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dksfml · 10 days ago

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off my face - yjw

pairing: jungwon x reader genre: soulmate au, mega FLUFF word count: 6.6k summary: in a world where each person has a soulmate mark indicating where they will be touched by their soulmate for the first time, there’s jungwon—the soccer team captain you’d like to be ruined by forever—who has no soulmate mark at all. what does that make you, someone whose mark has changed color because of him? author's note: finally!! here's your most awaited blond jungwon fic that i skipped sleep for<3333 inspired by this amazing prompt my friend sent me.

One touch and you got me stoned. Higher than I've ever known. You call the shots and I follow. Sunrise, but the night still young. No words, but we speak in tongues. If you let me, I might say too much.

You sat near the front row, posture perfect, eyes narrowed as Professor Min’s lecture on ancient mythology took a surprising turn. Today’s topic wasn’t just history—it was soulmate lore, the mysterious marks everyone was born with, and the myths that surrounded them. The professor’s calm, seasoned voice filled the room, but the air buzzed with barely contained excitement. Everyone was alert, even the usual back-row whisperers, captivated by the promise of something rare: a sanctioned discussion about their most private marks.

“These soulmate marks,” Professor Min began, his gaze sweeping the room with a faint smile, “are said to be the final traces of a bond forged in a past life. Legends tell us that in each lifetime, we may be separated from our soulmates, lost to distance or circumstance. But the marks,” he gestured to his own faintly darkened palm, “are said to be the soul’s way of leaving a trail—a reminder.”

A murmur rippled through the room. Everyone had a mark, a small patch of inky darkness, as distinct as fingerprints, mapped out on their bodies. Some had them on their palms or fingertips, waiting for the day a handshake or brush of fingers would light up that mark with color. Others had them in more curious places, whispering of fated touches in the most unlikely moments.

"The legend says," Professor Min continued, "that these marks were painted by one’s soulmate in a past life, a vow made in hopes to meet again, to find each other across time."

You clenched your pen a little tighter, the faint tickle of wonder battling the urge to keep your expression blank and unfeeling. You’d always kept your interest in soulmate marks private. They seemed so full of mystery, and the idea of your soulmate waiting for you somewhere was oddly… reassuring. You glanced down, conscious of the mark behind your knee, hidden like a strange secret that even you could barely understand. What kind of first touch would even reach there? The thought was both amusing and baffling, and you stifled a wry smile.

Around you, other students leaned in to chat, loud enough that their conversations blended into a steady hum. Your classmate Arin nudged her friend, laughing as she displayed the faint mark on her palm. “I’ve been dying to know who’ll shake my hand one day,” she whispered excitedly, her eyes glimmering with hope.

But your gaze drifted just beyond Arin, landing instead on a familiar figure lounging in the middle row with his legs stretched out, looking every bit like he was born to disrupt things without lifting a finger. Jungwon. Handsome in a way that seemed almost unfair, with striking, dark eyes framed by lashes that cast subtle shadows on his cheeks, and hair the color of midnight that fell in soft, tousled waves. He had this effortless, magnetic presence that drew people toward him, like he knew he didn’t need to try.

As captain of the soccer team and one of the most well-known faces on campus, Jungwon somehow managed to look both sharp and relaxed, as if the attention his looks or reputation brought him meant nothing. You’d been crushing on him since last year, an avid fan always present at his games, cheering him on like a lovesick fool. Whenever he scored a goal, you felt your heart leap, and you couldn’t help but unleash your inner fangirl, your excitement spilling over as you screamed his name. Right now, he seemed half-listening to his friends, a hint of a lazy grin tugging at the corners of his mouth as he leaned back, eyes drifting up to the ceiling before refocusing on his friends. It was that easygoing confidence that made him impossible not to notice—and, for you, impossible not to think about.

It was a boy from his friend group, Jay, who interrupted the class chatter by slapping a hand down on the table and teasing, “Come on, Won. You don’t have a soulmate mark, my foot. No one gets off that easy.” The comment was light-hearted but loaded, and more than a few students turned to look.

To your surprise, Jungwon didn’t react with one of his usual witty comebacks or careless shrugs. Instead, he just rubbed the back of his neck, a hint of something almost vulnerable flashing across his face. “No, really,” he insisted, almost apologetically. “I don’t have one. I checked a million times as a kid.”

Your pen paused mid-note, and a slight, irrational disappointment prickled in your chest. It was hard to believe, especially about someone like Jungwon, whose very presence seemed destined to leave a mark on others. Soulmate marks might be rare, but someone like him not having one? It felt impossible, like a missing piece that no one noticed until it was too late.

For a fleeting moment, you wondered if maybe he just hadn’t found it yet. After all, some people only discovered their mark when it finally turned to color. Sometimes it wasn’t a visible spot on the skin but something far subtler—a shadow in the hue of their lips that would only brighten after a first kiss, or a darkness lingering in an eye, invisible until the gentle touch of someone wiping away their tears brought it to life. The thought sent a strange warmth to your cheeks as you glanced back toward him, wondering if Jungwon’s missing mark was just waiting for the right person to unlock it.

Still, he looked surprisingly honest, a faint hint of sadness clouding his otherwise bright gaze. For someone so magnetic, it was as if he was caught drifting in space, without any tether connecting him to anyone at all.

“Alright, alright,” Jay relented, raising his hands in surrender but laughing all the same. “Guess someone’s too cool to be fated to anyone, huh?”

The professor’s voice cut back in, and you forced yourself to refocus, though your mind lingered on Jungwon’s quiet expression and the flicker of something in his eyes, something both resigned and deeply private. Could he really be alone in a world where everyone else was bound to someone?

“Imagine having your mark on your knuckles,” Arin whispered beside you with a grin, oblivious to the moment that had just passed. “You’d probably knock your soulmate out before you even realized they were ‘the one’!”

Another round of laughter scattered through the room, like a shared inside joke. The air felt charged, as if everyone were suddenly curious about each other’s marks, glancing around with new eyes. You let out a small sigh, tapping your pen against your notebook with a faint smile. As much as you tried to keep up the class president, model-student act, the idea of soulmates fascinated you in a way you’d never quite admit.

When the bell finally rang, the room filled with that familiar end-of-class chaos. You started packing up, keeping your head down—until you noticed Jungwon slinging his bag over his shoulder, looking effortlessly put-together, as usual. He laughed at something his friend said, his expression relaxed, his dark eyes flickering with amusement. But you couldn’t help catching the faintest flicker of something else in his gaze as he glanced at his friends—like a momentary, unguarded look that felt… wistful?

Okay, maybe that was just you being overly imaginative.

You let out a little huff as you slung your own bag over your shoulder, shaking off the strange pity you’d felt moments before. So what if Jungwon didn’t have a mark? You barely even knew him. Well, you kind of knew him, but from a distance—and with way more daydreams than you’d like to admit. Still, it was silly to wonder about him, right? With your head full of these thoughts, you walked out into the hallway, lost in a world where maybe, just maybe, he was wondering about you, too.

And as you brushed past a group of friends, laughing and shoving each other, your hand slipped over the back of your knee, where your own mark was hidden—quiet, waiting, and as mysterious as ever.

The sky was an endless blue, stretching wide over the school field as your class spilled out onto the grass for PE. With the teacher conveniently on vacation, today’s instructions were simple: enjoy the free time. Most of your classmates took to the field, breaking off into little clusters for a lazy game of soccer, light stretches, or simple gossip sessions by the bleachers.

As class president, you took it upon yourself to ensure no one went too far or caused trouble. Your duty, as you saw it, was to survey your classmates from a slight distance, keeping an eye out with the calm, serious gaze you’d carefully perfected. Yet even from the sidelines, your eyes found themselves drifting toward a familiar figure on the field, drawn to him like magnets.

Jungwon was at the center of the field with his friends, casual and relaxed, but his every move carried an elegance that made your pulse skip. He was laughing at something his friend said, his eyes crinkling as he kicked the soccer ball back and forth, the glint of a confident smirk tugging at his lips. His ease on the field was mesmerizing, a mixture of strength and grace that made it hard to look away.

You reminded yourself to focus, scanning the field to check on the other groups. But before you could pull your attention back entirely, a voice called out, and you saw Jungwon pivot to chase the soccer ball—only for it to ricochet off his foot, headed directly toward you with alarming speed.

In the split second it took you to react, you felt a sharp thud against the back of your knees. The impact sent you stumbling forward, knees buckling beneath you as you tumbled to the ground. Pain flared up where the ball had struck, but it was drowned out by the shock of it all.

“Oh no—are you okay?” Jungwon’s voice was breathless with concern, his steps hurried as he reached you. You barely had a chance to process his arrival before he knelt beside you, face flushed and clearly panicked. His hand hovered awkwardly as if afraid to touch you, his usual calm replaced with something far more vulnerable.

“I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to— Are you hurt?” he stammered, his voice unusually soft. He reached out gently, his hands carefully brushing against your arm as he tried to help you up. “Can you stand?”

Your mind struggled to catch up to the moment, and it took everything you had to keep your stoic demeanor intact. Jungwon was close, closer than he’d ever been, and the intensity of his worried gaze was unexpectedly disarming. Even as pain pulsed through your knee, you couldn’t help but stare, captivated by how intensely he focused on you, as if everything else in the world had fallen away.

“I’m fine, really,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. But as soon as you tried to stand, pain shot up your leg.

Jungwon’s expression shifted to one of determination, and before you could protest, he slid one arm under your knees and lifted you up, his other arm around your shoulders. The world tilted as he held you in a firm, steady grip, his face barely inches from yours. “We’re getting you to the nurse. No arguments.”

You blinked, momentarily stunned by his closeness, by the warmth radiating from him. “Oh—okay.” The words left your mouth almost on instinct, your brain still catching up with the fact that Jungwon was carrying you, his focus set entirely on you. His hands brushed your arm as he adjusted his grip, and you felt a strange warmth bloom under your skin, something unfamiliar and electric.

The walk to the nurse’s office was quiet, but you couldn’t ignore the way his gaze flickered to you, the gentleness in his expression as he murmured, “Sorry again. I’d never forgive myself if I hurt the class president.”

Your lips parted, searching for something to say, but the way he looked at you—soft, maybe even a bit shy—left you wordless. All you could do was nod, your heart pounding louder with each step as you held onto the feeling of his arms around you, wondering if he could hear it too.

It wasn’t until you glanced down that you noticed it—a faint shift of color beneath your knee where the ball had struck. The mark, once hidden and dark, now radiated a subtle but unmistakable bright yellow hue, soft and warm against your skin.

You froze, eyes wide, as the realization settled in. Jungwon was still mumbling apologies, unaware of the discovery you’d just made. Only he could have caused the mark to change; he was the only one who had touched that spot. The idea left you breathless, your mind scrambling to make sense of it all.

In the clinic, the nurse examined your knee with a quick, professional assessment. “You’ll be fine,” she declared, sending you off with an ice pack and a faint smile. But your thoughts were still racing, tangled up in the startling realization that Jungwon might actually be your soulmate.

The whole walk back to class, you replayed the moment in your mind, trying to make sense of it. Maybe it was a coincidence. Perhaps someone had brushed the back of your knee at some other time, and you simply hadn’t noticed. But deep down, you knew the truth—the mark had only changed when Jungwon touched you.

And when you returned to class, he was there, hovering near the door with a worried frown. He looked up as you approached, eyes bright with relief.

“Are you okay?” he asked, a slight smile breaking through the concern etched into his features. “I was worried about you.”

Your heart skipped as you nodded, doing your best to keep your voice steady. “I’m fine. Just… a bit shaken up, that’s all.” You felt the weight of the new secret pressing down on you, but you forced yourself to smile.

Jungwon’s shoulders relaxed, and he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck in that effortlessly charming way of his. “I’m glad. I’ll be more careful with my aim next time.”

You smiled back, feeling the weight of the mark’s new color, of the quiet truth only you knew. As Jungwon returned to his seat, your gaze drifted to the back of your knee, where the mark lay hidden under the fabric of your clothes, now touched by color—by him.

In the days following the incident on the field, the world seemed to shift around you, humming with an energy you couldn’t quite shake. The back of your knee, where Jungwon’s touch had changed your soulmate mark to a soft, distinct yellow color, was a constant reminder of the possibility that your crush—Jungwon, the ever-handsome and kind soccer captain—might be something even more significant than you’d ever dared to imagine.

“How’s your knee?” he asked, his voice warm and tinged with that familiar gentleness that made your heart stutter.

“Oh, it’s fine, really!” You waved it off, attempting to tuck your leg further under your desk, hoping he wouldn’t notice the faint new color to the mark that still lingered behind your knee.

Jungwon didn’t seem to buy it. “Are you sure?” he asked, his brows furrowing as he leaned down, intent on seeing for himself. Before he could get a closer look, you tugged your skirt down a little farther, hiding the mark as best as you could.

“I’m sure, really,” you insisted, trying to keep your tone casual. “It’s just a little sore, nothing to worry about.”

For a moment, he hesitated, his gaze lingering on you, unreadable. Then he nodded, standing up with a quiet, sheepish smile. “Alright. I’ll trust you, but only if you promise to let me know if it starts hurting again.”

You managed a nod, clutching your books a little tighter to keep your hands steady. “I promise,” you said, hoping he didn’t notice the flicker of nerves in your eyes.

Your third shared class of the week was English, and just as the teacher assigned the day’s group work, the class began to shift into pairs. Coincidentally (or so you told yourself), the seating arrangement placed Jungwon near you that day.

“Hey,” he said, his voice soft as he approached. He offered you one of his signature, heart-stopping smiles. “Mind if we pair up? I mean…if you’re okay with it.”

With an effort to keep your expression neutral, you nodded. “Sure,” you replied, your voice steady even though your heart was anything but.

Settling at a table near the window, you both pulled out your notebooks. The task was straightforward—analyzing a poem about soulmates. You caught a breath at the irony, and Jungwon, seemingly unfazed, began reading the passage aloud. His voice, low and calm, wove through the words as you listened, though your mind kept wandering to his every movement, the way his eyes flickered thoughtfully over the page, how his fingers held the pencil lightly but with intention.

“What do you think?” he asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You cleared your throat, willing your focus back to the assignment. “I think…well, it’s romantic. But it’s also kind of tragic, right? There’s always this sense of waiting—like, what if they don’t meet?”

Jungwon’s gaze flickered up, lingering on your face a little longer than necessary. “Yeah, that’s true,” he agreed, his voice thoughtful. “The idea that you’re waiting your whole life for just one person…it’s a lot of pressure.”

He paused, eyes settling on you, as if searching for something beneath the calm exterior you held so tightly. “Do you… believe in it? Soulmates, I mean?”

Caught off guard, you looked down, your fingers tracing invisible patterns on the edge of your notebook. You thought of your parents, of their own lovely story about finding each other through their marks, and how you’d grown up with those tales of destiny. And now, here you were, sitting with the very boy who might be your own fated match.

“I think,” you began slowly, “that I want to believe in it. My parents…they have one of those classic stories. It’s hard not to believe in soulmates when you’ve heard stories like that all your life.”

He nodded, listening intently. “I get that. I guess…sometimes I wonder what it would be like. But it’s hard to picture when you don’t…you know, have any marks yourself.”

The quiet sadness in his tone took you by surprise. You’d never considered what it might be like to go through life without a soulmate mark, to feel like something intrinsic was missing, a feeling that destiny had passed you by. Suddenly, your thoughts flickered back to the legends the elders told—how markless people were said to carry the weight of unrequited love from a past life, doomed to wander without a soulmate to mark them in this one. The idea hung heavy in the air, mingling with your sympathy for him.

“Maybe it doesn’t matter, then,” you murmured, almost to yourself. “Maybe people without marks find their person too, in other ways.” You couldn’t help but think that perhaps Jungwon was one of those souls, burdened by a love that never came to fruition.

The silence that followed was heavy but not uncomfortable. Jungwon seemed lost in thought, his gaze drifting out the window as he considered your words. And just then, a strange sense of comfort washed over you, knowing that even if he was unaware of it, you shared a connection that went beyond what either of you could see.

“Maybe,” he said finally, and then he flashed you a lopsided grin. “Well, even if soulmates are real, maybe it’s a good thing I’m mark-free. I don’t think I’d want someone to find out I was their soulmate because I hit them with a soccer ball.”

His laughter rang out, and you couldn’t help but join him, but beneath the mirth, your heart clenched. You wanted to tell him everything—to reveal the secret that could bridge the chasm between you. But as the words formed on your lips, fear gripped you. What if you were wrong? What if he truly didn’t have a soulmate mark, and this moment of connection was just a fleeting illusion?

So you swallowed hard, plastering a smile on your face that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Well, let’s just keep that between us, then,” you replied, hoping to mask the anxiety swirling inside you.

Inside, the truth weighed heavy, a secret that felt more like a burden than a bond. Keeping it hidden seemed safer, easier—even if it left you feeling like a ghost, drifting alongside him but never truly reaching out. The thought of him being one of those markless souls—the ones who carried the pain of a love never realized—made you ache. You didn’t want him to feel that emptiness, and yet, here you were, hiding a truth that might shatter the fragile connection you shared.

Perhaps it was better this way. Better to hold onto your heartache in silence than risk shattering the bond you had built, no matter how tenuous it felt. As you returned to the assignment, the bittersweet taste of longing lingered on your tongue, mixing with the thrill of possibility, leaving you torn between the hope of what could be and the fear of what might never come to pass.

Finally, during your biology class, your teacher assigned a laboratory cleaning rotation. By the luck of the draw—or maybe a twist of fate—you found yourself paired with Jungwon. It was supposed to be a simple task, but as the two of you gathered supplies and began tidying up the classroom after hours, you felt the weight of every quiet moment.

Jungwon appeared beside you as you straightened a stack of textbooks, arms full of markers and erasers. His casual, laid-back attitude only heightened the quiet thrill that being near him sparked in you. As he handed you an eraser, your fingers brushed slightly, and you pulled back quickly, heart racing.

"Are you always this… serious?" Jungwon teased, his lips curving into a half-smile. "I mean, you don’t have to look like we’re cleaning the whole school."

You rolled your eyes, fighting back a smile. “It’s just how I work. I take tasks seriously.”

He nodded, still smiling. “You’re impressive, you know. It’s like…you’re always so composed, like nothing rattles you.”

Caught off guard by his observation, you froze momentarily, not sure how to respond. Behind your serious exterior, you were anything but composed—especially around him. Before you could answer, he turned away to tidy the bookshelves, leaving you wondering if he’d picked up on the effect he had on you.

After a while, Jungwon returned to the task at hand, dusting off a few of the windowsills. It was quiet for a few minutes, the sounds of your combined effort filling the room. You both worked in sync, a silent rhythm that had developed without either of you realizing it. And then, with an abruptness that caught you off guard, he spoke again.

“Hey,” he said, hesitating. “I know this might be a weird question, but… where’s your soulmate mark?”

The question hung in the air between you, heavy with implications you weren’t ready to unravel. Your heart thudded as you carefully set down the books you’d been holding, gathering your thoughts.

You felt a flush creep up your cheeks. "Um, it's… it's on my knee," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The intimacy of the moment made you shy, and you instinctively shifted your weight, the hem of your skirt falling to cover your knee even more.

Jungwon raised an eyebrow, curiosity glimmering in his eyes. “Oh? Is it… already in color?”

You hesitated for a brief moment, weighing your words. “Uh, yeah,” you replied, biting your lip. “It changed a while ago. But it’s not a big deal.” You left out the part about him possibly being your soulmate, feeling the weight of that truth settle heavily in the air between you.

His expression shifted slightly, disappointment flashing across his features before he masked it with a casual smile. “That’s cool,” he said, his voice a bit quieter now. “I guess… it must be nice to have that certainty.”

“Yeah,” you said, trying to keep the mood light despite the sudden heaviness in your chest. “I mean, it’s comforting, I suppose.”

But beneath your words, a sense of longing stirred. You noticed how his gaze faltered for a moment, and it struck you then how much he had hoped for something different. He had seemed eager, maybe even hopeful, and the realization stung a little.

Jungwon cleared his throat, breaking the silence that had settled over you both. “So, um… did you see the last soccer game?” he asked, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction. “I think we really need to work on our defense.”

His attempt at lightheartedness felt slightly forced, and you could see a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. Still, it was nice to see him trying to shake off the heaviness from moments before.

“Yeah, I caught a bit of it,” you replied, grateful for the shift in focus. “You guys played well, though a couple of those goals were pretty close calls.”

He chuckled, the tension easing just a little. “Yeah, I think I almost gave our coach a heart attack with that last-minute save,” he said, grinning. It was an infectious smile, and you found yourself smiling back despite the weight still resting in the back of your mind.

The annual school festival arrived faster than expected, and the campus buzzed with activity and excitement. Classrooms were transformed into themed booths, hallways were draped with handmade decorations, and students wore colorful festival shirts and badges, their faces bright with paint and laughter. You found yourself stationed at the face-painting booth, brush in hand, ready to tackle the endless line of eager students.

You’d always enjoyed events like these—participating in the festival offered you a rare chance to relax and feel connected to your classmates outside of the usual seriousness you maintained as class president. Here, you were just another student, painting stars, hearts, and stripes on familiar faces.

“Hey, what’s up? Need a painter?” your friend Taeyoung called out to the next group approaching your booth. You followed his gaze and felt your heart skip when you recognized Jungwon and his friends heading your way, laughing and jostling each other. He wore a loose festival shirt with sleeves rolled up, a casual look that somehow made him even more handsome. You quickly glanced down, suddenly hyper-aware of your paintbrushes and the paper towels you clutched a little too tightly.

The booth was busy, and with most of your fellow painters occupied, it didn’t take long for Taeyoung to pair Jungwon with you. “Hey, Y/N, looks like you’ve got a VIP customer! Captain Jungwon wants to be a canvas today,” he said, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he nudged Jungwon playfully.

Jungwon chuckled, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—an eagerness mixed with a hint of shyness. “Yeah, I guess I’m in your hands now,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “No pressure, right?”

You swallowed hard, trying to maintain your composure as your heart raced. “Uh, right! No pressure at all,” you replied, your voice a little too bright. “What do you have in mind?”

You forced yourself to meet Jungwon’s eyes, fighting back the nervous excitement bubbling in your chest. “So… what would you like?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Jungwon’s usual confident smile softened a little, and he seemed slightly hesitant, rubbing the back of his neck, a gesture that made your stomach flutter. “Maybe a couple of stars on my cheeks? And… maybe a small cat on my forehead?”

You stifled a laugh at his request, realizing that behind his composed demeanor, he had a playful side you hadn’t seen before. “A star and a cat. Got it,” you whispered, dipping your brush into white paint. You reached out carefully to steady his face, tilting it slightly toward the light. Your fingers lightly touched his cheek, and you couldn’t ignore the spark that jolted through you at the contact.

Jungwon closed his eyes briefly, letting out a small breath. You tried to ignore the slight flush you felt creeping up your neck, focusing on drawing a perfect star on his left cheek. You painted in silence, but every so often, he’d open his eyes and glance at you, making your heart race each time.

With one cheek finished, you moved to the other side. He leaned in closer, giving you the perfect angle. The space between you seemed to shrink with every second, the sounds of the bustling festival fading into a distant hum. You were hyper-aware of everything—the faint scent of his cologne, the warmth radiating from him, and how your fingers gently brushed his skin. When you finished with the stars, you pulled back slightly to look at your work, meeting his gaze as you did.

“They look good,” he murmured, his voice softer than usual.

You swallowed, breaking eye contact to reach for a new brush and dip it in black paint. “Now for the cat,” you said, trying to stay calm. “Hold still.”

You carefully moved to part his hair at the center of his forehead. As your fingers brushed through his bangs, you froze, your eyes widening as you saw something strange—a small patch of his dark hair was shifting, lightening to a soft honey-blonde under your touch.

“Um… Jungwon,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as you stared at the transformed lock of hair falling against his forehead. “Your hair…”

“What about it?” He turned to you with a hint of confusion, glancing up as if trying to catch a glimpse of the change. “Did I mess it up?”

You shook your head, the words tangling in your throat as disbelief washed over you. “It’s… it’s changing color.”

He blinked, clearly caught off guard, then brushed his fingers through the area you’d touched. His movements stilled, the warmth in his expression fading, replaced by something deeper—something unreadable. The air thickened around you, a heavy silence filled with unspoken questions.

“Are you sure?” he asked quietly, his gaze searching yours as if trying to decode the truth hidden beneath your surprise.

You nodded slowly, your heart racing. “Yeah, I… I thought it was just the paint at first, but… it’s definitely not.”

The realization hung in the air, electric and palpable, igniting a spark of tension that sent shivers down your spine. Jungwon’s fingers gently traced the newly lightened strands of hair, his expression a mix of wonder and trepidation. You could feel your pulse quicken, an exhilarating rush flooding through you as you grasped the meaning behind this strange phenomenon.

Time seemed to stretch in that moment, each heartbeat echoing like a drum in your chest. Here he was, the boy you’d admired from afar, unexpectedly transformed before your eyes. Jungwon—the one who had unwittingly painted your world in vibrant colors, now literally changing right in front of you.

Suddenly, self-consciousness washed over you like a cold wave. You averted your gaze, stepping back instinctively. “I—I should go finish with the others. They’re probably waiting for me…” Your voice wavered, betraying the rush of emotions threatening to spill over.

Before you could dwell on it, a paint container wobbled on the edge of the table, knocking into your elbow. In your panic, you stumbled, sending brushes and colors sprawling over yourself. “Oh no!” you yelped, scrambling to clean up the mess.

“Y/N, wait!” Jungwon exclaimed, his eyes widening in surprise. He stepped closer, his hand closing around yours, halting your frantic movements. “Stop. Just breathe.”

His grip was steadying, grounding you amidst the chaos of your racing thoughts. “Let’s find somewhere quiet, okay? You need to clean up.” His voice held a calmness that contrasted sharply with the storm inside you.

You felt a rush of warmth at his concern, but your mind spun with confusion. “But… the booth—”

“Trust me,” he said, his gaze unwavering, a silent promise passing between you. “Just for a moment. Let’s talk.”

With a nod, you allowed him to guide you away from the festival’s noise, your heart racing not just from the moment, but from the undeniable connection building between you. The thrill of discovery was tempered by the anxiety of what it all meant, and yet, in Jungwon’s presence, you felt something shift—something new and exciting, just waiting to be explored.

He led you through a quieter section of the campus, where the walls were lined with colorful murals painted by students, the air filled with the faint scent of paint and creativity. The laughter and chatter from the festival faded into the background, replaced by the gentle rustle of leaves overhead and the distant sound of music drifting from the booths.

As you turned a corner, Jungwon paused, the air around you suddenly thick with anticipation. He glanced around, ensuring you were alone, then leaned against the cool brick wall, his posture relaxed yet focused. His gaze locked onto yours, intensity radiating from him. “My hair… it’s slowly turning blond. Isn’t this what soulmate marks are supposed to be like?”

His words hung in the air, electrifying the space between you. You felt the weight of the moment press down, your heart racing like a wild drum in your chest. “Right… your soulmate mark,” you stammered, the tremor in your voice betraying the chaos inside. “I didn’t want to say anything because I thought it might just be a coincidence, but now… it's all starting to make sense.”

Jungwon stepped closer, the seriousness in his expression deepening. “You mean you knew?” His voice was low, the edge of urgency evident. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

The air crackled with tension, and you felt your pulse quicken. “I didn’t know it was you! I thought—” you cut yourself off, frustration bubbling within you. “I didn’t want to ruin our friendship or make things awkward. You’ve been my crush longer than you’ve been a friend. Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep things from being awkward with you, especially when my mark changed?”

Jungwon’s expression shifted, vulnerability breaking through his confidence. “Your mark... is it.… when did it change? Am I—was it before… or after we met?” His voice was tight, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air.

You took a deep breath, feeling the memories rush back. “The day you carried me to the nurse’s office, you idiot.”

He blinked, taken aback by your response. “Wait… that day? But I thought...”

His expression softened slightly, the intensity in his eyes shifting as he took a step closer. You held your breath as he knelt down, his fingers hovering over your soulmate mark. The moment felt electric, a mix of vulnerability and anticipation coursing through you.

“Can I…?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, giving him permission to touch it. As his fingers brushed against your skin, a shiver ran down your spine. Jungwon chuckled softly, the sound breaking some of the tension between you. “Can you believe this? It feels just like yesterday when I accidentally hit my crush with a soccer ball at her knees,” he said, shaking his head with a bemused smile. “The same crush I’ve wanted to approach since 10th grade but was always too afraid to mess up, especially with how she glares at boys.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the image of a younger Jungwon fumbling with his words as he tried to impress you suddenly vivid in your mind. “I didn’t mean to scare you off,” you admitted, your heart swelling with warmth. “I thought you were just… confident, you know?”

He shrugged, a hint of shyness creeping back into his demeanor. “I try to be. But it’s hard when you’re crushing on someone who’s out of your league.”

“Out of my league?” you repeated, incredulous. “Jungwon, you’re the captain of the soccer team! Everyone looks up to you.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m not nervous around you,” he replied, his gaze locking onto yours, sincerity pouring from his words. “It’s different with you. You make me want to be better.”

The air between you thickened with unspoken emotions, each heartbeat echoing the connection that had always been there, waiting to be acknowledged. You both stood on the edge of something monumental, the laughter of the festival fading away, leaving only the two of you and the promise of what lay ahead.

The next day, Jungwon strolled confidently down the hallway, his head of hair transformed into a stunning honeyed blonde that turned heads with every step. The shift was striking—bold, noticeable, and oddly fitting—making it seem as though he had always intended to embrace this change. Whispers and awestruck glances followed him like a gentle wave, yet beneath that cool exterior, you could see the spark of mischief in his eyes, especially when they met yours.

“Wow, he really went all out,” Arin murmured beside you, her voice a mix of surprise and admiration. “He must’ve bleached the whole thing. I didn’t think Jungwon had that in him.”

You nodded, trying to maintain your composure while your heart raced. “Yeah… surprising, isn’t it?” you replied, though a smile betrayed your nonchalance as you watched him navigate the crowd like he owned the place.

Unaware of the true significance of his transformation, your classmates continued their commentary. “Looks good on him, though,” one girl remarked, her tone infused with genuine admiration. “Like he was meant to have it all along.”

Jungwon seemed completely unfazed by the attention, wearing his new look with a blend of pride and ease, as if his blonde hair was a badge of honor that only you understood. It was a mark that connected the two of you in ways that no one else could fathom—an intimate secret wrapped in boldness.

As the hallway thinned out, he lingered by his locker, his casual demeanor slipping just a bit as he caught your gaze from across the hall. He lifted a hand, brushing back his hair with an effortless charm that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach—a subtle nod to the secret you shared.

You walked over, your heart pounding just a little faster than usual. “It suits you,” you said, keeping your voice low, the air between you thick with unspoken words.

His eyes softened, gratitude shimmering in their depths. “Good to know,” he murmured, his tone low but filled with warmth. “After all, it’s your fault it looks this good.”

A faint blush crept up your cheeks at his words, and before you could respond, he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice even more as he added, “And don’t worry. The secret’s safe.”

In that crowded hallway, with laughter and footsteps echoing around you, it felt like you and Jungwon were enveloped in your own little world. His blonde hair, like a silent vow, was a reminder of what only the two of you understood: a hidden connection, pulsing with promise and anticipation, waiting to be explored.

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flowersforbucky · 18 days ago

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devil's in the backseat

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3.7k

summary/prompt: a night at coney island with your friends turns out much differently than expected.

or getting fucked in front of a mirror

author's note: this is my first halloween fic!! this was so much fun to write. if you've read haunting adeline, then you know exactly what inspired the mirror maze scene! also disclaimer i have never been to coney island so if any of this is inaccurate then just pretend ok it's fiction :))

warnings/tags: smut, 18+ only content, sex in a public setting, mirror sex, oral (female receiving), unprotected p in v, friends to lovers, romanogers makes an appearance! kind of grumpy!reader, protective bucky, random men being creepy, language, reader is afab, she/her pronouns, reader pov, no use of y/n, porn with a little plot, fluff

my masterlist

“I can't fucking believe I let you talk me into wearing this.”

You tug the tight, cherry red colored velvet fabric of the babydoll dress in place for the dozenth time since arriving at Coney Island.

“What? You look hot. Plus, our costumes go great together.”

Natasha's costume mirrors your own - except hers is a pearlescent white and instead of a pitchfork and horns, she dons angel wings and a halo.

“I don't feel hot. I feel cold. It's fifty degrees and the sun hasn't even set yet.” If it wasn't for the black thigh high boots that cover the majority of your legs, you'd be shivering in the chilly late October weather.

“It's not my fault that you put off getting a costume until the last minute and had to pick through what little was left at Spirit Halloween,” she mumbles, passing you one of the cups of apple cider that the cashier hands to her. You gladly accept, sucking down the hot liquid in hopes that it will warm you from the inside.

Her phone dings as the two of you walk towards the rides. “It's Steve,” she informs you as she reads the text message. “They just got here,” she looks back up at you with a smirk on her face and a mischievous gleam in her eye. “Bucky decided to come with them.”

You roll your eyes, suddenly hating your borderline provocative costume even more.

“I thought he was leaving for a job in Denver this evening?”

It's not that you didn't want to see Bucky. It's that you didn't want to see Bucky dressed like this. As if you don't already get flustered around him when you're dressed in normal, everyday clothing. The hem of your dress barely conceals the curve of your ass and your tits are practically spilling over the low neckline.

“Guess it's been postponed,” she shrugs, nudging you with her shoulder.

The two of you turn to look in the opposite direction when a familiar voice calls your names. You see Steve, Sam, and Bucky walking towards you. Steve is dressed as a pirate, eyepatch and all. Sam wears a cowboy costume with an oversized hat, concealing the upper half of his face entirely.

And Bucky? Bucky wears jeans and a navy blue Henley.

Yeah, you're regretting any of your life choices that lead up to this moment.

“Well, well, well,” Sam drawls as he tips his hat back enough to take in yours and Natasha’s outfits. “Look what we have here. An angel and a devil. Have you two already entered the costume contest for best duo or should I go add your names?”

“You wouldn't dare,” you scold him. Natasha just laughs, falling into Steve’s embrace as he plants a kiss to her forehead.

“We should, you know,” Natasha agrees. “I think we'd have a pretty good shot at winning.”

“Yeah, right,” you retort, looking around at some of the more elaborate, creative costumes that many of the strangers around you are sporting. You notice a man and woman dressed as Beetlejuice and Lydia Deetz and know that you and Nat wouldn't stand a chance in a costume contest. “And what about you?” You acknowledge Bucky, your eyes skimming up and down his civilian clothes. “Didn't have time to pull together a costume?”

He smirks, his eyes trailing up your figure for a heated moment before he responds. “I'll have you know that I am in costume, actually.”

Steve and Sam both snort in laughter.

“Oh yeah? And what are you supposed to be, exactly?”

He tugs up the sleeve of his shirt, showing off the shiny vibranium that is his left arm.

“I'm the Winter Soldier,” he says with a smug grin. “Obviously.”

“How creative,” you praise sarcastically.

“Cut me some slack,” he feigns insult. “I was supposed to be halfway to Colorado right now. I didn't have time to pull together anything too cute.” His eyes flicker to your dress and boots at the word cute. If anyone else notices, they say nothing.

“What are we doing just standing around here?” Natasha exclaims, tugging Steve in the direction of the rides and games. “I want to ride every ride and eat funnel cake.”

They race ahead of the rest of you, with Sam close behind, leaving you and Bucky to fall into step beside each other.

“So, why did your mission get postponed?” You ask casually, trying to fight down the nerves that threaten to bubble over every time you're alone with him.

“Beats me,” he shrugs. “Fury didn't give much of an explanation. I got the text as I was loading my bags into the car to head out.”

“That's annoying,” you mumble, swallowing the remnants of your hot apple cider. “I'm sorry,” you tell him with a glance in his direction. “I'm sure it was for a good reason.”

He shrugs. “I'm here, so I can't be too mad about it.”

Before you can overthink exactly what he means by that, you're both brought to a halt when a jolly looking man in a Ghostbusters costume steps directly in front of you, blocking your path.

“This little devil looks like she needs a giant sloth!” He exclaims, gesturing towards the prizes hanging above the balloon darts station next to you.

“Oh, no,” you start. “That’s okay–”

“Come on!” The red-faced vendor insists, looking at Bucky. “Don't you want to win your girl a giant sloth? Perhaps a giant giraffe? If she was mine, I'd be winning her any prize she wants. I'll give you five throws for ten doll–”

“Fine, fine,” Bucky relents, digging into his back pocket for his wallet. You notice a faint hint of pink blooms along the apples of his cheeks, but he doesn't correct the man when he calls you his girl. “You've worn me down,” he sighs as he shoves a crumpled ten dollar bill into the man's hand.

The man accepts the money with a satisfied, toothy grin and hands Bucky five darts.

“If you get three out of the five throws, you can choose a prize from here,” the man gestures towards a section of smaller prizes. “And if you get all five throws, you can choose–”

The man is cut off by the sharp popping sound of a balloon, and then a second, and a third, until all five darts have been impaled on the board in a consecutive line in a matter of seconds.

“She'll take the bunny,” Bucky tells him before he can erase the stunned look off of his face. He points to a large, flop-eared purple bunny hanging from the upper row of prizes.

Unlike the vendor, you aren't shocked by his perfect aim at all. Anyone who knows Bucky would have known that he wouldn't miss a single shot. You are shocked, however, that he chose the bunny without even asking which prize you want.

The man in the Ghostbusters costume grabs the bunny and hands it to you, surprise still etched on his face. He mumbles a quick goodnight before he's moving onto the next people approaching the stand.

“How did you know I'd want the bunny?” You ask Bucky, trying to juggle the stuffed animal, your empty cup of cider, and your pitchfork all in your arms.

“You like bunnies, right? It was an educated guess.” He shrugs, moving through a thick crowd of people away from the game stations. “Here, let me carry it for you,” he offers when he notices the large stuffed animal is obstructing your vision. You hand it over to him and he tucks it underneath his metal arm.

“Thank you,” you tell him, your cheeks heating at the realization that he'd remembered such an inconsequential piece of information about you. You do like bunnies. The cold night air suddenly feels a lot more balmy.

“I'm - uh - I'm going to find a trash can real quick,” you say as you wiggle the empty cup in your hand. Truthfully, you just need a moment to collect yourself.

You begin walking in the opposite direction before he can reply, your eyes scanning the throng of people for a garbage can.

So what if he knows that you like bunnies? It's a pretty trivial fact that probably means nothing. You know that Natasha’s favorite animal is flamingos - because she's your friend. It's normal for friends to know things that their friends like.

Right? Right.

“I like that outfit a whole lot, baby. But I think you'd look even cuter in just the boots and those horns.”

You're so lost in your internal monologue that you don't even notice two men closing in on you as you toss the empty cup into a trash can. Unlike most of the people here tonight, neither of them are in costumes. They stand so close to you that you can smell booze on their breath.

“Oh, fuck off,” you groan as you attempt to walk away, but they've effectively blocked you between their bodies and the large garbage can behind you. Wicked grins grow on their faces as you realize that you can't get by them.

“Look, I don’t have the patience for this tonight. Get out of my fucking way.”

“Or what?” One of them taunts. “You'll use that little pitchfork on us? Jokes on you, because we're into that.”

“What if I used it on you?” A familiar voice comes from behind them. “Would you still like that?”

Before they can even turn around to identify the voice, Bucky is pulling him back by the hood of his sweatshirt and throwing him on the ground with little to no effort. The other one attempts to stumble away as Bucky turns his attention to him.

He still has your bunny clutched in his flesh hand - despite the seriousness of the situation, you have to bite your lip to keep from smirking at the sight. You don't know of anyone who could be quite as intimidating while holding a stuffed purple bunny.

“What about you?” Bucky asks, towering over the guy by half a foot. “You got anything you wanna say?”

“I - no - we didn't know she was with someone,” he half slurs, half stutters out. His gaze flickers to Bucky's vibranium hand. The man on the ground manages to stand back up, following after his friend.

“Now you know,” Bucky calls after them as they quickly hobble away.

“I had that handled, you know,” you tell Bucky with a nod towards your pitchfork. “But thank you, anyway. Really.”

He places a gentle but firm grasp on the top of your arms and begins to tug you in the opposite direction, guiding you through the small crowd that had stopped to witness the altercation.

“I have no doubt about that,” he sighs, releasing his grip on you when the two of you are a reasonable distance away. “But I also don't doubt that you handling it would have drawn even more attention.”

He's right. If he hadn't stepped in, your method of handling it would have been even more dramatic.

“They would have deserved it,” you mumble. “I knew I shouldn't have worn this stupid costume.”

“They definitely would have deserved it,” he agrees. “And your costume isn't stupid. You should be able to wear any costume you like without getting harassed by drunk assholes.”

The two of you approach the ferris wheel as it comes to a slow stop, a couple getting out of one of the cars. You and Bucky flash your wristbands to the operator, who offers to hold your pitchfork for you while you’re on the ride.

“Besides,” he continues as you sit down next to each other in the car, the operator locking the gate in place. “I happen to like your costume. A lot.” He turns his head to you, his gaze trailing from the tops of your thigh high boots and up to the felt horns that adorn your head.

There's a shift in energy as the ferris wheel suddenly comes to life, sending you sliding across the limited space of the metal bench seat and right up against him.

“Oh, yeah?” You tease with your face a few inches from his. Close enough to see your reflection in his irises. “Is that why two different people have implied that I'm yours tonight and you haven't corrected either of them?”

“Your costume had nothing to do with that. I wouldn't have corrected them even if you were dressed as a giant banana,” he says, his tone and face both serious. “Does it bother you that I didn't correct them?”

“No,” you answer automatically - eagerly. You should feel embarrassed, but with the way he's looking at you, and how good it feels to be pressed so snug against him, you can't find it within yourself to care. “I didn't correct them either,” you point out.

The ferris wheel comes to a stop to let new people get on when your cart reaches the peak.

“And why is that?” he asks lowly. If you weren't sitting so close to him, you wouldn't have been able to hear him over the obnoxiously loud carnival music that pours from speakers in between the ferris wheel's carts.

He wraps his metal arm around your shoulders, pulling you further into him.

“Because I liked the sound of it,” you answer honestly. Your voice quivers - from nerves, or from a gust of wind that sways the pod still perching at the top of the wheel.

“Is that right?” he murmurs. He places his flesh hand on the exposed skin of your thigh - just above the top of your boot and just under the hem of your dress. His fingertips rest near the crack between your thighs. Instinctively, you spread your legs apart - not much, but enough for him to smirk at your body's automatic response to his touch.

“You like the sound of being my girl?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I do. Is that okay with you?”

He chuckles, his fingers inching further up your thigh. You spread your legs open further, giving him the go ahead to go as high as he wants. He stops when he reaches the apex of your thighs, just an inch away from the cloth of your panties. He applies pressure with his fingertips, his short nails digging into the sensitive flesh and making you clench your legs around his hand.

“That depends,” he contemplates. “Are you my girl?”

You open your mouth to answer when the sensation of his index finger grazing the fabric that covers your cunt makes you forget how to speak. You sit there with your mouth agape as he hooks a finger into the cotton panties.

He eases a finger through your folds, lubricating it in your slick before adding a second finger and massaging the pads of them over your sensitive clit.

“Feels like you're my girl.”

You become vaguely aware of the fact that the ride is now in motion once more, heading back down to the ground, when Bucky places the stuffed bunny on your lap in an effort to conceal what is happening in the cart that you and him share.

He alternates between slow, languid circles and quick strokes against your clit as the ferris wheel makes its way down and then back up again. You can feel yourself soaking your underwear as the world dizzies around you. You hide your face in Bucky's neck to conceal the pleasure written across your face.

You're seconds away from coming against his fingers, the pressure in your belly building to a climax, when he pulls away and tugs your dress into place. Your gaze snaps up to his, shooting daggers, as the ride comes to a slow stop. He looks back at you with an amused smirk as the operator approaches the cart to unlock the gate.

“Sorry about that, sweetheart,” he tells you in a strained voice as he snatches the bunny back from you. “After you,” he motions with his head as the operator holds the gate open for you.

Stunned and speechless at what just happened, you stumble out of the cart and down the stairs to the ride's exit with Bucky behind you - both of you completely forgetting about your pitchfork. You can't help but snort a laugh at the position of the large stuffed animal - directly over Bucky’s crotch.

“Real discreet,” you tell him, glancing down at the bunny and then back up to the semi-pained expression on his face.

“I have to admit, right now this thing is worth every penny that I spent on it,” he sighs, and then removes one hand from the bunny to place it on your lower back. “Follow me,” he instructs with a smirk.

He guides you through the crowd and you follow him without question, just trying to ignore the wet ache between your legs.

You shoot him a quizzical look when you arrive at the house of mirrors. You haven't been in a mirror maze since you'd gotten lost in one at ten years old.

There's an attendant sitting in a chair outside of the entrance who unenthusiastically greets the two of you. Bucky reaches into his pocket, digging out his wallet for the second time that evening. He pulls out a hundred dollar bill and flashes it at the elderly man smoking a Pall Mall.

“Take this and don't let anyone else in until we come out,” Bucky tells him before dragging you into the attraction. You and the gray haired man both go wide eyed.

“What was that?” you cackle as the door slams to a close behind you. Bucky doesn't answer, just grabs one of your hands in his and begins guiding you through the maze of mirrors as if he's been here a hundred times.

The entire place is lit by bright, neon red lights that only aid in further confusing your sense of direction. Bucky doesn’t seem phased in the slightest, finally coming to a stop after a few minutes of maneuvering through the endless mirrors.

“You never answered me, you know,” he says as he drops your bunny to the floor. “When I asked if you're my girl.” He smirks at you, stepping closer to you and backing you against the mirror behind you.

“You just paid that man a hundred dollars to get me alone,” you jab as you pull him to you by the front of his Henley. “I think it's safe to say that I am.”

He smiles as you pull him down to you, crushing your lips to his. His hands trail down your back until they land where your thighs meet the curve of your ass cheeks. You release months worth of tension into the kiss, sweeping your tongue along the swell of his bottom lip before slipping it into his mouth the second that he parts his lips for you. He groans into the kiss, kneading the globes of your ass with his fingers. You can feel a prominent bulge through his jeans against your stomach.

Adrenaline begins to kick in when he pulls away, looking down at you with lust blown pupils. He sinks to the floor below you, kneeling in front of your cunt as he raises your dress around your waist and tugs your panties down your legs and over your boots. He slips them into his back pocket before hiking one of your legs across his shoulder.

You can already feel your juices leaking down your inner thighs before his mouth makes contact with you. When he does, you lean your head back against the glass behind you in pleasure.

He sucks your clit between his kiss-swollen lips with an obscene pop before running his tongue down your folds. He plunges his tongue inside you and you grind yourself against his face, chasing the release that you were seconds away from on the ferris wheel.

He moans at the taste of you and the vibration has your walls clenching around his tongue. You ride out your orgasm on his face, the neon red lights blurring and spinning around you.

Despite the fact that your legs feel like jelly, you pull him up to you as soon as you're able to form a coherent thought. You clumsily paw at the button of his pants and his zipper, and he shoves both his jeans and boxers down over his ass, just far enough to free his cock.

He places both of his hands just under your armpits and lifts you as you instinctively lock your legs around his hips.

The head of his cock nudges your wet folds, your juices coating his length before he nudges it inside you.

You feel full before he's even halfway in you. Your walls constrict around him and he digs his teeth into his bottom lip as he adjusts to the sensation of you.

“Fuck, that's tight. You're perfect,” he grunts as he sheaths the rest of his length into you. You let out a sound somewhere between a whimper and a gasp.

He has total control as he cradles you between his body and the cold, hard mirror behind you. He sets a harsh pace, his head ramming against your cervix at the sweetest angle from his position beneath you.

He manages to support you with the strength of only his vibranium arm as he brings his flesh hand between your bodies, once again massaging your clit in rapid circles as he fucks up into you.

You cum around his length in a shockingly short amount of time, digging your teeth into the flesh of his neck as he follows after you, filling you up with hot ropes of his cum.

You stay in the same position after you've both reached your climax, panting against one another in the claustrophobic feeling space.

“We should probably go find our friends,” you say breathlessly with a kiss to the side of his face. “Sam's probably getting sick of being a third wheel.”

He pulls out of you, his cum running down your thighs and ass cheeks. He gently lowers you back down to the ground as he begins to tuck himself back into his pants.

He laughs, cupping your face in his hands as he pulls your lips to his once again.

“If he hates being a third wheel, just imagine how much he's going to hate being a fifth wheel.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes one-shot #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #the winter soldier #halloween fic #bucky barnes x fem reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fluff

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fallingforyouforeverr · 4 months ago

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𝐍𝐚𝐩 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 | 𝐎𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐏𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢

summary: Oscar misses a team meeting, but when Lando goes to look for him, he gets a surprise

author's note: i finally published my first f1 fic!! sorry it's so short, but I have a bunch of other drafts I'm working on rn that will hopefully be finished soon. also, i literally wrote this at midnight inspired by a picture i saw on Pinterest so it's kinda bad but oh well

warnings: none, just fluff (600+ words)

• f1 masterlist • youtubers masterlist •

It was no secret to anyone that Oscar was a clingy boyfriend. The other drivers loved to compare him to a koala because of how often he would wrap himself around you, pulling you close to him and resting his head on top of yours. Although he often annoyed others by getting distracted by you, they couldn't even blame you for it and even Zak had to admit his clingyness was actually quite cute.

Today however, it was annoying – especially to Lando who had spent the last 20 minutes searching for his teammate after he failed to show up to the team meeting. He had already checked everywhere he could think of and was beginning to contemplate calling the police and reporting the younger boy missing when he heard a faint snore coming from a small room on his left. Slowly pushing open the door, Lando was met with the sight of you and Oscar sleeping on a sofa, your limbs so tightly wrapped around each other that it was hard to tell where you ended and he began.

As quietly as he could, Lando took out his phone and snapped a picture of the two of you and posted it on his story. He slid it back in his pocket, wondering how to wake his teammate without disturbing you, when Oscar stirred, stretching out his long limbs and opening his bleary eyes.

"Wakey wakey sleepyhead," Lando teased, causing the other boy to groan.

Oscar wriggled his arm out from under you, bringing it up to rub his eyes. "What time is it?" He asked.

"It's almost 2"

"WHAT!" Oscar shot up, accidentally waking you in the process, "shit I missed the meeting didn't I."

"Oz? What's wrong?" You spoke as you sat up, voice still slightly scratchy from sleep.

He froze, looking at you with wide eyes and a guilty expression. "Um... I forgot to set an alarm and I kinda slept through the team meeting."

"Oscar!" You scolded with a laugh, " Zak is gonna be so mad!"

Lando chuckled, making you jump as you hadn't realised he was there. "Oh yeah, he's pissed by the way."

Dragging a hand down his face with a sigh, your boyfriend reluctantly pulled himself out of your arms and stood up. "I'm gonna go catch up with the team," he announced, raking a hand through his hair as he rushed out to the garage.

"Oh I can't wait to see what Zak is gonna say about this" Lando began, a grinning cheekily at you. Narrowing your eyes at him in response, he held up his hands in surrender. "Ok, alright, I'm going!"

Smiling wryly at his childish antics, you began packing away your stuff, knowing that Oscar would be finished soon as he tended to become antisocial when tired. Just as you finished putting the last item in your bag, the Australian appeared in the doorway, affection laced with exhaustion in his eyes as he observed you. When you had finished, he held out his hand for you to grab as he led you through the McLaren hospitality. You had almost reached the exit when a familiar voice rang out behind you.

"Ah, Oscar, there you are!"

You both turned around guiltily to come face to face with a less than pleased Zak Brown. "We missed you in the meeting earlier, mate. I hope that nap was worth it."

"Oh yeah sorry I was um-" Oscar paused, a frown overtaking his features as he realised what the older man had said. "Wait how do you know about that?"

Zak chuckled, calling over his shoulder as he walked away, "Let's just say a certain someone isn't very good at keeping secrets."

"Lando, that absolute muppet!"

#oscar piastri #op81 #formula 1 #f1 #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #op81 x reader #op81 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x female reader #landoscar #mclaren #cariad rambles

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witchywcmans · 4 months ago

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FORBIDDEN FRUIT. | LAIOS TOUDEN

synopsis ━━ laios can't seem to get enough after he first tastes you. but the lines in your friendship are beginning to blur. it's only when your party happens upon your ex-lover in the dungeon that laios realizes what he should've communicated all along. (laios x f!reader.)

content warnings ━━ cunnilingus, praise, size kink, jealousy, classic missionary, unprotected sex, creampie, mutual pining/confession, laios and reader are not good with communication (but they work it out v well), laios is self concious but reader is so kind to him !!, monster facts as dirty talk. nsfw (minors + ageless blogs dni).

word count ━━ 4.8k

song inspiration ━━ awkward, sza / cherry, lana del rey / hunger, florence + the machine

author's note ━━ TECHNICALLY, this could be a part 2 to please, eat, so I'm just going to link as a part 2. you don't have to read please, eat before this, but if you like laios then obvi you should read it anyway!! I'm SO SORRY it took me so long to post another laios x reader 😭 I was trying to finish the manga before I wrote something else dungeon meshi-related, but life gets the way. oh well. also, this might be controversial, but in this fic I’m refuting the “laios is a virgin” allegations. SUE ME. I simply don’t believe he’s been adventuring so long and hasn’t been with anyone, that is crazzzy to me !! but that's just me 🤗 we all have our fave headcanons! my goal when I finish the manga is to write something for laios at the end of the story hehe. I hope you guys enjoy part 2! this one-shot is dedicated to @satoogojos 🫶

🪽 part i: PLEASE, EAT. / part ii: FORBIDDEN FRUIT. / part iii: TOO SWEET.

Catching feelings for your friend was truly a fickle thing. But you guessed it was bound to happen with what you and Laios were doing behind everyone’s back. Each night, after your party tucked themselves in their bedrolls, Laios would so delicately lace your arm through his and you two would find a private area … before he completely buried his face between your thighs.

He was fixated on the way you tasted, the way he could get you to cum so easily on his tongue. You were the only dessert he wanted after every dinner. Some nights, he would have you writhing from overstimulation, but he just wanted more of you – so much more.

It was a little confusing, though, how he didn’t ask for anything in return. Laios seemed to grind against the cold, dungeon floor as his tongue lapped at your essence, sometimes cumming in his pants and moaning between your legs. Or he would politely excuse himself after he was done, taking care of himself as you cleaned yourself up. You didn’t quite understand it, and maybe neither did he. You both were just too awkward to broach the subject.

The incident with the sea serpent had changed your friendship forever. Not only did Laios save you from becoming one, but the intimacy you both now shared seemed to open you up more. You found yourself divulging more secrets to him, leaning on him when you needed someone, even being more impartial to Senshi’s monster meals. And you liked the way he smiled, how he looked at you. You liked how fearless he was. You liked how protective he was over the party, especially you. You … really liked him. Far more than a crush. In fact, you wished you could go back in time and just have a crush. But your feelings for him became deeper as you crept lower and lower into the dungeon together. Your goal was still to come out of this dungeon alive, but now … you hoped that you would make it out alive together.

What a foolish girl you had become.

You tried to remain focused on the path ahead of you, but you were clearly lost in thought today. The party had reached floor 6, which meant you were closer and closer to the deepest part of the dungeon and hopefully rescuing Laios’ sister, Falin. The last thing you expected to see on floor 6 were other adventurers, let alone your ex.

You were hesitant to call him an ex, since you two had never really been anything but a warm body in each other’s beds while living on the surface. But when your bodies collided and your eyes met his, you realized why you had taken a liking to him in the first place. He had been a butcher’s son, handy with an axe, and you had liked his big, strong hands. You almost fell right into him from the slippery dungeon floor, but those strong hands seemed to catch you like you were made of air. “It’s you,” he chuckled, setting you up straight and tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “Look at you … feels like it was just yesterday when we were on the surface, huh?”

Marcille looked like she didn’t want anything to do with your ex and his party, but Senshi was very kind to offer them food, if they needed it. Chilchuck seemed neutral, and Laios … you still couldn’t read Laios as easily as the rest of the party. He watched your ex like a hawk, standing behind you as if to protect you. Your ex’s hands were big, sure, but Laios was tall, his shoulders wide and intimidating even without the armor. Laios narrowed his eyes slightly whenever he saw your ex’s gaze roam over you, like he was undressing you with his eyes. And you weren’t sure if you caught it – it only lasted a second – but did Laios clench his hands into fists?

There wasn’t enough time in the world to dwell on it. Especially when you had ghosts seemingly pulling you into another area of the dungeon and waking up on a dirt path, a beautiful golden castle mounted ahead of you. Your party was initially confused, walking into the village and seeing monsters living harmoniously with humans. After becoming acquainted with the village, you and your friends were offered a warm, delicious meal with Yaad, the lord of the Golden Country. After Yaad explained the history of this village, you all were each given rooms to rest in for the night. The beds were small and cold, but far better than a bedroll.

You were used to Laios initiating with you every night, but by the time everyone went to sleep, he still didn’t call upon you. So you stood from your bed, adjusting the nightgown given to you, and walked across the hall to where Laios’ room was. You knocked on his door, and you heard the slip of a sword into a sheath behind the thin wood. He had been inspecting Kensuke for some reason, probably mulling over Yaad’s words. When he opened the door, he was dressed in loose pants and a linen shirt, droplets running down his neck. He must’ve just bathed. You couldn’t stop yourself from digging your nails into your palm.

“Can I come in?” You asked in a hushed voice, and he moved out of the way for you to step inside.

His room looked exactly like yours, but the sheets were ruffled from lack of sleep. Laios walked around you and sat on the edge of the bed, leaving you more confused than ever. You played with your hands as you stared at him, contemplating. “Is something wrong, Laios?” You inquired, stepping closer to him. “You’ve been acting weird even before we got here.”

His brow furrowed for a moment. “How do you figure?”

“Well, you …” Your tongue clicked. “You didn’t come to find me after everyone went to bed.”

He seemed to concede, shoulders dipping at your answer. Shifting on the mattress, he propped himself up against his pillows and moved Kensuke to lean against the wall. His silence was even more perplexing. This had to be the longest time Laios went without talking. He was a blabbermouth.

“I don’t understand,” you continued, walking over and sitting on the end of his bed. “Are you … are you angry with me?”

“No, no,” Laios was quick to reply, “I’m not angry with you. I’m just …”

You raised a brow, eager to hear his answer.

“That man you recognized. On floor 6,” he finally said, his fists clenching again at the memory. “I didn’t … I didn’t like the way he looked at you. And his tone. It was disrespectful to you. Unless I’m reading this all wrong.”

You were taken aback by his honesty. So he had been bothered by your ex. “Oh,” you replied, “well … me and him, we do have history, Laios. But it’s in the past.”

“I could tell.” He was picking at his nails now, any excuse not to meet your eyes. “Everyone has a life before the dungeon. It’s not about the past. I just … I didn’t like him. Or how he looked at you like … like he still wanted you. Or something.”

“Or something,” you repeated, nodding your head. A slow smile crept onto your lips at the realization. “Laios, are you jealous?”

His head jolted up, his eyes glued to his hands, searching for something unknown. Realization washed over his face, as if he hadn’t even considered this possibility. “Oh, gods,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “This whole day I’ve been trying to reconcile with what I’m feeling and I knew I wasn’t mad at you – maybe just mad at the circumstances – and none of it made sense, but now …” He finally met your eyes, a chuckle slipping past his lips. “I was just jealous. How did I not realize?”

“Maybe because we didn’t talk about it,” you offered in a low voice, reaching out and lacing your fingers with his. A jolt of electricity ran through your fingertips and all the way up your arm. You wished you could hide your reaction, but it was clear as day, making Laios shift in his spot. “Laios, we should talk –”

“You’re not leaving the party, are you?” His grip on your fingers went tight, and he didn’t even realize it.

“No,” you laughed, scooting closer and running your free hand over his face. His cheeks flushed instantly when you touched him. “I think … we should talk about what’s happening between us.”

Laios’ gaze went narrow as he processed your words. “Oh,” he said blankly, and then his eyes went wide. “Oh.”

“I just … because we’ve been doing this every night … it’s hard not to feel …” You sighed, unable to get the words right. But he seemed to understand, quick-witted as ever, squeezing your hand in encouragement. And then he smiled at you, all dopey and kind, and your heart began to pound. “I can’t help but think that the lines are being blurred between us. My feelings for you are … much deeper than what they were initially. And if you don’t feel the same way, that’s okay. I needed you to know. I’m sorry if this hurts … whatever our relationship is.”

He was still smiling, his other hand gripping your waist, pulling you even closer. “Well, I think –”

“And now I can’t help but wonder if maybe – just maybe – you feel the same way,” you started rambling, terrified to know how he was going to reply. “Because why would you feel jealous if you didn’t … I shouldn’t make assumptions. But I still wondered. And I can’t stop talking. Again, I don’t want this to ruin anything and I’m sorry if it does. My ex doesn’t mean anything to me anymore and he won’t ever again –”

Out of nowhere, Laios used his upper body strength to flip you onto your back, pinning you to the bed. Now your cheeks were flushed, completely caught off guard by the action. He sat in between your legs, his fingers just brushing over your waist, as he said, “I do. Feel the same. I feel like I’m the one who could’ve ruined this because I didn’t realize it sooner.”

You gave him a sad smile, reaching up to cup his chin. “You couldn’t ruin anything.”

He leaned into your palm when your hand moved to his cheek, humming under his breath. He then leaned down, his body just barely pressing against yours, as if he craved your body heat. Like a moth to a flame.

“Can we not talk about your ex ever again?” He muttered, his hands running up and down your sides. “Because when I saw him today, all I could think about was …” He stopped himself abruptly.

“What?” Your curiosity peaked.

“I’m going to sound like a jealous brute,” he sighed dramatically, nose brushing against yours as his hands moved higher, thumbs grazing over the underside of your breasts. The material of your nightgown was so thin that your peaked nipples were already visible. “I just … couldn’t stop thinking about all the times I’ve tasted you that he hasn’t. I wondered if he knew exactly how you liked it, which places made those funny sounds come out of your mouth. And then, I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and all I wanted this whole day was to get you alone.”

You shuddered when his thumb brushed over one of your taut nipples, making your heel run down the back of his leg. His words alone made tingles run down your spine, but the second his hands were on you, you were properly soaked. The both of you lay there for a moment: him on top of you, nuzzling your nose, rolling his fingers over your nipples through your nightgown, eliciting breath hitches from your lips.

It was so slow, so patient, so good, but had you wanting more. And you couldn’t stop the words coming out when you blurted, “I want to have sex.”

He paused, opening his eyes for a moment, making sure he heard you properly.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you said quickly, feeling awkward. But why were you so shy all of a sudden? It’s not like he didn’t have his tongue deep inside your pussy every night. Maybe it was because there was a question still lying underneath the surface. “Why ... why don’t you want me to help you finish after you eat me out? Sometimes you just … walk away to take care of yourself.”

Laios’ face went bright red, and then he buried his face in your neck. “I’m so embarrassed.”

Your hand pushed back his cropped, blonde hair, trying to soothe his racing heart. “Why are you embarrassed?”

“Because it’s … it’s big,” he sighed and lifted his head. “There. I said it. It’s just big. And the last person who saw it made me feel super self-conscious about it.”

You couldn’t help but snort. “You’re embarrassed because you have a big dick?”

His pretty golden eyes were serious, but it looked like he wanted to laugh with you. “Please, don’t make it sound trivial.”

“It’s not trivial, it’s just …” You went to cup both his cheeks. The way he looked at you was unlike anything you ever experienced. You wondered why it took you so long to realize he felt the same. “I would never make you feel self-conscious about anything. I like everything about you, Laios.”

Your words had him melting, leaning back down into you and kissing you slowly. It was only when his tongue slipped into your mouth that his hand snaked down between your legs, just cupping your soaked entrance, the one thing he loved to eat more cheesecake. Realizing that you weren’t wearing any underwear had him reeling. “Gods …” He moaned into the kiss, his fingers simply running down your soaked folds.

As his lips broke away from yours, you asked in a tone as sweet as barometz, “Do you want to have sex, Laios?”

“Yes,” he replied, voice desperate. “Yes, please.”

Your hands went to the hem of his loose, linen shirt, breaking your kiss again to lift it over his head. For the first time, you were able to see what he looked like underneath all the armor. His shoulders were wide-set, his torso soft while also being oddly defined. Most tall-men your party encountered thought Laios was on the slender side, not believing how strong he was. But once your eyes beheld his biceps, you knew how wrong they all were. He was built and muscular and – gods, you could admire him for hours.

Laios stopped your hands from going any further, a pleading look in his eyes. He pushed your nightgown up and bunched it at the waist. “Can I taste you first?”

You nodded quickly, already intoxicated by the way he kissed you, the way he smiled at you, all eager and excited to bury his face in your pussy. It didn’t take him long; he was lightning fast, moving down your body and lifting your legs on his shoulders so he could eat you out easier. His tongue dove into your folds immediately, and he groaned at the first taste. You were acutely more aware every night that he could do this for hours, just lapping at you lazily, bringing you to orgasm over and over again. No monster compared to the way you tasted.

His nose bumped your clit as he tongued your leaking hole, practically whimpering at every drop of your wetness that reached his mouth. Large, calloused hands wrapped around your thighs, making sure they didn’t close and digging into your flesh. Your own hands fisted into the sheets, your ass lifted off the bed, but you could still grind your hips against his face. Soft whines left your lips, nothing compared to the groans Laios was making as he ate you like he didn’t have a three-course meal just an hour ago. You almost wondered if you should tell him to quiet down, afraid of the others hearing, but you were too lost in the pleasure to care.

It was clear to you the closer you got to reaching your peak that Laios wasn’t keen on stopping. And as much as you truly wanted to cum all over his tongue, you thought it was important that you both have this new experience together. It took you a few seconds to finally gather the courage to say something, his tongue feeling too good as he swirled it around your sensitive clit. “Laios,” you called, and then a little louder, “Laios.”

He lifted his head, your juices dripping down his chin. A primal urge made him want to dive back into you, but he controlled himself. His tongue licked at your essence around his mouth, and you shuddered at the sight.

“I want you inside me,” you whispered. “Is that okay?”

“Yes, yes,” he muttered hoarsely, placing your legs so delicately back on the bed, as if they were made of glass. “Of course.” He so desperately wanted to taste you again, but he was even more excited for this, to finally feel something other than his hand wrapped around his cock. You were the first person he ever tasted, but it had been quite a while since he was truly intimate with someone, to slide into someone and feel them clench around him.

As you tugged off your nightgown, Laios began to work at the ties of his pants. But his hands stopped as they came undone, glancing up at you with hesitation. You looked so pretty sitting in the middle of his bed, waiting for him, naked and vulnerable. He felt silly for feeling so self-conscious, especially when you were so beautiful like this.

“Laios,” you cooed, caressing his arm, “there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. And if you don’t want to, then we can stop.”

He almost choked on a laugh. “Trust me,” he replied, “I want to.”

After another beat of stalling, Laios finally stepped out of his bottoms and blushed pink from ear to ear. His cock was … well, it certainly was big. You sympathized with him; if anyone told you something about your body during sex, you would focus on that forever. But there was nothing for him to be embarrassed about. Truthfully, most males would kill to have what he did. His cock was thick and long, a few veins trailing down the shaft, curving up at his pretty red tip that was dripping with precum. You got even more wet just from staring at it, wondering what he would finally feel like inside of you.

Your mouth opened to say something, anything to make him feel better, but he was already talking: “I need a distraction so I don’t think about you staring at it.” He crawled back onto the bed and between your thighs, immediately pressing his lips to yours. You could taste yourself still on his mouth, and your arms wound around his shoulders instantly. His teeth tugged at your bottom lip, and he asked, “Can I just … ramble about monster facts for a minute?”

You blinked, not expecting that. Laios released your lower lip and sighed, clearly still nervous. “It’ll help me get over this feeling. I swear. Or if you want to stop this, we can. I’ll … I’ll understand –”

“Laios,” you huffed, your mouth pulling back into a sweet smile, “I want you to do whatever makes you feel comfortable.”

“Oh, thank the gods,” he muttered, nuzzling his face back into your neck, placing sloppy kisses. “Did you know that … that harpies almost exclusively have the head of a female human and it is unknown if male harpies exist?”

His voice was muffled against your neck, but you could tell he was desperate and aching. You felt his hard length against your stomach, smearing precum on the exposed skin. “Really?” You breathed out, trying to engage with him but completely failing when he licked a stripe up your neck. A moan escaped your lips.

“There’s also … there’s, uh …” He was struggling to talk now, grasping his cock and giving it a few quick pumps before teasing the head against your dripping wet folds. Your legs instinctively opened wider for him, hoping to whatever gods were out there that you could take his cock. “There also exists a seabird variant of harpies called … called, Sirens. Their wings and … their – their tail look like a seagull’s.”

You could hardly breathe as you asked, “What else, Laios?”

He began to push inside you slowly, letting you adjust with each inch. “Okay, okay … uh … bicorns … bicorns hate – oh, fuck.” Just the feeling of your tight warmth wrapped around his cock had him biting into your shoulder, like you were the forbidden fruit. He could hardly string together a word, could hardly think, as he sank deeper and deeper into you, his whole body shaking. “Bicorns hate … hate virtue. They prefer – shit – immorality. It is believed that … doing all seven deadly sins will … will allow an individual to approach a bicorn – fuck. Fuck. It feels –”

When he was finally buried to the hilt, all he could do was breathe into your neck. You whined, locking your legs around his waist. The stretch was unbelievable; your walls gripped him like a vice. But it was even better than you could’ve imagined. If you had thought originally that the night would go this way, you would’ve at least brushed your hair. Laios didn’t care though, inhaling the flowery scent as he nosed your pretty strands. You couldn’t even comprehend – whether it be from the stretch of his thick cock inside you or the overwhelming amount of butterflies in your stomach – how you were so lucky to have found him.

Not to mention, you felt even luckier that this wasn’t happening on a cold dungeon floor.

With one hand carding into his hair, you chuckled under your breath, “Had enough of reciting monster facts?”

“Mmhmm …” He groaned, unable to form a sentence. You finally felt him pull back before pushing into you in one fast, deep thrust, making you shiver. Your body was hardly used to feeling this full, but you wanted him so badly that it was humiliating, a pink blush tinting your nose. “You feel so good,” he muttered.

You pulled on his hair, and his head lifted from your neck. His lips were swollen from kissing you. Yours probably looked the same. But that didn’t matter right now as he held your gaze and began thrusting into you a little faster. His eyes were the color of melted gold, flecked with amber and brown, and you felt like you could stare into them forever while he fucked you. Laios lifted one of your legs higher on his waist, but his other hand stayed around your middle, keeping you nestled against him.

“Laios,” you whimpered, feeling him nudge your clit with each roll of his hips. Despite his desperation, his pace was tender and relaxed, making sure you were adjusting to his size. He knew he was big – clearly, it was something he’d been self-conscious about for a while – but the way you were looking at him right now … he’d never felt more at ease, more special. This was all he ever wanted: to be close to someone like this, to find intimacy with someone he had true feelings for. All the other times had been stepping stones, leading to this moment with you, where your warmth enveloped him so nicely and your gaze made him want to cum on the spot.

His hips began to move a little faster, pushing even deeper inside you, as his mouth swallowed your moans in a hungry kiss. Face going hot, you trembled, and his cock pulsed inside you with each pass. Your nails dragged down his shoulder blades, leaving marks for him to examine later, like a predator with its prey. Goosebumps raised on his skin, feeling himself get closer … and closer … and closer. If you kept digging your nails into him like that, he’d surely lose his grasp on reality. But you just felt so good, so warm, and he craved you. Craved you like you were his last meal.

“Laios,” you croaked out when his lips broke from yours, “Laios, are you close?”

He could hardly say anything else but, “Mm …”

You thought you could get there by now from his tongue teasing you earlier, but you needed a little more friction. Bumping against your clit wasn’t enough. “Okay, okay,” you rambled, reaching down between your legs to touch yourself. “Just hold off for another minute. I’ll get there.”

Laios opened his eyes, realizing what you were doing, immediately envious of your own hand. “No, let me,” he murmured, voice like honey, and found your clit easily. “Then I can taste you on my fingers after.” His excitement made you laugh, which brought a smile to his own lips.

He shifted a little, pulling back so only his tip rested inside you, and fucked back into you at a different angle, one that brushed against your special spot. The stimulation of both your clit and g-spot had your back arching, whimpers slipping out of your lips like a chant.

“Is … this … better?” He asked, panting after each word.

Your voice was strained when you answered, “Y—Yes.”

His balls slapped against the underside of your ass, and he knew how close he was, but all he cared about at this moment was cumming together. He needed to see that look on your face when you reached your peak. He only got to see it a few times, when he lifted his eyes while tasting you, watching the way your lips parted and sweat ran down your forehead.

His fingers rubbed tight circles on your aching clit – knowing exactly what you liked – and you were close. So, so close already. Laios had a way of touching you that felt inquisitive, yet effortless. Like he wanted to learn which spots made you moan the loudest, while also already knowing without even touching you. You grew to like him not just because of his dopey grin, his protectiveness, or his positivity, but also for the way he was willing to learn with you, the way he needed you. And right now, he needed you to cum more than anything.

Tension coiled in your lower abdomen, making you gasp out, “Laios – fuck – Laios, I’m gonna –”

“I know, I know,” he rasped. His pace was nearing on brutal, his whole body shaking as he held off his release for you. “Together. We’ll – together.”

And then, your muscles tighten. You clenched around his cock, and it only took one more thrust against your g-spot to have you falling apart underneath him. You put a hand over your mouth as you cried out, careful of the rest of the party hearing. Your eyes rolled back, his fingers stroking your clit through it, and it all just felt too, too good. Your orgasm went on forever, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over you. As your walls spasmed around his cock, he groaned low, finally spilling into you. His hips stuttered. His mouth gasped for air against your lips, as he felt a ripple of relief from emptying himself inside you. He bit into your shoulder again to muffle his own noises. Your pussy convulsed, milking every last drop, and you were pretty sure you saw stars.

Once the aftershocks hit you both, he slumped against you, breathing in the scent of your hair again. Your fingers traced small circles onto his back muscles, your chest rising and falling with the fast beat of your heart. When his cock went soft inside you, his fingers finally left your clit and he brought them to his mouth. Your eyes were half-lidded as you watched him wrap his lips around his fingers and suck the juices off, moaning at the taste. He looked like an intricate painting; you couldn’t help but admire the sight.

His fingers left his mouth with a wet pop, and he whispered in a voice so soft you almost didn’t hear him, “You just taste so, so good.”

Laios kissed you again, slow and full of affection. You didn’t even care that he was still inside you; you could stay like this forever, pressed into his warm skin. Gods, you liked him so much that you immediately whimpered as his tongue slid into your mouth, and when he shuddered at your fingers on his back … you couldn’t believe you once questioned if he returned your feelings. You had both been so oblivious.

His mouth moved away from yours and he cupped your cheek. He took a moment to memorize the dusting of red across your face, the way your eyes hardly opened after sex, and then said, “Are you hungry? I think we both need a snack. It’s been a long night already.”

You giggled. “You had me at hungry.”

#my fics #fic: forbidden fruit #laios touden x reader #laios touden smut #laios x reader #laios touden x reader smut #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi x reader #dunmeshi #laios touden #laios dungeon meshi #one shot: forbidden fruit #fic: please eat

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officialaemondtargaryen · 5 months ago

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Dinner & Diatribes

❝i knew it from the first look of mischief in your eye.❞

Summary: You both swiped right and suddenly you're standing in a stranger's kitchen while he makes you spaghetti.

Pairing: Modern Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Author’s Note: this might be the most self-indulgent fic i've ever written, so fair warning. also, thank you tom, who inspired this by saying that dinner & diatribes would be aegon's hozier song. it's just true. anyways, this was really fun to write.

Warnings: language, recreational drug use, alcohol use, fluff, intense sexual situations (including: oral sex - female receiving, sexual intercourse - p in v), just two single people who are horny, more fluff, aegon being so cute that i couldn't stop smiling the whole time i was writing this.

It was precisely 9:39 PM on a Tuesday.

You were sitting cross-legged on your couch, nose deep in a fresh murder mystery that you had been working through for the last two days. There was a lit joint between your fingers that you were nursing, taking little hits so that it wouldn’t completely burn out, and on the cushion next to you, your phone softly vibrates and lights up; a familiar icon flashes across the screen and you can easily make out the words, “It’s a Match” from the corner of your eye.

It’d been a regular occurrence since you had downloaded that accursed app.

You’d been single for far too long, according to your best friend, though you hadn’t really noticed. The sweet silence of a solitary life was something that you had enjoyed for the most part. It wasn’t even like your online dating life had really taken off, either. You’d get matches but hardly anyone would reach out in any way that made you feel like they were serious. They wanted your Snapchat username, or they were in an ‘open’ relationship or asking for a threesome, and one guy even asked if you would send him pictures of your feet. Even some of the ones you thought were serious about taking you out- or even just hooking up- would end up ghosting you before anything actually happened.

“It’s not supposed to be serious,” you could hear your friend’s words rattling around in your brain. You shake your head and focus once again on your book; they have a suspect, it’s the best friend! How fitting.

Once again, your phone lights up and vibrates. Not wanting to be distracted from the plot, you ignore your new match and get back to your mystery with anticipation; the best friend is about to confess. You go to take another hit of your joint and frown upon realizing it’s burnt out. As you move to grab your lighter, in comes another message, and another, and another. You stop what you’re doing and pick up your phone, swiping at the screen until you find the culprit. He’s known only as Aegon T, and according to the one sentence he has written on his profile, he has a dog. You swipe through his pictures- the dog is a golden retriever, the man looks like a golden retriever.

In the message thread, he’s basically talking to himself.

There’s four new messages waiting for you, while three little dots begin flashing at the bottom of the screen; disappearing and reappearing as you read what he’s already sent.

“So, I’m high.”

“And I am making spaghetti… and it’s really good.”

“At least I hope it’s really good, it could just be the weed…”

“I could use a taste-tester, if you’re up for it? I can’t pay you or anything, but it’s honest work 😏”

Aegon begins typing again and you watch the screen, a smirk on your lips. You are 99% sure that the spaghetti is truly an innuendo for what he really wants and have half a heart to just block him, but you watch as those little gray dots continue in the bottom left corner of the screen; he’s going back and forth with himself and you can’t help but find it oddly cute. Your fingers hover over the keyboard as you contemplate a witty response, but before you can even begin typing, he sends a fifth message.

“That was weird as fuck, right?”

Then a sixth.

“You probably don’t want to come over to some random guy’s house on a Tuesday.”

He finishes up with a seventh message.

“Unless you do…”

He almost sends an apology. After all, what's another message? He’s already fucked this whole thing up; not even giving himself a chance before he nose-dived. If he was being honest, he should just go ahead and delete his whole account; save you from secondhand embarrassment and save himself from repeating the same mistake again in the future. He sets the phone down on the kitchen counter and goes back to ripping bong hits to calm his nerves. Though, he’s unable to keep himself from checking his phone for a response; a response that likely wasn’t going to come and he’d spend the rest of his night feeling like a complete idiot.

Seven back-to-back messages should have screamed ‘red flag’, but you’re glancing at the clock as if you were seriously contemplating taking this stranger up on his offer. After all, you do have needs just as much as the next person. But, you’re wearing a sweatshirt and a pair of pajama shorts, your hair’s a mess, and you were covered in the crumbs of your munchie snacks. Meaning, you were nowhere close to being prepared for what was sure to happen between you and this random stoner offering you dinner.

Yet, you respond to him, “I could never turn down spaghetti”.

Aegon’s stirring the sauce when he gets your message. He’s instantly elated, thrusting a celebratory fist into the air. His fingers fly across the keyboard swiftly, sending another quick message, “Atta girl 🙃 My place is on the corner of 9th and 51st, above Jasper’s.”

“Be there soon,” you reply with haste.

It was apartment #4 and you made sure to text your friend the address, and given name of your potential murderer, and also share your location for her to keep an eye out. She says all you have to do is text her at any time if you need her to call and bail you out with a fake emergency. All she asks in return is for you to have fun and let her know if you are planning on spending the night- which was an idea that you weren’t opposed to, but it wasn’t something you were planning on.

You’re nervous as you stand outside of the door to his apartment, fist hovering for a moment. Now’s the time to make a fast exit- you haven’t met him, you could turn around right now and never meet him. You could wake up alive in the morning, safe in your own bed. Or, you can knock on the door and have what might be a really nice spaghetti dinner with a really nice guy. Hell, he could even be the love of your life and in fifty years you’ll both look back on this day and laugh about how you met on Tinder and how you were stupid enough to go to his house and not a public place.

Finally, you knock.

Aegon puts the lid back on his spaghetti sauce and shuffles into the living room. Sunfyre is on the couch with his ears perked; his tail’s wagging and he’s panting eagerly, waiting patiently to meet this new visitor. Aegon whispers over to him, “wish me luck,” and thinks to himself, please don’t be a catfish, please don’t be a catfish, please don’t be a catfish. He peers through the peephole when he approaches the door and there you are, a sigh of relief deflates his chest.

“Oh, thank God,” you can hear him say as the door swings open. His accent is surprisingly British. “You’re real.”

The very first thing that you notice are his eyes. They’re piercing; somehow blue and lavender at the same time– the color of a warm, summer sunrise and they’re crinkling at the edges as he smiles. He’s wearing a pair of dark gray sweats and a pale green hoodie, and the only word that comes to mind when you look at him is warmth. He’s somehow more attractive in person than he is in the pictures on his profile, which you didn’t think was possible, but he’s standing right in front of you and you can’t help but think to yourself, he doesn’t look like a murderer.

Then again, neither did Ted Bundy.

Aegon stands there for a moment, just staring at you, unable to do anything else. His words escape him, he can barely even breathe. You look exactly the same as your pictures; even without the makeup and even in the shitty, fluorescent overhead lights of the hallway. Even in a sweatshirt and pajama shorts, you’re stunning. He’s having a hard time believing that you actually showed up and he doesn’t realize that he’s been staring for much too long until you shrug back at him.

“Did you think I wasn’t?” You ask with creased brows and a lopsided smile.

The corners of his lips pull upwards as he looks at you, “I don’t know. You’re just so beautiful, I’m still not entirely convinced you aren’t some sort of hologram… or a robot.”

“Wow, you’re pretty smooth,” you say with a playful smirk, desperately trying to keep your composure— trying to play it cool, hoping that he hasn’t caught on to the fact that you’re secretly spiraling, because it took all of one smile and one compliment and you were done for. “But, I’ll have you know that flattery won’t work on me. I’m here for the spaghetti and the spaghetti alone.”

“My apologies,” Aegon says with a chuckle as he holds his hands up defensively. “Right this way, then.”

He steps to the side, allowing you to enter his apartment, and shuts the door behind you. It’s nice, clean, smells like fresh baked bread and tomato sauce. There’s niche artwork adorning the walls, he’s got candles burning, and there’s some lowkey, downtempo R&B playing softly in the background. He quickly moves past you and disappears into the kitchen, leaving you to follow him.

However, before you can take all of two steps into his apartment, a flash of golden fur is suddenly at your hip, pawing for attention. You drop down to a knee and happily accept any and all kisses from the pup. “Oh! Hi, what’s your name?”

Aegon sticks his head around the corner and says, “That is Sunfyre. In case you were wonderin’, he’s a very good judge of character and I will be consultin’ with him later where you’re concerned, fair warning.”

You roll your eyes and scratch behind Sunfyre’s ears, his tail thumps in approval.

“Would you like something to drink?” He continues and disappears back into the kitchen. “I’ve got wine and bottled water. Oh, and milk?” There’s a rustling in the kitchen before Aegon adds with a nervous chuckle, “scratch that, there is no milk.”

You politely excuse yourself from Sunfyre and step into the small dining room off of the kitchen.

There’s a grin on your lips, which you pursed so that he doesn’t think you’re laughing at him. Sunfyre joins the two of you and circles around his owner’s legs as Aegon empties an almost full half-gallon of milk down the drain. His kitchen is small but looks to be well used, which you appreciate. You know almost nothing about this man, other than his name- if ‘Aegon’ was even his real name- and the name of his dog, and yet here you were, standing in the threshold of his kitchen with a strange sense of comfortability as if you had been lifelong pals.

“Water is fine,” you tell him.

He produces a bottle of water from his fridge and tosses it over to you with ease and goes back to the stove. You step further into the kitchen, taking in your surroundings. The kitchen, like the living room, is covered in artwork and vintage decor- things you’d only find in some obscure thrift store or estate sale. On the refrigerator are a collection of magnets from different cities and countries, real touristy type shit. Some of them even had names on them; Alexander, Aaron, Alistair, Alan, Adolf.

Maybe these are the names of people he’s killed.

“You travel a lot?” You ask, trying to keep the conversation going.

“I try to,” he says from over his shoulder as he continues to stir the sauce. You can hear him set the lid back on the pot. “Most of those are from my sister, Helaena. She thinks it’s hilarious to give me magnets with random ‘A’ names since you’ll never find the name Aegon on any of those,” he says from behind you. He’s leaning against the counter with a half glass of wine. You quirk an eyebrow at him, not fully convinced. “She has a few from me that say Helen.”

“Is that her?” You ask, finger pointing to a pretty blonde in one of the many photographs he had pinned up.

He nods and takes a step closer to you. He’s so close that you can feel his warmth, smell his aftershave. The proximity causes you to blush and he smirks in response, leaning over your shoulder as he points to the other people in the pictures. “Those two are my little brothers, Aemond and Daeron,” he claims and then points to two women. “That’s my half-sister, Rhae, and next to her is my mother.”

“The redhead?” You ask surprised, given she didn’t look like she could be old enough to have four grown children. He nods and takes a step back, leaning against the counter with half-lidded eyes and a tipsy blush. “She looks like she could be your sister,” you say softly, turning back to glance at all of the faces; he seemed proud of his family, like they were very close.

You turn away from the fridge and lean against the counter at his side. It’s quiet for a moment, save for the music and the sound of boiling water where the noodles were cooking. You look at him and the corners of your lips can’t help but twist up into a shy smile, but you bite at the inside of your cheek out of nervous habit. He props himself up on his elbows, taking a sip of his wine, clearly comfortable with the silence.

“So,” you look up at him and his little smirk grows. “About the job…”

“Ah, yes,” he nods. “As I stated earlier, I won’t be able to pay you a monetary wage, but the position does come with a benefits package.”

“And what exactly would this benefits package include?” There’s an innocent flirtatiousness in your voice that only adds to the tension.

“Outside of the free gourmet meals that I would be providin’ to ya, which is obviously the most important part,” he smiles and steps to the side to grab a spoon from the drawer and holds it out to you. Your fingers softly close around his as you pluck the utensil from his grasp. He clears his throat to distract from the fact that he was visibly flustered from the slight touch. “There’s also unlimited cuddle sessions,” before he can finish, you shoot him a look. “With Sunfyre, of course! He’s the real boss ‘round here, after all.”

“Cuddling with the boss?” You quirk an eyebrow and look down at the golden retriever, his eyes round and gleaming; clearly waiting for a hand-out. “Sounds like a conflict of interest to me.”

“Well, if it’s a conflict of interest you’re worried about,” he counters quickly with a soft yet playful tone. “I s’pose we could renegotiate the terms of the agreement and you could have me instead.”

“I’m listening.”

“He might be better at cuddling for obvious reasons and he might be better lookin’,” Aegon continues. “But, I give better backrubs. I mean, I have thumbs and he don’t. You can’t give decent backrubs without thumbs, can you? Plus, he’s a sloppy kisser.”

“Oh, you’re really trying to sweeten the deal now, huh? Backrubs and kisses? I must admit, that is quite a compelling offer,” you muse. “It seems my decision hinders on whether or not you can actually cook, wouldn’t want to accept the position blindly, now would I?”

“Are ya doubtin’ my skills?” He asked playfully.

“No offense, but you possess the aura of someone who could fuck up a can of Spaghettios,” you tell him with a sincere smile. “So, forgive me if I don't get my hopes up.”

Aegon laughs and it’s a warm and infectious sound that fills the kitchen. It’s genuine, as is his perfect smile. You can’t seem to keep yourself from staring; eyes softly tracing every detail of his face– from his full, pink pout, to the scar above his right eyebrow, and the dimple of his chin– thinking to yourself that you’ve never seen a man more beautiful. His smile turns back into a smirk as he notices you staring at his lips and you look up to meet his eyes. There’s something about the way he looks at you that leaves you feeling vulnerable. His gaze softens as you look away, turning your attention back to the spaghetti sauce on the stove in front of you to distract yourself from the blush creeping up your neck.

There’s only one way this night ends.

It was obvious before you even left your house and it was certainly obvious now.

“Go on, then,” he prods, motioning to the pot on the stovetop.

His eyes are wide with anticipation as you dip into the simmering sauce, stirring it a few times before bringing the spoon to your lips. He’s nervous; it’s his mother’s recipe– one he’s spent years perfecting– but with his luck, you will most likely think it’s steaming garbage. Yet, he watches intently; holding his breath as your perfect lips curl to blow softly, cooling the sauce before you finally taste it.

The moment the spoon touches your tongue, you're determined to remain impartial. After all, you’ve had your fair share of disappointing meals from men who’ve claimed to be great cooks. Aegon certainly could be the very latest and you wouldn’t be at all surprised. So, you keep your expectations low, and try your hardest to remain stoic, but as the flavors begin to unfold, you can feel your resolve wavering.

It’s good. Better than most.

Reluctantly, you have to admit that this is the second-best sauce you’ve ever had, right after your grandmother’s. You glance up at Aegon, who’s watching you with a mix of anxiety and hope, and you can’t help but smile.

“I have to give it to you,” you say, your voice betraying a hint of admiration. “This is incredible. Almost as good as my grandmother’s.”

The relief and pride that spread across his face makes your heart flutter.

“Yeah?” He asks with a toothy grin.

“I’m still not completely convinced that you can actually cook, but you can– at the very least– make some top-notch spaghetti sauce,” you tell him as you place your spoon to the side.

“Top-notch, eh?” He asks playfully as he begins plating your meal. “I’ll take it.”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” you say to him with a laugh. “It’s just spaghetti sauce.”

“Just spaghetti sauce? Don’t let my mum hear you say that,” he says with a smirk, setting a full plate in front of you on the counter. “I guess I’ll just have to work extra hard on the next one.”

“Assuming there will be a next one,” you reply, tone dripping with playful sarcasm. “Though, you have set the bar pretty high tonight. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Well,” he murmurs as he steps closer, his body brushing against yours as he reaches around you to grab a plate. His lips are hovering above the shell of your ear, his voice low and teasing, causing your cheeks to immediately flush as the heat between the two of you intensifies. “I’m nothing if not a perfectionist.”

For a split second you expect for him to lean in for a kiss. Your heart is simultaneously skipping beats and racing at the same time; your breath catching in your throat as he leans in— But then he smirks, grabbing the plate and taking a step backwards. He’s doing it on purpose, you realize; his proximity expertly calculated to keep you on edge. You look up at him with wide, sparkling eyes and he knows he’s got you right where he wants you. The soft blush of your cheeks has his blood pumping and sends a surge of adrenaline through him. He’s trying his absolute best to play it cool but the way you’re biting your lip and looking at him has him unraveling.

“Is that so?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. “What other skills do you have up your sleeve?”

His grin widens as he looks down at you, setting his empty plate to the side. His gaze, once again, drops to your lips. “I have a few tricks,” he says softly, his voice filled with promise. “But I doubt you’d believe me if I told you, so how about I just show you?”

“What?” You ask with a playful innocence. “Before dinner?”

“I’m not really in the mood for spaghetti anymore.”

“Oh?” Your smirk is only growing. “What are you in the mood for?”

Aegon says nothing, but a confident grin tugs at the corners of his lips as he rests his hands on your hips. He doesn’t hesitate to pull you in by the waist, until you’re pressed against him and his lips are on yours. The kiss is both gentle and urgent and a little bit awkward, as any first kiss should be. You felt like a teenager again, kissing a boy for the first time– butterflies in your stomach and all.

It takes no time at all for you to find your rhythm with him, and he deepens the kiss, pushing you up onto the kitchen counter to meet his height. Your arms naturally drape across his shoulders, your legs wrap around his middle. He’s completely taken over your mind, filling up every tiny space that he can fit into; the smell of his cologne, the scratch of his stubble against your skin, the feeling of his hands squeezing the flesh of your thighs– his fingertips teasing just underneath the hem of your shorts.

Breathless, he pulls away from you as he pulls your sweatshirt over your head. He stops for a moment to take in the sight of you; clad only in your bra and shorts, lips red and blotchy, swollen and full. You’re looking up at him from under your lashes, softly biting your bottom lip as you wait for him to continue. He gently lifts his hand up to your cheek and traces the curve of your cupid’s bow with his thumb, providing one last show of tenderness before he leans in to capture your lips in another searing kiss.

His touch is suddenly rushed; spreading a wildfire across your skin in the wake of his lips as he rips off the remainder of your clothes. It doesn’t take long at all before you’re sitting exposed on his kitchen counter in only a thong, blushing wildly and covering your face with your hands.

“No– no hiding,” he clicks his tongue and pulls your hands away from your face. “I want to see you.”

He whispers a string of profanities and compliments as his starving eyes roam your figure. Self-doubt creeps into your mind and you momentarily consider making a quick exit, convinced he won’t like what he sees, but the way he’s looking at you makes you feel desired in a way you haven’t felt in a long time.

Aegon’s gaze is electrifying and intense, drawing you in and silencing your negative thoughts instantly. His hands pull you in by the waist, sliding you to the edge of the counter as his lips work their way down your chin and neck; leaving a trail of red marks down to your chest. He hums, smirking as he takes one of your breasts in his mouth. His hand kneads the other, rolling your hardened nipple between two fingers. Your head falls back, lips parted slightly as you breathe out his name.

Each sound he elicits from you urges him on even further until he’s on one knee, looking up at you from his position with those pretty eyes. He runs a hand up the back of your calf, softly teasing you with his fingertips before tossing your leg over his shoulder. You knew where he was going, and yet, you were still surprised as he began placing open mouthed kisses on the inside of your thighs; shivering in anticipation as goosebumps formed on your skin.

“You’re so wet,” he says proudly, praising you.

His eyes are locked with yours as his fingers delicately smooth over your clothed clit. He hooks a finger around the dampened cotton and pulls your thong to the side, groaning at the sight of your perfect pussy. Without wasting another second, Aegon’s mouth is suddenly on you and your hands immediately find the back of his head; fingers curling into the roots of his silver hair.

You roll your hips against his tongue, cursing out as your legs begin to shake. He moans, face still buried deep in you and the vibrations have you writhing. Both of his arms are wrapped around your thighs now, holding you tight to him, not letting up for even a second. Then he stands, lifting you up onto his shoulders. You squeal in shock, holding onto him tightly, but he doesn’t stop; he continues to devour you as he blindly carries you towards his bedroom.

When his knees hit the side of his bed, he tosses you back onto the mattress.

You prop yourself up on your elbows and watch as he strips out of his clothes. . You can see the outline of his arousal; prominent and pressing firmly against the fabric of his sweats. You bite your lip at the sight and he smirks as he catches your stare. His movements are unhurried, giving you ample time to appreciate the sight before you. His hoodie and shirt come off first, then his sweats, and you can’t help but notice the way that his muscles flex with each motion. He’s not overly built, but there’s a solid strength in his frame that is evident in the way he moves.

Outside, headlights from passing cars cast streaks of light and shadows across the walls of his room. It’s quiet, the music in the other room has stopped playing and all you can hear is the sound of your own heart beating in your ears. You swallow thickly, encompassed by the tension of the moment as he crawls up the length of your body; placing tender kisses along your skin. His lips leave a trail of warmth, each touch igniting a spark that travels through your entire body.

When he reaches your face, he pauses, his breath mingling with yours as he hovers just inches away. The anticipation builds, thick and electric in the air between you. His lips find yours in a kiss that starts slow and tender but quickly deepens; fingers threading through your hair as he pulls you closer, his body pressing yours deeper into the plush mattress. Your hands explore his back, tracing the contours of his muscles, feeling the tension and strength beneath his skin and coming to rest on his shoulders; gripping tightly as he continues to worship your body with his mouth. Each kiss, each touch, is deliberate, heightening your senses and pulling you further into the moment.

You curse at the feeling of his girth against your entrance. Your hand moves up to the back of his neck, pulling him down to meet your lips as he presses slowly into you.

“Oh fuck,” he whimpers into the crook of your neck as his arms become weak.

He knows that he won’t last like this; it’s been a while and you feel way too good. He’s slow at first, wanting to steady himself and maintain control, but his rhythm picks up quickly; hips moving with an unrelenting rhythm, each thrust bringing you both closer to the edge. You can feel his muscles tense, his grip on you tightening as he buries his face in your neck. His moans are a mix of pleasure and desperation, and you can tell he’s fighting to hold back.

You tighten your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, feeling the overwhelming need to reach that peak together. His pace quickens, the tension in his body building to a breaking point. You feel the same pressure inside of you mounting before it’s suddenly crashing over you like a wave. He follows seconds later, a low groan escaping his lips as he spills into you. The intensity of the moment leaves you both breathless and clinging to each other, bathing in the afterglow.

“That was incredible,” he murmurs against your skin, head pressed to your chest as you stroke his hair softly. His eyes flutter shut as he listens to the sounds of your heartbeat.

You hum in agreement, smiling to yourself as you savor the peacefulness of the moment.

Suddenly, you’re joined by Sunfyre jumping up on the bed, his tail wagging enthusiastically. You smile at him and pat the empty space next to you, inviting him to join your cuddle session. He eagerly accepts the invitation, circling the bed a few times before snuggling up next to you. Aegon lifts his head and smiles, clearly pleased that you would be so open to having the dog in bed with you. He wraps his arm around both you and Sunfyre, pulling you closer.

“This is perfect,” he says softly, his voice filled with contentment as he lays his head back on your chest.

"So, about that job offer," you say playfully, your fingers tracing patterns along his skin. "I think I'll accept the position. When would you like for me to start?"

He lifts his head to look at you, a playful glint in his eyes. “How about tomorrow night at seven?”

Before you can respond, a distinct burning smell reaches your nose. Your brows furrow as you sniff the air. “Do you smell that?”

Aegon’s eyes widen in realization. “The spaghetti!”

He jumps up from the bed, pulling on his clothes quickly, and scrambles into the kitchen. You follow behind him, tossing one of his t-shirts over your head and meet him in the kitchen.

“I guess I forgot to turn off the burner,” Aegon looks disappointed but then chuckles, shaking his head. He looks at you with a glint in his eye and smirks. “Occupational hazard, I guess.”

“Oh, that sucks!” You laugh, playfully nudging him. “Is it too late to back out of the job now?”

��Way too late for that,” he says as he pulls you into a soft kiss, silencing any doubts immediately. “You’re mine now.”

“Mm,” you hum against his lips. “But I came here for the spaghetti.”

He chuckles and pulls back slightly. “Will you settle for pizza?”

“I’ll settle for anything, as long as it’s with you,” you say with a smile as you wrap your arms around his waist. “And as long as there’s extra cheese!”

2K notes · View notes

thewidowsledger · 1 month ago

Text

Toothbrush

Pairings: Nerd!Natasha Romanoff x MILF!Reader

Word count: 5.2k

Tags | Warnings: +18, AMAB!Natasha, beefy and super nerdy Natasha, MILF!reader, reader is 39 and Natasha is 22, dating apps, Tony being a good and a bad friend at the same time, lying about age, reader has sons, dirty talk, switch r & Nat but more like a top!Natasha, breeding kink, mommy kink, breast sucking, riding, teasing, rough sex, creampie, squirting, overstimulation, fingering (r receiving), ghosting (kinda), unintentionally stealing clothes👀 (?)

Author’s Note: I know I said I am going to post this tonight but my daimonion is telling me to post this right now, lol. This fic is inspired from this request, but I changed it like a lot lot I guess...I hope it's fine for whoever requested it🥹 the title is inspired by DNCE's song: Toothbrush I am currently banging with this song for weeks now.

Navigation | Masterlist

⧗

“F-fuck please be bad Mommy.” Natasha whined.

“No mommy wants to be bad to their baby…”

⧗

“What do you want Tony?” Natasha chuckled as she saw her best friend on her apartment door at 7 o’clock early in the morning, standing there holding a pizza box. “Really? Pizza? Early this morning?”

Tony rolled his eyes and pushed his way inside, shutting the door behind him. “Well, thank you for the warm welcome,” he teased. “Before I go to my asshole of a father’s place, I want to do one thing. Something purposeful for you, my friend.”

Nat raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “And what would that be?” she asked, as she led him to the living room of her small apartment.

“Let me see your phone,” he said, taking it out of her hands.

“Hey, wait!” the redhead protested, but Tony was already fiddling with it. “What are you doing?!”

“Setting up an account on a dating app,” he replied, typing away.

“Wow. So this is your grand purpose? Setting me up on a dating app? I’m touched.” She said sarcastically. She watched him, a box of pizza on his left hand and her phone on the other, seriously typing whatever it is that is asked to fulfill the account—he is really serious about setting her up on a dating site.

“You gotta be kidding Tony…”

“Nope. Enough robotics Romanoff before you turn into one.”

Nat’s eyes widened as she suddenly realized that she told Tony her plans. And a wave of regret washed over her. She had meticulously scheduled out her entire summer break even though it hasn't started yet, she intended to spend time working on her robotics project every single day of the summer break. But now, with Tony in the picture with her phone in his hands, she could already imagine the chaos that was going to ensue.

The dating preference section came up and Tony immediately, with no hesitations, clicked women. It had been common knowledge among their friends that Nat had a strong liking for girls. He chuckled to himself, thinking about the kind of women the app would likely recommend for her.

“Let’s make things spicy,” he said under his breath as he set the age range for Natasha’s profile.

With a few taps, he set the age preference to 30-50 years old. “You’ll thank me for this, Nat,” he said with a sly grin on his face.

Every time he and Nat would pass some women on the street, Tony would stealthily observe Nat’s reactions. Whether it was a woman walking past them with her kids or a lady jogging in tight-fitting leggings who he was sure was around 35 to 40, the red head is drooling already. Tony had taken note of Natasha's undeniable interest in women—women who are old enough to be her mother.

The last step came, he only needed to pick a photo of Natasha and it's all done and set up, ready to swipe left and right. So he went through her gallery to find photos of her, but her gallery is just full of screenshots about freaking science.

As Tony sifted through Natasha's gallery, his mood grew more impatient and bored.

“Seriously Nat, you’ve got like a million screenshots of scientific articles and memes about space, and when you do actually take a photo, it’s of some historical artifact in a museum. This is like a grandma’s photo album…” He grumbled, scrolling further.

“Okay, that’s enough.” The redhead stood from the sofa but Tony backed away not even looking at her, too busy to smile like an idiot with whatever he saw on her phone.

“Damn, Nat,” he muttered under his breath, a smirk forming on his face. “I had no idea you were hiding this much muscle under those baggy clothes.” He came across a couple of mirror shots that Natasha had taken in the gym. In these photos, she was wearing a tight-fitting black tank top and some baggy shorts, showing off her muscular arms and strong physique.

Tony chuckled, his eyes still glued to the photos of Natasha’s flexing arms. “Yeah, definitely milfs will absolutely love these shots.”

Nat couldn't help but blush, both at the compliment and at the mention of milfs. “You really think so?” she asked, a hint of shyness in her voice.

“Oh yeah, they would swipe right in a heartbeat,” he said, chuckling. “These are juicy…”

“Okay, you sounded perverted. Gimme that…” Natasha was finally able to get her phone back and Tony raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I was just trying to get some good pictures of you in there. You gotta give the ladies something to look at, you know?”

Tony watched as Natasha went through the app, “You just need to click confirm, and it’s all set up…but it’s still your choice. And…I gotta go, mom’s gonna call me.”

Natasha paused and looked at Tony with relief and confusion. She was grateful for the break in the conversation, but she also didn’t want him to leave just yet. “Okay...go ahead. Can’t keep mommy waiting.” She said jokingly.

“Okay now that sounded perverted coming from you, Romanoff.” Tony pointed a finger at her while walking backwards towards the redhead’s apartment door.

“I’m just kidding,” Natasha let out some giggles as she walked Tony off her apartment, “Don’t kill your father, Tony.”

“I’ll try not to, I can’t believe mom wanted me to spend half of my summer with him. I love her so much that I’ll do anything she asks of me even though it’s spending some time with the man who hurt her.”

“You’ll be fine, just don’t get your hand bloody like last time.”

Tony chuckled and saluted her back, then turned to leave. “I make no promises, Romanoff.” He sighed, Natasha just gently patted Tony’s shoulder and when she was about to close her door, her best friend's foot stopped it from closing.

“Goodluck with the milf hunting.”

⧗

For the next few days, Nat found herself thinking about the dating app and Tony’s playful attempt to set her up. She would secretly open the app every now and then but couldn't bring herself to swipe in any direction. She thinks all these women are deserving to be dated, but she could only pick one of course.

Finally, one night, Natasha couldn't resist the temptation any longer. She sat on her couch to browse through the potential matches. She’d take her frustration out on her pillow, mumbling to herself about how ridiculous this all was. But she continued, her heart raced as she began swiping through the profiles. Her cheeks flushed with a hint of embarrassment as she came across various women who fit her preference—older, attractive milf, thanks to her best friend who knew exactly what her type is.

As she read the bios, she couldn’t help but be intrigued by some of their descriptions. They were confident, successful, and had a certain allure about them that made her even more flustered.

She should've swiped right to have more chances of winning like what Tony advised her, but Natasha continued swiping left through profiles. Yes, she noticed that the women she saw were undeniably beautiful, however, she wanted to see something different, that's why she started swiping left. It wasn't because she found them unattractive, but rather because they didn't quite match the image she had in mind.

She was so intimidated, all these women looks so powerful—like how women should be. So far she'd seen woman who's a pilot, CEO, business owners and many jobs that she for sure puts a lot of zeros on their bank accounts. Not that she didn't want that and she's definitely not opposed to the idea of being a sugar baby, but...she wanted someone who's simple, domestic yet can lead her.

Each profile she scrolled through brought a mix of excitement and anxiety, yet curiosity pushed her to keep searching for that one woman who would make her heart skip a beat.

“Y/N, 39 years old, mother of two, loves gardening, sketching…” she read to herself, trying not to blush as she looked at your photo. Most women she had seen in this app either had a picture with the Eiffel tower or a selfie inside the high premium car—no offense, she loved everything old women do but you, you had a picture of yourself in a beautiful garden she thought was in your place, surrounded by lush greenery. Your genuine smile and a sparkle in her eyes stood out to Natasha.

“Just 4 hours drive away from here…”

Natasha's heart raced as she nervously swiped right on your profile, her hand trembling a little. The moment she did it, she immediately slammed her phone shut and threw herself onto her bed, her heart pounding in her chest.

The thought of you potentially seeing her profile and possibly matching with her made her stomach flutter. The redhead buried her face into her pillow, unable to wipe the redness of her face.

She stood and immediately put on her glasses to distract herself from the constant nervous feeling of seeing a notification from the app, Natasha threw herself into various activities to keep her mind occupied. She deep cleaned her apartment, organized her cluttered drawers, and even got started on her robotics project.

Days passed, but there still wasn't any notification from the dating app. And Natasha actually forgot about it, the robotics project she's working on consuming and occupying every time she had for the day.

Natasha was deep in thought, working on her project, when the sudden notification sound from her phone jolted her from her focus. Startled, she picked up her phone, expecting it to be an email from the agency she applied for an internship or her sister asking for some 5$ on cash app.

However, when she looked at the screen, her heart almost jumped out of her ribs when she saw the dating app icon. She shakingly and immediately opened it.

You: Hi dear

Natasha found herself biting her lower lip, wrestling with her thoughts. She’d faced down debaters, cracked numerous codes, and aced countless exams and quizzes. But responding to a simple “hi” from an older woman had her completely flustered. It was a ridiculous feeling, but she couldn't deny the butterflies in her stomach at the thought of conversing with you.

She typed and deleted various responses, unsure of what to say, until finally, she decided on something simple yet respectful at least.

Natasha: Good evening, how are you?

You: I’m good, just finished cooking some dinner. You?

Natasha: I haven't eaten anything yet, I was working for a project.

You: That's not good for your health and for those massive muscles of yours.

Natasha felt her cheeks grow warm as she read your reply about her muscles. Tony was indeed right when he said milfs will definitely like those. She hadn't expected you to notice that detail, but reading it brought a smile to her face.

Natasha: Massive muscles? I think you're exaggerating a bit.

She typed, trying to downplay your compliment, yet secretly loving the attention.

You: Exaggerating? Not one bit, love. Your biceps are godly💪🔥

You responded, clearly amused by her attempt to deny your compliment.

Natasha felt her heart rate increase at your playful banter and the cute emojis you used. She couldn't help but feel the pain of her cheeks from smiling with your attention and the nicknames you’re calling her.

Nat: Thanks :)))

You: So…where exactly do you live in Brooklyn?

⧗

“Y-you should... probably stop that…” she whispers, her voice barely audible. “I-I'm not... I'm not good at…”

You slowly start to grind your hips against Natasha, feeling her body tense up beneath you. Her eyes dilate, and she licks her lips nervously.

Despite her protests, you continue to grind against her, feeling her hips instinctively buck up to meet yours. Natasha’s face turns a deep shade of red, and she lets out a soft whimper as she feels herself getting hard beneath you. “P-please... stop…”

And you did, you pause, lifting your hips away from her but you were still straddling her—kneeling straightly where your tits were right in front of her. Natasha whines softly at the loss of the friction, her hips bucking forward as if seeking more. You smirk mischievously, leaning in close to her ear. “I’m stopping because my baby told me to. Mommy has to listen to what her baby says, mommy doesn’t wanna be bad.”

“F-fuck please be bad Mommy.” Natasha whined.

“No mommy wants to be bad to their baby…”

Natasha lets out a frustrated whine again, her hips bucking forward again as she chases the friction she was just denied. “B-but... Mommy... it feels so good…you’re so good…” she whimpers, her eyes filled with need and puppy-dog sadness. “Please... just a little more…”

You slowly unbutton your top, revealing your bra. Natasha’s eyes flick down to your chest, watching intently as you unhook the bra and let it fall to the floor. Your bare breasts come into view, you guide Natasha’s face to your chest, gently cupping the back of her head. Her mouth parts slightly, and you can feel her warm breath on your tits. “Be good and suck Mommy’s tits,” you whisper, your voice laced with desire.

Natasha like a good baby she is, eagerly obeys, pressing soft kisses to your breasts. She kisses and licks, her touch gentle and reverent. You can hear her breathing grow heavier, feel her body tensing as she gets more aroused.

“That's it, baby. Be so good for Mommy…”

Her mouth finds your nipples, and she begins to suck and lick enthusiastically. She moans against your skin, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. You can feel her hands gripping your waist tightly, her nails digging in slightly.

She continues to suck and lick your peaks, her cold glasses press against your warmth against the skin of your breasts, the temperature difference sending goosebumps across your flesh. You moan softly, your fingers tangling in her hair to keep her head in place as she paid attention to both of your tits.

After several minutes of shared attention on your tits, you guide Natasha's face back up to yours. You lean down and press a soft, passionate kiss to her lips finally settling back down to her lap feeling her hard once again.

Your hands gently stroking Natasha’s braided hair. You reach out and slowly move your hands towards her shorts, immediately feeling her hard cock through her boxers. Her eyes widened as he realized what you're doing. You then pulled out his cock spring free.

“Guess who’s being bad, hm?”

“Please…p-please mommy.”

You carefully shifted to position yourself on Natasha’s pointing cock. You guide her hands to your hips as you slowly lower yourself onto her. You can see the shock and pleasure on her face as you envelope her with your warm walls. “Y/N…” she stammers.

“That’s not my name baby.”

“Mommy, please!”

You bit your lower lip and began to move, taking her in and out of your warmth, Natasha’s head lolls back, her mouth opening in a silent 'O' of pleasure. Her hands on your hips tighten, her fingers digging in slightly. “It's...it's so tight, Mommy…you’re so…”

“Mhm, yeah?” You pant condescendingly, “Mommy’s what baby?”

“So good! So tight!” She cries.

“Oh yeah?”

You lean down, your breath hot against her ear. “That's because Mommy’s special hole is made just for my special baby. Only for you…” You punctuate each phrase with a slow thrust, taking her deeper.

Natasha’s breathing grows faster, her chest rising and falling rapidly against yours. Her hips buck upwards to meet your slow, languid movements. “Mommy...it...it feels…so good…” she moans softly, her voice barely a whisper. “I... I think I'm... I'm…”

“Are you good?” You asked, but the redhead didn't answer, her eyes shut closed behind her fogged glasses and was too focused on her pleasure and you loved it.

“Are you good, Natasha?” Now you calling her on her first name caught her attention.

“Y-yes…”

Your hands gripped her shoulders as you continued to ride her. “Then hold it, baby. If you're good you’re going to hold it until Mommy says you can come…” You increase the pace slightly, your own pleasure building as you feel him throb inside you. “That's it... just hold on…”

Her face scrunches up in concentration, her hands bruising your waist. “M-Mommy... it's...it's too much...I can't... I can't hold it…” she whines pitifully, his voice filled with need and desperation. “Please…”

“No, baby. You hold it. You can do it. Mommy knows you're strong…” You lean back further, grinding down onto her, your abdominal muscles flexing, “and you’re good, you can do it baby.”

Natasha lets out a high-pitched whine, her body trembling as she tries her best to obey. “I-I'm trying...Mommy...I'm trying to be good…” her body stiffens, her back arching slightly as she struggles to hold back.

You lean in close, your voice dropping to a low, soothing tone. “That's my baby... You're doing so well... just a little longer…”

Her face flushed with heat, her pupils dilating as she watched you with an agape mouth, riding her. Suddenly, her expression turns defiant.

“Fuck...maybe I wanna be bad,” she grips your hips tightly and begins to thrust up into you, ignoring your command. “Fuck, mommy I wanna be bad.”

You’re taken aback by her sudden defiance, your eyes widening in surprise. “Natasha... baby, no...oh! ” Your voice trails off as she continues to thrust into you deliciously.

“Shit baby, fuck you’re so strong!”

So now, it's you who's trying to hold back, but Natasha’s sudden burst of strength is overwhelming. She's too powerful, too determined. Her thrusts become brutal, pounding into you with relentless intensity. You're trapped, pinned on top of her dominant form, unable to escape the force of her desires.

“Natty…baby stop…”

“I can't stop, Mommy…” she moans, her body tensing as she reaches her limit. “I... I'm gonna...I'm gonna come...I'm gonna come inside you…” she throws her head towards your shoulder, her movements become erratic, her hips bucking wildly as she empties himself into you. You're left shocked, gasping, trapped on top of her as she finds her release.

“Turn around...get on your hands and knees…”

“Wha—”

Your shocked expression quickly turns into one of pleasure as Natasha’s dominant commands wash over you. You scramble to obey, turning around and dropping to your hands and knees. Natasha stands up, her hands gripping your hips as she holds you in place. “Good...my good girl... Now stay like that…”

As Natasha starts to move behind you, you feel a surge of emotion. Shock, awe, and a touch of humiliation mix together. You never imagined that she would take control like this, especially after she’d seem like the one to submit. Now, the roles are reversed, and you’re the one being taken.

Natasha's grip tightens around your hips as he begins to thrust into you from behind. The angle is different, deeper, and you can't help but let out a moan. “You like that, hm, Mommy?” she growls.

“You like being on the other end, don't you?” she thrusts deep, her hips slapping against your ass. “Answer me…” her hand reaches around, finding your most intimate spot. “Answer me or I'll stop…” she teases you mercilessly.

“Yesyesyes!”

Natasha suddenly pulls out, lifting you up and carrying you to the edge of the bed. She sits down, easily manhandling you over her lap. Your back rests against her chest as her hands held your thighs, keeping your legs wide open as she slides her cock back into your wetness.

She spreads your thighs wider, her knees pushing yours apart as she continues to pound into you. Her touch is unyielding, her rhythm punishing.

“Hold your thigh…” she took your hand and put it to keep your thigh up. “Hold...hold the other...hold both…” she commands, her breath hot against your neck. You comply, your hands gripping your thighs tightly as her strong hand comes down to string your throbbing clit.

“Oh God...Oh God, Natasha...Please... I can't...I can't take it anymore…” Your cries fill the room, your tits bouncing as she pounded inside you.

You threw your head back against Natasha's shoulder, exhausted from your struggles. She reaches up, her hand cupping your jaw and turning your head. Her mouth descends on yours, swallowing your moans. Her tongue slips past your lips, dueling with yours as she continues to pound into you.

You try to wiggle away from her relentless touch, but a strong hand wraps around one of your thighs, pulling you back. “Oh, no you don't…” Natasha's voice breathed in your ear, her hold was strong to keep your legs apart.

Her fingers never stop their relentless strumming on your clit and her cock pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Come for me, mama…” she whispers in your ear, her voice dark and commanding. “Squirt all over my cock…”

Her words send you over the edge. With a loud cry, you laid your head on her shoulder, your body convulsing as you came undone. You squirt all over her, your juices gushing out as she continues to thrust into you.

“That's it…” Natasha's own release hits her hard. With a final, brutal thrust, she buries herself deep inside you, her body shuddering as she comes. Her hot seed fills you up, spilling out around her still-pulsating cock. You can feel her hot cum mixing with your own fluids, the combined liquid slowly leaking out of you. You can't help but moan at the sensation, your body continuing to spasm when her cock bumped accidentally in your clit.

“You’re so good for me, mama.”

⧗

You wake up to the sound of birds chirping outside. Blinking your eyes open, you find yourself alone in Natasha’s bed. You stretch, wincing slightly at the soreness between your thighs. A quick glance around the room reveals no sign of the girl.

You sit up, rubbing your temples as a wave of guilt and self-disgust washes over you. Post nut clarity hits hard.

“How could I have been so stupid?” You chide yourself, your voice barely a whisper. “I drove four hours just to...to sleep with a stranger on a dating app.”

“Am I really that desperate for a good fuck?” you whisper harshly to yourself.

Panicked, you start searching for your clothes, but they're nowhere to be found. “Where are my clothes?” You mutter, your heart pounding in your chest. Your gaze falls on a large, plain shirt draped over a chair. You grab the shirt, smiling as you read what was printed on it

“The physics is theoretical but the fun is real.”

You quickly slip it on, the fabric swallowing you whole. It reaches down to your mid-thighs, the hem fluttering around your bare legs. You realize with a blush that you're not wearing anything else—just the shirt and your damp underwear.

You decide to take in the surroundings of the woman you slept with last night, it wouldn't be bad wouldn't it? The first thing you notice is how clean and organized Natasha's room is. The walls are adorned with intricate diagrams of solar systems, planets, and stars, each one meticulously labeled and colored. You spot a few custom-made lamps on the desk and shelves, their shapes resembling various celestial bodies that you thought she made herself.

The lamps cast a soft, warm light over the room, their glow mimicking that of distant stars. You see a bookshelf crammed with books on astronomy, physics, and electronics. A large whiteboard takes up one wall, covered in complex mathematical equations and diagrams.

Your gaze drifts downward, landing on a piece of paper on the floor. So you bend down to pick up the paper, smoothing it out on the table as you sit down. At first glance, it appears to be an application of some sort. Your eyes scan the page, taking in the details of information you see.

“Natasha...Alianovna Romanoff,” you smiled as her name tumbled out of your lips. “Beautiful name to moan to...”

“December 3,” you frowned, tilting your head slowly as you read the detail, “2002…” you felt your heart dropped to your stomach.

“22 years old?”

A sound of footsteps and a humming echo from outside the room made you alarmed. Panicked, you gripped the paper and rush towards the door, slipping out just as it creaks open. And there you saw Natasha who was cooking some breakfast.

She looks up as you exited her room, her eyes widening briefly as she takes in your appearance. Your hair was a mess and you're wearing her clothes—her favorite one, the oversized t-shirt clings to the curves of your breasts, revealing the outline of your hardened nipples. The hem barely reaches mid-thigh, revealing your bare legs—and your nude colored panties she herself took off last night.

You march towards her, barefoot, brandishing the application paper like a sword.

“You're 22?!”

“Wha—”

“Your bio says you're 28!”

“Wha—I-I didn't kno—”

“That's bullshit!”

“And I was like...God! I slept with someone who's the same age as my sons.” You mimic the same line you said as you recall the events of what happened weeks ago, sharing every detail with Thena, your best friend. She was in fact, the one who told you to try going on a dating app.

“At least you had a good fuck,” Your eyes widened with Thena's vulgar words but you hesitate for a moment before nodding, your face burning with embarrassment. Because, well, it's true...

“Yeah...it was…” You trail off, unable to meet her gaze.

“Good? Good?” Thena asks pulling the words out of you as she noticed you being hesitant.

“She was so gentle at first, almost shy...let me lead her but once she got going...whew!” You whistled softly, fanning yourself as you laughed.

“And you ghosted her…” You pause mid-laugh at your best friend's reply, you felt like she just slapped the reality across your face.

“I...” you raised your brows, palming your chest as you looked at her, “I didn't, okay, I just left. What would you expect me to do? She lied.” You defend, leaning down to your chair as you glance at your best friend who was eyeing you like she knows all your secrets. And she does though, but not this one.

“She's young, Thena,” you reason, “She'll move on. She'll meet someone new.” You dismiss the idea of Natasha being hurt by your not so sudden disappearance with a wave of your hand. “It's not like we had any emotional attachment or anything. Hell, maybe I am the third girl she had in her apartment that week. Who knows?” You chuckled humorlessly. You really wished you weren't.

“Hm, just fucking.”

“Exactly, just fucking,” you say, mirroring Thena's crude language. “We both needed that at the moment.” You nod confidently, convinced that's all it was—a simple physical need fulfilled, nothing more. But as you continue to talk, a small, secret part of you whispers that it was more than just a physical need. You felt a connection, a spark, something that went beyond the surface level. But you quickly silence that voice, deciding to keep your true feelings buried deep inside because there is no chance on getting back, you had deleted the app so there is no more way to contact her. But going to her place is a different conversation and there is no way in hell you're going to do that.

Sighing heavily, you rub your temples, trying to ward off the sudden headache that's formed.

“Besides, what would my sons think if they knew I was dating someone their age?” you muse aloud, looking at Thena with concern and embarrassment. “They'd probably be disgusted, Thee…I swear…”

“At least you're not robbing the cradle or y'know. It's not like she's underage or anything.”

“Okay, enough, stop justifying her age. She still lied, which I didn't like. I wouldn’t date someone who's the same age as my son and someone who’s younger, period.” You said with a finality making your best friend laugh at your now serious face, she’s really not used to you being like that.

“Gosh, they wouldn't even let me date anyone,” you sighed, slumping back in your chair dramatically, making Thena laugh even harder.

“You’ve got some overprotective babies there.” Thena chuckles between giggles.

You can't help but agree with your best friend, nodding your head in agreement. “Yeah, they are pretty overprotective. I swear, sometimes I think they forget I'm an adult too.” You smiled, remembering that your two sweet boys are coming home today for summer break.

⧗

You are excited and all jumpy thinking that every sound you hear is a knock on a door.

You started preparing for their visit, tidying up your home and making sure everything was just right and in place, especially with their bedrooms. The clock ticked by, and soon enough, finally, you heard a real knock towards the door.

With a quick glance in the mirror to make sure you looked presentable, you went to the door to open it. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves, and then swung the door open.

There they both stood, a cocky smile on their face as they greeted you with a casual “Hey, Mom.”

“Hello my babies.” You almost cried on the spot seeing your grown sons.

“Whatchu cookin’ mama?” your eldest, Mark asked, kissing your forehead before entering the house.

“Your favorite beefy creamy mushroom, baby!” You shout.

“I love you so much, ‘ma!”

Before you could even reply, an arm wrapped around you in a tight embrace, and before you knew it, you were being lifted off the ground, your feet dangling in the air. You squirmed playfully, laughing as you tried to put your weight back down.

“Put me down, you little devil!” You scolded lightheartedly, playfully pushing against your son’s broad shoulders, though secretly enjoying the sweet gesture of your youngest.

As he finally set you down gently, a wide grin still plastered on his face, he let out a sigh and looked at you affectionately.

“I missed you so much, mom.”

“I missed you too, Tony.” You cupped his cheek and pestered him with so many kisses making him giggle.

“I...uhh mama, I hope you wouldn’t mind, I am sorry for telling this to you right now. But I brought a friend over, if that’s fine?” you placed your hands on his shoulders, as he looked at you with his usual puppy-dog eyes, “I owe her big time, I was the reason she’s heartbroken and why her favorite shirt is stolen.”

“Yeah, yeah...” you nodded encouragingly to assure him that it's okay to have some friend over, and the mention of a stolen shirt made you laugh—it was silly you thought.

“Yeah, sure baby…you ca—” you trailed off, your world stopping as you saw the friend your son brought over, standing just few steps behind him.

The friend your son brought over was none other than the person who haunted your dreams every night, the same woman you shared a night with many weeks ago that gave you the most earth-shattering orgasm that not even their father could give.

And you found her looking back at you, her gaze trailing down the shirt you’re wearing that was in fact hers.

“Mom, this is Natasha.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff au #natasha romanoff fanfic #black widow x reader

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bratzkoo · 1 month ago

Text

diet pepsi | seungcheol

Author: bratzkoo | beta read by: @spnyin Pairing: F1 driver! seungcheol x model ! reader Genre: fluff, smut Rating: NC-17 Word count: 8.7k Warnings/note: inspired by addison rae's diet pepsi. who here is a slut for seungcheol? 🙌 CAUSE I AM. sexual content. car sex, public sex, kitchen sex, just... they're horny. minors please for the love of God, I have a lot of sfw fics... read those not this.

summary: seungcheol just wants every excuse to have sex with his girlfriend, let him be.

taglist (hit me up if you wanna be added): @escoupseu , @yanabaaaaaaarysheva , @spnyin , @sousydive , @gyuguys

requests are open, but you can just say hi! | masterlist

The screech of tires against asphalt filled the air as Seungcheol Choi crossed the finish line, clinching yet another pole position. The crowd's roar was deafening, but inside his helmet, Seungcheol heard only the pounding of his own heart and the steady rhythm of his breath. As he pulled into the pit lane, a sea of red-clad mechanics swarmed his car, their excitement palpable.

Climbing out of the cockpit, Seungcheol removed his helmet, revealing a shock of tousled dark hair and a face flushed with exertion and triumph. Cameras flashed from every direction, capturing the moment for millions of fans worldwide. Seungcheol's eyes, however, scanned the crowd for one face in particular.

There she was. Y/N stood at the edge of the paddock, her platinum blonde hair catching the sunlight, emerald eyes locked on him. To the world, she was just another beautiful face in the crowd, perhaps a fan or a pampered guest. But Seungcheol knew better. The slight quirk of her lips, the intensity of her gaze – these were for him alone.

As he made his way through the throng of reporters and well-wishers, Seungcheol maintained his media-trained smile, answering questions with practiced ease. "Yes, the car felt great out there. The team has done an amazing job." "No, I'm not thinking about the championship yet. We're taking it one race at a time." All the while, he was hyper-aware of Y/N's presence, like a magnetic pull on his senses.

Finally breaking free from the press, Seungcheol headed towards his private trailer. As he passed Y/N, their eyes met for a brief, electric moment. No words were exchanged, but the message was clear: Meet me later.

Inside the trailer, Seungcheol peeled off his racing suit, the cool air a relief against his skin. As he stepped into the shower, letting the water wash away the sweat and tension of the race, his mind wandered to Y/N. A year together, and still, every moment felt as thrilling as the first.

He remembered their first meeting, at a charity gala nearly fourteen months ago. Y/N had been the face of the event, her billboard-sized image greeting guests as they arrived. In person, she had been even more stunning – all graceful curves and sharp wit. Seungcheol, usually so confident on the track, had fumbled his words like a teenager.

A smile played on his lips as he recalled how Y/N had teased him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "I hope you drive better than you flirt," she had quipped, before slipping him her number on a cocktail napkin.

Their relationship had ignited quickly, burning hot and bright. But with their rising stars came increasing scrutiny, and they had made the difficult decision to keep their love under wraps. For a year now, they had been living a double life – stealing moments whenever they could, always looking over their shoulders.

Seungcheol stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. His phone buzzed with a message from Y/N: "Usual spot. One hour."

An hour later, Seungcheol guided his sleek black sports car up the winding road to their favorite overlook. The city sprawled below, a glittering carpet of lights in the gathering dusk. Y/N's car was already there, and as he pulled up beside it, she stepped out, taking his breath away.

Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, contrasting beautifully with the deep green dress that hugged her curves. As she walked towards him, Seungcheol was struck anew by her grace, the way she moved like liquid silk.

"Congratulations, hot shot," Y/N purred as she slid into the passenger seat of Seungcheol's car. "You were incredible out there today."

Seungcheol's hand found hers, their fingers intertwining over the gear shift. "Having you there makes me want to push even harder," he admitted, bringing her hand to his lips for a soft kiss.

Y/N's other hand came up to caress his cheek, her touch igniting sparks under his skin. "Seeing you race... it does things to me," she murmured, her voice low and husky.

Their lips met in a searing kiss, a year's worth of pent-up passion and stolen moments pouring out. Y/N's fingers threaded through Seungcheol's hair, still damp from his shower, as his hands roamed her back, pulling her closer.

With practiced ease, Y/N maneuvered herself onto Seungcheol's lap, the gear shift digging into her thigh. Neither of them cared. All that mattered was the heat between them, the taste of victory on Seungcheol's lips, the soft sighs escaping Y/N's throat.

Seungcheol's lips traveled down Y/N's neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. "God, I've missed you," he breathed against her skin. "These past weeks, barely seeing each other..."

Y/N arched into him, her body responding to his every touch. "I know," she gasped as his hands slipped under her dress. "But we're here now."

They moved together with the familiarity of long-time lovers, yet each touch still sent electricity coursing through their bodies. The windows of the car slowly fogged up, creating a cocoon that shut out the world beyond.

Afterward, they sat entwined, Y/N's head resting on Seungcheol's chest, listening to his heartbeat slow to its normal rhythm. The city lights twinkled below them, a reminder of the world they'd have to return to soon.

"I have news," Y/N said softly, tracing patterns on Seungcheol's arm. "That luxury car brand I've been in talks with? They want to do a joint campaign. With an F1 driver."

Seungcheol tensed slightly beneath her. "Let me guess. They want me?"

Y/N nodded, sitting up to look into his eyes. "It could be huge for both of us. But..."

"But it would mean going public," Seungcheol finished for her. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's been a year, Y/N. Maybe it's time."

Y/N searched Seungcheol's face, her brow furrowed with concern. "Are you sure? Your sponsors, my agency... they've all been so insistent about projecting the right image."

Seungcheol cupped Y/N's face in his hands, his thumbs gently stroking her cheeks. "The right image is us, together. I'm tired of hiding how I feel about you.”

Y/N's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Seungcheol's lips.

As they drove back to the city, hands intertwined over the gear shift, both Seungcheol and Y/N knew they were accelerating towards a new chapter in their lives. The race to balance their love, careers, and the impending spotlight was on, and neither of them was prepared for the twists and turns that lay ahead.

The next morning found Seungcheol in a strategy meeting with his team. As his race engineer droned on about tire degradation and fuel management, Seungcheol's mind wandered to Y/N. He wondered what she was doing, if she was thinking of him too.

His reverie was interrupted by his team principal, Jeonghan, clearing his throat pointedly. "Seungcheol? Did you hear what I said?"

Seungcheol blinked, forcing himself to focus. "Sorry, Jeonghan. Could you repeat that?"

Jeonghan's eyes narrowed slightly, but he continued, "I said, we've been approached by Luxe Motors for a potential sponsorship deal. They want to do a campaign featuring you and some model." He waved his hand dismissively. "Could be good exposure, but we need to make sure it doesn't interfere with your training schedule."

Seungcheol's heart raced. This was it – the campaign Y/N had mentioned. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to say. "Actually, Jeonghan, there's something I need to tell you all."

The room fell silent, all eyes turning to Seungcheol. He could feel the weight of their expectations, the pressure of the carefully crafted image they had built around him. But as he thought of Y/N, of the love they shared, he knew it was time.

"The model they want for the campaign... her name is Y/N. And we've been in a relationship for the past year."

The silence that followed was deafening. Jeonghan's face turned an alarming shade of red, while his PR manager, Ela, looked like she might faint. It was his mechanic, Dino, who broke the tension with a low whistle.

"Damn, boss. You've been holding out on us!"

What followed was a whirlwind of questions, accusations, and hurried strategizing. By the time Seungcheol left the meeting, his head was spinning. He needed to see Y/N, to hold her, to reassure himself that they were making the right decision.

He found her at their favorite café, tucked away in a corner booth. As soon as she saw him, Y/N's face lit up, then quickly fell as she registered his expression.

"What happened?" she asked as he slid into the seat across from her.

Seungcheol reached for her hand, needing the anchor of her touch. "I told them," he said simply. "About us, about the campaign... everything."

Y/N's eyes widened. "How did they take it?"

"About as well as we expected," Seungcheol sighed. "Jeonghan's worried about the sponsors, Ela's already drafting press releases... it's chaos."

Y/N squeezed his hand. "My agent wasn't much better. He thinks it could either make or break my career."

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their decision settling over them. Then, almost simultaneously, they began to laugh. It started as a chuckle, then grew until they were both shaking with mirth, drawing curious glances from other patrons.

"God, we're a mess, aren't we?" Y/N gasped between giggles.

Seungcheol grinned, feeling lighter than he had in months. "Yeah, but we're a mess together."

As their laughter subsided, Seungcheol was struck by how beautiful Y/N looked, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright with mirth. Without thinking, he leaned across the table and kissed her, right there in the middle of the café.

Y/N froze for a moment, then melted into the kiss. When they parted, she looked around, a mix of exhilaration and nervousness on her face. "Seungcheol! Someone could have seen..."

"Let them see," he said, surprising himself with his boldness. "I'm done hiding, Y/N. I love you, and I want the whole world to know it."

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes. "I love you too," she whispered.

They left the café hand in hand, no longer caring who might see them. As they walked through the city streets, Seungcheol felt a sense of freedom he hadn't experienced in years. He pulled Y/N close, kissing her temple.

"Come on," he said, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I have an idea."

Twenty minutes later, they were back in Seungcheol's car, this time parked in the private garage of his apartment building. The space was dimly lit, the concrete walls amplifying every small sound.

"Seungcheol," Y/N breathed as he trailed kisses down her neck. "Are you sure about this? Anyone could walk in..."

He pulled back, looking into her eyes. "Do you want me to stop?"

Y/N bit her lip, desire warring with caution in her expression. Then, with a small shake of her head, she pulled him back to her. "No," she whispered against his lips. "Don't you dare stop."

Their kisses grew more heated, hands roaming with increasing urgency. Y/N's shirt found its way to the floor, followed quickly by Seungcheol's. The leather seats creaked as they moved together, the car rocking slightly with their movements.

Every sound seemed amplified in the quiet garage – their ragged breathing, the soft moans that escaped Y/N's lips as Seungcheol's hands explored her body, the rustle of clothing being hastily removed.

When they finally came together, it was with a passion born of their newfound freedom. Gone was the need for silence, for restraint. Y/N cried out Seungcheol's name, her nails raking down his back. Seungcheol groaned, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

They moved together, lost in the sensation, the thrill of potentially being caught only adding to their excitement. The world outside ceased to exist – there was only this moment, only them.

As they reached their peak together, Y/N's back arched, her head thrown back in ecstasy. Seungcheol held her close, his entire body shuddering with the intensity of his release.

They stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped in each other's arms, their breathing slowly returning to normal. Seungcheol pressed soft kisses to Y/N's shoulder, her neck, her cheek.

"I love you," he murmured against her skin. "Whatever happens next, I love you forever."

Y/N smiled, running her fingers through his hair. "I love you forever," she replied.

As they dressed and made their way up to Seungcheol's apartment, both of them knew that tomorrow would bring new challenges. There would be press conferences to face, contracts to negotiate, a gauntlet of public opinion to run.

But for now, as they curled up together on Seungcheol's couch, they were content. They had each other, and they were finally free to show the world their love. Whatever storms lay ahead, they would weather them side by side.

Seungcheol pulled Y/N closer, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. As sleep began to claim them both, he couldn't help but smile.

The harsh glare of camera flashes assaulted Seungcheol's eyes as he stepped out of his car, his hand firmly clasped around Y/N's. The clamor of reporters shouting questions created a cacophony that threatened to overwhelm them both.

"Seungcheol! How long have you been dating?"

"Y/N! Will this affect your upcoming campaigns?"

"Is this a publicity stunt for Luxe Motors?"

Seungcheol felt Y/N's hand tighten around his, and he gave her a reassuring squeeze. They had prepared for this moment, spent hours with their respective PR teams crafting responses and practicing their delivery. But nothing could have truly prepared them for the reality of facing the media storm head-on.

With a deep breath, Seungcheol raised his free hand, and the crowd quieted marginally. "Thank you all for coming," he began, his voice steady despite the nerves roiling in his stomach. "Y/N and I have decided to make our relationship public because we believe in honesty and transparency, both with our fans and with each other."

Y/N stepped forward, her emerald eyes sparkling with determination. "We've been together for a year," she added, her voice clear and confident. "We kept our relationship private initially to focus on our careers, but we now feel ready to share this part of our lives with you all."

As they fielded questions, Seungcheol marveled at Y/N's poise. She handled even the most probing inquiries with grace, her responses thoughtful and measured. When a particularly aggressive reporter asked if she was using Seungcheol for publicity, Y/N's eyes flashed dangerously.

"I've worked hard to build my career on my own merits," she said, her tone icy. "My relationship with Seungcheol is personal, not professional. We support each other's dreams, but we do not define ourselves by each other's success."

Seungcheol felt a surge of pride and love for her in that moment. As the press conference wound down, he couldn't resist pulling her close and placing a soft kiss on her temple, eliciting a fresh round of camera flashes.

Later, as they collapsed onto the couch in Seungcheol's apartment, the adrenaline of the day finally wearing off, Y/N let out a long sigh. "Well, that was intense," she said, kicking off her heels.

Seungcheol pulled her into his arms, breathing in the comforting scent of her perfume. "You were amazing out there," he murmured into her hair. "I'm so proud of you."

Y/N tilted her head up, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Oh yeah? How proud?"

Seungcheol grinned, recognizing the invitation in her tone. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. Y/N responded eagerly, her hands sliding under his shirt, tracing the contours of his abs.

As things heated up, Seungcheol suddenly pulled back, a playful smirk on his face. "You know," he said, his voice husky, "now that we're public, we don't have to hide anymore. How about we give the paparazzi something to really talk about?"

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What did you have in mind?"

Seungcheol stood, pulling Y/N up with him. "Trust me," he said, leading her towards the balcony of his penthouse apartment.

The night air was cool on their skin as they stepped outside. The city sprawled before them, a tapestry of lights and shadows. Seungcheol pulled Y/N close, his hands settling on her hips.

"Seungcheol," Y/N gasped, a mix of excitement and nervousness in her voice. "Someone could see us out here."

He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. "Let them see," he whispered. "I want the whole world to know how much I love you."

Their lips met in a searing kiss, hands roaming with newfound freedom. Seungcheol lifted Y/N onto the wide balustrade, her legs wrapping around his waist. The thrill of potentially being seen only added to their passion.

Y/N's fingers tangled in Seungcheol's hair, tugging gently in the way she knew drove him wild. He groaned into her mouth, his hands sliding under her blouse to caress the soft skin of her back. With deft movements, he unhooked her bra, breaking their kiss to trail his lips down her neck.

"Wait," Y/N panted, pushing him back slightly. Seungcheol froze, concern flooding his features.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, searching her face.

Y/N smiled, touching his cheek tenderly. "Everything's perfect. I just... I want to savor this moment."

She slid off the balustrade, taking Seungcheol's hand and leading him to the plush outdoor sofa. With deliberate slowness, she began to undress him, her eyes never leaving his. Seungcheol watched her, mesmerized by the play of emotions across her face – love, desire, and a vulnerability she rarely showed the world.

As she pushed his shirt off his shoulders, her fingers traced the scar on his collarbone, a remnant from a long-ago racing accident. "I was so scared when this happened," she murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the mark. "I realized then how much you meant to me."

Seungcheol's heart swelled with emotion. He cupped Y/N's face in his hands, pouring all his love into a tender kiss. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me," he whispered against her lips. "Better than any pole position, any victory."

Y/N's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. She pushed him gently onto the sofa, straddling his lap. As she sank down onto him, they both gasped at the sensation. They moved together slowly, savoring every touch, every sensation.

The city lights twinkled below them, but neither Seungcheol nor Y/N noticed. Their world had narrowed to just this moment, just the two of them. Y/N's head fell back, exposing the elegant line of her throat, and Seungcheol couldn't resist leaning in to place open-mouthed kisses along her neck.

"I love you," Y/N breathed, her voice thick with emotion. "I love you so much."

Seungcheol's arms tightened around her, pulling her impossibly closer. "I love you too," he murmured against her skin. "More than I ever thought possible."

As their passion built, their movements became more urgent. Y/N's nails raked down Seungcheol's back, leaving marks that would linger for days. Seungcheol's hands gripped Y/N's hips, guiding her movements.

When they reached their peak, it was with a shared cry of ecstasy that echoed into the night. They clung to each other, trembling with the intensity of their release.

Afterward, they lay tangled together on the plush outdoor sofa, a blanket draped haphazardly over them. Y/N traced lazy patterns on Seungcheol's chest, her head tucked under his chin.

"Do you think anyone saw us?" she asked, a hint of worry creeping into her voice.

Seungcheol chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "If they did, I hope they enjoyed the show."

Y/N swatted his chest playfully, but she couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. "You're terrible," she said, but her tone was full of affection.

As they basked in the afterglow, Seungcheol's phone buzzed insistently. With a groan, he reached for it, squinting at the bright screen.

"It's Jeonghan," he said, sitting up. "He wants us at the Luxe Motors headquarters first thing tomorrow morning. Apparently, they're thrilled with the publicity we're generating and want to fast-track the campaign."

Y/N nodded, her expression turning serious. "My agent called earlier. He said the response has been mostly positive, but there are some... less savory rumors starting to circulate."

Seungcheol frowned, pulling Y/N closer. "What kind of rumors?"

She sighed, burying her face in his chest. "The usual trash. That I'm a gold digger, that you're my ticket to the big leagues. Some are even saying this is all a publicity stunt for both our careers."

Anger flared in Seungcheol's chest. "We'll shut them down," he said firmly. "We'll show them how real this is."

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "Promise me we won't let this change us," she whispered. "Promise me that no matter what happens, it'll always be you and me against the world."

Seungcheol cupped her face in his hands, pouring all his love and conviction into his gaze. "I promise," he said solemnly. "You and me, always."

The sleek, modern headquarters of Luxe Motors loomed before Seungcheol and Y/N as they stepped out of their car. Paparazzi immediately swarmed, cameras flashing incessantly. Seungcheol instinctively moved closer to Y/N, his hand resting protectively on the small of her back as they navigated through the crowd.

"Mr. Choi! Ms. Y/N! Over here!"

"How will this relationship affect your careers?"

"Y/N, are you worried about being overshadowed by Seungcheol's fame?"

Y/N tensed at the last question, but maintained her composure, offering a polite smile to the reporters as Seungcheol guided her into the building.

Once inside, Y/N let out a shaky breath. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that," she admitted, smoothing down her designer dress.

Seungcheol squeezed her hand reassuringly. "You're doing great. Remember, we're in this together."

A tall, impeccably dressed woman approached them, her stilettos clicking against the marble floor. "Mr. Choi, Ms. Y/N, welcome to Luxe Motors. I'm Olivia Chen, head of marketing. We're thrilled to have you both here."

As they followed Olivia to the conference room, Seungcheol couldn't help but notice the curious glances and hushed whispers from the employees they passed. Their relationship was clearly the hot topic of discussion.

The meeting room was already occupied when they entered. Jeonghan, Seungcheol's team principal, was engaged in what looked like a heated discussion with a distinguished-looking man in an expensive suit.

"Ah, here they are now," the man said, turning to greet them with a wide smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Seungcheol, Y/N, I'm Robert Kensington, CEO of Luxe Motors. We're excited about the possibilities this partnership could bring."

As they took their seats, Robert launched into an enthusiastic pitch about the campaign. "We're thinking of a series of ads that showcase both the speed and elegance of our vehicles. Seungcheol, you'll represent the power and precision of our sports models. Y/N, you'll embody the sophistication and luxury of our high-end line."

Y/N nodded, her face a mask of professional interest, but Seungcheol could see the slight furrow in her brow. He knew that look – she wasn't entirely comfortable with something.

"We've also had some... interesting ideas about how to capitalize on your relationship," Robert continued, his tone becoming more cautious. "We were thinking of a tagline: 'The Perfect Match – On and Off the Track.'"

Seungcheol felt Y/N stiffen beside him. Before he could speak, she leaned forward, her voice cool and controlled. "Mr. Kensington, while we appreciate your enthusiasm, I hope you understand that our relationship isn't a marketing tool. We're here as individual professionals, not as a... a product to be sold."

Robert's smile faltered slightly, but he recovered quickly. "Of course, of course. We completely respect your privacy. Perhaps we could discuss some alternative approaches..."

The meeting dragged on for hours, a complex dance of negotiations and compromises. By the time they emerged, Seungcheol felt drained, as if he'd just completed a grueling race.

"Well, that was intense," he said as they made their way to the parking lot. "You were amazing in there, by the way. The way you stood up to Kensington..."

Y/N's smile was tight. "Thanks. I just... I don't want us to become some kind of circus act, you know? I want to be taken seriously for my work, not just as your girlfriend."

Seungcheol pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I know, love. We'll make sure that doesn't happen."

As they approached their car, a young woman suddenly darted in front of them, her phone held out. "Oh my god, it's really you! Can I get a selfie?"

Before either of them could respond, she wedged herself between them, snapping several pictures in quick succession. "This is so cool! My followers are going to freak out!"

The encounter left them both feeling unsettled. As Seungcheol drove them home, Y/N was uncharacteristically quiet, staring out the window with a pensive expression.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Seungcheol asked, reaching over to take her hand.

Y/N sighed, turning to face him. "I'm just... I'm worried, Cheol. About us, about our careers. What if this whole thing blows up in our faces?"

Seungcheol pulled the car over, giving Y/N his full attention. "Hey, look at me," he said gently, cupping her face in his hands. "We knew this wouldn't be easy. But we're stronger together, remember? Whatever comes, we'll face it as a team."

Y/N leaned into his touch, her eyes closing briefly. When she opened them, there was a newfound determination in her gaze. "You're right. We've got this."

As they leaned in for a kiss, neither of them noticed the lone paparazzo hiding in the bushes, his camera capturing every intimate moment.

The next morning, Seungcheol woke to the insistent buzzing of his phone. Groggily, he reached for it, careful not to wake Y/N who was still sleeping peacefully beside him.

His blood ran cold as he saw the barrage of messages and missed calls. There, plastered across every sports and gossip site, was a photo of him and Y/N in what should have been a private moment. The headlines screamed:

"SEUNGCHEOL AND Y/N: TROUBLE IN PARADISE?"

"RACING CHAMP AND MODEL GIRLFRIEND: SECRET ROADSIDE RENDEZVOUS"

"IS THE PRESSURE ALREADY TOO MUCH FOR F1'S NEW IT COUPLE?"

As Y/N stirred beside him, Seungcheol felt a surge of protectiveness. He knew the road ahead would be challenging, but he was determined to shield their love from the prying eyes of the world. Little did he know, this was just the beginning of the obstacles they would face.

Seungcheol took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation to come. As Y/N's eyes fluttered open, he forced a smile. "Morning, beautiful. We need to talk..."

Seungcheol watched anxiously as Y/N's eyes scanned the headlines on his phone, her expression morphing from confusion to shock, and finally settling into a mask of cold anger.

"How dare they?" she hissed, her knuckles white as she gripped the phone. "That was a private moment. How could they twist it like this?"

Seungcheol pulled her into his arms, feeling her tremble with a mix of rage and hurt. "I'm so sorry, love. I should have been more careful. I should have—"

Y/N cut him off, pulling back to look him in the eye. "No, Cheol. This isn't your fault. We have nothing to be ashamed of. We're adults in a committed relationship. They're the ones who should be ashamed, invading our privacy like this."

Despite the gravity of the situation, Seungcheol couldn't help but feel a surge of pride and love for Y/N's strength. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "You're right. So, what do we do now?"

Before Y/N could respond, both their phones began buzzing incessantly. Their respective agents, PR teams, and sponsors were all clamoring for statements and damage control strategies.

Y/N sighed, running a hand through her tousled hair. "I guess we face the music."

The next few hours were a whirlwind of conference calls, emergency meetings, and carefully crafted statements. By midday, Seungcheol felt as if he'd aged years. He looked over at Y/N, who was finishing up a call with her modeling agency.

"No, I will not issue an apology for being in a relationship," she was saying, her voice firm. "We've done nothing wrong. ... Yes, I understand the contract has a morality clause, but this hardly qualifies. ... Fine, we'll discuss this further in person."

She ended the call with a frustrated huff, tossing her phone onto the couch. "This is ridiculous. You'd think we'd committed some horrible crime."

Seungcheol moved to sit beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "How about we get out of here for a bit? Clear our heads?"

Y/N looked skeptical. "And go where? There are probably paparazzi camped outside as we speak."

A mischievous glint appeared in Seungcheol's eye. "Leave that to me."

Thirty minutes later, they were speeding down a secluded coastal road in Seungcheol's sports car, the top down and the wind whipping through their hair. Y/N tilted her head back, basking in the warmth of the sun on her face, a genuine smile gracing her features for the first time that day.

Seungcheol glanced over at her, his heart swelling with emotion. This was the Y/N he fell in love with – carefree, radiant, and full of life. He made a silent vow to do whatever it took to protect their happiness.

They drove for hours, talking, laughing, and simply enjoying each other's company away from the prying eyes of the world. As the sun began to set, painting the sky in brilliant hues of orange and pink, Seungcheol pulled off onto a hidden dirt road.

"Where are we going?" Y/N asked, curiosity piqued.

"You'll see," Seungcheol replied with a wink.

The road led them to a secluded cove, the beach empty save for a few seabirds. Seungcheol parked the car and came around to open Y/N's door, offering his hand with an exaggerated bow.

"My lady," he said in a faux posh accent, eliciting a giggle from Y/N.

Hand in hand, they walked down to the water's edge, the cool sand between their toes a stark contrast to the warmth of the fading sun. They stood in comfortable silence for a while, watching the waves crash against the shore.

"Thank you for this," Y/N said softly, leaning her head on Seungcheol's shoulder. "I needed it more than I realized."

Seungcheol turned to face her, cupping her face gently in his hands. "Y/N, I want you to know that no matter what happens, no matter what the world throws at us, I'm here. Always."

Y/N's eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she looked up at him. "I love you, Seungcheol. So much it scares me sometimes."

Their lips met in a kiss that started soft and tender but quickly ignited into something more passionate. Y/N's hands fisted in Seungcheol's shirt, pulling him closer as his arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her slightly off the ground.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, Seungcheol rested his forehead against Y/N's. "Come on," he said, his voice husky. "I have one more surprise for you."

He led her back to the car, opening the trunk to reveal a picnic basket and a pile of blankets. Y/N's face lit up with delight.

"You planned this?"

Seungcheol shrugged, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. "I may have made a few calls while you were in the shower this morning. I thought we might need an escape."

They spread the blankets on the hood of the car, laying back to watch as the first stars began to appear in the darkening sky. They fed each other strawberries and sipped champagne, talking about everything and nothing.

As the night grew cooler, Y/N snuggled closer to Seungcheol, her hand tracing idle patterns on his chest. The tension that had been building between them all day finally reached its breaking point.

Seungcheol captured Y/N's wandering hand, bringing it to his lips to place a soft kiss on her palm. The simple gesture sent a shiver down Y/N's spine. She propped herself up on one elbow, gazing down at Seungcheol with eyes dark with desire.

"Make love to me," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the waves.

Seungcheol didn't need to be asked twice. In one fluid motion, he flipped their positions, hovering over Y/N with a look of such intense love and desire that it took her breath away.

Their kisses were heated, urgent, hands roaming and exploring as if discovering each other for the first time. Clothes were shed with little regard, tossed haphazardly onto the sand.

Seungcheol trailed kisses down Y/N's neck, across her collarbone, and lower still. Y/N arched into him, her fingers tangling in his hair as waves of pleasure washed over her.

When Seungcheol finally entered her, they both gasped at the sensation. They moved together in perfect synchrony, the rhythm of their lovemaking echoing the crash of waves against the shore.

Y/N clung to Seungcheol, her nails raking down his back as she neared her peak. "Cheol," she panted, "I'm close..."

Seungcheol increased his pace, driving them both towards ecstasy. "Let go, baby," he murmured against her ear. "I've got you."

They reached their climax together, crying out each other's names into the night. As they came down from their high, Seungcheol peppered Y/N's face with soft kisses, murmuring words of love and adoration.

They lay entwined under the stars, basking in the afterglow, when a sudden flash of light startled them. For a heart-stopping moment, they feared they'd been discovered by paparazzi. But it was just a shooting star, streaking across the sky in a brilliant arc.

Y/N laughed, the sound full of relief and joy. "Make a wish," she said, snuggling closer to Seungcheol.

He tightened his arms around her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I already have everything I could wish for right here."

As they drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other's arms and the warmth of the blankets, both Seungcheol and Y/N felt a renewed sense of strength and unity. Whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together.

The harsh light of morning brought with it a return to reality. As Seungcheol and Y/N made their way back to the city, both their phones began buzzing with missed calls and messages.

"I suppose it was too much to hope the world would just forget about us for a day," Y/N sighed, scrolling through her notifications.

Seungcheol reached over to squeeze her hand. "Hey, remember what we talked about. Us against the world, right?"

Y/N smiled, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. "Right."

Their first stop was Seungcheol's race team headquarters. As they walked in, hand in hand, a hush fell over the usually bustling pit crew. Jeonghan approached them, his expression unreadable.

"Seungcheol, Y/N, my office please."

Once inside, Jeonghan's stern facade crumbled. "Do you two have any idea the headache you've caused me?" he said, but there was a note of fondness in his exasperation. "Half our sponsors are in a panic, the other half want to increase your visibility. It's chaos out there."

Seungcheol straightened, his jaw set in determination. "Jeonghan, I'm sorry for any trouble this has caused the team. But I won't apologize for my relationship with Y/N. If the sponsors have a problem with that—"

Jeonghan held up a hand, cutting him off. "Relax, kid. Nobody's asking you to choose between your career and your girl. We just need to manage this situation better. Which is why I've hired a speciality PR firm to handle your public image as a couple."

Y/N and Seungcheol exchanged surprised glances. This was not what they had expected.

"You're... supportive of us?" Y/N asked hesitantly.

Jeonghan's expression softened. "Look, I've known Seungcheol since he was a rookie. I've never seen him as happy or as focused as he's been since he met you. As far as I'm concerned, you're good for him and good for this team. We just need to make sure the rest of the world sees that too."

Relief washed over both of them. As they left Jeonghan's office, Seungcheol pulled Y/N into a tight hug. "One down," he murmured into her hair.

"One down," she agreed. "Now we just have to face my agency."

The meeting with Y/N's modeling agency was considerably less pleasant. Her agent, a sharp-faced woman named Vivian, paced the conference room like a caged tiger.

"Do you have any idea how many contracts we've had to renegotiate because of this scandal?" she snapped. "Your wholesome image was a major selling point, Y/N. Now half our clients are worried you're too controversial."

Y/N felt Seungcheol tense beside her, but she placed a calming hand on his arm. "Vivian," she said, her voice steady, "I understand your concerns. But I'm still the same model I was a week ago. My relationship status doesn't change my professionalism or my ability to do my job."

Vivian stopped pacing, fixing Y/N with a calculating look. "Maybe... maybe we can work with this. The bad girl image is in right now. And a high-profile relationship could open up new markets..."

As Vivian continued to muse about potential strategies, Y/N and Seungcheol shared a look of disbelief. It seemed that even in this storm of controversy, there might be a silver lining.

By the time they left the agency, both Seungcheol and Y/N were emotionally drained. As they walked to their car, a small group of fans approached, asking for autographs and selfies.

Y/N tensed, expecting intrusive questions or judgmental looks. But to her surprise, the fans were supportive and excited.

"You guys are so cute together!" one young girl gushed. "I hope I find someone who looks at me the way Seungcheol looks at you."

As they drove home, Y/N felt a weight lift from her shoulders. "You know," she said, turning to Seungcheol, "maybe this won't be as bad as we thought."

Seungcheol grinned, bringing her hand to his lips for a quick kiss. "With you by my side? Nothing's too tough to handle."

As they pulled into their driveway, both their phones pinged with a notification. It was a message from the PR firm Jeonghan had hired, outlining their strategy for the coming weeks.

Y/N scrolled through the message, her eyes widening. "They want us to do a joint interview? And a photoshoot for a major magazine?"

Seungcheol nodded, looking thoughtful. "It could be a good opportunity to control the narrative. Tell our story on our own terms."

Y/N bit her lip, considering. "You're right. And hey, at least we'll be facing it together."

As they walked into their home, hand in hand, both Seungcheol and Y/N felt a renewed sense of hope. The road ahead might be challenging, but they were determined to navigate it together, their love serving as both compass and anchor in the stormy seas of public life.

Exhausted from the emotional roller coaster of the day, they decided to turn in early. As they went through their nightly routines, moving around each other with the comfortable familiarity of a long-term couple, both felt a deep sense of gratitude for the other's presence.

Y/N finished brushing her teeth and padded into the bedroom, where Seungcheol was already under the covers, his back propped against the headboard as he scrolled through his phone. He looked up as she entered, a soft smile spreading across his face.

"Come here, you," he said, setting his phone aside and opening his arms.

Y/N didn't need to be told twice. She slipped under the covers and into Seungcheol's embrace, sighing contentedly as she rested her head on his chest. The steady thump of his heartbeat beneath her ear was comforting, grounding.

Seungcheol's fingers threaded through her hair, gently massaging her scalp. "How are you feeling?" he asked softly.

Y/N thought for a moment before answering. "Honestly? I feel... good. Today was crazy, but we got through it. Together."

Seungcheol pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "We did. And we'll get through whatever comes next the same way."

Y/N tilted her head up to look at him, her eyes shining with love and trust. "I know we will. I love you, Seungcheol."

"I love you too, Y/N," he murmured, leaning down to capture her lips in a tender kiss.

As they settled into bed, Seungcheol's arms wrapped securely around Y/N, her back pressed to his chest, they both felt a profound sense of peace. The outside world, with all its demands and judgments, seemed far away. In this moment, in the quiet of their bedroom, nothing existed but the two of them and the love they shared.

Y/N snuggled deeper into Seungcheol's embrace, feeling safe and cherished. "Goodnight, love," she whispered, her eyes already heavy with sleep.

"Goodnight, beautiful," Seungcheol replied, placing one last soft kiss on her shoulder.

As they drifted off to sleep, tangled in each other's arms, both Seungcheol and Y/N felt truly content.

The early morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the bedroom. Seungcheol stirred first, his eyes blinking open to find Y/N still nestled in his arms, her face peaceful in sleep. He couldn't help but smile, marveling at how beautiful she looked in the soft light.

As if sensing his gaze, Y/N's eyes fluttered open. A slow, sleepy smile spread across her face as she met Seungcheol's loving gaze. "Good morning, handsome," she murmured, her voice still husky with sleep.

Seungcheol leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "Good morning, beautiful. Sleep well?"

Y/N nodded, stretching languidly against him. "Mmm, like a baby. You make an excellent pillow, you know."

Seungcheol chuckled, his hand running soothingly up and down her back. "Happy to be of service."

They lay there for a while longer, enjoying the quiet intimacy of the morning. It was a stark contrast to the chaos of the previous day, and both of them savored the peaceful moment.

Eventually, the buzz of Seungcheol's phone on the nightstand broke the spell. He reached for it, careful not to disturb Y/N too much.

"It's Jeonghan," he said, scanning the message. "The PR team wants to meet with us this afternoon to prep for the interview and photoshoot."

Y/N propped herself up on one elbow, her expression a mix of excitement and nervousness. "I guess it's time to face the music, huh?"

Seungcheol set the phone aside and pulled Y/N closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Hey, we've got this. Remember, it's just us telling our story."

Y/N nodded, drawing strength from his confidence. "You're right. Plus, it might even be fun. I've always wanted to see you try to model," she added with a teasing grin.

Seungcheol gasped in mock offense. "Excuse me, I'll have you know I'm an excellent model. These racing suits don't wear themselves, you know."

Their laughter filled the room, dispelling any lingering tension. As they got up to start their day, both felt ready to take on whatever challenges lay ahead.

The PR team's office was a sleek, modern space in the heart of the city. Seungcheol and Y/N were ushered into a conference room where they were greeted by a trio of sharp-looking professionals.

"Seungcheol, Y/N, thank you for coming," said the woman at the head of the table. "I'm Rebecca, and this is my team, Alex and Mia. We're here to help you navigate this new chapter in your public lives."

For the next few hours, they went over strategies for the upcoming interview and photoshoot. The team was impressed by the natural chemistry between Seungcheol and Y/N, often exchanging pleased glances as the couple interacted.

"You two are naturals," Alex commented during a break. "The camera is going to love you."

As they were wrapping up, Rebecca handed them each a folder. "These are some talking points for the interview. Remember, the goal is to be authentic while also presenting a united front. Your love story is compelling – let that shine through."

Seungcheol and Y/N left the meeting feeling more confident about the upcoming media appearances. As they walked hand in hand down the busy street, Y/N suddenly tugged Seungcheol to a stop.

"Look," she said, pointing across the road. There, on a massive billboard, was an advertisement for Luxe Motors featuring a stunning sports car. "That could be us up there soon."

Seungcheol wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. "It will be. And we'll look damn good doing it."

The day of the photoshoot arrived bright and early. The set was a gorgeous beachfront property, with the ocean providing a stunning backdrop. As they went through hair and makeup, Seungcheol couldn't keep his eyes off Y/N.

"You know," he said, leaning close to whisper in her ear, "if this is what modeling is like, I might have to reconsider my career choices."

Y/N laughed, swatting him playfully. "Don't you dare. I quite like having a race car driver for a boyfriend."

The photoshoot itself was a whirlwind of costume changes, different poses, and endless flashes. But through it all, Seungcheol and Y/N's natural chemistry shone through. Whether they were posed casually by a vintage car or dressed to the nines for a red carpet shot, their connection was palpable.

"These are going to be stunning," the photographer gushed as he showed them some of the shots on his camera. "You can really feel the love between you two."

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the beach, the photographer suggested one last shot. Seungcheol and Y/N stood at the water's edge, the waves lapping at their feet. With the Luxe Motors car in the background, Seungcheol wrapped his arms around Y/N from behind, both of them looking out at the horizon.

"Perfect," the photographer said softly, not wanting to break the moment. "That's a wrap, folks!"

Later that evening, as they returned to Seungcheol's apartment, the excitement of the day still thrummed through their veins. Y/N scrolled through some of the behind-the-scenes photos on her phone as Seungcheol poured them each a glass of wine.

"We do look good together, don't we?" she mused, showing Seungcheol a candid shot of them laughing between takes.

Seungcheol set the wine glasses on the kitchen counter and moved behind Y/N, wrapping his arms around her waist. "The best," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the sensitive spot just below her ear. "Though I have to say, I prefer the real thing to any photo."

Y/N's breath hitched as Seungcheol's lips trailed down her neck. She set her phone aside, turning in his arms to face him. "Is that so?" she breathed, her eyes dark with desire. "Care to show me just how much you prefer the real thing?"

In response, Seungcheol captured her lips in a searing kiss. Y/N melted into him, her hands sliding up to tangle in his hair. With a low growl, Seungcheol lifted her onto the kitchen counter, stepping between her legs as she wrapped them around his waist.

Their kisses grew more heated, hands roaming with increasing urgency. Y/N tugged at Seungcheol's shirt, and he broke away just long enough to pull it off before returning to her lips. His hands slid under her blouse, caressing the soft skin of her back.

"Cheol," Y/N gasped as his lips found that spot on her neck again. "Bedroom?"

Seungcheol pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with desire. "Why wait?" he asked, his voice husky. "I want you right here, right now."

Y/N's answer was to pull him back in for another passionate kiss. Clothes were shed hastily, scattering across the kitchen floor. When Seungcheol finally entered her, they both gasped at the sensation.

They moved together with a passionate urgency, the counter providing the perfect leverage. Y/N's nails raked down Seungcheol's back as she neared her peak, while Seungcheol's hands gripped her hips, guiding their movements.

"Cheol, I'm close," Y/N panted, her head falling back in ecstasy.

"Let go, baby," Seungcheol murmured against her skin. "I've got you."

They reached their climax together, crying out each other's names into the quiet of the apartment. As they came down from their high, Seungcheol peppered Y/N's face with soft kisses, murmuring words of love and adoration.

Later, as they lounged on the couch, wrapped in soft blankets and each other's arms, Y/N's phone buzzed with a notification. She reached for it, her eyes widening as she read the message.

"Cheol, look at this," she said, showing him the screen. "The magazine wants to bump up the release date of our photoshoot. They say the public's fascination with us is at an all-time high."

Seungcheol read the message, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Looks like our risk is paying off, huh?"

Y/N nodded, snuggling closer to him. "I was so worried about going public, but now... it feels right. Like we're finally free to just be us."

Seungcheol pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I know what you mean. It's like the whole world can see what I've known all along – that you're the most amazing person I've ever met."

Y/N tilted her head up, capturing his lips in a soft, sweet kiss. When they parted, she had a mischievous glint in her eye. "You know, I think we missed a spot in the kitchen. Want to go for round two?"

Seungcheol laughed, the sound full of joy and love. "Lead the way, beautiful."

As they made their way back to the kitchen, hand in hand and giggling like teenagers, both Seungcheol and Y/N felt a profound sense of happiness. Their relationship had been thrust into the spotlight, but rather than wilting under the pressure, they had blossomed. Together, they were ready to face whatever the future held, their love a beacon guiding them through the dazzling world of fame and fortune.

The next morning dawned bright and early, finding Seungcheol and Y/N already up and about. They moved around the kitchen in perfect sync, preparing breakfast together as they discussed their plans for the day.

"I've got a team meeting at 10," Seungcheol said as he flipped pancakes. "Want to meet for lunch after?"

Y/N nodded, pouring coffee into their mugs. "Sounds perfect. I've got a fitting for that new designer campaign, but I should be done by noon."

As they sat down to eat, both their phones pinged with new messages. They shared a look, then reached for their devices.

"It's from the PR team," Seungcheol said, scanning the message. "They want to schedule a follow-up interview to coincide with the magazine release."

Y/N's eyes lit up as she read her own message. "Luxe Motors loves the preview shots. They want to discuss a long-term partnership with both of us!"

Seungcheol reached across the table, taking Y/N's hand in his. "Ready for our next adventure?" he asked, his eyes shining with excitement and love.

Y/N squeezed his hand, her smile radiant. "With you? Always."

#mansaenetwork #kvanity #seventeen x reader #svt fanfic #seventeen #svt #svt x reader #seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen imagines #seungcheol smut #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol fanfic #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol #writing #f1 driver seungcheol #svt fluff #seventeen fanfic

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forzalando · 10 months ago

Text

Orange Theory

Charles Leclerc x best friend!reader (female reader)

summary: charles and his best friend do countless nice things for each other, but they're just behaving like any good friend would. right? wc: 2.5k author's note: ok guys so this is not the Charles fic i promised (she is still a WIP and i will finish her eventually. probably will have to be a multi-part fic with how long it's getting), but i hope you enjoy this one in the meantime! special thanks to @scuderiahoney for encouragement and inspiration. special thanks to @sof1shticated for reading and assuring me this doesn't suck. if you haven't read their fics, both Lee and Mel have some gems that i adore. HIGHLY recommend checking out their masterlists! warnings: none!

You loved summer break – Charles was home for at least a few weeks, days spent on a yacht, every afternoon and evening spent with friends either at dinner or out at some club until someone got too drunk to carry on.

Today was, in your humble opinion, the perfect day. All of your friends, courtesy of Charles, were sprawled out on the sun deck of a rented boat or splashing around in the water below. You could feel the heat radiating off of Lando as he laid next to you and whispered about how McLaren was making insane upgrades – according to him, they might just have a race-winning car in the second half of the season.

“Are you boring my best friend to tears, Norris?” The brutal sun disappeared behind Charles�� body as he stood above you – as if on instinct, he shifted slightly so that you could look up at him and not be blinded by its rays.

“She’s hanging on my every word, right, Y/N? In fact, she asked me how I’m feeling about Zandvoort and the rest of the season.”

“And?” Charles asked, a small smile on his face.

“Like I would tell you what’s going on with the car! I know Y/N can keep a secret, she would never betray me to a prancing horse. She bleeds papaya.”

You laughed along with Lando – the one point of contention that had always existed in your friendship with Charles. Of course, you became a Ferrari fan because of him, but you’d always been a McLaren and Mercedes loyalist. It was something that Lando, Oscar, and George relished in.

“Alright, alright, no need to rub it in, Norris,” you giggled. “What can I do for you, Charlie?”

“I just came to give you this.”

Within seconds, a perfectly peeled orange dropped in your lap. Lando’s eyes grew wide for a moment but a swift glare from Charles had his face back to normal in no time. You missed the interaction, jumping up from your seat in excitement.

“Aw, Charlie! You are the best friend a girl could ask for,” you chirped as you started separating the wedges of fruit.

“Ah, don’t mention it,” he sighed, waving his citrus-scented hand in the air. “There’s more in the cooler if you want! Freshly peeled!”

“Thank you, mon cher ami.” You quickly kissed his cheek, noticing as you pulled away just how red it was, along with his neck and the tips of his ears. “Charles! How many times do I have to tell you to put on sunscreen? Your face and neck are fried!”

“I don’t think it’s from the sun,” Lando mumbled, his eyes trained on the fruit in your hands. With Charles insisting he was fine, you could barely hear what he had said.

“What did you say, Lan?” You asked, turning your attention away from Charles for a moment.

Once again, Lando was met with a menacing glare and he laughed awkwardly before moving his gaze to the horizon.

“Nothing, nothing, Y/N. Just thinking out loud.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you turned back to Charles and handed him the orange he had just given to you. With your now free hands, you rifled through your beach bag until you found the SPF 50 face cream you had packed that morning with Charles in mind.

“Here, I packed this for you. Please put some on so I don’t have to worry about you getting sun poisoning,” you pleaded with your best puppy dog eyes.

Charles stared without answering for far too long – anything you wanted, all you had to do was ask him and he’d do it. Even without you gazing at him with your wide, siren eyes, he would give you the world if you so desired it.

He shook his head slightly, pulling himself out of the daze caused by your pleading eyes. “Oui, ma fleur, I will put on the sun cream. Je promets.”

You smiled in triumph, taking the orange back from Charles and bidding him a “see you later” before laying back down in your lounger. Popping an orange slice into your mouth, you let out a contented sigh. Somehow, whether Charles was magic or he had some serious connections in the produce world, the fruit he picked out and gave to you always tasted better than anything you bought yourself.

“He peels your oranges for you?”

You hummed and turned to Lando – “what, Lan?”

“Does Charles always peel your oranges for you?”

“Well, no, obviously not always. Why?”

Before Lando could answer, Lily plopped down next to you and stole an orange slice from your hand.

“I swear,” she huffed, “Alex and George are competitive to begin with, but when they get together, it’s unbearable. They’ve been having a “who can hold their breath the longest” contest for the past thirty minutes! Rematch after rematch after rematch, I called in my favor with Oscar to get out of judging their little competition.”

“As if either of them could beat me, they probably didn’t ask me to join because they’re scared,” Lando bragged. “I’ll leave you ladies to chat, go show them how it’s done.”

As Lando walked towards the edge of the boat, you and Lily turned towards one another.

“Men,” you scoffed in unison, following it up with belly laughs and lingering giggles.

As the laughter died down, Lily ate the orange slice she had stolen from you and practically moaned in delight. “Where did you get this orange? It might be the best I’ve ever had!”

“It’s from Charles! I was just thinking about this, I don’t know how he does it but he always has the best fruit. Every time he brings me any I am both ecstatic and pissed off – my fruit is never as good as his and we shop at the same grocery store!”

“Well, does he have any more oranges? I could eat 20 of these.”

“He said he left me more in his cooler, let me grab them.”

A few moments later, you walked back to Lily with a bag of peeled oranges in your right hand and two bottles of water in your left.

“Are you a professional orange peeler? You were only gone for two minutes.”

“Oh no,” you giggled, “Charles peeled them for me. He knows I don’t like peeling them so when he can, he always does it for me.”

“Y/N,” Lily looked at you suspiciously, “do you know what the orange peel theory is?”

You wracked your brain but came up empty. “No, what is it?”

Lily went into a brief explanation – something about how it became a viral tik tok challenge, people asking their partners if they would peel an orange for them and how it was an indicator of true love, soulmates, a healthy relationship, and everything in between. “Well, that’s just silly,” you mumbled through chews, orange juice dribbling down your chin. “I think it just means someone is a good person – Charlie and I aren’t anything more than friends and he peels my oranges, among other things, because he has a good heart.”

“Among other things?” Lily pressed you, her eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t quite place.

“He slices my apples because I have never been able to master the apple corer contraption! And he takes all my grapes off the stems when he’s at my place because I never do – it’s too tedious.”

“What else?”

“Oh, when we go out to breakfast, he always brings me a tea when he picks me up. He’s an early riser and I take forever to get ready. He knows I never have time to make it myself when we have plans before 10am.”

Lily was smirking at you, no, smiling at you. It was a little unnerving, the way she was entirely amused at the information you were giving her. However, the moment was briefly interrupted by the arrival of Alex.

“What are we talking about, ladies?” He spoke cheerfully, a broad smile on his face which meant that he was most likely declared the best breath holder of the 2019 rookies.

“Y/N was just telling me about all the sweet things Charles does for her,” Lily gushed.

“Oh god, when is he not doing things for her? Did you see him buttering her bread for her at dinner last week?”

Lily burst out laughing while you playfully punched Alex’s arm. “I’m indecisive! He butters it for me while I read the menu since it takes me so long to figure out what I want to order. It saves time!”

“He does that on a regular basis?” Alex asked incredulously, looking at Lily with wide eyes. “My god, that man is head over heels.”

“Alex,” you protested, “Charles is not in love with me. We’ve been friends for six years, I think I would know by now.”

“You’re both impossible,” Alex groaned. “Come on, Lily, I just came over to get you so we could play water polo with George and Carmen.”

Lily sighed in defeat, though she had a smile on her face at the thought of spending time with Alex even if it meant another competition. “I’ll see you, later, yeah?” She called over her shoulder, waving goodbye as you teased her by dramatically eating another slice of orange and settling back in your chair. At the front of the boat, Charles was laughing with Pierre and almost as if he felt you looking, he turned around and met your gaze.

Even though you had just wholly denied anything more than friendship between you and him, you couldn’t help but think about your interactions with Lily and Alex.

Sure, Charles sometimes did things that were out of the ordinary for ‘just friends’, but he had the sweetest soul of anyone you’d ever met. He always sacrificed his umbrella or jacket for you, made sure you had fresh tulips in your apartment when he was home in between races, had your favorite meal delivered to you when you were having a rough day while he was away and you missed him.

You did things for him too – cleaned his apartment when you knew he was on his way back to Monaco, left him plenty of sticky notes with words of encouragement if he was coming back from a bad race, stocked his fridge full of his favorite things. Recently, you’d been gifting him annotated books because he mentioned he wanted to read more and always enjoyed listening to you talk about your favorite novels. Since you spent most of the year apart, you decided he could at least read your thoughts.

When you could come to races, unfortunately a rare occurrence due to your graduate classes and work schedule, he made sure Ferrari hospitality had your favorite flavor of sparkling water on hand. Anytime you saw a cute dog video, you would send it to him because they always made him smile.

You’d do anything to make him smile, just as he would for you, which is what a good friend would do. A best friend, it’s what a best friend would do.

But best friends didn’t linger in doorways and stare at each other’s lips when bidding each other goodnight. They didn’t cuddle close and fall asleep in each other’s arms on a couch while watching whatever movie you had chosen because he always let you choose.

They didn’t look at one another the way Charles was looking at you now – his sunglasses pushed up on top of his head and a dopey smile on his face. He waved to you and dramatically blew you a kiss, something he always did when he caught your eye across a room, no matter who was around.

You practically launched yourself to your feet, the last remaining orange slices in your lap falling to the lounger and staining the seat with juice. It was only seconds until you were standing in front of Charles but the walk over felt like an eternity with the way the world around you disappeared and your heart pounded in your chest.

“Est-ce que tu maimes, Charles?”

The question came out in one breath, your chest heaving in anticipation for his response.

“Of course, I love you, ma fleur,” he laughed. “What’s gotten into you?”

“No,” you panted. “Do you love me, Charlie? Est-ce que tu maimes?”

“Of course, I love you,” he answered again, his eyes shining and a small smile on his face that told you everything you needed to know. “Every time I think of you, I love you. Every time I breathe, I love you.”

“Every time you peel my oranges?” You whispered, holding up your orange juice-stained fingertips. He took your right hand in his and held it up to his face to kiss your palm, his eyelashes fluttering against you gently.

“Especially when I peel your oranges. Did you know that I hate doing it too? Like, really hate it. I don’t even peel them for myself.”

You gasped in shock, watching as he threw his head back and laughed jovially.

“I’d do anything for you, ma fleur. Mon soleil. Mon cœur.”

“Would you kiss me?”

“Maybe if Pierre would leave and stop gawking at us.”

This time you threw your head back to laugh, Charles soon joining you as Pierre protested the accusation.

“No, no,” he shouted, “you didn’t even give me a chance to leave. Just started declaring your love before I knew what was happening. Which, by the way, was so obvious it was starting to get annoying. We’ve all tried dropping hints to both of you so I don’t know who got through to you, Y/N, but – ”

“Pierre!” You shouted, eyes wide and arm gesturing him away from the two of you.

“Ah, désolé, I’m leaving,” he grumbled, almost tripping over his own feet to get away as quickly as possible.

You giggled again and Charles gripped your chin softly, pulling your eyes away from Pierre and back to face him.

He leaned in gently, as if he was afraid you would back away and regret taking the leap to go from friends to something so much more.

He tasted like salt water, smelled like sweet fruit and sunscreen – you smiled into the kiss knowing that he had listened to you and put it on, even though you knew he hated the way it felt on his skin.

His fingers gripped your waist and yours trailed up his chest – both of you slightly sticky from the citrus juices and sweat from the sun.

You pulled away and nudged his nose with yours, breathing him in and wishing that this moment would never end. Charles lowered you both to the sun deck, adjusting until you were sitting between his legs and his arms were wrapped firmly around you, the two of you facing the sunset and open sea.

After a few moments, you broke the shared silence. “You know, I would have happily peeled an orange for you if you had ever asked me,” you asserted.

Charles’ hold on you softened at your admission, the thinly veiled meaning not at all lost on him as he pressed his lips to your cheek.

“I love you too, Y/N.”

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 x reader #forzalando #f1 fanfic #f1 fic

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