#I’ve had this drafted for a while but I’ve been thinking about it off and on for like. months honestly | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

justwinginglife · 5 hours ago

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"Though you said you were going to come for me? Those little droplets don't count."

I’ve had this one line in my drafts for like ever, and I feel like using it on the LADS boys is dangerous territory that I’d like to die in (because I’m a menace). Anyway, proceed at your own peril.

**This is, of course, NSFW. **

I had planned to release more smut today for my one year anniversary on Tumblr, but considering these were all roughly 1k a piece and I wrote five of them, this is all you get for now.

Tags- Oh, god, idk, like a fuck ton of sex? Edging, sex toys, fingering, oral, p in v, p in a, squirting, you name it.

Caleb

Up until now, you’d been comfortably perched on top of Caleb, hips rolling forward to whatever rhythm you so desired, his cock only going as deep as had you allowed, his cum only spilling into you when you had permitted it to. And he had given you that control willingly. Honestly, he found it hot. Ridiculously hot.

But then you’d had the audacity to tease him about how much he’d come inside you.

“A droplet,” you’d called it. A goddamn droplet. Evidence of his orgasm was literally oozing out of you in waves -in waves, damnit! Meaning it had yet to STOP- and had been for the past hour that you’d relentlessly tormented him, and now you had the nerve to be unimpressed. Joking or not, he’d make you choke on your own words.

“A droplet, huh?” His words rumbled out of his throat, low and gravelly. “And I suppose next you’ll tell me my size is mediocre too?”

You feigned thinking for a minute, pulling yourself off of him to play at measuring him. He was still impressively erect, his cock standing tall like a skyscraper between your legs, but you brought your two fingers close together as though the small gap between them was meant to convey his microscopic length. “I meeeean, while we’re on the topic, I guess it was kinda difficult to feel you.” You bit back a laugh, thinking yourself humorous. You were clearly joking. Anyone with eyes could see how massive his size was even when it was soft. And when it was hard? It was like trying to fit a baseball bat inside of you. So of course you were just messing around. Baiting him for the thrill of it. Looking back, you wished you never would’ve said something so dangerous.

“You can’t even feel it, huh?” He repeated, his eyes narrowing. “My apologies, Princess. I guess I’ll just have to do better, now won’t I?” His words were polite but his tone was harsh, his smile pinched, and the look he gave you was anything but respectful.

“Why don’t you tell me if you feel it-” In an instant, he had you locked in a mating press, your legs soaring over your head. Your lungs felt him before your cunt did, your air wheezing out of you as he speared through your shuddering walls. “-now??”

He’d completely bottomed out and, at that moment, you swore you could feel him in your ribcage.

Before you had the chance to reply -and you hadn’t yet figured out if you’d wanted to reply with more sarcasm (a reckless move but a tempting one nonetheless) or honesty- he began snapping his hips forward, his cock drilling into you vigorously.

He usually gave you time to adjust to his size, and he only became more careful the deeper he went, but not today. Today, he had to prove a point. Today was the last day you would be able to walk without a limp.

His cock pistoned in and out of you, rapid fire, leaving no time for breath.

“C-C-Caleb!” You choked out, tears burning in your eyes.

“Hold on, baby- gonna give you a couple more ‘droplets,’ how’s that sound?” His hands forced your legs closer to your shoulders, his fingers burying themselves in your skin. His eyes met yours, dark and dangerous.

You knew that look. He was preparing to go even harder. Your poor, bruised cervix didn’t know how much more it could take. You had no choice but to beg.

“W-Wait! P-Please, Caleb, I was only jok-”

He yanked his cock out only to slam his length into you full force once again.

“F-Fuck! You’re huge, you’re enormous, you’re gigantic-” Your saliva dribbled down your lips as you babbled your praises to him in hopes it would slow his bombardment. “I n-never should’ve said what I said! I p-promise I didn’t mean it-”

“Are you sure, baby?” He growled. “Maybe I should continue. Maybe you haven’t learned your lesson yet.”

“I have, I have!” You blurt out, desperation in your voice.

“Good girl. Now, sit tight and let me breed you like the obedient little thing you are, yeah?” He pressed kisses to your neck as though he meant to soothe you. When his lips finally met yours, his passion igniting pleasure in your every nerve, you forgot about the pain, just for a split second.

And then you felt your back rise off the bed.

He would go on to tell you later that you screamed his name so loudly he was sure your neighbors would file a complaint, but in that moment, as he split your pussy open wider on his aggrieved cock, its thick veins purpled with renewed purpose, his eyes burning bright with desire and determination, you swore all you heard was the roaring of blood that was pounding in your ears.

And even after he’d already come inside you (and you weren’t sure when exactly he’d started coming, as your senses had simply shut down at some point, having overloaded to the maximum), liquid gushing out of him like a geyser, his hips still stuttered back and forth as though he were commanding more to flow out of him. As though he wouldn’t be satisfied until you were spilling out rivers of his lust.

If he put you in a tub right now, would you fill it up with nothing more than his arousal?

Before he could get any more ideas, you quickly stammered out, “Okay, okay! It’s more than a drop, it’s more than a drop!”

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Rafayel

Rafayel always had that after-sex glow.

That twinkle in his eyes, that pep in his step, that pink in his cheeks that served as evidence of just how much he’d enjoyed your time together. It was something you looked forward to as much as the sex itself.

But tonight, his more wholesome self was nowhere to be found.

Not after you’d accused him of barely coming inside you at all.

Tonight, those sparkling eyes were replaced by something more sinister, something more sinful. Tonight, he loomed over you like he was a storm you wouldn’t survive.

“Didn’t come enough for your liking, huh? You humans- always so greedy, always so demanding, taking what you want, whenever you want it. Well, I hope you can take this.”

You hissed as he pressed your back against the shower tiles, the cold stinging your skin. Before you had time to complain, you felt the familiar pressure of his cock burrowing itself deep inside your cunt. You wanted to ask how this was any different from the sex you’d just had mere moments ago, but he answered your question with a sharp thrust up your ass.

Wait.

He…he was in…two places at…

You looked down to find the cock you’d previously drained dry was roaring back to life again, now pistoning itself in and out of your pussy. Below it, an identical cock had emerged, equally engorged, and equally as unrelenting.

You blinked. Blinked again.

How was this happening? You’d had sex with him plenty of times before, cuddled him enough times that he may as well have been attached to you, so you were sure that you’d taken the time to properly memorize every inch of his anatomy from head to toe. How was it that you’d completely overlooked an entire sex organ? Especially one that large. Had it always…been there? Or were you really so cock drunk that you were imagining things?

“You’re not imagining anything.”

Your head snapped back up to meet his gaze. Was it that obvious what you were just thinking about??

“I only use it on…special occasions,” He dipped his head down to nip at your earlobe before purring, “And I’d say this counts as a special occasion, don’t you? Wouldn’t want my beloved bride to think I’m holding out on her now.”

His lips began their tantalizing trail along your jawline, his kisses both reverent and rebuking all at once. This lust-driven path continued down your neck, tongue and teeth working together to paint beautiful bruises along his newest canvas. After a while, he pulled back to survey his work, eyes skimming across the purples and pinks he’d stained into your skin. When he remained unsatisfied with his masterpiece, he began to ravage your breasts. Your skin flushed crimson as he lavished his attention upon them, his greed and desire evident with every stroke of his tongue and suction of his lips.

But even his admonishment of your insolent behavior came off as worship after long enough. He pinched your nipples between his fingers, but only as hard as you liked. He sunk his teeth into the mass of muscle between your neck and shoulder, but only as deep as you liked. And he slapped your ass repeatedly, but only as much as you could take.

You swore you knew how to speak, or at least, your tongue remembered what words felt like and your ears remembered how they were supposed to sound, but your brain, it seemed, was choosing to go into meltdown mode. You wondered if the bond between you gave away all of your most sensual secrets, allowing him to uncover everything that made you unravel. He had toyed with every sensitive spot on your body, all while fucking you completely dumb in two different places, and you had no words left to give. Only strangled noises that served as evidence of your pleasure. At some point, he’d turned on the water, but you paid no mind to it. You were already drowning in the feeling of him, what was a little water to you?

He strengthened his grip on your legs, pulling you tighter around his waist. Your shoulder blades dug into the shower wall as his weight pressed into you. He was bracing you, but you were too delirious to figure out what for. Up until now, he’d only been slowly thrusting into you, paying more attention to every other spot on your body that made you squirm for him. But he couldn’t forget what his original goal was. You’d asked him to come for you. To come for you impressively, at that. So now it was his turn to feel good.

His pace began to pick up, fingers digging into your thighs, as he plunged himself deeper into your two holes.

You gasped for breath but found only the heat of his lips colliding with yours. He hungrily consumed every squeak and squeal that slipped from your tongue onto his.

You hadn’t even eaten dinner yet -having gotten distracted by Rafayel coming out of the bathroom with nothing on but a towel loosely hanging from his waist, which was when you imposed the first round of intercourse on him- but suddenly your stomach was feeling rather full, having been stuffed to the brim on two fronts. You could feel your belly bulging as he burrowed his way deeper and deeper with every powerful thrust.

You could tell he was close as his thrusts became sloppy and desperate. Crimson seeped into his skin, following a path from the tip of his ears to the swell of his cheeks, even beginning to creep down the expanse of his neck. Water and sweat alike cascaded down his shoulders. They stuttered down his chest as his heaving breaths minutely disrupted their smooth flow.

Even as a god, Rafayel had never been particularly religious, only believing in what was relevant to him here and there, only participating when it was of benefit to him, but now, he swore he was seeing Elysium.

Your lips were parted, breaths bleeding into the steam, your cunt clenching hungrily around his cock, and he swore, when he looked into your eyes, everything from Heaven to Earth, the wind and the waves, the storm and the sun, all parted to allow him passage into paradise.

And then he passed through the gates.

He only had enough air to groan once, steam and lust clouding his vision in a field of white, before he lost himself in the feeling of you. His cocks spasmed and he lurched forward, his head collapsing onto your shoulder as he began to flood your depths with his seed.

You were nearly on the edge of bliss yourself, your mind having been unable to focus on a single target of pleasure between his eager conquest of your ass and your pussy, but when you felt his heat sear through you, his cum filling you to the brim, you let paradise claim you.

Your back arched off the wall, legs squeezing tighter around him, as ecstasy surged through your veins. You were soaring high above the clouds, the breeze dancing along your every nerve, until finally you came down to land in his arms.

When you squirt all over his pelvis, he lifted a brow, both amused and enlightened by the new information that you now had the ability to squirt for him. He leaned forward, his breath hot on your ear.

“I guess I’ll have to make everyday a ‘special occasion’ then, if you’re going to come so beautifully for me like that.”

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Zayne

Zayne bit back a laugh.

“Forgive me, but I didn’t realize intercourse required a specific amount of cum to be effective.” He played like he was a researcher, listening to you intently as you provided him with new information that could potentially uproot his entire field of study, but his eyes sparkled with mirth. He wondered how far you’d take this silly, little charade of yours. And he pondered how far he wanted to take it himself.

“Yes, well, now you know. When we have sex, I expect you to fill me to the brim- nothing like the measly amount you just spilled into me.” You stated your words very matter-of-factly. Except that there was nothing factual about them. You knew damn well that, at this very moment, his cum was still dripping out of you like it had no end. And he knew it too.

He gave a small smirk. Yeah. He’d made up his mind already; he wasn’t letting his charade end until he was satisfied you’d swallow your own words. “I see. Well, I hate to be so disappointing. I think we’re in need of another trial run then, yes?” You nodded your agreement. “I believe that is the best course of action for this kind of situation.”

“Perhaps-” He suddenly turned you around and bent you over his desk (your eyes widening as he did so) before spearing his cock through your slicked folds once more, “-Your technique was what was lacking. In order to best stimulate my arousal to provide you with the optimum amount of orgasmal release, I’d recommend this angle.”

You let out a choked gasp as you steadied yourself against the desk’s surface. He’d never fucked you from the back before. Something about always wanting to see your pretty face make the expressions that you did. But apparently that factor didn’t apply today. Oh god, were you going to survive him?

He pulled out just enough so that only his tip remained within you and you bit your lip, bracing for impact. But it never came. His hips very slowly rowed forward again, his erection easing its way into you. His hands planted themselves on your hips, his thumbs caressing your back, as if to tell you how well you were taking him.

You thought to yourself, this wasn’t so bad. You could keep going like this. You could rock yourself onto him, taking the time to savor his every vein carving itself into your walls. You could do it. Sensual and slow was the way to go.

Then he reached around to flick his fingers across your clit and while you were busy whimpering at the new sensation, his hips rocketed forward, drilling the entirety of his bulging member through your trembling walls in one go.

“Zayne!” You cried out.

“Just a little bit longer, and you’ll get what you want.” He murmured, voice hoarse.

His thrusts grew relentless as his desire overcame him. Sure, he’d been trying to teach you a lesson, but now he was starting to forget what exactly that lesson was. All he could think about was just how perfectly warm you were, how perfectly tight you were, how perfectly soaked you were. He was sure if he lifted you up, you’d have made a mess of his desk already, your arousal pooling beneath you. And it drove him crazy.

He pounded into you tirelessly, his fingers nearly scarring their imprints onto your hip bones from how tightly he grasped you, attempting to stabilize himself. He wanted to feel every inch of you- needed it, really. As a doctor, he knew that logistically speaking, it was impossible for his cock to rearrange all of your internal organs, but he damn well wanted to try.

You held onto the edge of the desk for dear life as Zayne attempted to split right through your stomach. What was he trying to do? Saw you in half down the middle?

Your core was nearly on fire at this point; seriously, you were sure the only thing keeping you from sparking into flames from the friction of his cock grating against your walls was the fact that you were so ungodly wet right now. Why were you so wet? Did his ruination of you really feel that good?

He crashed against your cervix and you came on his desk.

“F-F-Fuuuuuck, Zaaaayne!” Your lips quivered, tears spilling down your cheeks as he continued to fuck your throbbing cunt. Your arms buckled beneath you, nerves spasming all over as your orgasm continued to pinball around your body, zinging to and fro, and you ended up fully collapsing on the desk.

“Hold out a little longer. I’m almost there.” He grunted out.

“I caaaan’t,” You whined.

“Who’s the one who wanted me to come harder?” He questioned.

You bit your lip. “M-me…”

“And who’s the one who just came on the desk because it felt so good?”

“M-me…”

“Exactly. You’re being such a good girl; I think you can hold out a little longer, yeah? Just until I breed you, nice and full. Yes, my love?”

You nodded shakily. You started this, you might as well finish it. You clenched your eyes shut as he continued to pump into you. Fuck, fuck, fuck. It hurt so good. You’d never realized just how big he was. Never realized just how batshit crazy you were for him.

He thrust into you again. And then again.

Then he buried his head against your shoulder, groaning and gasping, as his orgasm slammed into him full force. His body shuddered as he struggled to process the ecstasy soaring through his veins. Loads of his cum surged out of him, thick and hot, until it was waterfalling down your legs.

As he caught his breath, he thought to himself that, even with you egging him on, he shouldn’t have been able to come that much. He wasn’t even aware he was capable of producing that much cum. He wasn’t aware that anyone human was capable of producing that much. But, ah well, there was no point in ruminating about this strange, new revelation now. He was finally finished. He could relax again (if you’d let him, you damn tease).

Then you twitched underneath him and before he could understand what was happening, he started to come again.

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Xavier

Xavier stared at you, eyes calculating, arms crossed.

“And what about that-” He bent down to run a finger through the fresh cum that was still drizzling out of you, “-wasn’t enough for you?” He asked, voice low and demanding.

You cleared your throat, preparing to stand your ground. You shrugged. “I’m just saying, I’m hardly soaked. If we were trying to make a baby right now, all we’d have to show for it would be a negative line on a pregnancy test.”

You were bullshitting him. You totally were. But how else were you supposed to goad him into fucking you more? You’d missed him. He’d spent way too much time frolicking around space, and you’d spent way too much time humping his pillow. You needed him. So if telling him that his cum was unimpressive meant that he’d spend the entire night proving you wrong, you’d do it again in a heartbeat.

When he immediately left the room, your heart sank. Was the bait not enough? Should you have pushed him harder? Or should you have just told him the truth, that you wanted him to fuck you into oblivion? You wracked your brain, wondering what you were supposed to say when you finally went after him.

You certainly hadn’t expected that he’d come back into the room with…rope.

“Sit down.” He gestured to a nearby chair.

Your eyes darted back and forth between him and the chair. Just what was he planning to do? Obviously, he must be thinking of tying you to the chair, but what then?

“Don’t trust me?”

His eyes were innocent enough that you made the decision to do as he said. But you shouldn’t have.

Like you thought, he began to tie you to the chair, but you hadn’t imagined it would be nearly this tight. Your wrists and ankles strained against the rope but it didn’t budge even the littlest bit. Oh fuck. What had you gotten yourself into?

“X-Xavier…what are you going to do to me now?” You asked meekly, your earlier audacity evaporating.

“Showing you how much I can come for you. Isn’t that what you asked for?” His eyes glint with mischief.

“I did…but how is tying me to a chair related? Don’t you have to come inside me?”

He leaned forward, capturing your chin in an iron grasp, before tilting you to face him. “And who said I had to come inside you?”

Before you could be properly flabbergasted at the single loophole he’d found to ruin your entire plan, he began to pull something out of a box.

You swallowed. “Xavier…what’s that?”

“You’ll see.” He bent down to push the foreign object into your cunt.

You winced at how cold it was.

At first, it did nothing. Just sat there. Provided some much needed pressure that you’d been hoping his cock would give you, but didn’t do much more than that.

Then he began murmuring to himself while flipping through a little booklet, which you soon realized was its instruction manual.

“Hmm. Let’s see. For first time use, low levels are recommended.” He hit a button on a remote and then glanced over the top of the booklet to see your reaction.

It’d begun a pleasant buzzing between your legs but it was hardly enough to elicit any sizable reaction.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. You’re not like the other people using this thing. Low level my ass.” He chucked the booklet behind him and began to crank the dials up on the remote.

You jolted forward, sparks shooting through your veins, but the restraints held you in place. Like a wildfire, heat began to burn in your core and spread throughout your body. Sweat rolled down your bare chest, dripping off your peaked nipples. “X-Xavier!” You gasped out.

“Mm.. still think it’s not high enough. You do have high tolerance levels, after all.” He hit the maximum setting and then chucked the remote behind him as well, not bothering to see where it’d landed. Then he sat down and simply watched you, stroking his cock as he did so.

The damn vibrator began to wildly thrash in your pussy, igniting and imploding every nerve within your shuddering walls. Your stomach lurched, your lungs feeling like they were collapsing in on themselves. “Xavier!!” In no time at all, you were drooling and squirting all over yourself.

“That’s it…” He drawled, spitting on his cock as he fucked his palm harder.

“W-W-Waaaait!” You stammered out, choking on your own saliva. As quickly as you’d come, the tension had begun to build itself inside you once again. “C-Can’t…take…”

“You wanted me to come for you harder, right? So why don’t you come for me harder? Give me a good show. And then I’ll reward you.” He continued to watch you squirm, licking his lips as your drool dripped down your breasts. He ran a thumb over his tip, groaning as he teased himself.

“S-So…sensitive…” You squeaked out in an almost pleading tone, eyes squeezing shut. Your head had rolled back, shoulders slumped, as you attempted to catch your breath. Your breaths came in such short gasps, you were surprised you’d managed to suck in any oxygen at all. He still hadn’t turned down the setting so your torment continued, a never ending cycle of pleasure and pain.

When you came again, like a bomb exploding between your legs, he began to circle you.

You would’ve asked him what for, if you’d had enough energy left, but the vibrating between your legs never stopped, and so you mustered up what strength you had left to endure the next onslaught.

He played with his balls in one hand, the other still vigorously stroking his impressive length, as he watched you make a mess for him. You were sure you’d ruined the chair by now, but that just turned him on even more.

He finally stopped his circling to stand before you, hand bracing itself on one of your shoulders. You wondered if he’d finally put an end to this cycle, but he didn’t. He simply pumped his hand in and out of his fist faster and then came all over your stomach.

“That enough cum for you yet?” He growled.

So that was his plan.

Leaving you no time to answer, he spoke again, “Guess not.”

He began to play with himself again until his cock had hardened to an almost painful degree. “Look at you…all covered in my cum. All helpless and desperate. You want me to take the pain away, don’t you? To fuck you myself?” Your eyes widened and you quickly nodded. “Yes, Xavier, please! Take this damn thing out of me- I wanna feel you!”

Still stroking himself, he slipped his fingers inside you to retrieve his little torture device. Surprisingly, the split second he had touched your cunt was enough to make you come again, and you squirt all over his fingers this time.

“Naughty.” He clicked his tongue against his teeth. “How should I punish you?” He brought the vibrator between your legs once more and tears began to roll down your cheeks as you prepared yourself for insertion but it never came. Instead, he pressed it to your clit.

“Mmmph!” You let out a muffled sob as your clit began to swell from the stimulation. At this point, you were sure all your internal organs would just spontaneously combust. You weren’t used to such a rollercoaster of sensations, and right now, you were on an upwards spiral. Each delicious, devious vibration that rumbled against your clit sent you teetering closer and closer to the edge. You fought against your restraints again, if only to try and close your legs, but it was to no avail. That familiar spark was bursting into flames once again.

When you came for the third time, you were sure you blacked out. Blinking back the oblivion, you realized he’d completely doused the entirety of your neck, torso, and legs, like you were his personal cum dumpster. Seeing you all timid and trembling in combination with his fucked-out fist must have sent him barreling towards his orgasm too. And an impressive one, at that.

You suddenly heard the snap of a camera and looked up to find Xavier examining the picture on his phone.

“Yeah. I think that’ll do.”

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Sylus

Sylus scoffed, both amused and irked at the same time.

He could’ve filled his car’s gas tank with how much he’d come inside you tonight, and still, you were insistent that it wasn’t enough. How bold of you.

“And do you think, somehow, that you could’ve come anymore than me?” He demanded, gesturing to the liquids that were currently oozing out of you and collecting on the floor in a puddle.

You lifted your chin to him defiantly. “Do I think I could’ve come more than a grain of sand? Yeah, I do.”

He snorted. A grain of sand. You were literally oozing gallons out of your pussy at this point and you’d had the audacity to first compare him to a raindrop, and now a grain of sand. He’d have to do something about that mouth of yours.

He spread your legs wide in an instant. “I’d like to see you try, kitten.” He split your pussy open on two fingers, cum spilling out of your slit as he pumped them in and out. “Come for me. Again and again.”

Shit, you thought to yourself, biting your lip. This wasn’t what you wanted when you’d goaded him on. You were just so cum drunk you were hoping to spurr him into coming for you more. You wanted him to soak your bed so much it started feeling like a water bed. You weren’t expecting him to turn the tables on you.

He curled his fingers, thrumming the patch of nerves that always made you choke.

“Sy!” You groaned.

“What is it, kitten? Can’t do it? Talked too big of a game?” He smirked, fingers still relentlessly plunging into your wet heat.

You swallowed. “It’s, um…it’s not that…it’s just…”

“Just what?” He punctuated his words with a sharp thrust.

Your back arched off the bed. “Fuck!”

“Use your words, kitten,” He drawled, thumb coming up to circle your neglected clit.

You let out a whimper, eyes rolling back in your head. “W-Wanna… wanna come with you,” you pleaded.

“Poor kitten. You want my cock that badly, huh?”

You nodded your head vigorously.

He chuckled, low and dark. “It’s a shame I can’t give it to you. After all, its service has been so poor this evening, isn’t that what you said? I’ll have to find some other way to service you.” His pace picked up and he added a third finger, reveling in the way your cunt swallowed them down with ease.

“Won’t you show me what it looks like to properly come?” He teased, his words a purr in your ear.

You wanted to bite him, the insufferable man that he was. But your lips were too busy quivering from holding back moans as your second orgasm of the night washed over you. Your toes curled into the bed, legs squeezing tightly around his hand as you shuddered your way through the high. His fingers kept the same rhythm even with you squirming around him, never letting your release tiptoe out of reach.

When you finally finished gasping, he pulled his fingers out, flicking his tongue over them to clean them off. He feigned contemplation as he swallowed down your arousal, like he was some critic at a restaurant. “Not bad, but barely more than a grain of sand. Maybe two grains of sand. Thought you were going to show me something special, sweetie.” He grinned, his lips curled smugly.

You huffed. “Yeah, well, maybe you just didn’t do enough!” You protested. For a moment, you’d even forgotten that this whole situation was a monster of your own making, and that you’d originally intended for him to be the one coming. Because now you were just offended.

“Ohh. So I’m the issue. Interesting theory. Shall we test it out?”

Before you could answer -before you could even realize your mistake- he dove in, tongue barrelling through your entrance. His nose nudged against your clit as he inched deeper, devouring every ounce of arousal you had to offer him. Of course, he swallowed loads of his own cum too, and for a moment, he contemplated pulling back to show you just how much of his cum was on his tongue. Prove he’d given you more than a ‘drop.’ But then he felt your hips stutter as you fucked yourself on his tongue, your lust rising, and he could practically smell the sin radiating off of you. It was intoxicating. He wouldn’t dream of stopping now.

He flicked his tongue in every direction, smirking against your cunt when he felt your walls shiver against him. God, you were going to taste so good when you finally stopped fighting him and just came in his mouth. He continued to lap you up hungrily like he’d never eaten a day in his life.

And there it was again. That tingling sensation that had begun to build in your core. That rumbling between your legs that only grew with every demanding stroke of his tongue. Your orgasm had begun dancing into view again just like it had before. But…something was different this time.

This time…oh god…this time you felt like you had to pee.

You began crawling back up the bed, in attempts to pull away from him, but you didn’t get very far. His hands shot out and pinned your hips to the bed. He was starving and you were interrupting his meal. He couldn’t have that.

“Wait-Sylus!” You wanted to explain yourself. You weren’t pulling away from him, you just didn’t want to piss in his mouth. You wanted to tell him he felt good. He felt amazing. He felt like Heaven in a bottle. But then his tongue licked up your clit, his fingers sliding back into position, and you came for him, hard.

The air was knocked from your lungs and your vision went white as the ecastasy tore through you, limb from limb. And then your pelvis jerked forward and you squirt all over his face like a flood.

When you had finally finished, you slowly pulled your legs apart to examine his expression.

He was completely stunned still, his face dripping as he processed this new information.

You cleared your throat.

“So…um…I’d say that counts as more than a drop, yeah?”

Taglist: @pixelcafe-network @tbaluver @wifeyofsylus

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thestrugglewithin · 5 hours ago

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Vessel x Reader

Idiots very much in love. How an accidental hickey and an argument gets way out of hand. Mdni!

A/N: This has been collecting dust in my drafts and I’ve decided to admit that I lost the motivation to work on it any further. So have this mini angsty fic of our beloved Vessel <3

You’ve always been quite cheeky with your antics, especially when it came to Vessel. One time, you even swore that you just couldn’t help it; he was irresistible, after all.

Oftentimes he’d fix you with a look that said he was unimpressed, but you knew better. Vessel believed that you must’ve hung the moon, so his adoration could never falter. His mind behaved differently whenever you were involved.

This time was different, though. You really hadn’t meant to leave such a distinct mark on him, certainly not one that was so plainly visible. Never in a million years would you have imagined he would be so worked up about it. And really, you hadn’t even noticed it before he so urgently brought it to your attention.

Which was where you found yourself now, sandwiched between him and the wall of the venue he’d perform in tonight. His presence had never been intimidating, not before this moment. But he was acting so unlike himself you couldn’t help but to back up a bit.

“So you didn’t think it was necessary to tell me before we left the room?”

You’d never seen him angry before. Frustrated, maybe. But not angry, and certainly never towards you. “I didn’t notice, Ves. Obviously, or I would’ve-”

“How could you not notice? I seem to be drawing every eye in the room,” he shot back. His attitude begged the question of why a hickey had him so bent out of shape, but you knew him well enough not to bite back at this moment. It couldn’t have anything to do with the ever-present company you two were among whilst on the road– your relationship was no secret. It was hard to keep it completely private given the circumstances, but this was the first time that you felt like that was a problem. He certainly had never bothered to keep his affections to himself where you were concerned. So where on earth was this attitude coming from?

You resisted the urge to bite back at him, knowing it would do very little to ease the tension between the two of you. “You’re drawing eyes right now because you’ve backed me into a corner and are speaking to me rather unkindly.” Sure, you didn’t want to escalate whatever was going on here, but no way were you just going to roll over and take it.

At this, he straightened up his posture, like he became aware that you were still in a hallway full of people. People you’d be seeing on a daily basis for another month, at that. “Maybe consider some self-control from time to time,” he huffed. “No need for us to act like animals.”

Oh, he was lucky you were painfully aware of your surroundings. All thoughts of attempting to be the bigger person went right down the drain. There was a string of endless curses you could have choked on when attempting to swallow them down.

But you knew Vessel. Loved him more than your own heart could fathom. This was not him, and you were no stranger to the idea that there was something else going on inside his head. There was no telling what, though, seeing as he decided to snap at you over a hickey instead of just telling you what was up.

His words took straight to your heart though, and you let them settle. If he didn’t want you leaving your trace on him, of course you would respect that. He meant the world to you, after all– you’d do anything he asked of you. Horrible efforts at communication aside.

You must have let on that you were done with the conversation, because he turned and stalked off towards the dressing room. It was for the best that you let eachother be for a while, you figured. Neither one of you seemed keen to argue back and forth. Maybe after the show he will have blown off enough of the steam that he was simmering in to have an actual conversation with you. Meanwhile you could be left alone to wallow in the sudden embarrassment that this situation had left you in.

You exhaled a shaky breath then. There was plenty of time for a talk back in the privacy of your shared hotel room. Or an argument, whatever it came to. Such matters should be handled in privacy, after all.

Whatever remained of the argument never came, though. And neither did any acknowledgement of the topic. You’d gotten back to the hotel room that night, continuing about as though the earlier part of your day never happened. You opted not to bring it up. There was a much more familiar Vessel sleeping next to you now, and that felt like enough.

Sweeping feelings under the rug is never a good idea, and you knew that. But it felt okay in the moment– and it certainly was the easier option.

It was easy until you had to put thought into how you were to handle your boyfriend going forward. Vessel had expressed a boundary to you, and you ached to be respectful of it. It was new and a little unnatural, but after a few days you fell into habits of giving him space until he initiated contact.

You realized that it had been a full week since your guys’ little hiccup, therefore a week since you’d had sex. It wasn’t intentional, not really. You craved Vessel like he was air, like he was an actual requirement to your survival– but the both of you were adults and perfectly capable of keeping it in your pants. You began to notice an aching in your heart whenever you were longing for him. You’d sat with your own thoughts long enough to convince your mind that the safest bet in your relationship was to just let Vessel take any initiatives.

This didn’t allow for much opportunity, though. He really did pour every part of himself out on stage, he rarely was left with much energy afterwards. He’d argued long ago that he could never be too deprived of energy when it came to you. ‘You light a fire within me, darling’ he’d cooed.

But your mind was not kind to you amidst these new feelings. The thought of trying to express your need to him and being rejected made your stomach churn. Pairing this with the fact that he’d made no effort towards you either was eating away at you.

Just as long as it’s not me who pushes too far again. You told yourself. Over and over and over again.

Vessel was in a particularly good mood tonight following the show. He was always pretty rambunctious with his guys, but the energy was definitely higher amongst the four of them right now.

Seeing him so lively brought a pang to your chest, right where your heart resided. It actually upset you how happy he seemed right now. And for what reason? You could have asked yourself that, if you weren’t already grossly aware of the answer. You’d been festering on hurt feelings for a week now. Whether it was still about the unresolved conflict, you weren’t sure. Maybe it was that you noticed his severe lack of attention towards you since you’d been advised to control yourself around your him.

Maybe it was that you were beginning to feel angry. Upset at him, not just upset. This distance was destroying you, could he seriously not feel it? Did it not eat away at him that the closest you’d gotten to each other all week was a goodnight kiss? It felt like each hotel room you found yourselves in, the less comfortable you felt in his presence. His presence was like home to you, but you were beginning to feel unwelcome.

This newfound insecurity of yours was proving increasingly difficult to ignore when Vessel laid over top of you for the first time in what felt like ages. He curled his back over top of you in his kneeled position between your knees, hands wandering lightly up and down your clothed sides. You were trying to focus on him, how much you missed him, how thankful you were that he was here with you and finally present in the moment, but your thoughts shattered the moment his lips met the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

It felt like an instinct when your head nudged him away.

You felt him falter, but only momentarily. His hands persisted, now moving to take hold of your waist lightly. A hum of satisfaction slipped past your lips just before you felt those lips again, this time sucking lightly just below your ear. That might’ve been your undoing, if you didn’t find yourself pushing his head away again.

He did pause this time. “Darling?”

Your hum of acknowledgement must’ve satiated his curiosity, because he did not speak further. Instead he slipped his hand beneath the fabric of your shirt, hands finding purchase on your soft skin. His head dipped and captured your lips with eager force. Your nails trailing up his arms and moving to thread between the hairs at the nape of his neck must’ve read to him as an invitation, because his head descended once more. You didn’t let him get far though before you were tugging his head back up, and this finally brought him out of the moment.

He sat back on his knees, peering down at you in confusion. “Why aren’t you letting me kiss you?”

It sounded like an innocent question leaving him, but it stirred those unresolved feelings of yours. Evidently allowing a week to pass by did you no favors in deciding to be adults about this situation. You felt your own pettiness clawing to come out.

“You literally just did.” Of course you knew what he meant, but you had to feign confusion. Suddenly you felt ready to play with fire. He only huffed in response. “Is that not what you just did?”

“You keep pulling me away,” he overlooked your attempt to be smart-mouthed. “Since when do you not like me kissing your neck?”

There was a very fleeting moment that you almost felt bad for what you were inevitably about to put him through. Still, you furrowed your brow. A confused pout might do you well, too. “Just didn’t want you to get carried away.. I thought we were trying not to leave marks.”

He made an obvious attempt not to scoff. He looked like he wanted to crawl out of his skin then. “You’re upset about that? It wasn’t really that big of a deal, was it?”

It was obvious now more than ever that he hadn’t paid your argument any mind since the moment that it had happened. You weren’t entirely sure what to do with that. You’ve been turning yourself in circles for days over it, and he might as well have forgotten about it altogether.

You hoped he would have begun to apologize with how upset you so clearly were, but his silence remained deafening. You fixed a glare on him instead. He sure made it seem like a huge deal in the hallway of that venue, so what changed? “It’s not a big deal,” you offered easily, although it was a lie. “But you seem to be having some self-control issues on your end.”

More silence. His face betrayed no sign of what was turning the gears in his head, but you knew they had to be in overdrive right now.

“That’s different, though,” he said helplessly– pathetically, even. This brought an incredulous laugh from where you still lay on the bed. How he managed to act so small while he was still knelt above you.

“In what way is it different, Vessel? You can do it to me but don’t want me to do it to you?”

You knew he didn’t actually have an argument for this matter. Not a good one, at least. But of course he persisted. “There are thousands of people that I stand in front of every night that would run rampant with conspiracy if they noticed something like that.”

You wanted to laugh again, but you rolled your eyes and moved out from under him instead. “You are covered in black paint on stage, Vessel,” you spit. “Do not try to act like that was the problem, you and I both know that whatever was wrong with you had nothing to do with me.”

You didn’t see him run a hand down his face or the cringe of remembrance of how he had treated you. You continued before he could come up with anything to say.

“But you know what? It doesn’t matter now what was up with you, because you decided to take it out on me. You chose to humiliate me in front of your entire crew.”

You heard him call your name, but you continued to work yourself under the already unmade covers, trying like hell to put space between the two of you. This was already a mess. You really should’ve insisted you talked about it after it happened. Or maybe brought it up some other way. No matter, because now you were even more upset and fighting tears while the man you loved only just now realized how upset you’d been.

You needed to sleep. The can was open, but now you were too upset to talk about it the way you knew you needed to. There was no doubt in your mind that it would only get worse if you continued now.

“Baby..” he crawled over to you, running his knuckles along your back.

“I don’t think it’s going to happen tonight, Vessel. I’m not really in the mood.”

You knew he didn’t like it when you said his name like that. If it wasn’t Ves, it was always a pet name. Normally you’d only do so to tease him, to get him to fake his annoyance and “punish” you in return.

He slithered down now, placing his chest close to your back, his hand coming to lay a featherlight touch against your hip. “Please don’t go to bed upset.”

Vessel usually wasn’t one to just let stuff go, and bless him, sometimes he did need to be told twice. Your silence gave him the nerve to curl his arm around your stomach, moving just a little bit closer. It must have finally clicked just how upset you were, so his lips descended to press against the back of your neck, the way he knew you loved.

“Get off of me,”

He stiffened behind you but made no effort to move. You knew how wrecked your voice must have sounded. Your throat was on fire, and it felt like it was going to close any minute. He was about to crack your resolve without even trying. “Vessel, move.”

“No.”

“No?” you questioned. You didn’t make an attempt to move from his grasp, but you turned just enough to address him. “So you tell me to control myself around you, and I oblige.. But I tell you to get off of me and all I get is ‘no’?” You couldn’t actually meet his stare to give him a proper glare in this position, but you damn well were going to try. “Got it. You’re a hypocrite.”

“I don’t want you to go to bed upset,” he whispered.

“I’ve been going to be upset for a week now, I think I can survive another night.” You felt his sigh against your skin, but he relented and pulled his arm from around you. That was as far as he went, though, and he offered no response. “You can sleep on the other side of the bed so we can talk about this in the morning.”

“Don’t sleep alone,” his voice was soft, pleading. It cracked you a little bit, but not enough for him to notice.

“Move away from me unless you’d prefer that I sleep on the couch.”

It was with obvious reluctance when he finally moved away from you. He didn’t go far enough that his body heat didn’t still radiate over to you. You knew it would be torture for him though. Not that it didn’t tear you apart inside as well, but you really believed that this would do you both well to sleep before sorting this out. His stubbornness to leave you alone was admittedly endearing, and you silently cursed him for it.

It was silent for a moment before you heard his soft call again. “You won’t really sleep on the sofa, will you?”

“As long as you think you can stay over there.”

Well of course he wouldn’t be able to do that. It was natural the way his body longed for you. You were meant to fit together. It felt wrong to have this much space between you.

Oh, how you wanted him to hold you. You’d never be able to sleep like this, not with him right next to you. Your stubbornness persisted, though. You had to talk this through, and you figured caving into your need for him and choosing to ignore it for another night would do no good.

He sighed loud enough that you heard him- felt him, even. It took every fibre of your being not to roll over to face him. Instead you opted to close your eyes and try to steady your breathing. Sleep would find you eventually.

It did find you eventually, but not for very long. There was no way to tell how long you’d been asleep, but the fatigue in your body led you to guess an hour at most. You lifted your head trying to adjust your position, but you caught your boyfriend looking at you.. From the floor.

Immediately, you frowned. “What are you doing?”

His head lowered, like he was guilty. “Couldn’t sleep”

“Did you even try?”

“No.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes and sighed. He’s lucky you think he’s cute, “Get in bed and go to sleep,” all he could do was stare back at you. He made no effort to move. “You have to perform tomorrow. You’ll never make it through if you don’t sleep.”

“I don’t want to sleep without you.” He whispered. His long fingers were absentmindedly tracing the seam of the cushion he had his head on a moment ago. “I can sleep right here. I can be closer without being too close.”

“No, you can’t. You’ll fuck your neck and your back up.” This whole ordeal had brought upon a new level of stubbornness you didn’t even know existed in him. You didn’t want to admit that his persistence made your tummy flutter, even though you felt bad that he’d been sitting on the floor watching you sleep.

“I can lay down,”

“Vessel,” you groaned. God, he made it so hard to be mad at him. You weren’t going to let the entire thing go, not so easily. But you loved him and under no circumstance would you ever fail to take care of him when he needed you to. “I am asking you to get into bed. Please. You cannot stay on the floor.”

“Can I hold you?” He had tears pooling, just waiting to spill over. Oh, your sweet (albeit oblivious) boy.

“Ves, baby,” you called to him so softly. Not unlike the gentle grip you coaxed his head into. You tugged gently until he took the hint to stand and crawl into the bed right beside you. You scooted back to accommodate his form. He’d only just settled down, his face so close to yours when you took the opportunity to kiss away one of the tears that had fallen. Your thumbs caught the ones your lips didn’t.

With much hesitation his hands finally gripped your hips, the way they’d been itching to all night. His eyes closed while he breathed you in, fighting back a sob that choked in his throat.

“Shh, don’t wreck your voice by crying,” he nodded so you knew he heard you. “We’re going to be okay, you know that. We’re just gonna have to work this one out. I promise it’ll take a lot more than one argument to tear me from you.”

He nuzzled his face at the base of your throat and made an effort to settle his breathing. Even after all of this, you're still here looking after him. But he nodded his understanding and gripped you tighter. “I don’t think I deserve you,”

“Ves,” you warned. He knew how you felt when he talked poorly of himself, no matter the anger you held for him not too long ago. “We’ll talk and apologize in the morning. Right now you need to rest.”

You smoothed your hand over the back of his head, waiting until you felt his body loosen a bit. A few kisses were placed on his head, and he finally spoke.

“I love you,” he managed. “I am not one to overlook my blessings– so I need you to know that you are my greatest one.”

“You know that I love you– I’ll love you through everything.”

You lay in silence for a minute or two, your fingers absentmindedly combing through his hair. He’d been so still you figured he had finally fallen asleep. Of course, you really should’ve known better– this was Ves, after all.

“I used to wonder around, trying to wrap my head around the idea that you’d actually allow me to kiss you,” his voice sounded muffled with the way he had his face pressed into your chest. “And that you wanted to kiss me back,” his head shook like he was trying to convey genuine disbelief. “And now I’ve made you think I don’t want your affections. Please know that I do. I don’t think I could ever make it if I had to go on without you to love me.”

You did manage to breathe out the smallest laugh then. “I would take a bite out of you if I could, Ves. Don’t ever think I don’t want to be all over you.” You could feel his smile then. “We’re fine, baby. You just go to sleep and I’ll be here ready to make up with you in the morning.”

He squeezed your waist one last time before he finally relaxed and allowed you to hold him. You might’ve laughed at how this came from him wanting to hold you, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#sleep token vessel #vessel #sleep token #vessel x reader #vessel x you #vessel fic #sleep token fic #sleep token x reader #vessel angst

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kisakunt · 6 months ago

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BABY TRAP? LIKE THE MOVIE WITH THE TWINS?

description… you two are meant to be. sealed by fate, star crossed lovers. you’ll keep each other around however you need to.

warnings… dark content! baby trapping! noncon! obviously they’re being baby trapped they say something trying to stop it. consensual sex. full penetrative sex.

a word from the writer… i’ve had this in the drafts for aWHILE. it’s about time. do yall still read dc? i’ll never stop supplying… are we too woke now?!

TRAPS YOU

you’re hot under him, and he’s making that face he always makes right before he cums. it’s like repetition; eyes blanked out, mouth ajar but not fully open, brows furrowed like he’s desperate— and it’s scary.

“baby,” the word is cut in two with how fast he’s going, tease of pain as he hilts into your cervix with every thrust. “baby, you’re not wearing a condom.” your voice is uneasy, shaky from the movement and pleasure and build up. you think, in a way, the way you have sex is unfair. he gives you so much, orgasm after orgasm, rubbing your clit as he drills you to the point you go fucking stupid.

you feel safe with him. sex is sacred with him, no matter how sick it gets. but right now, with your calves pressed into his shoulders, his hands pushing your thighs impossibly back, you feel uneasy.

“baby, baby, pull out.” he gasps, sweat dripping down right near your eyes as a shaky groan escapes him.

“fuck,” a chaste kiss to your forehead, a shakiness in his movements, an unmatched rhythm as he gets closer and closer. “fuck. oh my, god. you feel so fucking good— so fuckin’ good.”

and so does he. but you’re scared.

“you’re gonna make such a good mommy, gonna be such a good mama. gonna— gonna give you my babies. gonna get you pregnant, gonna make you mine.”

“hey, wait,” your hands raise to his chest but he hits that angle that makes your eyes roll and they fall back. it feels so good you almost don’t care. “baby, baby, baby stop. baby, you gotta pull out.”

“you’re gonna be such a good mommy. gonna give you my kids. gonna give you my kids.” and it’s instant. it’s before you can even think— if you could anyway— it’s pressed so deep in you you betray yourself and cum, too.

he places his head to yours, kisses you greedy and whole, and whines into your mouth. it’s him, it’s real, it’s love. but— and you know this— it’s something so wrong.

“did you just…?” and before you can finish your question, he’s regaining his rhythm, fucking his cum into you with a half hard dick. it’s precise, it’s calculated, it’s intention.

he looks at you, eyes wide, breath heavy, and gives you a little grin. “gonna keep fucking you even when you’re pregnant, baby. gonna make sure i can keep you all to myself.”

GOJO, GETO, SUKUNA, YUJI

GETS TRAPPED

your legs hurt. you’ve been on top for all of thirty minutes, which you have no one to blame other than yourself. you love to edge him, love to get him so close and then take it all away from him. you think it gets him a little addicted.

but right now, as he squirms under you, losing every ounce of masculinity he’s ever had, something takes over you.

“gonna cum,” it’s breathless, short and sweet. “oh shit, i’m gonna cum.” you think he must think you’re edging him again. you think he’s expecting you to slow down, stop all together, pick up off him fully for ten or so seconds and then slam back down.

but you pick up the pace, grinding your hips into his, hitting his pelvic bone with your own as your hands grip at his pecs.

“wait, are you—” he falls apart under you, voice failing him, body failing him, hands only finding the strength to grip at your hips. “baby girl, i’m gonna cum.”

it’s melodic, tactile and articulate, a steady flow of bounces while your squelch fills the room.

“sweetheart, you gotta stop.” your right hand lifts from his chest to his mouth, shoving your fingers between his lips while he groans. he’s so easy to you, for you, because of you.

and then you feel it, milk it, relish in it— the way he comes undone at your touch, loses himself deep inside you. you don’t say a word about it, don’t think about it too much as you press your wet fingers to your stomach.

it’s a quiet giggle as reality washes over him. he looks cute, you can’t help but realize, panic and flushed under you. you’re sure of it then; he’s gonna be a sexy dad.

MEGUMI, NANAMI, CHOSO, TOJI

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irisinluv · 11 months ago

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Isekaied as the Yandere Villain!? Pt 2

Part one

It was almost 2 minutes before I realized I was still dragging the crown prince behind me. I quickly dropped his hand and looked at him, not able to hide the embarrassment on my face. Listen- I’m committed to the bit. I WILL be the crazy jealous fiancé. But… I’m still human ok. I just dragged a full grown man down several halls and a flight of stairs while I spaced out thinking about how I’m gonna buy my cat premium wet food once I get back home to her.

It’s fine, I’m not flustered at spacing out about my cat, my characters just flustered because she’s been holding the hand of the man she’s obsessed with, that’s all!

“Well…. Did you still want to dine and take that walk?”

I expected him to scold me for my mistreatment of Cressida, grow irritated from me dragging him along like this. Instead, he chuckles and threads his arm in mine, and begins escorting me down the hall.

“Absolutely, have you dined outside by the roses yet? There’s this lovely pavilion that I am eager to hear your thoughts on.”

And that’s how I found myself under an impressive array of roses, all trained up and around a cozy dining area, creating a canopy of green and pink over an intimate tea table. The food was equally impressive, I had to keep reminding myself that the other me is used to this lavish lifestyle, to not gawk at the fancy tiny sandwiches and deserts.

“Well? Is everything to your liking? ”

I’m going off script here, how am I supposed to know how the villainess would react to a romantic scene like this?? If my “evil crazy” side isn’t supposed to be directed at him, and she’s usually kinda distant and unsure around him…. That means I should probably respond pretty curtly, polite, yet not really engaging. But…. I’ve already messed that up…. I guess I can be more genuine when it’s the two of us like this. He can think that this version of me is the facade, that I’m pretending to be pleasant, and then will start to see what a jerk “I” truly am when Cressida’s around. Besides…. I almost feel bad for the villainess. She really just seems like she was shy. Who knows- maybe, if given the opportunity, she really would have opened up more. It’s clear she loved the prince, and just didn’t know how to show it. So, with that thought, I made up my mind.

“It’s breathtaking! Roses are my favorite flower, and I’ve never seen so many kinds in bloom at once…. Plus the food and company leave little to be desired.”

There you go- slip in some subtle flirting! I’m not quite sure what time period this is supposed to be, but I get the impression flirting as bit more high class here, and I think I can have some fun with that.

“I’m glad, to be honest I was a bit flustered asking you to dine with me… you caught me quite off guard today, but in a good way.” He reaches his hand across the table and places it on my own, “I’d like to do this more often, you and I. I feel like the confines of our current arrangement have left us practically strangers, despite being engaged for several months already. I’m enjoying just being companionable with you, even if it’s just existing comfortably in the same room.”

Ohhhh, I know I’m the villain in this story but I can’t help but root for him- what a sweetheart! It’s so obvious he’s been lonely, I can’t wait for him and Cressida to fall in love and have a couple of kids that they’ll spoil rotten. And in the meantime…. Maybe I do have a bit of evil in me, because I’m going to selfishly enjoy this handsome man treating me to lunches under roses and reading in cozy libraries while I can.

“I know exactly how you feel your highness. Now, you mentioned a walk?”

We spent the afternoon laughing and chatting, and it felt nice to chat without worrying too much about my role. He asked me about that book I picked out earlier, and listened attentively as I caught him up with where I’m at in the plot. In turn, I asked about what papers he’s been signing, documents he’s been drafting, etc.

The only thing I had to do was send glares to any young ladies we passed, settling my hand on his arm possessively, and I saw their eyes widen and faces disappear behind fans as they whisper to one another. I can picture this illustrated in a manhwa- the nasty princess sinking her claws into the gullible prince… hopefully all these ladies will start gossiping and we can really cement this evil persona of mine now that Cressida’s here.

When we returned to our separate apartments, I explored my rooms a bit until servants came to get me ready for dinner, and I slipped back into the frigid bitch persona. The servant girls dressed me in a slightly stuffy gown, but I had to admit, I looked gorgeous. I sat stiff and straight as they did my hair, forcing myself to be the very picture of cold indifference. I then dismissively thanked them for their help, then sat there awkwardly as they stared at me like I was crazy.

Ohhhh shit…. The original story hadn’t prepared me for this. My character was a villain, yes, but a side character for the most part! How was she supposed to act towards her servants? I went over what I knew- the novel showed the villainess alone quite often, usually obsessing over Eric and plotting/stalking. It showed her with Eric, and how distant and awkward their relationship was when together. And then of course the numerous scenes with Cressida where the Villainess did all sorts of heinous things to the sweet girl. But… it never depicted her with servants, or even any friends or other nobles. Just… Eric and Cressida. Was other me not actually a bitch all the time? Am I being unnecessarily rude right now? Oh god I’m such an idiot.

The story is told through Cressida’s point of view- of course there’s more depth to my own character than I initially thought! The Villianess must be a misunderstood introvert! Unsure of how to act around her crush, she’s fiercely insecure and jealous of this new girl who doesn’t struggle the same way she does. When she notices the prince slipping from her grasp, she acts out against Cressida because she can’t bear to lose Eric!

As someone’s who’s worked minimum wage jobs and struggled with social anxiety most of my life, I try to be nice to the people just working to survive, but here I am acting like these poor women are the dirt beneath my shoe…. Ok. Um. Well they’re still standing there in shock, I can fix this….

“You really did a lovely job… my hair has never looked so gorgeous, you’re truly talented! And I think the prince will be very pleased with this choice of ribbon!”

There- I was nicer, and I brought it back to Eric, so I’m still the lovesick fiancé whose entire world is waiting for her in the dining room. I frowned as the servants scuttled out of the room with hurried excuses, all of them looking like they were about to faint. Damn it… I can’t believe I misread the relationship between us. I probably just ruined their night by being uncharacteristically rude. I’ve gotta learn their names next time…. Maybe ask them to help me eat some fancy pastries as an apology…?

I didn’t know it, but while I was lamenting how wrong I was about the Villainess’ character, the servants were all gossiping to the others about what had just transpired.

“You’re telling me she said THANK YOU!?”

“Yes!!! And then you should have seen how nervous she got! She just rambled, blurting out such a sweet compliment, and she even tied it back to the prince!”

“I had no idea how precious she was… I can’t believe I never realized she’s just shy! In a new place, all alone aside from her new fiancé…. Who I gather she’s got a bit of a crush on! Poor dear.”

“Ohh our sweet girl, I’m sure it must be hard bonding with the prince, when all you do is sit yards apart and hardly speak …”

“Well I may have some news about that… and it’s no wonder she was a bit flustered today, because I saw the two of them in the gardens today! They were both nothing but smiles- absolutely smitten with one another!”

“Such a lovely girl, and we never knew it all this time!”

Apparently, I had it backwards. The real villainess truly was a 2D, basic character. She was insecure and possessive over the prince, bullying Cressida half to remind her who Eric belonged to, half for the fun of it. But she didn’t let on to anyone about the true depth of her love for him. She didn’t gossip to her handmaid, didn’t ask the servants which dress he would like better. Simply acted as if they did not exist, hardly saying a word to them.

While I thought my blunt “thank you” was colder than they were used to, and then tried to smooth things over…. It was more words than they’d heard from me in the whole time I’d lived in the palace. They lapped it up and declared me their own shy little dove after that.

When I arrived to dinner, I realized why daily dinners weren’t exactly a bonding activity for the villainess and Eric. The table was massive, and only held two chairs, one at either end. It felt so…. Cold?

Eric had beat me there, and quickly stood up from his seat, waiting until I sat and a servant pushed in my chair to retake his own seat. He smiled at me and said,

“Good evening, princess.”

He had to project his voice slightly. It wasn’t like he was shouting or being loud, it was just the manner of speaking you use when talking to an elderly relative, clearer, and enunciating better so they could hear you.

I replied back, projecting my voice similarly, and found the conversation was, in fact, more awkward than it had been earlier. We ate our food mostly in silence, occasionally one of us would say something and the other would stop moving their utensils on their plate, listening closer as they ask,

“What’s that?”

By the time dinner was over and we each went to bed, I felt drained. I could have just been louder I suppose- but it’s so hard to keep up a conversation like that. I know we get along- we had chatted all afternoon after all. But some part of me realized it’s probably good to keep a bit of distance between us, even if I’ve rewritten things to be a bit chummier between the two of us. Cressida needs to swoop in and steal him from me… and my job is still to leave that room for her to do so.

It’s hard trying to be someone else, yet also making sure you lead the plot in the right direction- it’s exhausting! I feel like both director and actress!

It’s with this in mind that I launch myself into the softest bed I’d ever felt, and passed out. My first day as princess consort, the Yandere fiancé, complete.

While I was getting acquainted with my feather bed, Eric was speaking with the head waitstaff.

“Yes, tomorrow, would you mind adjusting the seating situation? I’d like for the princess consort and I to be closer together from now on. Yes, and ask my assistant to arrange my schedules like so, I’ve detailed it here. Thank you.”

At the same time, Cressida was recounting her run in with the prince and I to her handmaiden as she finishing unpacking and settling into her family’s guest apartments. Which, unbeknownst to me… was right across the hall.

Series discontinued- sorry my loves. Ik y’all wanted more but the good news is that I’ve seen several really talented authors picking up this idea and executing it wayyyy better than my sporadic mood writing ever could.

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chuluoyi · 2 years ago

Text

LOVER'S QUARREL

- fushiguro megumi x reader

“i can't do this anymore.” you and megumi are just too different; he's stoic, you're bubbly, he prefers solitude, you love being social. it starts with fights, words you don't mean, and ends with an event that would haunt him for a long time to come.

genre/warnings: angst, breaking up, post-breakup feelings, mentions and description of injury and blood, hurt/comfort, fluff in the end (you make up!)

note: dear god i’m finally getting this out of my drafts. loosely inspired by real life events i’ve seen around my friend’s relationship sooo it might hurt a bit 🤏🏻 but who can say no to angst to eventual fluff? tagging @lees-chaotic-brain and @kasumitenbaz (as per request in the ask!), you two are always here for my megumi works, thank you!! :3 and thank you for dropping by for the event!

a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT

general masterlist

Everyone pointed it out as a joke, that you liked him way more than he did you.

And you used to never let it ruffle you. To you, Megumi’s sternness and silence meant that he was comfortable with you. You never wanted him to change his ways just because now you were seeing each other.

But when you thought it over now, as you stood before him with an aghast expression and knives stabbing your kind, soft heart, you couldn’t help but do a double-take.

You were the one who confessed first. Most of the time, you were the one who initiated dates. You always texted him first, asking about his day, and even when he brushed you off, you would keep being this ball of sunshine and wished him a good day.

You never realized it before… that through everything, it has always been you. Unfailingly.

So how dare he spout this now?

“I can't do this anymore.”

"You... can't?" you spat out, feeling the first tendrils of anger course through you. "What exactly it is that you can't do? What do you even mean?"

"Look," Megumi stared at you squarely, and you thought now, that it was the coldest of eyes, straight and true. "It's always been like this between us lately. It's only right that we end this."

This, he said. He didn't even want to define your relationship anymore.

You scoffed. "And why do you think we always end up this way? Have you ever considered, even once, that it's because you make no effort at all?"

"I'm trying," Megumi quickly replied, almost in a hiss, and you almost recoiled. "But I just see that we'll end up nowhere, that's why I'm bringing this up now."

Oh, that freaking hurts. You boyfriend had just told you that this relationship would go nowhere. Right in your face.

Your eyes stung with tears, yet you fought to hold them back, fixing your gaze on the lamp overhead and inhaling deeply.

"You're... selfish," you stated, filled with ire. "You're always walking around eggshells around me, never telling me what is it that you really want—"

Megumi's unclouded eyes fixed on your trembling form. "We just disagree on a lot of things. You know it and it bothers you. It bothers me too. Rather than forcing our relationship, I think it's better—"

"It's always me!" you yelled then, lips quivering and eyes watering, unable to hold your emotions back any longer. "All dates, lunches—everything!" you locked your eyes with him, in mocking disbelief. "How can you say you're trying when, in truth, I'm the one putting in so much for us?!"

In that very second, Megumi thought that he hated seeing you like this. You were supposed to be the cheerful one in this relationship, and when he agreed to go out with you, he made an unspoken commitment to himself that he would at least not make you miserable.

And yet...

"...I'm sorry."

Came his reply, and you were sure that this was it.

And to rub the salt in your wound, he added, "I can't lie to you and say I haven't thought this for a while too."

As tears welled within you, you wondered and questioned what you lacked that led to this. However, the overwhelming sense of betrayal consuming your thoughts ultimately prevailed over any other emotions.

Now he could've appeared before you as a stranger and you wouldn't bat an eye, as the cold steel in his tone said, "And if blaming me is what it takes to make you feel better, then so be it."

You couldn't pinpoint the source of your sudden boldness, but in the next hot minute, you marched past him, your shoulder harshly colliding with his in a deliberate, almost spiteful manner—which, indeed, was your intention—and then you ran.

Which led to the next scene: you found yourself bawling your eyes out in the girls' lavatory.

Yuji and Nobara saw everything unfolding right before their eyes. They hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but you and Megumi were literally breaking up right the middle of their shared classroom, and it was hard not to follow the discourse until the end.

"Are you okay?" Nobara had come to your side, ensuring privacy by locking the restroom door out of your consideration. You were a sobbing mess, attempting to wipe the overflowing tears away while letting out all your emotions.

"He's..." Your voice faltered amid sobs as you gazed at your steadfast friend, your throat clogging up. "He said... he's been wanting t-to... break up with m-me..."

"That's okay, that's okay..." Nobara brought you to her arms, patting your back in reassurance. "Fushiguro is insensitive like that... don't cry over him now. He's just a wimp, okay?"

"Why is it me?" you asked her, voice brittle, still shaking with tears. "I t-tried everything! Being the supportive girlfriend..."

"If he can't appreciate what you did, then the problem lies with him," your friend stated, traces of irritation brewing in her resolute gaze. And as she firmly grasped your wrist, her next words resonated. "Not you."

. . .

"Do you really have to break her heart like that?" Yuji fidgeted with his hoodie, staring at his best friend with a blend of confusion and sympathy.

Megumi sighed, finally ruffling his hair into a mess, as if expressing his own state of mind. “This is for the best.”

Yuji’s eyebrows visibly creased. “How is this ‘for the best’? She’s miserable, and you…” he assessed him, scanning him from head to toe, “it doesn’t seem you’re faring any better too.”

“The longer she is with me, the unhappier she will be.” Megumi glanced at the bathroom’s direction. “She can deserve better.”

He was always too quiet, too boring, not able to match your energy too. He couldn’t fault you for expecting more, whereas he was just not exactly built for your expectations.

Megumi really thought he wanted it to end. At one point, it even felt like a chore, but…

How strange. Why did it feel like something was clawing at his chest?

Time heals. Megumi knew that by theory, but he really did see it firsthand when he saw you all giggling and happy again three weeks after he initiated the breakup.

With Hakari.

“Yo, what are you glaring at?” Panda asked, but Megumi didn’t pay him any mind.

An upperclassman, Hakari Kinji, was naturally cool and talented. He was laid back, knew how to have fun—all in all, a total opposite of Fushiguro Megumi altogether.

Three weeks. It’s only been three weeks since then.

“Megumi?”

Wait… Aren’t three weeks too fast to get over your ex?

“Megumi!”

“Huh?” he turned to the sentient panda with a jerk. “Oh, what is it?”

He looked at him with a concerned gaze. "Why do you look so scary? It's almost as if you're about to punch someone..."

But who was he to argue? He had no right to be upset now.

"Is it Kinji?" Panda gasped, finally putting two and two together when he followed his line of sight. "Oh Megumi... but you—"

"Just shut up, please," he blurted then, a hint of annoyance in his tone. With that, Panda didn't pursue it further, leaving him with his thoughts.

From where he was at the field, he could clearly see your radiant smile for Hakari. It was clear that the two of you shared a degree of friendship, but Megumi never knew that you two were that close.

...huh?

Why did the sight irritate him so suddenly? Why did his chest twinge again?

What a fool. You're the one driving her away, you idiot.

Suddenly these memories popped up one by one—

Of you suddenly hugging him from behind in an attempt to surprise him.

How he pressed his lips on the crown of your head when you fall asleep on his shoulder.

How you would give him that dopey smile when he pulled you close.

But on harder days after missions gone wrong, he’d ignore you altogether— the slight disappointment in your smile then. How your expression fell when he told you to go. How you slumped and looked back in hopes of him changing his mind.

“Haaaah.” Megumi turned away, unwilling to keep watching you any longer. Why? Why hadn’t it occurred to him before now?

Why did he long for you now? Why not before, when you were still his?

They were right. It seems people tend to desire what isn't meant for them.

What could have been more painfully awkward than being sent into a mission with your ex-boyfriend?

You would kill Gojo for this. Or at least give him the lowest possible score in his teaching evaluation for the year. How could he? Your breakup was an infamous public spectacle, so this setup was undoubtedly intentional!

You were losing your head over this, and yet your ex-boyfriend...

"Keep your guard up," Megumi reminded curtly, in a warning tone. He looked as vigilant and straight as always, as if he wasn't even bothered.

You threw him a dirty look, offended. "You don't have to tell me twice."

This just cranked up the discomfort to an excruciating level. The mix of unresolved tension and memories—okay, you might be an emo, but how were you supposed to be cool with all of these hanging in the air?

Your site of exorcism was an abandoned warehouse, and the cursed spirit in question was supposed to be a grade 3. You two were grade 2 sorcerers now, so you were a perfect fit to exorcise it. But there was indeed this unease in the air that you couldn't put your finger to.

"Isn't it awfully too quiet?" you unwittingly muttered, staring at the darkness of the wall. You couldn't feel any cursed energy belonging to any possible malevolent entity, and that was what unsettled you the most.

Megumi frowned at your line of sight. "It is. Stay close."

You blinked at what he said, and before you knew it, the familiar scent of him being near to you made your entire body burst with this equally familiar warmth. When you looked up to him, seeing the solid sharpness in that dark eyes of his and his jaw set, dead butterflies in your chest rose back to life again, against your heartbreak and better judgement.

Stay close, he said... So he is worried...

And in an attempt to hide how flustered you were, you looked down.

You walked a few good steps, when suddenly he asked, "So, are you with Hakari-senpai now?"

"Huh?" You spun around, your expression a mix of surprise and confusion.

"You two seem close."

Seem close? Seem close... wait, so Megumi had noticed...?

Suddenly, you felt incited and it made you angry. "That's none of your business," your voice carried a sharp edge, hissing. And you knew you were being a bit mean by adding, "You broke up with me, so why do you even care?"

In that moment, Megumi could've sworn his chest throbbed. Your cutting tone pierced directly into his heart, lodging itself there.

You had all rights to be annoyed, and he knew that. Why did that question even slip out of him?

"Nah, nevermind," he mumbled in response, looking away.

Awkwardness lingered afterwards. You hated this, but no, you weren't above being petty. He had broken your heart and it still stung even now. If your intentionally biting words did to him even a fraction of what he made you feel, then you would find a small sense of satisfaction in it.

But you weren't able to ponder about your mess of feelings further when Megumi abruptly yanked your arm, his voice soaking with urgency, "It's here!"

Sure enough, the grotesque cursed spirit with the shape of a giant bee broke through the walls with a bang. The two of you immediately readied your fighting stance. Megumi was ready with his divine dogs, while you with your cursed weapon.

For a while, you engaged the cursed spirit with all you had. You were trying to focus on the enemy, but you couldn't help but notice the way Megumi always looked at you every few seconds, checking for any signs of injury or harm.

Frankly speaking, he trusted your strength and knew that you were a capable sorcerer. You had been paired in a mission before and he knew both your potential and shortcomings. It was just there was something about this place that had his senses on high alert.

And his fears were proven true when you yelped and were flung onto the grimy floor. "Y/N!"

"I'm fine!" you shouted in a rush, scrambling to your feet. However, as you spun towards him, your scream tore through the hall as you caught sight of the bee lurking behind him. "Megumi!"

He got distracted. The bee quickly latched onto him and almost stung him, until he wrestled it off and summoned Nue and exorcised it.

You went to his side that instant. "Are you okay?!"

"I am." But then he winced and almost fell on his knees if you didn't have a secure grip on him. He savored your touch and breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that now you two were safe.

"Megumi! Oh god!" Panic surged through you as you pulled him close. His side was bleeding, and you widened your eyes at the sight.

"I'm okay, I promise," he rasped, looking you in the eyes. "What abo—"

Then you saw it, the flicker from deep from that corner of platform, and suddenly, you grasped the source of the unease that had been lingering within you all this time. It wasn't the bee Megumi had just exorcised—

At that moment, there was no room for thought, one thing was certain: you didn't want him to get hurt more.

He didn't manage to finish his sentence when suddenly you pushed him away with so much force he never thought you had. Everything crashed so suddenly, he didn't have the time to brace himself or grab you with him, as another cursed bee appeared out of nowhere and—

Reality flashed before his eyes as he stared at you in sheer horror. At how the cursed spirit tore your body, sinking its hollow stinger in you.

You didn't really know what happened next. Everything was muffled—the frantic movements around you turned into a blur, along with Megumi's yells. Otherworldly pain coursed through your entire being and your ears rang, then everything in your line of sight became distorted and faded, along with your consciousness. Next and the last thing you knew was Megumi's battered face, a final imprint before you succumbed to the void.

Megumi had exorcised the remaining cursed spirit and staggered to his feet—falling a few times, but he made his way towards you through gritted teeth. You are hurt. He forced himself to get to you and pull you into his arms.

And suddenly, suddenly, nothing mattered anymore as overwhelming terror consumed him upon seeing you. Blood streamed from your abdomen so much that it made a continuous pool.

"You stupid—!" He choked out, voice hitching. You were no longer conscious and it devastated him even more. "Hey, hey? Wake up—hells—"

You, who did everything you could to save your relationship. You, who cried tears for him when he blatantly broke your heart. And you, who put himself first—and now facing the consequences.

It crashed upon him in that very second, the clarity. What was he thinking back then? He still loves you.

"If you die on me, I won't forgive you."

Megumi scooped you in his arms, pressing you close to his chest, the blood seeping from his wound be damned as he looked at your serene face. His heart shattered in the worst way possible and he almost wheezed at the sticky sensation of your blood—and how lifeless you felt in his grasp—but he willed it away.

"Don't," his broken rasp echoed the walls as he took each step to get both of you out of this hellhole. He winced and hissed at his own injury, chewing his lip in frustration, at how helpless he was.

"Don't leave me."

It was like a distant, hazy memory.

Was it a memory though? No. It seemed far too real for that.

The throbbing headache pounding through your skull and shivers that wracked your body pulled you back to reality. There was a heavy pressure on your abdomen and any movement sent sharp pain shooting through you.

You gradually opened your eyes, squinting against the brightness. You were in a hospital gown, an IV was injected on your arm, and the sterile scent made your stomach twist, as nausea creeping through your guts. Your vision was still blurry as you tried to look around to find someone who waited for you. As you slowly turned your head to the side, you saw him, sitting in the chair right next your bed.

Megumi was sleeping in such uncomfortable position, his head resting on the edge of your bed. He appeared peaceful, almost childlike, devoid of his usual stoic demeanor.

Your heartstrings were tugged at this rare sight. He also sustained injuries and yet... he was waiting for you to wake up, here.

Your chest swelled with warmth, which was quickly followed by a sting of heartbreak. Still, you two broke up...

You jolted, and the inadvertent movement sent a wave of pain that seemed to paralyze your nerves, causing you to whimper. The noise woke Megumi from his slumber, as he shot his eyes open in alarm, catching your hand in his.

"Hey... Are you okay?" Megumi worriedly looked down at you with a visible frown, and the grimace of pain on your face, accompanied by trembling lips, was enough of an answer. He hastily scrambled out in slight panic, "I'll get Ieiri-san."

When Shoko came and got you the painkillers, your pain receded somewhat. Through it all, Megumi stood there, casting concerned glances in your way.

"Bedrest for the week," Shoko stated firmly, assessing your wound with a no-nonsense expression. "Your injury isn't minor—it's serious enough that you're strongly advised against excessive movement."

You could only nod in response. Megumi bowed. "Thank you, Ieiri-san." Once the doctor departed, silence settled over the room once more.

“Why did you do that?” he quietly asked then, referring to what you did for him. And when you turned to him, you saw it clearly.

He looked pale, and there was this haunted look in his eyes. It broke your heart a little.

"You were hurt." Your voice came out dry, and you realized firsthand just how parched you were. Seeing Megumi looking down never quite sat right with you. He was meant to be an unwavering presence, someone strong enough to sway your convictions.

However, a pang struck when he countered with stern eyes, "You didn't have to do that."

...he was right. You didn't have to. What he didn't know was that you were still holding on these stupid feelings, which drove you to shield him. It made you ponder: if your roles were reversed, would he not step in to protect you at all?

"Why are you here?" You weren't sure if the bitterness in your tone was evident, but you continued anyway. "You don't have to be here either."

"Don't have to?" His gaze bore disbelief, as if not believing your words. "I'm—"

"If it's because I saved you, Megumi—"

“Do not even think, even for a moment, that I won’t be concerned over you.” His voice, deep and hoarse, struck you to the core, silencing your words. “Never. I always, always want you to be safe.”

Your mind became a blank slate. Suddenly, all that mattered was his voice.

"Don't you realize how terrifying it was? Seeing you like that?" Megumi spat, his green eyes shining with intensity, teeth gritted and fists clenched. "How could you even think that I wouldn't be here—" his breath hitched, and then his lips trembled slightly, "—for you?"

You blinked quickly, a feeling stirred within you—stemming from that cursed, fragile heart of yours to be exact, evident from the rapid thumping in your chest.

You dumbly uttered, "But we are—"

"Oh, Goddamnit." Megumi cursed, and honestly you were taken aback. It wasn't really in him to swear, so this really bugged him. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, and despite the situation, your heart skipped a beat at the sight. Even a mess in a hospital gown, your ex-boyfriend was still undeniably attractive.

He stared at you squarely in the eye, unflinching, steadfast and true, the very image of Fushiguro Megumi you admired from afar and fell in love with in the first place half a year ago. "You don't have to... say anything, if you don't want to. Right now... just hear me out."

And the things he said next... all of them, you could say, caught you entirely off guard.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not trying hard enough, and—damn it, for making you sad. I never, ever wanted to see you that upset."

Megumi drew in a sharp breath, averting his gaze. "And for days, I've wondered if you and Hakari-senpai are now a thing... and you know what? I hate it so much. I know I have no grounds to feel this way, after what I did, but..."

And like a train wreck, his final words hit you hard. Tears welled up in your eyes in immediate response.

“I'm a loser, and a coward too, maybe,” he shrugged, a tinge of self-deprecation in his tone. “And I suck at telling people my feelings, but I love you. I still do.”

A sob slipped out of your throat and you hastily pulled the blanket over your face, much to his surprise. He thought he had worsened things, with the way you were turning away from him.

But then, from beneath the blanket, in a croaky voice, you proclaimed, "Fushiguro Megumi, you're a complete and utter idiot."

And Megumi didn't know that he had been holding back his breath as he chuckled heartily, relieved that you would still take his ass back after this prolonged mess. He knew he still had a lot to make up for and was determined to show it through his actions.

"Maybe I am, yeah."

"That's possibly the longest shit you have ever spouted in one breath."

"Yeah..."

But he got his chance back, and he knew that you would be alright. Both of you are.

On one sunny day...

"Hey, are you alone?"

Megumi glanced up from his phone, only to be met with a random girl standing in front of him, batting her eyelashes with an ambiguous intent. He blinked at her curiously.

"No. Can I help you?"

The girl twirled her hair suggestively. "Ah, you see... I see you all in your lonesome and I think you're quite cute—"

The hell? Megumi frowned, and he was really about to give this bimbo a piece of his mind when—

Oh, oh. Forget that. Megumi's attention snapped to you on the opposite side of the crossroad. All pretty and dolled up with that crop tee and miniskirt he once mentioned would look great on you by a slip of tongue—that accidental comment earned him your teasing quips for weeks already.

"Sorry, I'm here for my girlfriend. Bye."

Abruptly dismissing the girl, he didn't catch how comically offended she was for being turned down in a span of 20 seconds. He took big strides towards you, as you crossed the street, and you immediately beamed when you caught the sight of his face.

"Megumi!"

Ah, this is going to be a good day, he thought. As he gazed at your pretty face, and caught your hand in his, clasping it tightly, reveling in your scent and the warmth of your presence beside him—

He was content, and once again it dawned on him, that he likes you so, so damn much.

"Let's get started on our date, shall we?"

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myfictionaldreams · 2 months ago

Note

Hey, I was wondering if you are still going to write for Natasha Romanoff x reader. If you are, imagine something where the avengers don’t know that they are together, until one of them (maybe Tony because he talks too much) sees reader with hickies and messy hair early in the morning after an intense night 🤭. And then maybe Natasha would be wondering why she’s taking so long away and comes in after. 🤭🤭🤭🤭

⁀➷ Classified // Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Summary: A quiet night at Avengers Tower turns into something much more intimate when secrets begin to unravel—and nothing stays hidden forever.

Requested by: I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to write! I've actually had this drafted for months and months, but I'm so glad to finally get around to finalising it.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, soft dom!Nat, sub!reader, doctor reader, secret relationship, marking (hickeys), hair pulling, minor injuries, fingering, oral, praise kink, protective nat, power play

Words: 2.4k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

Restocking the medical supplies was usually a monotonous task that dragged endlessly. Today, however, you completed the task with the precision of someone trying not to think about worst-case scenarios.

Gauze, antiseptics, sutures—each item slid into place like it could stop your hands from shaking. The mission was supposed to be routine—in and out. But they were late. No one had heard a word from the jet in hours.

While wiping down the already sterile and clean surface for the tenth time in the last two hours, you tried to avoid your colleagues’ quizzical looks, but your phone buzzed.

Heart thudding painfully in your chest, you snatched it up.

Natasha. Thank fuck.

You answers, relief flooding your chest. “Romanoff.”

“Mm”, came her voice, low and sultry. “I love it when you call me that. Makes me feel like a bad girl.”

Turning your back on the other doctors and nurses in the room, you tried to act casual, ignoring her remarks that had already caused heat to creep up your neck at her teasing. “How can I help you, Miss Romanoff? Are you in need of some medical assistance?”

Natasha laughs lightly down the phone at your professional response. “I need you to come to my room and check on me. My face has been missing its home between your legs.”

Her words caused an immediate reaction between your legs, your core tightening with arousal. Coughing to release some pent-up frustration, you tried to casually answer, “Your left knee? It hurts? Can you come to the hospital level, or do you need me to come to you?”

“You can come alright. I’m in my room. Alone.”

“I’ll be there shortly with my medical supplies.”

“That’s my girl.” The line went dead.

Pocketing your phone while turning to your colleagues, you tried to explain that you needed to attend to Black Widow’s knee. Slinging a medical bag over your shoulder, you tried to walk and not run like you wanted to out of the medical bay and into the elevator.

When stepping onto Avengers’ personal floor, you could see no other individual. Tentatively, you knocked once on her door before entering.

The room was dimly lit, and soft orange light from the setting sun cast through the ceiling-to-floor windows. Natasha, beautiful as ever, stood near her bed in just a sports bra and leggings. Her red hair was still damp from a quick shower, and the room was sweet from the scent of her body wash.

Those fierce green eyes clash with yours as you close the door.

“Shirt off”, she commands, her tone light but firm.

Blinking in response, you remark whilst dropping the bag onto the floor. “I thought I was here to check on you, baby.”

Natasha gives you her signature smirk. “You are. But I’ve missed you. And you’re wearing too many clothes for that, even though I love seeing you in those scrubs.”

Still, you stepped toward her first, fingertips brushing against her bare stomach that tensed at the action as you stared at the discoloured bruise along her left side. All excitement had quickly manifested into worry.

“How’d you do this?”

“Threw a guy over a railing. He didn’t go quietly. You know how it is.”

You sigh, pressing your palm gently over the bruised skin, checking how significant the bruising is. The lack of reaction from Nat was reassuring; you knew that her pain tolerance was higher than most of the US population.

“You need to rest. Ice. Maybe you shouldn’t be on your feet.”

She leans in, her voice a purr against your ear. “Then you’ll just have to keep me in bed, won’t you, Doc?”

There was barely any time to react before she was kissing you- hard and hot, like she’d been waiting days, weeks, too long. Her hands tangled in your hair, guiding your mouth open so she could taste you deeper. She tasted sweet, like cherries and gum.

Nat walked you backwards until your knees hit the bed. Collapsing onto the mattress, she’s quick to follow, straddling your hips with a predator’s grace.

It took entirely too long – seconds – for your shirt to be removed, but her lips are all over the moment it’s removed. From your neck, biting and licking, to your stomach, kissing and caressing with her tongue like she wanted to taste your entire body.

“You taste like antiseptic”, she murmurs against your skin, her admission not stopping her actions at all as she gently nipples on your collarbone, her fingers massaging your breasts through your bra. “And anxiety, did you miss me, hm?”

Tugging her closer, your nails dig into the flesh of her hips, “And you smell like trouble, baby.”

“Mmhm,” she hums in agreement, “but you love trouble, don’t you, Sugar?”

Her lips are on yours again with renewed hunger, but slower, like she savoured everything you had to offer. Your hands move to cup her arse, pulling her hips closer until you’re both grinding together.

“Let me take care of you for once.”

Natasha arched a brow. “You think I need taking care of?”

Flipping the two of you with surprising ease - meaning Natasha allowed you to do so - you hover over the assassin, taking a moment to admire the redness of her hair, mixing with the orange streaks of sun beaming through the window.

“You’re so fucking beautiful”, you breathe the words out as your fingers bring down the waistband of her leggings and underwear as she removes her own bra, leaving her completely naked beneath you.

While mindful of her bruised side, you eased her to the edge of the bed. Sinking to your knees, Natasha’s eyes darkened as she bit her lips, thighs spreading as you ease each leg over your shoulder.

“You’re going to ruin me, aren’t you?” she asks as she idly plays with her own nipples until they’re taunt, rosy and peaked.

You didn’t answer. Just pressed your lips to her inner thigh, slowly kissing your way upward. Her fingers laced through your hair, but her grip faltered when your mouth finally reached her. Tongue lickign up the length of her hairless pussy, adding pressure to slip betweens her softness to feel the firm, throbbing clit that drew out a choked sound from the back of her throat.

“Fuck,” she goans, her eyes closing and head tipping back.

You work her slowly. Needing to memorise her taste, the sounds she makes, the way her body moves from her hips, trying to dictate your movements by a subtle role, to the way her strong thighs nearly suffocate you between them.

“Don’t stop,” she rasps, the hand in her hair tightening to the point of pain. “God, baby, just like that.”

You were never going to stop, even if you couldn’t breath as your lips sealed around her clit. Two fingers slipped inside, curling in time with your pulsing mouth, the other hand pressing lightly above her pubic bone, attempting to keep her hips on the bed so you can have some form of control.

You watch, memsorised as her cunt begins to pulse around your fingers. Back arching, thighs unbelievably tight around your face, a moan so breathtaking that you’re sure your own arousal is now staining your scrubs with how turned on you were. She was utterly fucking beautiful.

Ever the dom, Natasha’s orgasm hadn’t even subsided fully before she’s pulling your body back onto the bed, swapping your positions so you’re lying against the sheets.

“That was dangerous,” she teases against your mouth, nipping your lower lip between her teeth until it snaps back to place. Now, I’m going to have to remind you who’s really in charge.”

Her slender fingers skim beneath your waistband, teasing and lingering.

“Say it”, she says against your throat. “Say you missed me.”

“I missed you.” Your voice quivers as her fingers finally dip lower, brushing beneath your underwear, touching exactly where you want her most.

She was always like this, dominant and teasing, but you’re always rewarded.

“That’s my girl, always so wet for me”, she compliments before sucking on the skin to the point of pain beneath your ear. You grunt at the mix of discomfort and pleasure as her fingers idly stroke over your soaked pussy.

There was no rushing Natasha, not when she’d been kept from you for so long. A small part of you worried that the other doctors and nurses would wonder where you’d disappeared, too, but all rational thoughts escaped you as she spread your labia, pressing her finger directly there.

One finger, became two, slipping inside as you gasped and arched into her, rolling your hips until her palm is pressing against your clit. With slow, deep curls, Natasha's fingers have your thighs trembling and breathy moans becoming desperate in no time at all.

All the while, she keeps her forehead pressed against yours, eyes locked on your face, studying every moan, every flutter of your lashes.

“God, look at you,” she whispers, voice rough. “Fall apart for me. Are you going to cum on my fingers, Sugar?”

You nod your head, whimpering as she applies more pressure to your clit. Bucking up and grabbing her shoulders. “Please - Natasha-!”

“I’ve got you”, she promises, lowering her face now until she’s biting your nipples through your bra in a sharp sting of pain.

You came with with a startled cry, your cunt pulsing around her fingers, sucking her in deeper, like your body never wanted to give up. She keeps the pressure, continues to curl her fingers as your orgasm draws on and on until you’re a pile of numbness, still half dressed from work.

Nat withdraws her fingers with slow movements, leaving you twitching in the sensitive area. Watching her movements, you groan deeply as she sucks her wet fingers into her mouth, tasting your juices with a pornographic moan, her eyes clossing as she savoures the taste.

She curls around you protectively, damp fingers brushing against your cheeks whilst kissing your temple, then your shoulder. Lazily dragging her lips down your neck, sucking another deepy hickey against your skin.

Groaning whilst half-laughing, “You’re marking me on purpose”.

She smiles against your skin. “Obviously. You’re mine.”

~~~~~~~~

Later, you were lounging on one of the couches at the tower’s low-key celebration, which was never really low-key when it came to Tony Stark. Thankfully, you owned a turtlenecked dress that was soft and comfortable on your sensitive, heavily marked skin.

Something Natasha noticed as she caught you in a dark crevice, easing away your neckline to admire her artwork with a bite of her full lips. That wasn’t all, though. Usually, at public events, the two of you would stay on opposite sides of the room, but tonight, Nat couldn’t help herself.

Frequently, she would walk back, her warm hand brushing the small of your back, her eyes watching your every sip, every shift in your chair; your secret girlfriend missed nothing.

Since then, the party has dwindled to only a handful of individuals, who are, for the most part, members of the Avengers or close friends.

“You know,” the billionaire loudly declared while holding up his glass of scotch. I know I’m a genius, and you guys never really appreciate it, but I’ve just cracked a code, and I need to share.”

Not thinking anything of it, you continued to idly sip from your drink, eyes flicking to the red-haired woman sitting across from you in the circle of couches.

“I know who’s been sneaking around like hormone-crazed teenagers.” Tony grins widely. You stiffen, eyes once more flicking to Natasha, who remains nonchalant. Her reaction has you calming. Of course, he wouldn’t know about you and Natasha. She’s an assassin; she could keep secrets, hide in plain sight, and, of course, your relationship was still hidden.

However, as your eyes moved back to the billionaire staring only at you, you knew nothing good would come from his next words. “Our very own medbay angel and Miss Romanoff. Caught the Doc here leaving her bedroom with messy hair and a constellation of hickets. Pretty classic evidence, honestly.”

A beat of silence followed. Every head turned to look at you. At Natasha. At the space between you.

All you can do is freeze. Not blinking. Not breathing. They knew. They all knew. The attention made your skin feel too tight, like your heartbeat had jumped outside your body.

It wasn’t just embarrassment—it was vulnerability. The intimacy you’d guarded for so long was exposed. It was no longer a private, secret thing. It was no longer yours and Natasha's alone.

Finally, dragging a deep breath in, the urge to flee the room came over you, but an enraged redhead stepped into your path. Her arms rested comfortingly on your upper arms, thumbs stroking in slow circles. The energy rolling off of her was unmistakable. She was protective, sharp, and unapologetic.

“That’s enough”, she said evenly, tone calm but laced with authority. “We kept it private for a reason, Tony.”

The man blinked, taken aback by the reaction from the room. “Hey, it’s not a bad thing-”

“She’s not a punchline,” Natasha continues to defend you. “And this isn’t gossip. I don’t want the whole world, including our enemies, Stark, knowing what she means to me. Understand?”

You felt her hand slip behind you, curling gently around your wrist, anchoring. But the tremble of anger was evidently there.

“Nat,” you whisper, stepping closer to her side as your heart hammered.

Turning away from her friends and colleagues, her features soften, eyes tracking every emotion written across your face. “You okay?”

You nod, even if you weren’t entirely sure.

She leans in, her breath tickling your eye. “You’re mine. And I’m not letting anyone make you feel small about it. Not even Stark,”

There was another beat of silence until Clint, of all people, groaned and toasted an empty beer bottle at Tony’s head. “It took you this long to figure that out? I’ve had fifty bucks on them for months.”

“Same,” said Sam, raising his hand.

Steve snorted, “I told you she wasn’t just icing her injury in the medbay.”

Tony looked around, betrayed. “You all knew?”

Bucky shrugged. “It wasn’t that subtle.”

Laughter filled your ears from those surrounding you. Natasha’s grip on your wrist eased, but her hand kept you close. Exhaling shakily, you watched the group ease back into their jokes and drinks, the weight slowly lifting from your chest.

When you glanced back at Natasha, she was already looking at you. She pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek. “Not a secret anymore. Now there’s no hiding that you’re mine.”

And somehow, that made it all ok.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff one shot #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x reader #mine*#marvel smut #black widow smut #black widow one shot #avengers smut #avengers one shot

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marvelwitchergilmore · 11 months ago

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Sleeping, Dancing and Mistletoe

Summary: Logan x Fe!Reader -> Times when people found evidence that you and Logan were possibly a couple, and the one time you both finally confirmed it.

Disclaimer: Mostly fluff, mentions/illusions to sex, Logan checking you out. Couple of swear words here and there. This has been unfinished in my drafts for at least a week so...yeah. This is finished. little Christmas at the end. Not Proof Read.

For what felt like the thirtieth time in the hour, you turned over with a huff and pressed your pillow to your ears, trying to muffle the sounds coming from next door.

And just as it finally died down, you sighed and was just about to thank some ancient being for hearing your prayers when…it started again.

“That’s it.”

Changing out of your longer pyjama bottoms and into some sleep shorts, you made your way out of your room, keeping your footsteps as quiet as you could until the noises faded away and you started to reach your intended room.

Opening up the door, you found exactly what you were looking for.

Shaking his shoulder as he lay on his stomach, you whispered his name, hoping he’d hear you.

“Logan.” You shook him for a third time. “Logan.”

Nothing.

With another sigh, you slapped his face gently and said his name once more, a little louder and firmer.

“Logan.”

Finally, he groaned. “What?”

His voice was muffled by his pillow but you could hear him just well enough. Or maybe you were just used to his grunts that they were starting to become their own language you could understand.

“Move over. I’m sleeping here tonight.”

“What’s wrong with your bed?”

“Nothing.”

“Then go and sleep there.” Logan turned his head away from you and scrunched up his pillow beneath his head.

“I can’t. My neighbours have decided tonight is Valentine’s Day 2.0.”

You pushed half of his body with your hands until he finally got the cue to turn over.

“Too much information.”

You shook your head, “Too much information is what I’ve been hearing for the last hour.”

Finally, Logan rolled onto his back, his covers covering his bottom half, and groaned. “Fine.”

“Thank you.”

Logan straightened himself in his bed, giving you room to get in beside him. And the minute you touched his covers, you were glad you had changed into shorts.

Logan was like a furnace. Just constant heat radiating from his body and for as much as it, at times, got too hot to stand near him, he was also, in your opinion, the best person to fall asleep beside.

“Just shut up and go to sleep.”

Laying on your side, it wasn’t long until you closed your eyes, thankful that you could hear nothing other than Logan’s steady breathing and the distant clock down the hall that was forever ticking.

However, just before you fully drifted off, you felt Logan’s hand take hold of yours and you smiled.

He could be gruff all he liked, but when it came to you, he could be a softie.

By the time morning rolled around, Storm was in search of both yourself and Logan. So, when she found your bed empty and cold, she figured Logan would know where you were.

But he was asleep.

Right beside you.

Storm leaned against the door frame for a while, taking in the picture in front of her.

Logan was fast asleep, something that was a miracle in itself, with you right beside him, your head turned towards the windows in his room, his own looking towards you, all the while, his arm slung over your midsection and one of your own hands, holding his.

“Storm- what are you- Oh.”

Jean looked inside.

“Looks like someone had a good night.” She smiled before looking back at Storm. “Do you think we can finally ask if they’re together?”

“I’d say this is confirmation enough.”

You shifted in your sleep as did Logan, and the two girls hid behind the corner for a moment.

You turned your head and the rest of your body towards Logan, all the while his arm held you in a stronger grip and pulled you towards him.

It took you a moment but you finally opened your eyes, adjusting to the light before your vision finally cleared on a sleeping Logan.

For a moment, you allowed the hand between you both to reach up and brush the stray hairs from his eyes. It was rare you ever got to see Logan this…calm.

Serene.

Rested.

Unknowingly, you started to run your left thumb over Logan’s arm that still held onto you.

Then his fingers twitched, running over the exposed skin at the bottom of your back.

“Are you watching me sleep?” His voice was rough, the first words in the morning.

“Not anymore,” you smiled, brushing the final parts of his hair out of his face.

“Thanks for letting me stay.”

Then a cough came from the door.

Logan groaned. “Is this a new hobby; watching people sleep?”

Jean and Storm laughed from the door. “You two look cosy.”

You lifted your head and glared at Jean. “There is one reason I’m here. Maybe I think it’s time you make an investment in soundproof walls.”

Jean turned a little red and Storm laughed.

“Look, we’ve got a busy day. You can kiss your boyfriend later.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you called out just as Logan called; “She’s not my girlfriend.”

Storm and Jean nodded and just as Jean snapped a picture, she sent it to both yourself and Logan as they walked away.

“Sure.”

Leaning up, Logan reached for his phone to see the notification pop up before he placed it back down and you climbed out of bed.

“They’re got a point.”

“About us being a couple?”

You threw a t-shirt at Logan. “Having a busy day.”

Logan laughed a little, scrubbing his face as he watched you leave his room before he reached behind him and took hold of his phone once more.

Jean and Storm were right.

From the picture…they did look like a couple.

A couple of days passed and you were sitting in the quiet living room, the fires on both sides roaring.

All classes had been finished for two days and some kids had returned home for the holidays, which meant you had some free time on your hands.

And for you, that meant finally reading.

Until you sensed someone stood behind you.

“If you want to know what happens, you could just ask me.”

Logan plucked the book from your hands and circled around the sofa before coming to sit down beside you.

“Logan! Give it back.”

“I want to see what it’s about.”

You sighed and sat up, “It’s a romance, Logan.”

“A romance?” Logan had a hint of a smirk on his face. “Like the…trashy kind?”

“Like the romantic kind.”

Logan looked at you and smiled. “The trashy kind.”

You rolled your eyes and took the book back from him, leaving him to fix the blanket so it rested over both of you. He placed his arm over the back of the sofa, allowing you to lean into him, whether you noticed you were doing so or not.

“Just because you might not believe in romance, doesn’t mean the rest of us are the same.”

“I believe in romance.”

“Yeah, right.”

Logan couldn’t help but smile. “What?”

“The Wolverine,” you said with a deep voice. “Believes in romance?”

Logan nodded. “Occasionally.”

“Occasionally?”

“Do you just like repeating everything I say?”

You nodded and smiled. “Occasionally.”

Logan rolled his eyes and took the book back from you and read a line out loud.

“People really talk like this?”

You leaned into Logan. “No, but in a book it’s not so bad. Go on, read some more.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

You nodded. “You’re like my own personal audiobook.”

Logan gave a short smile before getting a little cosier and continued reading out loud.

It wasn’t long before Logan found you asleep against him and he shifted in order to avoid you getting a crick in your neck.

“Keep reading.”

“I thought you were asleep.”

“Now I’m awake.”

“Fine, just be quiet.”

You gave a fake salute. “Yes, sir.”

Holding his arm around your body that was pressed between himself and the sofa, Logan quickly kissed the top of your head and went back to reading.

And ten minutes later, you were asleep.

And so was he.

An hour passed before someone found either of you, but this time, it was Scott and Bobby.

“They might be in- oh. What do we have here?”

“Oh my god, Rouge has to see this. I told her they were together.”

Bobby rushed off and soon returned, pulling Rouge with him.

“What is it?” Then she gasped.

“Believe me now?”

And what Rouge saw made her smile.

On the slightly too small sofa for Logan, you lay both between him and the sofa, as well as partly on him with your hand a little over his heart. His head was turned towards you. The blanket had fallen a little, so she reached over and pulled it up both of you before turning around and throwing a log onto the fire.

“Come on, let's leave them.”

“But-”

“No, you are not going to disturb them. Come on.”

Rouge dragged the pair out and closed the door behind her.

The third time people suspected you and Logan were an item was one late evening in October.

Half of the kids were playing outside with all the freshly fallen leaves, whilst some of the older kids helped them find different critters and point them out, and build them habitats. The rest of the kids were either in their rooms or studying.

Save for two.

Bobby and Rouge were hiding outside of the kitchen watching yourself and Logan cook.

“I didn’t even know he knew how to…chop. Let alone cook.”

“You should have more faith in him.”

“Come on, Rouge. You can’t tell me you weren't thinking it, too.”

And she couldn’t. Because she was.

Meanwhile inside the kitchen, Logan was watching you from the kitchen island as he continued chopping the veg.

There was something different about you. From the way you practically danced around the kitchen finding the different items for the recipe, to just…you. Whilst he was (semi) shirtless, just having his zipper hoodie on, along with his jeans and socks. He would have been fully dressed, except you had come and ambushed him in his room – even though you denied the word “ambushed” – to get him to help.

And you were just simply in your pyjamas (of sorts) along with one of his zipper hoodies.

“Bub,”

Logan laid down his knife and walked over to you as you stood by the stove, standing a little higher to see how much water was left in the pot at the back.

You hummed a questioned response, but was met with a question…you didn’t expect.

“Dance with me?”

“What?”

Logan smiled lightly as he pulled the wooden spoon from your hand and pulled you closer to him, despite him walking backwards.

“Come on,” his voice in a light whisper. “Dance with me.”

“Didn’t take you for a dancer.”

Outside the door, Bobby and Rouge mouthed to each other; “They’re dancing.”

And you both were.

Gently swaying to the music for a while, you allowed Logan to lead you around a small space in the centre of the kitchen.

“We’re gonna burn the sauce.”

Logan gave a slight smile at you as he spun you out and back in, “We’re not gonna burn the sauce.”

“Logan.”

“Can’t you ever just enjoy a moment?”

“When that moment doesn’t include burning the house down, yes.”

“Bit of a jump, don’t you think, from burning the sauce.”

“Ha, so you agree. We’re gonna burn the sauce.”

Moving over, Logan turned down the heat on one of the pans before taking your hand back into his. “Now we won’t.”

Bobby and Rouge watched, in shock, the rest.

For one, Logan knew how to dance? Since when? And since when did he…cook and dance in the kitchen? Unless…

Then Logan did something even you didn’t expect.

He dipped you.

You hand tightened its grip on Logan’s arm as you let out a small, if a little nervous, laugh.

Logan had been full of surprises recently. From the impromptu audiobook session in which you woke up in his arms, to him not only dropping off a cup of coffee during your break from teaching but also a freshly baked muffin.

And now he was dancing with you in the kitchen.

And dipping you.

When you had rushed him out of his room to help you cook, you hadn’t expected him to know the recipe for the sauce from the top of his head. Something he just happened to rattle off whilst you were looking for the cooking notebook that should have been in the cupboard beside the oven. Let alone be the one to ask to dance in the kitchen, and dip you.

Bring you back up, both of you gave a slight chuckle as you turned around, the music slowly fading away in the background.

“Logan…”

Looking at him, you forgot what you were going to say.

Had his eyes always had so much green in them?

Logan’s palm became warm against your back as it pressed further into you. Or maybe you pressed further into him and he just held you tighter.

Slowly, your hand left his bicep and trailed towards his chest all the while your eyes studied his face. You’d known him for years and seen him a thousand times or more.

So why did now feel like you were seeing him for the first time? Noticing him? Noticing each particle he was made up of that allowed him to sway with you in the kitchen to the music that had changed on the radio?

Only, before the space between yourself and Logan became any more closer, a noise came from outside the door.

A sneeze.

A sneeze that shocked you and Logan back into reality.

Still holding you, Logan looked towards the door and gave a hint of a smile when he saw the flash of white disappear behind the beam.

Realising what was happening, you lowered yourself back to the ground and slowly stepped out of Logan’s arms. “We should finish up.”

Logan nodded in agreement, however did look back at you when you got back to the stove, not noticing you do the same a few moments later, watching him pick up the rest of the veg and toss it into the collider to be washed.

Time passed and after more music, more conversation - including a burnt tongue from when you had shoved a wooden spoon with fresh sauce on, into Logan’s mouth for him to try - and a lot of scrubbing later, you found Logan sitting inside the library and collapsed next to him.

“Good news, the kids loved the food,” you told Logan. “Double good news; Jean and Scott are on cooking duty tomorrow.”

“Thank fuck.”

“Thank you for helping me.” Turning to look at Logan, you found him already looking.

“You did ambush me.”

“I didn’t ambush you.”

“I wasn’t dressed.” Logan examined himself. “Technically, I’m still not.”

You rolled your eyes with a slight smile. “Fine. Maybe it was a mini, tiny, miniscule ambush.”

You made a small space between your fingers. “Like this big of an ambush.”

Logan looked at you, at your fingers and then back to you in slight disgust before moving your fingers wider with his own.

“That big of an ambush.”

You rolled your eyes and dropped your hand. “And they say us women are dramatic.”

It was Logan’s turn to roll his eyes. However, as he did so, his arm wrapped around you, and pulled you back into him and the sofa.

“Just shut the fuck up for a minute and listen.”

You did so.

“I don’t hear anything.”

“That’s the point.” Logan’s eyes were shut as his head rested on the back of the sofa.

Eventually you gave a shrug and joined him.

An hour later, Storm found you both fast asleep beside one another so with a knowing smile, she found a blanket, covered you both up and closed the door behind her. But not before reminding herself she needed to get verbal confirmation from you both.

She wasn’t handing over any money to Jean and Xavier until she had verbal confirmation of what exactly was going on between you two.

And she didn’t have to wait long…at least in the long run, she didn’t have to wait long.

Until then, there were plenty more incidents of falling asleep next to each other, bringing each other coffee, dancing to music in the kitchen, smiling and laughing – all before she finally got verbal confirmation that the inevitable had finally happened.

Finally, it was acceptable to decorate for Christmas.

Two days prior, Rogue, Logan and Storm had been helping you find all the old decorations in the attic and bring them down. Storm did try then to bribe something out of Rogue, but she apparently was just in the dark as the rest of them.

But the smile she gave when she looked over at Logan, who was placing down another box from the back of the pile for you to take a look at, told Storm something different.

“I can’t believe you leave it this late to decorate.”

Logan looked at you. “We’re still in November.”

“So?”

Taking hold of the garland, you started to climb the ladder. Logan held onto the bottom just to be safe.

“If you had it your way, the decorations would be up all year round.”

“Hey, no.”

“Hey, yes.”

“I’d take them down for…” you tried to think. “Halloween. You’d have a little break.”

Logan didn’t look entirely thrilled. “Halloween is one day.”

“Technically, it’s a month.”

“To you, it’s a month. To the rest of us, it’s a day.”

You looked back at him. “To you it’s a day, to the rest of us it’s a month.”

Then you looked back at the garland. “How does that look?”

“Great from where I’m standing.”

You looked a little confused for a second before quickly looking over your shoulder, realising where Logan was, in fact, looking.

Not at the garland, but at your ass.

You smiled and started to step down the ladder, hitting his shoulder on the way down.

“I meant the garland.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Logan looked up. “Looks great.”

You laughed. “You didn’t even look.”

With a smile as you finally stepped back into his arm, he looked to the side and up. “It looks great.”

“Good. Now,” Logan turned back to look at you and you kissed him quickly. “We have to put up five more.”

“I get to watch you put up five more.”

You smiled. “This is why you’re my favourite person.”

Logan smiled. He could help you with everything else, but when it came to the garland, you had full control on where it went. Which, he didn’t mind. So long as he got to watch you put it up.

You quickly kissed him once more, only to be pulled back when you tried to walk away.

Then Logan gave you a real kiss.

A little dizzy, you smiled and placed a hand on his chest and closed your eyes. “Wow.”

He gave you a quicker, lighter kiss. “You better get going before Rogue comes back with another box of lights.”

“Light?” Then it hit you. “Oh, yeah.”

Logan smirked a little as he watched you walk away and down the hallway.

It was a couple of hours before everyone was in the same room, making the final touches all the while most of the other kids were either playing outside in the snow, were taking naps or decorating their own rooms.

And the others had been watching you and Logan all day.

The stolen glances, the stolen touches, the slightly knowing smiles from both Rogue and Bobby. And then, as Logan was helping you down from the ladder, his hand on your thigh, Bobby went to make the final hammer to hang up the mistletoe.

“Wait, no. Not there.”

“Where then?”

Storm looked around. “I know. Y/n, hang this just above there. We don’t need a remake of Mistletoe Central 1997.”

Logan looked at Storm. “Do I wanna know?”

Storm shook her head. “Here.”

She handed you the mistletoe before Logan passed you the hammer back from his belt.

Three knocks and the nail was set in and the mistletoe was above you on a corner beam, just a little to the side of the christmas tree.

At least this way, those looking for it, would find it.

"Oh, no, wait.” Jean said, looking at you. “Have to kiss someone. It’s tradition. You’re under the mistletoe.”

There was no one else apart from Logan.

Logan looked around at the others. He wondered how long it would take.

Coming up behind you on the ladder, you moved over for him to stand beside you. His palm on your back held you steady and, leaning his other arm on the ledge of the ladder, his hand cupped your face and he kissed you.

Lasting a little longer than the others had expected, you soon heard Rogue giving a little cheer, as well as a couple of whistles from the others.

“Okay, I think they get it.” You whispered to Logan as he finally pulled away, a smile very noticeable on both of your faces.

“Happy now?” Logan asked, turning towards where Jean and Scott were standing.

“That was some kiss.”

You felt yourself blush at the comment. As did Logan.

He helped you back down the ladder before you both turned and really saw the other's expression. As well as the exchanging of money between people.

“Sooo…how long has this been going on?”

You were leaning into Logan, his hand around your back and on your hip.

You looked at Logan, “A couple of months. We’re…what? November now so that would…”

“That would…” Logan counted back in his head. “May…June, July…six months.”

You looked back to the others. “Six months.”

A chorus of shocked faces and loud voices sounded out; “SIX MONTHS?!”

All before a small call from Rogue was made, which made both yourself and Logan smile.

“I knew it!”

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clockwayswrites · 1 month ago

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A Bird in the Woods is... part 41

masterpost (this is a first draft, please no editing or concrit <3)

Danny’s hand rested on the open side of the car, drumming along to the radio. His head was tilted back, eyes closed to the breeze as the convertible wound through the forest. He resisted spreading his wings fully only because he didn’t want to accidentally take off. After all, he didn’t know if he could actually fly in this form.

Flying as a ghost would be easy, but that wasn’t really about the wings. Besides, as much as he was growing closer to the Wayens, he wasn’t ready to talk ghosts yet. People tended to struggle facing their own mortality, and Danny saw how much Jason’s supposed death was still a scar on the family. He didn’t want to add to to that pain.

Instead of giving into the urge, he distracted himself by asking, “Is it an insult if I say that you’re a better driver than I expected?”

Bruce chuckled. “I think it might be. Do I come across as that reckless?”

“The dad that you are? Never. But there’s a difference between driving in the city when Alfred is busy and flying down these winding roads like this,” Danny pointed out. He tipped his head over so that he could watch Bruce think how to respond. He was becoming very fond of all of the small, barely there expressions that Bruce made.

“I’ve raced F-1 cars before, you know,” Bruce said, clearly amused.

“I clearly did not know,” Danny teased back. “While I hear things, I’ve never actually looked you up, not outside of who you are as the driving force behind WE and your charities. And that was for job search reasons.”

“No checking into my past? My sordid affairs to see if I’m dating material? My sex tape? Tapes? I’m not sure what’s been leaked at this point,” Bruce said. Danny didn’t miss the way Bruce’s hands tightened slightly on the wheel.

Danny reached out and rested his fingers on Bruce’s arm for a moment. “I’m not dating your past. I’m dating the man you are now—the dad and the philanthropist and the person who keeps trying. And never, no one deserves to be exposed like that against their will.” Danny paused and then added in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Besides, I’d rather wait to learn any intimate things myself. It’s much more fun that way.”

Bruce’s grip relaxed again. “Well, it is a long weekend.”

“And a secluded one,” Danny agreed. It wasn’t that he needed the weekend to go that way, of course not, but it had been a long time. “Or so I’m assuming. Are you going to actually tell me about where we’re going now?”

“Can you be patient for about fifteen more minutes?” Bruce asked instead.

Danny gave an exaggerated sigh. “If I must.”

Bruce just gave a little smile and kept driving them down the winding roads at a pace that maybe was actually a little reckless, but Danny wasn’t going to complain. He trusted Bruce enough—and wasn’t that a thought— that it was easy just to enjoy the ride. It really was a beautiful area.

Before Danny knew it, Bruce was taking a turn that Danny hadn’t even noticed. The whole path (road seemed generous for the gravel way) was surrounded tightly by trees. Set well back from the road was a robust but utilitarian gate set into a tall fence.

Danny resisted the urge to frown and the chopped up wilderness. “Is the whole area fenced in?”

“No, just enough to discourage people coming in off the road,” Bruce answered as he keyed them in. “There are some signs up about entering private property, but the rest of the area is unfenced to allow the wildlife to roam. Which also means these woods are wild, and if you go out to be mindful of that.”

“I don’t think I’ll wander far without you,” Danny said as he leaned over on door to watch the trees pass. “They’re beautiful, but woods aren’t exactly my natural environment.”

“Says the man who’s apartment is halfway to a jungle.”

“Jungle, not woods,” Danny corrected with a laugh. “Besides, you’re the man with a conservatory.”

“One that is woefully empty,” Bruce said. “I’m afraid none of us are plant people. Plants were my father’s thing. While he was alive, the conservatory flourished. His orchid especially were something. It was one of my favorite places in the house to read.”

“I’m sorry that you don’t have that anymore.”

“It’s alright, time passes. Alfred help me press some of the flowers after their deaths, and a few of them a framed in the library. It’s a nice… nod to him and what he loved,” Bruce said with a soft smile.

That did sound nice. Danny made a mental note to reach out to Sam and see if she might be willing to help out with a little project. He was sure he could barter with information about his new relationship.

While Danny was thinking, the trees opened up a little and Danny got the first peak of where they would be staying. It was a cabin, wood and stone that set it lightly in the forest. It was like the cabin was a gentle guest, rather than an invader to the woods despite its size.

“Another of my father’s passion projects,” Bruce explained as he brought the car to a stop in the half round drive. “He felt getting out of the city now and then was important. I don’t do it as often as I should.”

“I can’t judge you,” Danny said. He stepped out of the car and raised his arms, and wings, over his head in a stretch. “Though I’m very much enjoying the excuse this weekend.”

“Good. The cabin has been freshened up, and the fridge is full with food that we only have to put in the oven,” Bruce said. “I thought we would settle in, have lunch, and then perhaps wander down to the lake? It’s not large, but it’s beautiful at sunset if we wanted to take a bottle of wine with and lounge.”

“Are you trying to get me to never leave?” Danny teased.

“Never,” Bruce said. He grabbed both of their bags from the trunk. “Lucius would kill me if I kept you away from WE for too long.”

“Too true,” Danny agreed with a laugh as he followed Bruce up the flagstone steps and into the grand cabin.

#dp x dc #birdritch #spirit halloween ship #danny/bruce

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dumpywrites · 10 days ago

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Forget-me-not - Min Yoongi / Suga

Prompt: “Treat me like yours again for a week before you let me go.”

Prompt request: HERE

Genre/tags: Angst (happy ending), drama, idol Yoongi, engaged au, lots of hurtful pinning

Pairing: Yoongi x she/her reader

Word count: 7.6k

a/n: I've been really down the past couple of days and it turns out it inspire me to finish this story (I've been keeping it on my drafts for months T_T) Also, did you catch that ot7 live??? cus I'm still crying 😭😭😭

“You’re calling it off? Just like that?!”

The taste of the apple that you just bit was suddenly bitter in your mouth. It was a quiet Monday night when you were enjoying your alone time, eating fruits and reading e-books through your tablet. You knew your fiancé was going to come home around this hour. You just did not expect the news he brought along with him.

It had been a little under a year since both of you decided to live together. You moved soon right after he proposed to you, but his schedule being so full, he was barely even home.

It was just a blessing and a curse at the same time, him being an idol. While the group activities had slowed down recently, with the other members focusing on solo projects outside of BTS, Yoongi had only gotten busier. Just a few months after your engagement he got to finally establish his own record label. Of course you couldn’t be more happier for him, but higher position also came with higher responsibilities.

The investor meetings, press conferences, artist assessments, and your man being Suga from BTS himself, still had some idol duties on the sides.

But you were used to it. You were used to him being booked and busy. You had loved him for the longest time to understand that as much as you hated being far apart from him, you equally loved seeing him in his element, making music, putting smiles on millions of people’s faces. Because Yoongi’s happiness was yours too after all.

So it was a shocking, humiliating even, for him to just come and said the vile statement he just said to you. He just got back from two weeks of his abroad job, and he chose to bring this news to you as a present.

“I just think with how things are, I don’t have time for you. This is clearly hurting both of us so it’s better this way.” He said, expression blank and it was hard to read.

“Yoongi, I’ve dated you for three years before getting engaged to you. I know your schedules and I’m used to it.”

“It’ll be different when we are married.”

“It won’t.” You argued.

“It will.” He sighed. “It will only get worse when we get married.”

“You do realize you get breaks and day offs, right? I can wait.”

“I own a company now.”

You looked at him to see his expression. It was still blank as he stood in front of you. Sometimes you hated how stoic he could be, especially when he wanted to. It was breaking you, but you chose to remain collected.

“If that’s your priority, then I get it.”

You stood up from your seat with a big sigh. You saw his pupil moved in a frantic way for a second, before going back to normal.

“I’ll move, you can have the—“

“One week.” You said, looking at him straight in the eye.

He looked at you, stopping his sentence.

“Treat me like yours again for a week before you let me go.” You folded your arms. “After that you can leave and we’ll be on our separate ways.”

Yoongi’s mouth opened, before it quickly closed to a stretched straight line. He looked like he was about to say something but he chose not to. He nodded his head at you, sighing.

“Okay.” Was all he said to you.

You took one last look at him before walking away, heading to the bedroom. You wondered if you could catch any sleep that night.

When moonlight came Yoongi chose to sleep next to you, after all, that was what you had asked him to do. To treat you like his again, even just for the week. You had some hours alone with your mind, you had some thoughts of how you would act when he slip into the covers with you, but when it happened you really didn’t know what to say. For some time he only laid there, unmoved, and you started to wonder if he just fell asleep like that.

You knew you had told him to do so, but it still didn’t hide the pain you were feeling when he slowly moved closer and hugged you from behind. He knew you were not asleep, of course he did. He always did. He didn’t say anything, just resting his forehead on your head, one hand over your waist to hold you close. You could feel his heartbeat and without knowing, the tears just started flowing on its own. You bit your lips, in hope that he wouldn’t notice, but then his thumb started to draw circles on your forearm. Maybe he noticed, maybe he did not. He chose to not comment about it though, which you were glad. That was why you chose not to say anything either when you felt your shoulder damp, some water droplets fell on your hair and onto your skin.

DAY 1

The next morning you were awaken by noises coming from the kitchen. You thought he would be up in his studio at this hour, him being a light sleeper and all, but it seemed like he was cooking something at eight in the morning, judging by the delicious smell. You quickly brushed your teeth and head out to check on him.

“Are you cooking?” You asked, slowly approaching him in the kitchen.

“Yeah.” He said as he stir the rice on the wok.

You looked at him, giving him a funny look.

“What?” He raised one of his eyebrows before turning up the stove’s heat, adding some minced meat on what seemed to be fried rice.

“Nothing, it’s just that you don’t usually cook so early in the morning.” You said, retreating back and took a seat on the dining chair. You sighed, figuring it was just his acts for the week.

“I haven’t cooked for you in a while.” He said, still string the food. “I also thought you would be up a little later.“

“I smelt the food, plus it was odd to find you in the kitchen at this hour instead of in your studio.”

“You could, you know… sleep some more. If you want to.” He said with his back facing you as he cooked.

“I’d rather watch you cook.” You smiled, even though he couldn’t see.

Soon he came to the dining table with two plates in his hands, one that he placed in front of you, and one for himself. The smell of the food filled the room and you started to salivate. It was just a simple dish but knowing who cooked for you made it different. Yoongi went back to grab two glasses of water for both of you, before finally sitting down across of you.

You were a tad bit anxious seeing the piercing look on his eyes, waiting for you to take a bite. And when you did, he immediately wanted a feedback.

“So?”

“I like it. Has the right amount of spiciness.” You said with food still in your mouth. “You should cook this more often.”

Your expression dropped when you realized that your request was soon about to be impossible, given the situation. Quickly, you looked down, choosing to focus on eating instead.

“Glad you like it.”

You ate in silence after that, the kind of quiet that wasn’t as sharp as before. There was still pain between you, but it had been placed in the corner for now, like a box no one wanted to open just yet.

When he stood to rinse his plate, you said without looking up, “Do you remember the first time we made breakfast together?”

He paused at the sink. “You tried to make pancakes but used salt instead of sugar.”

“And you still ate them like an idiot.”

“I was trying to impress you.”

“By eating salted cement?” You asked with an amused smile.

He grinned too. For a moment, the version of Yoongi you missed most stood there in front of you. Not the artist with the world on his shoulders. Just a man who once came to your apartment with multiple packets of different sizes of pads because he got too shy to ask which would be the appropriate one.

You watched him dry his hands, eyes focused on the towel. Something in his jaw tightened.

“Right.” You bit your inner cheek, trying to compose yourself. “How’s Namjoon by the way? I miss his little kid.” You started another topic, to drift away.

“His son is doing fine and so is he.” He said and started eating as well. “I think his wife is expecting another…”

“Really?! Wow, look at him… And to think he told us he didn’t want any children before…” You chuckled. “That guy is whipped. I’m happy for him.”

Yoongi looked at you and smiled. “Yeah.”

You and Yoongi had never mentioned anything about wanting kids in your life. The topic just somehow never came up. You used to want children in your family, but lately with how things with your work and Yoongi’s schedules, you figured it would be too much. Plus, you always had fear of change, and the idea of pregnancy scared you just a bit. But you had never heard anything from Yoongi if he wanted any or not. It would be too late to ask anyway.

“Have you ever thought of having kids?”

You almost choked on clear water. “I’m sorry?”

“We never really talked about it before…” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Do you?” You shot the question back at him.

“I never really thought about it but, I’ve always thought that I want whatever you want.”

Clearly not. You thought to yourself. “I… I used to want it. But seeing how busy both of us can be sometimes, I don’t think it’s possible. There’s enough people in this world anyway, we don’t need any mini me around.” You giggled.

“A mini you sounds adorable.” His smile quickly faded when he seemed to realize his words.

“I don’t think so. Kinda not possible with how we are now after all…” You gave a sad smile.

“I—”

“No, let’s not talk about it.” You heaved a sigh and gave him another smile, even though you started to feel your eyes getting teary.

The rest of the day was spent with the two of you just watching your old favorite movies together. You didn’t cuddle, but both of you rested your heads on each other and it was enough comfort for you.

DAY 2

This time when you woke up, Yoongi was still asleep. Movie marathoning was fun until it was four in the morning and both of you overslept on the couch. You found Yoongi sleeping, head resting on your lap, and the urge to run your finger through his hair was high, but you didn’t want to risk waking him up in the process. He looked so calm, and you missed just seeing him like this. He always looked like a cat, especially when he was asleep. He would even sometimes let out noises that sounded like a purr.

You let yourself sleep more, maybe another ten minutes.

The sound of the phone ringing could be heard from the table, Yoongi’s ringing and vibrating on it. He took the call and sounded like he was never asleep. Sometimes you wonder how he could behave so inhumane like that.

He looked up when he noticed you staring. “What is it?”

You hesitated. “Let’s go out after your call.”

“Out? Don’t you have meeting today?”

“I’ve taken the week off.” You simply said.

Yoongi hesitated for a moment, before speaking. “Where to?”

“The bookstore cafe. The one near the station. Remember? That place… we haven’t been there in a while.” You fidgeted with your fingers. “We used to go all the time.”

He didn’t answer right away, and you wondered if he’d say no. Maybe the week you asked for was already too heavy for him. But he just nodded.

“Yeah. Okay. After the call.”

The cafe was exactly the same. It smelled like spiced tea and old pages, the lighting was still dim in that warm, cozy way, and the bookstore shelves remained haphazard and charmingly messy. There was a new girl behind the counter, but the man who used to run the place, Mr. Han, was still stood in his usual spot by the register, glasses perched halfway down his nose.

“Well, well! Look who crawled back from the dead…” Mr. Han said with a teasing smile.

You laughed. “Don’t say that, you’ll scare the tourists.”

Yoongi offered a polite smile, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets. “Sorry we disappeared.”

“You two were the royalty of table six.” Mr. Han said, nodding toward the back. “You left a hole when you stopped coming.”

That made Yoongi pause. You tugged him by the sleeve toward your old booth before he could slip into guilt.

The booth was still tucked into the corner, the cushions worn and soft from years of use. It had seen a lot. Your first real conversation after weeks of quiet flirting, being in all masks and hoodies, your first fight over miscommunication and missed texts, Yoongi’s confession on an evening when he looked terrified and brave all at once, to when you could finally date in normal attire after deciding to publicize your relationship.

You slid into the seat and glanced across at him. “Do you remember that night you asked me if I’d be your emergency contact?”

He snorted. “I remember the shock in your face.”

“You asked me if I want to be the first one to get called if you die… with the straightest face.” You argued.

“You still said yes.”

You shrugged, smiling as you looked to the ceiling. “I was so in love with you.”

He flinched. It wasn’t visible, not really. But you knew Yoongi too well. You knew how his eyes darted slightly when something hit too close, how his fingers tightened a fraction against the cup of coffee he had in his grasp. You didn’t push.

You looked out the window and said, “We had some good memories here.”

“Yeah.” Was all he replied back.

You spent two hours there, talking mostly about books you never had time to read and music he’d been working on. You showed him a ridiculous meme on your phone, and he actually laughed. He laughed like he used to. The wall between you cracked just slightly.

When it was time to go, you thanked Mr. Han and waved goodbye. Outside, the wind bit at your cheeks, and you tucked your hands into your coat pockets. Yoongi hesitated beside you.

“You looked really happy in there.” He said, his voice soft.

“Because I was.”

He glanced over. “It’s been a while since I saw you like that.”

You met his eyes. “That’s what happens when you disappear into work.”

He didn’t defend himself and just nodded quietly. But he didn’t walk away either. He walked with you to the car, his shoulder brushing yours the entire way.

At night before you head to bed, he pulled you gently and placed the lightest kiss on your temple. It could be just you but you saw a glimmer of hope in him. Or it could be the agreement playing the part.

DAY 3

You were awoken by Yoongi’s eyes staring at you. He greeted you with a warm smile, uttering a good morning to you. You smiled back, scooting closer in his embrace, salivating the moment.

This was how a normal morning goes for you, at least when he was home. Sure you would always miss him when he went away for his concerts, tour, or any other job that required him to be not home, but every time he came back, the feelings would always just reset. It was so easy, so effortless, to forget when you see his face and feeling him close to you again. He made it easy.

“Any plans today?” He asked, resting his chin on top of your head, embracing you still.

“This,” You smiled with your eyes closed. “This is the plan.”

“As much as I’d love that, we gotta eat something.” He chuckled.

“Nope.” You giggled.

You ended up snuggling and sleeping in for the next two hours and a half, until you heard your own stomach rumbled.

The day was supposed to be a slow day with little to no work to do. Yoongi had some songs that needed quick revision, but nothing he couldn’t do at the comfort of his home studio.

You decided to bring him some coffee to his studio. There he was leaning back on his chair with his headphones on, bopping his head a few times to the beat that was unheard.

“Yoongi?” You called upon entering the room. He didn’t seem to notice you until you placed the cup of coffee on his table.

“Oh, thanks.” He said after removing his left earpiece and took a sip of the beverage. “Just a few tuning and I’ll be done.”

“Take your time.” You said, taking a chair next to him. “I hope I’m not interrupting?”

“Never.” He said without meeting your gaze as his eyes went back to the monitor screen.

You gulped, suddenly feeling a bit tensed and leaned against the seat.

“Do you wanna listen?”

“Oh?” You were taken aback. “It’s done already?”

“It’s just the instrumental. Jungkook will sing the song.” He said after clicking some buttons.

“What’s the title?” You rested your hand on top of the table.

“Haven’t really decided on it but…” He stopped and removed his earphones entirely. “Here, let me show you the lyrics.” He handed you his notebook.

You skimmed through the lyrics and wondered to yourself. Since when did Yoongi learn to write corny and cheesy love song? And the more you read through it, the description, the tiny mentioned details, it sounded like he was so smitten that he had to pour his entire feelings out on this song. Mind you this was the same guy who wrote and performed Daechwita.

“You’re telling me you wrote this?!” You said while still re-reading the lyrics.

“What’s with the judgmental look?” He looked at you in disbelief.

“It’s just— Yah, have you ever even fell in love like this?! This doesn’t sound like you.” You frowned.

“I wrote this years ago.” He smiled, taking another sip of the coffee you made him. “This was way before we were even a thing.”

Your expression turned sour. “So it’s about an ex?”

“Silly, it’s about you.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “It’s about me?!”

He puffed a breath and smiled, showing his gummy grin. “It clearly said, you looked through me beyond the glamour.” He pointed at the notebook that was still in your hands. “You were quite literally our makeup artist’s assistant for two years.”

It was true. You used to work under Big Hit for a while until you decided to resign. You and your friends took a huge risk and decided to start your own private brand, and so you needed to step back from the company.

The job was how you met Yoongi and the rest of the boys. Somehow you would often get assigned to do his makeup. Yoongi was rather quiet the first few gigs, but judging by the cold exterior you thought he’d be rude, but he ended up being the sweetest man you had ever known. Second to Jimin of course because that man’s an angel.

It was that one time you accidentally dropped a bottle of foundation on the floor. You just started the job, barely four weeks into it, and you already did something so fatal. You arrived early and there wasn’t anyone in the room, but the sound of the breaking glass was loud enough. The door soon opened and you were expecting it to be the head makeup artist, but much to your surprise, it was Yoongi who peeked through the door, asking about your well being.

You were lost for words as your vision only went back and forth from your hands to the shattered glasses and the complexion colored mess on the floor. Seeing your shocked state, Yoongi calmly called the cleaners and told you to take a seat. There were multiple apologies and thank yous came out from your mouth before he just took out his phone from his pocket. He tapped on the screen and browsed through his apps before handing the phone to you, shocking you even more.

“Here, just order the same one, the instant delivery is quite fast.”

You were begging to pay him back, but Yoongi was a man of his words, so he kept resisting. One day you just showed up at the set and got him iced americano to show your gratitude, even though you knew the price tag wasn’t equal. And the rest was history.

“Didn’t know you were into me like that.” Even though you were rolling your eyes, your cheeks couldn’t hide the pinkish glow.

“I thought I told you that I basically had a huge crush on you when we first met.” He snickered.

“You did, I just didn’t expect the romantic song…” You tried to avoid his gaze.

“Come on, you genuinely think I would just buy you a bottle of overpriced makeup if I don’t have any ulterior motive?! Money was tight at that time, you know!” He laughed.

You couldn’t help but to laugh as well. “To think that I fell for the sweet guy who helped me. Turns out he had malicious intent.”

“In my defense I would still help you nonetheless. I’d probably cover for you and makeup some bullshit. But the whole buying a new bottle was a smart way to get our connection going.” He proudly smirked.

“We were so dumb back then, huh?”

“I guess so.” He shook his head and smiled.

“But I don’t regret a thing.”

You said without thinking. You watched as the sparkle on Yoongi’s eyes went off and he quickly turned back to his computer screen.

You spent that night looking at his back facing you, wondering if he ever regretted meeting you.

DAY 4

You woke up with your bed empty. It wasn’t something that was new to you, in fact, you knew exactly where he was.

This time when you found him in his studio, a low tune was playing. He turned his chair to your direction instantly upon hearing the door creaking open.

You peeked with a tea in hand. “Were you up all night?”

“Only been here since five.”

You carefully took a seat next to him, studying his facial features. He seemed distressed, you could clearly see the creases forming on his forehead.

“What’s bothering you?” You asked.

“You said we’d treat each other like before, right?”

Your eyes widened, but you remained calm. “Yeah?”

“Then let’s play music and just sit with me.”

At first you didn’t think too much about the song choices he made. Sure you had listened to them but so what, you were aware that both of you had similar taste in music. But by the time the third song played, your heart clenched. It was your playlist. The one he’d made for your third anniversary.

When “free love” by HONNE started playing, you knew it was over for you. You could recall exactly when the song started playing, and Yoongi had a bouquet of peonies in his hands, walking sheepishly to you in your old apartment. He had never gotten you any flowers before. You just couldn’t see the appeal in buying impractical things when there were many more ways to show love. Everyone who had ever dated you were made aware of that. But one day you randomly mentioned that you sometimes wondered how would it feel to receive flowers romantically. Hence, why he did it.

You remembered how it was awkward at first, both of you bursted into laughter for a good minute, before you took the flowers from his hands, and took his lips in yours.

You turned to look at him, surprised. “Is this our…”

His eyes stayed on the screen. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t know you still had it.”

“I never deleted it.” He leaned back on his seat. “It’s a nice playlist to come back to when I’m stressed.”

You didn’t know what to say to that so you didn’t say anything. Instead, you stood up and moved to the center of the studio room. Yoongi watched you with confusion in his eyes.

Then you held your hand out. “Dance with me.”

“Are you serious?!”

“Very.”

He raised an eyebrow. A small smirk appeared on his lips. “You know you suck at dancing.”

“You see women who dance well all the time, I’m seasoned differently.” You giggled.

That made him laugh. A real one. The kind that showed his gums a little, made his eyes crease at the corners. You hadn’t seen that laugh in months.

He did take your hand.

You danced barefoot in the studio, swaying slowly across the carpet as if time hadn’t moved at all. Your fingers curled in his shirt. His hand rested on your lower back, warm and familiar. It wasn’t romantic, not fully. But it was close. Too close.

I can't get you all that stuff

But I can give you all my love

Free love

Are the simple things enough?

I got to give you all my love

Free love

When the song ended, neither of you let go right away. And when you looked up at him, he was already looking down at you.

“Do you ever miss us?” You asked without giving further thought.

His breath caught. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something. Like the words were right there, sitting behind his teeth, waiting to be let go.

“Let’s not talk about missing things today.”

You nodded slowly, expression turning cold. “Okay.”

You stepped back, but your fingers lingered on his. He let them go last.

Soon he went back to his chair, eyes glued back to the multiple screens in front of him. You sat there in silence, not wanting to bother him but reluctant to leave. Your tea halfway empty, now cold, sitting on the desk.

There was an opened notebook on the far left corner of his table. With some torn pages stuck in the middle, some looked crumpled and had torn edges. Some crossed-out lines, lyrics with arrows leading to new ones, some even scratched out entirely.

Your eyes fell on a section dated not many weeks ago.

Daydreams don’t have deadlines. But love does, doesn’t it? How long can she wait before she stops?

Your whole body froze after you read the words.

“I wasn’t going to use those lyrics.” He suddenly said, noticing where your attention was.

“Is this about… us?” You asked with a cracked voice.

Yoongi heaved a big sigh. “I didn’t know how to let you see me break.”

“You thought I can’t handle it?” You asked, feeling offended.

“I couldn’t handle you seeing it.”

“That’s selfish.”

“I know.”

A beat passed.

“Did you write that song for me? Or for you?”

“Both.” He simply said.

Out of the blue, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You got a text from Namjoon’s wife, Jieun, asking if you were free for the day.

Retreating from your seat, you told Yoongi about it and left him be in his studio. After giving her a call you found out that she wanted you to join her picking some baby clothes with her. Said because this time she was having a girl, maybe she needed help from you, with your background in stylist and all. Most importantly, she just wanted to catch up with you.

“Do you think we got too much pink items for her?” Jieun said as she picked another pink baby dress.

“There’s no such thing as too much pink.” You said, humoring the lady.

“It’s a bit stereotype-y though…” The mother frowned.

“We could get some purple stuff too, her daddy is a Bangtan member after all…” You giggled.

“With that logic, if you and Yoongi ever decide to have one, you should buy purple clothes for them as well.” She laughed.

Your expression dropped gradually as you heard her words. You laughed away in hope she wouldn’t notice, but it seemed that it was already too late.

“I’m sorry, was that a sensitive topic?” She asked with a worried look.

“No, don’t worry.” You smiled, assuring her.

“Your expression dropped when I mentioned that.” She walked closer to you. “Is everything alright? You could always tell me.”

You shook your head, sighing. “Things aren’t doing well between me and Yoongi…” You said as you took a seat on a random bench at the mall.

Jieun gasped, immediately taking the seat next to you. “What happened?”

“He wants to call off our engagement. It was just so… sudden??? He literally just came back from being away for weeks, and he came back just to tell me that?” The tone of your voice hitched. “Even told me that he’s gonna move out from our house… I… I don’t understand…” You looked down, tears started to form in your eyes.

Jieun rubbed your shoulder, feeling herself getting teary as well. She hugged you. “Have you guys talk through it?”

“We have, and his only reason was because he thinks he’s too busy and it’s just gonna hurt both of us in the long run.” You sighed. “I told him that I’m already used to him being busy. I think I’ve told you before that even though I miss him, it’s always worth it the second I get to see his face again.” You bit your lips, trying to muffle a cry. “All he said was that he got a company now, which I can’t argue. So, I ended up agreeing…”

“Goodness… So that’s it? He’s just gonna leave???”

“I told him I want him to treat me normally and toss our problems aside for a week before leaving me.” You shrugged, mustering a grin even though you had tears rolling down your cheeks. “It’s what I came up impulsively…”

“I can’t believe Yoongi just decided it like that. I thought he was a rational person… You guys have been together for years, for heavens sake!” She said with anger. “When is he leaving?”

“I don’t know exactly, we haven’t really talked about it but our agreement’s supposed to end in three days…”

“You should definitely try to talk to him about this again. It doesn’t sound like him to just decide things recklessly like that.”

“I don’t know… he seems pretty content with his choice and I don’t think I can change his mind.”

“You have to at least try, but if he still won’t budge, screw him. He doesn’t deserve you then.” She then gave you a hug again, caressing your back.

You let a few more tears flee as you hugged her back.

On your way home you got a call from Yoongi, telling you there was an urgent meeting he had to attend.

You spent the night alone again.

DAY 5

By the time you woke up Yoongi was already up eating a toast with a coffee on his hand. You didn’t know when he got back or if he even slept in the night before, but you weren’t opposed to see him nonetheless.

He fixed you a tea, added the right amount of honey, and asked if you wanted the same toast like he had.

He seemed… calm.

“What do you have on your schedule today?” You asked.

He glanced at his phone, then shrugged. “Nothing urgent. I’ve moved some things.”

That surprised you. He never moved things. Not for anyone. Not unless it was extremely crucial.

You stared. “Why?”

“You asked me for the week.” Yoongi looked up, brow furrowed. “What do you want to do today?”

You swallowed a big lump. “I want to spend today with you.”

You ended up in the park. It was the one near your old apartment before you moved into the bigger penthouse. Before tour dates. Before investors and board meetings and five day vanishing acts. Just the park with the willow tree you liked to sit under. The one where you had your first big fight but shared a kiss right after.

You brought boba tea. He brought a notebook. You sat beneath the willow and slurped the drink in silence, watching as Yoongi occasionally scribbled something down in that same black notebook from the studio.

“I thought you said you’ve moved things, but you’re writing lyrics?” You asked as you leaned closer to sneak a peek.

“It’s nothing, I’m just scared that I’ll forget this…” He said, turning another page. “And I don’t want to.”

The wind rustled the tree above you, and you watched the way sunlight flickered between the leaves, golden and soft. Your heartbeat raced.

“Well, I wouldn’t.” You said with a smile. The wind blew to your hair and you closed your eyes, feeling the breeze.

“How do you know?”

“I don’t forget things that mattered.”

And once again, Yoongi quietly nodded without a word. But he did put down the pen and stopped writing.

You followed your heart and rested your head against his side, hugging his arm as you did. He still turned tense every single time you did something touchy in public. You knew it came with the job. He probably had it embedded in his mind that he had to do the least physical contact with the opposite gender, knowing eyes and cameras were everywhere. Even after you went public, it took him months to get comfortable going out without the coverups.

You figured the habit would had stopped by now, but apparently not.

“I’m sorry.” He suddenly voiced out.

“If you’re sorry then don’t give up on us.”

“I don’t want to continue hurting you.”

“Yet you’re doing it right now.”

He didn’t answer.

But you didn’t move away when his fingers slipped in between yours.

That night, you lay in bed beside him. You didn’t talk. You just curled toward each other, the space between you finally gone. And when Yoongi reached for you in the dark, tentative, slow, afraid. You let him. You let him hold you the way he used to.

Because tonight, for the first time in a long time, you felt like he truly meant it.

DAY 6

You woke up to the sound of rain.

It wasn’t the light, soothing kind. It was heavy pounding against the windows, tapping hard against the glass like the sky had something urgent to say. You rolled over instinctively and found Yoongi still asleep beside you, his arm wrapped loosely around your waist. He was still holding you. He looked peaceful.

For a long time, you didn’t move. You just watched him breathe, watched the way his lashes flickered slightly like he was dreaming. His features, usually so sharp with exhaustion, looked softer in the morning light. Younger. Like the version of him from the early days, before the CEO titles, before the international press, before he started measuring time in missed calls and delays.

He stirred, opened his mouth without opening his eyes. “You’re awake.”

“You’re sleeping in.” You commented.

“It’s raining.”

You stayed in bed most of the morning. No alarms. No calls. No meetings. It was the first time in… God, months that there wasn’t something else tearing him away. And maybe it was the weather, or maybe it was the way his hand found yours under the blankets, but something about it felt different. Softer. Realer.

Eventually, you wandered into the kitchen together, sleep heavy and still in your pajamas.

Yoongi made pancakes. He burned the first batch and cursed under his breath, and you laughed so hard you had to sit down. He pretended to pout, but there was color in his cheeks that hadn’t been there in weeks.

Yoongi turned off the stove and came to sit across from you at the small dining table. He carefully placed the two plates on the table, with as he bit his inner cheeks, admiring his artwork. You ate in comfortable silence.

You were washing the dishes when he suddenly asked from where he was seating.

“Do you still believe in us?”

You didn’t answer right away. You were done with the dishes but you still had your back facing him, as you busied yourself wiping the plates just to avoid looking at his face.

Part of you did. Part of you still saw the man who made you laugh with flour on his nose, who kissed your forehead when you couldn’t sleep, who wrote a love song in a spiral notebook just to keep from forgetting.

But there was another part. Smaller, quieter, but louder in recent months, that had grown weak and tired. Tired of holding everything up alone. Tired of waiting for your fiancé to look up and see you again.

So you told him the truth.

“I want to.” You sighed. “But I don’t want to keep holding onto something that you can easily decide to let go.”

“Don’t say easy.” He quickly defended. “It was never an easy decision.”

You finally turned and met his eyes. They looked slightly red and both of his hands were balled into fists.

“I was tired.” He said softly. “I can bear the work but I can’t stand listening to you on the phone being all happy but then catching you cry yourself to sleep.” He looked down, feeling ashamed. “And I know you keep saying that you don’t mind, but I do… I mind it. I don’t want you suffering like that.”

“Honest to God, I don’t care how many times I have to cry.” You snapped. “I cry because I’m a human being with emotions. But it pays off. It always pays off seeing you come home to me. Because I love you, damnit. I fucking love you and I hate you for giving up.” Your voice shook, a single tear fell down from your right eye.

Yoongi’s face crumpled like he had been slapped.

“I can’t give you a normal life…” His voice sounded so helpless and it broke you. “And I can’t just leave the responsibilities of the dream I’ve built in years.”

“I understand.”

Of course you did. You could never make him choose. You wouldn’t even dare. That wasn’t even logical.

“I have my closure.” You said as you harshly wiped your tears. Forcing a smile, you took a deep breath. “We still have today and I don’t wanna waste it.”

The rain continued into the afternoon, thick and steady. You stayed indoors, the two of you moving through the house like a memory you both wanted to relive. Watching old dramas with your legs tangled on the couch. Sharing a blanket and a single bowl of popcorn. Pausing the show to argue about plot twists like you used to. You played the old board game that had been sitting on the rack for so long that it sprayed comically thick dust when you grabbed it.

He kept reaching for you. Little things. A hand on your knee. His pinky curled around yours. Resting his chin on your shoulder when you went to get more snacks.

And you let him. Because unlike what you said to him, you too were afraid of forgetting this.

You ordered pizza and had Korean bbq for dinner. It seemed improper, impersonal. But both of you loved just sitting down and indulge in random what ifs, while sticking some beef and alcohol down your throats.

You missed seeing his gummy smile. You missed him being a smartass and hearing his random philosophical thought about the whole society. You missed… him.

If you knew it was going to be like this, maybe you shouldn’t had asked for the week. It would had been gentler for your heart.

And when he climbed in beside you that night, he finally reached in and kissed you. You kissed him back. His fingers moved slowly across your body, like he was afraid you’d break just by a mere touch. His lips moved from your mouth, your cheek, down to your neck. By the time he reached your chest, your tears had fallen freely.

It didn’t take him long to substitute the small hiccups to loud moanings of his name.

DAY 7

The sound of items being stuffed and moved woke you up. Zipper dragged loudly, your mind immediately picked up on the situation.

He was packing.

It was the final day. Of course you didn’t expect him to stay much longer but it still felt so surreal seeing him packing his clothes and knowing the real intention behind it.

You got up with your body still bare nude, you pulled the bedcover slightly over your chest. Your eyes met for a second, but he still kept going. You wanted to ask. Hell, you wanted to scream, cry, beg him to stay, but nothing came out from your mouth.

“I ordered lunch.” He said, still busy with the packing.

You didn’t realize that it was already noon. You quietly nodded and went to quickly shower yourself. You convinced yourself that you had accepted it all during the shower thinking session.

You were about to get up and wash the dishes when he suddenly asked you.

“Dance with me?”

You looked at him like he had gone insane. “There’s no beat.”

“I don’t care.”

So you stood and you danced. No rhythm. No real steps. Just swaying and vulnerable, his forehead pressed to yours. And even now, no tears. Maybe it had all been dried up at this point. Maybe you really had finally came to terms with everything.

“Do you remember when we danced like this in my old apartment?”

“In your old kitchen. I tripped on the rug and took you down with me.”

He chuckled lightly. “You kissed me afterwards.”

“You looked beautiful in that moment. Like someone real.” You confessed.

“I think I forgot how to be real for a while.”

You looked up and were surprised to meet his glassy eyes.

And here when you thought you had accepted everything, he cupped your cheeks and your walls broke down again.

“Give me a chance.”

“Wha— Yoongi, I thought you were leaving today.”

You panicked, cupping back his face so now both of you just grabbing each other faces like a couple of idiots.

“Give me a chance,” He repeated. “But not out of obligation. Not because of what we had. Because I know we still can be.”

Your heart thumped painfully.

“I’ll find someone to train and take over my day to day. It’ll be a long process but if you’re willing to wait, I will have time for you…” A single tear quickly fell down and a desperate smile appeared on his lips. “I can’t promise you anything really, I hate myself for that. And I hate myself even more because I know you deserve better. Even though I know you deserve someone who would never make you feel neglected… I still can't think I can live without you.”

His voice finally broke as he sobbed. It was the very first time in years and years of knowing him. Sure you had seen him cry once or twice, whether from a good movie, to actual sadness. But never like this.

Funnily enough, still, both of you were holding each other faces. You started breaking into tears too, finally after being in state of shock.

“You don’t get to say all these things now and expect me to forget what it felt like when you asked to give up on us last week as if I meant nothing to you.”

“I don’t expect that,” He said. “I just want a chance to earn your trust again, and a chance to be strong for myself.”

“If I say yes,” You shuddered. “I don’t want it to be a restart. I want a repair. You have to rebuild from the cracks, not erase them.”

“I know.” He nodded, sniffing.

“I need time.”

“You have the rest of my life.”

Your breath hitched. “I need you to stop thinking I’m weak because I can take it.” Finally, a smile appeared on your lips despite the tears raining down. “Because I can’t imagine living without you too.”

Yoongi exhaled, shoulders sagging with relief. But he didn’t reach for you right away. His hands were shaking, you felt it against your skin. He finally dropped his hands from your face. He waited.

You didn’t though. Instead leaned forward and pulled him in. You wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his neck. He held you back like someone who knew exactly what he had almost lost. He then kissed you like you were oxygen he desperately needed to survive.

There was so much to learn, so much to fix. But you were sure you could face anything as long as you got him by your side.

Thank you for reading! 💍

#bts fanfic #bts fic #bts scenarios #yoongi fanfic #yoongi scenarios #suga scenarios #yoongi x y/n #suga imagine #yoongi imagine #yoongi angst #suga angst #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #suga x you #suga x y/n #suga x reader #min yoongi #yoongi fluff

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natsaffection · 1 month ago

Text

Redline. Bonus 5.1 | N.R

Older!Motorsportboss!Natasha x Younger!Racing!Driver!Reader

Warnings: Mention of sex, feeling of replacement

Word count: 10,8k

A/n: I didn't think I'd type the title above ever again, but I'll have to do it a second time tomorrow, as there will be a second part..thank you so much ☀️ for this grandiose idea!!! Let's see if one of you finds the "mistake"/difference to the other parts..

The morning sun hadn’t even kissed the sky yet when your alarm buzzed quietly beside you. You silenced it with a quick swipe and glanced to your right. Natasha was curled up beneath the covers, her red hair spilling across the pillow in a rare moment of peace. Her breathing was soft, slow, even, and you took a second to soak it in.

You slipped out of bed quietly, careful not to wake her, and tiptoed across the suite to grab your gym bag. Your heart was already pumping, not just from excitement, but from something deeper, older. That itch in your chest that only the track could soothe. It was race season again. Time to put on the helmet and become who you really were.

The gym was empty, the way you liked it. No cameras. No agents. No engineers. Just the rhythmic hum of your breath and the burn of muscle as you pushed yourself through circuit after circuit, focusing on agility, reflexes, core strength. Every crunch, every punch, every bead of sweat was a promise you made to yourself, and to Natasha.

This season was going to be yours. Again.

By the time you stepped out of the shower, skin still tingling from the heat and heart pounding with post-workout adrenaline, you were practically vibrating. You wrapped a towel around yourself and padded back into the room, already mentally drafting a cheeky comment to wake Natasha with, something flirty, maybe teasing about her sleeping in while you were already hustling.

But the bed was empty. Still neatly made. A flicker of confusion passed through you. You checked your watch. Not that early..

You dressed quickly, tugging on a clean hoodie and joggers, and made your way down the hall to the team’s suite of offices. Most were still dark, except for one. Natasha’s. The door was open just a crack, enough to let the light spill out across the floor.

You approached slowly, the buzz in your veins dimming just a bit. Inside, Natasha sat behind her desk, eyes locked on her laptop, posture stiff. A dozen tabs were open on the monitor..data, driver analytics, telemetry charts. She didn’t look up right away when you stepped in. But you didn’t need to see her eyes to know something was off. You felt it, the way you feel a car start to slide just before the tires lose grip.

“Nat?” you said softly.

Natasha looked up, and her face didn’t match her usual morning calm. She had that tight look around her mouth, the one she wore when she was about to say something she didn’t want to.

“Hey. You’re up early.” Natasha said.

“I could say the same about you.” You leaned against the doorframe. “Didn’t expect to find you buried in data at six am.”

“I needed to get ahead of some things.” Natasha sat back in her chair, folding her arms. “Come in. Sit for a second.”

You blinked. That tone.

Not “I missed you.”

Not “How was your workout?”

Not even her clipped professional cadence.

Something else entirely. You crossed the room and sank into the chair opposite Natasha, studying her with narrowed eyes. “What’s going on?”

Natasha hesitated for a beat. Then she spoke.

“Willow Petrov.”

The name landed like a dropped wrench in a silent garage. Your brow furrowed. “From Formula 2?”

Natasha gave a short nod. “She’s twenty, Russian, ran with LunaTech last season. Three podiums. Got the best reaction time average in the pack. I’ve been watching her for a while.”

You tilted your head slowly. “Okay… why are we talking about her?”

Natasha exhaled. “She’s driving for us now. As your teammate.”

The room seemed to hold its breath. You blinked again, slower this time. Your brain raced to catch up, to reorganize the shape of your expectations. “What?”

“I signed her last night.” Natasha said, voice calm but unreadable. “It’ll be announced this afternoon.”

You stared at her. “I thought we were running solo again this season.”

“We were. But the board’s been pressuring for a second driver since last year. Sponsors too. We need more data from track simulations, better car-to-car telemetry feedback. And frankly, Willow’s too good to let go.”

A dozen thoughts flooded your head at once. You remembered Willow, bright, sharp, fearless. The type who cut corners like a knife and grinned at the podium like she belonged there, even when she didn’t win. A rookie, yes..but a talented one.

“She’s good.” you said slowly. “I’m not saying she isn’t. But this…changes things.”

“I know.”

“We have to split test runs, telemetry data, garage time. I’ll have to share my race engineer. She doesn’t know the car. Hell, she doesn’t know you. And I-”

Natasha stood then, walked around the desk, and crouched in front of you, placing a gentle hand on your knee. “Hey. Look at me.”

You did. “You are still my number one. On track. Off it. Nothing about that changes. But this team isn’t just about us anymore. It can’t be, if we want to grow. I need you to help me bring her in. Mentor her. Lead her.”

You searched Natasha’s face, heart twisting with something you didn’t want to name. Not jealousy. Not fear. Just..uncertainty.

“Can I think about it?” you asked quietly.

“You don’t have to decide anything. Just meet her. She’s arriving tomorrow.” You nodded slowly. Tomorrow. Everything was already changing.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur.

After the bombshell about Willow, you had thrown yourself into team meetings with a sort of sharp-edged focus, the kind Natasha had come to recognize over the months. When you were rattled, you didn’t fall apart, you doubled down. Your voice was steady during briefing, your analysis sharp as ever, but Natasha could feel the undercurrent. The quiet weight behind your eyes. The slightly-too-stiff posture. The questions that weren’t really about strategy.

Still, no one else in the room seemed to notice. To them, you were the reigning champion. The top driver of the Romanoff Racing team. Unshakeable.

Natasha knew better.

“Alright.” she said as they wrapped up for the day, clapping her hands once as the crew began dispersing. “Tomorrow we welcome Willow to the garage. I want everyone on their A-game. Let’s show her what a real team looks like.”

You didn’t speak as you gathered your notes. Just nodded and slipped your phone into your pocket. Natasha let you walk beside her in silence down the corridor, until you reached the private team garage, a sacred space for the two of you when the world felt too loud.

You finally spoke, voice quiet. “You think she’s ready?”

Natasha glanced at you. “She’s raw, but she’s smart. She’ll adjust. But she’s not you.”

You gave a tiny laugh under your breath. “That supposed to make me feel better?”

Natasha smiled faintly. “I’m not trying to make you feel better. I’m telling you the truth, Y/n.”

Dinner that evening was something simple. Homemade pasta. Natasha had cooked, which in itself was a rare gesture, part apology, part grounding ritual. You sat on the couch, legs tangled under the blanket, eating straight from the bowls, a slow jazz record playing softly in the background.

You finally started to loosen. You leaned into Natasha’s side, head resting on her shoulder, chewing quietly.

“She’s going to ask questions about you.” you murmured after a long stretch of silence.

“She might.”

“You gonna tell her we’re together?”

“I’m going to tell her you’re my top driver.” Natasha said with a smirk. “Everything else, she’ll figure out the moment she sees us look at each other.”

You gave a small scoff. “You’re obnoxiously confident sometimes.”

Natasha pressed a kiss to your temple. “And you love it.”

Later that night, the apartment had gone quiet. Natasha had gone to wash up, and you stayed curled on the couch, hoodie pulled up over your head, the laptop balanced across your legs. The screen glowed softly in the dark, video after video, all the same subject.

Willow Petrov | Rising Star - F2 Highlights

Willow Petrov Onboard | Monaco Hairpin Dive

Willow Petrov: 2024 Season Recap

Her style was aggressive, but clean. No wasted movement. Calculated chaos. And she had this look behind the helmet, fierce, wide-eyed, maybe even a little reckless. She reminded you of yourself, once.

Too much.

So when Natasha padded back into the room, damp hair tied in a loose knot, wearing only a black tank and sweatpants, she paused in the doorway, smirking at the screen before speaking.

“You stalking your new teammate already?”

You startled, slammed the laptop shut too quickly. “I was just..researching.”

“Mm-hm.” Natasha crossed her arms, clearly entertained. “Researching. With that little frown and everything.”

“I’m not jealous..” you muttered, cheeks flushed. “I’m just…making sure I know what I’m working with.”

Natasha stepped forward, eyes gleaming as she knelt in front of you, resting her hands on your thighs. “It’s okay if you are. A little.”

You met her gaze, trying to hold it, trying to be cool. But something warm bloomed in your chest at how amused Natasha looked, like this was something endearing. Like you weren’t being ridiculous, but…cute.

“She’s not a threat.” Natasha said softly. “To your seat. To us.”

You swallowed. “I just don’t want to lose what we have.”

“You’re not going to.” Natasha’s voice was sure, low, steady. “You’re mine. On every track. In every city. In every way that matters. There’s no one else I want in that car..or in this bed.”

You looked down at her, and your voice was barely a whisper. “Promise?”

Natasha rose onto her knees, kissed you slow and deep, her hand slipping to the back of your neck. “I promise.” she murmured against your lips. And for the first time that day, you let yourself believe it.

The next morning came bright and early, sun slicing through the tall windows of the paddock hospitality suite like a blade. The team’s logo, sleek and minimal, black and red, gleamed from banners, transport trucks, even the espresso machine. A few engineers were already moving in the garage, prepping telemetry equipment and adjusting the simulator booth in the corner.

You stood just outside, arms folded, watching the driveway. You told yourself you weren’t nervous. You’d given track tours a dozen times. You’d welcomed new engineers, new sponsors, new assistants. You’d even done a handshake round with a crown prince once, back when Natasha’s team had first gone international.

But something about this one felt different. When the black car finally pulled up, you recognized her instantly. She practically bounced out, tiny compared to the hulking luggage she hauled behind her. She wore the team’s new windbreaker, sleeves a little too long, brown hair in a messy braid, and a smile stretched across her face like it had been glued there for hours.

Big eyes. Too much energy. Nervous as hell. You swallowed a smile and stepped forward. “You must be Willow.”

Willow straightened like she’d been caught doing something wrong. “Y-Yes! Hi!”

“Hi.” You offered your hand. “Welcome to Romanoff Racing.”

Willow shook it with both hands, her grip too eager, almost bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Oh my God, I can’t believe this is real..” she said breathlessly. “I’ve been watching your races since I was fifteen, I mean, not in a creepy way, I just-God, that sounded creepy, didn’t it?”

You let out a short laugh. “You’re fine..” Willow blushed deeply, nodding rapidly.

Just then, Natasha stepped out from the garage, clipboard in hand, her presence commanding even in jeans and a fitted t-shirt. Willow visibly straightened again, as if she were back in military school. Natasha gave her a nod, eyes cool but not unkind.

“Willow. Good to have you with us.”

“Th-Thank you, Ms. Romanoff..” Willow stammered.

Natasha turned to you, that subtle look passing between you like a secret no one else could read. “I’ve got a strategy meeting with the core team. Think you can show her around?”

You nodded. “Sure.”

“Stick to pit lane, garage, and test paddock. Don’t take her near the media center yet. They don’t know we’ve signed her.” Natasha paused. “And for the love of God, don’t let her try to sit in your car.”

Willow blinked. “I would never- I mean, just looking! I swear!”

You couldn’t help it, you laughed again. Natasha smirked, kissed your cheek (subtle but intentional), and then disappeared into the garage.

Willow watched her go with wide eyes. “…She’s terrifying.”

“She’s not that bad.” you said, walking toward the pit entrance.

“She is. But like, in a powerful-boss-woman way.”

You shot her a glance. “She’s also my girlfriend.”

Willow froze. “Oh. Oh. Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean..I didn’t know you two were, um- wow. Cool. Very cool. That explains the…cheek kiss.”

You arched a brow, biting down a grin. “You okay?”

“Yeah!” Willow squeaked. “Just trying not to implode.”

The track was still quiet, only the faint sounds of drills and tires being moved echoing through the pit lane. You walked her through the various zones: the telemetry stations, tire warmers, pit boxes, the private rest pods hidden behind the main lounge.

Willow asked questions, so many questions. About the car’s brake bias system, about fuel management in wet conditions, about how the team handled your post-crash comeback. Her eyes sparkled with a thousand unspoken thoughts, and despite yourself, you started to like her. She was too earnest to hate.

You stopped just at the edge of the garage, where your race car stood under soft LED lights, its sleek chassis black with crimson accents.

Willow gasped. “Is that yours?”

You nodded. “Every piece of her.”

“She’s beautiful.”

“She’s temperamental, high-maintenance, and will betray you the moment you relax.” You ran a hand across the wing. “But yeah. She’s mine.”

Willow stepped forward, a little reverent. “What’s it like? Sitting in her. That moment right before the lights go out?”

You turned to her, studying the rookie’s hopeful face. “It’s like…you disappear. And all that’s left is instinct. Speed. Survival.”

Willow looked down, serious now. “I don’t know if I’ll be good enough.”

“You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.”

“I thought I’d have more time..” she admitted. “To grow. To learn. And now I’m being dropped next to you. You’re a world champion. You’re her partner. What if I screw up?”

You softened. “You will.” you said simply. “We all do. But we get better. That’s how this works. Just don’t try to be me.”

Willow looked up, surprised. “Be you. That’s who she signed.”

Willow nodded slowly. “Okay. I’ll try.”

You gave her a small smile. “That’s all you need to do.”

The tour ended as the midday sun baked the tarmac in a golden shimmer. Willow had talked nonstop for nearly an hour, and though you didn’t admit it out loud, the kid had started to grow on you. Somewhere between her overly enthusiastic obsession with brake cooling systems and the way her eyes lit up when they entered the data lab, you felt something unfamiliar settle in your chest.

Not irritation. Not jealousy. Something closer to nostalgia.

You returned to the garage, where the hum of the team buzzed around you like bees, techs checking tire pressure, interns typing rapidly, radios crackling between engineers. The pulse of the season was coming alive again, and you could feel it deep in your bones.

Natasha appeared just as you stepped back into the paddock. She’d changed into her track jacket, her red hair pulled back in a low ponytail, clipboard tucked under one arm. Her presence was casual, but commanding, as always.

“How’s the tour?” she asked, directing the question to Willow, though her eyes flicked briefly toward you.

Willow straightened again. “Incredible. I..I don’t even know how to process it all. I feel like I’m dreaming.”

Natasha gave her a small smile, the kind that was rare and real. “Good. I like drivers who know how to appreciate where they are. But now it’s time to stop dreaming and start driving.”

Willow blinked. “Wait. N-Now?”

Natasha gestured toward the second car in the garage, sleek, matte gray, less tuned than your beast but still mean enough to roar.

“Nothing major. Just a few laps. Get the feel of the track. It’s different when it’s ours.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Didn’t waste any time, did you?”

Natasha smirked. “Neither do you.”

Willow looked between you, nervous again but clearly vibrating with excitement. “I- yes. Absolutely. Thank you, Ms. Romanoff.”

“Call me Natasha when we’re not in front of sponsors.” she said, turning to toss her clipboard on the table. “Suit up. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Within twenty minutes, Willow was in the car. The Romanoff test track wasn’t part of any international circuit. It was private land, built with obsessive precision, modeled after the most complex corners of Monaco, Silverstone, and Spa, all folded into a brutal loop of tight chicanes, high-speed straights, and elevation changes that punished hesitation.

It wasn’t a track for rookies.

You stood with your arms crossed beside Natasha at the observation deck just above pit lane, watching the camera feed light up as the car pulled from the garage.

“She looks scared.” you said.

“She should be.” Natasha replied. “Fear keeps your hands steady.”

The engine roared to life and Willow was off, taking the first few laps with visible caution. Corners were wide, braking early, no aggressive downshifts. You leaned against the railing, unimpressed.

“She’s holding back.”

“She’s learning the rhythm.” Natasha said, not taking her eyes off the screen. “Watch.”

You did. And after lap three, something shifted. The lines tightened. Her timing smoothed. She stopped dancing around the turns and started slicing through them. Lap four, she nailed the uphill chicane without touching the apex rumble strip. On five, she drifted wide just enough to preserve tire heat without compromising the downforce.

Your brow furrowed. “…Huh.”

Natasha’s smile was faint, knowing. “She’s good.”

“She’s very good.”

You watched in silence as Willow pushed through another two laps, faster each time. Still not elite, but promising. Focused. Hungry. She cut the final corner too sharp on the last run and skidded slightly, catching herself at the edge of the gravel. She brought the car in after that, helmeted head turning as she entered the garage and coasted to a stop.

When the engine went quiet, you let out a low breath. “…Okay,” you muttered. “That can’t go unanswered.”

Natasha turned. “Oh?”

Your smile grew slowly. “Give me ten minutes and my girl back in the paddock.”

“You want to race her?”

You turned to her, eyes gleaming with challenge. “You wanted her tested. Let’s see how she handles the heat.”

Natasha considered you for a beat, then nodded.

“Don’t go easy on her.”

“Wasn’t planning to.”

Ten minutes later, you were back in your suit. Helmet in hand. Every step toward the car felt like slipping back into a second skin. The hum of the garage faded. Everything outside the cockpit was background noise.

As you lowered yourself into the car, you glanced toward Willow, who was standing by the pit wall, helmet still on, clearly unsure whether to be thrilled or terrified. You gave her a thumbs-up before the visor came down.

And then, the track swallowed you. Willow took the lead on the first lap, you let her. Let her feel that taste of control, let her believe for a second she had the upper hand.

But by lap two, you were tightening the gap. By three, you were on her tail, reading every line she chose, every hesitation. On the fourth lap, as you hit the blind uphill switchback, you saw your chance.

You dove in, late brake, tighter line, a calculated brush that skirted legality, and took the inside.

Willow blinked. Hesitated. That was all you needed. From then on, it wasn’t even a contest. The next lap was yours, sharp, precise, and punishing. Your car became an extension of your body. Every muscle aligned with purpose. You were wind and fire, all instinct and fury, tearing up the track to prove one thing:

You still had it.

And by the time you crossed the line, your car a full second ahead, the point had been made loud and clear. When you pulled back into the garage, engines cooling with the ticking sound of victory, you climbed out, removed your helmet, and walked toward Willow, whose face was flushed behind her visor.

She flipped it up slowly.

“…Holy shit..” Willow whispered.

You smirked. “Welcome to the big leagues.”

Natasha joined you then, arms folded, the ghost of a grin tugging at her lips. “I think that counts as your initiation.”

Willow looked between you, still catching her breath. “I want to be that good.”

“You will be.” you said, slapping her lightly on the shoulder. “Just not today.”

As the sun dipped behind the track’s final corner, casting long shadows across the asphalt, Natasha’s voice cut through softly, “Looks like I’ve got two monsters on my team now.”

You looked over, and for the first time since the rookie’s name was mentioned, you smiled without reservation.

“Yeah.” you said. “But only one queen.”

——

It had been six days since the race. Six days since you smoked Willow on the track. Six days since the rookie came off the tarmac breathless and wide-eyed like she’d touched fire, and wanted more.

Since then, the team had shifted into full gear. Training simulations. PR meetings. Car telemetry reworks. Everyone was running on caffeine, deadlines, and pit-lane adrenaline. And somewhere in the chaos, you started to feel it:

Distance.

At first, it was small. A skipped coffee. A missed debrief. Natasha pulling Willow aside in the garage, gesturing with that intense, low tone she always used when she wanted to build a driver up from the inside out. You had heard it before. You remembered how rare it was to be spoken to like that.

Now you watched it from a distance. On the fourth day, you showed up early for simulator drills, but Natasha had already booked Willow in your slot. No heads-up. Just a polite nod from the tech.

“Romanoff said to prioritize rookie reflex calibration..” he mumbled.

You had just nodded and turned away, jaw tight. You weren’t the rookie anymore. You weren’t the rescue project. You were the reigning world champion. And somehow, you felt completely invisible.

That night, the compound was unusually quiet. The rest of the team had gone out for a media dinner, but you had passed. Natasha hadn’t even asked if you were coming, she’d assumed you weren’t, too caught up talking setups with Willow, who had practically bounced through the garage all day with her notebook and never-ending questions.

You stood alone now in the garage, long after the rest had left, staring at your car in the low lights. Just you and the beast. The car didn’t judge. The car didn’t compare. You ran your hand across the edge of the carbon fiber bodywork, fingertips ghosting over the Romanoff logo near the cockpit.

How many times had this car saved you? How many times had Natasha? And now it felt like none of it was enough.

A sharp click of heels on the concrete behind you broke the silence. You didn’t turn.

“I figured I’d find you here.” Natasha said quietly.

You swallowed. “Thought you had dinner with the prodigy.”

Natasha approached slowly, a slight edge of confusion in her voice. “Willow went with the tech crew. I was looking for you.”

“You’ve been doing a lot of looking lately.” you said, the words out before you could stop them.

Natasha paused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You finally turned to face her. “You tell me. You’ve been glued to her since the day she arrived. Training, testing, feedback loops, hell, you even rearranged my sim time.”

“That wasn’t personal, baby.” Natasha said. “She needs the hours.”

“And I don’t?”

“You’re already a world champion.”

“Right..” you snapped, stepping back. “So now I’m just the legacy act? The girl who came broken, who got rebuilt, but isn’t new enough or shiny enough to get your attention anymore?”

Natasha’s face hardened. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” You laughed, but it wasn’t funny. “You didn’t have to fight for her. You didn’t have to convince her to stay when her nightmares made her puke at night. You didn’t hold her hand when she spun out and started screaming because she thought she was flying into a wall again. She came ready-made. Clean slate. Untouched.”

Natasha flinched, subtle, but it was there. “I never saw you smile at me like that, back then.”

“You mean when you didn’t trust anyone and couldn’t look me in the eye?” Natasha’s voice was low now. Dangerous. “Don’t rewrite history just because it hurts.”

Your breath caught. You stared at each other for a long moment. Everything in your chest was burning, shame, longing, fear. You hated how small you felt. How much you cared.

“I know what this is..” you said quietly. “She’s the driver you always wanted.”

Natasha stepped forward, firm. “Stop it.”

“She is.” you insisted, voice cracking. “No damage. No baggage. You didn’t have to rebuild her. You just got to mold her. And I-“

“You were never a project to me.”

“You say that, but it’s starting to feel like I was.”

The silence between you was deafening. Natasha took a breath, slow, deliberate. “Do you really think I love you because I had to?”

You didn’t answer, and natasha’s expression softened, less sharp, more raw. “I love you because you fought. Because you refused to stay down when every bone in your body told you to quit. I love the way you clawed your way back to the wheel, even when no one else believed in you. That’s not pity. That’s admiration.”

“Then why does it feel like you’ve forgotten I’m still here?” you whispered.

Natasha looked stunned, just for a second. Then she reached out, gently, cupping your face. Her thumbs brushed your cheeks, you hadn’t realized you’d been crying until then.

“I haven’t forgotten you, Y/n.” Natasha murmured. “I’ve been looking at you every day and thinking: God, she’s still the fire I fell for. But I didn’t realize you were feeling this.”

“I didn’t either..” you said, your voice hoarse. “Not until she showed up and you stopped seeing me the way you used to.”

Natasha shook her head. “No. I see you. I always see you. You just started turning away.”

You closed your eyes. You wanted to believe her. Wanted to let it go. But the doubt sat heavy in your gut like lead.

“You need to tell me when I miss something.” Natasha said, pulling you in closer. “Not when it’s too late. Not when you’ve already built a story in your head.”

You rested your forehead against hers. “She’s good.”

“She is.”

“But I’m still better.”

Natasha smiled. “Goddamn right, you are.”

A beat passed. Then you added, quietly, “But I still needed to hear it.”

Natasha kissed you then, slow, grounding, a promise sealed without words. And for the first time in days, you let yourself believe that you weren’t being replaced. You were still the heart of this team. Still hers.

——

The press tent was larger than usual, elevated seating for journalists, polished banners on either side of the platform, and every camera lens locked in with laser precision. The Romanoff Racing emblem hovered on every backdrop, flanked by the logos of their newest sponsors. A gentle buzz filled the air, expectation, speculation, heat from the lights.

And at the center of it all: Natasha.

She walked onto the stage like she owned it, because, in a way, she still does. Her tailored black blazer, fitted white blouse, and subtle smile made her look every bit the icon. Calculated cool. Controlled grace. She stood at the mic with the same poise she showed when strategizing before a stormy Grand Prix.

“Ladies and gentlemen..” she began, her voice even, but firm. “Thank you for joining us today. As most of you know, Romanoff Racing is entering its fifth season on the circuit. We’ve broken records, rewritten what a comeback can look like, thanks in large part to our champion, Y/n.”

There was a small wave of applause, and backstage, you exhaled slowly as the spotlight grazed you for a moment, just enough to burn.

“But this year..” Natasha continued, “we’re growing. I’ve made the decision to bring in a second driver. A rising star. Someone with the kind of raw instinct and racing spirit I haven’t seen in a long time.”

A pause. “Please welcome our new official team driver: Willow Petrov.”

The tent erupted. Cameras flashed wildly as Willow stepped onto the stage, her team jacket pressed and spotless, her blonde braid tucked neatly under a Romanoff Racing cap. Her cheeks were pink from nerves, but she beamed like a kid on Christmas. There was no hiding her awe.

She took her place beside Natasha and gave the mic a nervous glance before speaking. “It’s… honestly insane to be here. I used to watch her replays on YouTube between my F2 races..” she admitted with a laugh. “and now I’m wearing the same patch. I’m here to learn, grow, and drive my heart out for this team.”

Natasha smiled, laying a subtle hand on Willow’s shoulder as she guided her back a step. Then came the volley of questions, standard press fare at first, then sharper, messier.

“Natasha, was this a long-term plan to bring in new blood?”

“Willow, do you feel pressure being compared to a world champion teammate?”

“Y/n, how does it feel to share the spotlight after carrying the team solo for so long?”

That last one hit. You, seated now beside Willow and Natasha, leaned forward to the mic. Your smile was tight, practiced.

“We’re not here to compete with each other. We’re here to win, together. That’s what matters.”

A professional answer. Unshakable. But inside, something twisted. You watched as Natasha angled slightly toward Willow during the Q&A. A nod here, a subtle prompt there, encouraging. Guiding.

The same way she used to do with you. You didn’t even realize you were clenching your fist under the table until Willow’s elbow bumped you gently.

“You good?” Willow whispered, low enough the mics wouldn’t catch it.

You blinked and looked at her. The girl’s big blue eyes were full of concern, not competition.

And for a moment, you felt bad for being annoyed with her. “Yeah.” you murmured back. “Just waiting for the fun part.”

After the conference, you were ushered outside for the official media line, step-and-repeat photos, handshake shots, and a trio pose in front of the new car prototype. You had done this a hundred times. You knew how to stand. Where to smile. When to tilt your chin for that ‘effortless confidence’ angle.

But today, it all felt tight around the edges. “Okay, Natasha in the middle, Y/n on the left, Willow on the right..perfect!” one of the PR reps called out.

Flashbulbs exploded. Willow grinned wide, clearly new to the pressure but trying her best to keep up. Her hand hovered awkwardly near your back, unsure if she was supposed to pose with you or not.

You glanced at her. Then, with a tiny sigh, you reached out and gently pulled Willow a little closer.

“Relax..”you muttered. “We’re not enemies. We’re just expensive mannequins right now.”

Willow laughed, nervous but grateful. “You’re kind of intimidating, you know that?”

You raised a brow. “Me? You’re the one everyone’s calling the future of Romanoff Racing.”

Willow looked over at you, more seriously now. “Maybe. But you’re the heart of it.”

That stung in a way you didn’t expect. You weren’t sure if it was pity, or admiration, or just awkward honesty, but it cut through the noise.

More flashes. Another angle. Another forced smile. Then Natasha stepped between you for a tighter photo, resting a hand on each of your backs. The press roared, headlines already forming.

“The Queen, the Champion, and the Prodigy.”

You tried not to flinch at the way Natasha’s hand lingered slightly longer on Willow’s shoulder than yours. Tried not to let your smile falter. Tried not to think about how much had changed..and how fast.

Later, when the crowd had cleared and the cameras were packed away, you stayed behind in the now-empty paddock, hands stuffed in your pockets, sunglasses still on. Natasha found you there, leaning against one of the sponsor walls, staring at nothing.

“You did good.” Natasha said softly. “Held your own.”

You gave a small shrug. “I’ve had practice.”

There was a beat of silence. “You looked like you wanted to be anywhere but next to me up there.”

You turned toward her, finally taking the shades off. Your eyes were tired. Honest. “I just miss when I didn’t have to share you.”

Natasha didn’t smile. She didn’t lecture. She just stepped forward and took your hand. “You don’t have to share what we have. But you do have to trust it.”

“I’m trying..” you whispered. “But every time you look at her like she’s something special, I wonder if I’m just…fading.”

“You’re not fading.” Natasha said, her voice low and firm. “You’re shining. And the only reason I even brought her in was because I wanted to protect you. Give you someone beside you on the road. Not behind. Not in front. Beside.”

You closed your eyes, leaned into her touch. It still hurt. But at least now you knew: You weren’t invisible.

Not yet.

The week leading up to the race had been relentless. Training drills. Lap simulations. PR follow-ups. Tire compound testing. A new aero package install that barely made it past Friday’s technical inspection.

And somewhere in between, you had started sleeping with one arm under your pillow and one hand curled into a fist, like you were bracing for something you couldn’t quite name.

Willow, for her part, had thrown herself into the grind with youthful fire, running morning laps in the rain, asking the race engineers questions until midnight, sipping black coffee like it was a secret weapon. Her natural instincts were beginning to polish into something sharper. More refined. You noticed. And for the first time, you stopped feeling jealous, and started feeling hungry.

The qualifying day sun was harsh and dry, high in a cloudless sky, beating down on the Romanoff Racing paddock like a spotlight that wouldn’t turn off. The air shimmered with heatwaves above the tarmac. Cameras hovered, drones buzzed, and pit crews moved like silent machines around their cars.

This was it. Solo time trials. No traffic. No slipstreams. Just driver vs. track, one at a time. Every corner counted. Every tenth of a second was a kingmaker, or a curse.

The starting order for the qualifying runs had been drawn the night before. Willow would go out first for Romanoff Racing. You would go last.

The reigning champion. The final roar.

Inside the garage, Willow paced back and forth in her suit, her gloves half-on, eyes bouncing between her race engineer and Natasha. The kid was wired like a live wire, bouncing with nerves, soaking in every word Natasha fed her through the headset mic.

You sat on a stool in the corner, helmet in your lap, one leg crossed over the other, quiet and observant. You weren’t jealous, not really.. But there was a grating sound in your head you couldn’t turn off. Natasha’s voice. Gentle. Encouraging. Proud.

“Take a clean line through 11, watch the outside rumble. Brake later if the tires warm fast enough.”

“Like that. That’s the right read.”

“Trust your gut, don’t overthink the apex.”

You ground your jaw. You used to hear those words. Back when you needed them. Now, you didn’t get so much as a nod.

Willow stepped into the car and rolled onto the track. The garage emptied to the pit wall, where engineers stood with headsets, telemetry readouts glowing. Natasha followed, slipping on her shades like she was watching her personal investment roll into orbit.

You didn’t go with them. You stayed in the shade. Then you stood up, pulled your cap low, and walked. Elsewhere on the paddock, the atmosphere was different, less rigid, more relaxed. Some of the other drivers were lounging under the sponsor tents, sipping water, exchanging banter, or pretending not to care.

You wandered near the corner where some of the lesser-known, but fast, independent drivers hung out. Guys from underground teams. Not rookies, not legends..just raw talent.

You leaned against a stack of tires, arms crossed, not saying much at first. “L/N, you going soft on us?” one of them joked, a smirking Frenchman named Jules. “You’re not watching your little protégé?”

You shrugged. “She’s not mine.”

“You saying that like it’s not already in the headlines..” someone else teased. “The Queen and the Kid. All eyes on Romanoff.”

Another chuckle. Then a quieter voice chimed in, “You hear about that circuit run? Off-record? Midnight, no cameras, real speed.”

You raised an eyebrow. The group shifted subtly, gauging your interest. You didn’t respond right away, but your gaze held. One of them, stocky, buzz cut, tattooed fingers, grinned. “What, the world champ thinking about getting her hands dirty?”

A few laughs. Someone leaned closer. “Wouldn’t that be something? You on a back-alley grid with the rest of us rats.”

You gave a lopsided smile. Didn’t confirm. Didn’t deny. But something about it thrilled you. The rawness. The danger. The lack of polish. No PR team. No pressure..

Just you and the car.

They saw that spark in you. And they liked it. You didn’t agree. But you didn’t shut it down either. And somewhere deep in your gut, the idea didn’t seem so far-fetched.

You walked back in just as Willow’s final lap flashed across the telemetry screen:

1:20.408

Gasps. Claps. A low cheer from the Romanoff Racing pit team.

P1. For now.

Your stomach dropped. Natasha turned to you, eyes bright behind her sunglasses. “She nailed it. Best lap of the day so far.”

You didn’t reply. Just reached for your gloves. Something in Natasha’s tone, maybe pride, maybe surprise..lit a fuse inside you.

Willow climbed out of the car moments later, flushed and beaming, helmet off and braid soaked in sweat.

“I think I blacked out during sector three.” she panted.

“You didn’t.” Natasha replied. “You just drove like you meant it.”

You met Willow’s eyes briefly. The girl still looked like she worshipped you. But that made it worse somehow. Because now you had to remind everyone who built this team’s legacy.

Your lap was up next.

You pulled on the helmet. Closed the visor. The world shrunk to engine hum and breath.

Radio check.

“Comms clear. You ready?”

“Always.”

“No overdrive early. Hold back on sector one, save the tires for the back half. We only need one clean lap. Not a death wish.”

You tightened your grip on the wheel.

“I’m not here to be clean. I’m here to be fast.”

Natasha didn’t reply. The light turned green, and you floored it. You took sector one tight, ignoring Natasha’s caution. The tires screamed at the high-speed curve through turn six. You leaned hard into the chicane, barely clipping the apex, riding the edge of the curbs with millimeter precision.

Sector two: near-perfect. You braked a split-second later than anyone else dared at turn eleven, kissing the wall on exit without losing speed.

Sector three: the fast zone. No brakes. Pure throttle. Pure fury.

You were flying. By the time you crossed the line, your final time flashed across the board:

1:19.774

Silence. Then a collective inhale from the pit. You sat in the car, helmet still on, staring ahead as the data streamed in.

P1.

Back in the garage, Natasha pulled off her headset slowly. The corner of her mouth lifted. “She’s still got fire.”

Willow watched the screen, eyes wide, but there was no bitterness. Only awe.

“She’s not human..” Willow whispered. “She’s art with an engine.” Natasha didn’t reply. But the look in her eyes said enough.

You returned minutes later, pulling off your helmet in one slow, deliberate motion. Your eyes met Natasha’s. Not smug. Not smiling..Just raw.

“I needed that..” you said quietly.

Natasha stepped closer. “You earned that.”

Willow came up beside you, flushed and panting. “I thought I had it…”

You gave her a glance. “You almost did.”

You stood there in silence, three women. First, second, and the one who saw both sides. For now, Romanoff Racing ruled the grid. But underneath the steel and sweat and smiles..Something else was brewing.

——

The hotel room was quiet.

Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city sparkled under a velvet sky. Horns in the distance. Soft wind curling through the open slats of the terrace door. The whole world was moving, just not here.

Here, it was still. You lay on your side, facing the window, bare shoulders half-draped in sheets. Your hair still damp from a late shower, your mind still too full from the day. The numbers of your lap time looped in your head. 1:19.774.

A victory. But somehow, not enough. Behind you, Natasha was lying on her back, one arm tucked behind her head, the other resting near your spine. Not touching. Just there.

The silence between you was soft, not cold, but it carried weight. You don’t know how to speak the ache that lingered in your chest. The quiet, bitter curl of doubt that still whispered..

What if she doesn’t need me anymore?

Then, without warning, Natasha shifted. She reached, slow and deliberate, and pulled you gently onto her, guiding your body across her own like it was something she’d done a hundred times, and it was. Legs tangled. Hands at your waist. You blinked down at her, surprised.

“…What are you doing?”

Natasha looked up, eyes calm, steady. “Reminding you.”

You frowned, confused. “Of what?”

“That you don’t have to be scared.” Natasha said simply. “That I’m not going anywhere.”

You froze. Of course..Natasha’s fingers brushed your lower back, tracing the faint curve of your spine with absent reverence. “I know that look in your eyes..” she murmured. “The one you try to hide behind your helmet. The one that says ‘I’m slipping.’”

“I’m not-”

“You don’t have to lie to me, Y/n.”

You closed your mouth. Natasha’s voice softened, like velvet over steel. “You think because I’m proud of her, I’ve stopped being proud of you.”

“I know you are..” you whispered.

“Do you?”

You looked away. That silence told Natasha everything. She sat up slightly, pressing her forehead against yours. Her breath was warm. Her voice firm.

“You are not being replaced. Willow’s a driver. You are everything. You are the reason this team has a heartbeat. You are why I built this whole empire in the first place.”

Your throat tightened. “I just..sometimes I feel like-”

Natasha didn’t let you finish. She kissed you. Deep, slow, anchoring. And you melted into it, not because it was heat, but because it was home.

When Natasha rolled you fully beneath her, fingers trailing down your ribs, her mouth never left yours. Her touch wasn’t demanding, it was declarative.

You are mine. You are seen. You are still the fire.

You didn’t speak again. You didn’t need to.

The Next Morning – 6:48 AM

The car ride to the track was quiet in the front. Loud in the back. Natasha drove, one hand on the wheel, the other resting easily against the center console. Her face was set, calm, already mentally halfway through the first ten laps.

In the rearview mirror, she watched you. Head against the window, music in your ears, hoodie up, one hand loosely gripping your phone in your lap. You weren’t asleep, but you weren’t here, either. Lost in thought. In routine. In preparation.

Natasha didn’t say anything. She just watched you. Softly. In the passenger seat, Willow was a whirlwind of motion. She had her phone out, snapping photos of the sunrise over the city skyline, the rows of transport trucks pulling into the paddock, the backs of race trailers covered in sponsor logos.

“God, this is insane!!” Willow muttered, more to herself than anyone else. “I can’t believe we’re really here..”

Natasha smirked faintly. “It’s always real at the first corner.”

Willow didn’t even flinch. “I’m ready.”

She meant it. Her excitement wasn’t childish anymore. It was focused. Sharpened. Natasha glanced at her, proud. Then back at the mirror.

Your gaze was on the road. But your fingers tapped once, almost in rhythm to Natasha’s signal light. A quiet acknowledgment.

The moment the car pulled into the underground entrance to the paddock, cameras began flashing. They hadn’t even stepped out yet.

Natasha cut the engine and sat for a beat. “You two know the drill.”

You pulled out your earbuds and tucked them into your pocket. Still silent, but sharp now. Willow adjusted her jacket and reached for her media pass lanyard.

“God, there’s already like fifty of them..” she muttered. Natasha stepped out first. The sound of shutters exploding hit instantly. Flashes. Voices. Shouts.

“ROMANOFF, OVER HERE!”

“WILLOW, SMILE FOR SKY SPORTS!”

“Y/N! ANY COMMENT ON THE RIVALRY?”

You followed, hoodie up, sunglasses on. No expression. Willow followed last, almost jumping at the barrage of attention, but she didn’t flinch. She smiled wide. Waved once.

They didn’t stop walking. They didn’t answer questions. The three of you moved in sync toward the garage, driver, driver, boss. And behind every flash, the story was writing itself:

“Romanoff Racing Arrives, One Team, Two Stars, All Eyes On Gold.”

But behind the headline, between the silences and the stolen glances, only one truth mattered: You were here. And you were ready to burn the track down.

You sat in your chair, arms folded, legs crossed. Your race suit was half-zipped, the sleeves knotted at your waist. Your face unreadable.

Willow was across from you, helmet on the table, bouncing her leg under the chair, nervous energy leaking through the edges of her focused expression.

Natasha stood at the head of the room, pointer in one hand, the other resting on the back of her chair. Not smiling. Not lecturing. Just speaking, measured and exact.

“We’re going soft-hard-medium. Staggered stops. Y/n, you’re opening with pace. I want a gap by lap 12.”

You nodded. “Copy.”

“Willow..” Natasha said, voice shifting subtly, “you’re staying with Costa and Wolfe. Buffer zone. You’re not chasing him, not unless I call for it.”

Willow’s brow furrowed slightly, but she didn’t argue. “Understood.”

Natasha clicked a button. A screen lit up with a predictive sim. “There’s a 20% chance of light rain in sector three near the end. If it happens, we hold track position. No unnecessary battles.”

You tilted your head, watching her closely. This wasn’t her usual tone. There was something behind it. A stiffness. An uncertainty.

Minutes later, you sat in pole, visor down, surrounded by cameras and chaos. The air reeked of fuel and heat. A heartbeat pulsed under your palms, yours or the car’s, you didn’t know anymore.

“Y/n, final check. Comms clear?”

“Clear and ready.”

“Good. Watch your rear into turn three. Wolfe will try to dive late.”

“Let him try.”

“Willow, confirm comms.”

“Clear. Heart rate’s at 110. I’m breathing.”

“Good. Just survive the first five laps. The rest will come to you, okay?”

Your jaw twitched inside your helmet. There it was again..The tone-

Lights out.

The roar was immediate. Four-wide dive into the first corner. You took the inside clean, perfectly timed gear shift, shutting the door on Wolfe and Costa with ruthless precision.

By lap 2, you had already opened a 1.7 second lead.

Smooth. Surgical. Untouchable. Behind you, Willow stumbled. Turn six..wide. Lap four..too much brake into the chicane.

“Willow, pull it together. Reset your rhythm. Don’t chase, stabilize.”

“Copy. Sorry.”

Lap six, Willow found it again. She overtook Costa in a brave, inside line maneuver that nearly kissed the gravel. You heard the pit crew cheer. Natasha’s voice crackled with unexpected joy.

“That’s the fire. Keep it clean. Wolfe’s losing grip. You can take him in two.”

You grit your teeth. The car roared under you like a living thing, engine screaming at full tilt, tires gripping tarmac like claws on glass. You breathed slow. Measured. Intentional. Every part of you synced with the machine, the wheel, the brakes, the tiny flicks of balance that made or broke lap times.

You were leading. Clean start. Clean pace. Fastest lap by lap 11. Smooth as silk, precise as a scalpel. This race was yours.

In your rearview mirror, you saw Willow, P2 now, holding position. Not threatening, not faltering. Just…there. You didn’t think about her. You didn’t have time.

You thought about your line through turn 9, the slight understeer near the tunnel curve, the way your grip was softening on the softs with every corner carve. Your body was singing with focus. This was your world. And nothing, not the crowd, not the pit crew, not even Natasha’s voice, could shake it.

Until lap 34.

“Y/n. We’ve got a situation.”

“Talk to me.”

“Willow’s rear gearbox sensor is pinging. Possible instability. Data’s fluctuating. If Wolfe pushes DRS range and forces a brake duel, that casing could fail.”

You blinked through sweat. “Then pull her back.”

“No. We’re issuing a position swap. Now.”

Silence in your helmet. Your hands tightened on the wheel. What?

The wind outside felt louder. The engine scream thinned into white noise. “…No.”

“That’s not a request.”

“She won’t survive the lead! Not with a blown rear and Wolfe charging!”

Natasha was more cold this time,

“And she definitely won’t if she doesn’t have a wall behind her.”

“I am the wall, Natasha! Let me hold the front. Let me finish this.”

Another beat of silence. Then..

“Y/n. Position. Swap. Now. You protect her or she crashes out. Those are the only outcomes.”

Inside the garage, Natasha stood stiff at the pit wall, headset pressed tight, heart hammering harder than she’d admit. You hadn’t obeyed.

She stared at the live feed, your car just ahead, clean lines, perfect balance, but no sign of lifting. And Willow, driving beautifully, but unaware of just how fragile her car was, was still in second. Vulnerable.

Natasha knew what this was. This wasn’t disobedience. This was fear.

Not for Willow. For you. Letting someone pass when the win was in your hands? When every ounce of your soul knew you were better?

That wasn’t just sacrifice. That was surrender.

Your jaw was tight inside the helmet. Your heart hammered against your ribs, not from fear, but from fury. Your fingers ached on the wheel. Every instinct in you screamed to ignore the call.

This is your race. You built this team. You bled for this damn car.

But Natasha’s voice echoed in your mind, not just the words, but the way her tone had shifted. The ice. The command.

You didn’t want to listen. But Natasha wasn’t asking. She was telling.

You swore under your breath and eased off the throttle. Just enough, and Willow swept past you on the straight. The crowd screamed. The leaderboard updated.

P1: Willow Petrov

P2: You

And behind you, like a wolf in a storm, Wolfe loomed in P3. You gritted your teeth and dropped behind Willow, matching her pace, locking the line tight. If Wolfe tried anything now, he’d hit a wall of steel.

“Thank you.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Not without your voice cracking.

Final Laps

Willow held the front with everything she had. Her lines weren’t as perfect, her exits not as sharp, but they were enough. You buffered every corner, forced Wolfe wide, stole DRS range every time it threatened to open. You weren’t racing anymore. You were guarding.

Lap 39.

Lap 40.

The checkered flag waved. Willow crossed the line first. You followed, less than a second behind.

Back in the garage, Willow was pulled from the car by techs and PR and cameras. The first win of her Formula 1 career.

And you? You climbed out in silence. Helmet off. Sweat running down your neck. Eyes unreadable. You stood there beside the car, breathing hard, ignoring the cameras.

Across the garage, Natasha didn’t move. She just watched you. Not as a manager. Not even as a lover. But as a woman who had just asked someone she loved to let go of something sacred.

You walked past her. Didn’t stop. Didn’t look at her. Natasha reached for your hand, just a brush, but you pulled it away gently, and disappeared into the corridor.

Part 2

#natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov x reader #dom!natasha x reader #nat x reader #natasha smut #natasha romonova #the avengers #natasha #natasha romanov smut #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff smut

491 notes · View notes

prettygirl-gabi · 13 days ago

Text

Maddie Rooney🏀 is unavailable

Pairing: Paige Bueckers xFiancé!Reader

Fandom: WNBA-Dallas Wings

Summary: oh it was a surprise indeed

A/N: just wanna thank @thatonesuschix for being a pawn in my plan

🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @cowboybueckers , @unknowgirlypop , @yailtsv , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani , @elswhore , @italyyy , @lightsgore , @private-but-not-a-secret , @aubreygriffin , @issilovesherself , @graceeeeeesblog , @sayurireidotcom , @let-zizi-yap , @latenighttalkinqwp , @fairyblossomsav , @liloandstitchstan , @kaliblazin

I should’ve known Paige was up to something the second she left the house wearing that smug little smirk she gets when she knows she’s keeping secrets.

“You sure you don’t wanna come?” she asked, adjusting the collar of her oversized purple Nike x Supreme tracksuit in the mirror, roots perfectly hidden under her beanie.

I was standing in the kitchen, unpacking dishes from the last moving box while rocking a wrinkled tee and pajama shorts.

“Nah, I’m good. The couch and I are in a long-term relationship today.”

She chuckled and came over, kissed my forehead, and whispered, “Alright, just remember I’ve got a surprise for you tonight.”

I squinted. “Is it something I’ll love?”

She winked. “Hopefully. No promises though.”

Then she walked out in that baggy purple fit and all-white Air Forces like she wasn’t about to change my entire emotional state in less than four hours.

I spent the next couple hours organizing the bathroom cabinet, lighting candles, and scrubbing mystery spots off the kitchen counter.

Boring.

Domestic.

The kind of stuff that should’ve given me peace.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about what this surprise was.

Paige had been teasing it all week and I thought maybe she had a spa day planned, or got us Beyoncé tickets or something.

What I wasn’t expecting was to be betrayed in 4K.

I was sprawled across the couch with a blanket on my lap and a bowl of popcorn beside me when I casually opened Twitter to see NBA Draft updates. I typed Paige’s name into the search bar for fun—just to see if she’d made her appearance yet.

I wish I hadn’t.

The first photo that popped up stopped my whole heart.

There she was, at the Dallas Mavericks Draft Watch Party, posted up at the edge of the court in that same purple Nike x Supreme tracksuit. But the beanie she had one was long gone… and in its place?

A blunt healthy chop.

And fresh platinum blonde roots.

I nearly dropped my phone into the popcorn bowl.

“NOOOO,” I yelled, sitting up like I’d been electrocuted.

I clicked on the photo, zoomed in, and stared at her sleek, straight hair—the same head I’d been kissing just this morning, except now it looked like it belonged in a shampoo commercial.

“This is the surprise?” I muttered to myself. “Oh, she’s sick for this.”

I immediately swiped up and hit FaceTime.

No hesitation.

She had one chance to explain this before I spiraled.

It rang once.

Twice.

Three times.

Nothing.

I stared at the screen like it had betrayed me too.

She always picked up.

Even if she was in the middle of something, she’d at least text back a quick “can’t talk rn, will call after.” Or a “kiss my ass.” But now? Radio silence.

I tried again.

Same result.

“Okay,” I muttered, pressing my lips together. “That’s how we’re playing this.”

I went back to Twitter and kept scrolling.

Clip after clip, angle after angle—Paige talking to reporters, Paige laughing with fans, Paige crouched down and talking to some sweet little kid reporter in a Dallas jersey. Paige doing Paige things. That new hair shining like she just walked out of a Dyson Airwrap ad.

And me?

Completely out of the loop.

The longer I watched, the more I paced.

I wasn’t mad that she cut it—I mean, she looked incredible.

Of course she did.

Paige Bueckers could shave her head and still look like she walked off a runway.

But to not tell me?

To keep it secret and then hit a whole red carpet rollout for the public before letting me, her fiancé, see it?

I grabbed my phone again, thumb already holding the audio icon down before I could second guess it.

“So not only did you touch up your roots… you cut your hair, and didn’t think to tell me—your loving girlfriend of six years, fiancé of one, by the way? Come on, P… be so for real. And THEN. And…and Then..you let me find out through Twitter? Of all places? Ohhhh, fuck you, Paige Madison. Fuck. You. Ohhh you are so sleeping on the couch tonight.”

I sent it.

And for a solid ten minutes, the only response I got was her leaving me on read.

Which would’ve been fine.

If she didn’t then post a video of herself lip-syncing my audio message to her Instagram Story, standing center court like she was accepting a Grammy for “Best Betrayal.”

I kid you not.

A video of her in the green room, dramatically lip-syncing to my audio.

She even clutched her chest and gasped when I said her full name.

Fans were already losing it in the comments.

“They’re unhinged I love it.”

“This relationship is peak entertainment.”

“Y/N really said ✨drama✨.”

I threw my phone on the couch and flopped down with a groan.

She thought this was funny.

She thought me discovering her haircut via Twitter was content.

She was lucky I loved her.

I heard the door open and close softly. Paige walked in like she was trying to sneak in past curfew, even though she knew I was still awake.

I didn’t say a word at first.

She peeked into the bedroom, still in the same tracksuit, and smiled sheepishly. “Hey…”

I didn’t even look at her. “Hope Twitter treated you well tonight.”

She sighed. “You’re still mad?”

“You got a whole haircut and didn’t even text me.”

“It was supposed to be a surprise.”

“Yeah. And I found out through Twitter. That’s not a surprise, that’s a jump scare.”

She walked over slowly and sat on the edge of the bed, her freshly cut bob brushing just above her shoulders. The soft lighting made her look even more unfairly attractive. Rude.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” she said, voice quiet. “I just… wanted to feel fresh. The season’s been crazy. The move. The press. I needed something for me.”

“I would’ve supported that,” I murmured, softer now. “I just wish I’d been part of it.”

Paige reached for my hand. “You always are. Even when I’m bleaching my scalp in a stranger’s salon.”

I snorted. “You look hot. That’s the worst part.”

She grinned. “You think so?”

“Don’t act brand new. You’ve been trending since 7PM.”

She laughed, brushing her fingers up my arm. “So… what if I said I booked us massages tomorrow? And brunch. And maybe… just maybe… there’s a box in the closet with your name on it from Coach?”

I raised a brow. “Are you trying to buy my forgiveness?”

“Absolutely.”

I tried to glare, but the truth was, I’d already melted. Her new hair looked incredible, and she smelled like vanilla and champagne and expensive night outs. I caved.

“Alright. But next time you cut your hair, you better text me a ‘brace yourself’ warning.”

She nodded. “Deal. Can I sleep here tonight? Or is the couch calling me?”

I pulled back the covers. “Only if I get to run my hands through your freshly done hair.”

She laughed and slid in beside me, wrapping her arms around my waist.

As I tangled my fingers in her freshly-cut hair, she whispered, “You’re still gonna use that in arguments, aren’t you?”

I grinned. “Oh, definitely. I’m getting it framed.”

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!💚💙

-prettygirl-gabi✨️💗

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cheftsunoda · 2 months ago

Text

no im not in love — ln4

smau

lando norris x !best friend singer reader

yn and lando have been best friends for years— they have also spent those years doing things that ‘best friends’ don’t. morning cuddles, stealing kisses, sleeping together, getting jealous when the other is spotted with someone else. yn releases a song and fans pick it apart…noting it to be about lando. will this cause the two to finally admit that they love each other?

obviously based of the tate songgg

fc : madison beer and various pinterest girlies

⚠️not proofread! slight angst, gets a tiny bit steamy, blah blah⚠️

draft for yall while I proofread and fix part 4 of heal your heart

—

“swear im only sleeping at your house— six times in one week— cause its convenient.”

f1gossipgirls

248,275 likes.

f1gossipgirls : Singer YN LN leaving Lando Norris’ place six days in a row this week — coincidence or something more? The longtime best friends, who’ve known each other since their early teens, have fueled romance rumors for years. With this kind of consistency, fans are wondering if the ‘just friends’ label still applies…

—

username00 : lando! blink if your in love

username10 : she is always there…I don’t think this is out of the ordinary for them. she always pops up in his streams so we kind of know she is there

username5 : he was seen at a restaurant with magui last week too so idk

username7 : 6 days…in a row…this is more consistency than I have with my own employer

username17 : me pretending to be shocked while I’ve had a wedding pinterest board for them since 2019

username20 : the greatest situationship of our generation

username22 : that man is in love I will not elaborate

—

“are you coming over later?” lando asked over the phone and i chuckled to myself.

“i might as well move in at this point,” i said, and felt a smile creep onto my face.

“already made that offer and you said no,” he said, a teasing edge in his voice.

i rolled onto my back, staring up at the ceiling, my heart doing that annoying flutter thing it always did when he got like this — casual, but with just enough meaning to keep me spiraling.

“well…”i trailed off, biting my lip. “that was before you started bribing me with morning coffee and back rubs.”

“you forgot the part where i let you pick the movies and stick your cold feet on me,” he added, smug.

i laughed. “okay, true. honestly, i am starting to think you want me to move in.”

there was a pause — not awkward, just weighted — like he was thinking about how honest he wanted to be.

“i do,” he said simply. “i like having you here.”

that shut me up real quick. for a second, all I could hear was the sound of my own pulse in my ears.

“well,” I said, voice slightly higher than I intended, “guess I’ll start bringing more than just an overnight bag.”

he laughed, soft and warm. “good. ive already got a spot cleared out in the closet.”

—

“Only kinda dressing like you now— ‘cause your clothes they fit me — and that’s good reason.”

yn_ln added a post to her story!

seen by alexandrasaintmleux, lando, maxfewtrell & 2,376,299 others.

lando : looks so much better on you anyways

liked by yn_ln

alexandrasaintmleux : hmm…still at his place…in his hoodie?

liked by yn_ln

yn_ln : yes mum 🙄

liked by alexandrasaintmleux

alexandrasaintmleux: that’s funny…same thing I do with Charles WHO IS MY BOYFRIEND

liked by yn_ln

yn_ln : speaking of charles- tell him to stop being nosey

liked by alexandrasaintmleux

alexandrasaintmleux: WHAT HE SAY FUCK ME FOR - charles

—

i wasn’t planning to steal it.

but there it was, draped over the back of his couch — navy blue, soft-looking, and very obviously worn in. his favorite one. definitely the one I always “borrowed” and conveniently forgot to give back.

i glanced over my shoulder. lando was still in the kitchen, humming to himself and completely unaware of my criminal intentions.

i grabbed the hoodie and pulled it over my head. it smelled like him — some combination of expensive cologne, laundry detergent, and whatever shampoo he used that I secretly liked more than mine.

just as i was admiring myself in the mirror by the door, arms swallowed whole and sleeves dragging over my hands, i heard him behind me.

“oh, really?” he said, amused. “that’s your hoodie now?”

i turned slowly. “possession is nine-tenths of the law.”

he narrowed his eyes. “you are unbelievable.”

“and yet,” i said, tugging the sleeves over my fingers with a grin, “you still like me.”

he rolled his eyes but crossed the room and stood in front of me, eyes flicking down to the hoodie.

“i liked that one.”

i stood on my toes and kissed his cheek. “you still do. you are just sharing it now.”

he gave me the look — the one that meant he was annoyed, but also very clearly melting.

“you know you’re not getting away with this, right?”

i shrugged. “too late. ive already imprinted on it.”

—

“every friend of mine—I told them the same— no im not in love”

“so,” alexandra said, sipping her mimosa with an innocent smile, “how’s your new apartment been?”

I blinked. “My new what?”

Kika leaned forward, chin in hand. “lando’s. six nights this week, babe. we have a group chat. we have been counting.”

i nearly choked on my drink. “okay, first of all, you have way too much time on your hands. second, we are best friends.”

lily raised an eyebrow. “friends who do what, exactly? morning cuddles? sleep together? kiss each other? share clothes? share socks?”

i gaped at her. “that was one time—he had cold feet!”

kika smirked. “he has cold feet, and you’re in love.”

“i am not in love,” i said, louder than necessary, which of course made all three of them lean in.

alexandra tilted her head. “sure. you just smile at your phone every single time he texts you and you wear his clothes like you don’t have a whole closet of your own.”

i opened my mouth. closed it. opened it again. “its a nice hoodie!”

lily grinned. “and he’s a nice man. who makes you pancakes and lets you sleep in his bed.”

kika raised her glass. “to yn and lando— her completely platonic live in boyfriend.”

alexandra clinked hers with a laugh. “who she’s not in love with, of course.”

i groaned and dropped my face into my hands. “i hate all of you.”

“lies,” lily sang. “you love us. just like you love—”

“don’t say it.”

“—landoooo,” all three of them said in unison, full chaos energy.

i sighed. “you are impossible.”

kika winked. “so is pretending you’re not head over heels. just admit it, and we’ll buy you matching mugs.”

—

“And I don’t hate every girl your eyes go to.”

f1gossipgirls

284,265 likes.

f1gossipgirls : After weeks of swirling rumors, YN LN and Lando Norris have finally stepped out… just not with each other. Lando was spotted getting cozy with model Magui Corceiro, while YN was seen out with none other than Magui’s ex, footballer João Félix. Coincidence? Petty? The plot thickens.

username00 : be so for real right now. there is no way this isn’t intentional. YN OUR PETTY QUEEN.

username5 : yn really said fine you want her?? ill get with her ex

username7 : I need to achieve this level of petty bitch some day

username14 : i know alex and kika are somewhere screaming rn

liked by alexandrasaintmleux and kikagomes

username00: OH they r CREEPING

username22 : call me delulu but this could just be for pr

username15 : this is so iconic im screaming

—

yn_ln

liked by kikagomes, charles_leclerc, joaofelix79 & 4,285,257 others.

yn_ln : life lately

—

kikagomes : you are so hot come kiss me

liked by yn_ln

yn_ln : on my way!

charles_leclerc : Floki and Leo play date sometime soon? 😌

liked by yn_ln & joaofelix79

yn_ln : absolutely!

joaofelix79 : a mais linda😻

liked by yn_ln

username00 : damn she really said lando won’t commit?? hard launch

username7 : her and joao lowkey look so good together

username14 : no lando like…that is how you know he is pissed

username15: I went through 5 years of her posts and this is the only one with no Lando like

pierregasly : who is that beautiful woman you are playing chess with??

liked by yn_ln and kikagomes

yn_ln : my girlfriend :)

liked by kikagomes

pierregasly: should’ve known I’d get that response

—

“you didn’t have to post that photo,” lando said, not even looking up from his phone.

i glanced at him from across the room. “what photo?”

“the one with João. the one where he’s practically breathing on your neck.”

i rolled my eyes. “it is called posing, lando.”

“oh, so now it’s posing?” he scoffed. “looked cozy to me.”

i crossed my arms. “right…because you’d know all about looking cozy. how is magui, by the way?”

his head snapped up. “don’t bring her into this.”

i laughed, bitter. “oh, I’m sorry. was that hitting a little too close to home?”

“you are being ridiculous.”

“and you’re being possessive for someone who swears we’re just friends.”

that shut him up for a second. Then he said, quieter, “m’not possessive.”

“really?” i said, stepping toward him. “because you’re acting like I cheated on a boyfriend I don’t have.”

he stood up too, jaw tight. “maybe i wouldn’t care if you weren’t acting like you’re suddenly in love with João fucking Félix.”

i stared at him. “and maybe i wouldn’t care if you didn’t light up every time she laughs at your jokes.”

“you know what?” i muttered, grabbing my jacket. “this is dumb. you do whatever you want. do whoever you want.”

“already have been,” he snapped. “and so have you.”

i was halfway out the door when he called after me, voice softer but stubborn. “you’re the one who said we were just friends.”

i paused, turned slightly. “yeah. well. maybe that was a mistake.”

neither of us said what we really meant. the tension in the air said enough. touching.

—

“I’m not bothered looking up your exes — Matter fact we could probably be friendses.”

twitter!

f1gossipgirls : Oh? YN LN hanging out with Luisa Oliveira — Lando’s ex — in Monaco today? Did not have that on my bingo card.

username2 : guys calm down— her and luisa have stayed in touch since her and lando split. they are always interacting online

username5 : no bc if my ex and best friend were having a meeting about me id cry and never been seen again.

username7 : giving “we both survived the same man”

username10 : forget the drivers. the wags have taken over the season.

username8: yn pls drop a selfie with luisa with the caption “his taste is consistent” PLEASE

—

“we got the same taste that ain’t my fault”

it supposed to be a solo coffee run. no drama. no tension.

i pushed open the door to the little corner café, the bell chiming like it always did, and stepped inside—only to immediately bump into someone coming from the opposite direction.

“oh—sorry, I—” my voice caught.

lando.

he froze too, holding two takeaway cups, one already half-spilled from the impact.

“hi,” he said, blinking like he wasn’t sure i was real. “i—wow. hi.”

i swallowed hard. “hey.”

we both stood there, awkwardly, in the narrow doorway, neither moving. my heart thudded. this place — this stupid café — had been ours for so long that it felt wrong seeing him here and not being with him.

“i didn’t think you still came here,” he said, voice low. “not without me.”

“yeah,” I said quickly. “i didn’t. not really. just—craved it today.”

“guess we still have the same taste?” he said and looked down.

“and I just spilled one of yours. cool.”

i couldn’t help the small laugh that slipped out. “you always did have terrible coordination off-track.”

he gave me that sideways smirk i hated how much i missed. “says the girl who once tripped literally just over air…many times.”

“that was one time.”

“it was three.”

the silence after that wasn’t heavy like before. it felt like it always has.

“i miss this,” he said suddenly, glancing around the café, then at me. “i miss you.”

i looked at him then — really looked. the tired eyes. the nervous thumb tapping the side of the cup. the way he kept stealing glances like he was afraid i might disappear if he blinked.

“i miss you too,” i admitted.

he exhaled. like he’d been holding his breath for weeks.

“i was stupid,” he said. “about the fight. about João. about everything.”

i bit my lip. “i was too. i didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“i know,” he said. “i didn’t mean to lose you.”

A pause.

“so don’t,” i whispered.

he looked at me like the world tilted back into place. then held out one of the remaining coffees — the unspilled one. my usual.

“still how you like it?”

i nodded, smiling. “perfect.”

and for the first time in weeks, things felt right again — no explanations, no drama. just us. at our table. in our café. where it all began.

—

“if i slip and i somehow say it — you should know in advance, im wasted.”

the bass was shaking the floor. lights pulsed, the air smelled like overpriced tequila and victory, and someone — probably charles — had just climbed onto the DJ booth screaming “he finally won one!”

lando was glowing. sweaty, flushed, champagne-soaked, still in his tee with a medal crooked around his neck. everyone was celebrating like it was the first time F1 had ever seen a podium. maybe it felt like the first time. especially to me. he found me through the crowd, grinning, eyes already glassy with drunk adrenaline.

“there you are,” he said, stumbling slightly as he pulled me in with one arm. “did you see me? like actually see me?”

“hard to miss when you were standing on top of the world,” i yelled over the music.

he laughed, messy and wild, like it was pouring straight out of his chest. “could not have done it without you.”

“lando, i didn’t even—”

“you were there,” he said, serious now, crowd and noise fading behind us. “you are always there. i look for you first.”

i froze, heart stuttering. “you are drunk.”

“yup,” he said. “but not wrong.”

and before i could say anything, before i could stop him or stop myself, he leaned in and kissed me — champagne-flavored, heat-drunk and reckless.

it was a little too fast. a little too desperate. but, it felt right. like something we’d been circling for too long.

he pulled back first, eyes wide like he couldn’t believe it either. “was that—?”

“stupid,” i said quickly.

he nodded. “yeah. super stupid.”

then kissed him again.

—

lando and i barely made it into his hotel room before his hands were back on me, clinging to the zipper on the back of my dress. his lips sucking on my neck and i let out a light moan. he gently pushes me back onto the bed and crawls on top of me.

“ive wanted this for so long.” he admits before his lips brushed against mine.

“me too.” i stuttered as i felt his hands explore me.

before i knew it — we were both undressed and pressed against each other.

“you sure you’re okay with this?” he asked.

“please- lando. i want you.” i said and a smirk appeared on his face. i feel him inside of me and his lips are attached to mine again.

“i-i love you.” i muttered through my moans—not fully realizing what i said.

“i love you more. always have.” he whispered in my ear, driving me crazy.

—

my head was pounding and i could barely open my eyes but as i did i noticed lando beside me. this obviously was not rare but he was…naked. i gasped to myself and looked around the hotel room. our clothes mixed on the floor. i stared at myself in the mirror and noticed hickeys from my neck down to my mid chest. i sighed— trying to recall the events of last night.

last night.

the win. the club. the kiss. the aftermath.

his hands. my shirt on the floor. my heart in his hands.

the words — god, the words.

“i love you.”

i said it first. then he said it back. too fast, too real, too drunk.

but also… not drunk enough to lie.

i carefully untangled myself, trying not to wake him, and grabbed the nearest hoodie i could find — his, obviously — before tiptoeing into the bathroom. i was halfway through drinking water straight from the tap like a gremlin when i heard his voice, raspy and half-asleep behind me.

“you left the bed.”

i turned. “you were starfishing.”

he gave a lazy smile. “you didn’t run.”

“nope, still here. still processing.”

he nodded, rubbing his hands over his face. “same.”

“we said somethings.”

“yeah,” he said blinking at me. “we did.”

“im sorry- i don’t- know. i was drunk.”

“don’t apologize. i meant it, yn.” he said.

“so did i.” i said with a sigh of relief.

“i love you, yn.” he said and pulls me into the bed holding me.

“good because if you said you didn’t i was just gonna throw myself off the balcony from embarrassment.”

“so dramatic, even hungover.” he chuckled, kissing my head.

“consistent…and in love with my best friend apparently.”

“good to hear…I’ve been in love with you for ages.”

—

f1gossipgirls

523,377 likes.

f1gossipgirls : Lando Norris and YN LN caught getting rather steamy in the club after his most recent win.

—

username00 : the audacity to make no im not in love about him and then DO THIS

username2 : well this is one way to make up with your friend after a fight

username5 : me pretending I’m happy for them when really I’m pacing my room like a victorian widow

username7 : You KNOW Lily and Kika are already planning the wedding. Alexandra’s making the guest list. Soft launch era is over.

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, kikagomes, lilymhe

username8 : CAUGHT CREEPING AGAIN

username14 : I don’t care about the driving anymore— need a whole season of this

—

yn_ln

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, lando, carlossainz55 & 7,205,210 others.

yn_ln : okay I lied im in love with my best friend but stream no im not in love about your situationships!!!

—

username7 : girlie we been knew

alexandrasaintmleux: never tell me im wrong ever again— but im so happy for you bb!

liked by author

lilymhe : good thing I started planning the wedding like 3 years ago

liked by author

kikagomes : lost my wife 😭😭

liked by author

yn_ln : you still have me mamas

lando : ive loved you since i first laid eyes on you

liked by author

charles_leclerc : I catch a stray for being nosey when you literally LIED

liked by author

yn_ln : haha sorry charlie…😀

—

lando

liked by yn_ln, maxfewtrell, oscarpiastri & 2,373,289 others.

lando : she loves me so much she made a song to convince the world she didn’t 😎

—

oscarpiastri : good im tired of seeing you mope around the paddock

liked by yn_ln

lando : now you get to watch me smooch yn all the time

oscarpiastri : goodie

maxfewtrell : took you both long enough

liked by yn_ln and lando

carlossainz55 : im glad you both remembered the next morning bc I couldn’t break it to you if you didn’t

liked by yn_ln and lando

—

🐞💐🌺🦋☀️🌷🌞🌟💫🌻⚡️

958 notes · View notes

absdollievu · 1 month ago

Text

Come stay awhile

part 2

Warnings: strap on s3x (r!receiving) reader is in her late 20s, Abby is in her late 30s

this has been sitting in my drafts for so long so enjoy!

You didn’t talk about the kiss.

Not the next morning, not the next day, not the next week.

The silence between you and Abby didn’t come crashing in, it settled. Quiet and steady, like the fog that rolls in after a storm. Soft. Dangerous. It wrapped around your ankles every time you walked into the house.

The morning after, she barely looked at you. Her hair was tied back tight. Her sleeves rolled down. Her voice clipped and polite. She passed you the schedule for the day like nothing had happened, like her lips hadn’t been on yours just twelve hours before.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. You told yourself the kiss was a fluke, a moment in a dark room, two tired people and too much whiskey. But then you’d walk into the kitchen and catch her staring when she thought you weren’t looking. That unreadable expression in her eyes.

You didn’t ask. And she didn’t offer.

⸻

The days stretched out.

You kept working. You got her daughter ready for school. You did dishes. You read bedtime stories. You sat at the kitchen island and scrolled through your phone while Abby finished work calls, trying not to look like you were waiting for her to say something — anything.

And still, nothing.

She kept her distance. Her hands didn’t brush yours. Her smiles were rare. Some days she barely spoke to you beyond what was necessary. But it wasn’t coldness. It was restraint. Like she’d built a wall overnight and couldn’t afford to let it crack.

It would’ve been easier if she was cruel. But she wasn’t.

She was careful.

You, on the other hand, you were coming undone.

Every brush of her shoulder made your skin burn. Every time her eyes flicked to your mouth, then away, like she couldn’t help it, your breath hitched. You started dreaming about her. Woke up aching and ashamed and raw.

You told yourself to get over it. She was your boss. She had a kid. She had a whole life that didn’t include you.

But none of that stopped you from wanting her. More every day.

And then it broke.

It was raining again. A steady, unrelenting downpour that made the windows rattle.

Her daughter had gone to sleep hours ago, curled up with her stuffed dog and a nightlight glowing softly. You were on the living room couch, TV playing something forgettable. You were just about to say goodnight — head back to the guesthouse and pretend you weren’t heartbroken — when Abby walked in.

Hair down. Socks. Hoodie. No makeup.

She looked tired. Not the kind of tired that sleep could fix.

She said nothing at first. Just sat down at the opposite end of the couch. The silence settled between you again, heavy and familiar.

Minutes passed. The only sound was the low murmur of the rain, the soft hum of the TV.

Then, quietly

“I’ve been trying not to want you.”

You froze.

Your heart stuttered in your chest.

You turned toward her — slowly, like if you moved too fast, the moment might vanish.

Abby stared ahead at the screen. Her hands were clasped tight in her lap. Her voice was low, rough.

“I kissed you, and then I thought, fuck. I can’t do this. I have a kid. I have a job. You’re… you’re supposed to be off-limits.”

You swallowed hard. “I didn’t think it was a mistake.”

Her jaw tightened. “It wasn’t. That’s the problem.”

You shifted toward her, voice barely a whisper. “Then why are you acting like it didn’t happen?”

She looked at you then. Really looked. Something dark and aching behind her eyes.

“Because if I touch you again, I won’t be able to hold back.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to.

You leaned in slowly, your breath catching when her hand came up to cup the back of your neck — rough, warm fingers curling into your hair.

She kissed you.

Not soft this time.

Hungry. Desperate. Like she was making up for every second she’d held back.

Her hand slid to your waist, pulling you into her lap, until you were straddling her. Her lips moved with yours, breath catching as her hands explored — over your hips, under your shirt, fingertips skating over bare skin.

You whimpered against her mouth, and she cursed quietly.

“Fuck,” she whispered, breaking the kiss to breathe against your throat. “You have to be quiet.”

You nodded, chest heaving. “I can. I will.”

Her grip on you tightened. “No. I mean it. She’s upstairs.”

You met her eyes — dark, dilated, almost wild — and whispered, “I’ll be good.”

That broke something.

Abby stood with you in her arms, lifting you effortlessly off the couch.

You gasped, arms wrapping tight around her shoulders.

She carried you down the hallway like you weighed nothing, her footsteps light and careful on the hardwood floor.

You didn’t breathe until the bedroom door clicked shut behind you.

The room was dim, lit only by the stormlight through the windows.

Abby set you down on her bed, eyes dragging over you like she was memorizing every inch.

She peeled off your shirt slowly, reverently, and kissed down your chest, tongue flicking over your nipple as you arched under her.

“Stay quiet for me,” she whispered, voice thick with need.

You nodded, biting your lip hard to keep the sounds in.

She slid down your body, tugging off your pants, your underwear — everything. You lay there, bare and trembling, thighs already slick and shaking.

Then she reached into the drawer.

The harness was black.

She didn’t fumble. She didn’t hesitate. She strapped it on with practiced ease, her eyes locked on yours the whole time. She climbed back over you, kissing you deep as she ran the tip through your folds.

“So wet,” she murmured. “You’ve been like this for me all week?”

You moaned softly, nodding.

Abby kissed you again — slow and deep — as she pushed in. You gasped, eyes fluttering, your nails digging into her shoulders as she filled you. Slowly. So slowly.

She rolled her hips, drawing back and pushing in again, deeper this time. Her hand came up to your mouth, palm pressed over your lips as you moaned against her fingers.

“Shh.. be quiet, baby,” she whispered. “be good f’me.”

Your whole body clenched around her.

She rocked into you with steady, delicious pressure, every thrust hitting deep — perfectly angled, perfectly controlled. She was strong enough to pin you down, one hand holding your hip in place while the other covered your mouth.

You writhed beneath her, aching and soaked, the strap sliding in and out of you with slick, obscene sounds. Your legs trembled. Your stomach coiled tight.

Abby leaned in, teeth grazing your jaw. “You gonna come for me?”

You whimpered behind her hand, nodding, desperate.

“Then come.”

Her voice was low, commanding, and it shattered you.

Your orgasm hit fast and hard, stealing the breath from your lungs. You clenched around her, thighs quaking, heat flooding every nerve.

She didn’t stop. She slowed — kept rolling her hips, drawing it out, fucking you through every wave until your legs gave out and you collapsed beneath her.

⸻

After, she pulled you into her chest.

Sweat-slicked. Shaking. Silent.

Neither of you said anything.

Her arm curled protectively around your waist.

Her lips pressed once to the crown of your head.

The storm outside had quieted, but the air in the room still pulsed with what you couldn’t say.

You didn’t sleep for a long time.

Just listened to her heartbeat.

One breath away from something you didn’t know how to name yet.

But you knew — this wasn’t over.

This was only the beginning.

⸻

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arbitrarykiwi · 11 days ago

Note

Hyiaa, I just say I'm absolutely OBSESSEDDDD with your Thanos and Nam-gyu fics, seriously you're amazing and I CAN'T stop smiling at the screen whenever I read them like??? You're way of writing if fucking immaculate wtf?? Girl you better keep up with the good work🫶🏽

But now I'm wondering how the boys react during reader's menstrual cycle... OR EVEN BETTER... HEAR ME OUT

When she's OVULATING

BAM I said it

I AM SO FUCKING SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!!!??? totally didn’t get started then get lost in my drafts….and I also didn’t totally revamp it once I found it again. This is literally such a good ask. Also thank you for the kind words??? I LOVE KNOWIN I MAKE YEW SMILE WHEN YOU READ MY THINKS ON THANGYUUU <333

I went with a headcannon style for writing this one (I hope you don’t mind)

Warnings: 18+ , nsfw / sfw themes

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆

Okay so…admittedly at first they were both so ass with anything to do with periods or ovulation or anything to do with period products- completely oblivious

They both know what a period is, they just don’t particularly realize how much of an effect it has on someone who experiences a period until you’ve come along

Thanos 100% though a ‘heavy flow’ was a new way of saying a rapper had good bars in their raps

When you first told them you had cramps they straight up asked if if you overdid it with a workout or something

When you had to ask them to get you pads or tampons for the first time…fucking hell it was a challenge

They just need to be trained </3

The group chat you had with the three of them was blowing up nonstop. As much as you loved them, this only made your headache worse.

‘Why is there so fucking many’

‘I’ve lost Nam-Gyu. Do I call 911?!’

‘No don’t call 911, you’re in a small store you’ll find him’

‘I told you the brand I needed.’

‘Okay yeah, you told me the brand but you didn’t tell me that brand would have so many fucking products. Like I mean come on…there’s like 70 different options here.’

‘Found Nam-Gyu! :D What does “with wings” mean?’

‘I want the ones with the wings. Just get any brand at this point idc.’

‘Wings for my angel’

‘Wait are you mad now?! :( I swear I’m trying here can’t say the same for shit-for-brains’

‘You’re too pussy to say it out loud that’s why you text it :P’

‘Not mad ‘Gyu…just tired and hurting. Get ones with wings and the overnight kind.’

‘What size pussy you wear?’

Once they got back from that trip you explained to them why there was so many options and how you had a specific favorite brand and even more specific product from that brand

They then took pictures of all four sides of the pad or tampon box to save or for the next time they tried to find your items

After seeing how it affected you, the way you’re more lethargic and in pain, they begin to take your menstrual cycle more seriously than you do.

Nam-Gyu then has your cycle in his calendar and shares it with Thanos as well as you

The second that calendar reminder goes off, you’re getting texts from both of them to confirm if it came on that day

They also can’t seem to grasp that although your period sucks and it’s worse on some days and not others- it’s something you’ve been dealing with for a long while and you know how to cope with everything- you’re not dying.

You falter in your steps when a sharp pain hits? They’re asking if they need to take you to the hospital. You get up to change your pad or tampon a little sooner than normal? They’re both convinced you’re bleeding out

After learning about what you need and what your period is like, they’re both attentive in their own ways.

“Here you go, girlie.” Nam-Gyu says tapping your shoulder and passing a hot bowl of homemade Ramen over your shoulder from behind the couch.

Your eyes widen and you turn around, smiling at him with a wide but tired smile. This has been a particularly tough day, horrible cramps, heavy flow, headaches, the whole lot. “Ohhhh!! You’re the fucking best.” You say, taking the warm bowl from his hands.

“Mhm, I know~” he says, leaning over the back of the couch and bending down to kiss the crown of your head, he’s ruffling your hair before grabbing a bottle of water out of his apron pocket and placing it against your legs on the couch, “You better fuckin’ drink this, you can’t only drink soda- you’ll get dehydrated.”

Your attention is turned away from Nam-Gyu when the front door opens. “I’m back!!” Thanos calls out, wide grin becoming impossibly wider when he sees you sitting on the couch. “Ahhh!! My baby! Perfect, I come bearing gifts.”

Thanos walks towards you, dropping a couple plastic bags down on the couch and sifting through them, beginning to hand you things one by one. “Okay so I got you more of those pain meds you like…” he’s placing the bottle in your lap.

“Got you some chocolates…they unfortunately didn’t have your favorite so I got literally every other one they had in store so we can now decide on a second one to have as a backup for next time…” he’s lifting one of the plastic bags, now identified as being solely chocolate.

“And got you more pads like you requested, the exact ones you requested.” He always says that now after the first pad incident.

You smile wide and lean to reach him, “Thank you!!” You say holding your bowl of ramen steady, “gimme kiss, handsome!” Thanos leans in happily, connecting his lips with yours in a slow kiss.

“Take your meds.” Nam-Gyu calls from the kitchen. Thanos is pulling away, realizing the Ramen in your hand then quickly making his way into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around Nam-Gyu from behind and hooking his chin over the household cook’s shoulder.

“Ramen for dinner?”

“Mhm…she requested it.”

“I’ll take them in a bit!” You’re calling out over your shoulder to Nam-Gyu, too engrossed in the level of the video game you’re playing to pause to take the pain medication

“I will come over there and shove them down your throat, princess- don’t test me.”

“Ooooo, so hot when you scold her ‘Gyu.” Thanos coos, squeezing Nam-Gyu tighter.

Now when you’re ovulating?

Those two freaks just know

It’s something about how you hold yourself, how you walk, the little purr that takes over you voice- they just can tell

Almost like dogs, they can smell when you’re ovulating. It’s not that they can smell your arousal- they always say it’s your skin. It’s something uniquely you that almost makes their ears ring.

Pheromones. What they’re smelling is pheromones.

Being in a relationship with the both of them, being near each other almost all hours of almost every day, being intimate- they’re so in tune with you that they can pick up on the slight hints your body gives them.

Also…with living with the both of them…With those two fine ass men around ready to do whatever you ask?- you don’t have to do much to get whatever you need

Wanna watch them fuck each other just while you use your favorite little vibrator on yourself? Done!

Want to just spend hours sucking them both off because there’s just something about the weight of their cocks in your mouth that makes your mind go numb? Lol! Easy money!

It’s when you’re ovulating that they realized they might actually not be able to keep up with you in terms of sex- you’re making them fuck you over and over until both of them are twitching and damn near crying from overstimulation while you’re crying for another round

They end up developing a fucking system where they’re practically tagging each other in and out of the ‘ring’ like some wwe fighters or something (the ring being your pussy)

Also- they’re both so whipped they give you whatever you want when you want it

It’s 3am… and here you were, waking up randomly with a huge throbbing in your lower stomach and damp panties. You do try to get back to sleep, but you mind is flashing with images of the little session that put you to sleep to begin with.

Stuffed so full of both their cocks, begging them to cum inside you over and over until you were fucked stupid- yeah…you weren’t getting back to sleep anytime soon.

You wiggle a bit, loosening yourself out of the mess of limbs that was currently the cuddle pile. Nam-Gyu was to your right, facing you with his arms lightly draped over your stomach. Thanos was to your left, curled into you with one hand arched over your head on the pillows and tangled in Nam-Gyu’s hair.

You’re huffing, tossing and turning trying to ease yourself of the heat that is taking over your entire body. You need them.

Whining, you’re turning your head to press your forehead against Thanos’ and rub your nose against his, your hand tracing up his bare torso- he doesn’t wake up. He rouses, his face twitching into a blissed out smile and his cock begins to grow in his boxers- but he’s not away.

“C’monn.” You whine louder, but still nothing. You’re about to turn over and begin to try and wake Nam-Gyu but you can already feel his side of the bed shift.

Nam-Gyu’s arm removes itself from holding you as he flops down on his back, his eyes still closed- you almost think he’s asleep. You then see his hand fish out his hardening cock.

“C’mon, take what you need, girlie.” His voice is soft, laced with sleep, and creaky- it only makes you wetter. His hand is lazily pumping his cock, getting himself hard as you straddle his thighs.

You’re huffing and whining, removing his hand from his cock and replacing it with yours. The second you drag his fat cock head through your folds you’re nearly falling over on top of him. You’re still so fucking sensitive but you need it.

Sinking down onto him, you’re spearing your cunt open on his thick length, a wanton cry ripping from your throat.

Apparently all you needed to do was moan out all nice and pretty to wake up Thanos because now he’s up and beginning to make his way behind you.

“How rude…” he scoffs, his voice deep and rough. Thanos’ tattooed hands push your down forward on Nam-Gyu, hand staying on your lower back to push you into that deep arch he love sooo much, “Didn’t wanna invite me?”

Thanos is prodding his already hard cock at your stuffed pussy, “I-I tried! You didn’t wake up!” You whine, beginning to feel the wide stretch of having both their cocks deep inside you. You’re pressing your hips back eagerly, seeking more.

“Hmm didn’t try hard enough…must not want it that bad…” He’s drawing his hips back and pulling out, his cock dragging deliciously against Nam-Gyu’s who is now wide awake.

“No I do! I tried- I swear- you sleep so fucking hard. I wan’ both of you!” You’re pleading, trying to press your hips back but it’s not working with how they hold you.

“Don’t be so mean to her…” Nam-Gyu coos like he’s not the one holding your hips in place, “…she’s a needy thing and you’re just mad I woke up first.”

“Well now neither of you are going back to sleep anytime soon.” Thanos says, plunging his cock deep inside you, ripping a high pitched moan from both you and Nam-Gyu

All in all, the two boyfriends are better than one applies here because they both know exactly how to take care of you during those times!!

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆

Taglist: @namsgyu @nuttybeans @namgyucat @g1rlonthe3internet @reilapse @yuuumeee @thanosspills

((Lmk if you wanna be added to my main tag list <3))

357 notes · View notes

munsonsmixtapes · 2 months ago

Text

The Prophecy

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

After recommending a movie to you, Steve invited you you over to watch it with him and to his surprise, you agree.

This has been sitting in my drafts for a while and I have no idea why I never posted it.

Based on “The Prophecy” by Taylor Swift because that song is Steve.

Steve would be the first to admit that his sex life is nothing but vanilla. He’s always on top and always so sweet and gentle. But now he’s starting to wonder if that’s the problem. If that’s the reason why women don’t seem to want anything more than a one night stand.

He doesn’t get it. He used to be King Steve and now he can’t even get a call back? What the fuck is that about? He goes on a date almost every night and still somehow the only action he gets is with his hand.

The “you suck” side of Robin’s board is so full that she had to get another one and what started as a harmless joke has now made Steve start to think badly about himself. He used to have so much confidence and now it’s withering away bit by bit with each rejection.

He thinks all hope is lost until you walk in to Family Video. You’re all smiles as you ask him for a suggestion and he’s convinced it’s all a prank. It’s going too well if he’s being honest. You’re laughing at his jokes and genuinely seem interested in what he’s recommending. He’s now wondering if Robin put you up to this so he’d stop complaining to her about being single.

He decides it doesn’t matter and that he’s going to play along because you’re pretty and now he’s following you around the store like a lost puppy, holding a large stack of tapes that you’ve handed to him. Normally, he hates when people treat him like he’s their personal shopper but he’s going to let you do whatever you damn well please. You might as well tell him to jump because he’ll ask how high.

“Is this one any good?” You ask, holding up a tape to him and he audibly gasps. He didn’t think anyone hadn’t seen the movie so the fact that you haven’t is genuinely shocking to him.

“You’ve never seen the Princess Bride?” He’s acting like he just witnessed you commit a crime. Sure, you’ve heard of the movie and listened to people rave about it, but there’s something about it that turns you off.

“No,” you shake your head and Steve plucks the VHS from your hand and heads over to the counter with you following him.

“I can’t allow that. You’ve gotta watch it. It’s one of the best movies of all time. So, I’m renting it to you.”

“Well, maybe we can watch it together.” Are you…flirting? He hasn’t been flirted with in so long that he’s having a hard time telling whether it’s that or you’re just being friendly.

“Y-yeah. I’ve got whole movie theater in my basement. We can watch it there.” That’s become his make out spot when everyone found out about skull rock, but this time, he just wants to watch a movie with you.

“It’s a date,” you glance at his name tag to get his name. “Steve. Can I call you, Stevie?”

“You can call me anything you want.” He internally cringes at his words, but you seem so into it that he can’t possibly take them back.

“Well, I’m y/n, but you can call me anything you want.” The line completely goes over his head as all he can focus on is your name. He’s heard so much about you and now that he can put a face to a name, he finally understands.

You’re new to Hawkins and it’s clear that you’re the talk of the town as everyone seems to want a chance to either be you or under you. And he can see why. You’re sweet and very easy on the eyes. You’re probably the most stunning woman he’s ever seen and you’re flirting with him? He’s wondering if this is some sort of cruel prank.

You set your purse on the counter then pull out a notebook and pen from it before setting them both on the counter in front of him. “Here, write down your address and I’ll write down my number and you can call me whenever you’re available.”

He’s scribbling down his information so quickly that he’s afraid you can’t read it. But you read over the words without a word then scribble down your number before ripping off the piece and handing it to him. You then put your things back into your purse before pulling out some cash to pay for your rental.

“Oh, he’s always available. How does tonight sound?” Robin has inserted herself into the conversation and Steve really wishes she hadn’t. He can get a date all by himself thank you very much.

“Stop helping me,” he whispers to her and he really hopes you can’t hear him.

“Tonight is perfect,” you smile and Steve swears he’s already in love with you. “Call me when you get off?”

“Oh, he’ll be getting off, alright,” Robin says under her breath and Steve is quick to elbow her in the stomach.

“Seriously, stop,” he turns to her to give her a glare and you honestly just find their whole dynamic to be funny, like siblings. Steve slides the VHS across the counter to you along with your change and as soon as you’re gone, he’s going to let Robin have it.

They’re so engrossed in their conversation that they haven’t even noticed that you’ve left your purse. The bright pink thing is sitting there in front of them they’re not even aware, too caught up in their silly conversation.

“I’m helping you get laid and this is how you repay me?” She asks, leaning against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I don’t need your help,” he tells her as he heads over to the cart of returns to put them away and Robin follows.

“Clearly you do. Or else I wouldn’t have had to step in.”

“I was fine. I’ve still got it.” He honestly doesn’t know how he even got a date with you since he almost always flounders now. Maybe this will be the one that finally sticks.

“Good for you, dingus, you scored a date with the hottest woman in town. Maybe this time I’ll actually be able to put a tally in the “you rule” column.”

Robin knows that it’s a cruel joke to make when he’s so sensitive about the whole thing, but she can’t figure out why. Even thought hasn’t been and will never be attracted to him, she totally understands the appeal. He’s sweet and funny and much more intelligent than people give him credit for. She doesn’t know why he can’t seem to find someone to settle down with when that’s really all he wants.

She knows he’s not as happy as he lets on, that he’s much more lonely than he tells people he is. That he always goes out with his friends or is over at her house because his is far too big to be alone in.

That’s why he’s always got a girl in his bed so he won’t be going to sleep alone, but that’s how he always wakes up as they always leave him before he’s awake.

It’s not fair, she thinks. That everyone has seemed to have found his person but not him. He’s such a fucking catch so it just doesn’t make sense. She’s really hoping that maybe you’ll be the one.

“Fuck off,” he shoves her away with a laugh. He’s being a good sport about the whole thing, at least that’s what everyone thinks. No one knows that sometimes he’ll go home and have a good cry in the shower because of how alone he feels. And he feels so fucking pathetic for it, but it's the only way he knows how to cope.

The bell above the door jingles, signaling that a customer has entered the store. Steve and Robin turn to see Dustin carrying a stack of VHS tapes he's going to return. He's got a bright smile on his face as usual as he makes his way over to the counter where Steve meets him.

“Everyone’s coming over tonight to watch Star Wars if you guys wanna join,” Dustin says as Steve returns the movies to the system.

“I’ll be there, but Steve has a date,” Robin replies, patting Steve on the shoulder in a congratulatory manner.

“Right, with your hand, a sock, and a bottle of lotion, just like every night?” Dustin is wearing a knowing look and Robin is grimacing in disgust while Steve’s cheeks turn bright pink.

“No,” Steve glares. “With a girl. We’re going to watch the Princess Bride.”

“What’s her name?” He’s asking in a way that makes it seem like he doesn’t believe Steve, but he does. Dustin just likes to give him shit any chance he gets.

“Y/n.” Steve’s tone is smug and Dustin scoffs in response because now he really doesn’t believe him. There’s no fucking way that he scored a date with you of all people. Maybe back in his “King Steve” days, but definitely not now.

“Y/n as in y/n l/n? No way dude. She’s way out of your league.” Dustin is laughing now as if he’s just heard the most funny joke.

“Gee, thanks, Henderson.” Steve grabs the tapes now that he’s put them back in the system, then turns his back, heading for the break room because it’s time for his thirty. He doesn’t have time for this.

He can hear the two of them still yapping as he closes the door. He reaches for his punch card, punching that he’s on his break then grabs his lunchbox from the fridge before sitting down at the table with a sigh.

“She gave him her number and everything. And let me tell you, she’s even hotter than they say.” Robin had never seen you in person until tonight and she totally understands why everyone is head over heels for you.

“Don’t believe me?” She asks, eyeing the purse on the counter that you had apparently left.

“This could be anybody’s,” Dustin glares at her just as you enter the store again. All of the air is sucked out of his lungs as he’s come to the realization that you are in fact real.

“Totally forgot my purse,” you tell Robin with a little laugh as you grab the thing from the counter, slinging it over your shoulder. You then turn in Dustin’s direction, staring at him with your signature bright smile. “And who might you be?” You ask, and Dustin’s mouth goes bone dry as he looks up at you. You really are hotter than they say.

“D-“ he clears his throat before trying to introduce himself again. “Dustin.”

“Dustin,” you repeat and his name sounds so angelic coming from your mouth. “That’s cute. Well, it was nice to meet you Dustin and I'll see you, Rob,” you wave at her from over your shoulder like you’re old friends and yeah, she’s going to be thinking about that for a very long time.

You flee the store yet again and Dustin’s eyes are following you as Robin opens a magazine, staring down at the page to hide her blushing cheeks. He’s trying to figure out how he can become four years older while Robin is crossing her fingers that you’re also into girls.

They both know it’s pathetic, especially since you’re going out with Steve tonight, but they can’t help it. There’s just something about you that draws people to you, like they’re all sailors being lured to their deaths and damn if that isn’t a good way to go.

It’s the way you carry yourself, as if you don’t have a care in the world. And you don’t. You just go around with all of that confidence and maybe that’s why everyone either envies or wants you. You never pay attention to that, though.

None of them truly know you and they don’t care to either. You’re just something pretty to look at, someone who will look good on their arm, but the second they get you into bed or even hang out with you with everyone watching, they’ll leave you in the drop of a hat. Because really, all they want is for you to make them look good.

But Steve? He actually treated you like a person. He wasn’t falling all over you, just genuinely trying to help you find a movie. You’re not usually one to randomly ask someone out, in fact, the whole thing made you super nervous. But he was so eager to agree and that made you feel like your usual self again.

You've heard a lot about Steve. You know his reputation and how he's very popular with the ladies, so you're surprised that he's available on a Saturday night. You figured that someone else would have already snatched him up and put a ring on it. You're both about that age now so it's honestly surprising that he's single. How has no woman in Hawkins come to their senses and married this man? You suppose you should be grateful since you're the lucky woman he's invited over tonight.

Steve exits the break room as soon as his break is over still thinking about you and how he still can't believe how you actually asked him out. The prettiest girl in Hawkins. Maybe he really does still have game.

He makes his way over to Robin feeling more confident than he has a long time. She's scribbling something down in a notebook and he lets out a deep sigh. He was really hoping that she would have gotten bored of that stupid game by now. But apparently not.

As always, his love life has just become a joke to everyone. Because it's just so funny that poor Stevie can't get a date. He'll die alone while everyone else will end up with someone. That's just his fate, he thinks.

The rest of the night goes by so slowly. It's almost painful for Steve to look at the clock, watching the minutes tick by at a glacial pace. He has never been so eager to go home, actually wanting to be there for the first time in a long time.

He's so close to asking Robin to close up for him because he just realized he doesn't have anything to eat or drink besides shitty beer and a pizza that's been in his freezer since he was a kid. But he decides that he'll just hurry to the store on his way home because he's already had her close for him more times than he can count.

"Would it offend you if I picked out your outfit for tonight? Because no offense, Steve, but this,” Robin refers to his outfit. "Is just not going to cut it.”

“Gee, thanks, Rob.” He's already nervous enough and doesn't need Robin making him second guess what he's going to wear even though he was already going to anyway.

“I'm just saying, would it kill you to switch it up every once in a while?”

“Are you of all people seriously trying to give me fashion advice right now?”

“What's that supposed to mean?” She crosses her arms over her chest as she leans against the counter, fixing Steve with a glare. He doesn't actually mean it, he just suddenly feels a lot of pressure about tonight and he's taking it out on her.

"Nothing, I'm just nervous, alright?" He runs a hand through his hair and just by the look on his face, she can see that he's telling the truth.

"Thought you didn't get nervous." She's smiling smugly now and Steve really doesn't appreciate it.

He ignores her and rounds the counter, making his way over to the door, turning the sign to signify that the store is now closed. He's now counting the minutes until he's able to go home, actively watching the hands on his watch tick, tick, tick by.

"I haven't done this in a while, alright?" He asks as he locks the door. "I'm a little rusty."

"A little?” She scoffs and Steve rolls his eyes.

“Alright a lot.”

“You need to relax. It’s just a date.” But it’s not, not to Steve. He thinks this could actually be something and he hopes he doesn’t blow it this time.

“So are you getting out of here or what?”

“What?” The question genuinely catches him off guard. He didn’t think she’d actually want to close for him since she’s done it so many times in the past.

“I can hold down the fort. Go get the girl, Steve.” He smiles widely, before pressing a kiss to Robin's cheek before hurrying out the door to his car. For once, he actually thinks he has a chance and he’s totally going to take it.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x y/n

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