindsight, idk why the fuck i wrote that it took them six months to try this but what can you do lmao.

thank you for reading! x

[anadiasmount]

hello again? - jude bellingham x reader.

quick sum: weddings and dates. feelings tested to their breaking point when one of you appears with a date. the night is young, is there still a chance to make things right even when it feels wrong?

wc: 4k | masterlist | jude’s masterlist

psa 🗣️: HAD SOO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS!!! this wa smeant to be posted yesterday so I'm sorry for the small delay!! i love the drama and angst but fluffy ending as promised!!🤞🏻 like always hope you enjoy! 🤍

“i going to need five painkillers by the end of the night,” the bride, well, your best friend says. you laugh as you finish tucking in the last few bobby pins in her updo, making sure no flyaway or small bumps are seen, everything sleek and perfect. “i am too. or maybe many many many tequila shots, whichever is first available,” you joke. 

“you should be all set!” you say cheerfully with a full smile on your face, hands resting on her shoulders as she admires your work. “it looks absolutely perfect, thank you! you’re truly a life savor i was ready to cancel the whole wedding,” your friend's eyes glimmer in relief, having a huge weight lifted off her shoulders as you did her hair. the hairstylist had to cancel the day of due to having a family emergency, but refunding her money was the least she could do. 

all the bridesmaids surrounded you, complimenting the hair and most importantly the bride who could just be overall thankful and full of emotions. the photographer came in, taking individual and group pictures of everyone, and opening a bottle of champagne to start the day. 

there were still a couple of hours left so you did some touch-ups on hair and makeup, assuring to add some powder to set and spray a setting mist to ensure it would last all day, also being generous with the hair spray. you changed into the olive green-toned dress and the black pumps for the evening, the dress hitting the correct angle and not interfering with you walk. a simple gold bracelet and matching earrings completed the look, walking out and earning praises from your girlfriends. 

your heart began to race faster approaching the reception, suppressing any feelings away because you felt it wasn't the time. the wedding nerves were killing you but also seeing jude again was making you stress more than it shouldn't have. how he was. what he'd wear. if he was even going to be there?

with jude's schedule, it was hard to even make time for each other, being one of the main reasons for your messy breakup. your promotion to the law firm, move to spain, his recovery, media, games, and the always questioning each other's every move. it took a toll especially on you, crossing yourself every night knowing you couldn't do anything about it except long for him.

he was your every thought since then. if he missed you? how his life was going? if he also desired to get back together? as hard as it was you still felt more than love for him. the feeling in your tummy spreading as you remember the first times with him. the kiss, the date, the sex, the love, all of it.

"i've ordered your favorite, now tell me where i can help you," jude says kissing just below your ear returning from outside where he placed a call. you hand him your flashcards pulling out your notebook to read the different scenarios that match with the words.

"just so you know, before we start, i'll have you know i want something in return," jude whispers with a cheeky grin. "of course you do, what is it," you ask teasingly your arm wrapping around his shoulders waiting for his response.

"a date. i want you to go out on a date with me y/n..." jude says earning a silence from you. your nails rake against the back of his neck, "i'd love too. just so you know, depending how much you help me with determine the commitment to our first date..."

"i promise to be on my best behavior then."

"y/n! are you ready?" your friend waved her hand in the air with a confused look, you immediately snapped back into reality as you stepped out to the reception. "does everyone have their flowers? remember they go in your right hand!" the party organizer reminded you as you quickly got into line with the groomsmen.

it all happened quickly, you smiled at alex who quickly got into place arm wrapped with yours as you walked down the aisle as rehersed. the reception was absolutely beautiful. the tears, the vows, the laughter, the ceremony couldn't have been more perfect. you hated to admit but your eyes did search around for jude, and once you saw him, a sensation in you went numb.

there jude sat with a girl to his side who clearly hadn't read the dress code. placing kisses all over his hand and cheek, the love dazed in her eyes as she stared at jude. jude did reach over a few times and she giggled, making your weak heart wrench further.

jude on the other hand started to get impatient, especially with carla who wouldn't stop annoying him and trying to get his attention every few seconds. since breaking up with you he couldn't stand the PDA towards him or seeing it. jude quickly found it difficult since most of his teammates were married or in committed relationships.

it seemed like everywhere he went, there were reminders of you lingering around. the library you studied and where he took you on a desk in a quiet corner, the cafe where you'd get your morning coffee with him, even his training center, and the beranabeu where he hoped and waited you'd be there. he was miserable and driven to his breaking point.

jude began to regret bringing carla, as she got the wrong message and was all over him. the wedding you planned to go to together, where you were supposed to be his date, not her. but his stupid jealousy and talks from others were the fault he was here today. he was anticipating meeting your boyfriend or date, make the message clear he was going to be in the picture.

he hated to think of someone else when it wasn't him. it ticked him off and he knew he couldn't do anything about it because you weren't there anymore. but no one said he couldn't feel the way he felt. to hate the man who would forever make you laugh, or earn your love at the end of the day.

all those promises, the kisses, the hugs, the forever after you guys created was long gone. it hurt jude to the point where he had nightmares, not being able to sleep. it didn't help when they teased or made comments to him. or the fact a rumor went around you moved on and had someone else.

"carla, do you mind getting some drinks while i say hello to some friends?" jude kindly asks removing her hands from his chest. "anything for us jude! i'll wait for you by our table," she winks at him making jude internally cringe as she walks off.

he dabs up his friends, congratulating the groom and making small talk. "oye jude! que pasa chaval!? i didn't think you'd come," his shorter teammate brahim greeted him. "well i'm here aren't i? how are you? como estais?" jude mocked earning a chuckle from him.

all of his teammates suddenly surrounded him, laughing and discussing the plays for the game before, and the tactics for the upcoming one. jude looked around trying to look for you and carla. he fixed his suit every now and then, entranced with his friends. "who did you come with?" asked brahim, looking around for what presumably could be you.

"an old friend, her name is carla," jude winces at his friend's look. “i thought you were coming with y/n?” asks brahim earning a deep scowl from jude. “no we uh- we broke up a while ago,” jude squints his eyes, eyes finding you where you laughed loudly with your friends.

“but she’s here?”

“yeah but probably not alone,” jude retorted still convinced you were seeing someone and they were here. “what?” brahim laughs at him earning an eye roll from jude, “you can’t be serious! i’m pretty sure she’s single,” brahim says. “what are you playing at here jude?”

“nothing. i’m here for the wedding,” jude scoffs. “yeah sure you are,” brahim squints his eyes then looks around starting to walk off. “when you come to your senses, i’ll wait for you over there. remember not everything seems to be exactly as you seem jude…” he smacks his shoulders and walks off.

you’d probably been on your third glass of champagne by now, enjoying the presence with your girls as you spoke about the wedding and old throwbacks together. the speeches were made and the newly weds had their first dance already. anyone at the event center was dancing, talking, or drinking.

“i’ll be right back, i'm pissing myself,” you excuse yourself laughing at joke as you step away to do your business. you brought along your bag, washing your hands and touching your your makeup that had smudged a bit after the maid of honor speech. applying a fresh coat of lipstick and gloss you dabbed the excess off and headed outside.

you motion to your friends you we're head to the bar, them mouthing to bring shots of tequila and some peanuts to eat. “i don’t think we’ve met before,” a strange voice says behind you, you turn slowly, feeling your chest sink deeper as you place a small smile. “i'm carla,” the girl introduced herself, watching as you hesitated taking her hand.

“i feel like i’ve seen you around somewhere, i just can’t put a finger to it. you know huge town but small circle of friends, i was invited last minute to the wedding so,” carla spoke falsely making you want to walk out the conversation. you nodded along not really caring and wanting to go back. part of you hated the way you were treating her, but it was all the jealousy talking. she had done nothing to you besides show up here with him.

“i’m sorry but my friends are waiting for me,” you apologize letting the bar tender know where you were seated. you grabbed a fresh glass of champagne and standing up, grabbing your bag and walked away. “leaving so soon? i was hoping we could talk,” she approaches you again making you turn again but this time a bit agitated since you were catching on to what she was doing.

“like i said, my friends are waiting for me,” you shrug nonchalantly seeing her cock her head to the said and look you up and down. “well i didn’t catch your name,” she sarcastically says, the anger building in you slowly as she spoke and wanted to rub onto your face who she was here with.

“i’m y/n, but i feel like you know that already.”

“oh you’re the ex-girlfriend!” the girl enhanced the oh, with a fake smile. rage burned in your veins, needing to have resistance before you put her in her place. she had been on it the whole night, and she began to test your limits now. 

“you must be the new girlfriend!” you returned the fake smile and took a huge sip of the champagne. “almost couldn’t tell…” you shrugged looking for an escape route but landing eyes with the man you avoided the whole night. his mouth agape and wide eyes. 

he wore a black suit and white button up, leaving three buttons undone, hair styled and a fancy watch adorning his wrist. you felt tugged into the eye contact, needing and wanting to be the one next to him tonight. but instead here you were, giving your attention to the person you hated most. 

your jaw clenched, turning your attention to your glass where you swirled the drink. “it’s a shame you guys didn’t work, but don’t worry! i’ll take better care of him,” she snarled. “jude spoke so much of you, honestly don’t see anything fascinating about you. have a goodnight.” 

you downed the drink in one go, feeling the burn in your throat as you placed the glass onto the empty table. jude frowned at your state, still overly confused and waiting for your date to appear. then it all clicked in his head, you didn’t bring anyone, you didn’t bring a date. the jealousy and anger disappearing in him slowly as he watched you sit down and sigh covering your head in your hands. 

“what did you say to her?” he questioned his date, seeing a smirk appear on her lips. jude turned back to you where you looked around in a trance, knowing immediately you felt the anxiety in you. 

“what had to be said. it’s all done.” 

“what’s done? what are you doing?” jude spit out dragging her to an empty hall where she just chuckled. “i told her what needed to be said. closed a chapter and now we’re starting a new one,” carla spoke crossing her arms. “i brought you here as a companion, not as my girlfriend or anything more. i think you’re getting the wrong message here,” jude said shaking his head.

“what do you mean jude?”

“i never asked you to do that, carla. you had no right to do that. i brought you here as a companion, not my girlfriend or anything else,” jude makes it clear to her seeing confusion flash into her eyes, now beaming with embarrassment. “i don't get it jude?”

“that i don’t intend to start a relationship with you. i’m sorry if i have given that impression but i can’t. what did you say to her?" jude demands his tone going softly as he walks towards her. "i thought i had said what needed to be said so we could finally be together!"

"y/n is too busy with herself. she got herself a promotion and is focused on her studies! she can't give you what you want and ask for jude! she's nothing compared to me," carla points to herself as she speaks all mumbled.

"and you can? what you did just now, what impression does that give to me carla? the way you're speaking about someone who you don't know, and never will?" jude defends you, deeming the need to even if you weren't there. she opens her mouth to speak but closes it immediately, knowing nothing could fix the situation. "i'm sorry-"

"save it. we both know you don't mean it," jude scoffs and walks off, back into the reception where you're nowhere to be found. he wandered off for a few minutes looking for you, even asking some people around him and they all gave him the same response that they hadn't seen you.

you had walked off back to your friends after a mini breakdown and questioning your life. beginning to blame yourself for everything when it shouldn't. it was both your faults but yet it hurt to hear her say nothing was fascinating about you. you shouldn't have let her words get to heart but what if they were true?

what if you were stuck in your own world and couldn't bother to make time for him? what if you didn't give enough attention especially when he most needed it? to be worried only in the moment and not live your life to its fullest? a couple shots and dancing later you found yourself seated at your table alone, watching you friends dance without their heels drunkly laughing off.

"where are you even going?" jude asks you, seeing how you packed every item away into suitcases. "clearly far way from you. i can't stand it anymore, you're never here jude!" you yell throwing your hand sin the air.

"you're never here and i'm tired of it jude. it's always some bullshit excuse and if you truly cared you'd see that but you don't. i'm not wanted here so the faster i leave, the better for us," you say zipping up the final case.

"you're being ridiculous," jude laughs in disbelief, approaching you but you warn him to not get near you. "this is what i mean! i can hardly recognize you nowadays! i'm done jude. done," you say loud and clear.

"leave. i never needed you anyway." you turn around facing him, a flash of regret filling in his eyes as you look at him in pure disbelief. "you did, or you wouldn't be standing here if it wasn't for me."

you share your head at the memory, heading to the empty bar to return the empty glasses, feeling the need to clean up the mess and grab a small snack and final glass of champagne walking out to the outdoor balcony for a breath of air. "y/n?" you look up, not feeling sleepy or drunk anymore, standing up straight as jude approaches you.

was it possible to feel your heart shatter into millions of pieces over and over again? to feel the pit of your stomach turn at the sight of your ex-boyfriend? to feel utter pain when it was supposed to be a happy day? "jude..." you croak, looking away and biting the inside of your cheek.

he rests his forearm on the bar railing looking at you, trying to read you as you looked forward. silence fell upon you, but there was no denying that your hearts began to sprint faster at the closeness of the two of you. "did you need something?" you softly ask, taking a sip of the drink. "i wanted to talk," jude states firmly.

"are you sure? i don't think your girlfriend would like that," you attempt to joke but it earns you a frown from jude who just shakes his head. "i'm not sure she would, i'll just leave this here and go-" you try to walk away but he stops you, softly gripping your wrist refusing to let you go.

"she's not my girlfriend, she also left a while ago..." jude says, seeing you finally lock eyes with his. a deep laugh rumbles from his throat a painful smile stretching along his adorned face, "my first reaction would've been that too, if you had shown up here with someone else."

"i don't get it, why are you here then?" you feel the need to ask, get some sort of answer to relieve the pang in your chest. "why bother being here when you still brought her."

"because i was jealous, there i said it. i was so convinced you'd show up with someone who wasn't me. that i'd have to face reality and finally accept we're not longer together. that i can't call you mine anymore..." jude confesses, making your eyes glisten with new tears again.

"do you not know how it feels? to still be stuck in the past and longing for hope that one day you'll come back to me? having to face everyday with you on my mind anywhere i go? to have vivid dreams of you?" jude frowns, his once rough voice turning delicate as he brought a hand wiped your tears. "i can't stand it anymore."

"i thought this whole time before coming here, you were with someone else. everyone told me you had moved on and looked in a better place and all i could feel was bitterness. it wasn't fair, but i was so wrong y/n. so wrong to the point where i brought someone who could never love me like you did..." jude wiped his own tears away at the state of you.

you felt like you couldn't move, stuck in the same place as you heard his voice. the voice that one day soothed you to sleep, to calm you down, to look forward to at the end of the day. was it possible to feel this emotionless? to have no more tears left to cry? a sob emerged you, covering your face and attempting to control your breaths.

"who said i stopped? i may have an idea of what you feel like, let's be real. i don't know quite frankly who told you i moved on, but that's all lies. i can't do that knowing i still feel the same i did when i first met you," you sniffle taking a gulp and feeling the knot in your throat. "i thought i was fine and could handle seeing you, but my oh my was i incorrect... to see her with you, for her to come up to me and speak the way she did? for a second i thought 'where is my jude'?"

"i'm right here..."jude grabbed your hand and placed it on his heart, bringing it up to his jaw and resting his face on your palm. "don't you see it though? we're back where we ended off. do you possibly think we're good for each other when it seems like we're only hurting?" you question him.

"i've lived everyday thinking i wasn't enough or that i couldn't give you what you wanted jude," you shook your head in disappointment, "i want to fix things i do, but i'm scared that if we do this again, we're going to end up back here confessing our wrongs and tears. the way i felt the day we broke up doesn't compare to now..." you say, jude going quiet and looking down in defeat.

"i miss you so much jude," you choked on your own words, a fresh wave of tears overpowered the dry ones, holding onto jude upper arms as he leaned down and engulfed you into a deep hug. jude repeatedly kissed your head, choking on his own sobs as he repeated how much he missed you.

"i hope you know i'm still so madly in love with you y/n. i've never felt this way for anyone and it seems like its meant for you and you only,"j jude says making you giggle. "i'm serious pretty girl. i'm serious about you and us. i always was and i made the mistake of letting you go once, but i'm not here to do that again. i'm here to grant all of the promises we made," jude holds your face, seeing your red eyes and slightly smudged makeup, still more beautiful than ever.

"all of them?"

"every single one of them."

"i feel like we should talk more about it," you insist, seeing jude nod and agreeing with you. he tightens his grips on you waist leaning further down closer to you. "yes we do and we will, but right now i want to kiss you..." he asks and you grant. he sucks in a breath lips devouring yours after months, holding and kissing you how you liked and deserved.

you held onto his suit, tiptoeing up and deepening the kiss further, being able to taste his minty whisky scent. "come with me. we won't talk about everything tonight but i really just want to be here with you," jude says, sitting down on a small couch laid outside. you immediately follow and cuddle into him like you used to. you place a final peck onto his lips. "wait my drink-" jude holds your waist giving you a look with a playful smile.

"i think that's enough for tonight."

[nats-firefly]

the bet

sorority!wandanat x reader

summary: tri delta and delta nu have a bet, you get caught in the cross fire

warnings: power bottom!wandanat, choking, smut 18+ only

a/n: repost! they're back

🚩 warnings are clearly stated please do not report/flag :) 🚩

words: 2.7 k | feedback is always welcome | masterlist

divider source | gif source

Delta Nu and Tri Delta were known as the rival sororities on campus. Always the two every girl wanted to get into, the two to raise the most funds for whatever cause and the two who were always at each other’s throats. One week, the heads of the two sororities met and made a bet. Celibacy week. The house that broke first would have to give up their summer funding for parties, only relying on future fundraisers for party budget.

Usually, these bets wouldn’t affect you all that much. You even liked them sometimes, Natasha would get especially frustrated when things didn’t go her way and she would always come to her trusty roommate for some… stress relief.

But this bet, this bet sucked. 

Not only was Natasha extremely sexually frustrated and on edge, but you had also found yourself becoming dependant on both Natasha and Wanda for your own stress relief. And now neither of them could come to your aid.

You tried though. And you were persistent. But Natasha is a more determined when she’s pissed off. And there was nothing that pissed her off more than having to share you. She noticed how much you would be on your phone and how you spent more and more time out of the apartment, and how your dirty laundry would have the faint smell Natasha recognized from meetings with Delta Nu.

You snaked your hands onto Natasha’s hips, pressing her between your body and the counter, making sure the outline of the silicone toy between your legs was clearly felt through your sweatpants. Natasha whimpered, her hips subconsciously pressing back against you. She turned around in your hold, her hand coming up to grip your throat and pull you towards her.

You turned her towards the kitchen island, hooking your hands under her thighs and propping her up. Her fingers pressed the sides of your throat and you moaned into her mouth, your lips moving perfectly against each other. She bucked her hips closer to the edge, feeling your cool fingertips sliding up her thigh. 

All of a sudden, Natasha clenched her thighs shut, trapping your hand between her thighs as she pushed you away from her with clenched eyes. Her hand loosened its grip on your throat as your other hand slid down her leg. 

“I can’t let her win this too,” You tilted your head, about to ask her what she meant when she hopped down from the counter, giving you a peck on the cheek before walking into her room. 

You frustratedly closed the door to your room, plopping down on your bed and pulling out your phone, starting to text the only other woman who could tend to your needs at the moment.

it’s just a stupid bet, what’s the big deal? nobody has to know, wanda

You rolled your eyes, waiting patiently for the three little dots to appear.

did you forget you live with one of them 

she has a name you know

whatever it is, no. I can’t.

I’ll get rid of her, please?

Wanda tapped her fingertips against her table, biting her lip in concentration. She huffed out a sigh, typing out a half-assed excuse, part of her already thinking of what she’d wear to your place. 

if this fucks up my chances as delta nu president next year i’m holding you personally responsible get rid of her

You got up from your bed, grabbing your wallet and pulling out a twenty dollar bill. You walked to Natasha’s bedroom, knocking on the door before you heard her voice telling you to come in.

“Do you wanna do me a favor?” You asked, scratching the back of your neck as you sat on her bed. She scrolled further down the online store’s website, clicking on a bodycon dress. She hummed, encouraging you to keep talking. “Can you go to the store and grab ice cream?”

“Why do I have to go?”

“Well, you’ve got all this pent up energy you can’t release right? Jog to the store.”

She hummed and stopped scrolling, turning her chair to your direction. You offered her the twenty dollar bill and she snatched it away from your hands. “Fine.”

“Thanks,” You smiled, getting up from her bed and making your way back to your room. Natasha found it odd but didn’t think about it too much. She put on her running shoes and slung a fanny pack over her shoulder before heading out the door, leaving your twenty dollar bill on the counter. 

You heard the front door click shut and quickly texted Wanda.

she’s jogging to the store, you have like twenty minutes to get here

Wanda stood up out of her desk, sliding off her sweatpants and stepping into tight yoga pants. She packed her laptop and notebooks into her bag and walked out the door, grabbing a baseball cap before she left the house. She walked to your apartment and was there ten minute later, trying to ignore the smug smirk on your face as you ushered her into your bedroom.

You closed the door and pushed Wanda against the wooden surface, bringing her lips onto yours. She closed her eyes, getting lost in the feeling of your lips against hers while her bag slid down her arm to rest gently on the floor. She caught herself when your hands started drifting up her sweater, making her push you back onto your bed. You fell backwards, propping yourself up on your elbows as she straddled your lap. 

“You don’t get to call the shots today,” She gripped your hair and brought your lips back onto hers, her tongue moving against yours in a heated kiss. Your hands came to rest on her ass, making her buck hips into you and fuck, this was a bad idea. 

“Doesn’t seem like you want me to stop,” You smirked up at her, making her grip your chin and push you into the bed, rolling her eyes as she got off your lap. 

“I do,” She groaned, standing up again and moving to her back on the floor bringing it to the bed. “I even brought work to do.”

“You never stop, do you?” You asked, as she sat against the headboard, looking at you while she type on her computer and you pulled out your video game controller. 

“If I did, I wouldn’t become president of Delta Nu next year,” She said, the sound her her nails clicking on the keys echoing in your ears.

“Easy there, champ, don’t your sisters have to elect you?” You joked as you clicked away on your controller, eyes glued to the screen on the wall.

“Yeah, but I’m not worried about that,” She said, her eyes drifting to the way your bottom lip was caught between your teeth and your fingers flexed so easily around the controller. It all sent a wave of arousal straight to her core.

Wanda pushed her laptop off her lap, the crawled over to you, pushing your controller aside and straddling your hips once again. 

“Ready to break the rules, Madam President?”

“The rule is I can’t have sex,” She said, bringing her lips onto yours. “Nobody said anything about touching.”

She gripped your wrists and led them under her shirt, making you smirk against her mouth. Her soft moans filled your ears and vibrated through your body, your fingertips pressing harder against the soft skin of her chest. Your lips trailed down her neck, her hands gripping onto your hair as she arched into you. You flipped her over onto the bed, kneeling between her thighs and continuing to kiss down her body.

Wanda moaned as she felt the shape of your strap press against her. Her fingernails dug into your scalp as you sucked on her skin, not hard enough to leave a mark but just enough to leave Wanda wanting more. 

Wanda felt her desperation heighten, feeling like maybe, just maybe she would break the bet. Just as she was about to start tugging your shirt up your body, your head picked up, hearing Natasha open the door to the apartment. You looked at Wanda, a smirk tugging on your lips as you kissed up to her ear, softly shushing her.

“We have to be quiet now, angel,” You said, bringing her lips back onto yours. She continued kissing you, her eyes bursting open when the idea popped into her head. If she wanted anything with you tonight, she was gonna have to share you with Natasha. 

But Wanda couldn’t just bring this up, and she wouldn’t be able to wait another day, celibacy week was almost over. She had to act now. And it had to be Natasha’s idea. Wanda started whining against your lips, at first softly, but getting increasingly louder.

Natasha walked through the door, stopping at the fridge to grab a water bottle as she caught her breath. She removed her earphones and moved closer to you door, hearing shuffling and muffled whining from the other side of the door. 

“I’m back from the store,” She called through the door, making you pull away from Wanda and place your hand over the brunette’s mouth.

“Uhmm, you can put the ice cream in the freezer, I’ll get it late-OUCH!” You hissed at the sharp pain on your fingers, turning your gaze back to Wanda who had a grin on her face and she gripped your forearm over her shirt.

“Is everything okay?” Natasha said, walking into your room. She froze at the sight in front if her: Wanda pinned underneath you, one of your hands under her shirt while the other hovered above her mouth. The redhead’s eyebrows raised and a smug grin graced her features. “What do we have here.”

You pulled yourself off Wanda and walked over to Natasha gripping her hips and turning her around, pushing her towards the door. “We didn’t do anything, she didn’t lose the bet.”

Natasha stopped in her movements, all the pent up frustration she jogged off immediately returning. If anyone was gonna tiptoe around the grey area of the bet with you, it was gonna be her. There was no way in hell she would let Wanda have you all to herself. She turned around to face you before her gaze drifted to Wanda, who was still laying on the bed, her gaze completely locked onto Natasha. 

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” She simply said. Natasha’s lips turned upwards, her hands immediately pushing you back into your room. 

“Now we just gotta make sure you keep your mouth shut,” Natasha’s eyes locked onto yours, the back of your legs finally reaching the bed, making you fall back on it. Wanda kneeled next to you, standing over you next to Natasha as you propped yourself up on your elbows. 

“You guys make it seem like you both weren’t practically begging me to fuck you earlier today,” You rolled your eyes, watching the two girls look over you like you were the last meal on Earth. Wanda rolled her eyes, leaning over and gripping your chin.

“Let’s put that mouth to better use,” Wanda shuffled off the bed, sliding her pants down her legs along with her underwear, Natasha quickly following her movements. Wanda was about to climb back onto the bed, but Natasha held her back, making the brunette look at her with a frown.

“I live here, I get to call dibs on her face,” The redhead said, moving her body up to your face. Wanda rolled her eyes, grabbing the hem of your sweatpants and pulling them down your body, revealing her favorite red strap. 

“You tell another living soul about this and you’re moving out,” Natasha lowered her pussy onto your mouth before you had a chance to answer, her hips rolling onto your face as you stuck your tongue out. Natasha’s fingers gripped onto your hair, angling your head back as she bucked her hips onto you. Wanda groaned as she sunk down onto the toy between your legs, you could feel her weight shift on your hips as she bounced on your strap, your hands gripping the back of her knees and pulling her closer.

Wanda moaned, her nails digging into the skin of your stomach as she steadied herself. The stinging sensation made you moan into Natasha, the vibrations moving through her body and making her thighs squeeze around your head. They started off with a terrible pace, the two bucking their hips at the worst moments together. Your hands gripped Natasha’s hips as you pushed your strap deeper into Wanda, briefly halting her movements. Wanda screamed out in pleasure, the tip of the strap pressing against the perfect spot while you rolled Natasha’s hips onto your face, keeping your eyes on her as she contorted her face in pleasure.

Wanda and Natasha settled into the perfect pace, working off each other and making you groan in pleasure every now and then. Natasha pressed down onto your face, her arousal already dripping down your chin. Wanda whined, desperately bucking her hips, trying to reach her high, but not quite getting there. 

“Do you need a little help, sweetheart?” Natasha cooed condescendingly at the brunette, making Wanda more frustrated than she already was. You lifted you chin up, sucking Nat’s clit into your mouth, making her body shudder. Natasha lifted herself off you, before turning around and straddling your face once again. You circled your thumbs onto Wanda’s legs, as she continued moving against you. Natasha gripped her chin and brought their lips together, her hands moving town to Wanda’s chest, tweaking her nipples as you pumped the toy deeper into Wanda.

One of Natasha’s hands moved up to Wanda’s throat, lightly squeezing the sides as she pulled away from the brunette. She moaned, bucking her hips faster against your face as you reached up to her hips and pressed her hips down onto you as you sucked on her clit. “Cum with me, Wanda.”

You felt Wanda’s arousal soak the strap just as Natasha’s hips stilled and her body shook over you, her orgasm washing over her like waves. Wanda brought their lips together once again, both girls using your body to ride out their orgasms, hair clinging to their skin as the caught their breath. 

You licked Natasha clean before she pulled away from your face, letting you sit up and lift Wanda off you. Natasha moved off the bed to look for her underwear, ready to leave like she usually did after the two of you had your time. You leaned Wanda against the headboard, bringing your lips to hers then kissing down her body, the brunette’s hands entangling in your hair as your buried your head between her thighs, carefully running your tongue through her sensitive folds. 

Natasha watched as you cared for Wanda the same way you would care for her, feeling a pang of jealousy course through her at Wanda’s soft laughter as you came up and kissed her cheek. Wanda moved to the side, allowing you to settle agains the headboard before she settled next to you, curling to your side. 

“Uhm,” Natasha felt embarrassed watching, a prominent shade of pink gracing her cheeks as she avoided your gaze. “I’ll uh-”

“You can stay if you want,” Wanda said, pulling the blanket on the other side of you down, as you focused you attention on the tv. 

“She’s right,” You said, secretly hoping neither woman noticed how much you desperately hoped she would. 

“Okay,” Natasha leaned against the headboard, arms crossed over her chest as she focused her attention at the tv. You nudged her shoulder, the motioned for her to inch closer, making her roll her eyes but moved closer nonetheless. 

The three of your comfortably watched cartoons and talked for another few hours, not able to keep your hands to each other for most of the time. It was around 2 am when you finally closed your eyes, Natasha laying unconscious curled to your side. Wanda drew patters on your skin with her fingertips, the reflection of the tv glimmer bouncing off your phone catching her attention. She waited another few episodes to make sure you were both asleep before reaching over and snapping a picture before sending it to herself and deleting it off your phone. 

She fell asleep with a smug smirk on her features, thinking she had the upper hand. What she didn’t know was that the following morning Natasha would do the same thing, snapping a picture of Wanda laying naked with you before tiptoeing her way out of your room to get ready for class.

And yeah, they both were still at each other’s throats, but maybe this bet wasn’t so bad after all.

[xspeter]

꥟ part of the ‘dancing with our hands tied’ collection. main masterlist.

IN WHICH… Luke Castellan has returned from his quest, but he refuses to see anyone. Too bad you’ve been assigned to watch over him.

W.C: 4.3k

You didn’t like being awoken in the middle of the night. Not by your siblings, not by a nightmare, and definitely not by Chiron.

He’d practically forced you awake, and then started telling you that there was an emergency and you were desperately needed.

Your sleep stricken mind you’d barely been able to process it, blinking a few times as you sat up slowly. Chiron stared at you expectantly, like he expected you to jump out of bed and follow him. If he wanted someone to do that, he should’ve woken up a morning person.

“…What?”

Chiron didn’t repeat himself, instead just leaving the building with a hushed whisper of, “Follow me.”

You swallowed, blinked again, and then did as you were told, slipping on a pair of crocs and wrapping your arms around your chest. The night time summer air was cold, and goosebumps rose on your skin as you followed the centaur.

Chiron didn’t say anything as you walked, well, more like jogged, and it frustrated you. Where was he taking you? What was so important that he had to wake you, and only you, up in the middle of the night?

“Chiron,” You whispered, “What’s going on?”

“Luke’s returned from his quest,” He said as you approached the Big House.

You grinned. You didn’t know Luke all that well, but you knew everyone was excitedly awaiting his return. But, your smile dropped once you noticed the worried knit in Chirons brow. “That’s supposed to be good, isn’t it?”

Chiron sighed as he placed his hand on the front door, an unusual look of worry and maybe even fear in his eyes. “I want you to be prepared when we go in here. Remember, I chose you because I believe you are the most capable in calming him.”

Your mouth went dry as you realized something was very, very wrong. “Calming… who? Luke? Did something happen?”

Chiron doesn’t say anything, instead turning the doorknob and practically forcing you inside. You wish he hadn’t.

The first thing you notice is the sobbing. Pure, unfiltered, scream-crying that makes your heart ache for someone you don’t even know. Then it’s the people, nymphs running around in a panic, random medical supplies and blankets dropping from their arms as they dart around the room.

Then it’s Mr. D. You’ve never seen Dionsysis as anything other than annoyed and irritated. But right now, he looks nervous. Scared. It’s terrifying.

You can’t tell where the sobbing is coming from, it’s so loud it feels like it’s all-consuming. Like it’s coming from every inch of the room.

You turn to Chiron, slight determination in your features, “Where is he?”

Chiron looks almost relieved, like he was expecting you to turn tail and run. Honestly? You wanted to. You weren’t equipped to handle something like this, and you had no idea what was wrong with him anyway!

He gestures towards the stairs, “First room on the left. Grover and some other satyrs are in there with him. I’ll have a nymph bring you the things you’ll need, just try to calm him down for now, alright?” You nod, sucking in a breath as he walks away from you.

There’s not many things to say as you approach the room. You can hear the Satyrs and their hushed whispers of panic and worry, and you can hear the pain in Luke’s screams. The way he cries like he’s been torn limb from limb, and maybe he had been.

You take a deep breath before you peak into the room, but you can’t see Luke. You can see Grover, tears in his eyes as tries wiping something in front of him. You notice the blood that coats his shirt and hands, the deep red cloths that surround him.

A satyr you recognize, Alder, notices you first. And you see the relief that floods his body when he does.

You swallow, and enter the room. Hands clammy as you approach Alder. Your voice wobbles a bit as you speak, “Give me a rundown of what happened.”

Alder is shaking, his breath coming in unevenly. “He- he got back barely even ten minutes ago, and he was sobbing. I couldn’t see his face at first so I didn’t understand but- but-” He sucks in another breath, squeezing his eyes shut. “It’s deep, Y/N.”

You nod. You still don’t understand completely- but you know it must be a cut of sorts which helps relieve you a bit. At least now you have an idea of what you’re dealing with.

From what you knew of Luke’s quest, he had to receive an apple from The Garden of Hesperides. And even though you didn’t know much about this garden, you had an idea of what might have given him the laceration.

You placed a hand on Grovers shoulder, and watched as he turned around to face you. You could see the blood on his shirt much better now, as well as the blood that dripped from his fingertips.

Grover didn’t question you for a moment, but you both winced as Luke let out another wail. Grover must’ve understood why you were there, so he shakily nodded his head and stepped away, letting you finally see Luke fully for the first time.

The sight makes you gasp. Luke’s face is practically covered in blood, all leaking from a jagged cut that runs down his left cheek. His eyes are squeezed shut, body practically flailing as he gasps and groans in pain.

“Okay, okay, okay..” You chant to yourself, hands unsure of where to go or what to do. You didn’t have any of the supplies you needed, not yet anyway, and Luke clearly didn’t even notice you were there. You don’t think he noticed anyone was there.

You squeezed your eyes shut, sucking in your bottom lip as you struggled with what to do. “Luke, can you- can you hear me?” You asked shakily. A stupid question, you knew he couldn’t hear you, you just weren’t sure of what else to say.

Luke didn’t respond, instead, more tears rolled down his face, making the blood run and drip down onto his pillow.

You struggled with what to do, unsure of what you could even do or say to calm him. Honestly, you weren’t sure if there even was anything you could do right now.

You glanced back to the satyrs, and then to Grover, and you felt your stomach drop. He was staring at you expectantly, his own tears leaving dark lines on his tan skin. You knew about his history with Luke, how much he cared for the older boy, and you knew seeing him like this must’ve been terrifying.

So, you did the one thing you could think of.

When you were younger, every time you cried your mother sang you a song. It was silly, and it didn’t really hold any value to Luke as far as you could tell, but it was the only thing you could think to do.

“Here comes the sun and I say, ‘It’s alright, Little Darling..’” You started hesitantly, voice quiet as you leaned down to luke, your fingers tracing his jawline.

He didn’t say anything, in fact he didn’t even react, instead continuing to writhe and scream in pain and fear. Still, you continued.

“The smiles returning to the faces, Little Darling..”

The satyrs all just stared at you in what you assumed was confusion. You didn’t blame them- you were unsure of what you were doing yourself.

“It seems like years since it’s been here, here comes the sun..”

Sometimes, if you were in an exceptionally good mood, you’d sing this song during the campfire. Apollo kids always sang during it, but you weren’t one to enjoy that with them. That’s why you think Luke recognizes it.

Slowly, his breathing evens, and his splintering sobs turn to quiet whimpers. His body relaxes, practically going still as his eyes return to their natural shut state.

You smile, cupping his uninjured cheek with your hand, ignoring the blood that soaks into your skin. “Here comes the sun and I say, ‘It’s alright’..”

☀︎

It’s five days before Luke wakes up.

You come in every morning and every night, checking on him and cleaning him up. Changing his bandages, shifting him around so he doesn’t develop sores from laying in the same position. Sometimes you go in just to keep him company.

But, still, you nearly jump out of your skin when you enter the room and find Luke sitting up, staring out the window with an obvious knit in his brows.

He turns to you once he hears the door click shut, but neither of you say anything. You feel small under his burning gaze, but still, you swallow and approach him.

You turn to the bedside table, where you’ve been keeping the fresh bandages, and silently get to work.

Luke doesn’t say anything as you gently turn his head towards you, and he doesn’t say anything as you peel back the bloody bandage that covers his left eye. It makes you nervous.

But, you know Luke has been through something traumatizing. Something you’ll probably never understand, so you don’t say anything either. If he wants to talk, you’ll let him go first.

The next three days pass by just the same. Every morning and every night, you change his bandages, check his vitals, make sure he eats, and leave. All without saying a single word.

You want to ask him what happened, if he remembers anything, if he remembers that you were there that night. Does he even remember that night? Does he even know your name?

But you don’t ask. And on that fourth day, Luke finally says something to you.

You're changing his bandage again, and make a pleased hum in the back of your throat when you notice it’s completely clean.

Luke, who usually looks anywhere but at you when you’re doing this, locks his gaze with yours. He swallows, leaning back onto his hands, “Is it better?” He asks.

You're stunned for a moment, but quickly pull yourself together. His voice is rough and raspy from what you assume is not talking for literal days, but it’s still got a soft kindness too it you’re not sure you’ve ever heard from anyone else.

“Um, yeah. There’s not any blood soaking through it anymore which is a really good thing. I mean, I was starting to get a little worried with all the bleeding but you seem to be healing up nicely.” You fiddle with your fingers a bit nervously, looking at anything but Luke.

Luke doesn’t say anything for a moment, turning his head and staring out the window. You take his indifference as a sign to leave, so you take your things and walk towards the door.

Just as you are about to close it, there’s a voice.

“Wait,”

It’s soft, and if you hadn’t been listening you probably wouldn’t have noticed it. But you do as told, turning around and making contact with the curly haired boy.

He looks to be struggling with what to say, as if he’s unsure of how to get the words out. Your hand grips the doorknob uncomfortably, eyes wide as you look expectantly at Luke.

Finally, he releases a breath and relaxes his shoulders. He looks back towards the window, and murmurs, “Thank you.”

It’s the last thing you were expecting to hear from the demi-god, but still, you practically glow once it falls from his lips.

“Of course.” You say, quietly waiting to see if he’ll say anything else. You don’t let it disappoint you much when he doesn’t, baby steps and all that, but still, for the first time in a week, you leave that room with a smile.

☀︎

The first thing you notice when you enter The Big House is yelling. Lots of it.

You’re confused, because Mr. D is standing right next to you and you’re not sure Chiron has ever raised his voice a day in his life. And then it registers. Luke.

“He’s been going at it all day.” Mr. D says, that familiar annoyance in his tone. “Get him to stop, would you?”

Your lips part as you stare up at him in shock. “Me?”

Dionysus shrugs, taking a gulp of his Coke. “You did it the last time he was raising hell! Just do whatever you did then.”

This was a completely different situation then last time! Then, Luke was barely even conscious. He couldn’t register what was going on around him, and he was screaming in pain. Not anger!

You shook your head, stumbling over your words a bit as Mr. D grabbed you by the wrist and began dragging you upstairs. “I can’t! This is completely different and has nothing to do with me! And I can’t do what I did last time- It’d be weird now!”

But, you don’t have any more time to argue, because Mr. D barges into Luke’s room without a second thought, pushing you inside and slamming the door.

Chiron and Luke both go silent, both turning to face you. Chiron looks confused, a silent question on his face. While Luke.. doesn’t look like anything. The knit in his brows relaxes, and the obvious frown that was on his face disappears. He looks as if nothing happened.

“I’m sorry,” You huff, wincing a bit as you reach for the doorknob to exit, “Mr. D kinda forced me in here, Not sure what he thought I could do…” You mumble the last part, clearly very annoyed. “But I’ll uh, i’ll just leave you guys to.. continue.” You gesture to the two of them with a fake smile on your face, struggling to open the door. Mr. D must’ve locked it, that old bastard.

Chiron shakes his head, giving you a small smile. You can tell he’s exhausted though, his eyes say it. “No, please, stay. I’ll go.” He shoots a look to Luke, who’s frown has returned onto his pink lips. “We’ll continue this conversation later.”

Luke doesn’t say anything, and Chiron opens the door so easily you almost feel embarrassed.

There’s silence as you approach him, deafening, sickening silence, and you itch to ask why he was yelling. What made him so angry?

You suck in your bottom lip and risk a glance at Luke. He’s staring out the window still, and you wonder what he thinks when he looks out there. Does he miss everyone? Does he want to go back and finish his quest?

“Um,” You release a breath, shrugging your shoulders in an attempt to seem completely indifferent. You sit on the stool next to Luke’s bed and begin to get to work, “Not to be.. nosy or anything like that, but, what was that about?”

Your hands are gentle as you softly position his head so you can get the best angle, softly peeling the bandages away and checking in on his progress. The cut has healed nicely, and it’s no longer blaring red and raw. Instead, it’s a nice pinkish color, and you can tell that scar tissue is beginning to form.

Luke doesn’t say anything for a moment, and you begin to worry that you crossed a line. “You don’t have to answer that-”

“Chiron wants to tell everyone that I’m back from my quest.”

Your blink a couple times, but smile a bit that he felt comfortable enough to answer you. You hadn’t registered that his return had been a secret until now, but you can understand why he’d want it to stay that way.

He was supposed to be this great swordsman, someone all of camp looked up to and depended on. You assumed that’s how he saw the quest, something else the rest of camp would be proud of him for.

So, when he failed? Probably not the best for his pride.

“I understand why you wouldn’t want to tell. But.. they’ll all find out eventually. Wouldn’t you rather rip the band-aid off now instead of waiting?” You ask, voice a little hesitant. You don’t want to scare him off, or make him feel like he’s being attacked.

He huffs, gnawing on his lower lip as you gently replace his bandages. “What would the difference be? Disappoint everyone now, or disappoint everyone later. How fun.”

There’s a bitterness in his voice that you hadn’t expected, but you understand it. “They aren’t going to be disappointed, Luke. They’re worried for you. I see them, you know? They sit and watch the hill, waiting for you. And I don’t want to… push you, or anything, but I think maybe it’s time you let them help you.”

Luke’s lips thin, and he goes back to staring out the window. You finish your work silently and stand to leave, but a hand on your wrist stops you.

You look down surprised, finding his fingers barely locked around your wrist to stop you. He looks up, making soft eye contact with you, almost as if he were begging you not to go. You listen.

You sit back down, and Luke releases you without saying a word. It’s this moment when you can finally take the time to really admire him, not the things that leave him scarred.

His hair is a deep brown. Not quite black, but still so dark it could be mistaken for charcoal. The sunlight from the window streams onto it, making it glow a soft mocha color. His eyes match, but they're more honey-colored than anything.

Freckles dot his skin like stars, aligning to form different constellations. You resist the urge to trace them. But his lips.. they're so soft, so pink. So.. unique. You want to trace them, too.

Luke sniffles, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not… not that I don’t want to. It’s more like I can’t. How am I supposed to tell them I failed when they expected so much more of me? If I tell them that.. that I’m not as amazing as they think I am, then who do I become?”

You smile gently, eyes crinkling in the corners. You risk interlocking your fingers with his, fully expecting him to pull away, but he doesn’t. His breath hitches in his throat for a moment and you can tell he’s hesitant, but, he returns your gesture, holding your hand with a softness you hadn't expected.

“You become human.”

☀︎

News of Luke’s return spreads around the camp like wildfire. Everyone is excited, happy that he returned at all, but they are also confused. If Luke had returned, where was he? And why had no one seen him?

You honestly couldn’t help the swell of pride in your chest the next morning when you’d gone to check on Luke and he’d told you he was having Chiron tell camp. Some selfish part of you wanted to believe it was because of what you’d told him, but you knew realistically it was something Chiron had said.

You chew on your nails as your siblings talk in hushed whispers at your table. All of them talking about where the hell the hero could be and why he hadn’t been seen. Some say Chiron is just waiting until Luke is cleared of any injuries he may have gotten, others get more extreme and say he hadn't really returned at all and Chiron was just waiting to tell everyone he had died.

“You wouldn’t happen to know anything, would you, Y/N? You’ve been acting pretty secretive lately..”

Your head whips to your brother, Lee, as he eyes you suspiciously. You stammer on your words, eyes gluing to the space around him as you struggle to come up with the words. You’d never been good at lying.

“No! How would I even know anything? I know as much as you, and also, I'm sure Luke’s okay wherever he’s at so you guys should stop worrying and stop talking about it.”

Lee gasps, eyes going wide as he points an accusing finger at you. “You do know something!”

“No I don’t!”

Your sister, Marcia, snorts and rolls her eyes. “You totally do.”

You stutter for a second, racking your brain for an excuse. “I’m- your- whatever! I have to go!” You stand abruptly, walking away and ignoring the way Lee groans and pleads with you to tell him.

You find yourself in the strawberry field, just as you always do when you feel conflicted, and pick so many red berries that your basket feels as if it weighs more than a super fat cat.

You huff as you drag them to The Big House, your arm slightly aching. Look, you weren’t one to… physically exert yourself. You’d stick to nursing people back to health, thank you.

Luke watches you curiously as you plop the strawberries onto the bedside table, slightly panting as you do. You rub at your forearms, doing your best to smooth the ache there. “I figured Chiron wasn’t bringing you any of these, and I remembered someone told me that you really liked them. So…”

You winced a bit, mentally cursing yourself for mentioning that last part.

But Luke doesn’t mention it, instead he just stares up at you, and you watch as his lips quirk up into a small, genuine smile. “Thank you.”

There’s a swell of pride in your chest, one that you allow yourself to be selfish about, because Luke Castellan is smiling and it’s just about the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen.

“Don’t mention it.”

You both chat aimlessly as you patch him up and you even stay to talk with him way after you finish. In the two weeks Luke has been holed up in this room, you can tell the effect it’s having on him mentally and physically.

He’s lost most of the tan that used to kiss his skin, and instead is an uncharacteristic pale color. His muscles have become less defined (not that you were paying attention to that), and he just seems more bored than anything now. You don’t blame him, having to have his only conversations revolve with the same four people. Chiron, Mr. D. Grover, and you.

“No, come on, there's no way you purposely skip out on capture the flag!”

You shrug nonchalantly, playing with the ends of your hair as you lean back onto the backrest of the stool. “I just don’t see the point. And, besides, I enjoy helping everyone with their injuries. It’s usually only the younger kids who come in with little scrapes and cuts, so it’s super easy and they always give me these adorable little smiles.”

Luke listens intently to your reason, and he finds it almost endearing how you ramble, a soft smile on your face as you think of the kids. “I understand that then, I guess. I love those troublemakers too. Sometimes.”

You snort, glancing up from the hair you were tangling and towards him. His eyes are soft, arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the headboard. “Only sometimes?”

He shrugs, “Yeah, only when they’re not causing some kind of trouble. Which is pretty much always..”

You silently agree with him on that, nodding your head. You want to ask him when he plans to leave this room, you’d cleared him two days ago, but decide against it. Luke would leave when he was ready, but maybe he just needed a push in the right direction, just like last time.

“I heard Connor talking about you today.”

Luke sits up a bit in interest, scratching his forearm. “Really? What’d he say?”

You suck in a breath, wetting your lips nervously. “He said he missed you. And that he was worried about you.”

The smile on Luke’s lips falls, and is replaced with his usual nonchalance. His body deflates, and he turns his attention to the sheets in front of him. “Oh.”

You nod, “I think everyone misses you. And they all kinda just wait to hear any news about you they can get. It’s kind of sad, honestly. And, to be perfectly clear, I am an absolute horrible liar and my siblings are starting to catch onto my daily visits here. I fear if you don’t make an appearance soon they might follow me.”

Luke snorts at that, but he doesn’t smile. You want to pry open his mind and understand just what he’s thinking. “I want to. I’m just.. I'm scared of them. Of how they’ll look at me.”

You shake your head, “Luke, they love you. Like, seriously love you. You’ve gotta stop getting in your head about this, let them show you how they’ll look at you. Not your head.”

Luke sighs, letting his eyes fall shut as he processes. You think that deep down he knows your right, he just needs to set his fear to the side. And you definitely understand how hard that can be.

You stand, walking over to the door quietly. You open it, but pause before you leave and look back at him. “Let them love you, Luke.”

You're not surprised when the next morning, Luke isn’t in his usual spot. You’re especially not surprised once you hear the cheers that come from the lunch area.

You peek around the corner with a smile, happily watching as practically everyone in camp surrounds Luke.

None of them even seem to care about the new jagged scar that covers his left eye, or the way he seems like a completely different boy from the one who left all that time ago.

“What happened on your quest? Did you complete it?” Someone, you can’t make out who, asks. You hold your breath as Luke hears it, his smile faltering slightly.

“I, uh,” He stammers, looking uneasy. You curse and step out of your hiding place, doing your best to put yourself in Luke’s line of sight.

He spots you almost instantly, and you watch as relief floods his entire body. You give him an encouraging thumbs up and a large smile.

He returns the smile, and looks back to the camper who asked. “I didn’t get the apple, but, I did get this super cool scar-”

You watch as Luke makes eye contact with you again, and he doesn’t have to speak for you to know what hes saying.

Thank you.

[wcnderlnds]

bucket hats & trench coats | peter maximoff

・❥・summary: peter ralph gets caught up in the westview incident

・❥・word count: 2.1k

・❥・warnings: 18+, nsfw. female reader, p in v, unprotected sex, car sex, agatha all along spoilers kinda, swearing.

・❥・ authors note: this is pure filth im so sorry. also bless @jazz-berry for getting caps of our boy that i just had to use for this 💕

The click clack of fingers zooming across a keyboard was the only sound that rang out through the room. Peter’s eyes were solely fixed on the computer screen as he typed up his newest Reddit post. Ever since the events of Westview had happened and his mind was his own, he was determined to spread the truth of what had really happened. He was the hero Westview needed. Thing was, nobody really cared to listen to his ramblings about Wanda and Agatha and how he’d been manipulated by both.

Apart from you. Everything Peter had experienced, you had, too. The hex had taken you both under control. The only difference was that had only been under Wanda’s control and not hers and Agatha’s like Peter had been. It had taken a real toll on him. He was still himself but he was… paranoid, guarded like he couldn’t trust anyone.

“Holy shitballs, dude,” he spun around in his chair to face you who was sprawled out on the couch with a book in your hand. At the sound of his voice, you peered over at him, a brow raised in question. “Some kid wants to meet up to talk about the whole Westview shit. We gotta go meet him, babe. He wants to know all about Agatha and Wanda and the freaky crap that went down.”

As you looked at Peter, you couldn’t help but frown. He was still as handsome as ever but his face was now adorned with a beard, the lines and bags around his eyes more prominent than ever. His hair was an unruly mess of half silver, half brown. He’d dyed it to try and hide himself but had never kept up with it so now the roots of his curls were a shocking silver that mismatched the brown. His eyes that once held so much joy, so much fun were now full of fear and vulnerability.

“Okay, if that’s what you want to do then, yeah,” you nod.

That’s how you ended up in a parking lot the next evening. Peter looked ridiculous stood beside you in a long trench coat and a bucket hat. Although, maybe in a weird sort of way it was a look. Or maybe you were just so desperate for your boyfriends touch that you were finding anything about him attractive now. Intimacy had come to a complete halt after everything that happened. He spent most of his time on Reddit trying to spread his story. The whole thing had really put a strain on your relationship but you loved this man and there was no way you were leaving him when he needed you the most. So what if you had to touch yourself most nights just for some relief. If that’s the way it had to be then fine.

“You look ridiculous,” you hissed at him, shaking your head. “Do you really need all of this?”

“It’s a disguise, duh! Can’t have him recognising me, can I? That’s why I’m going by Ralph… I mean, Randal — whatever fake name that police dude gave me. What’s up with you anyway? You’re crabby,” he took a sideways glance at you before glancing down at his watch.

“Nothing.” It was a mumble, hands stuffed into the jacket of Peter’s you were wearing. As he was about to speak again - or, more accurately, call you out - a car pulled into the lot. This was it. “Just be careful, okay?”

Leaning up, you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. His beard tickling your face, the sensation only increasing those impure thoughts of wondering what it’d feel like somewhere else, somewhere lower. Peter nodded, giving your hand a squeeze before you jogged off back to the car. This was his thing. It was something he needed to do alone so you made yourself comfy in the backseat of the car, pulling up a game on your phone to pass the time.

It felt like too much time had passed since you left your boyfriend to his meet up so with concern, you got out of the car. Peter was walking around in circles, alone, mumbling to himself. Walking over to him, you approached cautiously. “Peter?”

“I forgot to tell him so much. Damn, I’m an idiot. Do you think he’d meet up again? I need to tell him about the rabbit and….” You cut him off by taking his hand in yours.

“I think you need to relax. This isn’t good for you.”

“It’s the only thing I can think about. It’s the only thing going through my head at any given point. All I can think about is the awful things those… witches… made me do.”

At the word witches, you cut in with “bitches” causing the tiniest of smiles to creep onto his face. You had missed his smile. It was one of the most beautiful things on the planet and you’d do anything to see it again.

“I know, baby. But… you’re letting this consume you and… it’s driving us apart. I miss my boyfriend. I miss my Peter. I miss joking around, going on dates, you stealing stuff for me, being intimate with each other. Do you not realise how long it’s been since we had sex?” You sighed, playing with the fingers on his hand.

“…fuck,” he let out a sigh of his own, the realisation hitting him. Hard. How the heck could he forget about the most important person in his life? No, he wasn’t having that. He had to make it up to you and quick - luckily that just so happened to be his speciality. His hands slid down your sides, finding your hips and pulling you into him. “I’m sorry. I’ve been the worst fucking boyfriend. Let me make it up to you?”

Everything that happened next was a blur. Before you knew it, you were laid on the backseat of the car, legs spread wide with Peter between them. You had no idea where your panties were — Peter had pulled them off in a frenzy. His tongue teased along your folds elicting the most precious sounds he’d ever heard from you. Every brush of his tongue drove you wilder and wilder. His beard rubbing against your thighs only adding to the growing desire in the pit of your stomach. His lips sucked on your sensitive bud causing you to whimper, hands flying to his hair until you realised he had the stupid goddamn bucket hat on still.

“Peter,” you breathed out.

“Yeah, baby, you like that?” His tongue swirled around your clit, completely oblivious to how annoyed you were.

“Peter!” This time he looked up at you from between your legs. “Take the stupid fucking hat off.”

“You mean it’s not doing it for you? Thought bucket hats were all the rage,” he snickered but he took it off, tossing it into the front of the car then dove back in like a man starved. The long, broad stripes of his tongue sliding through your pussy was like ecstasy. God, you had missed this. When you felt him prodding at your entrance, your hands once again flew to his hair this time tangling in it successfully as his tongue dove into you.

“Oh shit,” you moaned, hips bucking into his mouth as his tongue explored your plush walls. Peter could do this all day. Your moans were like music to his ears, the taste of you the best thing he’d ever have on his lips.

“That’s it, baby,” he mumbled against you, his tongue making its way back to your clit. “Gonna come for me, pretty girl? Gonna let me make it up to you?” Between the kitten licks and the sound of him sucking up your juices, you were sure you were about to see heaven but then the little shit thrusted two fingers inside you. Your body arched as he pumped them at a rapid pace. The stimulation of his tongue and fingers was too much for you to handle and you came. Peter lapped at you, his fingers not letting up as he rode you through your orgasm.

He pulled his fingers from you. A shit eating smirk - one reminiscent of the old Peter - was plastered on his face when his eyes met yours. Seeing your release over his lips was enough to almost trigger another orgasm. It really had been so fucking long. “Not done yet.”

Through the dimly lit windows you could see him, rubbing his hard-on through the fabric of his jeans. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you leaned forward, one hand reaching out to pop the button and pull down the zipper. With his help, you pulled down his jeans and boxers enough to free him. You reached out, stroking his cock, the pearly beads of pre-cum leaking from him. With your thumb, you spread it around his tip, causing a groan to pass his lips.

“Damn, babe, keep that up and I’m gonna shoot a load on you in two seconds.” He pushed your hand off him. “Need to fuck you now. Need to fuck you real good to make up for the last year.” He pumped himself a few times, his brows furrowed as he looked at you. “Trench coat on or off?”

You contemplated it for a second. “Fuck it, keep it on. Makes you look like a mysterious hot grandpa.”

“Grandpa?! You little brat.”

That was all you heard before he pushed his cock into your tight walls. He bottomed out in one thrust, filling you to the hilt. God, it felt so good to feel him inside you again. Instantly, he began thrusting into you at a rough pace, his hands gripping your hips so tight you were sure there’d be bruises tomorrow but you didn’t care. All you could think about was your boyfriend was fucking you within an inch of your life again. Finally.

“So fucking wet for me, baby. Don’t think I haven’t heard you touching yourself every night,” he grunted, pulling out and pushing back in with force. Each thrust rougher than the next — all his pent up frustrations finally having a form of release. “Thinkin’ about me when you were playing with this pussy, huh?”

“Yes, Peter,” you mewled. Your hips bucked wildly against his trying to match his pace but it was no use. He was definitely using his mutation with the way he was pounding into you, your body moving along the seat with every thrust.

“Ain’t gotta do that no more. Gonna fuck you like this every night now,” he lifted your legs over his shoulders to hit even deeper inside you. “So damn tight.”

Hands gripped his forearms as he rutted into you like an animal in heat. Sweat was forming on his forehead, tongue sticking out at the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on bringing you as much pleasure as he could. His eyes focused on the way your tits bounced under your shirt, roaming lower as he watched himself disappear in and out of you. Fingers found your clit and you felt the vibrations rumbling through him, causing you to almost scream out. It was too much. Way too much.

“Peter! Ooooh. Can’t -,” you cried out. Before you could even register what was happening, your walls tightened around him, body arching into his as you came. Peter didn’t let up, thrusting into you with a frenzied speed and muttering dirty ramblings as he chased his own high.

“I’m gonna - fuuuuck,” his thrusts grew sloppy and before he knew it he was spilling his load into you, white hot spurts of cum coating your walls. Your legs fell from his shoulders as the two of you collapsed into each other in a sweaty heap.

The silence was almost deafening. The only sounds were your breaths as you both tried to remember how to breathe properly. The windows of the car had steamed up which caused you to giggle. Of all places you thought this would happen it definitely wasn’t in the car. Peter couldn’t help but laugh too. “You good?”

“Great,” you assured him. “Might not be able to walk but damn, Maximoff. I forgot how good you were.”

He scratched the top of his head, feeling every single bit of remorse for letting things get this bad. “Sorry about that, babe. That’s on me. I just got caught up in this Westview thing that… I neglected you but swear down I’m gonna keep making it up to you. Never meant for it to come between us.”

“I know,” you cupped his cheek. “Do me a favour, though?”

“Anything.”

“Keep the beard.”

tag list (ask to be added!): @juliamaximoff @lemoniiiiiii @jazz-berry @xmidnight-rain @honeymoon8

[inkspiredwriting]

The Perfect Birthday

Five Hargreeves x reader

A/N: This little one shot is for @craftyangelpainter. I hope you had a great birthday, and I hope this puts a little smile on your face

Warnings: none

It was a warm afternoon at Five and Y/n’s house, the living room festooned with balloons and streamers. Y/n’s birthday cake stood proudly on the table, a beautiful creation with intricate frosting, baked by Y/n herself because, as usual, she didn't want to burden anyone. Five had worked tirelessly to pull this day together, ensuring everything was perfect for his wife. But as the hours ticked by, the cracks in the celebration started to show.

The whole family had gathered at Five’s insistence, which had been no small feat. As much as they had been through together, getting all the Hargreeves siblings in the same room often felt like trying to contain a tornado in a jar. But for Y/n, Five was determined to make it happen. She deserved it.

Lila and Diego arrived with their three kids in tow, looking tired but managing some smiles for Y/n. However, it wasn’t long before Lila started mentioning their need to head home early. “We’ll have to leave soon,” she said, half-heartedly stirring her drink. “The kids have school tomorrow, and Diego and I are running on fumes.”

Five clenched his jaw. He understood, of course, but this was Y/n’s birthday—one day for his wife to feel celebrated by the people she had grown to care about.

Across the room, Klaus sat huddled on the couch, looking anxious. Without his powers, he had been jittery, afraid of everything from the weather to his own shadow. “I’ll be honest,” he said, his voice shaky as he glanced around nervously, “I’m just trying to keep my anxiety at bay. All this... mortality stuff is really getting to me.”

Ben sat at the far end of the table, scowling at nothing in particular. He poked at his food, clearly uninterested in engaging with anyone. “Can we get this over with?” he muttered. “I don’t even know why I bothered coming. I don’t like any of you.”

Allison, who had been on her phone for most of the gathering, finally piped up. “I really need to get back to Claire,” she said, glancing at the clock. “I promised her I wouldn’t be gone too long.”

Luther, ever the optimist, was the only one genuinely thrilled to be there. “Come on, guys, it’s Y/n’s birthday!” he exclaimed, trying to rally some enthusiasm. “Let’s at least try to make it a good time.”

Y/n, for her part, was putting on a brave face. She moved around the room, smiling, offering food, making sure everyone was comfortable. But Five could see the disappointment in her eyes. She had spent so much time thinking of others, doing everything she could to make his dysfunctional family feel welcome. And what did she get in return? Barely any effort.

As the evening wore on, Viktor stood up, slipping his jacket on quietly. “I need to head back to Canada,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “The bar isn’t going to run itself.”

That was the final straw for Five.

He slammed his drink down on the table, the sudden noise silencing the room. Everyone turned to look at him, surprised by the outburst. Five rarely lost his temper now, but when he did, it was impossible to ignore.

“Are you kidding me?” Five snapped, his voice sharp and filled with barely-contained fury. “You ungrateful assholes.”

Y/n’s eyes widened, and she instinctively reached out to touch his arm, but Five wasn’t done.

“Except Luther,” he added quickly, pointing at his taller brother, who looked caught between relief and awkwardness. “At least he’s trying. But the rest of you? Seriously? Do you even hear yourselves?”

Diego frowned, stepping forward. “What’s your problem, Five? We’re here, aren’t we?”

“Oh, you’re here, alright,” Five retorted. “Physically, maybe. But mentally? Emotionally? You couldn’t care less. Lila and Diego can’t stop talking about leaving, Allison’s glued to her phone like she has something better to do, and Klaus is too busy wallowing in his fear of death to even be present.”

“I have reasons for that!” Klaus interjected weakly, but Five ignored him.

“And Ben?” Five’s voice rose. “Ben can’t even pretend to care. He’s sitting there like we dragged him here against his will.”

Ben crossed his arms, glaring at Five. “I don’t need this,” he muttered, but even he didn’t try to walk away.

Five took a deep breath, trying to rein in his anger but failing miserably. “You know who’s done everything for you? Y/n. She’s always gone out of her way to help you, to make you feel like part of this family. She’s been more of a sibling to you than most of you have been to each other. And now, on her birthday, you can’t even pretend to celebrate her?”

The room was dead silent, the tension so thick it was almost suffocating.

“She bakes for you, she listens to your problems, she does everything she can to make this dysfunctional mess of a family feel like home. And what do you give her in return? Excuses. Half-assed effort. This?” Five gestured around the room, his frustration boiling over.

Y/n looked mortified, trying to tug at Five’s sleeve, her voice a soft plea. “Five, it’s fine—"

“It’s not fine, Y/n!” Five cut her off, his voice softer but no less intense. “It’s not fine. You deserve so much better than this.”

He turned back to his siblings, his green eyes blazing. “You know what? If you can’t even give her a few hours of your time to show her how much she means, then you can leave. Go back to whatever it is you think is more important than being here for her.”

There was a long pause. Lila and Diego exchanged guilty looks, while Klaus shuffled uncomfortably. Even Ben seemed to shrink a little under Five’s fierce gaze. Allison put her phone down, looking at Y/n with something close to shame in her eyes.

“I…” Viktor began, but then he sighed, taking off his jacket. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Y/n.”

Luther, ever the peacemaker, stepped forward, a warm smile on his face. “Let’s start over. We’ll stay as long as you want. It’s your day, Y/n.”

The others slowly nodded in agreement, clearly shaken by Five’s outburst. Lila gave Diego a small nudge, and he sighed, nodding. “Yeah, we’ll stay. Sorry, Y/n.”

Klaus, looking awkward but sincere, added, “I’ll, uh… try to be less scared of everything.”

Ben grumbled something under his breath but didn’t move to leave. Even Allison offered a small smile. “I’ll stay. For you, Y/n.”

Y/n, who had been standing quietly beside Five, finally spoke. “You really didn’t have to do that,” she said, looking at her husband with a mix of affection and exasperation. “But thank you.”

Five pulled her into a gentle embrace, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You deserve it. You always do.”

And for the rest of the evening, the Hargreeves siblings did their best to make up for their earlier behavior. Laughter filled the room, stories were shared, and for the first time in a long while, it felt like a real family gathering. Five kept a protective arm around Y/n, making sure she knew just how much she meant to him.

As the night wound down, Y/n looked around at the scene and smiled. “You know,” she said quietly to Five, “it wasn’t the perfect birthday… but it’s pretty close.”

Five smirked, kissing her cheek. “I told you I’d make it happen.”

And in that moment, Y/n knew just how lucky she was to have Five, even in the chaos that surrounded their lives.

[gammasnippets]

Drive T

SNSD Kim Taeyeon x Male Reader

12,260 words (Co-edited by @capslocked and @sparkynsfws)

Wimbledon—one of the most prestigious tennis tournaments in the world, known for its rich history and iconic traditions. It's the highlight of the tennis season, where the best players from around the globe compete for the coveted title on the hallowed grass courts of the All England Club. This is where names are made, and where legends are born. From casual fans to hardcore tennis enthusiasts, everyone is eager to witness the thrilling matches and the breathtaking displays of skill the players unleash on the courts. And with only a few months to prepare, you do your best to be in your best physical and mental condition for the coming tournament.

That is… If you're one of the qualifying players.

Something suddenly hits your head, snapping you out of your daydreaming. It was a tennis ball, rolling down your face. It's not even a hard hit, but it sure is enough to knock you back to reality. You then scan the tennis court looking for the culprit. Not far from you stands a woman, one hand on her racket and the other on her hip, and she doesn't look pleased.

"Hey! Quit your daydreaming, will you?" says the woman, sounding annoyed.

"That was uncalled for, you know?" you retort as you rub the point of impact, a spark of irritation in your voice.

"I just finished warming up here and the next thing I know, you're in your own world!" she snaps back, clearly unapologetic for her errant shot.

"Well, if only you didn't arrive late, we could've started our practice session on time," you reply, trying to maintain your composure.

The woman doesn't seem to like your response and walks towards you, her face slowly turning red.

"So it's my fault that you scheduled our practice session at such an inconvenient time?"

"What? You told me that you're only available today and that you really wanted to practice," you protest, feeling both confused and frustrated.

"At fucking midnight?" she exclaims, raising her voice.

"Well, it's only an hour after…"

"11 PM, 12 AM… Whatever! It's late in the evening, you dumbass!"

She kinda has a point. Despite the great discount you received for renting the tennis court at nighttime, you begin to realize that scheduling a session close to midnight wasn't the wisest decision.And she has every right to be angry about the inconvenience.

You take a step back, realizing that this argument is getting out of hand.

"Alright, alright… I'm sorry, Taeyeon-noona. I should've checked with you first."

To your relief, her anger softens slightly, and she sighs.

"Well, we're way past that now. Might as well make use of the time while we're here."

"Thanks for understanding…"

"Just don't you ever do this again," she says as she points her racket at you, her tone still sharp. "Or I'll make sure to hit you harder next time."

"Okay. I get it," you reply, feeling intimidated by her fiery demeanor.

You were always intimidated by Taeyeon's fiery demeanor. As your former teacher and tennis club advisor, she's known to be as strict and disciplined. You can't forget the torture she put you through, but that didn't sway you from leaving the sport you're passionate about. And for better, or more likely worse, you and Taeyeon are still in touch after all these years. Maybe you could've found a better partner, but you've never been more comfortable with anyone else other than her.

You and Taeyeon proceed to continue your practice session on the tennis court. Both of you are determined to make the most of the remaining time and improve your skills, ignoring the tension that still lingers in the air. The court fills with the sound of powerful swings, focused footwork, and the occasional grunt of exertion as you both push yourselves to the limit. Well-deserved breaks are taken to catch your breath, sip some water, and exchange a few friendly jokes amidst the intensity.

After a few rounds of intense practice, the two of you decide to take a much longer break.

"Fuck… I need a break," you pant, collapsing onto a nearby bench.

"Jeez. You're tired already?" Taeyeon teases you, as desperate for air as you are.

"You're the one to talk," you retorted, throwing the tease back at her.

"Well, you're the one who keeps on making me run all over the court!" she grumbles as she retires beside you, pouting her lips.

"You gotta do what you gotta do," you reply, smirking.

"Yet I still won," she boasts, a smug grin spreading across her face.

"I only let you win, you know?" you shrug nonchalantly.

Taeyeon laughs out loud at your cocky remark.

"As if! You always trip when you're returning my drop shots."

"Hey… It only happened once."

"More like twice!"

You raise your hands in mock surrender.

"Okay… It happened twice. Happy now?"

"You bet," she continues to laugh. "God, that was funny."

Taeyeon can't help but giggle at your mistakes during the game. As much as you find her laughter infectious, her teasing you might have hit a nerve. You want to retaliate by telling her how equally awful she was at returning her serves. But maybe she deserves this after the earlier exchange.

"So, wanna do a few more rounds?" you propose to Taeyeon, eager to win against her.

"Already? Can't we relax a bit more?" she asks, her body still slumped against the bench.

"Come on. We still have a lot of time left," you urge her, giving her a good nudge with your elbow.

"Exactly! Can't we use the time to rest longer?" she complains, faking an exhausted expression.

You sneer at her, raising an eyebrow.

"Noona, please. Don't be such a baby. You're too old for that," you tell her.

She then lets out a loud gasp. You obviously hit a nerve.

"Hey! I'm not old, you fuck!" she exclaims, raising her voice.

You chuckle. "Yeah, but you're definitely older than me."

"I'm only 34!" she yells, her cheeks turning slightly red.

"You can even pass as my aunt," you joke, unable to resist pushing her buttons even further.

In a hurry, she ejects herself from the bench, ready to argue back.

"Listen here, you little shit. You can joke all you want, but I can kick your ass right here, right now."

Seems like your teasing had the wrong effect on Taeyeon. As if a fuse inside her was lit, she's ready to fight you with words, fists, and probably anything else she can get her hands on.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry," you apologize, trying to appease her.

But Taeyeon's not having it, and she's still fuming.

"That's not gonna cut it, you asshole," she continues to rant. "Y'know what? Let's make this interesting."

You don't know what's going through her head, but whatever it is, you don't like it.

"What? Interesting, how?"

"Since you think I'm such a weak old lady, even though I've beaten you many times…"

"We're almost even," you interject, but she's quick to cut you off.

"Shut up! You're not helping your case," she barks, glaring at you.

You shut your mouth and let her finish.

"Anyway, I bet I can beat you in a singles match," she declares, her tone serious.

The proposition sounds appealing to you, but it does feel like you're being manipulated.

"You can't be serious, right?"

"Do I look like I'm not?"

You scan her face carefully. Her expression doesn't waver and looks dead serious. You begin to regret messing with her earlier, and you're unsure what to say next.

"Well?" she asks again, expecting a clear answer.

You can't help but let out a deep sigh.

"Okay… What's on the line, then?"

"The loser has to follow the winner's every command."

You're a little taken aback by the wager, not because it's particularly absurd, but rather that you can't believe how quickly she's able to come up with this kind of proposition.

"That… That's quite a bold bet," you say, feeling a bit intimidated by the conditions.

"Are you backing out already? I thought you're a better player than that."

"No, I'm not! I'm just… Surprised," you stutter, unsure if you're able to take the challenge.

"Don't be such a chicken," she taunts you, a devilish smirk forming on her lips.

The teaser now becomes teased, and her expression is the one that you would never want to see. She's ready to fight you, and not just with her words. You can sense her desire for victory emanating out of her, and that scares the hell out of you.

Suddenly, immense pressure is crushing you down, and you begin to doubt yourself. Taeyeon's always been a formidable player, even with her age and size. If it weren't for her teaching you, you wouldn't have learned all the tricks that you've used to win many matches. You start to regret your decision to play with her, and you have no choice but to swallow the lump in your throat.

"Alright… You've got a deal," you agree, taking the challenge.

She gives a smug grin.

"That's what I wanted to hear," she chuckles. "Well, we've got plenty of time. Shall we have a nice game?"

"I guess so…"

The two of you prepare for the match, putting your rackets and other equipment away. As you're preparing, a thought pops into your mind, and you have a burning question to ask Taeyeon.

"You do realize that a singles match is longer than doubles, right?"

"Well, we can adjust the rules. This isn't an official match, after all."

"Alright. So how do you want to do this? Best out of three sets?"

"Sounds fair enough."

With the agreement, you and Taeyeon prepare to take the court once again. Both of you are determined to win and get the advantage over the other.

You set off the game with your first serve, hitting a fastball to the far corner of the service box. Taeyeon returns with a strong swing, hitting a high-speed shot that you're unable to defend. She takes the first point.

"Shit," you curse under your breath, as the scoreboard shows 15-0.

You try not to lose your focus as you return to the baseline and prepare for the next serve.

You decide to be more careful, not wanting to repeat the same mistake. Your next serve is a lot slower and hits the back of the service box. Taeyeon's return is weaker, allowing you to defend easily. With the advantage, you go on the offense and score a point.

"Yes!" you celebrate, pumping your fist.

"Hey. Not bad," Taeyeon concedes, not wanting to praise you.

"You can't expect me to let you have the advantage all the time," you brag, not letting her dampen your spirit.

"Try me."

Those two words somehow have a strange effect on you, and your confidence quickly wavers.

You try to be a little bit more aggressive on your next serve, and she's forced to make a mistake, throwing the ball off bounds. The score is now tied at 15-30.

The two of you continue your game, fighting tooth and nail to get the advantage. You give your best and so does her. Neither of you are willing to let the other gain any sort of upper hand.

The score eventually reads 40-30, with Taeyeon holding the lead. A single point would end the set and give her a huge advantage.

The volleys between you and Taeyeon are fast and aggressive, but with a strong swing, she manages to catch you off guard, scoring the winning point. She wins the first set.

She cheers at her victory, a wide grin spread across her face.

"Not bad. Didn't think I'd get the first point, huh?"

"Yeah, but the first set doesn't matter," you retort, not wanting to get discouraged.

"Is that so, hotshot? You can try."

You grit your teeth, and you're not sure whether Taeyeon's taunt was meant to annoy you, but her words had its desired effect. You're now ready to prove her wrong and win the second set.

She starts off the second set, preparing for her next serve.

"Let's see if you can return this one," she challenges you with a sly smile on her face.

"Bring it," you reply, your focus unwavering.

Taeyeon lets out a fast serve, aiming for the corner of the service box. Luckily for you, you manage to read her serve and position yourself perfectly to return it with a strong forehand. A few quick exchanges later, you score with a cross-court shot to start the second set with a point in your favor.

It's now your turn to serve. You perform a tricky flat serve, hoping to catch Taeyeon off guard. She anticipates your serve, returning it with a well-placed backhand slice that lands just over the net. In your hesitation to reach the ball, you mistakenly returned it too high and Taeyeon seizes the opportunity, smashing with a powerful overhead shot. The score is now tied at 15-15 in the second set.

You didn't let this setback discourage you. Instead, you double down on your serve, determined to not repeat the same mistake. Taeyeon is also focused and prepared to return your next serve.

With a swift motion, you throw another fast serve, and Taeyeon returns it with a powerful forehand, forcing you to make a mistake. But you managed to return the ball at an awkward angle, giving her a difficult ball to return. You seize the opportunity and score the next point.

The tension between you and Taeyeon is at an all-time high as the second set moves closer to its conclusion. Each point is fought fiercely, and there are a lot of close calls. Neither of you is willing to concede even a single point.

With both of you on the verge of exhaustion, the match is now coming down to the wire.

The score is now 15-40. You need a single point to win the second set.

You have the opportunity to serve. Taeyeon prepares herself, ready to receive your next serve.

"Here goes," you mutter, trying to psych yourself up. With a powerful serve, you launch the ball over the net. You watch anxiously as the ball flies toward the opposite side of the court. She reacts quickly, running towards the ball and returning with a strong forehand. You are forced to return the ball with a lob.

In the air, the ball curves towards the left, landing just outside the lines. You can only hope that Taeyeon isn't able to return it. But with her usual finesse, she returns the ball with a backhand lob, landing just in front of you. It's your turn to seal the deal with a powerful backhand of your own that hits the corner of the court, earning you the final point of the second set.

You try to keep your composure despite the win, but deep down you're ecstatic.

"Nice job," she compliments you.

You only give her a nod in return.

"So, shall we start the last set?"

"Yeah. Let's."

The chill of the midnight air dissipates as the final set begins. With both of you equally fired up and determined to win, you prepare for the final round.

This is it. The last set of the match. There's no time to lose.

You take the serve, performing a tricky jump serve that she struggles to defend. With a powerful swing, you hit a fastball that she's unable to return. You take the first point.

Taeyeon's serving next. With a fast serve, she catches you off guard and you're unable to defend her serve. The score is now 15-15 in the final set.

The pressure is mounting on you as the set progresses. You want to win. You both do. But there's something in her that drains you of your will. You're not sure if she's just playing a good mind game, or if she really has the upper hand.

The turn to serve goes back to you. You're determined not to let Taeyeon get a free pass. With a slow flat serve, you try to catch her off guard. She returns it with a well-timed forehand. You quickly move towards the ball and return it with a sharp topspin that lands just inside the line. She's unable to return the ball and you score a point.

The score is now 30-15 in your favor. The momentum is shifting in your direction. But it feels as though it isn't.

Taeyeon's serving next, and she looks determined to break the momentum. She hits a fast serve, hoping to catch you off guard. You return it with a powerful forehand. But her next shot is even faster, hitting a topspin that forces you to return it with a weak lob.

At that point, she brandishes her trademark move.

She rushes towards the ball, winding up for a smash. You prepare yourself to counter her attack… Only for Taeyeon to swing her racket sideways as it falls down, hitting the ball with a strong topspin. In a rush, you chase after the ball, but it bounces erratically, almost at a 90-degree angle. Before you can do anything, the ball lands outside the line.

“Drive T” is what she calls it. Not only does she swings her arms in a T shape, but the topspin she generates causes the ball to draw a cross, or rather a small letter T, as it bounces uncontrollably on the court. It’s a move that is very hard to predict, both to the players and spectators alike. You’ve seen her used that technique on many occasions, both to intimidate her opponents and to finish the game quickly. It is her dangerous weapon.

And she just used it against you.

Your jaw hangs open in shock. You can't believe she did that.

"Now that's a topspin!" Taeyeon boasts, laughing.

As much as you want to respond to her, you're not sure if you can. As "friendly" as this game is, you can't help but feel a creeping sense of dread at how serious this is turning out.

The score is now tied 30-30. The tension is getting even higher, and your mind is racing. You want to win. You need to win.

You take a deep breath as you prepare for your next serve. As calm as you can be, you send the ball towards her with a powerful serve that sails all the way to the other end of the net. But with her quick reflexes, Taeyeon effortlessly returns the serve with a perfectly executed backhand. You send it back with a swift backhand of your own, making her chase the ball towards the sideline. She manages to get to the ball just in time, and with a flick of her wrist, she sends a sharp topspin towards your corner.

Your heart races as you anticipate the spin and speed of the approaching ball, adjusting your movement to counter her shot with a controlled forehand. However, as you send the ball back, she has positioned herself near the net, swinging it downwards with incredible power and speed. You already put all your strength in returning the previous shot that you have no more time left to react accordingly, making the ball slip past you and land out of your reach.

Taeyeon grunts with satisfaction as her shot gives her a crucial point, bringing the score to 40-30 in her favor.

You curse under your breath, realizing that you may have bit off more than you can chew. But you have no option to back down now. All that's left is to turn the tables and win.

You take another deep breath as you wait for her to make her next move.

Your eyes remain locked on Taeyeon as she prepares to serve, her intense focus indicating that she's not going to make this easy for you. What happens next is like a blur as the ball immediately zooms towards you the moment she tosses it into the air, not even letting it wait for gravity to pull it down. With her on match point, she has all the reasons to end this game as quickly as possible.

You quickly run to intercept the ball, swatting it with a powerful forehand. She stays on her toes, moving swiftly to return your shot with a skillful backhand slice that barely clears the net. The distance is quite the challenge, but it's something you can still manage. You make a sprint towards the net, just in time to hit it back with a drop shot that catches Taeyeon off guard. With her nimble feet, she manages to reach the ball, though she has to dive in for the last few inches just to keep the rally going. And with a desperate lob, she sends the ball soaring high into the air, giving you enough time to deliver a crushing overhead smash that lands just inside the baseline, completely out of Taeyeon's reach.

As the ball connects with the court, a sense of triumph washes over you, pumping your fist in the air. You managed to buy yourself some room to breathe in this fiery match and gain a much-needed point, leveling the score at 40-40. Taeyeon recovers herself from her dive, letting out a sigh as she recovers her breathing. You're exhausted yourself, struggling to catch your breath after the intense rally. But there's no time to rest. You lock eyes with her, both of your eyes burning with determination to win over the other. The next serve could very well be the turning point of the entire match.

Once again, it's your turn to serve. Everything is suddenly hazy as if the world around you blurs into a complete mess of colors. All that's clear in your eyes are the ball in your hands, the lines on the court, and the woman in front of you. It could be the adrenaline. It could be the fear of losing. It could be anything. But none of that matters. Send the ball her way, swing it back if she dares to return it, repeat.

The next few rounds are nothing but intense back-and-forth as you and Taeyeon fight for every point. The ball flies across the court in a flurry of precise shots and strategic placement. You're tired as hell, and maybe, so is she. But neither of you can afford to let up even for a moment, not even an inch, as the score remains neck and neck.

After a few deuces and grueling rallies, the tension on the court reaches its peak. She has managed to bring the score to what could potentially be the final point of the entire match. You're both sweating profusely, your bodies glistening under the harsh stadium lights. The cold air that should be a reprieve feels suffocating against your heated skin. She could be on her last legs, but you're kind of on the same page.

You prepare yourself as Taeyeon prepares her to serve, her eyes locked on yours like a hawk, unwavering and intense. Her serve is swift, darting through the air with deadly accuracy. You react quickly, heading forward to meet the ball with a powerful forehand return. She then easily steps into position, returning the ball with a soft backhand shot. You match her shot with a well-executed slice, aiming to throw her off balance. But she still manages to reach the ball with a quick flick of her wrist, sending it sailing over the net with surprising speed and precision.

As the ball hurtles towards you, you summon every ounce of your pent-up aggression to smack the ball back with an explosive topspin shot, making the ball draw a sharp curve towards the sideline. This is all you have left. You can feel your strength draining as you shout your heart out with that final, desperate shot.

Unfortunately… Your tough opponent, Taeyeon, is right there, ready and waiting.

In a matter of seconds, the distance between her and the ball closes as she lunges forward, her body contorting with the grace and agility of a seasoned athlete. And as she swings her racket in a cross through the air, you know that she isn't just going to return the ball - she's sealing the deal with her Drive T. She hits the ball with such power that it spins wildly as soon as it's airborne. You watch it making its landing not far from you and with your heart pounding, you scramble to retrieve it. But with the ball's unpredictable spin, it bounces away from you instead of it landing in your control.

And as the ball bounces down to a stop, Taeyeon wins the match, winning 2 sets to 1.

"Yay! I won!"

She screams in joy and hops up and down with excitement as if all her exhaustion has instantly evaporated. Meanwhile, you collapse to the ground, completely outplayed and spent. As she celebrates her victory, she notices that you've been anchored to the ground. She makes her way towards you, skipping lightly in joy.

Trying not to feel bitter about your defeat, you raise your hand, giving her a thumbs up and a genuine smile. She responds in kind, before extending her hand to help you up.

"Well, looks like you took the match. That was nice," you say as you sit up, catching your breath as you try to compose yourself after the intense match.

"Thanks. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just need a moment to recover. My legs feel like they're burning, though."

"Oh. Same here… But I'm good."

"Damn. How do you even do that?"

"I told you many times to work on your legs! I always tell you to do more than just jog," she scolds you as if losing to her wasn't enough.

"Alright, alright," you reply, rolling your eyes. "I'll start next week."

"Well you better be," she chuckles, tapping her racket lightly against your shoulder.

You chuckle amidst the exhaustion, the frustration you felt at losing to Taeyeon fading away.

"So, is that your dare for me?" you ask her.

"Hmmm?"

"You won, right?"

"Oh! Right! The bet!" Taeyeon's eyes then widened in realization.

You shake your head lightly, amused by her sudden forgetfulness.

"And you still deny that you're old—ow!"

She smacks you again with her racket, albeit harder this time.

"What did I just say about calling me old?"

"Okay, okay! Jeez, what a killjoy," you mutter, rubbing your shoulder.

"What was that?" she taunts, preparing to hit you again.

"Nothing! I said nothing," you quickly respond, trying to diffuse the situation.

"Good!" she exclaims, giggling.

"Now, what do you want me to do?" you repeat, trying not to provoke her.

Her attitude changes quickly.

"You're actually gonna go through with it?"

"I mean, you won, so…"

"Are you sure?"

"Come on, just tell me what you want me to do," you urge her.

She pauses for a moment, contemplating the terms of her victory.

"Well, since I beat you pretty badly…"

"That was close," you protest, only to earn a glare from her.

"It wasn't. Now shut up and listen."

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod.

"Y'know what? You look like a tired mess right there. Let's head over to the bench and I'll think of a good prize."

"But my body's still—"

She lets out a loud, exasperated sigh.

"Alright. Get up, you lousy ass," she extends her hand, offering to pull you up.

You take it and let her lead the way to the benches. It's not that far, but the short walk to the benches is enough to make your knees wobble and legs ache. The two of you collapse onto the bench, finally able to relax and rest for a bit.

"Jeez, I didn't think the match was gonna be that hard. You did really well," she says, giving you a soft pat on the shoulder.

"Well… I was against you, after all. Of course, it'll be hard," you respond, your tone slightly annoyed.

"Hey! Don't get me wrong. It's still a nice game."

"I guess. Thanks," you say, shrugging.

A moment of silence ensues, and the two of you sit quietly, basking in the cool air. Despite feeling sore, a little break is all you need to recharge after the intense game. You then look at Taeyeon, and she doesn't seem to show any signs of exhaustion, despite sweating profusely and having her breath ragged after the match.

"Say, how come you don't look as tired as I am?" you ask her, breaking the silence.

"Well, for starters, I've got a lot more years of experience than you," she quips, grinning smugly.

You roll your eyes and sigh, too tired to give a smart retort.

"But seriously, though. You should take better care of your body. You're still young," she says, her tone sounding more like a concerned mother than a friend.

"You've been saying that for a while now," you grumble.

"Well, that's because I was your teacher! Jeez! Don't be so stubborn," she protests, giving your shoulder a light shove.

"I'm not being stubborn. I'm just tired," you then let out another deep breath. "You took all the air out of me"

"Exactly. And that's why I'm telling you to take care of your body better," she says, her tone firm.

"Okay, fine," you concede.

"Now, shall we move on?"

"Sure. Let's talk about my dare," you say, eager to finally know what she wants.

"Right. Are you sure you're in on this?"

"I'm sure. Yeah," you assure her.

"100%? No take-backs, okay?"

"If it's not anything too extreme."

"Don't worry. It's nothing like that."

You look at her, and she smirks at you. Something tells you that you'll regret this, but curiosity gets the better of you.

"Fine. Shoot it."

"Pull down your shorts."

Your jaw hangs open. You expected her to ask for a silly dare, like a funny photo or something along those lines. But this? You didn't expect this at all.

"H-huh? W-what did you just say?" you stammer, your cheeks burning red.

"Come on. It's not gonna kill you."

"But… That's—"

"Just a little fun, really."

You're speechless, your eyes wide as you process the words.

"I… I don't think I can do that."

"Hey. The deal was the loser has to do everything the winner asks, right? You lost. So, do it."

You swallow the lump in your throat and sigh. There's no getting around this.

"Okay… Fine," you reluctantly agree, slowly sliding down your shorts.

The fabric brushes against your skin, sending shivers up your spine. Your heart beats fast, your palms sweating profusely as you slowly reveal more and more of your bare thighs. Your boxers are the only thing separating your modesty from the woman sitting beside you, and you can't deny her the sight of your growing erection.

Taeyeon's lips curl into a satisfied grin, and she bites her lower lip as she sees the tent forming between your legs.

"You're really turned on by this, huh?" she says, teasing you.

"It… It's not like that, I swear."

"Sure, whatever you say," she giggles.

"So… Is this it? Did I pass the dare?" you ask, trying to change the subject.

"Well, technically… But now I'm interested in something else," she replies, her voice dropping an octave.

"And? What would that be?"

"Let's just say I want to see what's underneath those boxers."

Your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach, and you instinctively cross your legs.

"Noona… There could be people watching us," you tell her, scanning the entire area.

"It's 3 AM. Do you think those guards will even bother walking around at this hour? No one's gonna see," she reasons.

"But…"

"The deal?"

"Okay, fine. I'll do it."

Slowly, you take a deep breath and reach down for your boxers.

"Ugh… What am I doing?" you mumble, cursing at yourself.

You grab the hem and pull down the fabric grazing against your shaft. Your erection springs up, freed from the confines of your underwear.

"Wow. Now that's quite a view," Taeyeon chuckles, ogling your exposed member.

You turn away, too embarrassed to look her in the eye.

"I'm sorry. This is so embarrassing," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Hey. Don't be. Especially when you have this…" she bites her lip, her eyes fixated on your dick. "Big thing right there."

Your cheeks burn a bright red, and you feel like you could explode.

"You're kidding me, right?"

"Of course not! Come on, you can't tell me it's not hot."

You stay silent, unable to answer.

"Alright. Lemme suck that," she says, leaning in closer to you.

"W-what? Y-you can't be serious!"

"Hey. No take-backs."

"But this is—"

"Listen. You clearly look like you're not in on this."

"I… I didn't say that…"

"So? What's with the hesitation?"

"I-it's just that… This is kind of sudden," you reply, unable to think straight.

"Then let me ease you into it," she says, grabbing your dick with her hand.

Your breath hitches, the sudden contact of her soft hand against your sensitive shaft taking you by surprise. She slowly moves her hand up and down, gently massaging your dick. You can't help but let out a low moan as her fingers run across the tip, sending shivers down your spine.

"How does that feel?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I-I don't know…" you manage to say, your mind in a daze.

She smirks at your reaction, totally getting turned on by your response.

"You did your best so… I'll give you a consolation prize."

"H-huh? What do you mean?"

Before you can say anything, she leans in, her face just inches away from your cock.

"Wait… You can't be serious. You're going to—"

"Let me give you a little treat. You can tell me to stop after, but I hope you won't,” she says, her warm breath brushing against your shaft. “It'll be a shame, really,"

You're speechless, your mouth hanging open as you stare at her in disbelief.

"Well, here I go," she announces, leaning forward and enveloping your cock with her lips.

The sudden warmth sends a shock through your body, and you let out a moan, throwing your head back in pleasure. She starts sucking on the tip, and her tongue swirls around the head, lapping up the beads of precum. You can't believe it, but it feels so good. Your breathing quickens as she continues to suck, taking your dick deeper into her mouth. She moans against your cock, and you can feel her voice vibrating through your shaft.

"Oh, fuck…" you curse, the pleasure driving you insane.

She then grabs the base of your shaft with her hand and starts stroking you in sync with her mouth. The sensation is overwhelming, and you can't help but grab a fistful of her hair, gripping it tightly. She picks up the pace, her hand moving faster as her head bobs up and down. Her eyes lock with yours, and she's clearly enjoying this. You can see the lust in her eyes, and it's all too much for you.

The pressure builds up, your mind goes blank, and all you can think about is the intense pleasure coursing through your body. Your muscles tense up, and before you know it, your body starts shaking uncontrollably. You can feel your balls tightening, and the urge to cum is overwhelming.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum!"

With one final thrust, you unload your seed into her mouth. Taeyeon suddenly looks surprised as you unleash a torrent of cum, filling her mouth. She then pulls out, coughing, the excess dripping down her chin.

"Sorry! I didn't know if you were ready," you apologize, worried that you might have forced her.

She continues to cough, and she wipes the excess cum off her face, taking a moment to catch her breath.

"It's okay. I was kinda taken by surprise, but it's fine," she manages to say, giving you a reassuring smile.

"I'm so sorry. I just couldn't hold it any longer," you apologize again, embarrassed by what happened.

"I told you it's okay," she tells you.

"Well… If you say so."

"And besides… It's not every day that I get to do it with a virgin," she winks as she lets out a soft laugh.

"Hey! I'm no virgin!" you protest, trying to defend your ego.

"Is that so?" she teases, raising an eyebrow playfully.

"I… I've experienced this before," you mutter.

"Sure, and that's why I got a mouthful," she chuckles, licking her lips.

"I was… I was holding out!" you retort.

"But of course," she laughs. "Just admit that you're a total virgin."

You're left speechless, unable to defend yourself. She just grins at you, clearly amused by your reaction. You want to say something, but she has you beat.

"Alright… Off to the next one!" she then exclaims, looking rather excited.

"Next one?"

"You didn't think I was just gonna leave you like this, did you? We're just getting started," she winks, giving your dick a squeeze.

"Wait, what?"

"That was just the warm-up. I have a lot of other things planned for us."

"Like what?"

"Let's just say this is gonna be the night of your life. And by the time the sun rises, you'll be thanking me,"

"I'm not so sure about this…"

"Trust me. I know what I'm doing," she reassures you, flashing you a devious smile.

She lets go of your dick. You feel relieved that her tight grip is no longer on your throbbing cock, but also a bit disappointed at the loss of her warm touch. She then takes off her clothes, exposing her voluptuous body. Her breasts are barely covered by an orange lace bra, and her hips are accentuated by a matching thong. You gulp as you take in the sight, and you can feel your dick getting even harder.

"What's wrong? Getting nervous?" she asks, giggling.

"Uh, yeah. This is really sudden. I'm not sure what's going on," you admit, unable to look away from her gorgeous body.

"Come on, it's nothing you can't handle. Just enjoy it," she says, grabbing your hand and placing it on her waist.

You can't deny the electricity that runs through your body the moment her skin makes contact with yours. Her body is so soft and warm, and it feels so good to touch her. It's intoxicating at the least, and you can't help but be swept up by the moment.

"Now, I'll let you have a taste of my body. You better make the most of it," she whispers, her lips brushing against your ear.

You let out a soft moan, the sensation driving you wild.

"So? What are you waiting for?"

"I…"

"It's okay. You can touch me," she assures you, guiding your hands towards her breasts.

"But, Noona…"

"Touch me more."

You hesitate for a moment, but she urges you on, and you give in.

Your fingers trace the outline of her bra, feeling her erect nipples through the fabric. As if by instinct, you gently squeeze her breasts, eliciting a moan from her.

"Mmmh… That's it. More," she purrs, arching her back.

Your heart races as her breasts push against your palms, her nipples rubbing against the thin material of her bra. The friction feels incredible, and the pleasure drives you crazy. You're not sure how much longer you can hold out, but you don't want it to end.

"You're so cute. You look like you're enjoying this," she teases, smiling.

Guilty as charged.

"Just relax. I'll take care of everything."

She then presses her lips against yours, her tongue pushing past your lips. Your tongues dance, and you savor her sweet taste. She then nibbles on your lower lip, and you can't help but moan.

"Nggh! Noona, wait," you breathe out, pulling away from her.

"Hmm? What's wrong?"

"I… I think this is too fast."

She giggles. "Awh. Poor thing."

She then cups your face with her hand and kisses you again, a much slower, passionate kiss this time. You feel her smile against your lips, and it sends a shiver down your spine. It feels so good, so addicting. Yet you don't want to admit it.

"Taeyeon-noona, I…"

"Do you want to take it slow?"

You only gave her a nod.

"There. Just tell me what you want."

She then reaches back and unhooks her bra, tossing it to the side. Her bare breasts glisten under the dim lighting, and you can't help but stare in awe.

"There. I hope this evens us out," she smirks. You can see her cheeks blushing as she puts her magnificent assets on full display.

"Y-you don't have to, y'know? I'm fine with—"

Before you can utter another word, she pulls you towards her, pressing your face against her plump, supple breasts. Muffled, you try to push back, but she holds you firmly against her, not letting go. The warmth of her skin and the softness of her breasts overwhelm your senses, slowly melting your hesitations away.

Before you know it, you feel your hands explore the rest of her exposed body, gliding across everything you can reach.

She can't help but laugh and moan simultaneously as you explore her body.

"Getting braver, aren’t we?"

You choose not to answer and instead let your actions speak for you.

Taeyeon's skin feels so soft and smooth, and it's a wonder to touch. You can't help but want to touch her even more, to explore every inch of her. You suck on her erect nipples, and her breath hitches, letting out a soft moan.

"That's it. Take it all in," she whispers, running her fingers through your hair.

Your heart races as her scent fills your nose, and it's driving you crazy. You can't help but want more, and you feel yourself getting lost in the moment.

"Taeyeon-noona…"

"Shhhh… Don't say a word. Just enjoy it," she replies, her voice low and seductive.

Obliging, you continue to taste her, relishing in the sweet, salty taste of her skin. Your hands travel across her body, touching every inch of her. She bites her lip and arches her back as you trace the curve of her spine, and her breathing quickens as you explore her thighs.

"Oh, fuck…" she breathes out, her voice barely above a whisper.

Your hands then find their way to her butt, and you squeeze her cheeks, feeling the soft, firm flesh in your hands. She looks at you with lustful eyes, and you can see the desire written all over her face.

"Oh, my… You're getting good at this," she purrs, smiling seductively.

You blush slightly, her compliment clearly lifting your confidence. You shoot a smile back at her, fueled with confidence and hunger for more. She smirks at your newfound boldness, welcoming your hunger with equal enthusiasm.

Your lips lock with hers for another round of torrid passion, the heat between your bodies intensifying with each passing second. Your tongues dance in a fiery tango, exploring every crevice and making each other elicit a fervent moan. Neither of you is backing down, eager to win over the other as if your earlier spar wasn't enough.

"Noona, you're… Amazing," you manage to gasp between heated kisses, unable to contain the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body.

She smirks. "You're no slouch either."

"But, you… I…"

"Mhhh… Don't stop now," Taeyeon whispers, her voice dripping with need.

"But let me just…" you struggle to remove your shirt despite the urgency of the moment.

With her expert guidance, you quickly shed your shirt and throw it aside, giving your partner an unobstructed view of your bare chest.

"There we go. Better?"

"Yeah. You were on top of me so I had trouble taking it off." you jest, a playful smirk spreading across your face.

She then chuckles, hitting you playfully on the shoulder.

"And you blame me for that?"

"Why not? You keep on pushing me down."

"Jeez… I'm not that heavy, you know?"

"I know, I know. You're just so aggressive," you tease, running your fingers through her skin.

Taeyeon coos at your touch, her body pulsating with desire.

"Hmmm? Is that your way of flirting with me?"

You shrug. "Well… It's worth a shot."

She replies with a soft chuckle.

"Consider it a successful shot," she breathes, her voice laced with lust.

You blush, feeling a surge of pride at having successfully aroused Taeyeon.

"Well… Thank you."

"Then let's get back to it, shall we?" She purrs, her hands eagerly tracing the contours of your chest all the way to your abdomen. You shiver at her touch, goosebumps appearing on your skin.

She then looks at you with an inviting gaze, and her lips curl into a sly grin. You can't help but stare in awe, mesmerized by her beauty.

"W-what? Do I have something on my face?"

"No, silly," she giggles. "I want you to touch me, too."

"Oh. Right."

"I can't be the only one enjoying this, y'know?"

"My bad, noona."

You resume your passionate makeout session. The two of you moan against each other's lips, exploring each other's bodies. The two of you are so lost in the moment that the world around you begins to fade, and all that matters is the heat, the electricity, the passion.

"Fuck. You taste so good," Taeyeon moans, her voice dripping with lust.

"Mmmh… You do too. Fuck," you reply, the heat and desire growing within you.

"But seriously…"

"Hmmm?"

"Learn to get a hint," she giggles.

"Heh. Sorry," you mumble, trying to regain control. "I was kinda lost."

"Understandable," she snickers. "It's your first time, after all."

"H-hey. You're making me sound like a virgin."

"Well… You kinda are."

"Come on now…"

Taeyeon can't help but chuckle at your response, amused by your reaction.

"Fine. Let's not talk about that."

"I'm not that innocent, you know," you retort, pouting.

"Really, now?"

"Y-yeah. Really."

"So you wouldn't mind if we take things further… Right?"

You gulp, suddenly aware of what she means.

"Well… I guess?"

"Good."

She then reaches down and slowly pulls down her panties. You just realize how wet she is as you stare in awe. She then grabs your hand and leads it to her core. You hesitate for a moment, but she guides you, urging you to take things further.

"It's okay. You can touch me."

You gently cup her mound, feeling the slickness of her wet folds. Her pussy is hot, and her juices flow freely. She shudders as your fingers brush against her sensitive bud, and her body tenses up.

"Yes… That's it!" she moans, biting her lip.

"Is this it? Are you sure?"

"Mhmm… Just go ahead."

Your fingers explore her core, and you find her swollen clit. You rub her bundle of nerves in a circular motion, eliciting a sharp gasp from her.

"Oh, fuck! That feels so good."

"Are you sure? Am I doing it right?"

"Yes! Just keep going," she moans, her voice barely above a whisper.

You increase the pace, applying a bit more pressure. She writhes under your touch, her body trembling with pleasure.

"F-fuck… Y-yes!" she moans, her voice shaking.

The heat is building within you, and you can't hold back any longer. You decide to switch positions, with Taeyeon now resting her body on the bench. At this view, she looks so small, so inviting. You proceed to kiss her thighs as your hand continues its assault.

"Mmmh! Oh shit! Yes! Keep going!"

You then kiss her core, licking her wet folds. She shrieks, her voice ringing in your ears. She grabs a fistful of your hair, holding on for dear life. You then lick her clit, eliciting a loud moan from her. She can't hold on much longer, her body writhing in ecstasy.

"Fuck! You're so good! I'm… I'm close!"

You can't help but be proud, and you redouble your efforts, sucking on her clit. She arches her back, and she screams, her orgasm tearing through her body.

"I'm gonna cum! Shit! I'm gonna fucking—aghh!"

You watch as her body spasms, and her legs quiver. She rides out her orgasm, her body trembling with each wave of pleasure. She finally collapses, panting, her body slick with sweat.

"Holy shit. That was… Amazing," she breathes, her voice shaky.

"Did… Did I do good?"

"Of course, you did. Not bad for a first-timer."

"Well… Thanks."

"Now, let me return the favor," she says, a smirk spreading across her face.

"What do you mean?"

"It's your turn now," she says, licking her lips.

"B-but I already—"

She interrupts, putting a finger against your lips.

"I know you have some left in you" Her hands move down towards your privates, massaging every bit of it. "And besides…"

She then leans over and whispers to your ear, her voice seductive.

"I'm still not satisfied."

As if on cue, you can feel your member throbbing in response, as if beckoning her to touch you even more.

"Looks like someone's ready for more," she giggles.

"Hey… I'm just sensitive," you protest, looking at her with your best puppy-dog eyes.

Taeyeon lets out a laugh, seemingly caught off-guard by your adorable attempt at innocence.

"Oh, cut that out. That doesn't suit you in the slightest," she playfully retorts.

"I just thought I'd give it a try," you reply, looking disappointed.

"Don't you ever do that again, alright?"

"Why not?"

She then pulls you closer. You can see the sheer desire in her eyes burning through her gaze. She seems to want more from you than just a casual encounter.

"I don't want cute and innocent from you."

"Then what do you want?"

"I want you to be as fierce as you were earlier," she whispers, her tone low and seductive.

"As you wish, Miss Winner," you say, a cheeky grin spreading across your face.

"Show me what you got," she says, her tone challenging.

Without a moment's hesitation, you crash your lips against hers for yet another round, kissing her passionately. She reciprocates, and her hands grip your body, her nails digging into your skin. It hurts, but the pain is drowned out by the intense pleasure.

You break the kiss and attack her neck, nibbling on her soft flesh. She moans, and her hands wrap around your back, pulling you closer. You continue your assault, and she writhes underneath you, her breathing ragged.

"Ooh, shit! Yes! That's it!" she gasps, her voice cracking.

You continue your trail down her body, planting soft kisses along her collarbone. She whimpers, and her hands run through your hair, encouraging you to keep going. You then move further south, planting a soft kiss on her chest, right between her breasts.

"Yes… Yes! Please, keep going," she whispers, her voice breathy and needy.

You then plant another kiss on her left breast, followed by a soft bite on her nipple, making her whimper.

"Ahh shit!" she groans, her body shaking with pleasure.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No… Please don't," she pleads, her voice dripping with need.

"Well then," you say, kissing her other breast, biting her nipple.

"Oh, fuck!"

"Like that?"

"Yes! I like that!"

"What about this?"

You move further south, trailing kisses down her belly. She moans as your lips caress her skin, her body writhing with pleasure. You then reach her thighs, and you give them a soft kiss.

"Yes! Oh, god!" she moans, her body trembling.

You then spread her legs apart, exposing her pink pussy, glistening with her juices.

"Oh, fuck. Look at you," you marvel, staring at her womanhood.

"I know. It's fucking amazing," she says, a satisfied smile on her face.

You then move closer, and your tongue finds her slit. You slowly drag your tongue along her wet folds, eliciting a moan from her. She throws her head back, her eyes closed, as she relishes in the sensation.

"Shit! There it goes again! That fucking tongue!"

"Do you want me to stop?"

She opens her eyes, staring right at you.

"No! Don't you fucking dare!"

"Alright," you chuckle, continuing your assault.

You lap at her wet folds, lapping up her juices. You savor her sweet, musky taste, and it makes you feel drunk.

"Ooh, shit! That's the spot," she gasps, her hands gripping the back of your head.

You continue your assault, licking her clit and teasing her wet entrance. Her body trembles and her moans get louder.

"Ooh, fuck! I'm getting close," she pants, her voice shaky.

You intensify your assault, sucking on her clit while inserting two fingers inside her.

"Are you gonna cum?" you ask, staring right into her eyes.

"I'm… I'm close," she whimpers, her voice barely audible.

"Do you want to?"

"Yes… Yes! I want to cum!" she gasps, her hips bucking.

As her screams go a few pitches higher, you let go of her. Taeyeon is left hanging, her body shaking with frustration.

"Huh? W-what the fuck?"

"I don't want you to cum yet," you explain.

"But I was so close, you fuck! You could've—"

You withdraw fully from assaulting her core, only to show her your own erection standing at full attention.

"I could've just let you cum…"

You position your shaft against her pussy, brushing her entrance.

"But I want to do it…"

You rub your shaft against her wet slit, making her groan.

"When I'm inside you."

"Oh f-fuck," she bites her lip, anticipating your next move.

"This is what you wanted all along, right?"

You press your tip against her entrance, and her eyes widen.

"Yes. You finally get—ooh!"

You continue to tease her, rubbing your cock against her entrance.

"Then, shall I?"

"Yes. I want you to—agh fuck!"

"Tell me how much you want it."

"I… I want it! I want you to fuck me!"

You continue to tease her, pushing the tip of your cock into her, making her moan.

"I don't think you're sincere, noona," you tease, pushing your cock further into her.

"Fuck you! Stop teasing me and start fucking me, you asshole!" she cries out in desperation.

"Then tell it to me like you mean it," you tell her, tapping her entrance with your length.

Her hips then shake as if begging for something. Her breathing is heavy, and her eyes are filled with lust and need.

"Please… I need it," she whimpers, her voice shaking and full of need.

"Then say it, Taeyeon."

She grits her teeth, and her eyes glaring at you, filled with both anger and frustration.

"Fuck me, alright? Fuck me like you mean it! I want you to fill me up and make me cum! Make me scream! Make me fucking lose my mind! I need it! I need your fucking dick inside me! Right. Fucking. Now!"

Without warning, you push your cock into her, eliciting a cry of both pain and pleasure from her.

"You mean like this?"

"Ah! Ahh fuck!"

You slam your cock into her, and she moans, her body shuddering.

"Enjoying this, aren't you, noona?"

"Fuck… I'm really gonna cum!"

Her back arches and her hands grip the bench. You continue to fuck her, and her moans get louder. You can feel her pussy tightening around your cock, and her body trembles.

"Shit! Shit! I'm cumming—ahh!"

Taeyeon screams, her body quaking in pleasure as her orgasm rocks through her body. Excess fluids gush from her core, coating your shaft and dribbling onto the bench, until it creates a small puddle underneath. You can't help but smile as you watch her, her expression filled with pure ecstasy.

She then falls limp, her body relaxing as her orgasm subsides. She looks at you, a satisfied smile on her face.

"How was it, noona? Was it good?"

"That was… Incredible," she manages to say, her voice still shaky.

"I'm glad I was able to satisfy you," you chuckle, pulling her into an embrace.

"Yeah… You did good for a newbie," she smirks, chuckling.

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. But you still have a lot to—ooh!"

You slam your cock into her, catching her by surprise.

"You say that but…"

You thrust in and out, and her eyes widen.

"Looks like you're losing your mind…"

"Oh fuck."

"To a virgin," you slam your cock deep inside her, her body shaking.

"Ahh! This fucking cock! Ahh!"

"So, tell me… What was that you said again?"

You pound her relentlessly, and her moans get louder. Her body shakes, and her breathing is ragged. For a stick-up mentor and tennis partner, she sure is enjoying her role reversal.

"I… I can't… Fuck! Oh, shit!"

"Pretty please?" you ask, slowing down the pace of your thrusts.

"N-no! No! Please don't slow down!" she pleads, her voice trembling.

"Then say it."

"Oh fuck you—ahh! I can't take it anymore!"

"I can do this all day."

"Agh! You asshole!"

You slam into her, and she screams, her body convulsing.

"Fuck! Not that spot!"

"Say it, Taeyeon. Say it."

With her face painted red in anger and embarrassment, she gives in.

"F-fine. Fine! You… I love your fucking cock! Your fucking virgin cock!" she screams at the top of her lungs, her voice echoing through the court.

"That's it. Let everyone hear you."

"Oh, fuck. I fucking love you," she moans, her voice dripping with need.

Her last few words catch you off-guard, but the sight of her drunk-hazed face and her pleasured moans make you forget it almost immediately.

"Then I'm yours."

You slam into her once more, and her eyes roll to the back of her head. With arms around your back, she pulls you in as she incoherently screams into your ear. Taeyeon has finally lost her mind, and you love to see it.

"Oh fuhg… It'sh sho gud!"

"What is good, huh? Tell me."

"Y-your cock… Your cock ish sho gud," she whimpers, her body spasming.

"And how does my cock feel inside you?"

"Sho big… It'sh filling my pusshy sho mush!"

"And whose is it?"

"Yoursh! All yours! My pusshy ish yoursh!"

"I can't quite hear you, noona."

"Your pusshy! It'sh all yoursh!"

"Good. Keep telling me. I love to hear it."

"Aahhh… Y-your cock… Fuck me more!"

You fuck her senseless, and her body writhes in pleasure. She continues to babble nonsense, her mind gone blank from the pleasure. You continue to slam into her, her tight cunt sucking in your shaft. You can feel her walls clenching, her pussy desperate to milk your cock.

"Taeyeon-noona, fuck… You feel so good."

"Aah! More! Give me more!"

"You want more? How about this?"

You then pick her up and fuck her as she's suspended in the air. Her eyes widen, and her mouth is agape.

"Oh fuhk… No. No!

She screams, and her legs wrap around your waist. You hold onto her tight, and your pace quickens.

"Oh, shit! You're sho deep!"

"You like that, huh?"

"Ahh… Y-yesh… More… Harder!"

"As you wish, noona."

You increase your pace, slamming into her faster and harder. With her light, small frame, you can go deeper than before, as if it's nothing. Or maybe all that rigorous training is finally paying off.

"Oh fuck! Fuck!"

"You like that, huh?"

"Y-yesh… I like it…"

"Good. Now, let me give you a reward."

You thrust faster and deeper, and her moans get louder. And as you do, you can feel your balls churn, the pressure building within them.

"Oh, fuck. Taeyeon-noona, I'm going to cum soon," you warn her, feeling the sensation rising.

"Yesh… Ghiv me your cum!"

"Are you sure? Are you sure you can handle it?"

"Yesh! Let me have it!"

"Alright then."

You amp up the pace as you reach your climax, and your thrusts get harder and faster. Her body is shaking, and her voice cracks as she moans uncontrollably.

"Oh fuhk! Here it cumsh!"

You slam into her one last time, burying your cock deep inside her. With a loud moan, you erupt, unloading a torrent of hot, thick cum. She screams, her voice ringing through the court, as your load fills her up, flooding her womb with seed. She clenches her eyes shut, and her hands grip your shoulders, holding on for dear life.

"Shit, noona… I can't stop!"

"Jush giv it all to me!"

You keep pouring into her, not stopping for a moment. Her body shakes, and her pussy tightens, squeezing out every last drop. You feel like you're being squeezed dry. Painful, yes, but you can't help but moan at the overwhelming pleasure.

"Oh fuck… I think I'm done…" you finally gasp, your thrusts slowing down.

"Ahh… So mush cum…" she sighs, her voice breathy and sultry.

You pull out of her, and her eyes are unfocused. A deluge of white ooze seeps out of her pink hole, a mixture of your fluids and hers. You can't believe the amount you have ejected, and neither can Taeyeon, as it creates a larger puddle on the ground.

"Holy shit," she gasps, her glazed eyes widening with disbelief.

"Fuck… I think I went overboard," you tell her, watching your semen flow out of her.

"You let out… So much…" she breathes, her weak body barely holding her upright.

"Well, I couldn't control myself. Not with you."

"Hahh… Thanks," she smiles, a hint of pride in her tone.

You both catch your breaths, the smell of sex hanging heavily in the air. Your body tells you that you've exhausted your reserves, and maybe so did Taeyeon's. But the sight and sound of your previous actions still linger in your head and your desire for more remains.

"Say… Noona…"

"Yeah."

Your shaft slowly stands back up, throbbing at her entrance and eager to continue. She lets out a soft gasp as she notices your eagerness. You can see the hesitation in her eyes, fueling your hunger even more.

"Can we?"

"You're restless today, aren't you?" she giggles.

"Can't help it," you grin, rubbing your length against her slit.

"Fuck… That feels so good," she moans, closing her eyes.

"So? Can we?"

"Hmmm… Alright. I guess one more time wouldn't hurt."

"Thank you," you tell her, a big grin forming on your face.

"So, what do you want to—whoa!"

Before she could finish, you swiftly lowered her to the ground and spread her legs apart. You position yourself in front of her, your shaft poised and ready. She looks at your erection, her face flushing a shade of red.

"Fuck… Here we go again," she sighs, anticipation in her eyes.

You then guide your shaft into her, and she whimpers, her pussy swallowing you whole.

"Urgh! You're so fucking tight, noona!"

"More like you're too fucking big," she grunts, her walls straining to accommodate your girth.

"And you're loving it," you reply, smiling sheepishly.

"Mhmm…" she nods, biting her lip.

"That's what I like to hear," you smirk, and without warning, start thrusting.

"Ahh! Oh shit! Fuck me harder!"

You comply, slamming your cock into her at a rapid pace. Her voice echoes through the court, a melody that fills you with immense satisfaction. The sound of her skin slapping against yours only adds to the pleasure, and you find yourself thrusting even harder.

"Fuck… Yes… Harder! Fucking pound my pussy!"

You slam into her faster, harder, and deeper. Her body writhes with pleasure, her hips bucking and her legs quivering. She can't help but wrap her arms around you, her hands digging into your skin. Her legs also have you locked in, the intensity of her hold surprising.

"Shit, Taeyeon-noona… You're so good," you groan, relishing the tightness of her pussy.

"Yes! Fuck! Right there! Keep fucking me like that!" she cries, her voice cracking.

"Here? Like this?"

You hit a spot inside her, and her body jolts.

"Aghh! Yes! There! Right fucking there!"

"You like that?"

"Yes! Fuck! I fucking love it!"

You continue to slam into her, wild like a beast in heat, hitting the same spot over and over again. She can't stop screaming, her voice cracking and her body shuddering with pleasure. and her pussy clenches around you, tightening even more. You can't help but let out a groan, the sensation driving you mad. You feel her orgasm coming, and you're not far behind.

"Shit… Noona, I'm gonna cum again!"

"Me too… Me too!"

"Hrgh! Here it goes! Take it all!"

"Yes! Cum with me! Cum inside me! Fill me up with your fucking cum!"

You feel the pressure rising, and you can't hold it any longer. You ram your cock deep into her, and with one last thrust, you let out a primal roar, releasing a torrent of hot cum into her. She screams, her voice ringing through the court as your thick load fills her up once again.

She cums right after, her pussy convulsing around your cock, unleashing a flood of her own juices. As if a dam had been burst, her fluids flowed freely, gushing out of her pussy and coating your cock. It's as if you're drowning, the intensity is overwhelming.

"Oh fukh! There'sh sho mush!"

"Taeyeon… You're so… Tight!" you gasp, your cock trapped by her pussy.

Not that you can, nor that you could. Your hips continue to buck, the pleasure almost unbearable. It's as if her cunt is trying to squeeze every last drop out of you, and it's succeeding. You keep pouring into her, filling her womb up to the brim.

"Ahh! It'sh not shtopping! Your cum ish sho mush!"

As your thrusts come to a halt, you slam your cock one last time, burying yourself deep inside her. Excess fluid squirts out of her, adding to the already impressive puddle underneath you. You can feel her pussy milking your shaft, squeezing out the last drop of cum.

After what seems like an eternity, your orgasm subsides, and you slowly pull out of her, your cock still oozing with cum. She sighs, and a copious amount of white liquid drips from her entrance. A mixture of both your cum and hers. After your earlier outburst, you can't believe how much you manage to let out, and neither could she.

"Fughk… Sho mush…" she pants, her eyes glassy.

"Noona… That was intense," you tell her, trying to catch your breath.

"Fuhk. Yes… I feel sho dihzzy."

You can't help but chuckle at her expression, her face flushed with exhaustion.

"Hey. Are you okay?"

"Yeah… I guesh," she mumbles, a sleepy smile spreading across her face.

You then carry her as you sit on the bench, her exhausted body resting against yours. With her remaining strength, she slowly wraps her arms around your back, pulling herself closer. You reciprocate, enveloping her in a tight embrace.

"Ow, ow!"

"What? What's wrong?"

"You're hugging me too hard!"

"Oh. Sorry. I went overboard, noona."

"Heh. Don't be," she laughs, nuzzling against you.

The two of you spend some time recovering from your intense session, the cool breeze a nice reprieve from the sweltering. She then looks up at you, her eyes full of desire.

"What? Do you want more?" you ask.

"No, I'm tired… Just hold me, okay?"

"If you say so," you chuckle, giving her a soft peck on the forehead.

She giggles, snuggling against you.

"We were kinda loud, weren't we?"

"Maybe."

"Do you think someone saw us?"

"I hope not," you chuckle, rubbing her shoulders.

"I do!"

From somewhere on the bleachers, a man's voice suddenly blurts out, emerges, the sound of his shoes echoing through the court. Your heart sinks as the two of you search for the source, finding a man sitting on the bleachers.

"Oh shit. There was someone," you gasp, your face flushing with embarrassment.

"Sorry for not telling you two," the stranger, wearing what might me a janitor's uniform, apologizes, looking rather bashful.

"How long were you there?" Taeyeon asks, yelling, her voice tinged with embarrassment.

"I heard screaming and moaning, so I went to check it out. And there I saw the two of you going at it."

"And you didn't stop us?" she retorts.

"Why would I? You lovebirds seem to be enjoying it," the stranger says, his tone nonchalant.

You and Taeyeon then exchanged glances, your faces blushing red.

"And besides…"

The two of you look back at the stranger.

"Security here doesn't give a shit during these hours."

"Really? Do they not monitor the cameras?"

"They do."

You both shudder at his response.

"But they'd rather get some shut-eye than deal with any after-hours shenanigans," he answers, chuckling at his own statement.

"So… Do they not care about what happens here?"

"Are you crazy? We've seen enough of that stuff already! It's common during these hours."

The stranger's words echoed in your ears, leaving you both stunned and relieved by the realization that your bold escapade wasn't as discreet as you

"Heh. I guess I did pick the right time---ow!"

Taeyeon suddenly hits you in between your playful comment with a playful yet embarrassed smirk on her face.

"You sonovabitch! You let people watch us? In public, of all places? I hate you!"

"Hey! Hey! It was your idea to have some fun in public," you protest, rubbing your arm where she hit you.

"But you made the reservation! You sneaky fuck… You probably knew about this!"

She continues to scold you, her words laced with a mixture of embarrassment and amusement. For such a soft punch, they sure are quite painful.

"No, I swear! I didn't know anyone would be here!"

"I swear, the next time you have your way with me, I will…"

"Hey. Don't blame me! You pulled me in on this!"

"Why you…"

"Before you lovers continue to be all playful and whatnot…" the janitor interrupts, "You might want to pack things up."

"Huh?" the two of you ask in unison.

He then points towards the sky as the dawning sun begins to peek over the horizon. You quickly check the time on your phone and realize that the time you reserved for your outdoor rendezvous is nearly up. With your exhausted bodies and flushed faces, you hurriedly gather your belongings, discarded clothes and all, trying your best to fix yourselves as fast and as composed as possible.

"What about the mess?" Taeyeon suddenly blurts out, her cheeks still flushed from the recent activities.

"What mess?" you ask, your focus shifting between the looming sunrise and Taeyeon's concerned expression.

"This mess!" She gestures towards the puddles of sweat and other bodily fluids that soak the bench and the concrete ground beneath it.

You exchange a panicked glance, realizing the evidence of your passionate encounter is scattered for all to see.

"What are we gonna do with this?" she exclaims, worry evident in her voice.

"Fuck… Uhh, shit! Gimme a sec…"

You quickly think of ways to resolve the situation.

"Hey! Don't worry about that," the janitor calls out, waving his hand dismissively.

"What? You're gonna clean all this?" you ask, a mix of relief and surprise in your voice.

"Uhh… Yeah! That's my job," he chuckles.

"Well… Thank you, sir!" you yell, waving your hand at him.

"Oh, thank you! Thank you so much!" Taeyeon cries out, her voice ringing with relief. She then pulls your arm, nudging you to leave the scene with her. "We have to go!"

You and Taeyeon then rush towards the exit, your hearts pounding with a mix of exhilaration and nervousness. From what was initially a harmless tennis practice session, things took an unexpectedly erotic turn, allowing you and your partner to unleash all your pent-up desires in a frisky and uninhibited display of passion. Fucking on a public tennis court was definitely not part of the plan, but it was an experience neither of you would soon forget.

"Ugh… Walking without underwear is the worst," you groan as you and Taeyeon hurriedly walk outside of the building, your exhausted dick swaying freely beneath your shorts.

"You think? I haven't even put anything underneath in a hurry!" she replies, frustration lacing her voice. Her breasts bounce under her clothes with each hurried step. "Hngh… I can feel some of your cum dripping down my thighs."

"It does?" you ask, shocked and curious, leaning in to inspect her arousing situation. "Lemme see…"

She then prepares to swing her arm to hit you. Her face furious yet blushing.

"Don't you even dare!"

"Alright, alright. My bad," you chuckle, raising your hands in surrender.

As the sight of the parking lot comes into view, the two of you sprint towards your car, not minding of anything else around. You quickly open the passenger door for Taeyeon, and she jumps in eagerly. You then jump into the driver's seat, heart pounding with nervousness and you start the engine and leave the place for good.

"Right," you breathe out as you adjust yourself in your seat.

"Let's go to my place," she tells you.

"Well, duh. Of course I'll drop you at your place, noona. Where else would I even…"

"No."

"Huh? What do you mean ‘no’?"

"I mean, you're all sweaty and whatnot, so…"

Twiddling with her hair, Taeyeon then looks at you with a coy expression on her face.

"If you want… You can take a shower at my place. I wouldn’t mind.”

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Author’s Notes:

And that's another SNSD member written down! I'm halfway there... Maybe. I really can't imagine her other than the "Noona You'd Like to Date" and with my renewed interest over the "Prince of Tennis" series, I thought I'd give this idea a shot. I don't know much about tennis tho... So I hope I did a decent job at least. 🙏

Also... Some of you may not know this, but a few hours from now is my Queen Taeyeon's birthday! Going 35 and still one of the hottest idols in the industry. God-fucking-damn. 🥵

I have more stories lined up (and waiting to be written by yours truly OMFG I hate myself) and I'm very eager to share them to everyone. The "Spotlight" series is still. Don't worry. I didn't forget about it and hopefully I don't. I just thought of making stories of other idols in between to break it up a bit.

Once again, thank you to @capslocked and @sparkynsfws for your help in polishing this story, as well as to @braaan for yet another fire poster. Thank you so much! 🤗

Thank you for reading! 🙇

[sansaorgana]

I don't quite understand if the requests are open, but I can't get it out of my head. Can you write something ​​about Gale Cleven/reader ovulating? (with smut please 🙏🏻🙏🏻)

I really love your writing!!!😭💗

hello, babes! 😊 I tried to write the first request of the Reader ovulating and them trying for a baby with Buck being some sort of a soft!dom and I hope he's soft!dom enough in this fic haha I always imagine him super sweet and vanilla personally tbh 🙈

I had to currently close the requests because I got so many so I'm working on them atm 🙏🏻

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

You had a busy day running errands all around town since early morning so you sighed with relief when the evening finally came and you could take a long, relaxing bath before putting on a nightgown and go to bed to read a magazine. Your husband was in his study room downstairs where he was working on some papers for his work but he would usually join you in bed an hour before midnight to read a book as well. You enjoyed those quiet evenings the most out of the whole day.

You sat comfortably with your back resting on the pillow and opened the magazine to look for interesting articles. On one of the pages you spotted a nice advert of a new cosmetic brand. You tilted your head and bit on your lower lip, deciding you would like to try it. So, you opened the drawer of your bedside table and took out your small calendar to write down the brand’s name.

It opened on today’s date and your heart skipped a beat at the sight of a little heart that you had drawn there some time ago. That little heart could mean only one thing – you were ovulating. And because of all your errands on that day, you had completely forgotten about it.

You were actively trying for a baby with Buck. You had wanted a baby before his departure to Europe, actually – you had wanted to have his child in case he wouldn't come back. You hadn’t succeeded back then but in the end it had been for the best. If you had gotten pregnant then, Buck would have missed all of your pregnancy and the first year of your child’s life. But now he was back and the war was over. It was the best time to have a baby and you were determined; tracking your cycle, marking the fertile days in your calendar and following your doctor’s advice about the diet to increase your chances.

You put the calendar and magazine down before jumping out of the bed and fixing your hair quickly in the mirror; taking the rollers out as fast as possible and brushing the waves. Then you put some perfume on and caressed the slight creases on the nightgown’s fabric as you put on a gentle smile and walked out of the bedroom.

You went downstairs and knocked slightly upon the door leading to your husband’s study room. However, you didn’t wait for his reply because you only knocked to announce your arrival so he wouldn’t be startled – you didn’t do that to actually wait for his permission to enter. You pushed the door open and saw Buck sitting by the desk as he sighed at some paperwork in front of him.

“Baby,” you called for him softly and he raised his tired eyes at you.

“What is it, love?” He asked, gently.

“How busy are you?” You stood behind him and put your hands upon his tense shoulders to give them a quick massage. He hummed to himself at the feeling of your soft fingers squeezing all the muscle knots.

“Pretty busy,” he answered and you pouted. “What is it, sugar?”

“I’ve just realised that today’s the best day to make a baby this month,” you whispered, a little shyly. Buck looked up at you with a soft smile and you felt your cheeks heating up.

“Really?” He asked and you nodded. “Oh, well, then that is more important. Come here,” he invited you to sit on his lap as he moved away from the desk to make some space.

You sat across his thighs and threw your arms around his neck to clasp your hands behind his head. Buck pulled you closer by your hips and leaned in to place a gentle kiss upon your lips. When you broke the kiss, you pressed your forehead to his and rubbed your noses together. You moved your hands to his cheeks as your fingertips caressed the thin scars scattered on his face.

“I want to have your baby,” you breathed out. “Please, I want to make you a daddy,” you pleaded.

“Don’t you worry, baby,” Buck kissed your lips again, “I’ll give my wife anything she wants,” he promised with a playful smile. “Come, sweetheart, let me put a baby in you,” he lifted you up as you squealed with a giggle.

Buck moved all the papers to the side in one swift move of his hand before placing you gently on the top of his desk.

“You want to make our baby here?” Your eyes widened at him and he froze with his hands on his belt as he raised an eyebrow at you.

“What do you mean?”

“Take me upstairs, baby,” you whined and put your foot on his chest playfully as he grabbed you by your ankle.

“You’re being a brat, Mrs. Cleven,” he warned and you chuckled. “You’re lucky that I’m so in love with you, you know that?”

“Sure, I do, Major,” you saluted and he rolled his eyes before lifting you up bridal style. You threw your arms around him and hid your face in the crook of his neck.

Buck opened the door of his study room with his shoe before taking you upstairs, taking each step very carefully because he didn’t want to drop you or fall down with you on top of him. You took that time to suck on the soft flesh below his ear.

When you finally reached the bedroom, Buck laid you down on the bed gently and admired you for a while.

“You’re glowing, baby,” he admitted.

“Yes, I am,” you nodded, “because it’s time for you to put a baby in me,” you reminded him. “So, what are you waiting for?” You panted and reached out for him as he shook his head and chuckled softly.

“I should teach you some patience,” he took his shirt off and put it neatly on the chair by the vanity table. A Major indeed – he would never just throw it on the floor.

“Perhaps. But we know you won’t because you love to spoil me,” you giggled as Buck took his belt off and put it on top of his shirt. “God, you’re taking so long,” you whined. The idea of him putting a baby in you was exciting enough but seeing him undress was making it worse.

“Alright, come here, little mama,” he finally joined you in bed as he positioned himself above you, wearing nothing but his underwear. “So impatient for your husband to take care of you?” He teased and caressed your face to get your hair out of the way.

“Just want my man to put a baby in me,” you crossed your legs behind his back as your nightgown pulled up and revealed your panties.

“Oh, I’m gonna. I’m gonna make love to you all night long,” he promised and put his big, warm hand on your womb. It made you giggle as you already imagined yourself swollen with his baby. He’d be the best father in the world just like he was the best husband and you wanted nothing more than to give him a child. It would make your family complete.

Buck joined your lips together in a sweet and gentle yet passionate kiss as he allowed his fingertips to run freely all around your body, making you shiver as goosebumps appeared on your skin. You pressed your hands to his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat under your palms. You loved him so much that it was making you dizzy to have him so close and all yours – after all those long months of him being so far away from you… you had been starting to forget that your husband was a real person made out of flesh and with a heart pumping his blood, with beautiful blue eyes and golden hair, those pretty long eyelashes and an adorable smile that reminded you of a little boy. You hoped your child would have the same.

But now he was back, he was here. You hadn’t made him up, he wasn’t a make-believe lover. He was real and he was yours and yours only.

You arched your back to give him better access to your breasts as he sucked on them gently and hummed to himself as he was holding you by your ribs.

“They’re gonna swell soon, little mama,” he murmured while he kissed you all around one of your nipples and then he moved to another. “Gonna be full of sweet milk for my baby.”

“Y-yes, daddy,” you tangled one of your hands in his golden hair to pull on it gently and caress it.

Buck looked up at you with his beautiful eyes as one golden hair strand fell down on his forehead and you gasped at how pretty he looked. It made him blush a little but also smirk. His hands moved down and slid your panties off of you easily. He tossed them aside on the bed and opened your legs further as you revealed to him your glistening womanhood. You would always get so much wetter than usual during your fertile days. And so much more needy for your husband.

You reached your hands out to the outline of his hard cock, desperately wanting him inside of you already. You pulled his underwear down clumsily before he shushed you softly and pushed your hands away. He took it off on his own as it joined your panties on the side of the bed.

Gently, he grabbed you by your thighs and moved you closer to him as easily as if you were light as a feather. He was strong and you loved it – especially the way he was able to make you feel so small and vulnerable under him. Your nightgown pushed nearly all the way up while you were being pulled down to line your entrance up with his cock, revealing your abdomen to him. You moved the sheer fabric of the nightgown out of your face and watched him carefully pressing the tip of his cock to your swollen and wet clit.

A shiver went down your body at the feeling as you moaned. Your fingernails digged into his bicep as the other hand tugged on the sheets.

Buck would always take his time with preparing you for his fat cock. He never wanted to cause you any pain or discomfort. He would rub circles on your clit with his tip as your muscles relaxed and only then he would slowly start to push the length inside, inch by inch, watching carefully your every facial expression and every sigh, every moan, every eye-roll. He savoured them but he also stopped all his movement whenever he’d notice you were in any amount of pain.

Breathing heavily, he lowered himself down as he finally pushed all of his length inside and gave you a while to adjust to his size. Your thighs were surrounding his waist, pulling him even closer as if it was possible. His face loomed over yours and he put his hands on both sides of your head.

“Open your eyes, baby, keep looking at me when I make you a mama,” he whispered and you followed as your eyelids fluttered open. You gasped at the sight of his face so close, his beautiful eyes looking deep into yours as he began to thrust his hips, rutting as deep into you as he could, determined to put a baby inside of you.

You moaned and moved your hands to his muscular shoulders, digging your nails deep into his flesh at the overwhelming sensation of his fat cock stretching you out and making you feel full. You looked down for a brief moment and got dizzy at the sight of your belly bulge and his cock’s outline so deep inside of your pussy. With each thrust he was hitting a spot that was making your toes curl and tears of pleasure pricking your eyes.

“Eyes up, baby,” he crooned and you looked at his face again. “Good girl,” he praised and your walls squeezed around his cock. “My good girl,” he added, knowing perfectly well how his words were making you feel. “I’m gonna fill you up with my baby, you’re gonna be all swollen and sweet for me, I’m gonna take care of you,” he whispered his promises but with time his words were getting less coherent and audible as they were turning into grunts of pleasure.

Buck pressed his forehead to yours as his golden hair strands stuck to his sweaty forehead and you felt his body tensing while his hips’ movement became chaotic. He was close and you cupped his face; his cheeks pink and his full, soft lips slightly parted. He was a sight.

“That’s right, baby, just like that,” you encouraged him, “give me that, all of that, baby,” you pleaded as his spasmodic thrusts were bringing you closer to your own peak, too. “Make me a mama and I’m gonna grow your baby, I’m gonna make you a daddy,” you promised.

Buck moved one of his hands down and put it on your womb, pressing on it gently as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, you could no longer force yourself to keep them open at the overwhelming feeling and a knot in your lower abdomen finally relaxing as you reached your high with a loud moan of your husband’s name. He spilled himself deep inside of you with a groan into your ear but he didn’t move an inch once your highs were gone. Still inside of you, he grabbed your thighs and moved them up to press them to your chest before joining your lips together in a sloppy kiss.

After a while you felt him softening and that was when he finally slowly pulled out but he kept your bent legs pressed to your chest in a steady grip as he glanced at the clock on his bedside table. He would usually keep you like this for at least five minutes for his seed to take.

“You’re so beautiful, baby,” he cooed to you. “Gonna be even more beautiful carrying my baby, you know that?”

“Why would I want it so bad if I didn’t?” You chuckled and he shook his head with a soft laughter. He let go of your thighs and you sat up to cling to him and pepper his blushing and sweaty face with soft kisses as your hands moved across his chest and arms to caress them. Buck put his hands on your hips and pulled you closer to kiss you all over your cheeks as well. Both of your naked and exhausted, sweaty bodies were tangled with each other as you were sitting on your bed and sharing dozens of sweet little kisses.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you whispered.

“For what, sugar?” Buck moved away slightly as he cupped your cheek with his hand and raised his eyebrow at you. “We don’t know yet if we’ve made our little baby,” he smiled softly.

“No, I know. But thank you for coming home to me,” you caressed his ruffled hair to move it away from his forehead. “Thank you for being such a good husband to me.”

“You make loving you so easy, sweetheart,” he assured you. “You were right. I love spoiling you because you deserve the world.”

“I don’t want it,” you shook your head as your eyes widened. “I only want you, Major Cleven. You are my whole world.”

Visibly moved by your words, Buck laid you down carefully as if you were made of glass. He lowered himself as well, pressing a kiss to your womb and laying his head on top of it while his arms hugged your waist.You played with his hair and smiled softly at your husband.

“I hope you hear me if you’re there, little one,” he whispered into your abdomen. “You are so loved already,” Buck assured. “And so lucky to spend the next nine months under your sweet mama’s heart,” he added.

“And to have a daddy like Major Cleven,” you played along as you caressed Buck’s cheek. “I chose you the best daddy you could ask for, little bean.”

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST