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[wildwestdean]

impetus

summary: dean gets targeted by a witch while working a case, and she curses him to yearn for what he secretly loves the most. it seems to have no effect, until it's pointed out that he can't seem to stay away from you - but what happens when he tries to fight it?

pairing: dean winchester x female reader

word count: 9.4k+

warnings: violence, hunting/working a case, mentions of murders, gore, evil witches, reader and dean get attacked, swearing, alcohol consumption, angst, fluff, yearning, mutual pining, idiots oblivious to their own feelings, magical curses, hallucinations, nightmares, depictions of death, depictions of drowning, fighting/arguments, heart-to-heart, confessions, use of [y/n], nicknames, mature themes

“Right, well, this isn’t creepy at all,” Dean declared, rolling Baby to a stop before switching into park. 

You both sat quietly as you surveyed the desolate building, a feeling of unease washing over you. 

“Maybe we should wait for Sam,” you suggested half heartedly. He was only down at the Sheriff’s station, and it wouldn’t even take ten minutes for him to meet you here, but you knew Dean wouldn’t wait. 

“No,” he said, confirming what you already knew. “Someone else is missing and this is our best lead so far. If you don’t want to go in, that's fine, but I am.” 

“I’m not letting you go in there alone,” you snapped, sitting up as tall as you could despite the pit forming in your stomach. 

“Awe, you worried about me, sweetheart?” Dean teased, turning to look at you with a grin; one that was effectively wiped from his face when he saw the look in your eyes. “Hey, what is it?” 

“I don’t know,” you said honestly, shrugging lightly. “I just have a bad feeling about this.” 

“Bad feeling like what?” he questioned, his brows knitting together. 

You thought about it, trying to pinpoint what it was you felt, but you couldn’t. “Just…. don’t go wandering off,” you ended up saying- begging, more like. 

“Alright,” he agreed easily. “We stick together, and we’ll be in and out before you know it.” 

“Right,” you confirmed with a nod. “Let’s gear up.” 

You exited the car as quietly as you could, making your way around to the back as Dean unlocked the trunk and propped up the panel to the arsenal.

“You and Sam better be right about this,” he muttered, digging out the box of witch-killing bullets. 

Your mind raced through the details of the case: An exsanguinated priest, a dead nun with her tongue ripped out, the president of the high schools abstinence club found without a heart, and various livestock missing various body parts - if this wasn’t a witch, you were a little scared to find out what else it could be. 

“We have to be,” you breathed out, loading your ammo. 

“Can you do me a favour and sound at least a little confident?” he asked playfully, lightly nudging your arm with his own before tucking his gun into his jeans. 

“Sorry,” you said sheepishly, holstering your own gun. 

“It’s alright,” he said earnestly, handing you your favourite knife (one that used to be his before you claimed it as your own). “I’m just not used to seeing you so spooked.” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle quietly as you took the knife from him. “I’m not used to feeling spooked.” 

“We’ll make it through,” he consoled, closing up the trunk. “Just like we always do.” 

“Just like we always do,” you echoed with a nod, following him towards the building. 

The overgrowth brushed your calves as you made your way up the walk, and after a quick survey of the facade, Dean swung the door open after picking the lock. 

“Wait!” you hissed, stopping him before he entered. “Sam does know we’re here, right?” 

You watched as his shoulders shrugged before stepping inside. “Probably.” 

“That’s… comforting,” you sighed, following him across the threshold. 

The two of you did a quick preliminary sweep of the main level before making your way to the top floor, finding nothing of significance in any of the rooms. Making your way back down, you both stopped dead in your tracks as you heard a clatter come from beneath you. 

“Of course there’s a basement,” Dean whispered. “Why wouldn’t the creepy ass witch be in the creepy ass basement of this creepy ass house?” 

“How do you know she’s a creepy ass witch?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at him. “Maybe she’s hot. Or a guy. Or both.” 

He faltered over his response, considering your words for a moment. “I’ll bet whatever tab you drink up at the bar once we end up ganking this bitch. She’s creepy.” 

“Deal,” you grinned, wiggling your eyebrows at him. 

You both chuckled, before another noise from the basement drew your attention back to the case at hand. Dean awkwardly cleared his throat before leading the way in search of the basement entrance, using the occasional noise as guidance. 

“God, I hate witches,” he muttered to himself, slapping away cobwebs as he descended the stairs. 

“I don’t think the witch put those webs there,” you said with a snicker. 

“No, they’re just the one turning this rotting corpse of a house into a lair of evil and despair,” he hissed. 

You rolled your eyes in response, unable to stop the fond smile from creeping onto your face as you made it to the bottom of the stairs. 

A muffled cry caught your attention, and Dean spared you a quick look before running in the direction it came from, you hot on his heels. Coming up on a corner, he slowed to a halt and peered around the wall. 

“It looks clear,” he decided after a moment. “Just be careful,” he added, continuing on his way. 

Upon turning the corner, you were enveloped in the warm glow of candles, which would have been nice, had it not been for the rest of the scene. An altar lay at the far wall, burning candelabras stood in each corner of the room, and the very person you were searching for was bound and gagged in a chair in the middle of the room, surrounded by a circle of candles. 

Dean cursed and muttered under his breath, surveying the room. “I’ll get him, you get the altar.“

“Okay,” you agreed, running across the room. Once you reached the altar, you couldn’t help but stare in shock and disgust for a moment as you took in the sight; all the missing body parts seemingly staring back at you from where they lay soaked in blood. It took Dean shouting your name from across the room to bring you back to your senses, and you quickly upturned the altar as Dean instructed the now freed man to get out as fast as possible and wait by the car. As soon as the contents of the altar were scattered, an ear piercing shriek came from behind you. 

Quickly whirling on your heels, you were greeted by a cloaked figure, who seemingly came out of nowhere. 

“What have you done?” she screamed, dropping her hood as she stared daggers into you. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you feigned innocence. “Did I ruin your big plan?”

“You ruined everything!” she shrieked, slowly approaching you. “You’ll pay for this!” 

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Dean called out from behind her. 

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this?! How many centuries passed by until the circumstances were right? I had it! I had it all! I was one spell away from seeing my love again!” she continued to scream, advancing further towards you as she ignored Dean.

“Back off, Grunhilda!” Dean roared from behind her, drawing his gun. 

“No!” she shrieked, barely lifting her hand in order to easily swing his gun away - and stop you from drawing your own. “You stupid little gnat. You think you can just come in here and mess with things you don’t understand? You think you can take this from me?!” 

Her shouting was drowned out by the sound of your own heart pounding in your ears, your entire body feeling like it was on fire as your throat constricted, the air leaving your lungs and not returning. You felt your bones cracking beneath your skin as your feet left the floor, and you shared a look of terror with Dean before black began to cloud the edges of your vision. 

Without an effective weapon handy, Dean rushed the witch and tackled her to the floor, sending you crashing down. You met the concrete with a thud, and it knocked the rest of your senses out of you. You laid there for who knows how long, fighting off the waves of pain and nausea, willing yourself to move as you listened to the struggle happening a few feet away from you. 

By the time you managed to prop yourself up, Dean was pinned down as she advanced on him, and you desperately looked around for either of your guns. 

“Do you have any idea what it’s like?” you heard her ask, menace laced deep in her words. “To want something so desperately, to feel that desire within your very soul?!” 

Dean struggled against her hold as you struggled to pick yourself up, to at least crawl to a weapon if you had to.

“Well you will,” she sneered, cackling to herself. “You’ll know how it feels. To have what you want the very most to be so close to you, to have it at the edge of your fingertips, only to never be able to grasp it! For it to be the only thing you can think about!”

“Shut the hell up,” Dean seethed through clenched teeth, glaring at her. 

She only stepped closer towards him, cackling to herself. “Your strongest yearning, hidden deep in your heart, will nevermore be yours to part. Be it with sun or with rain, that which brings joy won’t be without pain.” 

“You finished yet?” Dean interrupted, before he had the wind knocked out of him, rendering him silent. 

Moving as quickly as you could without being noticed, you closed in on Dean’s pistol while the witch carried on. 

“Whatever you crave you cannot say, yet you’ll seek it out be it night or day,” she continued, hovering over him. “Consider yourself lucky, you useless toad. I’ve had countless lifetimes yearning to see my love again, and I’ll spend lifetimes more. At least you only have this one measly little life to yearn for what you want.” 

Grasping the gun in your hands, you carefully rose to your feet and steadied yourself to take aim. “Man, you really do talk too much,” you huffed out.

The shot rang out just as she turned towards you, though it was silenced by a roaring wind that accompanied a bright blue light. Within seconds, everything was calm and quiet again.

Fighting every urge you had to collapse back onto the floor, you trudged your way over to Dean in an attempt to help him up. 

“God, I told you she’d be creepy,” he gasped out, groaning as he stood. 

“You want a prize?” you asked incredulously, staring up at him. 

“I wanna get the hell out of here,” he said, ushering you to take leave. “Then I want those drinks you owe me.” 

After what felt like another entire day, you and Dean had dropped the victim off at the hospital, patched each other up, cleaned out the basement, showered, and filled Sam in on everything that went down. 

“So… she cursed you?” Sam asked curiously, trying to understand. 

“I dunno. She tried to, I guess,” Dean replied nonchalantly. “But [Y/N/N] put a bullet in her. No witch, no curse, right?” 

Sam shared a brief look with you, before turning back to Dean. “Yeah, but… there was no body.” 

“What?” Dean asked gruffly. 

“The witch,” you said. “I shot, but she vanished. What if she isn’t dead?” 

“Well, I feel normal, so I’m gonna say she’s dead,” Dean declared with a shrug. “Now, can we head to the bar? I’m in desperate need of a drink… or twelve.” 

Without waiting for an answer, he quickly stood and donned his jacket before looking back at you and Sam. “You guys coming or what?” 

“Oh, do I have a choice to not go?” you asked playfully.

“You can stay if you want, but your wallet comes with me,” he replied, smiling innocently. 

“Alright, let’s go,” you said with a dramatic sigh, grabbing your own jacket. 

Not long after, the three of you were sliding into a booth in the nearest dive, enjoying the lack of people; you guys seriously needed to decompress. 

“Alright, I’ll be back,” you declared, hopping out of the booth to get the first round of drinks. 

“Make sure you get a tab started!” Dean jokingly called after you. 

You flipped him off in response, taking a seat at the bar after placing your order. While you waited, Sam watched as Dean grew more restless in his seat. 

“Dude, what the hell is your problem?” he finally asked, eyeing Dean as he fidgeted anxiously. 

“What?” Dean asked cluelessly, glancing around the bar. “I’m thirsty. She’s been gone for what, like, half an hour?” 

“It’s… barely been two minutes, Dean,” Sam informed him with an amused grin.  

“Yeah, well. I want my beer,” Dean mumbled, tapping his fingers on the table as he glanced around once more. “I’m gonna go see if she needs help.”

Before Sam could even reply, Dean was already halfway across the bar, meeting you just as you got your final drink. 

“Need a hand?” Dean asked cheerfully, his sudden appearance making you jump. “Sorry,” he added with a snicker. 

“Dick,” you muttered with a laugh, hopping down from the stool. “Here you go,” you added, handing him his beer.

“Awesome,” he beamed, taking the bottle from your outstretched hand. 

He followed closely as you made your way back to the table, handing Sam his drink before sliding into the booth; Dean followed suit, leaving you nestled in between him and the wall. 

The three of you had a few more rounds before Dean slipped away, determined to teach a lesson to the arrogant ass harassing players around the pool tables - just because you didn’t need to hustle people anymore didn’t mean it wasn’t still fun every now and then. You watched him fondly, laughing quietly to yourself as you watched him fumble around with his cue before making a terrible break. Harder than it looks, you could just hear him say. 

Your attention was turned back to Sam when he cleared his throat, and you were met with his questioning gaze. “Does he seem weird to you?” 

“Weird how?” you asked, face scrunched in confusion. 

“I don’t know, strange,” he replied with a small shrug. “Like- like antsy or something.” 

Your eyes flit back across the room to Dean, who was very much in his element as he upped his ante, before focusing on Sam again. “I haven’t noticed anything, Sammy.” 

He sighed in resignation, seeming to already know that would be your response. “It’s probably nothing, just forget I said anything,” he replied, shaking his head dismissively before finishing his drink. 

“If you say so,” you muttered quietly, sipping your drink as you cast a worried gaze across the bar, getting lost in thought.

By the time you each finished another round of drinks, Dean made his way back over to the table; much to the surprise of you and Sam. 

“Done so soon?” Sam questioned, raising an eyebrow at his brother. 

“Yeah,” Dean shrugged, sliding back into the seat beside you.

“But you only played one round,” you said quizzically. 

“So?” Dean wondered, gulping down the rest of his beer. 

“So, you usually play a lot more than that,” Sam pitched in, shifting his gaze between you and Dean. 

Dean sighed, his bottle clanging on the table as he set it back down. “Why am I getting the third degree here? I played a game, he learned his lesson, I got over it. End of story.”

“Okay, grouchy,” you snickered, ruffling his hair a little just because you knew he hated it. Except he really did love it when it was you doing it.

“Whatever, anyone want another round?” he asked with a huff, lightly swatting your hand away. 

“No, I’m gonna call it a night,” you admitted, shifting to slip your jacket back on. 

“Yeah, me too,” Sam declared, starting to stand from the table. 

Dean stood as well, assumingly just to let you out. “Alright, let’s go.”

You and Sam both stilled in your movements at his response, sharing a shocked look with each other. “You’re… coming with us?” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” he asked with a scoff, shrugging his jacket on as he looked questioningly between you and Sam. “Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you guys?”

“We just didn’t expect you to call it a night so early,” Sam explained helplessly. “Gettin’ old, huh?” he added, trying to lighten the mood a little. 

“Yeah, I mean, you barely even wracked up a tab!” you declared with a laugh, before grinning mischievously. “Drinks just don’t agree with you anymore, do they, old man?”

Dean scoffed and rolled his eyes, fixing his collar just to busy his hands. “Okay, alright, one more wisecrack and I’m leaving you both here.” 

Despite the finality in his tone, the amusement dancing in his eyes gave him away - as did the hand he extended to you to help you slide from the booth. 

“Whatever you say, grandpa,” Sam teased, patting Dean on the shoulder before walking away with laughter in his wake. “I’ll be outside!”

You chuckled in response, and the stern look Dean gave you only made you laugh even more. “Yeah, yeah. Hurry it up, chuckles,” he chided, wiggling his fingers at you. He surveyed the bar as you finally took hold of his hand, sliding out from your seat with ease and standing before him. “Ready?” he asked, gaze turning back to look down at you. 

“Yeah, I just gotta go pay,” you replied, nodding your head in the direction of the bar counter. 

“Alright,” he said with a nod. He gave your hand a squeeze, though instead of letting go like he normally would, he held it firmly as he led the way across the bar. 

You followed along quietly, trying your hardest to not read too much into it. Though when you stood before the bar and he had yet to release your hand, you gave him a puzzled look. “Did you wanna go get the car?” you asked hesitantly. 

He looked confused for a moment, as if he wasn’t entirely sure what was going on either, before he cleared his throat with a curt nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll meet you out there. Don’t take too long,” he rushed, giving your hand another fleeting squeeze before shuffling away. 

Strange, you thought briefly, before shifting your attention to the bartender before you. 

As you paid the tab, Dean settled into the driver's seat of Baby, and Sam watched him impatiently drum his fingers against the wheel as he hummed along to whatever song was in his head; and he couldn’t help but snort a laugh as Dean checked his watch one, two, three times since getting into the car. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Sam chided with a laugh, shaking his head. 

“What?” Dean inquired, annoyance clear in his voice. 

“Dude, please tell me you see what’s going on,” Sam pleaded. 

Dean widened his eyes in confusion, glancing around the near empty parking lot before looking back at his brother. “What’s going on?” 

Before Sam could reply, their attention was caught by the opening of the bar’s door when you emerged from the building, a grin forming on your face as you caught sight of them waiting in the car. 

Dean matched your grin, quickly reaching for the door handle and scrambling outside. “There she is!” he greeted happily, opening the back door for you. 

“Fucking idiot,” Sam muttered to himself, staring out the window with an amused grin as you and Dean settled into your seats. 

The three of you made it back in no time, and, having to settle for a single bed when first getting to town over driving for another who-knows-how-long just to find another motel, shuffled out of the car and into your shared room with heavy feet.

“Finally,” Dean muttered with relief, shutting the door behind him as Sam took a seat. “Whoa, whoa,” Dean barked, holding up a hand. “What’re you doing?” 

Sam froze just as he sat on the bed, staring up at his brother. “What?” 

“That’s my bed,” Dean declared with a huff. 

“No, it’s not,” Sam answered with a scoff. “It’s your turn for the couch.” 

“Dude, I’m not sleeping on the pull-out!” Dean declared with finality.

“What, are you kidding me?” Sam asked incredulously. “You got the bed last time!” 

“Yeah, and I just got ragdolled by a crazy ass witch, I deserve a mattress!” Dean argued, stepping towards the bed. “Get up.” 

“No,” Sam argued stubbornly, relaxing further atop the sheets. 

“You guys are ridiculous,” you said with an exasperated sigh, walking across the room. “I’ll take the couch.” 

“Not a chance,” Dean denied, not even sparing you a glance. 

“What, why?” you asked in confusion. 

“First of all, I’m not sharing with Sam,” Dean replied, turning to look at you. “Second, you got it worse than I did. I’m not shoving you on a pull-out.” 

“Oh, please-” you started to argue, before he cut you off. 

“I patched you up myself, [Y/N]. Don’t bother trying to lie to me,” he cautioned. 

You opened your mouth to argue once more, but the look on his face stopped you short. “Whatever,” you mumbled, turning towards the bathroom. “I’m getting ready for bed. Figure this out before I get back so I can actually go to bed, please.” 

The bickering resumed as you quickly retreated, shutting the bathroom door on Dean’s disgruntled declaration of “best two out of three.”

By the time you re-entered the room, you were met with silence. Surveying the surroundings, you found Sam digging through his toiletries bag while sitting in his original spot on the bed. Your gaze snapped over to the couch, where Dean sat looking like a kicked puppy. 

“You went with scissors again, didn’t you?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at him. 

He met your gaze as Sam snickered behind you, causing his face to sour even more. “Shut up,” he mumbled before standing, bristling past you with slumped shoulders. 

You chuckled quietly to yourself and grabbed the spare sheets, quickly making up the pull-out for Dean while he got ready; hopefully he’d be a little less cranky about it all if this was at least already done. 

Once finished, you made your way over to the bed and curled up under the covers. After saying a quick goodnight to Sam, you were asleep before Dean even left the bathroom. 

Fear gnawed at Dean, his body frozen in place as a cold spread through him, panic clinging to him like ice. He tried to call out to you, but all that left him was a strangled breath as his lungs seized up. He watched as the waves carried you away, further and further from where he stood. By the time his legs finally moved to carry him closer to shore, his feet were so heavy it was as though he was wading through quicksand. 

“No, no, no,” he pleaded quietly, watching as the waters edge never grew near no matter how far he ran. 

Your voice cried out to him, surging him forward even faster as you drifted ever outwards, terror seeping deeper into his bones with every futile step he took.

He couldn’t reach you. 

He couldn’t save you. 

The realisation that you were gone caused his world to come crashing down around him as he fell to his knees. A roaring filled his ears, and he didn’t know whether it was the irascible water that held you captive or the blood racing from his pounding heart. 

As he stayed there - watching the crashing waves for any sign of you, listening for a call of his name, unwilling to move for fear he’d miss you - the water suddenly crept up around him, as if to mock him. 

The sky darkened as he let out an anguished cry, his voice blending in with the storm beginning to brew around him. Yet despite the deafening howls, he heard it clear as day: your voice, calling out to him.  

“Dean.”

The world stilled around him once more, your voice ringing out in a whisper as gentle as the wind. 

“Dean.” 

He stood, frantically searching the horizon for you. He tried to call out, yet his voice still never came. 

“Dean!” you called out, voice booming like thunder from above. 

A small hand gripped his own, pulling him so forcefully he was yanked off his feet. He let out a startled cry, a spark of lightning igniting so brightly before him that he screwed his eyes shut. 

“God dammit, Dean!” 

Another force shook him, and when we reopened his eyes, he was met with the suspiciously stained ceiling of the motel room. He bolted upright, heart hammering against his chest as he looked around. He caught your worried gaze as he wiped the sweat from his brow, trying to steady his breathing as you leaned in closer. 

“[Y/N?]” he gasped out, pushing himself further upright.

His hand reached out automatically, fingers tentatively brushing against your cheek as if to evaluate your solidity. When he was satisfied that you wouldn’t evaporate, he surged forward to wrap you in a desperate embrace; the icy grip of terror finally starting to melt. 

“It was just a nightmare, De,” you soothed quietly, tracing a hand along his back. “Everything’s alright.”

“Yeah,” he said tightly, swallowing the lump forming in his throat as he let you go. “Yeah, it’s fine. I’m alright, get back to bed.” 

“You’re okay?” you questioned, concern laced in both your face and tone of voice. 

“I’m okay,” he affirmed with a nod, casting his gaze aside so you wouldn’t see the panic still swirling within him. 

“Okay,” you said softly, placing a gentle kiss upon the crown of his head before standing from the edge of the pull-out. 

Dean got up after you to grab a glass of water, his heart jumping in his chest as he remembered the sight of you being ripped away by the current. 

“Just a nightmare,” he reminded himself under his breath. “Just a nightmare.” 

Not having slept another wink after his nightmare, Dean was unsurprisingly the first one up the next morning. Taking it upon himself to get breakfast for the three of you, he found himself at the nearest diner waiting for his order. 

Drumming his fingers impatiently on the sticky linoleum counter, a burning desire to call you began to build within him. Knowing you were likely still sleeping, he decided to busy himself with a stupid game you downloaded on his phone. 

Yet the urge to reach out to you grew tenfold as he sat there, a sinking feeling that it might mean you were in danger starting to take hold of him. Just as his mind began to swirl with questions of what the hell was going on with him, he heard your voice calling his name. 

His head snapped up, expecting to see you sliding onto the stool beside him, ready to give you hell for walking here in search of him all by yourself in a random town. He figured you must’ve known he was here, and it wouldn’t have been a far walk from the motel, but it was still stupid.

Though the words died on his tongue as he realized you weren’t there, and that familiar feeling of dread trickled through him after scanning the diner and not finding you anywhere. 

Another voice called out, this time the waitress, announcing that his order was ready. He met her smiling face with nothing but confusion, her smile faltering for a moment.

“Everything alright?” she asked hesitantly.

“Huh?” he asked, before snapping out of his daze. “Oh, yeah. Just a little too early for me. Thanks-” he paused, squinting to read her name tag. “Thanks, Edna,” he charmed, flashing his signature grin as he gathered the order. 

“Anytime, sugar,” she charmed, her smile perking back up as she sent him a wink. 

With one last - albeit awkward - grin sent her way, Dean quickly left the diner; already feeling lighter for knowing he’d be back at the motel soon. His grin only grew when he glanced across the street and caught a glimpse of you staring back at him, proving that he wasn’t crazy and you really did come to meet him. 

He took a step forward, intending to call out to you, when a truck drove by and blocked you from sight. The grin was wiped from his face and the coffee tray nearly slipped out of his hand when he noticed you had completely disappeared in its wake. 

Fearing the worst once more, he scrambled into the car and quickly called you, firing Baby to life as the line rang. 

“Hey,” you answered with a stifled yawn. “Please tell me you’re getting breakfast. And coffee.” 

“Yeah, I-” he faltered in his response, having to let out a breath of relief as he realized you were safe and sound. “I’ll be back in a few, you and Sammy still there?” 

“Where else would we be?” you asked with a giggle. 

While the sound would normally bring a smile to his face, your words only caused a frown to appear. “You only waking up now?” 

“Don’t judge me,” you teased. “It’s only… ten after seven, I barely slept in.” 

“Just not used to being up before you,” he lied, knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel. 

“Miracles really do happen,” you joked with a laugh. “You sound weird, is everything okay?” you added, worry tinting your voice. 

“Hm?” he wondered, not processing your question right away. “Oh, no- yeah, I-... just didn’t get much sleep.”

“Right,” you said, teetering on the edge of believing him or not. 

“Really, I’m good,” he assured, sensing your apprehension. “I just gotta catch some z’s and I’ll be good as new.” 

“Okay. I’ll see you in a few then,” you relented. “Drive safe,” you added as an afterthought before hanging up.   

The line went dead as he stopped at a red light, his stomach churning as he stared at his reflection in the rearview.

“Just need some sleep,” he assured himself. 

“Dude, would you quit it with the pacing?” Sam snapped, setting his book down on the table for sheer lack of concentration. 

Dean stopped just long enough to stare daggers at his brother before marching down the library once more. “She’s been gone too long.” 

“She’s been gone an hour,” Sam informed, hands running over his face in exasperation. 

“Exactly,” Dean replied, pointing a finger at Sam in acknowledgment. “Something must’ve happened.” 

“Dude, she’s at the grocery store. With Jack. What the hell could possibly happen?” 

“I don’t know!” Dean exclaimed, arms flailing as he whirled to face Sam. “Something must’ve! She hasn’t answered my last text and it’s been-” he paused, pulling out his phone to brandish the screen. “Seven minutes!” 

“Oh, my god,” Sam groaned, tossing his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I can’t deal with this anymore.” 

“What are you talking about? Aren’t you worried?” Dean asked gruffly. 

“No, Dean, I’m not worried! There’s no reason to be worried!” Sam proclaimed. 

“No reason? She could be dead!” Dean barked, his face taking on an expression of disbelief. 

Sam sighed as he leaned over the table, raising his eyebrows. “Okay, let me ask you this: why, exactly, do you think she’s dead?” 

“Oh, come on, Sam!” Dean grumbled. “We don’t exactly live cookie cutter lives here, you know. One minute she’s returning the shopping cart, and the next she’s got a damn knife in her back!” 

“Dean,” Sam soothed. “You know as well as I do that’s a load of crap.” 

“No,” Dean argued, shaking his head. “We don’t know that. We don’t know anything, you know why?” 

Before Sam could even respond, Dean waved his phone around before dropping it on the table. “Because she won’t answer her damn phone!” 

“Okay, this is actually ridiculous,” Sam declared. “How can you seriously not see what’s been happening to you?” 

“Knock it off, Sam,” Dean muttered, waving a hand dismissively as he began pacing again. “I’m fucking fine.” 

“You’re fine,” Sam repeated incredulously. “You’re friggin’ cursed, Dean!” 

“I’m not cursed!” shouted Dean. “Would you quit it with that crap?” 

“Right, because nothing’s been going on with you lately, right?” 

“Right!” Dean agreed with a huff. 

“You haven’t been, say, I don’t know…. not sleeping? Feeling stir crazy? Getting paranoid?”

“Sam-” 

“No, I’m serious, Dean! How can you not see this?” 

“Because I’m fine!” Dean argued, stalling his movements to gather his phone from the table.

After a few moments of silence, Dean rolled his eyes and found himself once more walking the length of the library. “Okay, maybe I’ve been feeling a little weird lately, but I’ve just been tired - and you know what? I survived worse. So yeah, I’m fine!” 

“Right,” Sam said sceptically.  “And have you… noticed when it is that you feel… weird?”

“I don’t know!” Dean announced frustratedly.

“Dean,” Sam chastised. 

“What?” 

“You’ve been feeling like this all week, and it’s only getting worse. You’ve been like this since that witch cursed you - and don’t say she didn’t. Use your fucking head, Dean! You’re cursed!” 

Dean’s jaw clenched as he tried to remain calm, taking a moment to formulate his response. “You’re insane,” he finally declared. 

“I think you’re the insane one,” Sam contested. “You were cursed to yearn for something, Dean. Only in this case… it’s someone.” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” 

“C’mon, Dean!” Sam pleaded with a laugh. “The only time you get like this is when you’re more than ten feet away from [Y/N].” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean muttered dismissively. 

“You’ve checked your phone another five times since you picked it up.” 

“So?” Dean questioned, failing to resist the urge to check it once more. “I’m worried, not cursed.” 

“You’re worried because you’re cursed!” Sam argued. 

“I’m worried because I lo-” Dean quickly fell silent as the words died on his tongue, his brain firing into total overdrive as he laughed nervously. “I care, that’s why I’m worried.” 

Sam stared at his brother in total disbelief, trying to find a way to make him realize what was going on- or, most likely, acknowledge what was going on. 

Yet before the conversation could go any further, the bunker door screeched open and the sound of your laughter fleeted down to greet Dean, effectively turning his scowl into an affectionate grin. 

“Hope you remembered my pie!” he called out, marching to meet you at the foot of the stairs without so much as a glance back in Sam’s direction. 

“When have I ever forgotten?” you asked, feigning offence as you held out the bag which contained his pie.

“Well,” he started, taking the bag from you. “There was that time in Redford-”

“Hey!” you interrupted with a laugh. “I didn’t forget, they were out!”

“See, I still don’t believe you,” he teased, heading for the kitchen. 

“Believe whatever you want, Dean,” you replied playfully. 

“I’m still waiting for it, you know. You should get me two next time,” he joked, though he was partly serious. 

“Dean?” Sam’s voice tentatively called out.

“Yeah?” Dean replied hotly, keeping his back to Sam as he went to grab a beer from the fridge. 

“Who, uh… who the hell are you talking to?” he asked carefully, surveying the empty kitchen. 

“Hilarious, Sam,” he said dryly, shutting the fridge. “I’m talking to-”

His mouth ran dry as he turned around, being met with just his brother, who was staring with concern from the doorway. 

“[Y/N],” Dean finished weakly. 

“Her and Jack aren’t back yet, Dean,” Sam said carefully, as though talking to a lost child. 

“Yes, they are. They got back, she gave me my pie, we came in here,” Dean said fiercely, his confidence shattering when he went to gesture at the pie he set down moments earlier and found it to be gone.  

“Maybe you should sit down,” Sam suggested, not knowing what to do. 

“I’m fine!” Dean shouted, hovering over the counter. “I’m fine,” he repeated, moreso to himself than anything. 

“Okay, look, how about I try calling [Y/N], okay?” Sam offered, hesitantly walking further into the kitchen. “See when they’ll be back.” 

“They are back!” Dean barked, glaring at Sam. “She was just in here!” 

Sam didn’t know what to say, the fear and concern for his brother crashing down on him. 

“She was just in here,” Dean repeated shakily, meeting Sam’s gaze with confusion. 

“Dean,” Sam started to say, before the familiar tone of your ringtone came from Dean’s phone, cutting through the air like a knife. 

Dean pulled the phone from his pocket, clearing his throat before answering. “Yeah?” 

“Dean, thank god,” you cheered, sighing in relief. “Listen, we came out to a flat tire and I don’t have a spare because I forgot to fucking replace it and there are too many people around for Jack to, you know, try fixing it,” you rambled anxiously. “Can you please come help?” 

“You’re still at the store?” Dean clarified, looking up at Sam with frightened eyes. 

“Yeah, we’re stuck in the parking lot,” you told him breezily. 

“Okay,” he said, swallowing thickly. “Alright, I’ll be right there.” 

“Thanks, De!” you said happily, ending the call. 

Dean stood there for a few moments staring down at his unopened bottle of beer on the counter, trying to gather his thoughts, before finally lifting his gaze to Sam.

“I’ll, uh…. I’ll be back,” he told him, not waiting for a response before trudging out of the kitchen.

You found yourself yet again rushing down the hall to Dean’s room, his muffled yells waking you in the dead of night once more. 

He uttered your name as you shut the door behind you, and though it took you by surprise the very first time it happened - nearly two weeks ago, now - it was something you’ve almost come to expect. It was killing you, watching him go through this every night and not being able to fix it. You would sit with him, find ways to gently rouse him from his terror filled slumber and comfort him when he woke, but it never seemed like enough; he deserved more.

At first you didn’t think there was too much going on, figuring his shift in behaviour was just due to his lack of sleep. You didn’t believe Sam when he talked to you about it; Dean may have been acting a little more strange than usual, but it didn’t raise any red flags.

It wasn’t until the morning following your conversation that you noticed it, cluing in and realising how different Dean had been; how long he’d been different. The excess text messages, the increase in phone calls, the insistence on you not going anywhere without him and his exuberant reactions to you getting back safe when you did go somewhere without him, his constant questioning on where you were or where you’ve just been. Something else was going on, and you could only think it really did come down to the witch you two encountered.  So you and Sam called up Rowena, getting her take on the situation and figuring out what to do. 

Her words now echoed through your head as you perched yourself on the edge of his bed: “Magic isn’t simple. Some curses are anchored by the witch, ending whenever they were to die. But others are more complex, rooted not in the witch but the object of the curse itself, not breaking until their purpose is carried out one way or another. Perhaps if you can figure out what it is Dean needs, you can break the curse yourselves. If this carries on for any longer… I’m worried it will kill him.” 

While you ran your fingers through his hair, you decided right then and there that once he woke up, you wouldn’t leave without confronting him about it. You knew it would likely start a fight, and you felt a little guilty knowing you would all but interrogate him right after having another nightmare, but all that guilt flew right out the window the second Dean startled himself awake, the sight of his panic stricken face as he gasped for air nearly bringing you to tears; you’ve seen him like this too often as of late. 

“It’s alright, Dean,” you soothed, reaching out to him. “I’m right here, everything’s fine.” 

His gaze snapped to you, unable to hide the confusion and terror still coursing through him despite the relief he felt. “[Y/N]?” 

“Yeah, De,” you cooed, running a hand across his shoulder blades. “We’re in your room, everyone’s okay.” 

He let out a shuddering breath, hanging his head in his hands. “You’re okay,” he whispered softly. “You’re okay.” 

You sat quietly with him for a few more minutes, patiently comforting him as best as you could while you thought of how to approach this conversation. 

Clearing his throat, Dean was the first to speak again as he rose from the bed. “Sorry I woke you again.” 

The dejection and shame laced in his voice tore your heart to bits, and you had to put up a good fight to keep your emotions in check. “You don’t need to apologize.” 

“Yeah, I do,” he disagreed, trudging to his sink in the corner. 

“Dean, please talk to me,” you pleaded, watching as he turned on the water. 

You fell silent, waiting for him to deny you and brush you off again. You waited for him to say something, to do something, but all he did was stare at the running water. 

“Dean?” you asked cautiously, slowly getting up from the bed yourself. 

“I can’t save you,” he muttered quietly, his gaze on the faucet unyielding. 

“What?” you asked curiously, not knowing what he meant. 

“I can never save you,” he carried on. “You always just… slip away from me. Every time. It’s always the same.” 

“What’s always the same?” you questioned, moving closer towards him. 

“I try,” he muttered, seemingly oblivious to your presence. “I run, and I fight, and I try, but I can never reach you. I can never get to you.”

He seemed to snap out of his daze a little, moving to splash water over his face before turning off the tap. “You keep dying. I keep watching you die. I can’t watch you die again, [Y/N]. I can’t.” 

“This is what your nightmares have been?” you wondered. 

He fell silent again for a minute before meeting your gaze in the mirror. “Yeah.” 

“It’s not real, Dean,” you told him softly.

“It’s real enough for me,” he muttered, turning to face you. 

“And is this why you’ve been… acting differently towards me?” you asked hesitantly. 

He averted his gaze, hanging his head as he considered your question. “I guess,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe, yeah. I don’t know.” 

“Dean,” you scolded with a sigh, plopping back down on the bed. “Why won’t you just tell me what’s going on?” 

“Because everything’s fine!” he argued once again. 

“I’m not stupid, Dean!” you challenged. “I know you. I can see something's eating you alive and it’s fucking killing me to witness it. So please, tell me what the hell is going on.” 

“It’s just nightmares,” he lied, crossing his arms against his chest. 

“It’s more than nightmares!” you cried. “You’re withering away into nothing, Dean! I mean let’s face it! You’re practically a zombie nowadays with how little sleep you get, you’ve been acting like a puppy with separation anxiety, and let’s not forget how completely erratic you’ve been.”

He glared at you, jaw clenching as he decided whether or not to entertain this conversation. “Okay, so maybe I haven’t slept lately,” he admitted starkly. “But like I keep saying, I’m fine.” 

“Don’t you ever get tired of lying?” you sneered, glaring up at him. 

He rolled his eyes, averting his gaze to anywhere else as he shook his head. “No, but I’m getting tired of having this conversation all the time.” 

“Well too bad!” you yelled, abruptly standing from the bed. “Cause I’m tired of never having this conversation go anywhere! I’m tired of you brushing off the idea of you being cursed. I didn’t believe it at first either, but what the hell else could it be, Dean?” 

“Oh, come on!” he barked, running a hand over his face. “I see Sam got his hooks into you.” 

“Yeah, he did. And you need to listen to us.” 

“No, I really don’t,” he scoffed, starting to head to the door. 

“Even if it kills you?” you blurted out. 

“It’s not gonna kill me!” 

“God, look at you, Dean! It already is!” you argued, marching closer to him. “How would you feel if the situation were reversed?” 

He let out a sigh, pausing with his hand on the doorknob before turning back to you. “What?” 

“What if it were me going through all this instead of you? Would you let me get away with not even listening to you and Sam?” 

He narrowed his eyes at you, staring at you in silence for so long you expected him to turn away again. Instead, he let out a deep breath as he took a seat, gesturing for you to carry on. “Five minutes.” 

You almost went to argue before you thought better of it, knowing full well that if Dean never came around to the theory he would actually cut you off at the five minute mark. So, you did your best to recount the entire situation for him, reiterating what you, Sam, and Rowena had to say about it all in the hopes of getting through to him. By the time you finished, you knew it was well over five minutes, so you took Dean not interrupting you to be a good sign. 

“Okay,” he finally said with a small nod. “Well, I listened. Can I go now?” 

Your heart dropped to your stomach, anger and fear bubbling inside of you as you exploded. “God, you are unbelievable!”

“Well what do you want me to say?” he grumbled. “I just don’t believe that’s what’s going on.” 

“How can you not believe it?” you asked incredulously. “It’s obvious!” 

“Look, I said I don’t believe it, alright?” Dean snapped. “Why are you so hellbent on making this into some big fight? Just accept it.” 

“No!” you seethed. “I can’t just accept the fact that this could kill you. Especially not when there’s a way we could end this.” 

“No,” he disagreed, shaking his head. “You can’t fix this, [Y/N/N]. You just can’t.” 

“I can!” you cried. “Just tell me.” 

“Tell you what?” 

“You know what,” you scolded. 

“This is so fucking ridiculous.” 

“Tell me anyway.” 

“Why the hell do you care so much?” he questioned exasperatedly. 

“Because I’m fucking terrified, Dean!” you exclaimed. “I’ve watched you grow more restless and anxious every day since the night we finished that case. I’ve seen the life drain from you more and more as sleep became nearly impossible for you. And I know it’s nearly impossible for you, because I have spent the last eleven nights sitting on that bed as you got terrorised by your own mind. I don’t care if you believe in this curse or not, Dean, because I do.” 

Dean stood quietly, absorbing what you said as the severity of the situation began to dawn on him. 

“I mean don’t you get it?” you asked sadly, cutting through the silence. “If something happens to you, if I lose you… that’s not something I can come back from.” 

Dean fell silent once more, running a hand through his hair as he took a deep breath, pacing around the room a little as he turned everything over in his head. 

“I’m scared, Dean,” you reiterated softly. “Please, just let us try to fix this.” 

“There’s some things I should tell you, then,” he admitted quietly after a moment of silence, taking a seat on the bed. 

“About what’s been happening?” you asked hopefully. 

He nodded, staring down at his hands folded in his lap. “Yeah.” 

“Okay,” you said, moving his desk chair to take a seat. “I’m listening.” 

He took a bracing breath, taking a few minutes to build the courage to speak. “Well, you know I’ve been having nightmares.” 

“I do,” you agreed quietly. 

“It’s always the same one,” he admitted, keeping his gaze cast downwards. “I could never figure out why. It didn't make sense to me why it was always the same thing. So I finally talked to Sam about it, and he had a pretty good theory. But, you know me. I didn’t want to believe it because it came back down to that witch and this stupid fucking curse.” 

He let out a bitter laugh, pausing long enough for you to speak up. “What did he have to say about it?” 

“I tried telling myself I was fine,” he continued, ignoring your question. “I was fine, at first. At first it was just not sleeping well… but then other things started happening.” 

“Other things like what?” you wondered quietly. 

“Like my blood feeling like it’s on fucking fire,” he muttered, wiping at his face. “And my skin feeling like it-… like it’s being peeled off my goddamn bones, and my face feeling like it’s melting… and how I get this- this bubble inside my chest that feels like it’s either gonna burst or suffocate me and how it all only happens-” he stopped in his rambling, taking a deep breath before chuckling in disbelief. “God, it only happens when you’re not around, [Y/N].” 

“I-... what do you mean?” you asked breathlessly. 

“Oh, come on, [Y/N],” he said bitterly. “I know you’ve noticed. I text you more, I’m almost always calling you. I just- I get this… this unwavering panic inside me when you’re not around. I keep-... I swear to god I see you everywhere when you’re gone. I catch sight of you across the street, I smell your stupid shampoo when I’m alone, I hear your voice when no one’s there. I had an entire conversation with you and you weren’t even there,” he carried on, shaking his head as he briskly wiped away an angry tear. “God, I’m going fucking crazy,” he added with a manic chuckle. 

“You’re not crazy, Dean,” you said gently. 

“That night,” he started, staring at the wall across from him. “She was trying to get back someone she lost… someone she loved.” 

“Right,” you agreed. 

“They used to drown them, people they accused of being witches,” he continued slowly. 

“Yeah, it was pretty common. Sink, and you were innocent. Float, and you were guilty,” you pitched in. “But… what does that have to do with this?”

“I think they were innocent,” he said simply. “Whoever she lost… I think that’s how she lost them.” 

“Why do you think that?” you asked curiously. 

Dean cleared his throat, staring pensively at his hands once more. “The nightmares. It’s always… you always drown. I keep-... I can never save you.” 

“I don’t get-” you started to say, before he cut you off. 

“It’s how she lost who she loves, [Y/N],” he said curtly. “It makes sense for me to see the one I love go the same way.” 

“I-... what?” you asked, too stunned to think of anything else to say. 

“The dreams, the hallucinations, the- the way I’ve been feeling… I didn’t want to admit it, I still don’t, but I can’t… I mean I can only ignore it for so long, right?” he said, scoffing quietly. “Especially with you and Sam breathing down my neck about it.” 

“Ignore what, Dean?” you asked breathlessly, your heart hammering in your chest. 

“You,” he muttered. “They way I feel about you. The way I’ve always felt about you.” 

You didn’t dare respond, his words ringing in your ears as he fell silent, each of you lost in your own thoughts for a while. 

“I’ve always known that I love you, [Y/N/N],” he carried on, slowly meeting your gaze with glistening eyes. “But this… this curse, this whatever it is. God, it’s just made it all so much worse, and I knew. I knew it was you that my entire being was screaming out for but I couldn’t… I couldn’t admit it.” 

“Why not?” you asked shakily, feeling your tears starting to build. 

“How could I put that on you?” he asked, a few rogue tears slipping down his face. “You said it yourself, this thing is killing me. It’s gonna kill me, unless I get what I want, and given that that’s you, I’m calling it game over.” 

“No, Dean, it’s not,” you denied with a sniffle, cutting through your own stray tears. “You should’ve told me.” 

“Yeah, well,” he grumbled, shrugging lightly as he looked back at his hands. “I told you now.” 

“Dean,” you sighed, wiping your face as you stood from your seat. “Do you trust me?” you asked, walking towards him.

“Of course I do,” he said quickly, almost offended by the question. 

“Okay, well, I’ll need you to trust me on this,” you replied, stopping just in front of where he sat. 

“Okay,” he said with a huff. 

“You gotta look at me, though,” you said, laughing softly. 

Sighing dejectedly, he slowly lifted his head to meet your gaze, a ghost of a smile dancing on his lips as he looked at you. 

You smiled softly at him, gently taking his face in your hands before wordlessly bringing your lips down to meet his. At first, neither of you really knew what was happening, and just when you thought to pull away you felt his lips moving against your own. His hands gripped your waist to hold you in place a moment longer before you each pulled away, staring silently at each other as you processed what just happened. 

“What, uh… what was that for?” Dean finally asked. 

“Well, it was either that or slapping some sense into you,” you said playfully. “Which I almost think you still deserve, because I can’t believe you honestly think I don’t love you back.” 

“What?” he asked, his grip on your waist loosening in shock before tightening once more. 

“You’ve had me since the day we met, Dean,” you told him softly, carding your fingers through his hair. 

“You actually…” he trailed off quietly, trying to focus his thoughts. “You actually love me, of all people?” 

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “I do.” 

“So I- well, I guess I could’ve saved a lot of trouble if I really did just tell you, huh?” he asked jokingly, laughing tightly. 

“I’ll give you hell for it tomorrow,” you teased, half serious. “For now, how about we try getting you back to sleep?” 

“Actually,” he said, eyes sparkling with mischief. “I have a better idea involving this bed.” 

You couldn’t help but snort a laugh, grinning fondly at him. “Oh, really?” 

He grinned back, laughing with you before taking on a more sombre tone. “Do you trust me?” 

“Always,” you said honestly. 

“Good,” he replied with a grin, laughing heartily at the shriek you let out when he tossed you on the bed. 

He stared down at you, a look you’ve never seen before painted on his face. “What?” you asked, giggling nervously.

“I love you,” he said earnestly, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. 

“I love you, too,” you replied shyly, grinning softly. 

He matched your grin, drinking you in a moment longer before crashing his lips upon yours once more. 

When Dean woke the next morning, it didn’t take long for a grin to spread across his face as he quickly realized two things. 

The first thing being that you, the love of his life, still remained tangled up in both his arms and the sheets, sleeping peacefully atop his chest. 

The second being that, for the first time in a total of thirteen days, he was able to sleep without being haunted by his nightmares. 

He felt you stir, and his grin widened as you nestled in closer, tightening your grip on him as you slept. He planted a kiss against your temple, pulling you in close as he blissfully settled in for another peaceful rest. 

Maybe witches aren’t so bad.

tagging: @roseblue373

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[yuujispinkhair]

Sukuna’s the type of baby daddy that even if you break you never really broke up 😭 and if you got pregnant again there no chance in hell it could be anyone else’s kid besides his

The love you and Sukuna have is world-changing. Even after you break up, you are both still stuck on the other and unable to move on.

Pairing: Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: Hurt + comfort, fluff, mentions of smut Word Count: 1.5k Warnings: 18+, mentions of smut but nothing explicit. Reader and Sukuna break up, but they get back together at the end of the story. There is a happy end. They already have a daughter together, and another pregnancy is mentioned at the end. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact. Divider @/benkeibear

It's not that you aren't trying to get over Sukuna. You really do. After a week of crying your eyes out, you decide to go out. It's not even that hard to get chatted up by some guy at a bar. But when his hand lands on your knee, you practically bolt. It feels so wrong, so dirty somehow. As if your body is still Sukuna's territory and no one else is worthy of touching you.

You try again a week later and the week after, too. But none of the men you meet spark your interest. Maybe this shouldn't come as a surprise. After all, only a few weeks ago, you had Sukuna. You had the best. There simply is no one who can compare to him. No one will ever make you feel the way Sukuna did.

You regret the breakup. It was stupid. Just small things that accumulated over several weeks, combined with a bad day at work and Sukuna being grumpy when you got home. You could have handled it differently.

But now, your bed always feels cold, and your heart doesn't seem to be in your chest anymore. Instead, there is a stone in your chest, heavy and painful, while your heart is in another part of this city, in the hands of the man who will always be the one for you, even if you will never get back together with him again.

+++

Sukuna asks to see his child, but you feel unable to face him, so you cowardly text him back, telling him to just pick your daughter up from kindergarten and spend the afternoon with her. When Sukuna brings her home in the evening, you are relieved that he seems to have gotten the hint. He doesn't come inside but waits at the front door as your daughter runs up the stairs to your apartment.

But you aren't strong enough not to hurry to the large window that faces the street, gazing outside to see Sukuna's familiar tall, broad figure slowly stroll down the street toward his car. His pink hair looks just like the cherry blossoms that fall down onto the road like pretty, pink snowflakes.

You know you will never be able to look at cherry trees again without feeling sadness wash over you.

Maybe you will try going on another date with some new guy, but deep down, you know that it will be in vain. It will always feel wrong. It will always feel like something is missing. Because none of those men are Sukuna. No one can be like him. There is only one Sukuna. Everyone else will always just be second best.

Sukuna isn't even trying to get over you. Not anymore.

On the first night after your breakup, he was a mess and stormed off to some bar, desperate for a distraction. Anything that would keep him from getting overwhelmed by his feelings.

He had some drinks and flirted with a random girl. Even took her home, thinking that sex would help him feel better. But the moment she tried to unbutton his shirt, Sukuna grabbed her wrists and stopped her.

It felt wrong. He felt wrong. As if he was cheating on you. He told the girl to leave and watched with his arms crossed as she angrily slammed his door shut before Sukuna sank down on his couch and buried his face in his hands.

He knew right then and there that it was no use to go out and try to have hookups. It wouldn't work, and it sure as hell would only make him feel worse.

In the following weeks, Sukuna worked longer and spent more time at the gym, always trying to stay busy because as soon as he got home to his deadly silent apartment, he was drowning in thoughts about you. Drowning in all those happy memories the two of you had made over the years.

You were Sukuna's love, his heart, his everything. He hadn't known or understood love until he met you. So how is he supposed to ever get over you and move on? It's impossible. You are still his everything, and you will always be.

And so it's clear as day to Sukuna that he won't even try to move on. He knows he will always be yours, whether you are together or not. He was only able to give his heart away once. And even if you don't want it anymore, it still belongs to you.

+++

Sukuna spends two days every week with his daughter, happy to see his little girl but sad because he misses the time when all three of you did things together. And when she looks at him with your eyes and asks him, "Daddy, why don't you just come home again?" Sukuna feels his heart shatter into a million pieces.

Sukuna doesn't know what to tell her. He, too, can't understand why the two of you decided to break up. It was stupid. Nothing big caused it. Just small things that added up, and looking back they seem insignificant.

"I don't know, princess. Maybe Daddy should really go home and talk to Mommy."

He decides at that moment that he will get roses and come up to your door this evening.

+++

Sukuna's chest feels painfully tight when you open the door, and he sees your face again after all those weeks, hitting him with just how much he missed you.

He hands you the roses, a beautiful huge bouquet that cost a little fortune, his eyes gazing deeply into yours,

"Please take those flowers. They come without any obligation to take me back or even talk to me. But I want to give them to you because you are still the mother of my child. And... and you will always be my woman, just like I will always be your man, even if we aren't together."

He fears he sounds like a creep, that he overstepped a boundary, and that he made you uncomfortable. But he has had lots of time to think during the last few weeks, and he promised himself that he would be more open about his feelings if he ever gets a chance to talk to you again.

You stare at Sukuna for a moment that feels like hours to him. But then he sees the tears gathering in your eyes and sees the way your hand that's holding the flowers is trembling. You breathe a soft "Kuna..." and Sukuna knows. He knows that you are still his, just like he is still yours.

He pulls you into his arms a split second later, crushing the beautiful roses between your bodies as he hugs you tightly. And you melt so perfectly against him as if you are made for him. Your face is pressed against his broad chest, and you snuggle against him, every centimeter of you touching him. You cling to him so tightly that it's almost painful, but it's the first time since your breakup that Sukuna feels like he can breathe again.

"I am sorry. I am so sorry for everything."

You both speak the words at the same time, eyes locked, small relieved smiles playing around your mouths.

You tell Sukuna to stay for dinner, and he agrees. He takes over the kitchen again, his kitchen, and prepares a dinner that he knows his two girls always loved. He sits at your table again, jokes around with his little daughter, and basks in the way you look at him with your eyes full of happiness.

Sukuna doesn't just stay for dinner but stays the whole night.

He kisses you after the two of you bring your daughter to bed. Pushes you gently against the wall and claims your lips again, though deep down, he knows that those lips always belonged to him, even when you were apart.

He grins when you laugh when he picks you up and carries you princess-style to the bedroom. Your lips are on his again, kissing him as if you can't get enough of him, making it hard to walk, but Sukuna would find his way to your bedroom even blind.

He locks the door behind you, turning around only to find your hands on his chest, unbuttoning his shirt while your lips find his again in another passionate but tender kiss that makes Sukuna moan softly into your mouth.

He makes slow love to you in the bed you bought together all those years ago, showing you what it feels like to be loved and desired and cherished endlessly. And you wrap your arms and legs around him and meet each of his slow thrusts while you moan his name softly, and tears run down your cheeks, showing Sukuna the same love he is showing you.

Sukuna doesn't leave again after that night.

The two of you talk things out, and only a week later, Sukuna finally puts a ring on your finger and tells your little daughter that she needs to pick a pretty dress because she will be a flower girl at the wedding.

And only a month later, you place a positive pregnancy test on Sukuna's pillow, making both of you burst out laughing when you realize that you and Sukuna must have made another baby that first night when he came back and brought you the roses.

Thank you so much for the ask! It made me feel so many things, so I had to get these feelings out and write this little story 😭 I hope you enjoyed it and that it made you emotional, too. How could there ever be anyone else after Sukuna? It's really not possible 😭

Thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet 💗

[mythicalmaven]

19 Lando fluff and smut please

Secret Desires - Lando Norris

Loved writing this! <3 If you guys want a part 2 where the whole ordeal continues (including Lando’s awkward encouter with Max) let me know!😂❤️

Masterlist ↳pairing: Lando Norris x female!verstappen!reader ↳word count: 4,6K ↳Summary: In which the reader is Max Verstappen's twin is Lando's friend & he accidentally confesses some things to her while he's drunk. The day after when he apologizes, it leads to something more. ↳content warnings: friends to lovers, reader is Max Verstappen's twin, lando is drunk and accidentally confesses something to the reader, suggestive content, flirting, dirty talk, sexting, sending nudes, phone sex, masturbation (both f! & m!), praise kink, fluff, smut, 18+ (MDNI!), confessing feelings ↳prompts used: 19 - "Do you have any idea how many times I thought about you.. with my hand down my pants"

You sighed deeply, sinking back into the comfort of the guest bed in your older sister's house, the covers wrapping around you like a warm embrace. The room felt different compared to your Monaco apartment, but it was cozy, filled with the nostalgia of growing up with your family as you saw the pictures hanging on the wall. Pictures of your parents, of you and your twin brother Max, of you and Victoria & so on.

You traded your own bed for the guest bedroom at Victoria's house back home in the Netherlands for the week, to spend some time with your sister again to catch up. After a long night of chatting with Vic, you finally decided to call it a day, though sleep was far from your mind.

Just as you were about to close your eyes to at least give sleeping a try, your phone lit up on the nightstand, a soft buzz drawing your attention. You reached over lazily, expecting a random notification, but your heart skipped a beat when you saw the name flashing on the screen: Lando

Your best friend, your partner in crime, and the guy you’d been secretly in love with for longer than you’d care to admit. The guy who made your heart race with a single smile and had you questioning your sanity every time you felt his touch linger just a little too long. Even though you refused to admit it to anyone with a passion. Stating that the way you felt about Lando was nothing more than two flirtatious friends. You knew you were lying to yourself and your facade was starting to crumble. And now he was texting you, at this hour?

Unlocking your phone, you were met with not one, but several messages from him. You squinted at the screen, reading the texts slowly as they loaded, your eyes widening more with each one.

Lando: Y/n… Lando: Fuhk.. why are you sooooo hotttt? 🥵 Lando: Do yhu have any idea howw many tiems I thout about you… with my hnd down my pantss Lando: *1 image attached* You felt your face heat up instantly, a wave of flustered shock washing over you. He send a photo that you had posted on your story on Instagram today, a photo of you in a cute bikini set at the pool at Vic's house.

What the hell? Lando was… Was he really saying what you thought he was saying? Your mind spun, trying to process the drunk, typo-riddled texts. You knew he must have had a few too many drinks tonight; he mentioned going out to a party with the grid earlier. But this?

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, your heart racing as you tried to think of a response. A thousand emotions crashed through you at once—embarrassment, confusion, a thrill of excitement. You could barely breathe.

You: Lan, you're drunk as fuck. Go to sleep 😂

you typed back quickly, hitting send before you could second-guess yourself. You barely had time to process your own message before another one from Lando popped up.

Lando: Drunk on love 🤭

Your heart did a somersault in your chest, and you felt your cheeks burning even hotter. What was he doing? Your pulse thudded loudly in your ears as you stared at the screen, fingers frozen above the keyboard, unsure of what to say. Before you could collect your thoughts, your phone buzzed again, but this time, it was a call.

Max’s name flashed on the screen.

You answered, bringing the phone to your ear. “Max, what the hell—”

“Sorry dat ik zo laat bel,” (sorry for calling at this time) Max's voice was low and slightly slurred with a laugh. “Maar ik zag dat je online was, dus dacht, jij bent nog wakker. Wilde je alleen even een seintje geven dat de kans vrij aannemelijk is dat je vannacht nog dronken appjes krijgt van Lando.” (But I saw that you were online, so I figured you were still awake. Just wanted to give you a heads up that it's very likely that you'll receive some drunk texts from Lando tonight)

You rolled your eyes, stifling a laugh of your own. Of course, your twin brother knew exactly what was happening. “De kerel is echt gewoon laveloos en hield zijn mond maar niet dicht over je. De hele rit terug naar zijn apartment bleef hij maar zeuren over hoe hij je moest appen over iets geheimzinnigs. Dacht ik waarschuw je even.” (The guy is absolutely hammered and he wouldn't shut up about you. Kept yapping about how he had to text you about something secretive. Thought it would be nice to warn you)

“Te laat, is al gebeurd” (too late, he already did) you replied with a chuckle, glancing back at Lando's messages. “Had al zo’n vermoeden dat hij dronken was haha.” (I already figured he was drunk)

“Dacht ik al,” (I thought so) Max chuckled. “Hou het een beetje netjes, ja? Ik wil hier niet meer van weten dan ik al doe.” (Please keep it decent, yeah? I don't want to know any more about this than I already do)

You could almost hear the grin in his voice. “Maar ik moest hem echt thuisbrengen, de jongen was niet meer te houden.” (But I just had to bring him home, couldn't keep him at bay anymore)

“Dank je, Max,” (Thanks, Max) you said softly, biting your lip. “Je bent een goede broer.” (You're a good brother)

“Altijd,” (Always) Max replied. “Ik moet wel weer ophangen nu, voordat ik Kelly en P wakker maak. Succes met je dronken vriendje.” (Gotta hang now tho, before I wake up Kelly and P. Good luck with your boyfriend)

“Max, hoe vaak moet ik nog zeggen dat Lando en ik gewoon vrienden zijn” (Max, how often do I have to tell you that Lando and I are just friends) you said, rolling your eyes.

"Als jij jezelf niet zo voor de gek hield, waren jullie al lang samen" (If you didn't keep lying to yourself, you two would have dated a long time already) and with a last chuckle, he hung up.

You flopped back onto your bed, your mind racing, Lando’s texts still staring at you from the screen. Your fingers shook as you picked up your phone again, reading his words over and over, your stomach flipping with nerves and something else, something hotter, more dangerous.

With a deep breath, you tried to shake it off. Lando was just drunk, you told yourself. He didn’t mean it. It didn’t mean anything… Right? But the way your heart fluttered at the thought of him thinking about you like that, the way your skin prickled with excitement at the idea that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way…

You forced yourself to put the phone down, closing your eyes and trying to ignore the wild thoughts racing through your mind. It was late, and you needed to sleep. But as you drifted off, your dreams were anything but peaceful. Lando's words echoed in your mind, and you found yourself imagining all the things he might have done while thinking about you, the way he might have said your name, the way his hands might have—

You woke up, flustered and breathless, your body tingling in a way that was all too familiar. The morning sun was peeking through the curtains, but all you could think about was Lando, and the way his words made you feel things you’d tried so hard to ignore.

Around the same time, somewhere in Monaco, Lando jolts awake.

"Fuck" the single word comes out as a hiss, his head pounding from the hangover. His phone screen glares back at him, a series of messages and a notification from Max catching his blurry gaze. He squints, his heart starting to race as fragmented memories of the night before come flooding back.

He fumbles to unlock his phone, praying he didn’t do what he thinks he did. But the evidence is right there, the bold lettering of your name above the most mortifying message he could ever have sent, full of typos, but easily desiphered as 'Do you have any idea how many times I thought about you… with my hand down my pants?'

“Shit, shit, shit,” he mutters, running a hand through his messy curls, anxiety flooding his system. What the fuck had he done? His fingers move of their own accord, tapping out a frantic apology.

Lando: Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry.

You: Good morning to you too. How is your headache? 😉

He cringes at the situation, a mix of playful and mocking. His mind races, grasping at straws to somehow make this situation less embarrassing.

Lando: I don’t even remember sending that. I’m so fucking sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, pretty sure I wasn't thinking at all. I didn’t mean it.

A lie. He did mean it. But he’s not ready to admit that just yet.

You: Oh, you definitely weren’t thinking, lol. But hey, maybe you should apologize to Max too, since you apparently spilled some beans about me to him. 😆

Lando’s eyes widen, horror painting his features. “Oh, fuck,” he groans, rubbing his forehead. He types back, heart racing.

Lando: What did I say? Please tell me I didn’t—

You: Relax, nothing too scandalous. Just enough for Max to find it disgusting.

Despite himself, a small laugh escapes his lips. He can picture Max’s reaction, the exaggerated gagging, the inevitable jokes he’ll have to endure.

Lando: I’m so sorry. Are you mad at me? I don’t want you to think I’m some idiot who can’t control himself.

You: Nah, I’m not mad. You were drunk, it’s not like you meant it anyway, right?

He swallows hard, your words hitting too close to home. A dry response forms on his screen.

Lando: Yeah, sure.

But deep down, he knows it’s not true. He’d thought about you like that more times than he cared to admit, a dangerous longing simmering beneath the surface of your friendship.

You: Hey, at least now I know I looked hot in yesterday’s bikini post.

Heat floods his cheeks. You’re playing it off, but there’s a hint of something in your words, a subtle curiosity. He swallows, fingers hovering over the keyboard before he types back, heart pounding.

Lando: Stating the obvious.

He can’t help the grin tugging at his lips as he imagines your reaction. It’s risky, but you don’t seem upset, and he’s willing to test the waters.

You: Oh? So you think I’m hot?

Lando: Didn’t know that was up for debate.

He’s toeing the line, the thrill of it sending a spark through him.

Lando: U really not mad? I’d hate to make you uncomfortable.

You: Mad? Nah. Flattered, maybe.

He blinks at your response, surprise mingling with a rush of arousal. Flattered? His mind reels, thoughts scrambling as he tries to figure out what to say next.

You: I have to admit tho, when I first got that message, I thought you’d sent something different than my own instagram post…🤭

His breath catches, heart skipping a beat. The implication is clear, and he feels himself growing hard at the mere thought of you expecting a more explicit photo from him. He shifts uncomfortably, typing out a teasing response.

Lando: So, you’re saying you opened it anyway, even though you thought I sent you a spicy picture? 😉

You: Shut up.

He laughs, imagining the flustered look on your face. It’s too easy to picture, and he leans back against his pillows, biting his lip.

Lando: Where are you?

You: In bed. Why?

Lando's breath got caught in his throat. A dangerous idea takes root in his mind, one that’s equally thrilling and terrifying. He knows he should stop, should draw the line before it goes too far. But something in your responses, the playful edge, the hint of curiosity, makes him want to push further.

Lando: Just curious. 😉

His mind races, and before he can second-guess himself, he snaps a quick photo. It’s not much,—just him lying back on his bed, shirt unbuttoned halfway, his abs on display and his hair a mess. He was still wearing the same outfit as yesterday, apparently not changed out of it. But there’s something undeniably suggestive in the way he looks at the camera, the flush on his cheeks, a knowing smile on his lips as he sends it with a caption.

Lando: I can send you one for real if you want to see one.

His heart hammers in his chest as he waits for your response, the seconds dragging by agonizingly slowly. Then your reply comes in, teasing and playful.

You: Kinda daring coming from the guy who was apologizing 10 minutes ago for accidentally sending his best friend a text about thinking about her with his hand down his pants😉

Your words send a thrill through him, the boldness of it, the way you’re not backing down. He can’t resist pushing a little further, fingers trembling with anticipation.

Lando: You didn’t seem too disgusted by it.

The moment stretches out, his breath catching as he waits for your reply. The tightness in his dress pants becoming significantly worde.

When it comes, it’s more than he expected. 

You: I wasn’t. Actually, it was kinda hot.🫣

His eyes widen, arousal spiking as he reads your words again and again, disbelieving. Is this really happening? 

Lando: Yeah?

You: Yeah.

He swallows hard, a wicked idea forming in his mind. He glances down at the growing bulge in his pants, his arousal straining against the fabric. His hand moves almost on its own, snapping a quick picture of his hand palming himself through his dress pants, the outline of his erection unmistakable.

Lando: What about this? Still hot?

Your response is almost immediate.

You: Fuck, yes.

The words send a shiver down his spine, desire flaring as he imagines your reaction, the way you must be looking at your phone. He wants more, needs more.

Lando: Your turn.

There’s a pause, then a photo comes through. His breath hitches at the sight of you, flushed and flustered, the soft curve of your cleavage visible just above the red lace of your bra. It wasn't too naughty, but enough to send Lando reeling. 

He groans, his hand moving down to rub himself through his pants, a low moan escaping him as he imagines what’s beneath that thin fabric.

Lando: Fuck, babe, you’re killing me.

You: Good.

The playfulness in your response only fuels his desire, and he knows he should stop, should take a breath before this spirals out of control. But he doesn’t want to. Instead, he hits record on his camera, aiming it down at his crotch as he begins to palm himself through the fabric.

The video is short, just a few seconds of him rubbing himself, a low groan slipping from his lips. He ends it with a whispered “fuck,” his hand slipping beneath the waistband of his pants to give himself a teasing stroke before the video cuts off.

He sends it without thinking, heart racing as he imagines you watching it, the way your breath might hitch, the way you might bite your lip.

You: You’re really enjoying that, huh?

His breath hitched at your words, every sensation heightened as he slowly works himself up and down inside his dress pants, unable to contain the soft groans leaving his lips.

Lando: I do. Feels amazing... I wish you were here with me.

His hand is shaking now as he types out his next message, his arousal growing with every word.

Lando: Show me more.

There’s a beat of silence, and then another picture comes through. This one is more daring, more revealing. You’re under the blankets, one leg exposed, the other hidden beneath the covers. The waistband of your red panties is just visible above the edge of your blanket, your hand resting suggestively on your lower stomach, fingers reaching just into your panties.

Lando: Fuck, babe, that's so hot

Lando's breath catches as he stares at the photo you sent, his mind racing with all the things he wants to say, all the things he wants to do. He decided to take the leap and press the button to send you a facetime request. You accept it almost immediately, his heart pounding as your face fills the screen. You look flustered, lips slightly parted, and he swallows hard.

“Hi,” you say, your voice breathless, almost shy.

“You’re really fucking beautiful, you know that?” Lando murmurs, his voice thick with desire as he admired your flushed face.

You blush, your eyes darting away from the screen for a moment before you look back at him. “I think you’re the one who’s supposed to be embarrassed right now, not me.”

He grins, the playful tone of your voice sending another jolt of arousal through him. “Oh, trust me, I’m plenty embarrassed. But I’m also…” He hesitates, his gaze dropping down for a moment before he meets your eyes again, his voice dropping to a lower, huskier tone. “... really turned on.”

Your breath catches, and he watches as you shift on the bed, the movement causing the camera to reveal a little bit more of your cleavage and the red lace bra you were wearing. His eyes are drawn to the exposed skin, mesmerized by your body.

“What are you wearing?” The question slips out before he can stop it, his eyes dark with desire.

You glance down at yourself, then back at him, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. “Not much.”

He groans, his hand tightening around his phone. As he speaks, his other hand drifts back down, brushing over the ever-growing bulge in his pants again. “Can I see?” The words are thick with anticipation, his voice trembling slightly as he palms himself, the sensation sending a wave of pleasure through him. He bites his lip, letting out a quiet moan that he can’t quite suppress.

You hesitate, your teeth worrying your bottom lip as you consider his request. Then, slowly, you change your camera angle and pull the blanket down just a little, revealing the soft skin of your stomach, the red lace of your panties, the soft curve of your thigh. Lando feels a jolt of arousal shooting through him, and he has to bite back a groan. It’s just enough to tease, to make him want more. 

“Fuck, Y/N…” His voice is rough, strained, as he shifts on the bed, the fabric of his pants suddenly feeling too tight, too restrictive. His hand presses harder against his length, his breath hitching as the friction sends sparks of pleasure shooting through him.

You giggle, your eyes sparkling with a mix of nervousness and excitement. “You like what you see?”

“Like?” He shakes his head, his eyes glued to the screen. “I fucking love it.”

Your cheeks flush a deeper red, and you lean back a little, giving him an even better view of your body. His mouth goes dry as he takes in the sight of you, the way the red lace clings to your skin, the hint of cleavage peeking out from beneath your bra. He can see the way your chest rises and falls with each breath, the anticipation, the arousal clear in your eyes.

“Your turn,” you murmur, your voice barely more than a whisper, but it’s enough to send his heart racing.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. With one hand still holding his phone, he shifts back on the bed, his other hand moving to the waistband of his pants. His fingers fumble with the button, his hands shaking slightly as he pops it open, his eyes never leaving your face.

Your breath hitches as he unzips his pants, his erection straining against the fabric of his boxers. He pauses for a moment, his eyes flicking up to yours, seeking permission. When you nod, he slides his hand into his boxers, his breath coming out in a shaky exhale as he wraps his fingers around his length.

“Fuck…” The word slips out as he strokes himself slowly, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he forces them open again, needing to see your reaction. His voice trembles, laced with a mix of desire and restraint, each moan escaping his lips growing louder as he quickens his pace.

Your eyes are wide, your lips slightly parted as you watch him, your hand moving down towards your panties on their own accord, fingers brushing lightly over the fabric “Fuck, that's hot, Lando…”

He groans at the sound of his name on your lips, his boxers now pushed low enough to reveal his cock, hand moving faster, the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting through him. “Touch yourself for me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “Please.”

You bite your lip, waiting just a moment before you slip your hand beneath the waistband of your panties, a soft gasp escaping you as your fingers make contact. The sight of you, the way your body arches slightly, the soft, breathless sounds you make, is almost too much for him.

“Fuck, babe, you’re so fucking hot…” His voice is barely more than a growl as he watches you, his own hand moving faster, the pleasure building inside him, threatening to spill over.

“What would you do to me if I was right there?” you ask, your voice a breathless whisper.

His eyes darken, his grip tightening around himself. “I’d start by kissing you, slowly… working my way down your body.” His voice is rough, each word laced with longing. “I’d touch you everywhere, make you feel so good. Then I’d…” his words getting cut off by his own moan.

“Tell me,” you encourage, your own voice trembling with need.

“I’d bury my face between your legs, make you scream my name,” he groans, his strokes becoming more erratic as he imagines it, his mind filled with nothing but thoughts of you. “F-Fuck, I want you so bad.”

You moan at his words, your fingers moving faster as you picture it, your body aching for his touch. “Lando, I…”

“Keep going,” he whispers, his voice thick with desire. “Tell me what you’d do to me.”

“I’d touch you,” you breathe, your voice trembling as your fingers move in sync with his. “I’d wrap my fingers around you, just like you’re doing now… make you feel so good, Lan”

He whimpers at your words, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he imagines it, the sensation of your touch almost too real. “Fuck, Y/N, I need you…”

“Imagine it’s my hand, Lan” you whisper, your voice laced with seduction. “Imagine I’m right there with you…”

His moans grow louder, his hips bucking into his hand as he follows your words, his mind filled with nothing but thoughts of you. “I’m so close…”

“Me too,” you whisper, your breath hitching as you feel the pleasure building, your body trembling with anticipation.

“God, you’re amazing,” he pants, his voice filled with praise as he watches you, every movement driving him closer to the edge. “You’re so perfect… I want you so bad…”

Your voice is a breathless moan as you reach the brink, your body arching off the bed as the pleasure consumes you "F-Fuck, Lan, I'm coming"

“Fuck, baby, I’m right there with you…” His voice is ragged, his body tensing as he teeters on the edge, every muscle tightening in anticipation. You watch, breathless, as his hand moves faster, more desperately, his grip tightening around his length.

Then, with a strangled moan, he tips over the edge. His hips jerk, and his head falls back against the pillows as he cums, thick ropes of it spilling out and covering his abdomen. You can see the way his abs contract with each pulse, his hand still working himself through every last wave of pleasure, milking himself until he’s spent. His eyes remain locked on yours, his breathing heavy, a mixture of satisfaction and lingering desire in his gaze as you both ride the waves of your shared climax.

For a few moments, the only sound is your ragged breathing, both of you staring at each other through the screen, the intensity of what just happened hanging heavy in the air.

“Fuck…” He laughs breathlessly, his head falling back against the pillows as he runs a hand through his hair. “That was…”

“Amazing,” you finish for him, your own laughter bubbling up, your cheeks still flushed, your body still trembling slightly from the aftershocks. “Holy shit, Lando…”

“Yeah.” He grins, his heart still racing as he looks at you, the reality of what you just did slowly sinking in. “Are you… okay?”

You nod, your smile softening as you look at him. “Yeah, I’m okay. More than okay.”

His heart swells at your words, relief flooding through him. He’s about to say something else when you shift on the bed, the blanket slipping down a little further, giving him a glimpse of your bare shoulder.

“Lando,” you murmur, your eyes meeting his through the screen, a mischievous glint in your gaze. “If that was just a taste, I can’t wait to see what happens when we’re see each other again.”

The promise in your words sends a shiver down his spine, his mind racing at the thought of having you, really having you, right in front of him. 

“Fuck, Y/N, you have no idea what you’re doing to me…” His voice is a low whisper, his eyes still dark with desire.

“Maybe I have an idea,” you tease, your smile widening as you settle back against the pillows, your gaze never leaving his. “When I fly back to Monaco in a few days, maybe you should pick me up from the airport... and then we can do this again, but then in real life”

His heart skips a beat at your words, excitement and anticipation flooding through him. “You mean that?”

You nod, your smile softening, your eyes filled with a tenderness that makes his chest ache. “Yeah, I mean that. I want you, Lando. All of you.”

His breath catches, the sincerity in your voice, the way you’re looking at him, making his heart race. He knows, in that moment, that this isn’t just about sex, about fulfilling a desire that’s been simmering beneath the surface for years. It’s about more, so much more.

“Y/N… there’s something else I need to tell you,” he says, his voice steady but laced with emotion.

Your gaze softens, sensing the seriousness in his tone. “What is it, Lando?”

He hesitates for just a moment, gathering his thoughts before he continues. “I’ve been in love with you for so long. It’s not just about my text last night or about what we just did. I've been feeling like this for a while. It’s everything. Every time we’ve laughed together, every time you’ve supported me, every time I’ve seen you smile... I’ve been falling for you more and more.”

You feel your heart swell at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest. Finally ready to admit it out loud. “Lando... I’ve felt the same way. I’ve just been too scared to admit it.”

He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, relief washing over him. “You have no idea how happy that makes me. I’ve wanted to say something for so long, but I was afraid I’d ruin what we have.”

“You haven’t ruined anything,” you say softly. “If anything, you’ve made it better.”

A wide smile spreads across his face, his eyes shining with emotion. “I’ve never been so thankful for getting drunk.”

You laugh, the sound light and filled with joy. “Me neither, Lando. Me neither.”

There’s a moment of comfortable silence, both of you just taking in the reality of what’s been confessed.

“So… when I fly back to Monaco in a few days, maybe we could start something real?” you suggest, your voice hopeful.

“I’d like that,” he replies, his heart swelling with happiness. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Then it’s a plan,” you say, a smile tugging at your lips.

"God, I wish I could kiss you now" he whispered, a small hint of disappointment in his voice.

And with that, you both know that this is just the beginning of something truly special, something that’s been waiting to happen for far too long.

Sequel

Masterlist

[peachpitfics]

Wildest Dreams

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: Your Father has betrothed you to his eldest, most despicable friend. You confide in your closest friend, Benedict Bridgerton, that you wish your first time could be with somebody else, somebody you liked.

Length: 3.5k

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Content Warnings: Propositioning a friend, first time, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, orgasm.

a/n: Wildest Dreams is part i of iii ~ requested by anon here.

Bridgerton master list (tag list)

The blood drained from your face, your hands clasped together in clammy nervousness – your father had just told you that since you have failed to successfully find a husband within the first year on the marriage mart, he will be arranging a betrothal between yourself and Lord Roger Howard. Lord Howard was six and sixty, he was your father’s eldest friend. Every interaction you ever witnessed was filled with contempt and disrespect, especially with service staff. His words were often filled with bigotry and unfairness. You found him repulsive, his yellowing chipped teeth in his villainous smile. The way his poorly maintained fingernails curled at the ends. His white moustache stained into unsightly colours from cigar smoke. The thought of having to be near this man, be intimate with this man, nearly drove you toward deaths door.

Your knees shook, standing from your armchair in the sitting room, not speaking a word to your father as you exited. Scurrying up the stairs, throwing yourself onto your bed, you felt your heart was about to burst out of your chest. Tears streamed down your face, you did your best to suck in deep breaths, but panic continued to wash over you. There was nothing you could do to save yourself from this fate. There had been some suitors interested in you, but you had chosen to wait, to see if the one person you had wanted would make himself available to you. Now it was too late, those suitors had moved on with other young ladies, and the man you wanted was nowhere to be seen.

Your lady’s maid knocked meekly on the door, having come to prepare you for this evening’s ball. The Queen would be there, and you knew she would be disappointed in this match your father had forced upon you, not that that would help you.

“Shall we get the family jewels out miss? I hear it is to be quite an exciting night” You could tell she was putting it on, trying to sound excited. It seemed to come off as patronizing instead.

“Whatever you should think is appropriate” You tried to keep your feelings to yourself, but the streaks through your makeup sold you out at first glance. You spent the rest of your preparation in silence, usually the two of you indulged in a little gossip, it was supposed to be fun.

All evening you hid behind larger groups, behind servers carrying trays of champagne, doing your best to ensure the inevitable could not happen. Finally, considerably late in the evening, your closest friend deigned to arrive. Almost surging across the dance floor and into Benedict’s side, you linked arms and impishly whisked him out through the conservatory doors.

“Miss Y/n” Benedict exclaimed, “What is the meaning of this?”.

You breathed heavily, ducking, and weaving through overgrown plants and florals. You scouted each entrance, paranoia clinging to your side like a child in a sack race.

“My father has committed a most heinous act” You spill to Benedict, there is only concern etched on his face, “I am to be married to Lord Howard”. Your breath never steadied, sweat beaded where your forehead met your hair line. There was that panic you remembered so fondly, only hypervigilance had eliminated that feeling from the centre of your chest.

“Oh lord,” Benedict’s mouth hung open, utterly flabbergasted, “I cannot believe he would do that to you” Both of his hands found their way to your shoulders in compassion.

“And yet he has. My own father has bargained me away to some elder beast! There is nothing I can do to stop it” Your hands ran through your hair, untangling one of the twists.

Benedict did not know what to say, all he could do was lurch forward and take you into his arms. His strong arms reached around you, pulling you tight. The sound of his steady breath and rhythmic heartbeat calmed you quickly.

“When I was a little girl, I wished on a falling star I would find someone who loved me as their equal. I now wish for that same thing on this very night. To think that I have wasted my life dreaming about love, finding someone like me, with the same interests, the same age as me even!” You thought aloud. Benedict was always someone you could tell your innermost thoughts to, he never judged you once, and he was the kindest of listeners.

Benedict Bridgerton also knew exactly who you were dreaming about – it was him. You had been friends for several years, and it had always been obvious to anyone with sight, that you and Ben were infatuated with each other. But Benedict was young, and impulsive, unlikely to marry at this time.

“I do not want to spend my life with that old simpleton! I want to experience life and love!” You cried out, “My elder sister divulged what it is married couples do on their wedding night – I do not want that with him! I cannot live my life without having ever experienced the touch of a man who cares for me!” Your cries turned into whispers; whimpers scattered throughout.

He held you close to him, making a caring swishing sound, it kind of sounded like the ocean. Benedict sure knew how to comfort you when you were in need.

“Y/N! Where are you?!” Your father’s voice echoed off the glass walls, sending you into a frenzy, quickly separating from Benedict, dabbing your cheeks with a handkerchief.

“Yes father?” You responded.

“Lord Howard is here with me. There is something he would like to say to you” Your father called. Benedict hid low amongst the broad-leafed plants, the darkness of the conservatory shading him. You appeared from the shadows without explanation, not that your father was seeking one. Lord Howard stood hunched next to your father, who was 20 years his junior. It appeared as though he bowed, but it was hard for you to discern.

“M…m…miss Y/n?” He stuttered, struggling to see through the spectacles at the end of his nose, “There is a question I must ask you. With the permission of your father, I am here to ask for your hand in marriage” Spittle flew from his mouth in between sharp consonants. Dread flooded your body, you felt like you were being submerged in a pool of water, the tears in your eyes, simply the only way for the water to escape.

There was animosity in your father’s gaze, warning you there was simply one answer to the question asked. Taking in a deep breath, “Yes, Lord Howard, I will accept” You murmured. Lord Howard did not look pleased, he did not appear bothered either, he simply nodded once and turned about, marching back to the main ballroom. You wondered if this was what your marriage was going to be like? Would he ignore your existence and leave you to your own life if you produced an heir? You could not ascertain whether this was a good thing or not.

Benedict hung his head, having watched this entire exchange from the shadows. There was an element of guilt on his part, he blamed himself, unable to give you what you wanted in time to save you. When your father had left you standing still, tears staining your dress, Benedict slid out from the darkness.

“I think I am going to ask the footman to take me home… I only have so much time before my time is not mine any longer” You lower lip trembled; the peaceful silence of the conservatory disturbed by the soft sounds of sobs.

“Y/n,” Benedict muttered, his hand running down your upper arm. Electricity connected your flesh in a zap, your breath caught in your chest as his skin joined with yours. His tender hands grazed yours, tickling the palm of your hand.

“Benedict” You shook your head, moving to take your hand away before he closed his around it. His tongue flicked over his lips several times as he contemplated what he had to say. Sometimes you heard the other young ladies tell stories about Benedict, you never knew if they were true. They spoke of how he was finest of the Bridgerton brothers, they also spoke of his rakish tendencies, however mostly in a jealous fashion.

The forecast in Benedict’s eyes swiftly shifted from clear blue to a stormy grey. You had not noticed how tall he was before, looming over you like a dark cloud. His face illustrated apathetic gloom, his hand boring you into him, like he was the eye of the storm.

“There is something I must speak with you about, in private” Benedict rolled his tongue aggressively on his teeth as he spoke. Everything about his demeanor was confusing, you felt strangely like prey, wondering why it felt good. Benedict snuck out the conservatory door, your hands clutched together while he led you to his carriage, asking his footmen to make way for the Bridgerton house.

“What is this about Benedict?” You asked as soon as the door was secure and the carriage moving.

“Y/n, please give me a moment and I will explain everything. I do not know if I have a solution to your problem, but I may be able to offer a compromise. Something I would only do for you, if you asked, because I care about you so deeply” Benedict paused, this intense look of thoughtful worry about him, “If you would be agreeable, I would like to suggest that I… bed you for the first time” Benedicts voice was low and resounding.

Your lips parted abashedly, your cheeks flushed pink, blinking became uncontrollable. All you could do was sit completely still, astronomically stunned by what Benedict had proposed. You understood that for whatever reason, Benedict could not give you everything you wanted, but he was offering you something. He was offering you an experience you may never have gotten to have otherwise, a chance to feel loved and wanted in intimate affection with another person.

“Say something, anything, please. I cannot stand this silence” Benedict rubbed his temples after a few minutes. His eyes were still dark with longing, he looked over with you a deviating sense of ownership.

“You would do that for me?” You entreated, hands shaking so hard you nearly sat on them to make it stop.

Benedict nodded surely across from you, the carriage pulling up at the Bridgerton house. Your eyes locked, the carriage completely still and silent, you took a moment to consider the ramifications of your choice. Ben’s posture was resolute, his gaze expansive, eagerly waiting for your reply.

“Yes” You swallowed hard, Benedict snatching your hand from your lap and dragging you from the carriage, running up the walk and into the house. You made short work of the very many stairs on the way up to his bedroom, sure that nobody could have seen you, as you ran that fast.

Blood rushing around your body, you stood just inside Benedict’s door, trying desperately to catch your breath. Benedict shuffled about the room, lighting a few candles, closing the windows for the evening. He looked back at you, having already stripped into your underclothes while his back was turned. A most shameful lust driven smile sketched lightly onto his face, he made the long voyage acrost the bedroom to stand a foot or two in front of you.

“Thank you for doing me this favor. I will owe you always” You remarked, your eyes dancing figure eights on the lush carpet squishing under your wiggling toes.

Benedict’s shoulders were more relaxed than you had ever seen them, his posture always just so. Strands of hair bled onto his sticky forehead, dark eyebrows brewing overhead transfixed eyes. That charming smile, filled with foolishness, had not been seen since leaving the ball – this was something so chronically serious to him. He effortlessly tugged at his maroon cravat, casting it to the floor, his proud neck craning to get another glimpse of you from another angle. His throat bobbed when he stepped closer again, just one more step. Fiddling with his waistcoat buttons ardently, watching the frustration set into your eyes, Benedict finally shed his coat and pitched it across the room, knocking over something unbreakable in the corner. It did not steal his gaze; his eyes were set on you. Benedict lifted his suspenders off his shoulders, allowing them to dangle by his hips, the chest of his white, silk undershirt gaping open. Your teeth instinctually bit into your lower lip at the slightest sight of skin you had not ever seen before. The corner of Benedicts mouth upturned smugly, his lips rolling together as his breath became audible. Standing just one foot apart, the tension between you was palpable. You wondered if someone had struck a match, might the room simply explode, there seemed to be so much chemistry between the two of you.

“Please, continue” Your hands pressed to your stomach, you watched as Benedict unlaced his boots, one foot at a time on the stool at the end of his bed. His blistering eye bore into you even still. Making his way back to you, still at hardly an arm’s length, his brawny arms crossed his body to pull his undershirt off over his head.

You swooned audibly, almost gasping seeing the entirety of his torso bare for the first time. Your lips wet, your eyes unblinking, Benedict smiled cheekily, knowing the effect he had on you. His hands moved past his navel, your eyes following, to the button atop his breeches. Benedict made quick work of his trousers, having teased you plenty. Your back straightened, your gob smacked jaw snapped shut at the sight of his naked body.

Benedicts tongue flicked over his teeth, “Would you like me to redress, y/n?” He badgered, pretending to reach for his shirt on the floor. You careened forward, lessening the space between you to essentially nothing.

“I do not know what to do, not truly” You admitted, feeling yourself choking on nothing. Benedict reached out to your hands, taking them in his, placing them on his chest. Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head at the feeling of his light chest hair beneath your fingers. His sculpted pectoral muscles and taut stomach, a trail of dark hair leading you downwards made you feel ravenous for him. He looked at you as you looked at him, eyes filled with desire, faces pink in the candlelight. Benedict leaned in to kiss you, pulling away left at the last second to place a single kiss on your neck.

“You. Are. Wicked” Your face flitted over his, grazing your noses and lips together in potential kisses. Benedict leaned into you, his kiss soft, warm, and breathless. You gasped at the first separation, taking in hasty breaths before crashing back into each other. Everything you were doing felt completely wrong, reprehensible – but with a kiss as intoxicating as Benedict Bridgerton’s, you were afraid not even heaven could help you.

Your hands slipped into his thick, dark hair, pulling him down and into you, wrapping your arms around his neck and climbing up onto him. His hands rested under your thighs, carrying you toward his bed, you could feel his hardness pressing against you. 

This was not what you had been expecting, this was no impish boy. Everything about his movements was intentional, well-practiced. His hot, amorous kiss; the way his tongue slipped thankfully over yours, how his teeth greedily nipped at your auspicious bottom lip. His hands moved passionately across your back, his long kisses surprisingly hard on your neck, laying you down on the pile of bedding. He frantically shoved it off the bed, throwing pillows, knocking himself in the face once or twice. You laughed together, slow sizzling tongues dancing as one as Benedict removed your floor length under gown.

Benedict knelt above you on the bed, gently stroking himself, looking down on you. There was that dark cloud you had noticed earlier.

“I want you to enjoy me” Benedict rumbled, making you a promise. You did not yet understand, but you would. Taking his finger, Benedict dipped it into your mouth, bringing it to your nipple, rolling it between his finger and thumb at a glacial pace. His touch was peculiarly possessive, his lips rested around your other nipple now, sloppily dragging his tongue around in spontaneous circles. Big open-mouthed kisses surrounded your breasts, your shock and surprise manifesting in noiseless writhing.

Benedict positioned himself between your legs, lying down forcing your legs apart. Wanting to snap your legs shut, you refrained, trusting Benedict with your life. His breath was agonizingly warm on your inner thigh, his lips parted and gliding up from your knee. Benedict dotted small, chaste kisses along your hips – you deduced he was headed for the pinnacle of your thighs, a place you had never felt burn and ache quite like this.

His tongue slid gently up the slit of your pussy, you breath shuddered, his harmless laps amazed you with every movement. Eye lids fluttering, breathy moans filling the room, Benedict’s graceful tongue swirling your clitoris in curious patterns, drinking in your wetness as though you were a drug to him. Your fingers crawled down into his hair, your hips bucking toward his retreating tongue, you squealed lowly for more.

“Are you quite alright?” Benedict groaned into you, the vibrations of his voice set you on edge, your toes clenching in different ways.

“I do not know what you are doing, but I would like for you to keep doing it” You moaned intermittently, between gasps as his tongue flicked roguishly at your clitoris.

Benedict spread your legs wide and high, taking his finger and resting it at your entrance. He tediously sunk his finger inside you, curling up, making you yelp out in astonishment. Finding a steady pace, his finger already snug inside you, Benedict began at you again, never failing to find exactly the spot he was looking for. His alteration of speed and pressure backed you onto a cliff face, body incandescent and damned to revelry. Pressing his fingers into you rhythmically, Benedict pushed you over the edge, the sensation of falling and flying all erupting at once as you moaned and yelped uncontrollably. In the aftermath of your pleasure, you watched Benedicts eyes, his head still clutched between your legs gently sliding his tongue over you, his charming, sexy smile reflected in his eyes.

Slowing rising to his knees, Ben positioned your legs higher, resting your calves on his shoulders. Taking his cock in his hand, his pressed his tip against your wet skin. Your skin erupted in a tingling sensation, unbridled attraction and hunger liquefying your brain.

You looked up at Benedict in clear understanding, nodding gently, your eyes focusing on the powerful look of restrained urgency on Benedict’s face. He pushed forward smoothly, eliciting a groan from each of you, not even pressed to the hilt yet.

When Benedict filled your pussy fully, it felt like being winded. Panting like a dog under him, Benedict stilled himself, noticing how full and tight you felt, his cock twitching with pleasure. Benedict moved slowly at first, long unbroken strides forward, thrusting into you. Every drive forward, simultaneously blissful, and hot, curving to pound into that sensitive spot just inside you. While every drawback, was likened to slow-motion, devastating deprivation. Ceaseless, savage moans made Benedict grin above you, thrusting harder, wholly triumphant in setting you alight. You knew you would burn for him for the rest of your life.

“Make that sound for me again” Benedict grunted sinisterly, thrusting back into you brutally, forcing that loud intonation from you again.

Your fingers clawed at his back, your hips moving with his in most divine unison. Benedicts teeth grazed your ear, your breathing syncing in ceremonious adoration; his momentum increased, driving into you with new eagerness. Your nails buried in his plump behind, pulling Benedict tighter into you. With propulsive sureness Benedict plunged into you one last time, his cock twitching inside you to his irrevocable release. Never had you felt so full before, his face exquisite above you, leaning down to a soulful kiss.

“I’m proud of you, taking me like that” Benedict panted, taking a second before withdrawing and rolling next to you. He lay on the flat of his back, chasing his breath, his heart thumping through his chest, beating so hard you could almost hear it. His words made you blush, hiding your face in your hands, his seed leaking out of you onto the linen.

“It is not always going to be the same, is it?” You pondered aloud, staring at the detailing on the ceiling above you.

“I will not lie, y/n darling, I do not think every single instance will be the same” Benedict reached over, gently slapping your thigh in solidarity.

“That is disappointing to hear” You sighed dramatically.

Benedict chuckled sweetly, “Perhaps at his age, he will not have the capacity to complete more than the marital act”. You knew he was joking, trying to lift your spirits, but you genuinely hoped that might be true. Other worries began to plague your mind, worries of potential children. What if you were unable to conceive his heir due to his age?

You rolled onto your side, looking into Benedict’s clear, sky-blue eyes, “There may be another favour I ask of you, dear friend”. Benedict's eyes widened curiously, prepared to do most anything for you.

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[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

Oral Arguments

Pairing: Husband!Bucky x Female!Doctor!Reader

Word Count: 2,072

Warnings: oral sex

A/N: I’m not usually a fan of the Y/N and Y/L/N thing, but needs must. Sorry, I just had to vent about this personal issue. Thank you Daisy @firefly-graphics for this banner!

It was late when you finally crawled into bed. Bucky was already there, for once. 

“Hey, doll!”

“That’s Doctor Y/L/N to you, buddy,” you poked him angrily in the chest.  “Not Mrs. Bucky Barnes!”

Bucky’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, shocked by your sudden outburst. He had no chance to make a rebuttal as you continued with your rant.

“Just because I’m a woman, it doesn’t make me any less of a doctor… or professional, for that matter,” you grumbled.

“Of course it doesn’t.”

You continued without listening to his response. “I hate that parents say ‘tell the lady what’s wrong’ but with male doctors it’s ‘tell the doctor’.”

Even though he longed to interrupt with words of comfort, Bucky suspected that you wouldn’t take very kindly to it at this particular moment in time. 

“I’m sick of being known as somebody’s appendage. I worked my ass off to get my degree and to hold the position I do now and it’s infuriating that it means nothing.”

You barely noticed the look of shock and worry on Bucky’s face as you vented your frustrations.

“This is your fault, that’s what it is!” You turned to him and poked him in the chest with your index finger.

“M-my fault?” Bucky asked, eyes widening with surprise.

“Yeah! You had to go and make me fall in love with you and marry you!” you pouted. 

“Oh, well then I guess I’m guilty as charged. I don’t regret it,” Bucky smiled, relief washing over him.

“Well now it’s all Mrs. Barnes this, Mrs. Barnes that. I mean these are the same people who once called me Dr. Y/L/N. Just because I’m married I suddenly lose my title. It’s not fair. I hate that I have to work twice as hard to prove myself of being capable.”

“I know, doll.”

“It’s exhausting.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine.”

Suddenly you felt incredibly dejected and your shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry… for yelling. I shouldn’t have.”

“You have every right to get the respect you deserve.” Bucky out his large hands on your arms, gently rubbing them.

“You know I love being your wife. I wouldn’t have it any other way. But not I’m just-”

“My wife?”

You sighed, feeling deflated and completely out of steam.

“I know just the thing!” Bucky’s lips twitched with mischief. “Turn around.”

You did as he asked and Bucky shuffled up behind you, his long thick fingers massaging the knots from your shoulder blades, making you moan in pleasure, and sending pulses of warmth through your neurons. You could feel the knots of tension ebb away with the kneading of his strong digits. Slowly, his touch softened to feather light brushes across your bare shoulders.

The tip of Bucky’s nose tickled your neck, taking in your scent: jasmine and watery cyclamen shampoo. His warm breath sent shivers down your arms as he traced the contour of your neck; lips followed in suit, sweeping the skin on the nape. Bucky moved closer, his chest flush against your back as he nibbled at the helix of your ear, teeth gently scraping your skin.

“Buck, that tickles,” you giggled and turned to face him.

Tilting your face up to meet his eyes, you met his gentle soft look of adoration. You could feel his love and devotion and an almost schoolgirl blush rose to your cheeks.

“Buck, I-” you opened your mouth to thank him, but he silenced you gently with a tap of his finger to your upper lip.

“Shhh, you deserve nothing but the best.”

He traced the outline of your lips, grazing the grooves first with his forefinger, but as you closed your eyes to enjoy the sweet sensation, the texture of his contact changed. Tantalizingly, his lips danced the tango with yours, you breathed in the scent of scotch, and knew that he had indulged in a nightcap before you had rather obtrusively invaded his peaceful evening. Tilting your head back and lifting your jaw, you reached forward longingly, craving the taste of his tongue, his own unique twist of coffee and whiskey. Except that his mouth was just out of reach, guarded by this handsome nose. Every step you took to claim his lips was countered gracefully with the nuzzle of his nose against yours. Unable to satisfy your craving, you opened your eyes to glare into those sapphire orbs, which you knew would stoke the fire that was already raging inside of you. His eyes were wide open, pupils dilated, waiting to meet your gaze, filled with mirth and lust.

“You know it drives me nuts when you tease me like this.”

His lips turned upwards into a smirk at your words, but he remained frustratingly silent, so unlike your smooth-talking husband who always had an opinion, always something to say.

Instead, his thumb stroked the notch of your clavicle tenderly, his fingers working their way across your shoulder, slipping off the silky strap of your chemise. For every motion his fingers made, his eyes never left yours, his attention never waning, even when they brushed your nipple, making you gasp and lean back into his chest. His hand lingered on your bosom, as the other explored the remainder of your body, roaming over your arm, across your stomach, stroking your thighs. Up and down, his hand glided over your frame, every caress did nothing but ignite an insatiable yearning, a longing to be filled.

Each seductive slide, the occasional tantalizing twirl, he edged closer to satisfying your ever increasing desire but never quite giving you the relief you craved. Releasing you from his embrace, Bucky lowered you down onto the pillows behind you, stopping for a moment, only to gently brush the stray strand of hair from your face and give you an adoring smile before returning to his ministrations. His mouth left a blazing trail of kisses from your jaw, down your chest and belly, stopping short of giving you any real pleasure, only adding fuel to the tempestuous flame that raged at your core.

The base of his palm nestled itself on your pubic symphysis as comfortably as though it was made to be there. The pressure applied by his digits made you whimper longingly, each push at the fabric of your underwear made you buck your hips wantonly with the smallest of hopes that he would give you the release you desired. Keeping his hand hovering over the wetness permeating your panties, he placed a hand between your thighs, pulling them apart, splaying your legs, making a great show of his microscopic examination of your personal anatomy.

Finally you could no longer take the agonizing wait for your own gratification, the words burst from your mouth without thought or control, “Bucky please, could you just fuck me already?”

“Gladly,” he growled, although you could barely hear him over the blood coursing through your vessels.

Bucky was rarely one to rush into things headlong, rarely. Pushing aside the small strip of material covering your dripping slit, he slid his fingers between your folds, sending a burst of ecstacy spiraling through to your fingertips. Ever so slowly he parted your lips, lowering himself between them. 

You held your breath in anticipation of what you knew was coming, his eyes told you exactly what he intended. Despite the promise of pleasure, you weren’t prepared for the electrifying sensation that burst through you as Bucky’s tongue touched your clit. This was only the first of a series of impulses, delightful, delicious, delectable, dazzling, delirious! They fired through your nervous system, sending waves of euphoria to every fiber of your being. Twirling, flicking, sucking, he devoured you with fervor. Within minutes you felt dangerously close to coming undone, your body undulated with the rhythm of his tongue. It was a struggle to keep your eyes on him, your hands clutched at the sheets; he was certainly enjoying watching you unravel at the seams. 

Just as you thought you couldn’t stand it anymore, Bucky made you cry out as he slipped two fingers inside you, flexing them slightly into the shape of a hook as he dragged them in and out of your leaking center. The thrusts weren’t hard, neither were they fast, just paced, the same as the stroke of his tongue. Together they massaged the small bundle of nerves to reach your zenith, making you convulse in bliss as your orgasm finally hit, like a tidal wave, strong with its first impact but spreading far and wide, filling every nook and every cranny in its fluidity.  He continued to milk you through your climax, until the tide ebbed away, leaving you lying on the beach of paradise.

Needless to say, he looked rather proud of himself, as he rose from his position. Bucky pulled back the scrunched up material of your lacy garment, smoothing away the creases before leaving a chaste kiss on your silk covered lips.

“One of those would be nice up here, too,” you smiled, pointing at your mouth. 

Still sat between your open legs, Bucky leaned over to indulge you in a real kiss. And even as his tongue worked its magic in a whole new way, you became aware of his throbbing appendage as it pressed against you, begging for attention.

“Buck, do you want me to take care of that for you?” you breathed out between kisses.

He finally spoke, “no, it’s fine. Today is about you.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind… in fact, I want to.”

“It’s ok, I got this,” he rose to go to the bathroom.

“Buck!” you called after him, propping yourself up on your elbows. “Wait!”

He turned to look at you expectantly.

“Stay?” you asked hopefully, then hesitantly, “if you don’t mind, I- I’d like to watch.”

His eyes darkened. “Really?”

You patted at the space between your legs. “Only if you want to.”

Bucky crawled back to the space he had not long evacuated and it occurred to you that he suddenly looked a little unsure of himself. This wasn’t something either of you had done previously.

“You probably need to remove your pants to deal with that,” you nodded at the bulge in his pants that seemed to be ever increasing.”

“Doctor’s orders?”

“I recommend removal for thorough examination,” you sat up, curled your legs beneath you and leaned closer for a view.

The tables had turned and now your husband was the one sitting exposed between your legs. He stood to attention before your eyes, hard and erect, with a glisten at the head which told you he was ready for action. The urge to reach out and stroke him was strong, but you held your hands away, as he had asked. Your breath came hard and fast as you watched Bucky work his hand up and down his length. 

Mesmerized, you found it impossible to tear your eyes away from the way Bucky’s fingers slid over the ridges of his erection, the well defined grooves that frequently drove you crazy when he pushed inside you. Intently you watched, that was until you felt Bucky’s eyes boring into you. Your gaze snapped up to meet his. The smirk on his lips was bigger than ever and for the first time all evening, you felt a blush creep into your already flushed cheeks, the garnacha rosé turning a merlot red. You bit your lip and smiled shyly. It was Bucky who broke eye contact, as his eyes rolled back and his eyelids fluttered furiously.

“Doll, pass me a condom- quickly.” 

“Why?”

“Easier clean up,” he muttered breathlessly. 

“I have a better idea,” you pointed at your mouth. 

There was no time for objections or closing arguments, the verdict was in. Panting slightly, he nodded and you nimbly scooted around to place your mouth at his tip, in time to see him shudder and catch the eruption of his sweet silvery elixir. Bucky did his best to keep his gaze glued to yours, as you swallowed the luscious nectar of his rapture, giving his tip a quick but unauthorized kiss. He watched as you withdrew your lips, stained with succulent drops of milky paradise.

Both of you lay back on the pile of pillows behind you, much more relaxed than you had been before.

“Buck?” you called tentatively.

“Mmmm?” he hummed in response.

“You can call me Mrs. Barnes whenever you like.”

[loving-barnes]

LOGAN HOWLETT - BROKEN & MENDED

A/N: A new one-shot that I tried to write. It's okay, I guess. So here you go. Also, the title sucks, but... whatever.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant female reader

Featuring: Avengers, Ex!Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warning: angst, fluff, implied smut?

Please, do not read if you are under 18. This story has sexual scenes.

Words: 3400+

Important note: I know Wolverine is like 160cm but… I forgot about tha that so, he’s a tall MF. (They kinda fucked that up in some of the movies, so whatever.) So Hugh Jackman!Wolverine

FULL MASTERLIST | LOGAN HOWLETT MASTERLIST

LOGAN HOWLETT - BROKEN & MENDED

It felt like a dagger went through her heart. Her eyes watched her boyfriend and her best friend kissing in the kitchen. They didn’t know Y/N was there. It seemed that they didn’t care someone would be able to see them. She watched it all with her two eyes. The two people she trusted the most in the entire world broke her heart. How long was this happening? Why was this happening?

The vomit threatened to escape her throat. She was sick to her stomach from the betrayal. Shaking her head, Y/N silently walked away from the scene, heading back to the room she shared with Bucky. 

When her eyes landed on the messy bed, she shared with him daily, her stomach flipped. She felt nauseous like never before. How often did he bring Natasha to bed while she was away on a mission? Her feet dragged her to the bathroom, where she ended up vomiting into the toilet. 

Y/N stayed on the bathroom floor for another hour, thinking about her next steps. There was no point in crying over spilt milk. Bucky had decided to find peace in other girl’s arms. He had decided to break Y/N’s heart. 

Sighing, she slowly got up, washed her face and rinsed her mouth. And then it hit her. How many people knew about this affair? Of course, Steve knew. He had to. He was Bucky’s best friend. Hell, even Sam had to know something. 

She fished out a phone from her jeans and texted Tony. He, of all people, would be able to understand her. Once he agreed to see her, she washed her mouth one more time and left for the lab. As expected, Tony was tinkering on one of his suits. There was a big cup of cold coffee on the table that he didn’t drink.

“What’s up, Y/L/N,” Tony asked when he noticed Y/N in the lab. He immediately noticed her body language. Something was off. “What’s going on?” 

She sat in an office chair, eyes scanning all the tools scattered around the place. “I need you to do something for me - no questions asked.” 

His eyes captured hers, frowning. “Oh no, you can’t pull that card on me. What’s going on? What happened?” 

No wonder Y/N wanted a ‘no questions asked’. A few months ago, Tony called Y/N to get him from a club. He was drunk, covered in vomit and upset about something. Y/N didn’t question it. She drove him to the tower, got him to bed, and they never spoke about it again. 

Y/N took a deep breath, her lips quivering. She wanted to scream, cry and throw a tantrum like a child. Her heart was breaking some more. “I’m resigning.”

“What?!” Tony jumped on his feet. That statement woke him up. “What do you mean, Y/N? Does Barnes know about that? Are you two planning something? Are you pregnant?” 

She shook her head. Damn, that last question got her even more. When did she start to feel the want to have kids with him? “He doesn’t know anything. I need you to accept my resignation and let me silently leave as soon as possible,” she said. “Please.”

Tony wasn’t a fool. He could see the pain in her eyes, how her lips trembled and how she tried to hold it together. Tony was able to put two and two together. Something happened between them - it was over. “Shit,” he shook his head in disbelief. “Holy shit.” 

“Please, Tony,” she raised a hand into the air. “I have to do this. If he can’t come clean, I can leave without a word. Two can play this game.” 

“But,” he closed the distance and put his hands on the woman’s shoulders. “You can’t leave the Avengers. You are like the little sister I never had. I can kick Barnes’s ass again if you’d like. Say the word and I will detach that damn arm from him.” 

Y/N chuckled. It was hard to hold it together and not cry in front of Tony. “We can stay in touch, Stark. Please, don’t make me stay. My heart is broken, shattered into a million pieces. I won’t be able to look them in the eyes-”

“Them?” he interrupted her. “Who’s the woman?” 

A tear finally escaped Y/N’s eye. “Natasha,” she whispered. 

Tony’s fists clenched. He wanted to curse out loud and throw something into a wall. “I’m sorry,” was all he said to her. “I’m sorry things went to shit like this. Holy fuck, Natasha and Barnes? What the fuck?” 

As the dam broke, Tony caught her in his tight embrace and let Y/N cry it out. He wouldn’t do it for anyone but her. As Tony said, Y/N was like his little sister whom he needed to protect. He pushed her away a little to look into her eyes. The pain in them was breaking Tony’s heart.

“Is there anything you need to take?” he asked. “Any photos or personal belongings?”

Y/N thought about it. All the photos she had were with Bucky, Natasha or the team. She didn’t have any family outside the Avengers. Everything she owned had been provided for her. 

“No,” she said. 

Tony sighed, nodding. “Alright.” He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and took out a wallet. He gave her a black card. “Take it.”

“What? Tony, no, I can’t,” she shook her head. 

“Shut up, Y/N,” he frowned at her. “Take the damn card. I have twenty more. Get yourself a hotel, buy new clothes or a car - whatever the fuck you want. Text me from a new number once you settled down. I want to stay in contact with you even when you are on the other side of the world.” 

“Oh, Tony.” 

“I’ll let you know how the pandemonium went once they realise you are gone,” he chuckled at that thought. “Are you sure about this, Y/N?” he had to ask.

“I don’t owe Bucky anything - not even a stupid explanation. He decided to cheat behind my back with my best friend. God knows how long this has been going on for. I wouldn’t be surprised if Steve and Sam knew about this. I don’t trust any of them anymore, Tony. I was hurt many times before. This is a new level of pain I’ve never felt before. I thought he was it, you know? And look how it ended.” 

“I want to say I understand. However, I don’t,” said Tony. “I’ll miss you, kid.” 

. . .

Bucky had a phone pressed to his ear. He was walking around the lounge room like a lion in a cage. He cursed under his nose and redialed Y/N’s number. Steve, Sam and Tony walked into the lounge room, chatting. “Has anyone seen Y/N?” Bucky asked them. “I can’t get hold of her.” 

“Have you checked your room?” Sam asked and sat on the couch. He put his feet up on the coffee table. “Or she’s with Natasha.” 

“I’ve asked Nat. She hasn’t seen her the whole day,” said Bucky, frowning. He tried to call her again. “She’s not responding to texts. Where the hell is she? Did she go on a solo mission?” 

“I don’t know anything about it,” Steve shrugged.

Tony crossed arms over his chest. “She left,” he announced. 

All eyes turned to him. “What?” Steve asked. “What do you mean by that? Did Fury give her a solo mission?” 

“She left,” Tony repeated sternly. Bucky approached the man, confused. “Barnes, come on, let’s not play this game. You think the woman wouldn’t notice?” 

“What the fuck are you talking about, Stark?” Bucky spat. “Fuck, Stark, talk. Where the hell is Y/N?”

“Y/N found out about you and Natasha.” Tony’s fists clenched. He wanted to punch Barnes into his face. “How the fuck could you do that to her, Barnes? You didn’t have the balls to tell her the truth, to talk to her. And now, because you betrayed her, she left the tower - the team.” 

Steve turned to Bucky, shocked by that revelation. “You and Natasha?” he gasped. “When?” 

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know, Rogers,” Tony scoffed.

“Shit,” Sam commented. “What the fuck, dude?”

Bucky didn’t know what to say first. “When she’ll be back?” 

Tony had to laugh. “You think she’s coming back? Come on, Barnes. You broke her heart. You cheated on her with her best friend. She’s never coming back. She left because of you. Also,” he turned to the Captain and the Falcon. “She thinks you two know about the affair.” 

Sam jumped up on his feet, visibly pissed. “Whoa,” he glared at Barnes. “I don’t know anything about Barnes fucking Romanoff. What the fuck, Bucky? How could you do that to the best woman you could have ever had?” 

“Sam, it’s not that simple-”

“The fuck it is,” Sam yelled at him. “I can’t believe you did that,” he said. “I’m so angry at you.”

“Sam. I… It’s…”

“Go fuck yourself, Barnes,” he punched Bucky into his shoulder and left the lounge room. 

Bucky sighed, defeated. When he looked up at Steve, he could see the disappointment in his eyes. 

Tony had to chuckle. “This is what happens when you think with your dick and not with your head and heart. This is your own doing.”  

. . .

A FEW YEARS LATER

It was a big day. Tony Stark threw a massive engagement party for him and Pepper. He finally had the guts to ask the woman of his dreams to marry her. 

He invited over a hundred people. He wanted to celebrate his beautiful fianceé, their love and happiness. Or in other words, another reason why to throw a party. Also, this was the perfect opportunity to see Y/N again. 

It was almost two years since she left the team. No one knew anything about her except Tony and Pepper. They kept in touch with her the whole time. The couple knew about her new life, new role and more importantly new love. And now, they invited her to celebrate their engagement. Her new man was also invited.

It was supposed to be a big dinner with music and drinks. Everyone was there - the whole Avengers team, some SHIELD agents and even politicians who had a good relationship with the happy couple. And yet, Tony waited for his favourite person to arrive. 

He was standing by the bar, nursing a drink. Tony’s eyes wandered around the place, trying to glimpse Y/N in the crowd. The dinner was about to start, and she still wasn’t there. A hand appeared on his shoulder, striking it lovingly. “Don’t worry. She’ll be here soon,” Pepper said to his ear. “She promised to come.”

He was ready to comment on it when his eyes noticed Y/N walk through the entrance, all dressed up and with a smile plastered over her face. A tall, muscular man stood behind her, helping her with her coat. Tony smiled, glad that Y/N had arrived with her new boyfriend. Tony liked that guy a lot. Same humour, both liked the taste of whisky and they dated amazing women. 

“See, she’s here,” said Pepper with a smile. She raised a hand, waving to the couple. 

“Are you sure about this?” Y/N heard her boyfriend’s voice close to her ear. “You don’t have to do anythin’ that makes you uncomfortable, baby.” 

She turned to him, fixing his black suit. The way Logan was staring at her made her knees weak. His eyes were hungry, she was sure of it. When he saw the dress on her, he had to hold himself back. “I know, Lo’. I’m happy you’ve decided to come with me and be my plus one. Tony likes you a lot, to be honest,” she giggled. “Also, I’m done with my past and am focused on my present, with you.” 

He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer. He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Come on, Y/N. Your friends are waiting. Nervous?” 

“A little bit,” she had to admit. 

Logan held her hand proudly. He tried to intimidate people with his glare. Y/N was surprised when she found him dressed in a fancy suit. Yes, it was all black - like he wanted. But damn, he looked sexy. 

Together, they walked to Tony and Pepper, greeting them. Y/N hugged them both, while Logan shook hands with Tony and nodded towards Pepper. 

“Congratulations, you two,” Y/N said with a smile. “You are finally doing it. I’m so proud of you, Tony. You are growing up,” she teased him. 

“How are you holding up?” Pepper asked gently. “How are the kids?” her eyes moved to Logan. 

“It’s not easy to teach young mutants,” Logan replied. “They can be a handful, ya know? But they love Y/N.” 

Y/N wrapped an arm around Logan’s waist, smiling. “They like all of us. All of them are grateful to have a place to live and feel safe. And, to answer your question, I’m doing good. Am I nervous? Yes. Am I happy? Also yes.” 

“I can’t believe you became a teacher in a mutant school,” Tony shook his head in disbelief. “Is it cool that you two are together?” he pointed between the couple. “Isn’t there any strict policy that you cannot date an old man?” he joked. 

Logan glared at him. “Hilarious, Stark.” 

“Come on, Wolverine. I am just messing around. But seriously, no policy?” 

Y/N rolled her eyes. “No, nothing like that. Thank god.”

“Last time, it bit you in the ass,” Tony glared at Y/N. 

She sighed. “I know, but why make these policies? I know in the end it can hurt the team, but… “ she shook her head, not finishing. 

“Out of curiosity, what would you do if you weren’t allowed to date?” Pepper asked. 

Logan and Y/N looked at each other. There was a brief silence. “I’d take her to Canada,” he said after some thinking. “We’d buy ourselves a place, somewhere in the mountains.” He could see how her eyes lit up when he mentioned living far away. “Unfortunately, we had decided to stay and teach young mutants. Who knows what will bring us the future.” 

Y/N wanted to press a kiss to his lips. But she knew Logan wasn’t fond of PDA. Her mouth opened to tell him how much she loved him. 

“Y/N?” 

Y/N took a deep breath through her nose. Slowly, she turned to the voice, finding Steve standing behind the couple, surprised to see her. “Hi,” she said cheerfully. 

“Wow, you look amazing. I’m glad to see you again,” he nodded, smiling. His eyes moved to the man beside her. Steve observed him - he was tall muscular and a bit scary. He stretched his arm. “I’m Steve Rogers,” he introduced himself. 

Logan grabbed his hand, shaking it. “Logan,” he said firmly.

When their hands disconnected, both men turned their eyes on Y/N. “I see you are doing well,” Steve said to Y/N. “It’s been… what, two years?” 

“Something like that,” she shrugged. Her eyes moved to Logan. “I’ll quickly go to the bathroom before dinner. I’ll be right back.” Instantly, Logan leaned in and he pressed a kiss to her cheek. Y/N couldn’t believe her boyfriend was affectionate in public. They would leave the PDA behind closed doors. It was sweet.

Y/N walked through the crowd of people, heading to the ladies' room. No one paid her any attention. She registered some celebrities and politicians. Everyone was here for Tonny and Pepper. Y/N opened the door, walked in with a gentle smile and was met with Natasha. The smile was instantly gone. The woman was staring at her reflection in the mirror, fixing her make-up when her eyes landed on Y/N.

Y/N’s eyes widened. Her breath got stuck. As much as she told herself she was ready for this, she wasn’t. “Hi,” she said neutrally and quickly locked herself inside a toilet room. 

She heard the entrance door open and closed a few times. Y/N hoped Natasha left. Unfortunately, after she was done and left the toilet, Natasha was leaning against the counter, waiting. 

“Hi,” Natasha greeted her, whispering. Her eyes followed Y/N’s every moment. “H-how have you been?” 

Y/N sighed. She started to wash her hands. “Do we have to talk?” she asked emotionless. 

“Yes, we do. I haven’t seen you in two years. I missed you,” said Natasha. 

“You are kidding, right?” Y/N glared at her through the mirror. “How can you say this after what happened? How can you stand there and say those words when you had a thing with my then-boyfriend?” She turned off the water and wiped her hands with paper towels. “I promised myself I would enjoy this evening, celebrate Tony’s engagement and then leave. I guess things never turn out how we want.” 

After she was done, Y/N left the bathroom. She was visibly upset. All she wanted was to hide in Logan’s arms, have a meal and leave. How could she believe she’d be able to come here? Why was she still this hurt when she had a wonderful man by her side? Did she…? No. The only thing left was the hurt. Her heart belonged to Logan now. She loved him more than she ever loved anyone. 

“Y/N,” Natasha followed her out. “Please, let’s talk. You need to listen to me.” 

“I don’t have to do shit, Romanoff.” Fate wasn’t kind to Y/N. When she walked outside, she was met with the one person she hoped to avoid the most. “You’ve got to be shitting me,” she cursed. 

Bucky stood before her in a tux. His hair was short, face shaved and smooth. Those blue eyes were wide open as he stared at his ex-girlfriend all dressed up. “Oh my god,” he gasped. “Y/N, you are here.” 

“Obviously,” she sighed. “I am Tony’s good friend,” she said. She wanted to walk away from the. Unfortunately, he gently grabbed her by her forearm, stopping her. “Let me go, Barnes.” 

“Please, we need to talk. Only for a minute.” 

Y/N yanked her arm out of his grip. “There is nothing to talk about. I don’t want to talk to any of you,” her eyes went from him to Natasha and back. 

“Yes, there is,” he frowned. “You left without a word.” 

She frowned at him. “So? You slept with my best friend behind my back. You cheated on me and didn’t have the balls to be honest with me.” Y/N fixed her dress and straightened her back. “I found you two making out in the damn kitchen. So, no, there is nothing to talk about. I came here to celebrate Tony and Pepper.” 

Natasha sighed, upset about it all. Bucky shook his head. “You left, Y/N. For fuck’s sake you left without a word,” he raised his voice. 

“That’s all you care about?” she asked. “Barnes, you broke my heart. Do you think I’d stay here after what happened? Do you think I’d be happy to see you two together? Wake up. Both of you.” Y/N turned to Natasha, to see her upset face. 

A hand appeared on her shoulder, stroking it gently. Y/N released a deep breath she didn’t know she was holding and calmed down. She smelled Logan’s cologne he used for tonight. “You okay, baby?” he asked, eyes shooting daggers at the supersoldier and the spy. 

Y/N strengthened her back. “Logan, meet James Barnes and Natasha Romanoff,” she introduced them. She didn’t need to define who they were and what they did to her. Logan already knew. “They don’t seem to understand that I don’t want to talk to them.” 

Logan chuckled. “He seems like a guy who doesn’t understand a lot of things,” his eyes darkened. He was not fond of the man standing before him. 

“Excuse me?” Bucky frowned. 

“Oh, get a life, bub,” Logan scoffed. “The lady said she doesn’t want to talk to ya. So I suggest you leave her the fuck alone.” 

With that, Logan grabbed her hand and walked with her away from the pair. He pulled her hand to his lips, kissing its top. “You okay, sweetheart?” 

She nodded. “You know what? Let’s have some food, you know, do a little damage and then leave. I want to be alone with you tonight, sir. We have a hotel room that Tony provided us,” she winked at him. 

“That dress needs to go as soon as possible,” Logan purred to her ear. “One hour and then we are gone, princess.” 

[hysteria-things]

Can you make a song image with the song older by Isabel LaRosa or even kiss me more with doja and sza?

NEEDY, ARE WE? (part two)

read part one here

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!chris x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: the night started with only kisses, but you’ve never craved something so bad in your life. that something is your best friend chris sturniolo.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUTTY ASF, swearing, begging kink, teasing, making out, oral (male & female receiving), fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (SON’T EVEN TRY IT), marking, finger sucking, choking, slight spanking, praising, degradation, stomach bulge, overstimulation, dumbification, cream pie, cockwarming

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,713

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: sorry for the 3 AM post… but hello🥰

y/n is a whiny bitch in this LMAO

“what did i say?” chris whispers sternly, smacking your hand away when it reaches down to his pajama pants string for the third time.

another fifteen minutes went by, and your panties are soaked from the orgasm that washed over you not long ago. chris’ dick fucking hurts, but he enjoys seeing this side of you: needy and desperate. “i’m begging you.” you pout. “i need you inside me. please.”

you seriously don’t know what’s gotten into you. you’d never thought of your best friend this way, but tonight feels different. you’re so dick-deprived that you’ve turned into a whiny mess.

he sighs in defeat, untying his pants and pulling them down. your eyes lock in on the boner in his boxers, beaming once his aching cock slaps against his stomach.

licking your lips, you go to hover over his tip, but he beats you to it and instead pushes your head down. you look up at him with sad eyes.

“what?” he questions, even though he knows the problem. he knows you meant inside you the other way, but what’s the fun in not teasing first? “you said you needed me inside you.”

“that’s not what i—” he cuts you off by pushing your head down, gagging when he forces himself down your throat. you hum, bobbing your head while his grip stays in your hair.

he chuckles, using his free hand to move the pieces of hair out of your face so he can see you looking up at him through hooded eyes. “you’re talking too much. if one of them wakes up you’re going to be in big trouble.” he points to his brothers who are still peacefully sleeping on the couch in front of you.

it doesn’t take long for your throat to morph into the shape of his dick. he licks his lips and smiles menacingly, seeing how you suck his cock so casually. your cheeks hollow, causing chris to exhale to not make a loud noise.

your tongue kitty licks his red tip, pre-cum threatening to spill out. starting to suck, your hand pumps up and down his shaft. his eyebrows furrow, mouth hanging open as he watches your every move. the grasp on your head loosens, and before you know it, chris is pulling you up to where you’re hovering over his lap.

taking his thumbs, he spreads your folds to see the glistening silk in the dim light. your arousal coats the inside of your thighs, some of it dripping down your leg. he takes his pointer finger and slowly moves it up your slit. you flinch at the feeling. “what a needy pussy.” he mumbles, his finger easily sliding into your cunt from the wetness.

you barely give him time to add another when you rut your hips repeatedly, fucking yourself on his fingers. you’ve never felt so pathetic in your life, but you also never felt so turned on. it’s like he read your mind. “pathetic slut; becoming stupid on just my fingers.”

the degrading nickname has you whining, only to start humping his hand faster. he looks as you sink perfectly on his digits… in and out, in and out, your pussy stretching the more you move until—

he removes the two fingers, now soaked with your juices. chris grabs your thighs, sliding his body down so now that his mouth is directly under your cunt. his dick twitches as he groans, seeing it at this angle.

immediately, he sits you down on his face and starts to eat you out like he’s on a time limit, which he technically is. the way his tongue moves so deliciously has you seeing stars, gasping and tugging at the brown strands that lay on his head.

“no, please.” you cry quietly. yes, you love the pleasure your body is going through, but this isn’t what you want. he’s teasing you to tears, and it’s making you sexually frustrated. nonetheless, it only makes you want him more. “th-this isn’t what i want.”

chris hums, making a tiny moan slip from the vibration. his hand gently smacks the outside of your thigh to remind you to keep quiet. “i’m sorry.” you mumble, shutting your eyes tight and biting down hard on your bottom lip that you won’t be surprised if it draws blood.

again a moan falls from your mouth, but this time it’s louder than before. his palm hits you harder this time, and you take your hand to cover your mouth instead. each time you twitch or try to move away from being so overstimulated, his nose still manages to nudge at just the right spot on your clit.

not only are your shoulders shaking from your sobs, but your legs quiver when you feel the heat in your lower belly. mumbling out a few words, chris lets out a questionable hum while speeding up his movements. he wants you to be loud and clear.

“i’m gonna cum, chris.” you cry, thanking every god out there that his brothers are the heaviest sleepers on earth.

he flattens his tongue, smiling in the process while your legs squeeze around his head, cum dripping down onto his tastebuds. a grunt leaves his throat, your pussy tasting exactly the way it’s supposed to. it’s by far the best meal he’s ever eaten.

sitting up again, you guys are back at the position you were at when this all started. chris enjoys the teasing, but he doesn’t know how much longer he can take. dick hard to the point where it hurts; pre-cum starting to leak from the tip. it’s unbearable.

eyes scanning his face, you bite your lip seductively. some strands stick to his forehead from the sweat, mouth is puffy and wet from your cum. how can you possibly be more horny? you have no idea.

leaning in, he pulls away when you’re centimeters apart. you pout, repeating the action when this time he turns his head with a chuckle. “stop teasing me.” you punch his chest lightly out of brattiness. “i need to get fucked by your cock. please, chris.”

raising his eyebrows, he smirks before grabbing your thighs that are still shaking from your high. “see? that wasn’t hard, now, was it?”

he helps you lift yourself to hover over his tip, his grip releasing from your flesh but still grazing it while you slowly start to sink onto his dick. your back arches, eyelids fluttering as you feel every crevice stretch from his size. it’s like your entire body was made for chris and chris only.

“—fucking birds stealing my shit.” the end of the sentence is a grumble, rustling coming from across the room. chris jumps into action and covers where you two are conjoined with your nightgown, being that you still have it on.

still, you decide to roll your hips, feeling his cock rubbing at your walls and insides just right. to keep a moan from coming, you nuzzle your head into his neck and bite at it.

nick sits up, eyes still closed but looking over nonetheless. “fucking birds.” he repeats.

“tell those birds, nick.” chris says, the hickey forming on his neck while you nibble down on another empty spot.

nick nods. “i’ll tell them. yeah, i’ll tell them. i’ll tell them…” then, he lays back down, the soft snores continuing as if he didn’t wake up at all.

you lift your head, chris now face to face with your tear-stained one. “wanna kiss you.” you whisper, starting to plop up and down on him. he doesn’t say anything, only grabs your throat gently to pull you in. from the way your tongues intertwine, you can taste yourself.

at this point, your bouncing so fast that whenever the couch starts to creak he has to grip on your ass for you to slow down. you whimper softly. “feels so good!”

“shit.” he exhales, mouth agape as he watches the bulge in your lower abdomen peek out whenever you sit, your pussy swallowing his fat cock whole. you were, without a doubt, fucking made for him.

accidentally letting out a scream when your g-spot gets hit, it’s cut off by the hand squeezing tighter around your throat. he glances at his brothers to make sure there are no signs of movement before speaking. “don’t have them wake up or we’re going to be in deep shit, and i won’t be able to fuck you again. is that what you want?”

“no!” you choke out, his thumb grazing your bottom lip while he looks at it.

“then you have to be quiet.”

without thinking, you nod and open your mouth, inviting his thumb inside for you to suck on. he smirks with a whisper. “that’s my good girl.”

he removes his thumb from your mouth, now holding your jaw in place. hickeys decorate one side of his neck.

you don’t know how long you’ve been going at it, but you can’t take it anymore. your breathing is becoming heavier the more his dick hits that angle inside you, eyes rolling back having your vision almost fade to black.

clenching so tight to the point where you could barely move up on him, your nth orgasm of the night washes over you, dripping down his thighs and onto the sofa. alas, you don’t make a peep, because you're chris’s good girl. you will always listen to him.

to ride out your high, you still move when you talk into his ear. “cum in me, please.” you gasp, your brain officially shutting off. your face portrays different waves of pleasure all at once, drool dribbling from your chin. you didn’t even notice releasing a-fucking-gain.

ropes of cum shoot up into you with a thrust of his hips, grunting each time he does so. he throws his head back with his eyes slammed shut, waiting ten seconds until he’s done planting his seed into your womb.

“thank you… thank you…” you repeat. he grabs your hips to lift you, but you whimper and nuzzle yourself closer.

exhausted is an understatement, hence why you fell asleep in mere seconds with his cock deep within your cunt. all chris can doze off to is think about how he has to clean this up before morning.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

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thanks for the clarification ♡

so here is the thought I had

hyunjin and reader being each other's crush but absolutely idiotic about it so they don't know the other's feelings

they have common friends that are sick of the tension between the two. one decides to tell hyunjin, the other suggests the reader to do something to make hyunjin jealous so she can find out if he likes her. (boring I know)

one time when everyone's around, she flirts with jisung or something idk and she gets too touchy so hyunjin is annoyed af. pulls her away to somewhere private and voila, they've confessed in the best way possible 😌🌸

CRUSH. anon request w/ HYUNJIN.

18+ ONLY! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

pairing: hyunjin x female reader genre + warnings: friends to lovers, smut mdni!, oral (both f & m receiving), hyunjin calls reader kitten, semi-public wc: 5.4k mina's note: Anon also wanted to throw ‘kitten’ in it (my fav pet name 👀) Also I really enjoyed writing this & love how much details you put on the request!! My box is open for feedback 💓

other works here ; any comments and thoughts you can drop them here ; ty for reading.

You don’t know how you got in this situation but here you are; staring at your friend who is currently playing basketball, topless. Well, you’re more like drooling over him.

He just looked so good, so hot. His tall, lean, milky body just running around on the court covered in a thin layer of sweat. Normally you hate the thought of sweat, but it works for him. It works well for Hwang Hyunjin, actually. He even looks like he smells nice too. You watch as he laughs at the other players, hogging the ball like the main character in some high school drama. Your eyes waver from his pretty smile to his muscular arms to his piercing, which is sitting so perfectly under his eyebrow, then to his burgundy hair.

You pay attention the beads of sweat that trickles from his hair to his chest, dripping down his body. You gulped when you see them land on the area just underneath his belly button. You completely loss your sanity as your eyes covered that area. His treasure trail? Happy trail? Whatever people called it. Why was it so sexy on Hyunjin?

You quickly look away before anyone catches you; you shouldn’t be looking at him like that. Hyunjin is your friend.

When you meet him two years ago in your first year of college, he was just some guy in class you become friends with. He is good looking, but you didn’t find him attractive. There was no chemistry, no tension, no feelings. You don’t know how it started but you find yourself thinking about him every other hour of the day now. You would freeze when someone else mentions his name, blush when he was in close proximity of you and even stutter when he speaks to you.

“Hey.. Hey Y/N,” a voice snapping you out of your thoughts, followed by a nudge on your shoulder.

“Hm?” You answered, unaware of who was even calling out to you. You turn your head and there he was, your crush Hwang Hyunjin crouching down next to you, smiling at your blank reaction. You’re used to him towering over you since he was way taller than you but to have him crouched down like this looking at you makes you feel a bit.. timid.

“I’m going to borrow this,” he says dangling your fresh hand towel in-front of you. Oh yeah, the hand towel you carry around in your bag just in case your physical education professor makes you participate in class. The one you won’t let anyone use or even touch.

When they say having a crush makes you do crazy stuff, they do mean it. You were quick to lean him it.

“Huh.. uhh yeah, sure,” you answered, eyes travelling from your towel to his face again.

When you realised you’ve been staring at him longer than you should have, you cough and drop eye contact, making Hyunjin gulped a little bit too loud. “I don’t need it anyways you can keep—”

“—I’ll return it,” he says with a smile. “I’ll wash it first of-course.” You nod your head quietly as you gather up your belongings, getting ready to go to your next class.

“Come on Hyunjin, we are going to be late for class!” Chan, the oldest out of the friend group, calls out to him.

“So.. I’ll see you at lunch then?” Hyunjin says after noticing your quietness.

“Yeah, I’ll see you at lunch,” you mumbled, shooting him a quick glance.

“Bye bro,” Hyunjin says to Minho, giving him a handshake before collecting his bag and going off with Chan.

Minho chuckles at the scene that just unfolded in-front of him; two of his best friends obviously crushing on one another but no one is making a move. Well, it’s not really you and Hyunjin’s fault since you guys don’t know about the other person’s feelings.

“You know he likes you right?” Minho blurted out and you turn your head to his direction.

“Who?” You answered nervously. Did Minho just witness everything?

“Hyunjin,” Minho replies with raised eyebrows, his smug a little bit too cocky for your liking today. You rolled your eyes at him but underneath your skin, you are hot, flustered, embarrassed.

“No way!” you denied. Hyunjin could never like you, he only saw you as a friend.

“He does—”

You scoffed a little bit too fast.

“Do you not see the way he looks at you Y/N?” You can’t tell if Minho was being serious or not.

Minho does have a history of being a joker which makes you think he’s just pranking you. But he also is a very honest friend, he would never joke around with stuff that could potentially hurt you.

“Uhhhh—” you hesitantly reply.

Minho takes in a loud breath, “—I don’t know if you’re genuinely dense or you just don’t want to admit it.”

“He doesn’t like me,” you answered.

“He does,” Minho turns his head behind to look at Hyunjin and you followed. You watch as the two made their way across the field, Chan wrapping his arms around Hyunjin’s shoulder trying to snatch your towel away from him.

“Oh, you don’t want to give it to me because that’s your girl’s towel?” Chan laughs, basically choking Hyunjin at this point.

“She’s.. she’s not.. my girl..” Hyunjin softly replies in a cough, not sure if he was actually being choked by Chan’s big arms or by choking up at you being called his girl.

“She’s not your girl.. yet?” The older boy teased.

“What do you mean?” Hyunjin questioned, hoping Chan didn’t see through him.

Chan looked back at you and Minho who was still sitting by the basketball court. You swiftly turn back to Minho, hoping Chan didn’t catch you starring at Hyunjin.

“Trust me,” Minho said with his smug face, raising his brow to the older boy across the field. “You know how to tell if he likes you?”

You stay quiet. You were curious but didn’t want to seem like it, so you just raised your eyebrow. Tell me, tell me Lee Minho!

“Make him jealous,” Minho says lifting his chin to Jisung who was currently surrounded by a group of girls shoving their gym towel into his face.

You know what Minho was referring to; that’s how Felix ended up with Nayeon. Minho suggested to Nayeon to make Felix jealous by sitting next to Jisung at some dinner since he was such a girl magnet. Next thing you know she was pulled away from the table by Felix and they have been together ever since.

You scoffed. It sure worked for them, but you weren’t going to use Jisung like that; he was your friend.

“I’m not going to use Han-Ji like that,” you replied.

“Okay look..” he blinks a little too hard at you. “Just use Han-Ji.. He is also as tired as we all are of you and Hyunjin’s….” He pauses. “..tension..”

“Who is we?” You asked confused.

Who else has been noticing your little crush on Hyunjin? Is what you really wanted to ask your best friend, but you don’t.

“..And there’s no tension between me and Hyunjin.. I don’t know what you talking about,” deny deny deny.

“Everyone in the friend group can feel the tension, you idiot,” the nickname causing you to pout. “Felix, Bin, Min, Lia—”

“—Hyunjin doesn’t like me.”

“Bet?” He was too quick with this. “I’ll let you have bragging rights if he doesn’t like you. But I get the bragging rights if he does,” he suggested.

“Huh, what?” Both of them sound bad to you. Why would you be happy with bragging rights if Hyunjin doesn’t like you back? It would sting you! And if by chance Hyunjin likes you back, you would hate to deal with Minho’s telling the whole campus he was cupid. What the hell was Minho on?

“What?” He laughed after noticing your face, full of displeasure. “I mean, the worst that could happen is he doesn’t like you back.. But then that means you get bragging rights?” Minho laughs tilting his head to the side. He can read you well.

“Dude you’re insufferable!” You rolled your eyes. He was still looking at you with his smirk.. Oh wait. “What do you mean like me back? I don’t like him,” you denied, it but wasn’t fast enough, he had caught you.

“Sure.. I know everything. Come on, trust me. I’m your best friend,” Minho nudges your shoulders. “Remember the party this weekend? How you rather sit at home and do nothing. Well maybe you should just come. We haven’t seen you out in a while.. Come, and be prettier than this..” he says looking down at your gym wear. You were in baggy sweat shorts and an even baggier t-shirt. “And I’ll help you get with him-”

“—Hey!” you shove his shoulder back. “What’s wrong with me now?!” You look down at your attire. It was gym class anyways of course you would be in this, even if you don’t participate.

“What? Nothing,” he answers playfully. “Come on, we going to be late to our next class!” Minho gets up before opening up his hand to help you up.  “Han-ji, we’re late!”

It was lunch time and you and Han-Ji ditched Minho to go down to the college’s local bakery to get some lunch.

“You’re totally not coming to the party?” Minho asked Hyunjin who was sat at the lunch table, eating his huge burrito. Seungmin, Felix and Chan were also there chiming into the conversation.

“Who’s going?” Hyunjin asked, a mouth full.

“Just the usual.. us. So, Chris, Bin, Jeongin, Yeji.. and then half of the third years are invited,” Hyunjin doesn’t look too interested. Don’t get the wrong idea, he loves his friends and parties, but he had also seen them every single day on campus, so he had no fear of missing out.

“…oh and Y/N says she’s going to come too,” Minho blurted, playing full attention to his friends reaction.

Hyunjin’s ears perks up at your name, his cheeks suddenly growing pink as he looks back at Minho.

“Actually.. I’ll come. Haven’t been had fun in a while,” Hyunjin drops the eye contact when he notices Minho’s sneer. “You want me to bring anything?” Hyunjin continues a little twitchy, playing with his food.

Minho just laughs. This was getting too exciting for him. “Bring your courage!” The rest of the boys laughed.

“What?” Hyunjin asked, narrowing his eyes at the crowd.

“You like Y/N, don’t you?” Seungmin exclaimed catching Hyunjin by surprised.

“Umm...” Hyunjin freezes. He doesn’t know how to answer. Of course, he likes you, but he didn’t want to admit knowing the boys were definitely going to tease him even more for it. But he didn’t want to say no just in case they spin it around to say he doesn’t like you at all as a friend.  

“Don’t worry bro, she likes you too,” Minho break the silence. Hyunjin’s heart stop at his best friend’s words. He didn’t know what he expected but it wasn’t that.

“Really? She likes me back?” Hyunjin replies promptly, a sheer smile pulling on his face. He was definitely blushing.  

“Back.. So you do like her?” Chan torments Hyunjin again and Hyunjin’s smile slowly faded form his face. They had caught him too.   

“Hey Y/N!” Felix calls out and the rest of the boys look over Hyunjin’s shoulder. He wanted to spin back to check but he didn’t want the boys to play more into his eagerness, so he just freezes looking straight at them.

“Hi Lix!” Your voice calls from behind him.

“Come here! Hurry!” Felix continues to make conversation with you.

“Bro just ask her out already, we’re all tired of the tension,” Chan quickly expresses.

“What tension?” Hyunjin was desperate to see what they had to say before you got to the table.

“Sexual tension,” Seungmin whispers and everyone goes silence, pressing their lips trying to hold back their smile.

“There’s no tension between me and—”

“—Okay you say there’s so tension? I guess Han-Ji can make his move then,” Minho interrupted, surprising Hyunjin again.

“Does Han-Ji likes Y/N—"

“—Shh she’s behind you,” Chan shushes the younger boy up before he could finish his sentence.

“Hey..” Hyunjin says timidly before you could even sit down.

“Hey..” you replied back, climbing over the bench so you can sit next to him. The whole group watches as Hyunjin blushed at your proximity. “Sit here,” you pat the area on the other side of you for Jisung to sit.

“Coffee and pastries for lunch? That place is like a 10 minute walk,” Chan askes from across the table.

“It’s okay, Han-ji keeps me company,” you say as you nudge Jisung a little bit and you both open up your pastry bag.

Hyunjin glances at you from aside, he stays quiet.

Hyunjin doesn’t know how to feel. He didn’t expect his boys to catch on about his feelings for you and he didn’t expect Minho to blurt out that you like him back. Hyunjin is also confused after seeing how close Han-Ji is to you too, he never really questions your close relationship until now. Does Han-Ji actually like you? Thoughts flood his brain as he continues to eat his burrito.  

You rushed home from your last Friday class to get ready for the party. You threw on one of your mini sun dress, pairing it up with some sandals and a cross body bag before collecting your black cardigan and rushing out to Yeji who was ready in the living room waiting to do some pre-party shots with you.

You and Yeji tipsy-ly made it to the loudest house on the street. Lee Minho’s residency. It was only 8pm and it was already crowded. She held your hand and clumsy pulls you through dim-lit hallways packed with people before reaching the living room. There they were, all of your friends in the living room with a drink in their hand, conversing with one another.  

“There they are!” Seungmin yells as he sees you and his girlfriend. He quickly makes his way to rip Yeji off you, pulling her into the kitchen to get a drink.

“Wow, my best friend finally came to one of my parties!” Minho appears out of no where handing you a beer.

“I was here two months ago Min..” You playfully rolled your eyes. “When you and Nayeon vomited everywhere and me and Felix had to bathe you guys.. naked,” you refreshed his memory.

“I remember.. Crazy night..” Minho laughs. He stops to look you up and down before grabbing your shoulders. “Very pretty Y/N. You planning to make someone jealous?” He complimented before getting back to his little mischiefs.

“Maybe,” you answered looking around the room. You hadn’t seen Hyunjin yet and Minho notices.

“Your boy is hella tipsy by the way, he keeps telling me he’s nervous but won’t tell me why,” Minho informs you.

“He’s not my boy.”

“Sure.. okay, anyways so not your boy is currently staring at you from behind,” Minho also announced as he stares at Hyunjin from over your shoulder.

Hyunjin’s heart stops at your presence. He has always found you pretty but tonight, he found you extremely gorgeous. Maybe because tonight was the night, he was going to let you know about his feelings. He takes another sip of his drink, pondering how he’s going to pull you away. He wanted to find the perfect timing, he didn’t want to do it too early just in case you reject him, and he has to go home early.

He watches you as you make your way to Jisung who was currently sat on the tiniest fucking armchair he had ever seen.

“Han-Ji!” You were going to follow Minho’s instructions; you either leave tonight with Hyunjin or rejected by Hyunjin but with bragging rights.

“Hey Y/N, you look like you had a couple of drinks already,” Jisung says as he touches his owns cheeks to indicate where your pink complexion was. You nodded bashfully to your friend before getting up on the arm of the chair to sit.

“It’s wet there, I just spilled my drink there. Come here,” Jisung stops you before you could sit. He pulled your arm so you can squeeze next to him on the tiny fucking armchair. You hope Hyunjin was watching.

“You okay?” Jisung asks cupping your face to lean your head against his shoulder - he knows how tired you get when you drink.

“Mhmm,” you closed your eyes as you continue to converse with your friend.

Hyunjin was still watching everything from the other side of the room. His hand was wrapped around his drink tightly, expressing his annoyance at the skin-ship and at himself for not pulling you away the second you got here, like he wasn’t waiting all night just for you to arrive. He starts to feel a little jealous now that your attention is on Han-Ji. And maybe Minho was right, and Han-Ji does have feelings for you.

He had to do it. He had to pull you away and ask why you hadn’t noticed his feelings for you all this time. He feels himself grow hot, he was feeling tense.

Hyunjin takes in a deep breath before downing the drink, squeezing his cup on the process. The plastic from the red cup causes disturbance making the boys turn their head at their friend.

“You good, pretty boy?” Changbin asks noticing the change in Hyunjin’s demeanour, taking the red cup out of his hand.

“Yeah, just need some air,” Hyunjin says running a hand through his fluffy red hair as he makes his way to you.

“Can we talk?” Someone askes from above you and you instantly open your eyes, locking eyes with them.

You feel your heart skip a beat as you finally see him. He had on some baggy jeans with a black t-shirt, one sleeved rolled up complementing his muscular arm. God, he looked so hot; you feel yourself drooling over him again.

“Okay.” You answered softly.

“Come,” he says, grabbing a hold of your hand making you get up from the chair. You heart start to flutter at his brace. Was it happening now? Is Hyunjin jealous?

He guides you through the crowd of people in the living room before dragging you up the stairs and towards Minho’s bedroom. He lets you enter first before locking the door behind him.

Your eyes wonder around Minho’s bedroom - his room was dark, quite clean, quite quiet for such a loud guy. You scoff to yourself quietly at the contrast. As you spin around the room, Hyunjin watches you and smiles at your cuteness before getting back to his senses of why he pulled you here in the first place.

“Are you drunk?” He asked suddenly.

“Hmm? Not quite yet,” you answered, making your way into Minho’s ensuite. “Why?” You asked so he can follow you, just testing the waters.

You placed your bag on the counter before digging through it trying to find your lipstick.

“What are you doing then?” Hyunjin asked towering behind you looking at you through the mirror.

“What do you mean?” You glance up at him to ask before going through your bag again, acting like you had no idea what was going on, even though your heart was beating just as fast as his.

“What were you doing up on Han-Ji like that?” Yep, he saw everything.

“I wasn’t on him?” You lied.

“Y/N.” He was getting a little be frustrated at your replies, you were obviously up to something.

“Why does it matter to you anyways—”

“—It’s making me jealous.” Hyunjin interrupted you making you glance up at him again. Minho’s plan was working. Minho was right.

You spin around to face him and finally, you can feel the tension everyone was talking about. He likes you. You feel your heart beating rapidly as he stares into your eyes. Your breathing becomes heavier as he takes another step towards you. You try to keep eye contact just to see if he drops it first, but he doesn’t. Your eyes drop first, to his lips then up to his eyes then back to his lips. They looked so full, so soft. Wouldn’t be crazy if you guys just kissed?

“Hyunjin?” You say above a whisper, lips forming into a pout right after. Hyunjin found you so precious looking up at him like this.

His resting face rapidly turns into a smirks now as he watches your eyes flicker to his lips. He knew what you wanted; he knows how you feel now. “Hmm?” He questioned, just to tease you a little bit.

“Can you just kiss me already?” You say, not begging but with a hint of desperation. You like him and you just confirmed he likes you, what were you guys waiting for?

He chuckles before his hand comes up to your face, cupping it for a second then he leans and kisses you. His lips felt so soft, so warm just like how you imagined them felt. You couldn’t explain the feeling, it was like you were in dream, it’s incredible.

Soon Hyunjin deepens the kiss, letting his tongue enter your mouth as one of his hand keeps your face in place, the other snaked down your body to your waist. Your tongue swiped against his lips, and you tasted a bit of lemonade and tequila. If this was a way to drink tequila, then you were all for it.

“Up,” he pulls away to say and you listen jumping onto the counter with the help of his grip. You spread your legs so he can stand in between them. He looks at you in awe, he couldn’t control his smile.

“You didn’t answer me..” he says as his hands find their way under your dress just resting on your thighs.

“Hm?” You whimpered, wanting his lips back on yours.

“What were you doing up on Han-Ji like that?” Hyunjin asked again, a little lower, a little more raspier now that he’s more confident to dominate you.

“To make you jealous,” you whisper back to him, admitting to all your little shenanigans.

“Why?” He couldn’t hold back his smile.

“To see if you like me back.” You say, and his ears perked up at your words.

“You got your answer?”

“Mhmm..” you admit.

“Good.”

“But.. want to hear you say it,” you reply cheekily, your arms coming to wrap around his shoulders to pull him close to you so your lips are barely touching.

He lets out an airy breath before pressing a kiss to your lips, letting it linger on for a little bit just to make your heart flutter once more for him. “I like you,” he says, and you try to conceal the smile pulling up on your face. “Happy?”

“Yes.”

“Where were we?” Hyunjin says and you pull him back onto you.

Maybe it was the pent up sexual tension you both had been holding in as, as soon as your lips were connected again, it became again heated. His hands are fondling with your thighs, and his tongue is slipped back down your mouth. You feel a hot sensation making its way to your core, a moan slipping from your lips. He smirked in between the kisses, his hands inching up higher now hiking you dress up.

Hyunjin continues his kisses down your neck, and you tilt your head back, letting him cover more area with his lips.

As he harshly sucks on your neck, your hands start to explore his body, caressing up and down his chest, down his covered stomach. You slowly creep them lower to his hard on that was pressing against the counter, begging to be touch. He lets out a groan at the contact.

“Hyunjin?” you whimpered at how stiff he was. You both wanted more but not on this cold bathroom counter. “Are we actually doing this here?” You ask.

“Where else would you do it?” Hyunjin looks down at you his a raised eyebrow, his hands stopping at your hips.

You look around before cheekily suggesting, “Minho’s bed,” and he cracks up.

“Come,” he takes a step back to hold your hand as you jump off the counter.

Hyunjin pulls you back onto him as he sat back on Minho’s bed - it was comfier than he expected, it was actually quite comfy to fuck on actually.

“You’re such a good kisser, it making me so horny,” He says, gripping your thighs so you’re straddling him. You feel his hard-on abusing your core and you become like jelly, draping yourself onto him. God, it was also making you so horny.

Are you both really gonna fuck in your best friend’s bed? Probably.

“Hyunjin?” You start to suck on his neck, returning the marks he gave you. “Wanna blow you… can I?” You asked, rolling your hips onto his.

He sucks in a sharp breath at the pleasure, halting your hips. “Fuck— kitten..” The pet name slipping from his lips, making you stop whatever you were doing to look him in the eyes. Did he just call you kitten? And did you like it?

“Yeah? Wanna be a good kitten? And suck me off right here in your best-friend room?” He teased after seeing your eyes lit up at the name.

“Yes.. wanna be a good kitten,” you replied, lifting his shirt to slowly to expose his abs, your hand lazily runs across his milky body.

You shuffled back, kneeling down by the bed before peeking at his happy trail. You finally got to see it up close, and you didn’t waste anytime before attaching your lips to it. Hyunjin’s hand flung to hold onto your hair and he lets out a groan as you suck the skin around his navel.

“You’re just like a kitten, nipping into me like that,” he moans.

“You love it,” you teased him.

“Yeah I do..” he confesses breathlessly. “Couldn’t stop thinking back to gym class yesterday.. how you eyed it all lesson..” Oh, so he caught you staring but didn’t say anything?

“Was it driving you insane?” He torments and you murmured nodding your head.

“God, kitten… need your mouth now, I’m might cum untouched,” he begs and you chuckle, blowing hot air from your mouth at his skin causing him to flinch.

You give him what he wants. You undo his jeans, shimmering it down his thighs before palming him through his boxer.

“Y/N, please..” he begs again, closing his eyes to hold in his release.

“You’re so big,” you say the second you pull down his boxer letting his red rock solid dick slap across his stomach. You didn’t expect him to be him to be this big, this thick. You gulp at it before wrapping your hands around him. “Wanna taste..” you blabbered as you brought his tip to your lips.

Hyunjin’s head kick back as you wrap your lips around his head. His hands gripped your hair tightly as he starts to set the pace, and you let him. He pushes you down taking half his length into your mouth before guiding you back up. You moan as he slides down your mouth, unable to control the pleasure you were having from just giving him head. Once you go match his pace, Hyunjin lets go of his grip and runs his through your hair, endlessly praising you as he tries to keeps himself together.

“You’re so good—” he sucks in another breath.

You take him fully into your mouth and gagged once he hits the back of your throat. “Ahh, cuming- cuming—” he lets out a low grunt as he paints your throat white. You swallow the warm thick liquid before letting go of him with a pop.

“Kitten, you’re so perfect. Such a good mouth,” he says finding your arm and pulling up to sit on his lap.

“Can I return the favour?” His hand wrapped around your hips, his finger carefully gathering the fabric of your skirt so he can expose your panties.

“I don’t know if I can keep quiet Hyunjin,” you admitted. You can still hear the loud music outside, even if it was muffled by the walls but a part of you’re still afraid someone might hear you. You couldn’t even keep it in while making out, nor sucking him off, you don’t know how you’ll be if you guys actually have sex.

“But I can’t leave you high like this,” Hyunjin replies, his two fingers just touching the fabric of your panties that was getting soaked by your wetness. You kick your head back at the pleasures “I just know you’re wet from sucking me off.. Let me, let me just eat you out..” he begged, his eyes turned dark full of lust.

“Please,” you gave in, out of breath.

Hyunjin plants a kiss to your neck before laying you down on the bed.

“Fuck, you are soaked,” Hyunjin says the second he lifts up your dress and sees the huge wet patch on your underwear. He kneels down and peels it off, watching a thin line of your wetness pulls off with it. Hyunjin spreads your legs wider and his eyes rolls to the back of his head as exposes you. You were wet, glistening, it was so hot to him.

You let out a moan as the cold from Minho’s room brushed against your core. “Please, need your mouth,” it was your turn to beg.

Hyunjin complies and attached his lips to your pussy. “Ahh! Mhmm.. More..” you weren’t kidding when you said you don’t know if you can keep quiet.

Hyunjin buries his face deeper as he contents to lick all over you, his nose rubbing against your clit. He was basically pussy drunk at his stage, gripping and pulling your hip closer to his faces. Your head falls back as you feel the pleasure building up in your core, your thighs volunteering closing around his head to add more pressure.

“I’m going cum, please.. Hyunjin— gonna cum..” you whine as he harshly sucks on your clit now, it was basically the cheat code in making you cum and he was able to get it the first time.

You moaned as you feel a glush of wetness explode from your core, you had cum. Hyunjin can tell you’re orgasming but he didn’t want to stop, you were too addicting.

You had to rip him off of you before you were overstimulated. “Hyunjin, too much,” you whined and he finally lifts his head.

“You taste too good kitten, sorry couldn’t stop,” he says and he wipes your wetness around his mouth with the back of his hand before licking it.

“Come here,” he jumps on the bed, pulling you into his arms. He runs his finger through your hair as you recover. You both stare at each other for a while before falling into a fit of giggles. How crazy is it that you were each other’s crush and not realising it.

“Should we go back out?” He asked smoothing down your hair.

“I have to touch up my lipstick first,” you say, pecking his nose.

“Let me help you,” he pulls you up from the bed before back hugging you to the bathroom where your bag was.

“Back to mine tonight, okay?” He reminded you softly as he wipes your lipstick in your lips - a hint of innocence radiating from him like he didn’t just lap up all your juices like a greedy animal.

“Of course, I have no where else I rather be tonight,” you answered, grinning from ear to ear at your pretty boy.

“Can’t believe it took you to squeeze into that tiny chair with Han-Ji for me to tell you,” Hyunjin beats himself up.

“It’s okay Hyunjin, I reckon the timing was perfect,” you reassured.

The house was packed now than before, it took you and Hyunjin a while to squeeze through all the people. Minho watch as you both hold hands, happily, making your way down the stairs, his smug pulling back on his face.

“Who got the bragging rights?” Minho asks cheekily as you both walk past him.

“You.” You answered rolling your eyes and Hyunjin laughs.

“You also got a messy bed too, bro,” Hyunjin taps Minho by the shoulders before following you.

Minho was left mouth agape as he stares up at the stairs. “Did they just…”

[vultbae]

small world ❀

art donaldson x female reader

part two (soon)

↳ summary: Art and Patrick were once your peers at the Mark Rebellato Academy —not the nicest ones. Five years later, you've made a friend that can help you fuck with their minds a little.

↳ warnings: making out, dry humping, manipulation, a lot of pettiness, mentions of bullying, and weight!! the dumbification of art donaldson tbh

↳ notes: Istg I be having the most random ideas, but I hope you enjoy!! as always, english is not my first language lolz

word count: 3.1k

Tashi enters the living room with a bottle of champagne and two crystal flutes, moving gracefully in a beautiful blue mini-dress. With a soft pop, she eases the cork, instantly pouring the effervescent gold-ish liquid into the two glasses. 

"You shouldn't even worry about them," Tashi says with a wry smile. As she finishes serving you some rosé Veuve Clicquot, she hands you the glass. "What are you—like, the second or third in Europe? They are gonna be broke by their thirties," she concludes, staring at you with confident eyes.

You nod, taking a sip of champagne. "Don't see it as serious; it'll be fun."

Tashi raises her glass, a gleam of satisfaction in her eyes. "Im just saying, don't stress over men."

You clink your flute against Tashi’s. "Alright."

A year and a half ago, you had met Tashi Duncan, who you believed was a hard-hearted bitch but ended up being a close friend of yours. She is merciless, proficient, and goddamn; she has that vicious aura you worship so much. While living in Biot, you'd always look for the nearest CRT to watch Tashi flawlessly play, enchanted by how she unnerved her adversaries.

During summer break, your father dragged you out of the academy to visit California for a benefaction event. Amidst the glamour and chatter of the event, you caught sight of Tashi —most likely attending due to her relevance spiking around the area. Luckily, your connection rapidly deepened, fueled by reciprocal admiration and tennis dependence.

And the commitment to stay in touch despite the geographical distance worked. Tashi became pretty much your best friend, and you became hers. Aside from the workaholic aspect, the resemblances between you were too much to ignore. Sooner than later, you discovered much about Tashi's personal life, the players she liked and despised, and her daily anecdotes regarding tennis and her intimate life. And that's how you became acquainted with Fire and Ice's peculiar hyper-fixation on Tashi.

Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig.

You thought it was a unique offering from God. You didn't expect you'd get the opportunity to face the golden pair again. When Tashi told you she had met Zweig and Donalson, a powerful sentiment of gratitude washed over you. You nearly fell to your knees when she proceeded to explain they were a walking boner for her. If that wasn't high power granting you a second chance to delight yourself, it was an insane coincidence.

But telling Tashi the backstory was a different pain in the ass. Although she expressed some sort of disgust towards Zweig and Donaldson's brainless carnal-based attitude, you couldn't buy it.  And your skepticisms were demonstrated as valid when she —dreamy voice and all that shit— confessed through the phone she nearly had a threesome with them. A fucking threesome. You couldn't hold it back anymore, so you told her everything.

Tashi was aware of tennis's influence on your household, as you were raised by two renowned tennis coaches from the States. When you turned eight, your parents turned you in at the Mark Rebellato Academy —as if you were condemned to play tennis by default. The detrimental part of your journey was developing thyroid issues when you were twelve. Jesus, twelve years old — the commencement of the preteen period where kids either kiss your feet or bully you. One year after, along with the anticipated weight gain, you met Art and Patrick. And as if you weren't unfortunate enough already, the two —who at the time looked like fucking Beavis and Butthead— decided they didn't like your physical appearance. They hated it.

“Hey, Y/l/n!” Patrick’s voice rang out, sharp and mocking.

You froze, your heart sinking to the underground. You tried to focus on your serve, but your hands were immobile. 

Patrick sauntered over, his smirk widening as he looked you up and down. “What’s the matter, Y/n? Ball too heavy for you to lift?”

You heard Art’s laughter behind your back. He joined in a kind of trembling voice. “Or maybe she’s saving her strength for lunch. She doesn't hesitate when it comes to eating.”

The echo of them and the rest of the kids on the court laughing was a sound that felt like daggers piercing your heart.

After two years of ceaseless bullying and humiliation—which also distracted you from tennis—your parents sent you to The Mouratoglou Tennis Academy in Biot, a small town in France. You are not sure if it was the harassment itself, the low self-esteem, or possibly your undeniable attraction for Donaldson. It didn't matter. By the age of seventeen, you were undoubtedly one of the major promises of European tennis.

So, explaining the theatrical, soap opera-like backstory to Tashi for your detestation of Zweig and Donaldson took time. But when you did, it was worth it because Tashi didn't distrust your testimony, and if anyone was exhilarated to play some moves against them at the beginning, it was Duncan. 

That's the explanation behind Tashi pitching a tremendous party to celebrate her commitment to Stanford. This was absurd, to say the least, considering she had college offers piling up, and no one doubted she would commit to a prestigious school. But Tashi knew you'd visit from France, and this was just the perfect instance to hook you up with both condemned.

Because, of course, her biggest fangirls would attend. 

It didn't take long until the country house was full of people ranging from Tashi's cousins to bare acquaintances. And spotting Fire and Ice was easier than you thought. 

Tashi elbows you discreetly and signs with her head the direction they are standing. "There they are."

Your gaze falls over Art, who is laughing with —who you assume is—Patrick. His features are sharper and more defined. The lanky, slender physique you remembered from his premature teenage years had filled out into a more athletic build, with broader shoulders tapering to a trim waist covered in a light pink shirt. His blonde hair, which was no longer too light, was now strawberry blonde-ish, slightly tousled, and cascading over his ears.

Patrick, standing a few feet away, was equally transformed. His brunette hair, just a bit longer than you remember, frames a face that had hardened over the years—angular jaw, defined cheekbones, and piercing eyes that seem to miss nothing. The fucking smirk is still there, and you can see how he displays it every two seconds at whatever thing Art is telling him.

The interior of your stomach resembles a volcano about to erupt. You feel ambivalent, so many emotions overlapping each other. You see two cute, hell, gorgeous guys, and you wish you could approach them without considering crucifying them before. And you can't help but feel envious at how effortlessly Tashi managed to tame Art and Patrick while the only thing you got from them was hostility.

Your eyes can't seem to unbuckle from them. Tashi catches you slightly frowning at the panorama, and she isn't certain if you are infatuated or planning murder on the spot. "Come on."

You have no time to react before Tashi leads you through some partygoers to reach where Zweig and Donaldson are. Like dogs sniffling fresh meat, it's pathetic how their heads twist simultaneously when Tashi approaches them, conversation instantly pausing. It is as if Tashi's presence was magnetic for them.

"Well, hello, both of you," Tashi greets them excitedly, still holding your hand. "Didn't think you'd come."

Art's eyes widen, "Are you kidding?" he's about to keep speaking, but his gaze merges with yours for a split second, and he shuts off. Dead. Silent. 

"—Stanford's a big deal, Tashi." Patrick interrupts, compensating for the awkwardness of Art's sudden number. "I had to drag this lazy fuck out of his bed, but we made it."

Suddenly, Art's out of the trance, tearing his blue eyes off you to bombard Patrick with a killer look. "Hey—shut up, Patrick."

Tashi sweetly, softly giggles at their word exchange. God, she's good, you think. Tashi turns to gesture to you, "This is my friend, Claire, by the way. She is visiting from the Mouratoglou Academy—

To be fair, Claire is a believable name.

"Wait, the Patrick Mouratoglou Academy? In France?" Art runs over Tashis's sentence, incredulously shooting you a broad-eyed glare. You nod in agreement, still processing you are having a civil conversation with Art Donaldson.

You feel Tashi squeezing your hand at your quietness.

"Yeah, you know it?" you timidly ask, forcing a polite smile that, if you were Art, you wouldn't buy it. But, of course, he's as dumb as a pigeon.

"Heck... Of course, I do. I wish I could go there."

Tashi smirks, enjoying the spectacle. 

Patrick’s investment in the conversation piques. "Mouratoglou, huh? That's impressive. Maybe we could hit the court sometime."

And that's the first time Patrick makes eye contact with you. He's stabbing you with his stare. You abruptly wonder if he's as dumb as Art, probably not. 

You squeeze Tashi's hand.

Tashi leans closer to Patrick, her voice dropping to a more intimate tone. "Hey, Pat... do you remember what you mentioned about erectile dysfunction? My aunt's a sexologist, I think—

Patrick loudly chuckles, apparently alarmed by the deficiency of filtering confidential information. "I need to smoke sum' stronger. Wanna come, Tash?"

Tashi purses her lips, casting a quick glance at you. "Sure."

Your point of view is like a sitcom scene, swiftly panning from Tashi's body leaving your radar to the boy in front of you, staring at you with soothing eyes and reddened cheeks. It's basically comical.

Art's eyes dart around the lively yard before landing back on you. He clears his throat. "So, uh, Claire? That's a cute name."

It takes tons of willpower not to drop the good girl act right there. You attempt to return the sentiment with a quirk on the corner of your lips. "I need to get a drink. Come with me?"

He shakes his head up and down, finding it easier than answering with words.

For the first time in a couple of months, the inside of Art's mind has more than a giant cardboard cutout of Tashi Duncan. He is in awe. 

You lead the way, weaving through clusters of drunk teenagers towards the house. You feel Art's gaze lingering on your back —or ass, you don't know—a magnetic pull that makes you hyper-aware of his presence.

You arrive in the kitchen and quickly grab a bottle of vodka, a can of soda, and a party cup. Art watches you closely with a look of hypnotic admiration as if you were concocting the most complicated cocktail in the world. You want to roll your eyes so badly.

"That dress looks amazing on you." Art blurts out, unable to contain his thoughts any longer. 

You look at him. Art is sitting on one of the high stools by the kitchen island, his elbow resting on the table's sleek surface, supporting his chin with his hand. There is a softness in his eyes completely foreign to you, an infrequent vulnerability that contrasts sharply with the characteristic asshole demeanor you remember.

To Art, you appear almost ethereal, like an ideal concept from a wet dream of his. His thoughts are a kaleidoscope of jumbled fragments of memory that make no sense. You look so familiar... but no. 

There's no way he would forget about you.

You glance up, a faint blush coloring your cheeks. "Thank you," you reply, handing him a drink.

Art sips on his red plastic cup, eyes hooked on yours. "So, uhm. I just realized I never introduced myself properly. Im Art—

"Yeah, Donaldson, I know." you cut him off, leaving him completely silent and confused. "I've seen you play. Not bad," you clarify, with an unconscious hint of pride in your voice.

Art's smile widens. "Wait, you've seen me play?" he exaggeratedly emphasizes me. 

You nod.

His eyes twinkle with excitement. There’s this sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "That's, uh, great. Next time you are watching, I'll play better..."

His innate nerdiness and try-hard flirtiness provoke nausea in you. If you didn't know him, it would be a different story. But seeing a former, intense crush who shamelessly bullied you for so long, giving you heart-shaped eyes...

It's fucking bizarre. And it pisses you off.

Art begins conversing about something else. You don't know what—tennis-related, maybe. You are not wearing earphones with noise cancellation, but you can't hear him anymore. It's a blur as his words course through one ear and depart through the other. Immediately. Your brain has simply blocked the action of listening to him.

You step closer, so close you can see the fine lines in his eyes, the flecks of green amidst the blue, with a hint of brown sectoral heterochromia on his right eye. You can smell the faint woody scent of his cologne, something spicy that makes you salivate. His lips keep moving, forming words that dissolve into the dim background noise. The music, the laughter, the chatter—they all blend into a distant hum.

Art's voice vanishes into oblivion as you fix your gaze on his mouth, the curve of his lips, the way they part and close as he speaks. "Art," you say, stopping him in his tracks.

His eyes flicker with uncertainty, puzzlement, and a spark of hope. His adam's apple throbs as he notices you staring at his lips.

You lean in, your breath mingling with his, your heart pounding in your chest. Your hand reaches up, fingers brushing against his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin and the slight stubble that prickles against your touch. Art's breath hitches, his eyes widening in surprise, but he doesn't pull away. Instead, he leans in, too.

Your lips crash against his. Although you don't want to make it weird, you fail. It's not a gentle kiss or a precious, out-of-a-book lips meeting. It's fierce, instructing, a clash of sour sentiments and intent. You pour all your frustration, your pent-up anger, and your fucked-up desire to overpower him into that kiss. 

Art's shock melts away and quickly replaces it with an appetite that matches yours. His strong arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, his body pressing against yours. The kiss deepens, his lips parting to allow your tongue to explore, to taste the unmistakable flavor of cigarette and cheap vodka. You can feel the warmth of his breath and the way his hands tighten on your waist. It's almost as if he's frightened you'll pull away at some point.

And you can only fantasize about the moment you walk away.

—but not yet. You push harder, your fingers tugging slightly in his messy strawberry-blonde hair. He lowly moans into your mouth, a sound that dispatches a shiver down your spine. His hands roam your back, tracing the curve of your spine and dangerously lowering to your ass level. There's a distress in his touch you never thought would come from him.

The way he's dissolving under your venomous touch is already a win for you. You've managed to put him under you. And it's intoxicating, this control you have over him, this ability to make him forget everything else.

You pull back, your lips hovering just above his. Art's eyes are half-lidded, his lips swollen and ridiculously red from the intensity of the kiss. He looks at you in pure infatuation, "What- I... Did I do something wrong?"

You press a finger to his lips, silencing him again. "Come with me."

You peek at the party going outside—most people are outside. The living room is nearly empty, with a few alcoholized individuals entering the country house to refill their drinks. It's perfect.

You take Art's hand, your fingers lacing through his, and you lead him toward the sectional, six-seat couch in the center of the living room. You push Art down onto the couch, and he complies without resistance, his lust-drunken eyes never leaving yours; he nearly chokes on his spit at the sight of you slowly straddling him, your knees sinking into the soft cushions on either side of his hips.

"Jesus, Claire—"

You get the ick at the roleplay name Tashi baptized you with. 

"Shh," you whisper, leaning in to brush your lips against his in a soft, teasing kiss. "You never shut up, Donaldson."

And that's odd for him. He gives it a second thought because he isn't aware of how much he has talked, but definitely not that much. 

The overthinking vanishes as soon as you begin to kiss him again, slowly at first, savoring the way his lips deliciously move against yours. Art's hands rest tentatively on your hips, his fingers twitching as if afraid to hold on too tight. You guide his hands around your waist, urging him to hold you closer. His grip tightens, and you can feel the heat of his palms through the delicate fabric of your black mini-dress.

A sigh rolls out from your throat when you perceive something hard putting pressure against your core —which, because of the dress, is only shielded by thin lace panties. The coarse fabric of Art's light denim jeans rubs splendidly against your pussy. 

A primitive groan slips out of Art's lips the moment you grind your hips against his clothed dick. Suddenly, he breaks the kiss, and his eyes wander downwards. "Shit— you'll kill me," he pants into your mouth.

You pull back slightly, looking into his eyes. They're dark with craving, his pupils dilated. "Then let me."

You are about to attack his lips again, but he hesitates. You tilt your head in confusion, murmuring a low what?

Art starts to speak, his voice shaky and breathless. "I... I was wondering if you wanted to go back to my hotel with me."

Before you can respond, Tashi suddenly appears in your vision behind Art's head. "Claire, there you are," she says, fucking loud with a knowing, manipulative smile on her lips. "Your dad called, he's outside."

You feel a surge of delicious triumph as you see the apparent dissatisfaction in Art's eyes. 

"Sorry, Art," you say, standing up and smoothing your dress. "Maybe another time."

There’s a raw sadness in his eyes, an almost childlike hurt that he can’t quite conceal. He isn't even drunk; he's fully conscious of the stunning girl he just met and now is evaporating as if she was going to turn into a wolf at midnight or something. 

As you are about to disappear from Art's vision, he shouts at you, "I'll see you later, right?"

But you don't answer.

Instead, you hurriedly walk with Tashi to reach the front yard. 

"I didn't lie about your dad being here, though," Tashi clarifies, pointing at the big Jeep parked in front of the country house.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding, a smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah, alright." You glance back at the house to ensure you are out of earshot. "I think fucking him would've been better. Do you think he's gonna remember about this tomorrow?"

"Oh, yeah. This is definitely gonna fuck his head up for a while." Tashi chuckles, "he's pretty obsessive."

You feel a swell of fulfillment at your best friend's words. "How obsessive?"

Tashi smiles. "A lot."

❀

[yuujispinkhair]

I WANNA BE YOUR ENDGAME – Chapter 04

🏒❤️ A Hockey Romance feat. modern!Sukuna

Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: College AU, Hockey AU, fluff + smut Playlist: I wanna be your Endgame Word Count: 5k Warnings: 18+, smut. This is a very smutty chapter. Lots of locker room sex with our favorite hockey player. Fuckbuddies to lovers. Reader is a creative writing student. Sukuna is an ice hockey player + history student. This story will have approximately 10 chapters. Minors don't interact. Header by me. Divider @/benkeibear

MASTERLIST

You have no idea how you became such a hockey fan. You try to tell yourself that you are just here because ice hockey is a fascinating sport. And the Tigers are your college's pride, so attending the games and cheering for the team is almost obligatory.

And cheer you do. Maybe a little too enthusiastic, anytime Sukuna scores a goal, or when he slams an opponent brutally into the boards, or when he skates as fast as lightning over the rink with that mad grin on his face.

There's a little voice in your head that whispers to you that maybe you aren't so much a hockey girl but rather a Sukuna girl. But this is a thought you try to push into the furthest back of your mind.

And after all, in your defense, Sukuna is the star player of the Tigers, and the whole arena cheers for him!

After the game, Sukuna skates past you and lifts a hand in greeting, smirking at you through the plexiglass and yelling over the loud noises of the arena,

"Good job today, my lucky charm!"

And you laugh and smile broadly at Sukuna, yelling back at him that he played really well. He flashes you a smile, and his cat-like eyes trail slowly over you with a smug expression.

You give him a little wave when Yuuji and Todo skate up to him and take him in the middle to do another round across the rink for the cheering fans in the stands. And your treacherous eyes follow Sukuna the whole time he is on the ice until he finally skates over to the player's bench to collect his stuff.

That's when you remember that you still have Sukuna's hoodie. The hoodie which feels so soft and warm and, which, to your utter embarrassment, you didn't take off for several days. But it's time to return it, or things will look strange. So you washed it and brought it along to the game. Even though you have this irrational fear that Sukuna can somehow read your mind and will know exactly what you did with his hoodie. You don't ever want him to find out. Even though you would love to know if Sukuna finds the thought of you wearing his clothes just as exciting as you do.

You follow Nobara into the lobby but touch her forearm lightly to make her turn around and look at you. You hold up the hoodie, informing her,

"I have to give that back to Sukuna. Can we wait for the players to come out?"

Nobara gives you an amused look, far too knowing for your taste. She huffs and crosses her arms in front of her chest,

"I won't waste my precious time waiting for some hockey boys."

She says the words hockey boys as if it is an insult. You sigh and are about to complain when she grins at you and adds,

"I have to hurry up, so I can take a shower before Maki comes over. But you can stay here and wait for your loverboy to come out!"

"Sukuna isn't my loverboy!"

"We'll see about that. Anyways. Have fun! I have to go!"

She waves at you and leaves you standing there while your heart is beating too fast and your face feels too hot at the implication that Sukuna and you could be lovers.

You sigh, looking around the lobby, trying to decide the best place to wait for Sukuna. You settle on making a left turn to walk down the corridor that leads toward the locker rooms. At least you can be sure you won't miss Sukuna this way.

The door to the men's locker room comes into view, and you slow down.

Suddenly, unbidden images of a shirtless Sukuna flood your mind. Sukuna changing, Sukuna half-naked, all buff muscles and tattooed skin. Sukuna in the shower. You feel a bit dizzy all of a sudden, and you shake your head as if it can help you get rid of those images.

Maybe it was a stupid idea to come here. Your mind keeps betraying you those last few days. Dirty thoughts about Sukuna haunt you night and day. Why does he have to be so sexy?

You lean against the wall, clutching Sukuna's hoodie to your chest as you wait. The minutes tick by, and you feel your nervousness grow. You are almost ready to bolt when you hear loud voices coming from the direction of the locker room, but before you can do so, the door gets pushed open, and you decide it would look weird if you run now, so you force yourself to stay, trying to look nonchalant as you turn your head to check if Sukuna is among the guys coming out of the locker room.

You spot pink hair and your heart jumps to your throat, but you realize a second later that it's Yuuji. The guys walk past you, casting curious glances at you, and you nod at them in greeting, smiling sheepishly as you mumble, "Good game."

The others walk past you, but Yuuji stops in front of you with a big smile on his face, greeting you as if the two of you are old friends.

It's kind of strange to look at Yuuji, seeing all the things that look exactly like Sukuna, the same tall and muscular build, the matching pink hair dye, the same face shape, the same way of cocking their heads. And at the same time, the twins look so different.

Sure, the face tattoos contribute a lot to the difference in appearance. But it's not just that. Sukuna and Yuuji give off completely opposite vibes. Their whole facial expression is different. While Yuuji smiles a bright sunshine smile that lights up every room, Sukuna walks around with that smug smirk on his face, always making you feel as if he is mocking everyone around him and thinking they are annoying little insects and nothing more.

While Yuuj's eyes have an almost golden glow and seem warm like honey, Sukuna's are that rich, deep maroon that seems so mysterious and almost devilish sometimes. His eyes always seem to be narrowed as if he is watching you closely, reading you like a book while he keeps his own soul carefully hidden, while Yuuji's eyes are big and open, and you feel like you can read every emotion he feels openly in his eyes.

Right now, those warm, brown eyes beam at you with a happy sparkle in them,

"You're waiting for my brother, right? You can go in! Sukuna is still in there."

Yuuji smiles his sunshine smile and jerks his head towards the door of the locker room. And you almost choke on your spit as you are quick to shake your head and splutter,

"Um... uh, thanks, but no. I will just wait here. I can't just go into the men's locker room."

Yuuji laughs, his eyes sparkling amusedly at you, and he shakes his head,

"No, it's okay! Trust me! Everyone else already left. It's only Sukuna in there. And he told me to send you to him."

What??

You stare at Yuuji with wide eyes.

"How did he know I would be here?"

Yuuji shrugs and scratches the back of his head a bit sheepishly,

"Kuna just knows things, I guess."

You blink at him but choose not to inquire any further. But your mind registers the nickname Yuuji uses for his brother. Kuna. It makes your stomach do a little flip for whatever reason.

You thank Yuuji and slowly make your way toward the locker room door, feeling as if you are in a daze.

You try to tell yourself you are only doing this because Yuuji is so nice, and you don't want to seem ungrateful, but deep down, you know that a part of you has longed to walk through that door ever since you came here. That part of you that keeps having dirty fantasies about Sukuna and is drooling over the thought of him coming out of the shower, wet and sexy and... You exhale sharply, forbidding yourself to think any further.

You stop in front of the door and cast one last glance over your shoulder at Yuuji, who nods encouragingly at you, and then you grab the door handle and push the heavy door open.

Steam greets you. Warm, humid air and a mix of sweat and various scented shower gels.

You gulp, feeling your heartbeat in your throat as the door closes behind you with a soft thud. You carefully take a few steps toward the lockers. The room looks pretty neat, probably because the team has already left. There is only one sports bag standing on the long bench, only one pair of grey sweatpants lying around, and a familiar pair of black and red Nikes waiting for their owner.

But there is no sight of him. Where is Sukuna? For a moment, you think you have fallen victim to some dumb prank, but then you hear it. The sound of running water.

Is he serious? He is still in the shower but tells me to come in here?

You feel so nervous all of a sudden, your head spinning with the thought of a very naked and very sexy Sukuna under the shower only a few meters away from you. It makes you turn on your heel, about to flee the locker room. But you get stopped by a familiar velvety voice that sounds far too smug,

"Already leaving, princess?"

You involuntarily jump, stopping in your tracks with your hand hovering just a few centimeters away from the door handle.

You gulp and slowly turn around again, pulse fluttering nervously as your gaze lands on Sukuna. He walks out of the locker room showers with only a white towel slung dangerously low around his narrow hips. His hair is still wet, looking dark pink instead of the usual light pink pastel tone. The wet strands hang into Sukuna's face, dripping water onto his broad, muscular chest, making small rivulets run down his firm pecs and abs.

He looks even better than in your fantasy. Tall and broad, with all those gorgeous muscles and sexy tattoos unashamedly on display. You can't stop yourself from letting your gaze follow some water droplets down his perfect body, over his buff pecs and taut abs and those two black lines that he has tatted onto his abdomen that disappear so tantalizingly in the low sitting towel, right next to his defined v-line.

You feel weak in the knees, your face burning, your heart hammering much too fast in your chest as you force yourself to tear your eyes away from Sukuna's naked chest and abs and instead lift your head to look into his amused maroon eyes.

"I... I have your hoodie."

You lift your hand that's holding the soft white sweater, and Sukuna's lips lift in that sexy smirk.

"Then why don't you bring it over to me?"

You don't even stop to think but automatically walk towards him as if he is pulling you toward him by some invisible string. As if you are caught in his web, but you don't even want to escape but want him to catch you and devour you.

You stop in front of him, your chest heaving heavily with your nervous breaths.

Sukuna is so tall, especially when you stand so close to him. You have to tilt your head back to look at his tattooed face, and it only adds to the excited tingle you feel buzzing in your veins. He is gorgeous. Tall and broad and sexy. And he knows it.

He smirks at you, a knowing glint in his beautiful maroon eyes as he takes the hoodie from you, his large, warm hand brushing over yours, cupping your hand a little too long.

And then he does something that makes you spin completely out of control.

He leans down to whisper in your ear, in that sexy bedroom voice,

"Good girl."

And his lips brush over your earlobe and then over your burning cheek. He is standing so close to you that you can feel his body heat emanating from him and smell his shower gel, sexy, fresh, and masculine.

When he pulls away, you are left staring at him with a dazed look and a wet patch in your panties.

Sukuna strolls casually over to his locker, slowly sitting down on the bench in front of it, and his maroon eyes never leave yours.

You feel trapped, unsure of what to do. You did what you came here for. You returned his hoodie. There is no reason for you to stay longer here in this locker room where you clearly shouldn't be, especially not when a fresh-out-of-the-shower hockey player is sitting here, about to get changed.

But there is another voice in your mind telling you that you are right where you should be. It's that voice that makes you take a tentative step toward Sukuna.

He is rubbing his hair with a second towel, ruffling the pink strands in the process, and you can't help but bite your lip at how attractive Sukuna looks. His thick tattooed biceps are flexed, his abs taut.

And then he spreads his thighs, making the towel split in the middle, revealing his muscular thighs, and you finally get a good look at the pair of tattooed bands high up on those gorgeous thighs, so sexy that it takes all in you, not to moan out loud. You want to curse yourself for the thoughts that run through your mind. The fantasy of being on your knees between those muscular thighs, licking and kissing those sexy tattoos, your mouth slowly trailing up higher.

You tear your gaze away, looking at Sukuna's face, not even trying to hide how affected you are by his half-naked body and the thick, steamy air in here that only adds to the atmosphere that's dripping with sexual tension.

Burning maroon eyes meet yours,

"Come here, princess."

Sukuna pats his thigh, leaving no doubt about what he means by "here."

You walk over to him without any hesitation this time, dropping your bag on the floor as you slip onto Sukuna's lap, straddling those muscular thighs as if this is the place you belong.

You are barely sitting on him when Sukuna's lips are already on yours, claiming them in a heated kiss that makes you gasp into his warm mouth. His large, strong hands are on your body, slipping around your waist and under your sweater, holding you, caressing your skin, and making your head spin. And Sukuna's tongue pushes hungrily into your mouth, flicking against your tongue in sexy caresses that make your pussy twitch.

Your hands tangle in his still-damp pink hair, tugging on it while you open your mouth eagerly and lick against Sukuna's skilled tongue, kissing him just as hungrily as he is kissing you, as if you want to devour each other.

Sukuna's large hands wander from your waist to your ass, kneading it firmly through your leggings, making you moan into the kiss and buck against him, gasping them you feel his hard cock press against you and hear his soft growl.

Your hands are wandering too, groping Sukuna's broad shoulders, caressing his buff pecs, digging your fingernails into his buff muscles, scratching them slightly, smiling when you hear Sukuna make a sexy little noise in the back of his throat, like a low purr.

You are grinding against each other desperatedlyy, your harsh breaths filling the locker room, making things even more humid and steamy. You don't even care that someone could walk in again. All you know right now are Sukuna's lips on yours, his tongue in your mouth, and the feeling of his muscles under your fingers while his calloused hands are wandering over your body.

Sukuna is bold, letting one hand slip between your legs and rubbing you through your leggings and panties. You push eagerly against his hand, seeking more friction, not caring about how horny and needy you must seem, like a cat in heat.

Your panties and leggings are soaked through as Sukuna rubs his thumb over your clit, making you whine into his mouth. Maybe you should be embarrsed by how wet you are for him, but you don't care. Your hands are on his abs, exploring his body, feeling dizzy when you feel his firm muscles flex under your hands. You are hungry, hungry for more, hungry for him.

Your fingers wander lower, making Sukuna groan into your mouth when you trace the tattoos on his abs down to where they disappear in the towel. You open the towel impatiently pushing it to the side, exposing all of Sukuna's naked body to your greedy touch.

Your hips jerk when you feel the velvety heat of Sukuna's thick cockhead brush against your hand. It drives you crazy with the need to touch him.

Sukuna hums against your lips when your small hand wraps around his thick long cock and slowly strokes up and down his whole hard length. He feels so good in your hand, hot and velvety, rock-hard muscle and smooth skin. Your mind is hazy, driven by pure need and desire. Driven by one thought alone: You want him inside you.

Sukuna seems to have the same train of thought because he is tearing at your leggings, breaking your passionate kiss to trail his lips over your neck and practically growl,

"Get those damn trousers off."

You help him with them, hastily pushing them down, followed by your completely soaked panties, only slipping out of one leg in your haste to get that gorgeous cock inside you.

Sukuna pulls you back onto his lap, just as impatient as you, making you sit on him again, your thighs spread widely, your naked dripping pussy rubbing against his hot cock. Sukuna bucks his hips slowly, watching you with those sexy maroon eyes as he teases your swollen clit with his thick cockhead, making you shiver and mewl loudly as you dig your nails into his broad neck and look down to see the hot and nasty sight of Sukuna's mushroom head caressing your clit, coating himself in your juices.

"Do you want it like that, princess? Or do you want more?"

"More! Oh fuck, Sukuna, I want more, please!"

Sukuna lets out a sound that will be on your mind forever, a mix of a laugh and a moan, so sexy and low that it makes your pussy clench around nothing.

"Then come and get it."

He looks at you with a challenging, sexy glint in his eyes, licking his lips. His large hand is wrapped around his gorgeous thick cock, pumping it slowly, rubbing a few drops of pearly pre-cum out of the swollen dark pink tip before his hand comes to rest around the thick base of his cock, as if he is presenting himself to you unashamedly. Proudly.

And yes, he can be proud of that cock. He is so thick and long and fucking gorgeous with that fat mushroom head that has such a pretty dark pink color, just like Sukuna's hair right now when it is still wet from the shower.

And he is so hard. It makes you moan softly, seeing how bad Sukuna wants you. Just as hard for you as you are wet for him.

Sukuna's broad, muscular chest is heaving while some stray water droplets slowly run down his smooth, tattooed skin, and he smirks that sexy smirk at you while holding his cock for you, offering it to you.

You feel like you have a fever when you place your hands on Sukuna's broad shoulders and position yourself over his gorgeous thick cock, while you feel your wild heartbeat in your chest and in your pussy.

Sukuna's breath is heavy, too, ghosting over your neck as he guides his mushroom head to your dripping hole, rubbing slow, teasing circles around it that make you mewl desperately.

You push down onto Sukuna's fat swollen cockhead, your eyes closing as you feel it split you open, so thick and hot.

You gasp when you sink down on him, feeling the burn of the stretch. Even though you are so wet and ready for him, it is still a foreign feeling to take such a thick cock. Your pussy automatically clenches around him, making Sukuna curse under his breath.

His lips are on your neck again, kissing and licking hungrily, while his large hands wrap around your waist, and you sink down further on him. A loud breathless moan falls from your lips when you finally sit all the way down, the back of your thighs resting completely on Sukuna's thighs, your pussy stuffed to the brim with his whole fat length, his heavy balls resting against your ass.

Sukuna's voice is low, dripping with sex,

"Fuck, yeah. Such a good girl, taking all of me. Come on, princess, fuck me. I played so well today. I deserve a little reward."

His words drive you crazy, making you moan and twitch, and you start moving on him, pushing yourself up and down on his thick cock, gasping at how full you feel.

Sukuna's calloused hands are on your ass again, kneading it and helping you ride him, lifting you up and down on his girthy length easily. His movements change the angle slightly, and you sob loudly when his mushroom head pushes against that sweet spot inside you that makes you tremble from how good it feels.

Sukuna laughs breathlessly against your neck,

"Aww, so cute. I found it, huh?"

Your hands tighten on his broad neck while you nod and whimper while desperately bouncing on Sukuna's cock, seeking more of that ecstatic feeling, not caring how needy you look.

But you aren't the only one who is getting lost in pleasure. Sukuna is groaning against your skin, too, sounding so sexy, making you ride him even harder. He bucks his hips fucking into you, making you giggle and whine at the delirious feeling of having Sukuna's dick inside you, hitting all the right spots.

You are both in a sex haze, your bodies moving greedily against each other while the obscene noises of uninhibited sex fill the locker room. Breathy moans and low growls, and the loud, wet slapping of skin against skin.

You are riding Sukuna wildly, all inhibitions gone, chasing your orgasm, sobbing because it feels so good. You know that it will happen, that Sukuna will make you cum with his cock alone. It's something no other guy ever managed before. But you can already feel your orgasm building inside you. You press your face against Sukuna's tattooed neck, leaving heated kisses on his sweaty skin. Your sobs turn into muffled squeals as you feel his fat mushroom head fuck you closer to ultimate bliss.

When it happens, you scream his name. Your pussy tightens around Sukuna, squeezing his cock, making you delirious with how taut your body gets, how your heart races, and your vision blackens. You shudder around Sukuna's thick cock, feeling tears run down your cheeks from how incredibly good it feels. You keep bouncing on him desperately, drawing the blissful feeling out, sobbing and crying as you ride out your whole orgasm on Sukuna's gorgeous cock.

"Fuck, princess!"

Sukuna's large hands tighten on your waist, and he pulls you up, lifting you off his cock as he hisses loudly, barely making it in time before he cums too.

He lets his head fall back, a low sexy groan falling from his lips as his eyes close and his broad body shudders, his buff muscles tensing up as he cums all over your belly and his abs, shooting his hot white cum all over both of you. You look at him with your mouth hanging open, moaning softly. Watching Sukuna cum is the hottest thing you have ever seen. He looks so beautiful, so sexy, with the way his eyes close and those sexy low groans fall from his parted lips.

You sit back on Sukuna's thighs, breathing heavily as you trail your gaze down to his lap, where Sukuna's tattooed hand is wrapped around his twitching cock, pumping it slowly, rubbing his whole orgasm out of his dick.

You can't stop yourself and reach out, joining him, wrapping your smaller hand around his hard length, too, so Sukuna and you stroke his cock together, milking his thick warm seed out of his twitching mushroom head. The locker room is filled with both of your breathy moans and your muttered, "Oh damn, this is so hot," when you feel Sukuna's warm cum run down your hand.

Sukuna laughs, a sexy low rumble, and you manage to tear your gaze away from his cock and his cum on your hand and look at his face instead. He is smiling lazily at you, maroon eyes almost black with how dilated his pupils are.

Sukuna grabs your hand and pulls it off his spent cock and brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it, grinning at you as he flicks his tongue over a small trickle of his cum.

Your head is spinning as you stare at him. He is so nasty, and it drives you crazy, makes you want to kiss him and fuck him until the sun rises!

But you are gradually coming down from your post-orgasmic bliss, becoming too aware of your current position, half naked on Sukuna's lap with your wet pussy drooling over his muscular thighs, the sticky feeling of his cum on your belly, where your sweater rode up while riding him. You feel too exposed suddenly and scramble hastily to get off Sukuna's lap, almost slipping down, but strong hands catch you.

Sukuna helps you climb off his lap, surprisingly gentle, steadying you with his large hands and only letting go when he sees you are able to stand on your trembling legs.

You feel your face burn again as you take the towel Sukuna hands you to wipe his cum off your belly before you pull your sweater down again. There's an awkward silence when you step into the left leg of your panties and leggings again and jump a bit to pull them up while Sukuna is behind you, rummaging around in his locker.

Luckily, he is already in his sweatpants and is shrugging into his t-shirt when you turn around. You almost can't look at him, feeling so embarrassed by what the two of you just did. That unrestrained, primal fucking right here in the middle of the locker room, where anyone could have walked in at any moment.

You wring your fingers nervously, slowly backing away towards the door. But Sukuna's low voice stops you,

"Don't forget your hoodie."

You frown at him in confusion,

"What? That is your hoodie. I gave it back to you..."

But Sukuna just smirks that infuriatingly attractive smirk and cocks his head, maroon eyes sparkling with mischief,

"I never said I wanted it back, did I? Keep it. I have enough other team hoodies. And I like the way it looks on you."

"Oh... okay... thanks."

You barely have time to bring up your hands to catch the soft white hoodie that Sukuna is throwing in your direction as he laughs softly. He joins you a moment later, having finished getting dressed and slinging his sports bag over his broad shoulder.

You feel flustered just from looking at him right now. But contrary to you, Sukuna is all unbothered and confident, completely unashamed about how you fucked each other's brains out just a few minutes ago.

He holds the door open for you with a wide grin on his handsome face, all gentlemanly, letting you walk through the door before he falls in step beside you, so tall and big next to you that it makes your pulse flutter, especially now that you know how he looks naked and how he feels under your touch, how he feels inside you.

You barely resist the urge to bury your burning face in your hands.

Sukuna pulls a battered pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his jacket and casually lights a cigarette behind his large hand, taking a deep drag and sighing contentedly as he turns to you with a grin, blowing the smoke out in your direction.

"That was a nice victory fuck, princess. You are really a top-tier lucky charm."

And you still splutter and stumble over your words when Sukuna is already lightly jogging towards the street corner leading to his and Yuuji's apartment. The last thing you see of him is a wink and another sexy smirk.

You take forever to walk home, taking a detour through the park and around the baseball pitch because you need to calm down and clear your thoughts before you face your roommate.

Pictures of Sukuna's muscles and tattoos flash before your eyes, the sounds of his low groans, the feeling of his cock stretching you out. You gulp hard. You can still feel him. Hell, you will probably still feel the slight burn of his thick cock for the whole next day! It makes you press your legs together, which only makes your face heat up more when you feel the uncomfortable sensation of your soaked panties. You think you never were that wet for a guy before.

You groan in annoyance even as a giggle bubbles out of your mouth, and you shake your head in total disbelief at what you did today.

When you finally step into your apartment, you get greeted by a glaring Nobara with her hands on her hips.

"Where were you all this time?"

And you slip out of your shoes, grinning from ear to ear, barely able to keep yourself from laughing hysterically,

"In the men's locker room. With Sukuna."

You can't suppress your laughter anymore as you quickly run to the bathroom, locking yourself in there while Nobara screams outside the door,

"You were WHAT!!??"

GRRRRR I WANT HIM SO BAD 😵😵❤️❤️

I hope you enjoyed your little trip to the locker room ;) I was losing my mind the whole time while writing this!!

Thank you so much for all the lovely feedback on the story so far!! It means a lot to me that you like Hockey Player!Sukuna ❤️❤️

Reblogs and comments would be very sweet!

In Chapter 5, Sukuna and Reader decide to become fuckbuddies.

[singmyaubade]

in love with my bullies

warning: mentions of smut : throatfucking, p in v bullying, and cursing

sypnosis : the marauders bullied you, tortured you. what will happen when you finally stick up for yourself?

dark!poly!marauders x female!reader

pacing is horrible in this story, ik but i was writing it while listening to music LMAO. did not proofread btw..

once again, here you were.

washing green slime gunk out of your hair in the abandoned bathrooms due to another marauders prank that was only towards you.

somehow their pranks always involved washing something out.

you tried your best to not be bothered or even show any sign of disdain in your face but this had really pissed you off.

it was relentless.

everyday, every hour, every minute, every second. the marauders would continue to bully you for no reason other than you being a slytherin.

but you would think that since there are so many slytherins, you wouldn't be top pick. you were quiet, kept to yourself, and never tried to go noticed in a huge crowd.

yet all the marauders did was pick you out and torture you.

the only one that showed you mercy was peter, he usually hung out with his girlfriend and never paid you much attention.

you thought it would be remus since he had a reputation for being mature and kind-hearted but even he showed you no mercy.

it's not like you could ask for any help, you didn't have a lot of friends that could help and even though you were a pureblood, the pureblood slytherins didn't accept you because of you family not helping the dark lord.

it wasn't easy.

and even though you tried to reason with them, they refused due to the fact you believed in 'blood supremacy' and you thought muggles 'deserved hell' which was complete rumors and you didn't believe that at all.

and now it was time to go back to class and the slimy substance had yet to disappear on your head. you then tried several spells in order to get it out of your hair and one had worked, getting whatever you couldn't.

you performed a drying spell before exiting out of the bathroom. you stepped out to see three out of the four marauders laying on the left of the wall with a smirk embroided on their face.

you scoffed, trying to move elsewhere.

"was that a scoff i heard?" james asked, stepping towards you with intimidation.

you never tried to look scared but you could tell it was painted all over your face.

"just let me go." you said, whimpering a little.

"aww," sirius stood in front of you, "are you gonna cry?" he asked, mocking you.

"i think she is." james replied in the same tone.

you looked over to remus who was looking at the entire situation with a look of entertainment and interest.

"fuck you." you spat, stepping face to face with james.

"don't say something you'll regret." he responded in a dark tone as you moved to step backwards but sirius was suddenly behind you.

you tried to carry a strong look on your face but they could tell you were easily intimidated.

"if you wanna go so bad," remus stood off of the wall and toward you, "all you have to say is please." his pointer finger holding up your chin.

you knew you wouldn't be able to move without doing as he asked.

"please," you whispered, locking in his eye contact, eyes watering.

"please what?" remus asked.

"please let me go." you said.

"good girl," he complimented, "that's all you had to say."

"you just have to be good, bunny." sirius whispered in your ear, feeling his hot breath down your neck, hand holding your waist.

in this moment, you were glad this was an abandoned hallway.

the worst part was, you wanted sirius to touch you more, aching for relief in your core.

you couldn't stop the butterflies in your belly nor the vibration in your entire body, it was as if you could feel all of your sense ten times more especially in your cunt.

your eyes were even getting blurry as if you were stuck in a trance.

you suddenly snapped back to reality to realize there was nobody around you, remus's eye contact, sirius's hand on your shoulder and james's stern tone, all gone.

it was all as if you had imagined it and the only thing that argued with that was the vibration throughout your body.

you had decided to take the rest of the day off, going to your dorm.

you entered your dorm to see your best friend, riley.

"i looked for you everywhere!" riley yelled, hugging you, "i gave them each a piece of my mind before i went to look for you." she looked into your eyes.

"it's fine riles, you know they are assholes." you said, half smiling.

"i'll kill them if you want me to, seriously," she said, knowing she wasn't joking.

you laughed it off, going to fix your bed.

"soooo," riley said, "there's a party tonight."

"where?" you asked.

a moment passed, "gryffindor."

you rolled your eyes, "no."

"cmon y/n!" she sat on your bed, "you can not let your fear of the marauders stop you from going to a party?"

"that's not it!" you said, still fluffing your pillow, "slytherin's aren't allowed at gryffindor parties."

"im pretty sure that rule only applies to the malfoys, dolohovs, blacks, and every dark lord supporter," riley said.

"they still hate me." you replied.

"only the marauders," she convinced.

"and they run that house," you argued.

"no they don't, most people think they are irritating." riley said factually.

"please don't make me go." you groaned.

"for me, please." riley pouted.

"don't do the puppy dog eyes," you groaned as she continued doing it, "fine, i'll go." you said, riley yelling excitingly and smothering you.

"can i still wear this?" you asked through her screaming.

she stopped and looked at you in disappointment, "y/n, i know i am not best friends with a vulture."

you giggled as riley went to her closet and picked out a red dress that was a little too short for your liking.

"this will hug your shape perfectly!" riley squeaked and went inside the bathroom before you could even give a response.

after a couple hours, you and riley were both finally done getting ready. she looked at you in total shock, "y/n, you look so fucking hot right now. and i mean that in the gayest way possible." her mouth open.

your entire face turned blush pink, "not too bad yourself riley." you laughed.

"let's go." riley suddenly rushed, grabbing your hand, practically dragging you to the gryffindor common room.

you couldn't hear anything from outside but you guessed it was a silencing charm.

you heard riley mutter the password before the dark opened and you saw students from each house having the time of their lives and the music was outrageously blasting.

riley grabbed your hand, dragging you through as the door closed.

you looked around to see if you could spot any of the marauders, only finding peter dancing with his girlfriend.

it was like you were a bunny in a room with foxes that you couldn't distinguish.

"let's dance!" riley shouted, making you look at her.

you shook your head but riley rolled her eyes and dragged you on the dance floor.

she started dancing but it's like she could feel your awkwardness as she grabbed your hips, moving your body with hers to the rythym.

eventually, you decided to just let go and try to enjoy yourself.

after about two or three songs, you had told riley that you were going to get a drink and asked if she wanted any but she was already making out with a hufflepuff girl and only swatted her hand.

you laughed, moving over to the drinks table.

you poured yourself some firewhisky when you felt someone roughly grab your wrist.

you turned around to see three of the marauders with james having a hold of your wrist to which you scoffed, yanking your wrist back.

"can you guys seriously fuck off for one night?" you sighed.

"have you forgotten yourself?" remus genuinely asked.

this was the night to stick up for yourself.

"have you?" you argued, "you all are fucking pathetic," you laughed humorlessly to which you could feel their anger radiating onto you, "i pray for the poor bastards who end up being your children if you all can even have any when your too busy sucking eachothers cocks," you insulted, "but if you don't me, i am going to go bed because you have unfortunately ruined this party for me." you shoved past them harshly, leaving the common room.

adrenaline was bouncing off of you, a new high you had never felt before. you were even partly turned on by the whole encounter.

you were even surprised they had let you pass

you speedwalked through the hallway in victory, you felt like you had finally won, that you had finally got a one up off of them.

you had yet to realize that the hallways were dark with a little bit of moonlight pouring through and you couldn't navigate your way due to you leaving your wand in your dorm.

you went to turn back to the common room but bumped into a hard surface to which you looked up to see remus lupin.

your heart skipped a beat as he roughly put his hand around your neck, shoving you into a wall. he was squeezing not enough for you to go unconcious but enough for you to not be able to take full breaths.

"what happened to your voice sweetheart?" he said as you croaked, "what happened to that dirty mouth?" you tried slapping off his hand but he only pushed you further into the wall.

you looked to both of your sides to see james and sirius.

"what do you think boys?" remus asked, "think she deserves to be punished?"

your eyes opened wider as you tried to make a sound but it came out in little squeaks.

"i think she does moony, i think we have given her too much freedom." sirius responded.

"yeah, i think we might have to fuck her into obedience." james said, inching closer.

even you couldn't stop the wet patch in your panties.

"i think that's what she wants, i mean let me check." remus said as confusion painted your face.

you felt him raise your dress up, hand now in your panties as you moaned.

"she's soaking wet," remus scoffed, "turns out to be a little slut after all."

you felt remus start rubbing your clit as you moaned more, his grip on your neck never softening.

you and remus staring at each other as james whispered something in his ear and he nodded.

he suddenly took his hand out of your panties, your entirety angry at his lack of letting you release.

he put your hands behind your back, leading you somewhere you couldn't figure out. there was a haze in your eyes that made it impossible for you to see a thing.

you heard a door close as you looked around, it was james's prefect dorm.

before you could grasp onto your reality, james put his mouth onto yours, bruising your lips as you moaned into his mouth.

you tried catching your breath but james was relentless, not letting you go.

you could feel sirius behind you, sucking hickeys onto your neck, knowing it would leave spots.

you couldn't even spot remus in the room due to all of the pleasure you felt.

sirius was unzipping your dress, letting it fall onto the ground. james was working your bra, letting it fall to the ground as he nibbled on your nipple.

sirius pulled your panties down, lifting your legs out of them.

suddenly, they both stopped touching you which made you whimper.

"on your knees bunny." sirius instructed as you obeyed almost immediately.

remus came into view, stepping in front of you.

"are you gonna suck my cock nice bunny?" remus asked, tipping your head up to look at him using his pointer finger.

you nodded immediately.

"good girl." he complimented which sent you into orbit.

he stroked his cock in his pants, bringing it out. his cock sprung up out of his boxers, pre-cum leaking off of his tip.

you licked stripes onto his tip causing him to groan.

"don't tease bunny." he moaned which caused you took his entirety into your mouth, gagging. he ponytailed your hair from going into your face using his hand.

you were still looking up at him as he threw his head back in pleasure, "so fucking good bunny," he praised you which sent tingles in your cunt, "sucks cock like a fucking champ,"

you looked over to see james and sirius jerking off to the sight in front of them.

before he could come, remus pulled you off of his cock, standing you up.

he took off his boxers fully, laying on the bed, reaching for you to climb on top of him.

you put your knees on the side of his hips as he stroked himself a bit and aligned himself up to your cunt.

you sank down on his cock with a moan, trying to fully adjust yourself. both of his hands were on your hips, speeding you up slowly.

you felt a mouth on your neck, sucking. the pleasure hitting you rapidly.

suddenly, remus pulled your head down to kiss you, his hand gripped on your neck while roughly fucking you.

you felt someone prodding into your ass before slipping inside. you moaned loudly into remus's mouth.

"bunny, don't tense." james said and you knew he was the one prodding. he went slowly but every time he went in, you sank down on remus's cock which made immediate pleasure shoot inside of you.

"you feel so fucking good," remus complimented, sucking harsh bruises onto your skin.

"so fucking good." james murmured.

both of their words praising you made you almost come on sight.

you were so cock drunk, babbling about how close you were. your eyes were watering due to the amount of pleasure you were receiving.

what made you crazier was sirius putting your mouth on his cock, throat fucking you while your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

your spit dribbling off of your chin as tears rained on your cheeks.

remus sucked on your nipple as your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

their words muffled in your eyes.

remus and james had both cum inside of you which caused your first orgasm, moaning loudly, barely able to see due to the pleasure you were recieving.

sirius pulled out of your mouth as you gasped for air, throat being a bit hoarse.

james pulled out of you, delivering a kiss to your neck as a thank you.

your chest dropped to remus's chest as he pet your hair and praised you, "come one more time for me bunny?"

you babbled something while nodding your head which gave sirius permission to slide into your ass.

remus continued holding your head, eyes on his, admiring you.

"i love you bunny." he said before kissing you but this time more softly and delicately.

remus didn't give you the choice whether to say it back or not but you didn't know if he was being genuine or not.

sirius continued pounding into you but you were only able to whimper based on how cock drunk you were.

he praised you, telling you how good you were while remus massaged your puffy clit.

sirius came soon with you as your entire body felt exhausted. remus pulled you off of him as james grabbed a wet towel and wiped your legs and mouth. you winced as he brushed your clit, being hyper sensitive.

remus laid you down into james's bed, putting the blanket over you, kissing your head as you closed your eyes.

you didn't know what you were sure,

that you were in love with your bullies.

[thewidowsledger]

Look Out For That Rage

© thewidowsledger 2024 - DO NOT REPUBLISH AND PLAGIARISE

Pairings: Avenger Natasha Romanoff x Agent Female Reader

Word count: 5.6k

Tags | Warnings: +18, pregnant reader, pregnancy rage, emotional wreck r, sleepy r, jealousy, puking, weird food cravings, weird pregnancy cravings in general not just with food👀 r being obsessed in watching Natasha eat🥴 watching you eat…is so exciting ‘cause nobody else does- S.J.

Author's Note: This part can be boring, just highlights the weird pregnancy cravings that were actually referenced by my cousin's weird cravings and needs when she was pregnant. And I also watched and researched some pregnancy experiences on TikTok so if you find them weird, just scroll away. If I would have a weird food craving it will definitely be vanilla ice-cream and I will dip nuggies and fries to it, what's yours? xD

MINI SERIES: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

⧗

“Aunt Y/N wants Uncle Thor in her bedroom.” Morgan mumbled innocently and everyone's attention honed in on her.

Natasha immediately tensed, her eyes widening with disbelief and possessiveness.

“Why on earth does she want Uncle Thor in our bedroom?”

⧗

You abruptly woke up, feeling a wave of nausea wash over you. Your stomach churned uncomfortably, and the overwhelming sensation of being sick forced you to scramble out of bed and rush to the bathroom. You barely made it to the toilet in time, hunching over and vomiting repeatedly.

The absence of Natasha only heightened your emotions, and tears welled up in your eyes. You clutched the edge of the toilet, the solitude only adding to your already distressed state.

You looked back in the bedroom in desperation, searching for any sign of your girlfriend, but she was nowhere to be found.

“Natty?” you called out for her, weak and nauseous, your voice growing more desperate with each hoarse call. “Nat?”

“Lybov?” Wanda called on the door. She heard you call for Natasha with a hoarse voice, panic instantly shot through her and she flung open the door to the bathroom, only to find you hunched over the toilet retching and weeping.

Kneeling beside you, she gathered your hair away from your face and held it in a ponytail, gently rubbing soothing circles to soothe your upset stomach.

After what felt like an eternity, the last wave of nausea finally subsided, and you collapsed against Wanda, your body weak and shaky. She held you close, her arms wrapping around you protectively as she murmured soothing words into your ear.

“It's alright, I’m here.”

Wanda gently took a tissue from the nearby countertop and carefully wiped your mouth, gently removing any remaining vomit. The overwhelming smell of your own vomit caused your stomach to churn once more. She looked down at you as you looked up at her. For a brief moment, you suddenly broke down, a sob escaping your lips, raw and uncontrollable. Your tears spilled from your eyes, and you huddled against your best friend, your body shaking with the force of your crying. Your sobbing grew more intense, Wanda's panic rose, her heart aching at the sight of your distress. She held you tighter, her arms wrapping around you protectively as she tried to soothe your anguish.

“Shh, shh, it's alright,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “I've got you, lyubov. I've got you.”

Wanda eased you back onto the bed, her gentle touch guiding you carefully. Just as you leaned against the pillows, the door creaked open, and Natasha appeared, a tray in her hands. She carried a plate of freshly cooked pancakes, topped with a generous dollop of strawberry jam, the aroma of sweetness filling the room. It was your favorite that she always made but right now you fought hard not to want to eat it.

“I want to sleep.”

Natasha, despite the tension in the air, gently insisted, “Detka, you need to eat.”

Wanda remained standing awkwardly in the room, caught in the middle of the tense exchange between you and Natasha. Her eyes darted between the two of you, unsure of what to do or say to ease the mounting tension. But one thing for sure is that she likes how you’re being stubborn and hard with your girlfriend, as you should, she said in her mind.

Natasha picked up the plate of pancakes, but you only huffed in response trying to fight the sweet aroma wafting through the air as she held it out towards you.

“No!” you tucked yourself back in the bed covering your whole body so you wouldn't get the smell of the freshly cooked pancakes.

“Give it to me.” Natasha's grip on the plate of pancakes tightened at Wanda's words. She despised the idea of you listening to Wanda instead of her, she’s your girlfriend for god’s sake. But knowing that this is the only way to ensure you'll eat, she reluctantly handed over the plate to Wanda, her expression betraying her frustration and jealousy.

“I think Y/N would appreciate it if you go out that door right now,” she tried to soften the blow with a gentle smile, but Natasha knew that the witch was really trying to get into her. It took all her self-control to suppress her initial reaction of anger. Instead, she simply nodded tight lipped, biting back any biting retorts that threatened to spill from her lips.

Natasha looked at the comforter you're hiding from, “Detka, please eat. I’ll be right back.” You only huffed, rolling your eyes beneath the thick blanket.

As soon as your girlfriend was out of the door. Wanda sat on your bed, she made sure that she's not sitting on your leg. “Lyubov, I know you're hungry.”

“No, I’m sleepy. I don't want to eat.” You groggily respond, trying your best to keep yourself awake.

“I know you're sleepy, I know you're tired, but that's all the more reason to eat something. You need to keep your strength up, especially now that you're pregnant. Think of the baby. The baby needs you to eat and be healthy.”

“Lyubov?” Wanda called again, as she waited for a response. But when she heard nothing, she carefully peeked over the blankets. There she saw you, fast asleep, your face relaxed and peaceful in slumber. She let out a sigh and carefully, she tucked the comforter around you, making sure to leave your head free from its cozy confines.

Wanda gently set the plate back down on the tray beside your bed and covered it. She looked at you for a moment, her heart filled with affection as she watched you sleep. Without a sound, she then quietly left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

“Did she eat?” Natasha inquired as soon as she saw Wanda, she was actually waiting for her but Wanda remained silent, her expression betraying nothing. Natasha took that as a sign and a smug look at her face, confirming her suspicion that you also didn't listen even to your best friend. Wanda saw the look on Natasha's face and immediately felt the need to defend herself.

“She fell asleep immediately,” Wanda finally spoke up, annoyed by Natasha's reaction.

A heavy silence fell over the two of them after Wanda's words. Natasha fidgeted nervously, her eyes darting around the room while Wanda was preparing herself some orange juice. The weight of the silence became unbearable and finally, Natasha broke it.

“Wanda, I know I messed up with Y/N and I know you're upset about it. I want to fix things and make it up to her, but I can't do that if you're constantly standing in my way.”

Natasha continued, her voice growing more earnest and frustrated. “Please, Wanda. I apologize for hurting your friend, let me fix my mistake. I care about your best friend deeply, and I don't want to lose her love because I was a stupid. I know I screwed up, but I promise I'll do better. Just give me a chance.”

Wanda's gaze softened just a bit as she saw the sincerity in Natasha's eyes, but she still wasn't fully convinced. As your friend or best friend, she needed to look out for you and make sure you weren't hurt again.

“Do you remember what I said to you through comms?” the witch asked.

“I do,” Natasha replied, “you'd kill me if anything happened to Y/N and the baby.”

Wanda hummed, “Good, you remember. I want you to keep that in mind,” she firmly reiterated before exiting the kitchen leaving your girlfriend alone.

⧗

After an hour of peaceful sleep, you finally stirred, slowly opening your eyes. This time, there was no lingering dizziness or nausea, but a nagging hunger pang made itself known in your stomach. You sat up in bed, groggily rubbing your eyes, your thoughts immediately turning to the need to satisfy your appetite.

You remembered the pancakes your girlfriend made for you. There, you noticed the tray that Natasha had brought earlier, adorned with the pancakes still waiting for you.

Hungry and eager, you picked up the plate of pancakes and began devouring the.. The taste of sweetness and warmth filled your mouth with each bite, each mouthful satisfying the ache in your stomach. You could feel the texture of the pancakes, the sticky sweetness of the fresh strawberry with the syrup mingling with the fluffy softness as you hurriedly finished each bite. Within a matter of minutes, you had nearly cleaned the whole plate, no crumbs and syrup marks remaining.

Natasha slowly eased open the door, peeking her head into the room. You glanced up at her briefly, your expression flat as you remained in bed. Your bad mood was evident, and you made no attempt to acknowledge her presence. She entered the room quietly, sensing your mood but still approaching you anyway.

Natasha tried to engage you in conversation, her voice gentle and careful.

“Hey, detka. Did you have a good sleep?”

You don't know why you are being like this, but you cannot actually stand the presence of your girlfriend. Is it because of the other night? Maybe. Is it because earlier that she was nowhere to be found when she literally said that she'll be here for you? Maybe.

Your cold attitude was evident as you placed the plate back on the tray with a loud thud, the sound so forceful and sharp that one might worry it had been broken.

Natasha flinched at the noise, her eyes widening slightly as she watched you set the plate down. Your irritation was palpable, and even the harsh sound you made didn't seem to bring you any satisfaction.

“You finished the pancake, I see,” she winced. You met her gaze with a raised eyebrow and crossed arms, your expression unamused and aloof.

“Can you not talk?” you demanded.

Natasha tried to soothe you, but she was quickly cut off by your next outburst.

“Det—”

“Can you not breathe?” you continued, your voice getting louder to Natasha's liking. Your girlfriend was taken aback by your demand but held her breath instinctively.

“Can you just…just leave?!” you finally shouted as you flail your hands, your demand and mood only worsening.

And with that your girlfriend hurriedly made her way out of the room. Natasha gasped for air, her breaths coming out shaky and fast. The redhead was terrified to do anything that might only fan the flames of your mood.

“Hey Auntie Nat.”

“Fuck!” Natasha hissed in surprise as she heard a small voice call her name. She looked down to see Morgan standing in front of her, startled by the unexpected presence of the child. Her heart was still racing from your mood swings and the sight of Morgan only made her gasp for air once more.

Natasha took a deep breath to calm herself, and a slight smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she looked down at her goddaughter. “Hey, kid whatchu here for?”

Morgan's small voice piped up, “I wan’ see Aunt Y/N.”

Natasha quickly shifted gears, determined not to let the kid witness your moodiness. So the redhead found herself awkwardly explaining to Morgan that you are not in a good mood right now, trying to skirt around the truth in a way that the kid would understand. But Morgan, being a curious and innocent kid, kept firing off questions.

“Aunt Y/N is resting now.” Natasha started.

“Is she sick?” the kid asked, her voice full of innocent confusion. “I really wan’ see her.” she pouts.

“No, no, she's not sick,” Natasha replied immediately, “Well, she was.”

“She was sick?” Morgan repeated Natasha's words, still puzzled and now worried for you.

Natasha bit her lip, mentally sighing at the kid's persistence. She’s trying to remain patient despite the barrage of questions.

“Okay…” Natasha sighed kneeling in front of the kid, “You see, your Aunt Y/N is sick, but she's getting better,” Natasha said, she pushed some hair on the kid’s face using her slender fingers, “but she's very sensitive right now, and seeing people might stress her out. So it's best if we don't disturb her…for now.”

Natasha paused, Morgan always wanted to go to the compound’s gym but her father didn't want her to see the team training and sparring there. The redhead was quick to ask the little Morgan, “What about we go to the gym?”

The kid thought about it for a brief moment, her enthusiasm momentarily diminished as she thought of you. She had brought lots of hair ties, ribbons and hair brushes to play with you, and she’s really excited to see you. So when the kid hesitantly nodded Natasha smiled at her, and she reached out to pinch her cheek affectionately before she took Morgan's hand in hers, her small fingers intertwining the redhead’s.

As the two were making their way to the gym, they happened to bump into Maria.

“Nat!” Maria called. “How are you? How's Y/N and the little bean?”

“We’re all okay, how's your shoulder?” Natasha asked her partner, inquiring about her injury that she had during the last mission.

The two fell into a deep conversation, neither of them noticed Morgan carefully slipping away from Natasha’s grasp. She quietly tiptoed down the hallway, her small feet barely making a sound as she moved towards your room.

You were lying on your bed, your mind in a storm of mixed emotions, when you heard the distinct sound of the door handle turning. At first, you only saw the door opening with no one at the entrance. But then, your gaze shifted downward and your eyes landed on the small figure of Morgan, standing at the doorway.

Immediately, a warm smile spread across your face as you saw Morgan standing at the door. You sat up in bed, your expression softening.

“Hi little girl,” you said in a gentle voice as if you didn't sound like a dragon shouting at your girlfriend earlier. You patted the spot on the bed next to you. “What are you doing here?”

Morgan, who's very excited to see you eagerly trotted into the room, her small feet pattering against the floor. She climbed up onto the bed and sat next to you. The kid looked up at you, her small frame barely taking up any space on the bed. “I wanted to see you,” she said, her voice filled with eagerness.

Morgan's simple but heartfelt confession touched your heart, melting away some of the storm emotions you're feeling a while ago. You smiled at her, your eyes softening as you looked down at the sweet little kid sitting beside you.

“Aww, that's really sweet of you. I'm glad you came to see me. Whatchu got there, Morgan?” You reached out and ruffled her hair affectionately.

Morgan's eyes lit up as she showed you the set of cute ties, a variety of ribbons, glittered hairpins and mini scrunchies and hair brushes she had brought with her.

“I brought it so we can play salon,” she said, her tone filled with innocent eagerness.

“Want me to tie your hair?” You asked and the kid’s small head nodded enthusiastically, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

With a gentle smile, you patted your lap, she quickly moved to settle onto your lap comfortably. You began to sift through the hair ties and brushes that she had laid out before you, asking her which one to use first and the ones she likes.

You started to tie Morgan's hair, she couldn't help but giggle with excitement. Every now and then, she would let out a small gasp or a squeal as you pulled a lock of hair into place. She occasionally turned her head to look up at you with a big smile on her face, expressing her joy at the play time you were having together.

After completing the hairstyle, you reached over to your bedside table and pulled out a small compact mirror. You handed the mirror to the little girl sitting on your lap, a smile on your lips.

“Look at that!” You beamed, “You look so beautiful, little miss Potts!”

Morgan took the mirror and looked at her reflection, her eyes widening with delight. She admired the hairstyle you had just done for her, her hand touching the butterfly clips curiously.

“Thanks aunt Y/N!”

“You're welcome,” you squeak, poking Morgan’s cheek that made her giggle, “Can you call uncle Thor for me? Love?”

The kid eagerly nodded and immediately sprinted towards the door.

“Careful love!” You yelled out to her.

⧗

“So? What's up with Y/N?”

“She doesn't want me to breathe,” Natasha sighed plopping herself to the sofa and that made the team burst into laughter.

Natasha's face scrunched up slightly as she spoke, “I didn't know that being angry when your partner is breathing was included in the package deal of pregnancy.”

Clint held his hands up, trying to contain his laughter, “Ah, pregnancy rage. It's a thing alright.”

“Laura, you know,” he started, laughing between his words, “One minute, she would be laughing uncontrollably at my joke, and the next, she would be yelling at me for forgetting to put the toilet seat down. I swear, I slept on the couch more during those nine months than I ever did!”

Thor clapped a hand on Natasha's shoulder, his voice filled with booming Asguardian laugh. “That’s not pregnancy rage, it's the joys of pregnancy!”

Maria smiled warmly at her partner, “Just be patient with her,” she suggested gently.

“I won't get tired, I don't have the reason to,” she asserted. A slight smile tugged at her lips as she continued, “In fact, I find it cute and scary. I can handle it.”

“Oh wait until she makes you sleep on the floor or couch, I’m here when you have back pains already.”

As the conversation continued, the group's attention was abruptly interrupted and it was none other than Morgan, who came charging into the room with a big smile on her face.

“Uncle Thor, Uncle Thor!”

Thor chuckled as Morgan practically threw herself at him, his strong arms effortlessly catching the little girl.

“Morgan, you ditched Auntie Nat, where did you go?” she asked, pouting at the girl. Then, noticing the girl's hair, she added, “And your hair looks so beautiful!”

“Auntie Y/N did my hair!” the little girl announced proudly, her face lit up with a bright smile.

Clint suddenly spoke up, a puzzled look on his face. “Wait, Nat,” he began. “I thought Y/N is in a bad mood and doesn't wanna see people. How come she did Morgan's hair?”

“Oh no, I think Y/N only doesn't wanna see Nat…” she whispered, her teeth grazing her lower lip as she looked at her partner.

“Aunt Y/N want Uncle Thor in her bedroom.” Morgan mumbled innocently and everyone's attention honed in on her.

Natasha immediately tensed, her eyes widening with disbelief and possessiveness.

“Why on earth does she want Uncle Thor in our bedroom?” She leaned forward, her voice sharp as she repeated the question, emphasizing the word “our.”

The little girl shrugged innocently. She then promptly hopped off Thor's lap, her small hand gripping his fingers with surprising strength. Her voice carried a tone of innocent excitement as she tugged gently on his hand.

“C'mon, Uncle Thor,” she urged, her small figure already setting off in the direction of your shared bedroom.

Thor's eyes shifted nervously to Natasha, seeking her approval before proceeding. After all, she was your girlfriend, and he wasn't sure why you had specifically requested his presence in your room, and your girlfriend has no idea too which is making her crazy.

Natasha released an exasperated sigh, she crossed her arms before Clint spoke up, breaking the palpable tension in the room with his words.

“Guys, you really think Y/N would do something immoral?” Clint asked in disbelief. After a brief pause he told Thor to go.

Thor nodded slowly, his expression contemplative as his eyes darted towards Natasha who was looking at the ceiling, her frustration evident in the way she chewed on her lower lip and crossing her arms together tightly. Before anyone could say anything else, Morgan impatiently tugged on Thor's hand, her young energy fueling her impatience.

As the little girl pushed open the door to your room, Thor followed closely behind her. The door closed quietly behind them as Morgan led Thor further inside, her small hand still wrapped around his calloused fingers.

“What's up, Asguardian?” you greeted, your arms crossed, cocking your brows at him playfully.

“I’m good and delighted to be here, how about you? How are you feeling Y/N?” Thor replied with his usual charm.

His voice seemed to have a profound effect on you, causing your cheeks to flush lightly, and you responded softly, “I'm doing good, Thor. Well, thank you for accepting my invite.”

Morgan quickly ran towards your bed and in a moment, she plopped down in your lap, a giggle escaping her. The little girl snuggled against you, her small frame feeling warm and soft against your own.

You gestured gently and patted the edge of the bed, silently inviting Thor to take a seat.

“Y/N…” he called out your name very carefully, “I don't think Natasha will like—” but you cut him off mid-sentence. Without giving him a chance to finish, you retorted, “She's not here, is she?”

The Asguardian froze in place, he knew better than to deny you. He has heard your girlfriend rant about your mood swings and he has no intention of provoking or triggering your pregnancy rage which he calls joys of pregnancy and he’s now taking it back.

“I think you can sit on the floor while I sit at the edge of the bed,” you smiled innocently pointing at the floor between your legs.

Thor slowly settled himself between your legs, the metal components of his armor clinking against each other. His broad back was facing you and his heart was beating fast calling all the gods he knew, to his surprise you began to run your fingers through his hair, gently fixing the locks and neatening his usually unruly mane. Then, you requested Morgan to hand you the biggest brush with glitter and ribbon resins on it.

And that to set Thor at ease. He breathed a sigh of relief, realizing that you were just simply intending to do his hair.

As you continued to brush through Thor's hair, you found yourself admiring its beauty and thickness. The golden locks felt soft and smooth under your touch, and you couldn't help but marvel at the healthy and radiant appearance of his hair.

“I hope my baby will have your hair.” You whispered and Thor just nervously chuckled. “Can you ask the goddesses you know if they can make my baby's hair like this?” you peeked at his side.

Thor took a deep breath, choosing his words with extreme caution, “I know some of the goddesses of my realm,” he repeated, his voice laced with nervousness. He knew he was treading on thin ice, both literally and figuratively, as he tried to find the right words to explain.

“But I cannot guarantee that they can grant such a boon,” he continued, his voice softer. “You understand, right? These things are…not completely within my control.”

“Blah, blah, blah…”

Thor's heart thumped loudly in his chest, he cannot believe that a human is making him feel dangerously scared and nervous!

“You could have said no, Thor,” You handed him a mirror, “Okay your hair is all done and pretty.” Thor held the mirror, taking a moment to regard his freshly braided locks with a lot of pink ribbons and sparkly pins in there, he then saw you at the mirror behind him with a small grin tugging at the corners of your lips.

“The payment is my baby having your hair, if that really is not possible I guess I’ll just have to settle with another redhead,” you said as the Asguardian stood. Right now you only have two choices, making Thor ask for a goddess that can grant your wish or just accept the fact that your baby will have the same hair as your girlfriend, your hair is not even on the choices.

As Thor stepped towards the door, a thought crossed your mind and you called out to him, “Oh, and Thor,” to which he turned back to face you. You added cheerfully, “Tell Jane I said hi!”

Thor nodded with a smile on his face and waved at you before disappearing in your room. You now turned your focus on Morgan behind you who’s too focused on placing the hair ties on the bed, “So, who's our next client?”

Natasha has been staring at Thor, Yelena and Wanda who’s in a kitchen laughing and admiring each other’s hair. You also called Yelena and Wanda for you to have their hair done with glittery ribbons and hairpins.

“I want my hair done like that too!” Natasha whined as she was unable to contain her jealousy, she actually doesn't know if she wants her hair done like that or she was more interested in getting your attention than the actual hairstyle itself.

Clint couldn't help but chuckle as he looked at Natasha's pouty expression. He reached over and gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder, a knowing smirk on his face.

“Maybe you can ask Morgan if they accept walk-ins.”

⧗

It had been three weeks since the initial pregnancy was revealed, and now you found yourself in the fifteenth week of your pregnancy. Over time, your baby bump has grown more prominent, a visible evidence of the life growing inside you. The symptoms such as morning sickness and cravings had lessened slightly, but a new set of discomforts had taken their place. Your body felt heavier, your feet were swollen, and there were times when you felt exhausted and sluggish.

As for Natasha, Clint had been true to his warnings, and you had banished Natasha to the couch. Your irritation and mood swings were becoming more and more intense as your pregnancy progressed, and you found it increasingly difficult to tolerate even the smallest actions from your girlfriend. Although Natasha was being nothing but loving and supportive, your pregnancy hormones had rendered you quite irritable, causing you to snap at her often…and grew distant to her.

There are also specifically weird things that grew into you like you being not able to go a day without touching Thor’s silky golden locks, which made your girlfriend extremely jealous whenever you ask for Thor and whenever she had to watch you get to play with his hair.

And the food cravings had taken a strange and unexpected turn. There was this one time, you had a hankering for a mango, but it couldn't just be any mango; it had to be from India and you want Natasha to get it, not anyone. Tony, always eager to appease you, even if it meant borrowing one of his jets he arranged for Natasha to go to India to get you those specific mangos you wanted. And the moment Natasha returned, you just placed the mangos in the refrigerator and simply stared at them. Every time you opened the fridge, you made sure the mangos were there, almost as if they were a security blanket.

Sam, who just came back from a mission, was unaware of your mango situation and he accidentally ate one. When you checked the fridge and noticed that one mango was missing, you lost your temper and stormed through the compound, determined to find the culprit who had dared to touch your sacred mangos. Thanks to Natasha for saving Sam from your raging wrath, she immediately replaced it and told you that it just fell god knows where in the fridge but you immediately bought it though.

Today, your pregnancy cravings had struck again, like always and this time, you found yourself craving Wanda's famous paprikash. The thought of the rich, spicy dish made your stomach growl. Wanda, upon hearing of your desire, was absolutely delighted. She was thrilled to cook her speciality for you.

Your eyes lit up as Wanda approached, she carried a steaming plate of paprikash, the rich red sauce clinging to the edges and the golden, tender vegetables visible within. You could almost taste the dish already, your mouth watering in anticipation. Wanda reached the table, placing the plate in front of you with a radiant smile on her face.

You smiled up at your bestfriend, thanking her for the meal before taking a spoonful of the dish. The spicy, fragrant flavors exploded on your taste buds, the warmth of the food coating your tongue. After a moment of pure satisfaction, you placed the spoon back down, once again just staring at the food. Wanda, who had resumed her cleaning at the kitchen counter noticed you not touching your food, furrowing her brow in confusion at your lack of enthusiasm for the food. She knew how much you had been craving it, so why weren't you eating more?

“Lyubov? Is there something wrong?” Wanda asked, worried that you didn't like her cooking. But she always cooks her paprikash the same way so nothing could go wrong.

You quickly reassured her, the words tumbling out of your mouth. “No, Wanda, it's perfect, but I think it's not that spicy for me.”

Wanda chuckled at your comment. “Y/N, I actually reduced the spice because I know you're quite sensitive to spicy foods,” she explained.

“Well it's not that spicy to me.” You said flatly which made Wanda freeze in place, your attitude shifting from being ecstatic about the food and being cold about it.

Your actions seemed almost frenzied as you suddenly stood up, rummaging through the cabinets to find a hot sauce. With a splash, you poured almost half an amount of hot sauce onto the plate of paprikash, the vibrant red sauce mixing with the redder colors of the dish.

Wanda watched all of this in stunned silence, her mind racing to make sense of your behavior. Weird pregnancy cravings, she thought to herself.

You took a spoonful of the food again, now satisfied at the level of spiciness of the food.

“I’m full,” You announced as you pushed the plate away.

“Y/N, you've only had two spoons.” Wanda scolded, placing her hands at her waist. She glanced at the barely touched food on the plate, confusion etched on her face. How could you possibly be full after eating such a small amount, especially when you had just drenched it with hot sauce? It seemed like your pregnancy cravings were reaching new heights.

“Where’s Natnat?” you asked as you tap the table impatiently, when you were about to stand you saw your girlfriend entering the kitchen.

“Hey, I was looking for you. I’m gonna go to the grocery do you want some—”

“Eat,” you cut her off not minding a word coming out of her mouth.

Natasha didn't hesitate and approached you immediately. She enveloped you in a tight hug, planting a tender kiss on the side of your forehead like she always does whenever she sees you. You clung to her for a brief moment before abruptly pulling away, creating a physical and emotional distance. It's no new to Natasha actually, since the incident you grew distant to her but she couldn't pinpoint if it was due to the hormones associated with your pregnancy or if you haven't forgiven her yet.

You haven't been affectionate to her and you haven't been actually intimate to each other and it's been so hard for Natasha…literally.

Natasha took a seat across from you at the table, you pushed the bowl of paprikash to her, “Here, eat.”

“Oh, okay.”

When Natasha took a bite she immediately felt the burning sensation on her tongue. Her eyes water as she tries to suppress the urge to cough. She didn't want to let on that the food was too spicy, not wanting to dampen your efforts in making her eat.

Wanda, however, simply tightened her lips, saying nothing as she watched Natasha try to maintain her composure.

You watched Natasha struggling with the food, completely oblivious to the fact that it was too spicy for her. You asked, “Good?”

Natasha, just responded with a tight smile, her eyes watering from the spiciness. “Y-yeah, it is,” she forced herself to say, hoping to avoid further questions. She looked back to Wanda who just gave her an awkward smile.

“Wanda cooked it. But I contributed by adding some generous amount of hot sauce.” You said plainly as you watch her like a hawk watching its prey eat.

“Thanks, Wanda,” your girlfriend managed to say between coughs, “Generous amount of hot sauce, huh,” she added, as she wiped her forehead that began to gleam with sweat as she took another bite.

Yelena entered the kitchen and saw Wanda watching you and your girlfriend, “So what are we watching?” the blonde asked.

“Let's just say that Y/N craved my paprikash, had two bites and she made her girlfriend eat it and now she's having some fun watching her girlfriend finish the food.”

“Did you notice that she has been watching Natasha eat for like a week now?” Yelena whispered to the redhead.

“Yeah, we bring in her favorite foods or Natasha gets them herself, only for her to end up consuming almost all of it while Y/N watches her, because if she won't, it's the end for your sister.”

The blonde's voice dropped to a murmur, when an intriguing theory just came up in her mind, “Is it like a... kink thing or something? Y'know watching your partner eat brings you pleasure...” she then stopped when she saw Wanda staring at her in disbelief.

“Seriously, Yelena?” she snapped as she crossed her arms, “I doubt it's that. Y/N is pregnant, hormones and cravings do weird things.”

Yelena, never one to back down, pointed another idea she had in mind, “And horny things.” Wanda could only let out an exasperated sigh.

“Why in the hell Natasha is all red?” Yelena whispered as she looked at her sister who looked like a tomato, she then let out a gasp as she spotted a familiar hot sauce bottle at the table.

“Is that my hot sauce?!”