#but danger danger is actually a good song though

[smallestapplin]

Rescue bots romance headcanons

Yes, hi, I was dragged into this and now can’t stop thinking about it.

Reader is gn!human. Nothing but fluff here (if you have any less fluffy ideas please throw them at me, I’m desperate for these fuckers)

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Chase

Chase is so dense it’s a miracle he even managed to realize his feelings for you were more than just platonic, the tightness in his chassis every time he spoke to you, the claminess of his servoseach time he felt the urge to grab your hand. Oh yes, you had this police bot wrapped around your finger before he even realized it.

However, he is a very by the books bot, courting will be done properly! He scares you half to death with his siren softy ‘bwoop!’ing, sadly you aren’t the only one who gets spooked by it, as Chief Burns gets a good jump if he happens to be riding in Chase’s alt mode, same with the rest of the family if they are around when he doesn it.

The only ones not confused are the other Rescue bots, Blades and Heatwave do not stop teasing Chase for his little crush on you, making the poor bot more flustered about it than he already is (even if his expression doesn’t change much.)

Blades tries to offer some advice though from all the movies he’s watched, but most of them end up in a sillier fashion than Chase would like. Heatwave attempts to help but he’s really got nothing but support for him. Boulder, luckily, is Chase’s saving grace, using passages from the dating advice books Chase has read to help him.

He had to ask Charlie for help obtaining flowers, chocolate, a plush toy with hearts, and a request for leaving later in the night, which he was delighted to be granted.

The hard part comes with actually asking you out to a picnic under the starry sky under a nice clear night. You try not to laugh at how cute he looks with a barely big enough magnetic bow tie, a radio playing older cheesier love songs, and his gifts in his servos. He has an entire thought out speech for you, from the very instant he realized his feelings to the actions he noticed most about you that made him fall helm over pedes for you, to finally how he wishes to start a pre-conjunx endura courtship with you.

Agreeing and you have the rare chance to see such a sweet smile on his face plate and cheeks twinged blue.

Chase is a very interesting bot, he remembers very VERY little things, the date and exact time you agreed to date him, from your first hug to your first kiss, he has a calendar with all of it marked and timed, your first night in each other’s rooms in some way. Down to the last millisecond.

Protective boyfriend, very protective, it takes his job as a rescue bot very seriously and never hesitates to save people, but when it’s you in danger of about to get hit he becomes an entirely new ferocious bot, adrenaline coursing through him to get to you and take any hit for you, to get you to safety first.

Call him for anything, do you feel mildly uncomfortable around someone? Congrats, he is right next to you and putting himself between you and whoever else. He’s observant to little things, any nervousness you have will instantly be addressed by him, cause he wants you to feel safe and comfortable.

A little awkward on affection, Chase likes holding you in some way but kissing gets him bashful. Handholding, cuddling, hugging, setting you on his shoulder all come to him like second nature with you, but kissing? Please do it, he wants to kiss so badly but is unsure how to approach the subject or bring it up.

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Blades

how YOU don’t know Blades has a crush on you is beyond everyone else, it’s so obvious and just a fact. “Grass is green, the sky is blue, and Blades has a crush on that nerd.” It’s almost adorable but painful to watch. Blades thinks he’s hiding it sooo well, he’s so cool and no one knows! It’s not like he gets nervous around you and starts stuttering, it’s not like his cheeks burn blue with bright energon when you’re around him, it’s not like he squeals happily and bounces in place when you agree to watch a movie with him.

He plans every hang out to a T, always has snacks for you, what movies to watch, blankets Dani and Cody let him use. Please don’t ask him about the movie. He was too busy staring at you with a smitten look on his face plate.

Blades wasn’t a flight mode bot until he got to Earth, so he doesn’t have much control over his wings like one would think, as the rest of the team calls him the sweetspark alarm for the sole reason of they don’t even need to look up from what they are doing to know it’s you, the second they hear fast ‘ptptptptpt’ they know you are at base and Blades spotted you.

Once more with Heatwave’s banter, calling him a sap and to just go for it already he’s getting a processor ache just watching you two.

Anytime you leave base Blades mopes around, sighing, slumping over the couch already missing you and he lets everyone know it. Even his confession came out by accident, he got hurt trying to protect you and when you held his helm so gently everything just came spilling out in rapid succession.

How could you say no when he’s looking at you like you are his world? His joy makes him forget his rotator is damaged, and truthfully you wouldn’t even know how he picks you up and spins you around, cheering.

Blades is a big sweetheart, a very needy one too, he loves your attention and affection so much! If no one can find him then he’s with you, he’s so attached to your hip. Please flirt with him, even the smallest or silliest pick up line has him making a wheezing sound before covering his blushing face plate and giggling, he’s so easy to make swoon.

Please hold him while watching a horror movie, he loves them dearly but he’s such a big chicken he needs to be held and smooched instantly.

He may be fearful but that never stops him from protecting you or getting hurt trying, but please be careful on rescues and missions he will cry if you are hurt. He holds and treats you so tenderly, giving the injured area gentle kisses and apologizing he wasn’t fast enough, and always asks if you need anything. Nurse Blades is at your care to ensure a good recovery.

Blades can be a bit hard on himself and often thinks less of himself, he’s not as strong as Boulder, as smart as Chase, or very confident like Heatwave, sometimes he needs a little boost and some reminding he’s loved and perfect as he is. Cover his helm in kisses, whispering praise and what you love about him inbetween, hold him close, it really makes him feel a thousand times better.

Call him a pretty boy, he will go to you with a skip in his step and love in his eyes. You are not immune to his pet names either, ones he’s picked up from too much tv, from ‘sweetie’ to ‘honey’ to ‘cherry pie’ though the look on his face was priceless when you explained the meaning of the last one, he has called you it once and then never again he was so embarrassed.

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Heatwave

Mr I'll keep all my emotions right here until i die’ is not above finding himself smitten with you and it angers him at first, he is here on a mission nothing more nothing less and yet you throw a wrench into those plans. Your stupidly cute smile, you dumbaft adorable laugh, that stupid stupid happy sparkle you get when you see him, it’s infuriating! No one can tell what’s upsetting him, he avoids you as much as he can and uses the training dummies to get all his frustration out.

It takes him so long to calm down and fully realize this isn’t just some crush that’ll go away, no, he’s in love with you. It doesn’t help you look up at him with a smile and a happy greeting of his name, his name has never sounded better than it does leaving your lips, he could listen to you say it all day.

Once Heatwave realizes these feelings aren’t going away, prepare to have scary dog privileges, as Heatwave is very protective over you and slightly possessive, your safety and health come first and if he catches anyone saying anything that isn’t praise for you it’s on slight. He doesn’t like sharing your time, he will find some way to drag you away from others or at least keep you by his side while you talk to everyone else, even if he doesn’t speak he just grunts but makes sure you are within arms reach.

More ‘bwoop!’s of sirens, cybertronian courting at it’s finest, he likes letting you know he’s there and he always puffs his paneling when it not only works but also gets your attention. Anytime he’s pulling up he’s ’bwoop!’ing anytime you move past him he’s ‘bwoop!’ing his siren softy. His spark melts everytime you chuckle at his calls.

Kade has made ONE offhanded comment about you and it likely ended into the worst argument the team has ever seen the two have, as Heatwave does not take kindly to any bad mouthing of you, whether you are there to see it or not. The leader is a firm believer in ‘keep my sweetspark’s name outta your intake.’

And he hasn’t even asked you out yet, speaking of! When he finally does ask you, it’s late at night, everyone is asleep except you two, neither of you could sleep so you both sit in the backyard, it’s quiet aside from the sounds of the crickets and birds, and you lay so close to him, he can feel your warmth. It’s quiet between you two but it’s not uncomfortable, it’s nice, but for some reason it has him spilling his spark out to you, from his background he’s never told anyone, to how much he truly adores you, loves you, everytime you’re near he can barely think right.

Returning his affection with a smile and a kiss to his shoulder earns you one loving but grumpy bot. Constantly reminding you to take care of yourself or he will do it for you, and that is a promise.

Heatwave isn’t a huge fan of PDA, he prefers to keep your affection private and behind the closed doors of his habsuite, though he doesn’t mind a little hand holding or more subtle touches.

This is now where his slightly possessive nature kicks in, anyone even slightly hinting at flirting with you and he will stand behind you glaring something deadly to whoever you are talking to. Without hesitation he will step between you and others, he always likes keeping you at his side or slightly behind him so he can protect you. His pet names for you mostly have ‘my’ at the start of them.

Banter, I hope you like banter, because he is still a snarky bastard, he can’t help but tease you, calling you short stack (even though he is unfairly tall), or his tone mocking as he calls you ‘your majesty/princess/prince’ he lives for playful roasting each other, cause with you it always ends in someone getting a kiss to shut the other up and he won’t admit it, but he does want that kiss.

His temper can cause a bit of problems, but he has gotten better at working on it! Please, he will tell you he just needs a moment to cool down, and he will go to you when he feels calmer, cause the last thing he wants to do is say something in the heat of the moment and hurt you.

Gifts are interesting, he's more of a quality time and acts of service kinda bot, but you do in fact get gifts, sometimes it's some ancient treasure from pirates that he yoinked, sometimes its a pretty rock from an abandoned island they went to, and other times it’s a little action figure of himself and his team (which you had a good laugh about, but adore so much.)

Primus, help if you are ever injured, he goes into rescue mode but his intake is in worried partner mode and keeps trying to reassure you he is not leaving you anywhere.

Also Primus, help if someone makes you uncomfortable, he is not above catching a charge, much to the dismay of Chase.

[dannybobany]

Not exactly a bad discovery. But one of my oc’s fits shockingly well with a my little pony song

[turtleblogatlast]

“Haven’t You Noticed (I’m a Star)” from Steven Universe works so ridiculously well for Leo

[grimm-the-tiger]

I'm feeling the overwhelming urge to make an animatic for "Take Me to War" about my Fallen London Shadowy alt.

[moe-broey]

Got any music you listen to for any FEH characters? Be it for vibes or brain animatics?

WAH.... I'VE BEEN......... SITTING ON THIS ..... mostly cause I worry my answer might be a bit lacking 🧍

I have. A small handful of songs that make me think of Alfonse! Some are silly, some not! In no particular order:

I Earn My Life - Lemon Demon

> THIS ONE..... IS SO FUNNY TO ME...... but it is so painfully Alfonse-core........ to me. Esp lines "I learned it from my father and my father never lied" and "I wouldn't be so worried if I wasn't always right". Biting him. Killing him, even

Devil's Train - The Lab Rats

> Not a direct one-to-one (it is a specific ass situation song and I love it for that) but! This one is so Book 3 to me... if any of these are animatics in my brain material it's this one! Esp if it's following the Alfonse who would become Líf... I also think it captures the generational cycles that are present with Alfonse, Gustav, and Grampa Askr as well!

Ghost - Mystery Skulls

> Some are more Líf leaning tbh LMFAO but! Speaking of! I've mentioned it before, but Lewis was actually a huge inspiration/reference for me when learning How To Draw Líf -- sorting out how to simplify him, get him to fit more w my cartoony style, and how I want him to look body-type wise (big broad guy!)

Also the way I emphasize heart motifs on Líf is very inspired by Lewis! While also trying to simplify the shapes/taking creative liberties and running with them LMFAO

So Ghost is like. Yeah I think the lyrics can fit! But there's Deeplore here too LMFAO

Sex With A Ghost - Teddy Hyde

> This one is very just vibes/up to interpretation. It also feels like a companion to Ghost LMFAO

Cupid - Jack Strauber

> THIS ONE. IS ANOTHER SILLY ONE. BUT. Hear me out. I get such a strong mental image when I listen to it. Bruno just dumped him/ghosted him. Alfonse is face down ass up laying flat on his bedroom floor. He's been playing this song on repeat for at least an hour. Sharena tentatively checks in on him very "Are ya winning, son?" but she knows he fucking isn't. I think it also captures the feelings of heartache and regret of letting someone in and getting hurt for it. AND AND it's because of THE CIRCUMSTANCES. Lamenting The Circumstances -- "Cupid, how could you be so cruel?"

Fist Bump - Sonic Forces themesong

> SONIC THE HEDGEHOG JUMPSCARE‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️ It is. So fitting though. I am ALWAYS thinking of him when listening to it...........

This December - Ricky Montgomery

> This one..... is so him...... it makes me soft. If you check out any of these I def recommend this one!!! And Devil's Train, both are also just so fun to listen to in a Music That Sounds way (I like the flow!)

I could have SWORN I had more but........... I never made a complete collection...... honorable mention to The Black Parade and a handful of MCR songs tbh (This Is How I Disappear feels very distinctly Líf, I Don't Love You honestly could be either depending on the circumstances, Famous Last Words feels a little more Alfonse-leaning). I think if you introduced Alfonse to MCR it WOULD rearrange his brain chemistry, it Would be the closest thing he's had to therapy. And in addition to music I would introduce him to personally, I think The Wonder Years is another good one (but all of TWY's stuff feels so deeply personal... like diary entries and poetry.... cannot be entirely Blorboified. To me)

[daemonbrain]

~3.4k, cw: smut, size kink, p in v, overstimulation if you squint, fairy!reader, hes a monster hunter

Simon Riley, the monster hunter guild's most valuable asset. Whenever a high bounty was set out for one creature or another Simon was there. Werewolves taking all your sheep? He’s all stocked up on silver. Vampire terrorizing the town? Get him some matches and a stake, it’ll be gone come morning.

Those with real connections to the guild know that if you want a job done, you ask for ‘Ghost’. Contrary to the scars which littered his body, it wasn't all fighting the big bad wolf and risking his life. Occasionally he would get lucky with a low-risk high-reward job. Paired with his brute strength, he also had extensive knowledge on the supernatural and their habits. 

He had taken up a job for an anonymous businessman to nab a fairy. Fucks sakes he almost burst out laughing when he got the request, only to be met with a very serious expression.

Fairies, notoriously hard to trap and contain. It’s said that any who can lock one down will be granted prosperity for the rest of their days. Their laughs attract wealth, their dust makes little specks of gold, their tears harden into diamonds. 

Now of course, greed of humans and all, fairies had gone into some pretty deep fuckin’ hiding. Forests with heaps of danger weeding out any fools who tried to find one on a whim. If you got far enough the things were smaller than your finger and moved faster than you could blink, the only thing assuring you that they were there was the mocking little giggles that would sound out before they flew back into hiding.

It’s even rumored that they can turn themselves into the size of a fully grown woman at will. They're supposed to be prettier than any tavern wench you’d see on a regular night, or the fairest of maids if the songs were to be believed. Simon had never seen one though, so that was to be taken with a grain of salt.

You were a difficult catch. Pissed Simon off plenty of times with your dodging, your mocking titters. You just thought he was a passing traveller trying his luck. Sorely mistaken you were. It was when he began burning a mystery plant and your eyes grew hazy that you realized your misconception. Dropping from the sky as you struggled to hold up your own weight.

How humiliating! To fall for a mere man's tricks! He tricked you into believing he was foolish and you took the bait just like he intended. Even through the thick glass of the jar you could see your squirrel friends who looked on in worry from the trees. To be outfoxed by one of them, it infuriated you.

Which made it all the more terrible as he sat with his back pressed to the trunk of a tree, face illuminated by the fire looking at you angrily raising your tiny fist to the glass yammering who knows what in gibberish. He shook the jar in his hands gently, watching as your wings flapped rapidly to steady yourself. One had been injured on the drop and he could tell it was a struggle for you to stay upright. You’d occasionally dip a bit too low and by the look of shock on your face, he knew it wasn’t intentional.

One could almost mistake you for a pint sized human. An annoying one (though most people bothered the hunter, miniature or not). You certainly had the anatomy of one, none of the modesty though, with only leaves to cover your more intimate parts. He watched as you crossed your arms and began to point at the lid he fashioned to have minuscule air holes. Yelling in your grating foreign tongue once more, which really only sounded like little squeaks to Simon, the fight clearly returned back full force after you regained consciousness from the jimsonweed. 

He really took a gamble with that one. He was quite proud of himself to be honest. He’d never actually caught a fairy for himself, only hearing chatter from other members of the guild that your kind were sensitive to hallucinogens.  

You’d fetch a good price and to top it off Simon wasn’t walking around with a new batch of bruises. A win-win. Except for you that is. Bringing his attention back to you, he notices you’ve taken to pounding the cork lid with your hands as if that would make any difference.

However, upon seeing Simon’s dark eyes on you, you scowl yet reluctantly stop and float to the bottom of the jar. “Thas wha’ I thought” He said while rolling his eyes. He placed the jar in his travelling satchel and closed his eyes more than ready for a rest before having to hit the road again. 

...

Simon had woken up with the burning and familiar feeling in his loins. Groaning, his eyes open wearily only to be met with nothing but the trees and grass around him. What the hell?

He groggily wiped at his eyes. Trying to take focus on whatever it was that was rousing him from sleep. The only thing noticeable being the significant drop in temperature as the night went on.

What was wrong with him? Has not visiting someone's bed in so long made him that desperate?    He had places to be tomorrow, there was no time to be wasting jerking it in the middle of nowhere. Huffing, he closes his eyes and abstinently ignores the need which he feels building inside his belly unprompted.

He had sensed something was wrong when his cock once again slapped against the confines of his breeches. He knew something was wrong when a small but pitchy squeal followed.

“Fuckin’ hell”

His eyes widen in disbelief as he watches his trousers ripple with movement not his own. He lifts the waistband only to be met with two eyes narrowed right back at him, as if you were the one being inconvenienced. He was suddenly hyper aware of the fact that both your arms and legs enveloped half the circumference of his cock, bobbing with every movement. 

What. The. Fuck.

“What’re you bloody doing? How did you get free?!” He huffed while reaching for you, staunchly ignoring the way his blood began to run hot at your unintentional ministrations. As that monstrous looking hand approached, you stiffly moved, your body still too frigid from the cold, to nestle into the juncture where all of… him… connected to his balls.

When the hunter had fallen asleep, you had screamed and pleaded for any of your forest friends to hear. After a lot of begging, and a promise to help collect acorns for the winter which seemed to approach faster and faster this year, you had managed to convince one of the squirrels to gnaw through the lid of your prison. Too far from the safety of your home, you needed a place to seek shelter from the near freezing temperatures. 

Unfortunately, still weakened from your initial fall and the wind harshly prickling at your skin, you realized you were ground-bound. Trying as you might, you failed to scale the tall tree and make it into the squirrel's nest for refuge. With no other option, you were faced with the reality that the safest place for the night would be close to the human. After a few minutes pacing along the expanse of his body, you navigate your way to the warmest spot.

It smelt heavily of his musk, not the sweetest thing you had ever smelt, but not unpleasant by any means. You had tried to fall asleep, twisting and turning. You had rubbed the skin until it felt warm to the touch and pressed your cheek against it, all in an effort to make yourself more comfortable. Every minute you stayed on it the twitching got worse! So much so that you felt your body rising up, up, and up until you were harshly hit against the scratchy fabric of his breeches.

Bringing you to your current predicament as he whisper-yelled in his gruff accent. Truth be told, you could understand every word he said, you just didn’t like speaking old english. Your mother tongue was much prettier.

“C’mere.” he huffed as he nearly caught you by the leg. You may not be able to fly, but you sure could climb away as you made your way further to the tip of him. You had almost made it before a slow approaching bead of viscous liquid rolled in your path.  You were quick to move out of its way, unfortunately not quick enough to avoid Simon’s fingers as he dragged you from the safety of your shelter out into the abrasive open. 

Your abdomen was pinched between his thumb and forefinger as he looked at you expressionless. Somewhere in the struggle, your leafy garb had shifted, rendering one of your breasts exposed. You quaked violently, but your mind insisted it was the cold. A deeper part of you knew the giant staring down at you may have had a small part in it.

“Now you listen ‘ere, I don’t know what you know abou’ people but ‘m not the type of man to enjoy someone poking round my bits while ‘m sleeping. How did you even get out of the jar?”

Willing yourself to calm down, you muster the defiance and bravery to resist. Crossing your arms, you glowered back at the giant.

“It’s cold.” You finally spoke up.

With a laugh that sounded like a breathy cough, the man roved his eyes over your near-naked form.

“So you do speak english. Could’a started off with that. And I'd bet you were cold, people don’t normally have their teats out in this kinda weather.” Simon mocked. You scowled at his words. If this had been a normal day, you’d already be wrapped up warmly in your little nook. It was entirely his fault you were out here like this and yet you were the one being lectured.

“I’m not a person! And I wouldn’t be cold or outside if you hadn’t taken me. How do you live with yourself? You greedy things. You’re all the same you take and take and- mmph” You’re suddenly interrupted by a light squeeze to your midsection. 

“You wanna warm up so bad? Fine. ‘Ve got a way.” lust creeping into his tone.

Suddenly, your legs were being knocked apart. With a gentleness you wouldn’t think possible for a person his size, you feel the soft trace of his pinkie inching towards what rests between your thighs. Instinctually, your body tried to jolt away but with the tight hold he had on you there was nowhere to go. The little fight you had in you quickly faded as the pad of his finger covered the entirety of your cunt.

Fairies weren’t conceived in the way humans were, your own conception a mystery. You did not have parents, nor a family. You simply were. You had been for what could be measured in over a hundred years according to civilizations calendars. You had pleasured yourself many times before, your only company being your own fingers when the mysterious urge would come over you. It was never a feeling you dwelled on, always finding other ways to occupy your time.

But the feeling of his cool finger prodding at the juncture between your legs set a fire in the pit of your belly you couldn't understand. Your sensitivity was palpable as he began to shift the finger around, presumably trying to emulate what he would do to a regular woman. 

You shuddered and your eyes began to flutter close at the feeling. Suddenly, his hand pulled away much to your initial disappointment only to be replaced by the heat of his tongue.

Now this was new.

“H-hey, wait-”

A squeal left you at the feeling of the warm, wet muscle butting its way in. Even just the tip of his tongue was too large to catch on to your entrance. It was overwhelming as you felt the lower half of your body drenched, the size causing a lack of precision that made you want to weep. So close, yet so far from what you needed.

You had to do something. You just had to.

As Simon began to maneuver you to lay back on to his palm you shook your and held your hands up to arrest his movement.

“Had enough already?” He questioned, tilting his head while his brown eyes sparked with a hint of debauchery. 

Shaking your head, you closed your eyes and channeled your energy to the very core of yourself. You may regret this later.

Slowly but surely, your body began to stretch and warp itself as your size increased. Soon enough Simon’s hands adjusted to hold your growing figure as you assumed a more useful human form. 

His eyes widened as he let out a breathy chuckle, exploring your much more touchable form. Whatever had scantily covered you before had been shed as you sat bare before him. Although you were the size of an average woman, the man in front of you still towered above, even when seated.

Maybe he really was a giant. 

Taking a breath you steadied yourself by gripping his firm bicep, yet another large part of him. Grabbing your jaw with a single hand he softly moves your head upwards to face him. Without another word his lips were on you again, kissing at the delicate and untouched skin of your neck.

The sensation was unlike anything you’d ever experienced.You had been much alone for decades, though the critters of your forest kept good company through these times, there were many things they could not provide.

Large hands groped every bit of skin they could touch, as Simon reached your clavicle, you sharply inhaled as he began to bite at the skin. You felt lost, the only familiar feeling being wetness pooling between your legs as the unfamiliar bulge beneath you continued to press into your cunt.

You felt helplessly susceptible to his relentless attack, eyes going glassy from the strange pressure building in you. Your head began to lull, forehead pressing to Simon’s shoulder.

Grabbing the back of your head he raises you once again, snaking his free hand between your legs. “None of that, it’s alright, yeah? ‘M gonna take good care of ‘ya.” He reassured you as his thick fingers began to rub at your pearl. 

It was when his mouth met yours that you truly gave up. No shame as a wanton moan came from you. He swallowed the sound and began to push his tongue through your lips much to your confusion, though as he pushed a little harder at your clit, you trusted that he knew what he was doing. Allowing him in, all you could feel was him.

Nothing else mattered.

He parted from you and urgently began guiding you to the ground. No longer did the chill in the air bother you as he began to take off his breeches. Pushing your thighs as far as they could part, he positions himself between them, tugging at his cock while looking at your pretty face.

So the songs were right.

His body shielded you from everything which surrounded the two of you. The cold, the outside world, the only thing keeping you grounded was the twigs that peskily poked at your back. 

“I want you. I need you.” You begged. You didn’t know what this was, all you knew was that your insides roared for closeness.

“Do you even know what you’re askin’ for?”

He meanly slapped himself to your cunt. For the first time, you looked down to see where he had made the connection. You didn’t know how big a cock was supposed to be, but looking at the sheer difference between it’s hulking size and yourself you feared that he wasn’t the average man.

“I’ll fuck you if you let me. With this-” He waved the thing like a damn blade “You know what fucking means right? It’s gonna go inside of you.”

Absolutely not! It would ruin you. It would scramble your insides until they were so misplaced your poor body wouldn’t know what to do.

Your mouth fell slack as he gave your head a soft pat. Putting your hands to his shoulders, you shake your head in shock.

“Wait! wait  that- no it won’t, that won’t fit!” You stammered as Simon compared his length to your belly.

“It’ll fit. I’ll make it fit.”

Repositioning himself, he drags the bulbous tip up and down while knocking into your clit a few times. You squeezed your eyes shut in anticipation, digging your fingers into his arms. The head of his cock slowly pushed in.

Simon gritted his teeth while restraining himself from slamming all the way to the base and gosh it was difficult. It had been so long since he felt the touch of a woman- fuck, a fairy, whatever the hell you were right now. Your little cunny squeezed him unbelievably tight and it was so warm. 

He felt you try to push his chest closer to yours in a silent plea for closeness and he almost went dizzy. Obliging you, he puts a forearm to the right of you and then slips his left hand under your head to push you closer.

You whined as he cradled you, the action so soft as his hips continued to push through whatever resistance your muscles still held. Remembering the way he nipped at your flesh earlier, you found yourself with the urge to bite at the meat of his bicep. Indulging that urge, you heard a groan leave his lips and it's as if something snapped in the hunter.

Forgoing the snail-like pace, his cock slid in inch by inch until you were filled to the brim. The two of you take a moment to catch your breath. You felt so full. Is this what your body had been craving all along? This fucking. Had it been waiting for Simon to make his way to you?

You couldn’t be sure the logic behind all of this, but you did know that you needed him now. Peering up, you gaze upon his features and realize that perhaps humans do have a certain beauty to them.

“Please.” You asked.

And he answered. Slowly at first he began to thrust in, as your noises continued to grow louder the faster he got. Soon enough he began to hammer his hips to yours as you all screamed in ecstasy.

He fucked you and he continued to fuck you and it all felt so very good. You felt so drunk of the pleasure, as if one more thrust would kill you, yet if he stopped you would surely die.

“Please hunter, please!” Placing his forehead on yours, his breaths came heavy

“My name is Simon. Call me Simon.” Another thrust. “Do it. Say my name.”

HIs voice only spurred you closer and closer to some edge as your nails dragged against his skin.

“Say it love, say it.” He finally met your eyes as your body rocked with his every movement.

“Simon!” You called out as an overwhelming peak washed over you. Your cunt spasmed around him, trapping him there in your warm leaky mess as he chased his own high. You felt yourself go limp as he bit into the juncture between your shoulder and neck with a velvet moan.

And at the final slam of his hips, he pushed his entire body into yours. Your head pushed uncomfortably against the tree behind you with the weight. His cock fully sheathed into you as he unloaded every drop of cum he had to offer you, coating your insides with the gooey fluid. 

There was silence until you let out an exhausted giggle. Simon looked down at you through long lashes and shook his head in amazement. In awe of you who so casually laughed while still speared on his cock and full of his cum.

Reaching for your hair he untangles a twig which had gotten caught in it. Stroking your loose strands, he broke the silence.

“Fuck the buyer, ’m keeping you little fairy.”

As he said that, a shooting star passed overhead. Fairies really were lucky.

[mmywanda]

Pretty When You Sleep — W.M

——

Pairing: Dark!WandaMaximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Nights are lot more dangerous than you think.

Warnings: noncon/dubcon, somnophilia, drugging, blood, murder, stalking, mentions of a knives, strap-on.

Word count: 2.9k

A/N: This is a dark fic, if you find any of the warnings triggering, please do not read. Happy Halloween! men & minors dni.

Beta read by @poulengp <3

——

It started off small.

All the shoes you left in a mess by the door now neatly stacked up, laces undone, just so they were easier to slip on. The lamp you'd accidently leave on before falling asleep, being off when you woke up in the morning. Clothes that were dumped on the floor, suddenly folded up in your drawer.

Then it got weirder.

Your purse being filled with fifty dollar bills on the mornings you worried you wouldn't have enough to afford your groceries. Some of your clothes, specifically underwear, going missing. Your phone being in the other room when you woke up. Waking up with different pyjama bottoms on.

As it got worse, you found yourself confiding in your friend. Well, a little more than a friend, but the two of you had never labelled it. The two of you sat in the corner of a local cafe, coffee warming up your hands. It was a cool autumn day, causing you to wrap up in a scarf and fluffy coat. This crimson coloured scarf had suddenly appeared in your closet, right when you needed it. It should have been wrong to wear something that had inexplicably appeared in your home, but it was cold, and what else were you to do?

"It's just getting weird. Even the leftovers in my fridge that were about to be mouldy are being thrown away. I see it in my garbage bag. And you know me, I don't even throw it out until it's literally gone blue."

Erin laughed, "You're quite careless. And disgusting." Yes, you were, but that wasn't the point!

"Shush. I'm actually worried here. I'm starting to think.. no.. no one can be breaking into my apartment every night, I'd wake up and hear them. God, I think I'm going mad." You mumbled, hand gripping tightly around the coffee mug. It reminded you of the time you'd left a cold cup of tea on the side, and had fallen asleep. When you woke up an hour later, the cup was hot, as if it had just been warmed up again.

"You've added another lock to your door, you don't even have a spare key for it. It's impossible for someone to break in. And you live on the top floor. Honey, you've been exhausted recently, it's not uncommon for people to get forgetful. You probably did those things while sleepy." Erin reassured you, placing a hand over yours.

You sighed deeply, downing the last drops of drink you had left, Erin doing the same. "Yeah, you're probably right. It's just.. strange."

—

As you entered your apartment late at night, instead of throwing your keys carelessly on a table, you decided to tuck them in the nightstand by your bed. Just to be safe, even if it was just for your own peace of mind. You jumped into the shower, cracking open the window so the steam could be let out. You lived on the top floor of your block, no one could look in, which was always a good thing because your bathroom got very steamy, recently the ceiling paper even curling at the side from the condensation. Making a mental note to look up the prices for someone to redecorate.

You really needed a shower today, you and Erin had gotten a little.. excited earlier, and it always made you cringe not showering before bed after an evening of sex. Under the warm water, you hummed a song you'd had stuck in your head all day. It was a song you didn't even recognise, in fact you weren't even sure you'd heard it before. All you knew was that it was in a different language, and it was comforting.

Once clean, you felt overwhelmingly tired, it had been a long day, so you decided to go straight to bed after having your usual cup of camomile tea, with two spoons of sugar. Then you got into bed. Before you could doze off though, you decided to read for a bit, opening up your latest novel of your favourite author. It can't have been too exciting though, because you fell asleep before the first chapter was over.

When dawn broke, the early sun breaking through cracks in your window, you stirred, blinking a few times. Something felt strange, like every morning for the past few months. You felt a stickiness between your thighs, and your pyjama bottoms were definitely not the ones you fell asleep in. You stared down at the light blue shorts, eyebrows furrowed. Were you a sleepwalker? No, your past roommates would have told you. Maybe you'd had a really good dream and just forgotten it? Fuck, this was weird.

Deciding there was nothing you could really do about the situation, you got up, opting to take another shower to get rid of the icky feeling.

It was when you were munching on your chocolate flavoured cereal that you heard your phone ping. Automatically, you put your spoon down, picking up the device you so heavily relied upon. It was a text from an unknown number, causing you to frown. Opening it, you saw there was a picture attached to the text. And when you examined it, your blood ran cold.

It was a picture of you, naked in bed. Your body spread out, intimate area completely exposed.

"What the fuck?" You whispered, reading what had come with it.

Unknown number: Three orgasms in one night, that's your record so far.

You didn't know what to think— someone had.. touched you while you were asleep? They broke in and did this to you? You shivered in fear, your shaky hands typing out a response before you could even think about what the police would say if you went to them; to not engage with a dangerous person.

You: Who the fuck is this?

There was no reply. Not when you left for work, not when you arrived home in the evening.

You were rigid with fear. A sensible person would have called the police, or at least called someone like Erin, asked to stay over, but you just couldn't. Every time you were about to dial a number, something inside you made you stop. You couldn't explain it.

So here you were, sat bolt upright on your couch. It was around eleven, and your eyes were growing heavy. Your camomile tea mug now empty, you blinked a few times, just aching to lay down and rest. No, you had to stay up! You had to see who had been breaking into your home. But.. you were so tired, a sudden wave of exhaustion washing over you. Your eyes closed slowly, slumping down and falling into a deep sleep.

—

The next morning the first thing you did was check your phone, seeing if the stranger had replied, and they had. Two images attached to a message. And what you saw horrified you. The first picture, one of you in bed, with a.. strap-on, buried inside you. It made you feel sick, that someone had done this to you unwillingly. Though the expression on your face, clearly asleep but pleasure in your features. You could even see your own arousal dripping down the toy.

The second image quite literally made you throw up, You ran to the bathroom, heaving into the toilet bowl as the picture burned in your mind. It had been someone laying on a floor, covered in blood, a knife wedged in their chest.

You had to go to the police. There was no choice now. For some reason, you looked back at the picture, and your mouth dropped open. That someone was a familiar.

It was Erin.

You just knew, it was her jacket, her brown eyes wide open in fear, her blue dyed hair drenched in her own blood. It caused you to throw up again.

—

"I—I think my best friend has been murdered."

You whispered in a shaky voice to a police officer who had sat you down in a cold grey room. After seeing what you'd been sent, not even reading the message that had come with it, you rushed down to the local police station, practically screaming for someone to talk to.

"Why do you suspect this?" He asked in a gruff voice. He didn't seem to be all that serious about the situation, upsetting you even further.

"I've got pictures! And texts!" Your fingers fumbled around your pocket to retrieve your phone, opening your messages app.

It wasn't there.

"So?" The officer prompted, clearly unimpressed.

"It was.. it was right here.." You mumbled, opening every contact you had in case it had magically gotten messed up.

But no, the messages had vanished.

"Look, lady, I think you should go home and get some rest. You look tired. Our minds make things up when we're lacking sleep."

"But—"

"Listen, if something happens, come back in. But for now, you're making empty claims."

Hanging your head down dejectedly, you fought back tears. You knew Erin was dead. You just knew it.

—

Tonight you weren't going to fall asleep. Just to make sure, you downed two mugs of strong coffee instead of your tea. You hated it, but you couldn't risk falling asleep. The intruder— the murderer, was going to break in, you were sure.

The time ticked on. Eleven o'clock, twelve o'clock, one o'clock..

Until your phone buzzed. Dread washed over you. There was no one else who would be making your phone light up at this time of night.

Unknown number: How am I meant to enjoy you when you don't have your tea? You look so pretty when you sleep.

This confused you. Why would they be concerned about what beverage you were drinking? You typed out a response quickly.

You: I'm not scared of you.

It was a stupid thing to say, you knew that really. But the only thing you could think of was to pretend you weren't scared. Maybe that would make them bored and leave you alone. All you could think about what Erin's lifeless body. The blood, god.. all that blood..

Unknown number: See you soon, sweetheart.

Your eyes widened in horror; what the fuck did that mean? This person was on their way? Sickness rose up in your throat, and you ran to your kitchen, grabbing the first sharp object you could find— a medium sized kitchen knife. You clutched it to your chest, running to your bedroom, locking the door and panting heavily. You considered pushing some furniture against the door, but you knew you needed to call the police. Then you realised you'd left your phone in the kitchen.

Fuck! Fuck!

You had put yourself in the worst position possible. But before you could panic over that, you felt a gust of cold air. You frowned, turning around to see the window wide open. You definitely hadn't left it like that before, but it was also impossible for anyone else to have opened it. You lived on the top floor for Christ's sake!

Not knowing what to do first; close the window, get your phone, block the door, or just curl up in a ball and hope it would all just go away. You opted for grabbing your phone. If you could call the police, they'd be on their way, hopefully before your stalker could arrive.

Cautiously unlocking the bedroom door, you stepped out into the hallway. The lights that had previously been on, were off, leaving the whole apartment pitch black apart from the moon shining through the windows and the bedroom light.

Your steps were slow, ears straining to hear anything, but there was silence. The only sound heard was the hammering of your heart in your chest.

Until the silence was broken.

"Seeing you awake is strange. But exciting nonetheless."

The voice came from right behind you. Spinning around in horror, you finally came face to face with the person who had been tormenting you.

"Tormenting? That's a bit harsh, sweetheart."

The woman was dressed in all black, a hood covering most of her face. Light from the bedroom accentuated her figure, but more importantly, the silhouette of a knife and a cloth in her hands.

"W—who are you?" It was an attempt at a shout, maybe to attract the attention of the apartment below you, but your voice could barely manage a squeak.

"I've told you before, baby. You're a forgetful thing when you're asleep, mhm?" She stepped forward, causing you to take a step back.

"You've been taking advantage of me! You've been breaking into my home! You killed.. Erin!" You whispered, backing up against the wall. You had no where to go. You were most likely to die, just like Erin.

"Sweet girl, I'm not going to kill you. I could never hurt you." The woman's voice was almost softer as she approached you, only two feet away now. Was she reading your mind?

"But you killed my friend." The images of Erin's body filled your mind, and how you were going to end up just like her.

"Your 'friend'? Please, she was begging for her own life, not for you to be safe." She let out a cold laugh. "It was so satisfying, the sound of my blade tearing through her flesh and tissue." It almost sounded like she'd gotten pleasure from it

Finally, you got some sense and energy into you as she expressed her fucked up feelings. You let out a shattering scream, "HELP! HELP!"

The woman sighed in disappointment. It took her less than a second to raise the cloth up to your face, covering your nose and mouth. The smell of chemicals was overwhelming. You fought against it, until you couldn't anymore. Body falling limp to the ground.

—

The noise that woke you up was the sound of a squeaking. Your eyes wouldn't open, wondering what was going on. You then felt something inside you, a pressure building up in your lower stomach. What—

Finally, your vision became clearer. You blinked a few times, looking around you. The scene became pretty clear.

The woman was in between your legs, a strap-on buried inside you, just like that photo. The squeaking was the bed as she thrusted into you.

You should have screamed, but the pressure in your abdomen was too intense. You let out a whine, trying to move your tired body, but it was useless. You didn't even want to stop it, it felt too.. good.

"You're awake." She stated, a slight pant in her voice. Her hood was down now, revealing her auburn wavy hair, pale skin and deep green eyes.

"Let me.." You trailed off, because you didn't know whether to say 'go' or 'come'.

She let out a chuckle, holding your hips firmly as she thrusted into you. The feeling was delicious. Something about the fact your body was sleepy, heavy, while being fucked by a woman so dangerous..

No! Why are you thinking like this? It almost felt like your thoughts weren't yours anymore. Were you going insane?

The woman grunted, wet noises filling the room, making it very apparent that your body did not hate this at all. "You can come for me, it'll be your third."

Your third? You couldn't even bring yourself to ask about it, your body just trembled, a pending orgasm taking over, making you whimper in delight.

"Fuck!"

Tears filled your eyes from the sheer pleasure, and the fact that you should have hated this. You were filled with so much shame and guilt. This was the person who had killed your best friend, who'd stripped you of your dignity.

"Shh, darling, you don't have to feel guilty. You're allowed to feel pleasure. And your friend, well, she was just in the way."

Her twisted words made you feel sick again, but you didn't have time to dwell on that because the woman's hand suddenly reached down and started to circle your clit while simultaneously thrusting into you. A loud groan escaped your throat, eyes practically rolling to the back of your head.

"You're going to beat your record, four times will be an achievement." Her accented voice was hot and heavy, turning you on even more.

"I— mhm!" You tried to speak, but you didn't know what to say.

"Let go, detka, show me how good I make you feel." She gripped your waist with her spare hand, red manicured nails digging into your skin.

Without warning, you came hard, spilling all over the strap. The woman moaned, slowing down her thrusts and eventually pulling out, leaving you unbearably empty. She slipped the strap off and went to straddle you, leaning her head down to kiss your neck. You felt utter bliss, forgetting how incredibly fucked up and sick this was.

"Seeing as this is the first time we've met while you've been conscious, I'll introduce myself. I'm Wanda." She giggled, as if nothing had just happened, and had been happening for months. Your head spun, recognising that name somehow, as if it had been spoken in your dreams.

"Relax now, sweet thing. I'll be here when you wake up." Wanda said softly, lying beside you, wrapping the duvet around your naked body. Her arm laid loosely across your stomach, hearing her breathing slow down to something calmer than before.

You didn't say anything, too busy feeling a wave of satisfaction, as awful as that sounded. It was like your mind was used to this, and that it was something you'd always wanted.

The last thing you remembered was a soft lullaby, in a language you didn't recognise. You'd heard it before, in your dreams. And it brought you great comfort.

——

Tags: @rezwrites @hatdog96 @ion-news @esposadejoyhuerta @moimmmm @grimlygoblin @lizziesflower @yandereloverb312 @beggingonmykneesforher

——

[prythiansprincess]

azúcar.

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader.

song inspiration: baby by madison beer.

author's note: benjamin being active on tiktok is dangerous for my health. i actually feel like i'm about to crawl on the ceiling from how badly i want this man. literally tweaking. anyways, enjoy 😊

There were a lot of quidditch related superstitions you were willing to put up with. 

Wearing the same socks during every match. Kissing your boyfriend good luck before every game. Even the rowdy common room parties that you and Mattheo often snuck out of to have a celebration of your own was a tradition you welcomed with open arms. 

But this was not one of them. 

“It’s absolutely absurd,” Pansy huffed, her sleek black hair grazing her chin as she tucked her legs underneath her on the velvet couch. “Blaise has lost his mind.” 

“Sounds like you’re the one losing it, Pans.” 

Pansy rolled her eyes. “You would too if your boyfriend suddenly announced a sex ban as part of some weird quidditch superstition.” 

Since the start of the season, the quidditch team had taken a few hits. Usually, the boys dominated the other houses, but they barely won against Hufflepuff and came to a draw against Ravenclaw during the last game. Ending in a tie was apparently the last straw because the day after the match, Blaise told Pansy that the team had taken a pact of celibacy. 

For some deranged reason, the boys believed that abstaining from sex for a week would help them secure a win for the rematch on Friday. For the next five days, they intended to sleep, breathe, and eat quidditch. Apparently, your feminine wiles would have to be set aside for the meantime. As if sex were the problem and not their constant drinking and partying, which probably contributed to their lack of focus as a whole. Not that the boys would listen to common sense at this point. 

You scoffed. “Please, Mattheo wouldn’t last a day without sex let alone a whole week.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Pansy said rather bitterly, picking at the cushion in her lap. “The lot of them are taking this entirely too seriously. Blaise won’t even allow himself to be in a room alone with me.”

”Well, Zabini has a surprising amount of self-control. Mattheo, on the other hand, is perpetually horny. There’s no way that he agreed to such a ridiculous pact.”

“Lucky you,” your best friend said with a long suffering sigh.

You nudged her knee with your foot and smiled mischievously. “Don’t worry, babe. I’m more than willing to help. Blaise may be disciplined, but he’s also just a man. What do you say we pop into the village? I think I saw a lace emerald lingerie set that had your name all over it.”

Pansy perked up at that. “I knew I came to the right person.”

Your best friend smiled as you hooked your arm through her elbow. “Of course you did. Now come on, let’s bring Zabini to his knees.” 

Sprawled out on Mattheo’s bed, you flicked through the pages of your novel and waited for your boyfriend to return from practice. The trip to Hogsmeade had been a complete success. Just as you suspected, the little set you glimpsed through the lingerie store window looked absolutely stunning on Pansy. Blaise didn’t stand a chance. 

As a matter of fact, you’d given the two of them privacy tonight. They were due for a study session at your shared dorm tonight, but you quietly slipped out in the midst of their heated argument about the Goblin Rebellion and happily skipped off to your boyfriend’s room. 

Given the late hour, Mattheo was due back any second now. As if summoning him from your thoughts alone, your boyfriend sauntered into the room, looking sweaty and sexy from running though drills all afternoon. Mattheo grinned the second he spotted you on his bed. 

“Hi, princesa,” he greeted, his voice low and husky. 

”Hi, Matty.” You propped yourself up on your elbows and smiled. “How was practice?” 

“Absolutely fucking brutal,” Mattheo grunted as he pulled off his shoes. “Theo clobbered the fuck out of me, but I suppose it’s better him than the Ravenclaws. Mark my words, we’re going to beat those twats come Friday.” 

“I don’t doubt it, babe.” You pushed off the mattress and scooted closer to him. 

Mattheo licked his lips as you neared, breath hitching as you brushed his damp curls off of his forehead. You smirked and leaned in for a kiss. At the last second, Mattheo turned sharply, causing the kiss to land on his cheek instead of his lips. 

“I’m all sweaty,” he explained. You quirked a brow. Sweat, dirt, and grime had never stopped the two of you before, but you brushed it off. He was probably just wound up about winning. Mattheo smiled apologetically and kissed your temple. “Let me shower first and then we can cuddle, okay?’ 

You made the mistake of looking into those big, brown eyes. Damn him and his chocolate eyed gaze. The twat knew it was your weakness. 

“Fine,” you said as you crawled underneath the covers. “But hurry up, I’m getting tired.” 

Ten minutes later, you were fully engrossed in your book again. Just as it reached a particularly steamy scene, the door swung open, revealing a half-naked Mattheo. The white towel wrapped precariously around his trim waist gave you a perfect view of his toned chest and ripped abs, beads of water clinging onto his glistening skin like rain drops. You bit your lip as he tugged on a clean pair of boxers over his legs, cocking your head to appreciate the curve of his arse before he slipped into his sweatpants. 

Unaware of your ogling, Mattheo climbed into bed and wrapped his arms around you. “What are you reading, mi amor?” 

“Nothing that can’t wait,” you murmured, leaning in to kiss your boyfriend.

This time, Mattheo gladly accepted the kiss. His lips slanted over yours, sighing softly as you melted into him. Your kisses were soft and sweet, punctuated by cute little pecks that had your boyfriend smiling against your mouth. You took the opportunity to slide your tongue against his, making Mattheo groan as his fingers slipped through your hair. 

“Damn, mami. You missed me that much?” 

You rolled your eyes at his cocky smirk while you climbed into his lap and straddled him. Mattheo gripped your hips, moaning as your lips latched onto his neck. His pretty brown eyes rolled back as you left a trail of kisses along the column of his throat. You raked your nails along his chest, dragging red lines down to his abs, and tracing his happy trail as he captured your lips once more. Mattheo let out a choked groan as you tugged at his waistband. To your surprise, he grabbed your wrist and blinked up at you. 

“Y/N…” Mattheo said breathlessly. “Maybe we should…maybe we should go to sleep.” His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he tried and failed to swallow his own words. 

You raised a brow and settled over his lap, squirming against his hard length as Mattheo bit his lip. “You want to go to sleep? Right now? While I’m on top of you and willing to do whatever you want?” 

Your boyfriend looked pained. Conflict was evident on his face. Without a word, Mattheo nodded. 

“Oh my god,” you blurted in disbelief. “You agreed to that stupid sex ban, didn’t you?”

Mattheo groaned. “Only for a week, love. We really need to win this match.” 

You scoffed. This was absolutely ridiculous. “I know you, Mattheo. You aren’t going to last a week.” 

“Hey! Have a little faith in me.” 

Rolling off of him, you crossed your arms against your chest. “First of all, you didn’t even ask me if I’d be okay with it.” 

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say. With a shit-eating grin, Mattheo cocked his head at you. “It sounds to me like you’re the one who can’t last a week, princesa.” 

“Please,” you said with an eye roll. “I have my book boyfriends to keep me company. I can channel all my sexual energy into reading smut. You, on the other hand? You can’t even make it through class without dragging me into a broom closet.” 

Faster than you thought possible, Mattheo flipped you onto your back and pinned you to the mattress. A cocky smirk curved against his lips as he trailed them down your neck. “Oh?” he hummed, kissing the sweet spot just below your ear, his hand gripping the inside of your thigh, making you press your legs together to suppress the need. The bloody bastard. “But can your book boyfriends touch you like I can?” 

Channeling every ounce of self-control within you, a calm and unbothered expression clicked into place like a mask. You tugged at his curls, forcing him away from your neck. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about me, Matty. I’ll be just fine.” Mattheo released a choked groan when you palmed the front of his boxers. He twitched at your touch, his cock painfully hard. “Looks like you’re not doing too hot, though. Let me know if you need help. You know I’d be more than happy to give you relief, baby.” 

Mattheo cursed under his breath as his own plan backfired on him. Blood rushed down to his cock as you squeezed gently, making him harder and hornier than ever. You chuckled darkly as he grinded against your hand. With one last squeeze, you kissed his cheek and peeled yourself away from his bed. 

“You know where to find me, papi.”

He watched in disbelief as you gathered your things, cute little ass swaying farther and farther away from him as you hauled your bag over your shoulder. “You’re seriously leaving?” 

You smirked and waved at your boyfriend as you pulled the door open. “I have a hot date with my romance novel. Good luck with your pact, babe. You’ll need it.” 

Merlin, Mattheo was going out of his fucking mind. 

For Salazar’s sake, he was starting to get the shakes and it had only been two days since he last had sex. Granted, it felt like an eternity since you were more than determined to get your boyfriend to break. Could lack of sex actually drive a person to the brink of insanity? Mattheo was pretty convinced that the answer was yes as he gaped at the lacy red bra peeking out under your white blouse. 

Had your clothes shrunk in the wash? Mattheo could’ve sworn that your shirt hadn’t been that tight before. You were nearly bursting out of it and the view of your tits pressed together as you leaned across the table to steal a blueberry off of his plate made his mouth water and his dick hard. 

“Stay strong, Riddle,” Theo whispered beside him. “We’ve got this.” 

Never in his life had he wanted to throttle Theo more. The only thing Mattheo had at the moment was a painful fucking boner. Three more days. That’s all he had to endure before they called off this stupid sex pact. 

He could make it. Couldn’t he?

As he looked up at you sucking on a strawberry, Mattheo’s confident wavered. You were truly testing what very little self control that he possessed. You were right when you said that your boyfriend couldn’t last a single class without dragging you into an empty broom closet. You were just so pretty and sexy and hot and that was when you weren’t trying. 

Now that you were determined to tease the fuck out of him, Mattheo didn’t stand a chance. 

All day, you focused on making his life an absolute living hell. Perching on his lap, fixing his tie, smiling prettily while you brushed his curls back and left glossy kiss prints all over his cheeks. His hands were in permanent fists, fingernails digging into the flesh of his palm so deeply that he wouldn’t be surprised to find himself bleeding. This was torture. Cruel and unusual punishment. 

The final straw came when the two of you were studying in the library later that night. Bouncing his leg, Mattheo forced himself to pay attention to the Ancient Runes textbook in front of him instead of ogling you from across the table. It wasn’t working though. Every few minutes, he caught himself glancing up at you. Your lips, your eyes, your hair. There was nothing sexual about you taking notes yet he was so turned on that he felt dizzy. 

Mattheo lowered his head, trying to keep cool. When he looked back up, you were no longer in your seat. Instead, you were reaching for a book on the shelves behind you. Whatever you were looking for was on the lowest shelves, so you bent down to retrieve it. When you did, your skirt rode up, revealing that you weren’t wearing any underwear. Mattheo hissed, scrambling to pull your skirt down. 

”What in Salazar’s name are you doing, Y/N?” Your boyfriend gripped your elbow, anger and frustration radiating off of him in waves. 

You blinked up at him, putting on an innocent smile. “Oh!” you exclaimed, placing a hand on Mattheo’s chest. “Did I forget to wear underwear? Silly me.” 

Your boyfriend groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. He muttered something under his breath repeatedly. Breathing exercises. You bit back a smirk. 

On his third count to ten, Mattheo finally opened his eyes. Without a word, he gathered your belongings and hauled you out of the library. He didn’t speak until the two of you were back in the dungeons. 

“I’m going to study in my room,” Mattheo declared as he handed you your book bag. “You’ll study in yours.” 

You grinned. “Oh, Matty. We both know the only thing you’ll be studying is your cock in your hand.” Mattheo tensed as you traced a finger down his jawline. “What a shame. I’d be more than willing to put an end to your misery if you just admit that the pact is stupid.” 

For Salazar’s fucking sake. Mattheo was so close to calling this whole thing off. He wanted you. Screaming underneath him. Crying from pleasure. Moaning his name. But he couldn’t. He had to stay strong. 

Mattheo sighed and kissed your temple. “Good night, mi amor. I love you. Even though you’re determined to drive me fucking mental.” 

You smiled before pulling him in by his tie. Mattheo groaned as you placed a sweet kiss on his lips, barely giving him a taste of what he wanted. “Love you too, Matty. Sleep tight. I hope you dream of me tonight.” 

With that, he watched you saunter off in the direction of your dorm, skipping through the common room without a care in the world. Mattheo stared up at the ceiling and counted to ten again. 

Friday could not come any fucking faster. 

You had to admit that you were impressed. Your boyfriend had miraculously survived an entire week without sex. 

Despite your best efforts to thwart the stupid pact, Mattheo stayed true to his word. A pretty impressive feat given the fact that you’d practically thrown everything you had into seducing him. Sitting on his lap, licking your lips while he talked, kissing that sweet spot below his jaw, wearing your clothes shorter and tighter than ever, and even sleeping in his favorite silk red set, which you knew was particularly hard for him if the erection pressed against your back all night was any indication. 

Still, Mattheo withstood all of your attempts. 

You would’ve been upset had it not been for the fact that Mattheo looked absolutely pained by the whole ordeal. This entire week, his fists were permanently clenched at his side, his jaw locking and unlocking with every suggestive comment you threw his way, his eyes flickering over your body, groaning in frustration as he tortured himself by looking at what he couldn’t have. 

It was amusing to watch your boyfriend twitch at your every move. As you predicted, you fared better than Mattheo had. After all, you had a wild imagination and a collection of toys to hold you over. That wasn’t to say that you weren’t needy and aching for him, but you had ways of coping. 

“I’m so fucking glad it’s Friday,” Pansy grumbled beside you as she took a swig from her flask. 

After the whole bring Zabini to his knees plan failed, she’d been crankier than ever. Neither one of you expected either of your boyfriends to even make it this far without caving at least once. 

“Me too, babe. As much as I’m rooting for our boys, I can’t wait for this bloody game to be over. Win or lose, I know the sex is going to be insane.” 

Your best friend smirked as she handed you the firewhisky. “I’ll cheers to that, babe.” 

Surprisingly, the tension and frustration helped the boys play better than ever. They were ruthless on the field. Theo and Enzo were vicious as they defended the goalposts, giving way for Blaise and Mattheo to chase after the opposing beaters, nearly taking some poor bloke’s head off with a bludger. You almost felt bad for the Ravenclaws. 

When Draco caught the snitch, you cheered loudly. You and Pansy screamed until your throat felt raw and hoarse by the time the game was officially called. The two of you swayed as you descended from the stands, slightly inebriated from your generous swigs, but you didn’t mind. The liquor kept you warm and served as preparation for a night of drinking and debauchery for the common room party. 

Blaise wasn’t at all surprised that you and Pansy pregamed. In fact, he took the flask and downed the rest before tugging his girlfriend towards the castle. 

“Have fun, you crazy kids!”

Zabini chuckled. “Oh, we will. By the way, your boyfriend’s waiting for you in the locker room.” 

With a conspiratorial wink, Blaise wished you good luck as Pansy grinned from ear to ear. You chuckled before making your way over to the locker room. The doors opened, revealing a very smug looking Theo. With a frown, you swatted the back of his head. 

“Ow!” The brunette exclaimed, rubbing his newly acquired injury. “What was that for?” 

“For encouraging my boyfriend to agree to this stupid sex ban.” You crossed your arms and glared at your friend. “I know it was your idea, Theodore.” 

“Hey! We won the game, didn’t we? So obviously, my idea was brilliant.” 

“It was just dumb luck,” you replied with a scoff. “Honestly, I didn’t think you guys would take it so seriously. Especially you. You’re even worse than Mattheo. Celibacy for a week must’ve been hell, huh?” 

Theo shifted his weight, looking abashed. You narrowed your eyes at him as you read the guilt in his body language. “You little weasel! You caved, didn’t you?” 

“There was this really hot Ravenclaw…” 

“With the opposing team, too? You’re shameless, Nott.” 

“Please don’t tell the guys.” He looked genuinely contrite as he pleaded with his eyes. “They’ll murder me if they knew that I couldn’t even stick to my own pact.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Fine, but you owe me big time.” 

Theo smiled before leaning over to kiss your cheek. “You’re the best. I’d say see you at the party, but with how tense and insane your boyfriend has been, I probably won’t see you two for the next few days.” 

“I wonder who’s fault that is.” 

“The pact was my idea. Teasing him was yours. Honestly, he almost stabbed a fork through my hand because you bent over in front of him.” He smirked as he held the door open. “You’ve got that man on a tight leash.” 

You fought a smile. “Leave before I get the urge to hit you again.” Theo nodded, making his way out. “Oh, and congratulations on the win.” 

After a cheeky wink, Theo was gone. Leaving you to find your boyfriend on your own. When you rounded the corner, you could hear the sound of water running echoing off the tiled walls. You ventured farther in the stalls and found Mattheo standing underneath the scalding hot shower, tipping his head back against the spray. With a smile, you leaned against the wall and admired your boyfriend. Merlin, he really was beautiful. 

Mattheo was a sight to behold; biceps flexing, abs taut, and back muscles tense as he washed away the sweat and grime. Your gaze trailed down to his trim waist, licking your lips as your eyes snagged on his backside. The longing sigh you released gave you away. 

Water glistened on his skin as Mattheo looked over his shoulder, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he surveyed you. Your boyfriend didn’t bother covering himself as he sauntered over to you. His chocolate brown eyes roamed over your body, smiling softly when he saw that you were wearing one of his jerseys. Mattheo traced over his surname embroidered right above your heart. 

“The Riddle name looks good on you, mi amor,” he whispered huskily, backing you against the tile. “I can’t wait to make it official one day.” 

You hummed while you tangled a wet curl between your fingers. “Oh? That won’t be happening any time soon, Matty.” Mattheo frowned as you caressed his cheek. “Not with the way you’ve neglected me this week.” 

“Don’t be like that. You know it was hell for me, princesa.” 

“I know,” you said with a grin. “I’m just teasing you. In reality, I’m kind of impressed. You didn’t cave once even when I threw everything I had at you. You were so good, baby. You crushed those Ravenclaws too.” Mattheo groaned as you kissed his jaw, nipping at his sweet spot. “Maybe the pact wasn’t so stupid after all.” 

Your boyfriend groaned as he gripped your hips and pinned you against the wall. “Oh, I won’t be doing that shit again.” Mattheo rested his hand on the base of your throat, eyes black and filled with lust as he squeezed. “It was torture not to touch you.” 

When you spoke, your voice sounded husky and seductive thanks to his possessive hold. “Could’ve fooled me. You seemed perfectly in control. So much so that maybe we should extend it another week. Abstinence really helps clear the mind, doesn’t it, baby?” 

Mattheo chuckled darkly. He knew you were baiting him. You weren’t used to not getting what you wanted in your relationship. Your boyfriend was well aware that he spoiled you rotten. You were going to make him work for it tonight, but he didn’t mind. In fact, the idea thrilled him. He wouldn’t have been dating you if he wasn’t up to the challenge. 

Without warning, Mattheo tugged you into the shower, making you squeal as the water soaked your clothes. He wasted no time before crashing his lips onto yours, claiming you in a starved and possessive way that had you gasping for breath. Your boyfriend was frantic as he hoisted you up and wrapped your legs around his waist. 

Mattheo sucked harshly at your flesh, his dark chuckle a seductive caress against your skin. You groaned as he grinded his cock against your clothed pussy, which was already throbbing and aching for him. “Brace yourself, sweetheart. We have a whole week to make up for and we’re not leaving here until you’re properly punished for teasing me like the little brat that you are.” 

You flashed him a saccharine smile. “Do your worst, baby.” 

“You’ll regret that, mami.” 

With a wicked grin, Mattheo slid your panties to the side and teased along your folds. He hissed when he felt how soaked you were, practically dripping down his fingers as he eased one into your pussy. You bit down on your lip as the delicious pressure awakened a familiar heat in your core. 

“Not so brave now, are you?” Your boyfriend taunted as he slowly fingered you. After going without, you were embarrassed to find that a simple touch was enough to set your teeth on edge. “This is payback, baby. Wearing those tiny little shirts with your lace bra peeking out. Bending over in front of me knowing that you had no panties on. Grinding on my lap and making me so fucking hard that I almost sprained my wrist wanking off in the restroom like a madman.” 

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.” You rasped, groaning as Mattheo picked up the pace. “Not if this is what I get in return. I like when you’re rough, Matty. It makes me wet.” 

Your head lolled back as he added another finger, curving them inside of you and reaching that spongy spot that had you seeing stars. 

“Good,” Mattheo whispered as he nibbled at your earlobe. “Because I’m about to fuck you until you can’t walk.” 

The filthy words sent you over the edge. Mattheo flicked his thumb over your swollen clit and you clenched around his fingers. “I can feel you squeezing me, pretty girl. So fucking greedy, hm?” 

You let out a choked moan. Mattheo grabbed your wrist and slid your hand down his front. “Do you feel that, princesa? I’ve been hard as fuck for you all week. Are you gonna be a good girl and help me out?” 

“Yes,” you breathed out. “Let me take care of you, papi.” 

Mattheo twitched in your hand as you gripped him, tugging as he watched you with lust blown eyes. The intensity of his stare made butterflies erupt in your stomach. 

“I thought about this while getting myself off this week. Your hands. Your eyes. Your voice.” 

“I thought about you, too,” you confessed. “But it doesn’t compare to the real thing. God, you’re fucking sexy.” You rubbed your thumb over his tip, rubbing his precum over his head. Mattheo whimpered against your neck. “I missed you whimpering for me.” 

“I don’t whimper,” Mattheo countered. 

You raised a brow and picked up the pace, working him until his eyes rolled back. Despite his denial, Mattheo whimpered even louder this time. 

“You’re playing dirty, baby.” 

“I thought you liked it dirty, Matty.” 

“I do,” he said with a smirk before curving his long fingers inside of you. You shuddered as he hit that sweet spot. “Now come on, pretty girl. Come with me.” 

You nodded, picking up the pace and groaning as Mattheo pulled you in for a sloppy kiss. He licked the roof of your mouth, shuddering as he bucked into your hand. You tugged at him, coaxing him to cum as he panted against your neck. 

“Fuck. Don’t stop, baby. I’m so fucking close.” 

“Me too, Matty,” you whimpered, grinding against his fingers to take more. 

The orgasm crackled over you like a lightning strike, singing your veins with heat as your boyfriend continued to fuck you with his fingers. Mattheo wasn’t satisfied with one orgasm. He coaxed another out of you, laughing as you greedily bucked against his hand, biting into his shoulder while the second wave hit. 

By the time your third orgasm rolled around, you genuinely felt as though you’d left your own body. Mattheo only relented when your eyes rolled back and your legs trembled, cries of his name falling sweetly from your lips. 

“Tú eres dulce como el azúcar.”

You opened your eyes slowly and found Mattheo lapping up your cum, swirling and sucking his fingers clean with a smirk. You’re sweet like sugar. Though the words were seemingly innocent, Mattheo was anything but. Your boyfriend knew exactly how much it turned you on when he spoke Spanish and he was definitely using it to his advantage.

“That was just the appetizer, baby. Got you all warmed up for my cock. Think you can take it, Y/N?” 

“I’ve been waiting all week,” you responded hoarsely. 

“It’s worth the wait,” Mattheo declared cockily as he flipped you over. He stripped you of your clothes, carelessly tossing them behind his shoulder while he positioned your hands on the tiled wall. You groaned as he bent you at an angle, smacking your ass before he lined up behind you. “I promise to fucking ruin you, mi pinche puta.” 

Anticipation coiled in your stomach as Mattheo sank in slowly. Both of you groaned as he slid all the way in, twitching as he stuffed you full. It was familiar yet new at the same time. It had always been a tight fit, but given your involuntary break, you could feel yourself struggling to adjust to his size once again. 

Mattheo gripped your hips, leaving bruises in his wake as he slid all the way out. You whined at the loss, but it wasn’t long before he thrusted all the way back in, knocking the air out of your lungs as he set a punishing pace. You braced yourself against the tile as he spread your legs further apart, allowing him to hit an even deeper angle. 

“Oh fuck, how do you always feel so good?” Mattheo grunted as his hips snapped against your ass, brutally burying himself inside of your pussy over and over again. “You were made for me, princesa. We’re perfect together.”

”Matty, baby, please…”

You keened as Mattheo tugged you by the hair, kissing you sloppily as he continued to ruin you. He cupped your tits, flicking his thumb over your nipples as he squeezed your flesh between his rough, calloused hands. Mattheo kneaded your breasts and used the momentum to drive deeper. His palm trailed down your torso, pressing against your stomach to feel himself moving with each thrust. 

Tears streaked your cheeks as your eyes rolled back. “Oh gods. Fuck me. Right there, baby. You fill me up so good. I love being full of you.” 

“Yeah?” Mattheo drawled as his hand crawled up your throat. “You like when I fuck you rough? Deep down, you just want to be treated like a slut. Don’t you, princess?” 

“I do,” you breathed, groaning as Mattheo squeezed your neck. “But I’m only a slut for you, Mattheo.” 

“Damn fucking right, baby.” He said proudly. “This pussy is mine. All fucking mine.” 

You clenched, squeezing him so tightly that Mattheo felt like he might cum then and there. “So greedy. Milking me fucking dry. God, you’re perfect. Mi princesa, mi vida, mi amor.” Your boyfriend shuddered as you grinded against him, picking up the momentum as the two of you neared euphoria. “That’s it, baby. Just like that. Fuck, I’m gonna cum—“

”Cum inside me, Matty. I want to feel you. I want all of it.” 

Mattheo cursed, his body seizing as he came with a loud cry. The sensation of him filling you to the brim, his hot cum dripping out of you and coating the inside of your thighs was enough to send you over the edge. You trembled as the orgasm hit you all at once and nearly passed out from the sheer force of it. 

Fortunately, strong arms wrapped around you before your legs could give out from underneath you. Mattheo pulled you against him, holding your trembling body as you came down from the high. You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder as he cleaned you up. Your boyfriend took his time washing your body, taking great care when it came to your sensitive core. 

You smiled up at him as he lathered shampoo into your hair, letting you return the favor and sighing in satisfaction as you scratched his scalp. Mattheo grinned, flashing you a lovesick smile as you rinsed the product out of his hair. 

“I love you so fucking much,” he whispered softly. 

“I love you more,” you countered.

”Impossible.” 

After the two of you dried off, you leaned against the wall and allowed Mattheo to clothe you in his hoodie and sweats. He tied your shoes before giving you a sweet peck. 

“Ready, princesa?” 

You nodded and took his hand. Without the support of the solid wall, your legs wobbled as you struggled to walk. Mattheo caught you around the waist, a smirk tugging at his handsome face. 

“I warned you, Y/N.” He looked entirely too smug and satisfied for your liking. “Told you I’d fuck you until you couldn’t walk.” 

Your boyfriend chuckled as you rolled your eyes. “Poor baby. Don’t worry, mi amor. Let your Matty take care of you, hm?” 

“I take it back. I kind of hate you right now, Mattheo.” 

You squealed as he picked you up bridal style. He didn’t even break a sweat as he carried you across the field. “No, you don’t. But you can fuck me like you do.” 

“Deal.”

[thanosscross]

my girl - Choi Su-Bong/Thanos x reader 3/? SMUT

A/n: This was supposed to be a short half chapter..but ended up being a full chapter of smut I guess

Summary: After finally getting away from the games, Thanos wants to show you just how much he needed you

warnings: SMUT HOLY HELL SMUT, hair pulling, Thanos being a switch bc obviously, slight degradation, use of the term 'good boy'

You weren't even done eating for ten minutes before Su-Bong's hands were back on your body "I've been waiting for this for days, beauty flower" He whispered, you were both sat in the dining room, Su-Bong was standing though, letting his hands roam your body as you stay seated "Years actually, since you did your little dip move right fucking in front of me during my first shoot" He whispered in your ear, his tone started to grow more frustrated "I just had to keep my mouth shut, not do anything because you did it right in front of my c.e.o" He growled before spinning your seat around, you were now facing him, eyes locking with his waistband of his pants "I never meant it-" He cut you off, letting your chair lean back on two legs until the back of it sat against the table, keeping you at an angle "Lies, beauty flower, lies" He protested, popping one of his pills as he starting to take his black button up off, he couldn't even remember why he was wearing it in the first place when he left for the games. You were nervously fidgeting in your seat watching him closely, he offered his hand up smirking "Baby" He whispered dragging out the petname in a sing song tone, you took the initiative and pulled his lips down to yours, confidently swiping the pill off of his tongue, swallowing it before deepening your kiss with you, moaning against his lips as you felt his tongue swipe across yours.

"Holy shit, I knew you'd sound so fucking amazing" He panted against your lips, letting your head fall to the side, Su-bong took his chance and attacked your neck with his lips and bites "S-Su-bong" You whispered faintly, you were getting so turned on you were getting light headed "Thanos" He demanded, his breath against your neck as he spoke didn't help, you tried to grab him, set yourself level so you could move this to his bedroom, but he just caught the arm rest of the chair and slammed it back against the table "where are you goin, beauty flower?" He asked nipping as the base of your neck "please, su-bong, please" You begged, trying again to sit up, but this time his hand was pressed against your boob using that to keep you sitting back, this time sending you a dangerous glare "P-Please, Thanos" you tried, this seemed to appease him because he slowly lowered the chair to sit back on all fours, lifting you up before you could actually stand on your own "Feel that baby?" He asked, purposely holding you lower on his hips to feel the obvious hard on "Every. fuckin. night" He whispered, squeezing your hips as he brought you towards his room, dropping you on the bed, and compared the shitty mattresses they provided during the games, his felt like a cloud. Setting you down gently, he roughly ripped your top off, it made your heart swoon, he was so rough, but so gentle as the same time.

You arched your back, allowing him to take off the sports bra you wore before you left, it was a little big now, but still fit for the most part. "Holy shit look at those fuckin tits" He marveled, eyes blown wide as the drugs finally hit him, right as he did, you could swear you could feel your high starting. He was quick to take one of your nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around in figure- eights and sucking every four or five swirls. You were coming undone underneath him, your moans sounding like the beat he had been looking for all of life, it was perfect, heavenly, and they just got better as he started to grind his hips into yours, he was so hard you would think his dick was made of concrete, he held it together though, unlike most men you had been with. "You want this baby?" His voice pulled you out of your thoughts, now registering in your mind, his hand was ghosting over the button of your pants, never breaking eye contact as he waited for your go ahead. "Y-Yes Thanos, please" You whispered rising your hips to meet his fingers "I want you to fuck me su-bong, please, only you" You muttered, grabbing the back of his neck pulling his lips to yours "I want to be with you Su-Bong, only you, forever" You whispered, he froze for a moment, before placing his thumb on your chin parting your lips as he slammed his lips into yours, grinding his dick against your clit a lot more direct than before causing you to call out moaning.

"I know baby. You're my girl, of course you only wanna be fucked by Thanos the great" He smirked, you rolled your eyes smacking his chest "Stop calling yourself that before you ruin it" You giggled, he shook his head, using your relaxed nature to press his hips against yours, watching as your hips twitched and bucked against yours. Finally deciding to, Su-Bong unbuttoned your jeans sliding them down your legs effortlessly, smirking at the lacey f/c underwear. He wasted no time ripping them off, lowering himself to be eye level with your pussy that was currently dripping onto his bedsheets. "Fucking fantastic baby" He whispered, spreading your legs as far as he could before slipping his tongue through your folds, gathering the wetness on his tongue before attacking your clit, nipping, sucking, and swirling his tongue around spelling his name out, while you tugged his hair screaming out his name, you weren't going to lie, you had been very sexually frustrated by Su-Bong, especially whenever he mistakenly went into the female bathroom at night right before you, so you knew he was packing large.

"S-Su-Bong!" You squealed, feeling yourself get closer to cumming, the tight ball in your stomach growing larger, the more you felt his movements against your desperate pussy, you lost it whenever he shoved his tongue inside of you, curling and flicking his tongue as he wrapped his arms around your thighs pulling you back down to his mouth. Your chants were going unheard on Su-bong's ears, he was too enthralled with your body and pussy and how amazing it tasted and felt, as he curled his tongue again and felt you squeeze around his tongue and pulled his hair he whined, grinding against the bed whispering soft begs under his breath. "Fuck! Please! yes right there! Oh fuck yes! Fuck yes that's such a good boy!" You screamed out, twisting your hand in his fluffy hair, Thanos let out a mixture of whine and moan as his dick twitched inside of his jeans, cum spurting out of the tip, getting trapped inside of his boxers and smearing as he continued to grind against the bed desperate for another release. You picked up on his demeanor, starting to grind against his mouth, moaning even louder "Fuck Su-bong! Such a good boy, keep eating your girl's pussy! Fuck make me cum like a good boy" You begged, squealing as his fingers pinched and twisted your nipple, his other hand using your free boob as a stress ball, twisting and squeezing as he continued to curl and twist his tongue inside of you, his hips grinding against the bed faster as he felt more liquid start to spill out of you "Fuck! Su-Bong! Faster please! Be a good boy for me and fucking go faster please" You half demanded half begged, Su-bong had fully switched though, desperate to please you in any way you ask, as long as he could hear those amazing words fall from your lips again. He grunted against your clit as you tugged his hair roughly, cum rushing into his mouth, filling his cheeks as he greedily tried to gather it all, whimpering as you pulled him away by his hair "Come here, baby" You whispered, watching him swallow your cum, making your stomach start to turn again, you slowly pressed your lips to his collarbone, sucking gently as you slowly traced a hand to his hard on that was prominently showing from his jeans, you could feel the dampness even through the denim and almost felt bad, here you just had one of the bed orgasms of your life, and he had to cum in his pants like an awkward teenager.

"p-please" His whimpers were soft, quiet, almost embarrassed as he grinded his hips against your hand "I will baby, don't worry..." You whispered starting to undo his button and zipper "What happened to thanos the great?" You teased, you could tell this was a different side of Su-bong, one you had never seen before "D-Don't care, just want to be your good boy" He whispered cupping your head in his hand as you moved onto your third hickey "Why don't..you be a good boy, su-bong, and fuck me" You whispered licking a soft stride over his bottom lip before wrapping your hand around his cock pulling it out of it's confines, you could see the glossiness of the cum from earlier, you could also see Su-bong's face go bright red, and him start to retreat, you caught his hands pulling him down onto his back, straddling him "What's wrong, baby? Cum in your pants like some school boy?" You teased softly, watching his face go an even deeper shade of red as he looked away from you "It's cute" You whispered grabbing his dick that stood at full attention, you kept your eyes trained on him as you slowly positioned your pussy over his dick and slowly pushed it inside of you. Su-Bong jolted, his legs bending and hands falling to your hips trying to lift you back up "What's wrong baby, talk to me" You whispered pressing your lips against his neck "T-Too good" He whined quietly "Aww, it's okay baby" You whispered kissing him softly as you slowly lowered yourself fully, letting him bottom out inside of you, Su-bong wouldn't admit it but he was already about to have his second orgasm, he couldn't help it, not only had it been a minute since he actually fucked a woman, but a woman like you who also likes calling him a good boy? he doesn't think he'll ever last over an hour with you.

Su-bong was a whining mess underneath you, trying to buck his hips or roll them, but you kept your pace steady, arching your back and moaning, feeling Su-Bong's hands cup your tits you rolled your hips against his "M gonna cum, y/n, please beauty flower, holy shit please" He begged, throwing his head back, you slowly leaned down taking a handful of hair tugging his head back watching him bite his lip harshly "Cum. Be a good boy, I wanna feel every bit" You whispered as you slowed your hips, Su-Bong took the hint and grabbed your hips, roughly flipping you over, starting to fuck you so hard you could hear the head board slamming against the wall, you tried your best to hold your composure but he was like a god in the sheets, one hand expertly playing with your clit while the other twisted and pinched both of your nipples back and forth. It all sealed your fate whenever he leaned over whispering in your ear "Am I your good boy, ma'am?" before kissing your deeply, not having any shame with how messy the kiss was. You both cried out as he came inside of you, he gripped onto your left boob tightly as he came, panting against your lips, you could faintly hear him chanting yes and please, and you could've swore you heard him call you mommy once or twice. Feeling the warmth spread inside of you, your body convulsed bending forward towards Su-bong's chest, he moaned out feeling you tighten around him, you squealed as you felt the cum drip from around his cock that was becoming hard again, intensifying any pleasure you already felt. Su-Bong shamelessly start to buck his hips again, turning into a blubbering mess of yes's and pleases and again you could've sworn you heard a mommy in there as well.

"Su-Bong fuck! I didn't say you could fuck me again, fucking slut" You grunted, pulling his hair back so you could see his twisted face "I-m sorry! P-Please your pussy- I-I can't" He begged, his hips twitching as he tried to pull out, crying out whenever you wrapped you legs around his hips "don't you dare fucking pull out" You growled, his cock was now harder than he had ever had it, at least he thought, and the way your pussy was wrapped around him made it feel like it was hard as a rock. You wrapped your arms around his neck, signaling to lift you, he did as he was told, whimpering as he tried not to fuck you crazy right then and there, you never spoke though, just pointing towards the wall. Walking over, and carefully setting you down he whimpered, and you could feel him almost lose his balance, you leaned forward, using your hands to stabilize yourself against the wall, spreading your legs and bending slightly, Su-Bong moaned again, placing one hand on your hip and another in your hair "Fuck me Su-Bong, make me one of your girls" You said lowly, that seemed to flip something in him, his thrusts becoming rough and fast, his grip tightening as he slammed his cock into you "You wanna be one of thanos's girls? Wanna be in the thanos world, baby?" He asked panting as his cock slid in and out of you, you couldn't speak though, just nodding your head "Let Thanos blow your fuckin world then, baby" He grunted, you didn't think he could be any rougher, you'd be lying if you said you didn't like it though, your back arched again and his grip tightened even more, you couldn't even tell he was cumming while his thrusted inside of you until you felt some drip onto your thigh "Fuck yea baby, you like that? you like whenever Thanos fucks you good?" He asked, you were so close, grabbing his hand from your hair you moved it to your boobs, he used the new vantage point to pull you against his chest as he fucked you. "You gonna cum, baby? Oh fuck yea you are, I can feel it, go ahead baby, let that feeling grow and grow" He whispered using his other than to ghost over your stomach "Feel your pussy trying to pull my cock deeper, like a desperate slut? Means your probably dripping right now" He whispered swiping a finger where your pussy and his cock met, pushing his finger into your mouth "Taste it? just the taste makes my cock hard" he whispered, your whines were getting more frequent and high pitched "There you go baby, squeeze my cock, ride it, use my cock like a toy" He demanded, pressing his hand onto your stomach, he gasped as he felt you squirt around him "Yess baby, let it all out, just keep ridin that dick" He whispered starting to thrust his hips slower to meet your hips bucking against his "Such a good slut for, Thanos, aren't ya?" He asked squeezing your nipple in between his finger tips, you whimpered leaning back and slumping against Su-Bong, he held you up effortlessly, slowly pulling out of you and helping you walk to the bed "Um...I don't..know how this really works..I'm getting some weed and some water..do you want some?" he asked, you smiled softly still trying to catch your breath "P-Please" You whimpered trying to find a comfortable way to sit, he was quick to come back and claim his spot next to you on the bed, handing you a water bottle with a quick peck to your lips "That was..fantastic baby..better than I ever dreamt of" He panted, you giggled, remembering to ask him to elaborate more on his statement later.

---

I need some holy water and JESUS

[dontbesoweirdkira]

There's just so much potential for platonic !yan Tim Drake that isn't really explored. This post may flop but I like to imagine that yan! Tim Drake is actually the worse out of all his brothers...

Masterlist

Requests: always open

Look...you and i both know that Tim is canonically unhinged. But Batsis!reader doesn't. It's so easy for you to forget that your brother Tim is so dangerous. I mean he doesn't really seem all that different from any other nerdy 19 year old. His body doesn't loom over you like the more bulky of your brothers, and his presence is rather...calming? I mean there's still a bit of uneasiness there but it's so subtle that you can brush it off

He's normal when he interacts with you. He doesn't bug you to spend time with him or uncomfortably touch you like Dick does. He is sweet and gentle...He knows how you prefer to be engaged with and respects what you don't like.

But, that's what makes him so dangerous. He knows you. Every. Last. Detail. He's gotten so good at being a nasty little fly on the wall that sometimes you forget he's even in the room. He's always around you, observing and collecting data. He's got you wrapped around his fingers and you don't realize it.

But it's not your fault. It's hard to even imagine that someone as mellow as Tim could ever share the same traits as his brothers.

Yan! Tim fully picked up just how intuitive you are and how you can spot red flags easily. He's so calculated and careful with every interaction. It's amazing how natural he makes these conversations flow. Well, they better. He's spent hours analyzing and practicing how to speak to you. His heart is pounding with anticipation, as every shred of information you give him is going right into his files on you.

Oh! The files he has on you? When Jason and Dick asked him about how many he had, he said only 4. Which is true. but those 4 files have much more information and pictures of you than they could comprehend. ...and he wasn't accounting for the hard drives and physical stacks of papers he stole. I believe Tim knows more about you than you do. When was the last time you've seen your medical records? Passports? Birth certificate? Is your ID even in your wallet? Don't worry, your brother Tim is keeping them safe for you.

Yan! Tim is a little stalker who may or may not have put a tracking/listening devices in your bag so he can keep tabs on you. <33 That's why he's always wearing headphones so he cab listen in. A small piece of missed information could cost him so much. Don't be mad, batsis! He cannot risk making you suspicious of him by asking you invasive questions so this is the only way.

I Like to think you automatically sit by him. whether it be during breakfast, watching a movie or in the car. You feel safer with him and it's a better option in your head than being with Dick who will be overbearing. Tim always acts cool, even a little annoyed by you at times but inside he's screaming. Your scent, your small smiles at him and nudge his shoulders when he makes a funny remark all send him into overdrive.

But i must say, it's exhausting for him to hold back his obsession all of the time. Sometimes he envies his siblings and how shameless they are in their obsessions. Tim Drake thinks about how great it would to be to just be hugged by you or for you to want to fall asleep on him like you do with Jason.

Sometimes, our creepy detective will slip up. He will say or do something that is odd to you

"I cannot remember the name of that song i used to listen to...what was it.."

"It's this one by that local band, sis."

"oh, yeah! wait...how did you-"

"I know you better than i know myself..."

"...what?"

*an incident happened where dick basically forced you to say i love you back. Tim was there and he was so so jealous*

"You love me the most though, right?"

You laughed, thinking it was a joke\

"Sure, Tim. You are my favorite Robin."

*Tim is very visibly becoming feral. Almost in the same way as Dick and you are slightly alarmed*

"...I'm your favorite Robin? So you do love me more than them."

"0-o"

He repeats it over and over again in his mind. If he was recording it like he does with many of your interaction, it will be on instant replay every morning as an affirmation.

That one time you were chilling in the study with Tim. His head was ducked, low into the computer. It was super late by this time and you didn't really want to bother him so you ended up leaving without saying anything, and headed to your room. Tim was beyond hurt that you were breaking his version of bonding time and you had the audacity to not even announce your exit. He's so swift that it startled you when he grabbed your wrist from behind. His grip was....strong.... to say the least..... and he questioned why you were leaving him.

speaking of his strength, Tim is so skinny that you forget he is well trained with a nice bit of muscle. Maybe not as strong as his brothers or Bruce but he can easily subdue you.

He's definitely broken a lock or two, to get into your room at the dead of night and watch you sleep. This is the only time when he can be as fucked up as he wants to. The unhinged look in his eyes while going through your things and taking what's interesting..The adrenaline that you might catch him, excites him. He can't help but to sickly smile as he makes his way over to you and observes. A gentle hand caresses the sides of your face. You're so perfect. He whispers on and on things he wishes he could tell you while you were awake and wouldn't think it was weird....

Maybe even once he's crawled into bed with you, wrapping his arms around you. So happy to be able to finally be able to cuddle like this.

And if you happened to wake up, and realize your dear brother, Tim was there...he has a plan for that. He knows how to play mind games on you and makes you seem like the crazy one. No one would believe you anyways. The locks are all fixed by the morning.

[rosenclaws]

Over and Over Again || DOFP!Logan x Reader

Summary: Logan wakes up in 2023 in a brand new timeline. In this world you're still alive and you're married, but he doesn't remember a thing.

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending

wc: 3.5k

a/n: damn bro these song fics keep getting longer and longer lmao. Anyways here is my third instalment of a fic based on “Would You Fall In Love With Me Again” from Epic the Musical. I hope you like this one too! If you wanna read the other two you can find them here and here

Yesterday everything made sense. Yesterday you woke up next to your husband Logan, made coffee, graded a few essays, trained with Logan in the danger room, and then went to dinner. You kissed him good night and turned out the light to go to bed. Today? Your whole fucking life is being flipped upside down.

You knew something was wrong the moment you saw Logan standing barefoot in Charles' office. He had this look on his face. A mix between confusion and grief. A longing in his eyes that just didn't make sense when you had kissed him good morning only a few hours ago.

"You're alive?" Logan says breathlessly, his eyes widening as the words leave his mouth.

Realizing his mistake immediately. But he couldn't help himself. Not when the last memory he had of you was holding you as you died.

"Charles, what's going on?" You asked in a panicked voice. Logan, this Logan, your? Logan, reached out for you but you stepped back. You don't know why but you just did it. Though it's hard to see the hurt in Logan's eyes when you do.

"My dear," Charles says softly, his eyes darting from you to Logan.

"I think you should sit down for this."

You aren't the only one to be called into Charles office. Standing around you was Ororo, Jean, Scott, and Hank. Before you stood Logan with his arms crossed as Charles weaves a wild and frankly impossible story.

This Logan is not the man you knew.

He's from an alternate timeline where the X-Men were being hunted and eradicated, the world being over run by these things called the Sentinels. How everyone in this room was dead in Logan's world. The last chance they had was sending his consciousness back in time to stop the chain of events and according to Charles he had done it. He had saved the world and everyone in this damn mansion. But at the cost of his own memories, his own life in a way.

"Jean, please stay. I want you to help in attempting to get his memories back. The rest of you thank you and please do not tell anyone else about this." Everyone starts to move but you.

You stay seated in your seat, unsure of what to do. Do you go up to him? He's still your husband after all, but is he? You feel his eyes staring into your head as you finally make your move and get up. Walking right up to him.

"Hi, Logan." You say softly.

"Hi." You bite your lip nervously as you try and think of something to say. There's this awkward tension between the two of you. Something you haven't felt since you first met. Though you guess this is technically a first meeting. It's really confusing.

"Logan, shall we begin?" Charles cuts through your thoughts. You don't want to leave, in fact you have a million questions that will pour out once you figure out how to talk to him. But it's going to have to wait.

"I uh...I'll find you after." He mumbles, his hand moves to cup your face but he stops before he can actually touch you.

"Yeah, I'll see you after." You smile awkwardly and gently grab his hand, giving it a small squeeze before leaving. Logan wants so badly to hold on, to tighten his grip and never let you leave his side. But he can't. So he just lets you go.

You waited. Hours passed and you heard nothing from Logan or Jean or Charles. Every hour you'd pass by the office, hearing muffled voices coming from the other side of the door. It was tearing you apart just waiting for them to be done. But that's all you can do.

By the time the sun goes down you give up on waiting for Logan. Slinking to a small corner of the mansion. What if something horrible happened? What if they can't get his memories fixed and he'll never remember what your life was like together. How you met, how you fell in love, how he proposed, your first dance. Did he truly forget it all? You rest your head in your hands as you listen to the grandfather clock tick and tick.

Or...does he remember it all. Does he remember it and regret it? You're dead in his timeline. So what if you two were never meant to be together, what if he remembers both timelines and...he doesn't want you anymore.

You trudge back to your room, wanting to just sleep. Maybe when you wake up tomorrow this will all be some insane dream. Unfortunately you forgot that you share a room with Logan. As you open the door you see him sitting on the bed. A cigar in his hands as he stares out the window. Though he quickly turns around when he hears you.

"Hi, again." He says, snuffing out the cigar.

"Hi." Fuck can you say any other word but hi to his man?

"How did it go with the professor?" You ask, wringing your hands together behind your back. Logan shrugs and the look on his face doesn't give you much hope.

"Not great." You just nod, unsure of what to say next.

"I um, Chuck set up another room for me so...I'm gonna sleep there tonight." Logan winces as he sees your face fall. He doesn't want to be apart from you but it's what's best. He needs to sort out his...well everything. Besides, he's practically a stranger to you now.

"Oh." You squeak out.

"If that's what you want." It's not.

Still Logan just nods his head and stands up, grabbing a few things and silently slipping past you.

"Room 246. I'm in room 246." He tells you, staring at you one last time before leaving you alone in your bedroom.

You sleep like utter shit. You're so used to having Logan by your side that being alone just fucking sucks. You miss him so much. You contemplated going to his room but you didn't think he wanted you there. Logan has another session with Charles in the morning. You only see a glimpse of him before he disappears into the office. You wonder if he feels just as miserable as you do.

The next week is filled with the same tension and unbearable awkwardness. It's like he's a ghost. Only there when you turn around, out of the corner of your eye. You hated it. God it was awful, you longed to be next to him. For him to hold you again, kiss you. You don't even know why he's avoiding you. Logan had always been difficult when it comes to opening up but Logan, your Logan was getting better at it.

It's well into the night and you're still sitting in an empty classroom. You don't really sleep in your bed anymore. It reminds you too much of him. There's a couch near your desk anyways. With Logan in memory recovery you have been covering his classes. You sit in silence as you grade the latest test when you hear heavy boots approaching you.

"It's late," You look up to see Logan leaning against the doorframe.

"I know, but I need to get this done." You gesture to the stack of tests next to you.

"You need to sleep, I've noticed you haven't been doing that much." Your heart skips a beat, has he really been keeping tabs on you like that.

"I'll be okay Logan, really." You say gently. But your answer isn't good enough for him. You watch as he walks over to your desk and grabs half of the tests and a red pen.

"Logan It's fine really," You argue but he doesn't listen.

"What if-" You stop yourself before you finish the question.

"What if my history is different? Don't worry sweetheart I went back to the 70's not the civil war." The nickname rolls of his tongue with ease, he doesn't even realize he said it until he sees you get shy.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." Logan apologizes, silently kicking himself. He never should have come here. He just. He just really misses you.

"Don't apologize, It's just been a while since you called me that." You try to hide the soft smile by propping a paper up to block your face. Time passes, the only sounds being the scribbling of pens.

"Damn, Was I that bad of a teacher?" He asks as he crosses out a whole paper in red pen. You giggle and Logan looks up, a smile on his face as he hears that sweet sound.

"You're not a bad teacher, you're the favorite actually. Though sometimes you play favorites with your students." You tease, remembering how easy Jubilee could get out of being late just by bringing Logan coffee in the morning.

"Favorite? I doubt that." He snorts, Logan isn't exactly the fresh faced happy go lucky teacher that you bring an apple to. In fact he never considered himself much of a teacher of anything.

"It's true, you're tough on them but they just love you." "That doesn't sound like me." Logan jokes, though he quickly regrets his word choice when he sees your eyes cloud with sadness.

"I..." He sighs, great he fucked this up already.

"It's okay, sorry I just, I'm still getting used to all this." You offer him a small smile but he can see right through it. You're still his wife after all and he knows you.

"How are you? This must be a lot for you." You ask, turning the conversation away from you.

You've been so focused in your own grief that you hadn't given what he must be feeling much thought. You start to feel guilty, I mean this can't be easy for him either. Logan sets the red pen down. Sighing as he runs his hands through his hair.

"I'll be alright sweetheart," He doesn't want you to worry about him.

"Please, talk to me." You reach your hand out.

Your left hand. The one with the wedding band still sitting on your finger. Logan's breath hitches as he recognizes that ring. It's a little worn from the years of wear but he knows it. He bought that ring for you a long time ago.

"I feel like a ghost. I remember my old timeline and Jean and Charles have been able to unlock bits and pieces of this one but it doesn't feel real." He admits.

"Do you regret it? Changing the timeline?" You ask and Logan shakes his head.

"No." Not at all. In fact even with all this confusion he would do it again in a heartbeat. Anything if it means you're alive. You start to ask another question but a yawn cuts through your words.

"Alright, it's bedtime now." Logan says with little room for argument. He gets up and heads to the door but you don't follow. He turns around to see you laying out a blanket on the couch.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" You jump at the harshness of his voice.

"I've been sleeping on the couch the last couple nights." You say casually.

Though to Logan it's like a knife to the heart. Not on his watch. You roll your eyes seeing the look on his face, that protective grumpy look.

"It's comfortable and my room is too far, I'm just going to take a short nap. You grumble. You always were stubborn and Logan knows there's no changing your mind.

"Fine." He shuts off the lights and walks over, sitting on the edge of the couch putting a pillow on his lap.

"Logan..."

"Come on, just a nap right?" You're too tired and if you're honest too selfish to pass this up.

To be this close to Logan again is a dream. You settle down with your head in his lap groaning as your head sinks to rest on his big thighs. Logan drapes a blanket over you, his hands coming to rub your back in a gentle soothing motion. It doesn't take long before you're out like a light. Drifting to sleep faster than you have all week.

When you wake up you're not in your classroom anymore. In fact you're in a bed with the covers tucked in and the sunlight streaming through the window.

"Just a nap right?" You mimic in a high pitched voice as you get out of bed. It becomes very clear the moment you spot the clothes in the corner of the room that this isn't your bedroom.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out who's it is. You take one of the pillows and hug it to your chest. The smell of Logan's cologne wraps around you. Fuck you missed waking up next to him. You gently set the pillow down and swipe one of the shirts sitting on the floor before darting back to your room.

"Good morning sweetheart, sleep well?" Logan asks as you walk into the kitchen.

"Yeah, I haven't slept that well in a couple days." You sigh as he hands you a cup of coffee.

You take a sip and to your surprise it's perfect, just how you like it. Before you can say another word Logan is already gone. The hope in your chest deflating just a little bit. But last night was the closest you've been since he came back. It's a step in the right direction.

It's another week of dancing around each other. You talk more, laugh more. He still sleeps in a separate room but you find yourself spending more time together. It's little things that you notice first. That he still hates pop music and he drinks black coffee. His favorite brand of beer is still Molson. In small ways it's like you have him back. But then you see that he picks the salt and vinegar chips over plain and it all comes crashing down again. How stupid is that? Heartbroken of his favorite chip flavor? But to you it's just a reminder that he is different. But does that even matter?

You find yourself drifting to sleep in your bed this time, holding onto Logan's shirt as a way to soothe you to sleep. But you're quickly pulled from dreamland by a loud knock on your door. It's frantic and quite startling. You throw the covers off and stumble to the door, throwing it open to see who's bothering you so late.

"Logan?" You ask half asleep, rubbing your eyes as you see him standing in front of you. You notice the fearful look in his eyes and it seems to snap you awake. You step aside and let him in.

"I didn't mean to wake you. I just needed to see you." He's tense and his eyes keep darting around the room, like he's waiting for an attack. Seeing you is slowly helping his brain but every time he closes his eyes his nightmare replays in his head. He looks down at his hand and swears he sees blood.

"Logan, come here." You take his hands, covering his palms with yours and guiding him to the bed.

"I don't want to bother you sweetheart," He mumbles, his resolve breaking pretty quickly as he lays his head next to yours.

"Tell me about it, your nightmare." He furrows his brows in confusion, how did you know?

"I know that look." You cup his face and smile. It feels so right to be next to him right now. Logan sighs, his hand covering yours as he just soaks in being next to you. That nightmare felt so real, probably because it was.

"It was the day I lost you. In my timeline."

"The sentinels?" You ask but he shakes his head.

"No you...you died before they were even created. Probably for the best. It was a mission. A simple one that went to shit so quickly." It was all Logan's fault. He woke up every day knowing that if he had been faster, been better. You would still be alive.

"They took advantage of my super senses, they overwhelmed me with noise and smells. I tried to fight through it I really did, but I was too weak." Logan feels you wipe his cheek, a tear he didn't even realize was falling.

"By the time it was over, you were fatally wounded. I held you in my arms. I begged you not to go. Not to leave me but it was too late." Your eyes cloud with tears as Logan tells his story.

The absolute grief in his voice, god how horrible. You don't know what you'd do if Logan died, how you'd even continue on. Yet this man kept fighting, kept saving peoples lives. Even when he wanted to give up and walk away.

That's the Logan you know. He'll always be the hero he never thinks he is. So what if there's a few differences. At his core Logan will always be the man you fell in love with.

"I'm so sorry," You whisper, you crawl onto his chest and hug him tightly.

Your face buried in his neck. He holds you tight. Breathing in the smell of your shampoo. He holds you for a long time before loosening his grip on you. The urge to stay like this forever is strong but there's a nagging in the back of his head. He's over stayed his welcome.

"I should get back to my room." He gently lays you back on the bed and moves to get up.

"What?" You ask in disbelief, scrambling to grab onto his arm.

"Please don't go Logan. Please the last two weeks have been horrible without you. I miss you, I miss my husband." You beg, tears falling down your cheeks.

"Sweetheart I'm not the man you married." He wipes away your tears.

"I miss you too. So fucking much. But it's best I keep my distance."

"Logan please! What do you mean you're not the man I married?!" You grab his shirt and pull him close to you. Logan grabs your wrists firmly but gently.

“You were my guiding light, the only thing that kept me going in the right direction. When I lost you, It felt like I lost myself." He tries to pry your hands off of him but you stand firm.

"I stayed with the team, I fought and killed and maybe they called me a hero. But it was never the same. I lost my way."

"But you saved the world, you're still my hero." Logan just chuckles sadly.

"I didn't give a fuck about the world." He confesses. He did care. Sort of. He knew that he was the X-Men's only hope when he got sent back. But his real motivation, his true motivation was you.

"Sweetheart, I may have saved the world but I did it for you. It’s always you.” He did it for the chance that he could save you, that somehow going back to 1973 would undo everything, that you'd be alive. He would sacrifice everything if it meant you got to live another day.

So when he woke up and saw that it had worked, he had never felt such relief. But the way you looked at him, you were scared. So uncertain. He couldn't just pick you up in his arms and kiss you like he had dreamed of. You were married in this world but he understood that he had essentially replaced the Logan that you knew.

So he kept his distance. The more he learned from Charles the more the other Logan sounded better. This Logan never had to stab Jean or watch his friends die one by one. How could he ever compare? He'd rather you be alive, even if it breaks his heart.

"I love you Logan, I love you so much." The words flood out of your mouth, unstoppable as you finally get the chance to see the truth about Logan.

"You're mine. Always. We belong together. Our love transcends timelines, universes, and all that bullshit."

"Don't you love me?"

"Of course I fucking love you don't you ever doubt that." He snaps.

He pushes you away because he loves you, he doesn't think he's worthy because he loves you so fucking much. He'd kiss the ground you fucking walk on if you asked.

"Then listen to me Logan." You grab his face and smash your lips on his, kissing him desperately.

Logan groans as he wraps his arms around your waist. You fall onto the bed, Logan propping himself up with his elbows. You tug on his hair, messing it up as you comb your fingers through it. You pull apart breathlessly, almost brought to tears from just getting to kiss your husband again.

"You're it for me Logan, forever." You mumble as he rests his forehead against yours.

"I love you too sweetheart, I missed you so much." He cradles your face in his hand, legs interlocked as the sheets become a tangled mess.

"How long has it been since you saw me?" You ask, Logans eyes filling with tears as he listens to your heart beat against his chest.

"Over 50 years." As the moon shines through the window the only thing on both of your minds is how lucky you truly are to have found a love like this.

To be destined to be together in every timeline, every world. It's you and Logan.

[amethystarachnid]

hi!! natasha romanoff x fem!reader 13 trope pls? thank you!💗

SWAPPED

⤷ NATASHA A. ROMANOFF

ᯓ★ Pairing: Natasha A. Romanoff x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: fluff, romance

ᯓ★ From: MARVEL Love is in the air - Valentine's Day special game

ᯓ★ Word count: 7.1k

ᯓ★ Summary: during a mission you and Natasha get body swapped by an artifact so, until Bruce and Tony find a way to get you back in your own body, you two are blocked. The already disastrous situation only worsens if you think that you are inside the body of the woman you have a crush on

ᯓ★MARVEL Love is in the air - Valentine's Day special game

ᯓ★ TW(s): some innuendos and tony's jokes

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The rhythmic hum of the Quinjet fills the space between you and Natasha. It’s one of those comfortable silences, the kind that only comes from spending years side by side in life-or-death situations. You sit across from her, legs slightly spread, fingers playing with the frayed edges of your gloves. She's leaned back, arms crossed, her head tilted against the wall, the soft overhead light catching the reddish strands of her hair.

You shouldn’t be staring. But you are.

Her eyes are closed, lashes dark against her pale skin, and for a moment you let yourself have this—watching her like this, peaceful, completely unaware of the way your heart hammers against your ribs just from being near her. You tell yourself it’s harmless. She doesn’t know. She’ll never know.

It’s been like this for a while now. Years, actually. You’re friends—good friends—and that’s all it’s supposed to be. That’s what you keep telling yourself. But there are nights, in the quiet of your own room, when you replay moments between you two, when the air feels heavier, charged, and wonder if maybe she ever thought about you the way you think about her.

But then you remember every sly smirk she’s thrown at a cute waiter, every flirtatious comment she’s batted toward some attractive guy during missions, and you push it all back down. Natasha Romanoff doesn’t like women, and she definitely doesn’t like you. At least, not like that.

“Earth to Y/N,” Natasha’s voice cuts through your thoughts, and your heart stutters painfully.

You blink, realizing too late that her eyes are open now, green and sharp, staring right at you. Caught.

“Zoned out there for a second,” you say, forcing a small smile, hoping your face isn’t betraying you.

Natasha quirks a brow, the corner of her mouth lifting. “Thinking about the mission?”

You nod too quickly. “Yeah. Of course.”

She hums, clearly not buying it but letting you off the hook. “You’re cute when you lie.”

The words hit you square in the chest, even though you know they’re nothing more than a tease. She always does this—throws out little comments that make your head spin, but never with any real weight behind them. Still, your stomach flutters embarrassingly.

You scoff, trying to play it cool. “You’d know. You’re the queen of lies.”

She grins, sharp and amused. “Touché.”

The comms crackle, and you’re grateful for the distraction. “Approaching the target,” comes Sam’s voice through the speakers. “We’re two minutes out.”

You pull yourself together, focusing on the mission. It’s supposed to be simple: in and out, retrieve some weird artifact that SHIELD flagged as dangerous. But nothing ever really goes according to plan.

The Quinjet dips lower, and you and Natasha both rise, moving in sync like you always do. Her presence is grounding, even when your heart is a mess. She gives you a look, the one that says we’ve got this, and you nod.

The building is dark, abandoned, with only the occasional flicker of a broken light illuminating the dust-filled air. You and Natasha slip through the corridors with ease, your footsteps nearly silent. It’s like this every time—the two of you moving together like a well-rehearsed dance. But still, you feel the tension in the pit of your stomach. Maybe it’s the mission. Maybe it’s just her.

You find the artifact in a room that looks more like an ancient temple than part of a crumbling office building. It sits on a pedestal, glowing faintly—a sphere of dark glass with strange runes etched along its surface.

“Looks easy enough,” you whisper, inching closer.

“Famous last words,” Natasha murmurs beside you.

You shoot her a look. “You jinxed it.”

She smirks, but there’s caution in her eyes now. “Let me take a look first.”

You step aside as she approaches the pedestal, fingers hovering over the orb but not touching it. There’s a beat of silence, and then—because of course—something shifts in the air. A pulse radiates out from the sphere, like a ripple through water, and you barely have time to react before it hits both of you.

You feel it deep in your chest, like your whole body is being stretched and compressed all at once. There’s a sharp, blinding light, and your vision blacks out.

When you come to, everything feels... off.

You’re lying on the cold floor, but your body feels strange—heavier in places, lighter in others. There’s a weird disconnect, like your brain isn’t entirely synced with your limbs. You groan, pushing yourself up, but even your voice sounds different.

And then you see yourself.

Or rather, your body. Across the room, sitting up just like you, wearing that same expression of confusion and dawning horror.

“Y/N?” Natasha’s voice comes out of your mouth. Her eyes—your eyes—are wide.

You look down at yourself—except it’s not yourself. It’s Natasha’s body. Her black tactical suit, her gloves, her—

“Oh my god,” you breathe, hands flying to your chest where, yes, you can feel everything that makes Natasha Natasha. “This can’t be happening.”

Natasha scrambles to her feet—well, your feet. “We swapped,” she says flatly, already more composed than you feel.

“No shit,” you snap, but your voice—her voice—makes it sound more seductive than pissed.

There’s a beat of silence before Natasha quirks an eyebrow, still in your body. “I sound hot.”

You glare at her, but it’s hard to focus when your body is standing there, hands on hips, looking at you with your face. It’s beyond weird. And then there’s the fact that you’re inside Natasha’s body right now, every inch of it hyper-aware.

You try not to think about it. About how many times you’ve imagined touching her, being close to her, and now—now you are her.

“This is bad,” you mutter.

Natasha crosses her arms—your arms. “Could be worse.”

You blink at her. “How?”

She smirks. “At least I don’t have to do my own makeup tomorrow.”

Despite yourself, you snort, but the sound that comes out is so soft and melodic that it makes you self-conscious all over again.

“Okay,” you say, trying to focus. “We need to fix this. Get back to the Quinjet, call for backup—something.”

But as you move, you realize that walking in her body feels different—more balanced, stronger. Your limbs respond, but there’s an elegance to it that you never noticed before, at least not from the inside. You can’t help but glance down, and immediately regret it.

Natasha catches you staring.

“Enjoying the view?” she teases, a wicked glint in your—her—eyes.

You flush, but it’s hidden behind her perfect features. “Shut up.”

“Hey, if I were you—” she gestures to herself, “—I’d take advantage of the situation.”

You want to die.

But the thing is, she has no idea. No idea that inside your head, the thoughts are spiraling. Being in her body is like standing too close to the sun—intense, blinding, dangerous. Your brain is a mess of don’t think about it and holy shit, I’m her right now.

“Let’s just get out of here,” you say, voice tight.

You make your way back through the building, trying your best to focus on walking normally, not gawking at the way her body moves, how natural it feels, how strong. But you can’t help the intrusive thoughts—the ones that creep in despite your best efforts.

I wonder what it feels like to fight like her. To stretch, to—

You shake your head, forcing your mind away from the edge.

Natasha, meanwhile, seems to be having a great time. She whistles at one point, and you glare at her.

“Really?”

“What? I’ve never had your legs before. They’re nice.”

You want to scream. Or melt into the floor.

When you finally get back to the Quinjet, you both sit down hard, exhausted and overwhelmed. The artifact is in a containment box now, but there’s no telling how to reverse whatever the hell it did.

“We’ll figure it out,” Natasha says, running a hand through your hair.

You nod, but your mind is still racing. This body swap—being in her skin—it’s like every buried feeling you’ve ever had is now screaming at you. And the worst part is, you’re terrified that you’ll slip. That you’ll say something, or do something, that gives it all away.

Because if there’s one thing you know, it’s that you can’t let Natasha find out how you really feel.

But sitting here, in her body, with her teasing you like it’s all just a game—it’s going to be harder than you ever thought.

The Quinjet touches down at the compound just as the sun dips below the horizon, casting long shadows across the tarmac. You’re gripping the edge of the seat so hard that your knuckles—Natasha’s knuckles—turn white. Beside you, Natasha flexes your hands, examining them with curiosity, like she’s still amused by the whole body swap disaster.

“This is so weird,” you mutter under your breath, adjusting your posture. Every tiny movement feels strange, foreign. The suit that usually fits Natasha like a second skin now molds to you, and the weight of her body, the strength in her muscles, is something you’re still not used to. Every step feels like you’re walking in a too-real dream.

Natasha glances at you with your face and shrugs. “I think I’m handling it pretty well.”

You shoot her a glare but it doesn’t have the same impact when it’s coming from her eyes.

Sam’s waiting at the hangar, leaning against a crate, his arms crossed, but the moment he spots the two of you descending the ramp, he frowns. “Everything go okay? You guys look… off.”

You try to open your mouth to explain, but Natasha beats you to it, stepping forward in your body with her usual swagger. “Define okay,” she says, your voice sounding way too confident.

Sam blinks, glancing between the two of you. “Wait—what?”

“Yeah,” you say, gesturing to yourself. “We, uh, swapped.”

“Swapped,” Sam repeats slowly, like he’s trying to process whether you’re joking.

Natasha gives him a grin. Your grin. “Body swapped.”

Sam’s jaw drops open, and then he bursts out laughing, his voice echoing through the hangar. “No. No way.”

You groan. “It’s not funny!”

“Oh, it’s hilarious,” Sam counters, wiping a tear from his eye. “I mean, look at you two.”

“Can we just get inside?” you snap, not really in the mood for jokes—not when you’re wearing Natasha’s body like some awkward cosplay.

“Yeah, yeah.” Sam waves you through, still chuckling. “This is gonna be good.”

The three of you head into the compound, and you can already feel the tension building in your chest—or, well, Natasha’s chest—as you try to figure out how the hell you’re going to explain this to the rest of the team.

Of course, you don’t have to wait long.

The moment you step into the common area, Tony Stark is there, lounging on the couch with a drink in hand. Bruce is at the table, reading through something on his tablet, but both of them glance up as you and Natasha enter.

“Hey, Red, Y/N,” Tony greets, lifting his glass. “You’re back early. What’d you do, set off a self-destruct sequence to save time?”

You sigh, rubbing your temples, which feels even weirder when it’s not your head. “Tony—”

Natasha cuts in, crossing your arms over her chest. “We had a bit of an incident.”

Tony narrows his eyes, noticing the odd dynamic, the way you’re both standing, the uncomfortable distance between you. “What kind of incident?”

“Body swap,” you blurt out.

Tony stares. “Body swap? Like Freaky Friday body swap?”

You nod grimly.

There’s a beat of silence, and then Tony starts laughing so hard he nearly spills his drink. “This is perfect. Oh my god, I wish I had cameras on that mission.”

Bruce lowers his tablet, blinking in mild confusion but already looking concerned. “Wait, seriously? You two swapped bodies?”

You and Natasha both nod.

Tony, still cackling, leans back further on the couch. “This is like the greatest sitcom episode I never knew I needed. Please tell me you at least tried to do each other’s voices.”

Natasha, still in your body, smirks. “I think I nailed hers. Don’t you think?” she asks, and it’s unsettling hearing your voice laced with her sarcastic edge.

Tony snaps his fingers. “Spot on. Ten out of ten.”

“Can you just help us?” you interject, crossing Natasha’s arms tightly, feeling the tension coil in your muscles. Her muscles. “This isn’t exactly fun for me.”

Tony waves his hand dismissively, though there’s still a grin on his face. “Fine, fine. We’ll fix you. Right, Brucie?”

Bruce sighs, already getting up and walking towards his lab. “I’ll start running some tests. Come on.”

You and Natasha follow him through the compound, Tony trailing behind, still muttering about the comedy gold of this entire situation.

In the lab, Bruce starts scanning you both, asking all kinds of questions about the artifact, while Tony pokes at the readings, throwing out occasional jokes that you’re trying really hard to ignore.

“So, Y/N,” Tony says, tapping on a screen, “how does it feel to be the Black Widow for a day? Got that spy mojo flowing yet? Maybe try one of her signature flips?”

You shoot him a glare. “Not the time, Tony.”

He holds up his hands in mock defense. “Hey, I’m just saying—if I were you, I’d make the most of it. Stretch a little. Test out the flexibility.”

Natasha snorts, still in your body, clearly enjoying this more than she should.

Bruce, thankfully, clears his throat, cutting through the banter. “This isn’t going to be an easy fix,” he says, his brows furrowing as he studies the readings. “Whatever that artifact was, it didn’t just swap your consciousness—it rewrote certain biological signals. I’m going to need time to figure out how to reverse it.”

You feel your stomach sink—or Natasha’s stomach, whatever. “How long are we talking?”

Bruce hesitates. “Could be a day. Could be a week.”

You groan, leaning against the counter. “Great.”

Tony claps his hands together. “Well, in the meantime, you two get to live each other’s lives. This is going to be so entertaining.”

Natasha crosses your arms and smirks. “I think I’ll enjoy this.”

You glare at her. “Glad one of us will.”

After Bruce gives you both a few more instructions, you and Natasha head out of the lab, the weight of the situation sinking in. It hits you harder when you realize you can’t just sit around in her body without taking care of… basic things.

“So,” Natasha says casually, as you both walk towards the living quarters, “I guess we should talk about the elephant in the room.”

You glance at her. “Which one? The fact that I’m stuck in your body or the fact that Tony thinks this is hilarious?”

“No,” she says, stopping in front of her room—your room, for now. “The fact that we’re going to have to deal with… hygiene.”

Your brain short-circuits for a second. “Hygiene?”

She gives you a pointed look. “We’re going to have to shower at some point.”

The realization hits you like a ton of bricks. Showering. In her body.

You can already feel the heat rising to your face, and you scramble to find words. “I—I can just, you know… avoid looking.”

Natasha chuckles, leaning against the doorframe. “Good luck with that.”

You glare at her, trying to seem unbothered, but your heart is racing. “You’re way too chill about this.”

She shrugs, still wearing your body with an ease that’s almost infuriating. “I’ve been through worse.”

You groan, running your hand through her red hair. “This is going to be a nightmare.”

“Or an adventure,” she says, smirking.

You try to ignore the way that makes your stomach flutter.

Hours pass, and after a painfully awkward attempt at dinner—where Tony made more jokes about the swap and Sam nearly choked laughing—you find yourself back in Natasha’s room. It’s neat, sparse, just like you expected. Her gear is lined up meticulously, and there’s a faint trace of her perfume in the air.

You’re standing in front of her mirror, still wearing her tactical suit, trying to muster the courage to actually take it off. You need to wash up. You can’t exactly avoid it forever. But the idea of seeing… everything… it’s almost too much.

“This is fine,” you mutter to yourself, tugging at the zipper.

The suit peels away, and you force yourself to keep your eyes on the wall, on the ceiling—anywhere but the mirror. But your curiosity gets the better of you, and you glance.

It’s surreal. You’ve seen Natasha in her suit a million times, in training, on missions, but seeing her body like this—knowing it’s you in there—it makes something twist painfully in your chest. You try to ignore the intrusive thoughts, the ones that creep in despite your best efforts.

Don’t look. Don’t think about it.

But you can’t help it.

You take the quickest shower of your life, eyes squeezed shut most of the time, and when you’re finally done, you throw on a set of Natasha’s pajamas, which are soft and simple but still somehow make you feel like an imposter.

You flop down on her bed, groaning into the pillow. “This is hell.”

A knock sounds at the door.

You sit up quickly. “Yeah?”

Natasha steps in—in your body—wearing one of your old T-shirts and sweatpants, looking way too comfortable. She grins. “So. How was the shower?”

You scowl. “Don’t.”

She raises her hands. “Hey, just checking.”

“You’re enjoying this way too much.”

She shrugs, then flops onto the bed next to you, stretching out her arms—your arms—and sighs. “It could be worse.”

You turn your head to look at her, feeling the heaviness in your chest again. “Yeah? How?”

She grins. “We could’ve swapped with Tony.”

You both burst out laughing, the tension breaking, at least for a moment. But as the laughter dies down, you realize that being stuck like this, stuck with her, is going to be harder than you thought. Because every second in her body, every teasing joke, every lingering glance—it’s pushing you closer to a line you’ve been avoiding for years.

And you’re not sure how much longer you can keep pretending.

You lie there on Natasha’s bed, still in her body, staring up at the ceiling while Natasha lounges beside you in your body like it’s the most natural thing in the world. She’s got your legs crossed at the ankles, one arm draped over her stomach, and she looks almost too comfortable. You wonder if it’s that easy for her, adapting to being someone else.

But it’s not.

What you don’t realize is that behind her smirks and sarcastic comments, she’s struggling just as much as you are—maybe even more.

She glances over at you, watching herself—well, you—stare at the ceiling, your jaw tight, eyes heavy with everything you’re trying not to say. From where she’s lying, seeing her own face from the outside, it’s strange. Surreal. But what throws her off the most isn’t the swap—it’s you.

You’ve always been the reason she’s held back.

Natasha has spent years convincing herself that it’s fine—more than fine—that the friendship you two share is enough. She never let it go further, never allowed herself to say anything, because she was sure you didn’t feel the same. Every time you talked about past relationships—guys—it reinforced the wall she built around her feelings. You’d talk about dates that didn’t work out, about exes who weren’t worth the time, and even when you were clearly frustrated with how they treated you, you never mentioned anything about girls. Never once hinted.

So she buried it.

She became your closest friend, your mission partner, the person you trusted when things went to hell. She told herself that was enough. That it had to be.

But being in your body now? It’s like standing too close to a window she was never supposed to look through. She feels everything—your heartbeat, the way your chest rises and falls with every breath, the way your hands fidget when you’re anxious. It’s intimate in a way she hadn’t prepared for.

And it’s killing her.

You shift beside her, still oblivious to what’s running through her head, and groan into the pillow. “This is the worst.”

Natasha props herself up on her elbow—your elbow—and studies you. “It’s not that bad,” she teases, though her chest feels tight.

You turn your head to look at her, your—her—red hair spilling across the pillow. “You’re handling this way too well. I’m over here having an identity crisis, and you’re… what? Just chilling?”

She forces a smirk. “I’m adaptable.”

But inside, she’s far from chill.

Being in your body, it’s different from anything she’s experienced. She thought it’d be awkward, and yeah, it is, but there’s more to it. She can feel your strength in the way your muscles shift under the surface, the subtle scars from past missions that she traces absentmindedly while sitting in front of the mirror. She knows every inch of you now—every part of you that she never thought she’d be allowed to see.

And it terrifies her.

She didn’t expect this—didn’t expect that being you, even temporarily, would make her feelings harder to ignore.

Earlier, after you both left Bruce and Tony’s lab, she’d gone straight to your room. It felt weird, standing there in the doorway, in your skin, staring at your bed, your shelves, the mess of clothes in the corner. It was so you. She’d hesitated before going in, feeling like she was intruding on something personal.

But curiosity got the better of her.

She walked around the room, running her—your—fingers over your books, photos, little trinkets you’d collected. Things she recognized, things she didn’t. She sat on your bed for a moment, bouncing lightly on the mattress, wondering if you ever thought about her here, in this space, when no one was around.

The thought made her stomach twist.

And then came the harder part—the shower.

It wasn’t until she stood in front of your bathroom mirror, the water running in the background, that she realized how complicated this was. She pulled your shirt over your head, carefully, like if she rushed it would be wrong. She avoided looking too closely at first, focusing on the tiles behind her, but her eyes eventually drifted to her reflection—your reflection.

It was strange, but also… beautiful.

She knew you were gorgeous—she wasn’t blind—but seeing you this way, with nothing to hide behind, made her heart race. It wasn’t about attraction in a superficial way. It was deeper than that. It was seeing the person she cared about, vulnerable, open, even if you didn’t know it.

She felt like she was breaking some unspoken rule.

The shower itself was quick. She kept her eyes closed most of the time, focusing on the mechanics, but even that was a challenge. Feeling your body move, the way your hands—her hands—ran through your hair, it was too much. Every second in there felt like she was toeing a dangerous line.

And now, lying next to you on her bed, still in your body, it’s all she can think about.

You sigh beside her, breaking the silence. “Do you think Bruce will actually fix this?”

She shrugs. “Eventually.”

You roll onto your side to face her, propping yourself up on one elbow. It’s a surreal sight—her own face looking at her like that, soft and tired. “This is so weird,” you say. “Like… I’m talking to myself, but I’m not.”

She smiles, but there’s a tightness to it that you don’t notice.

“You’re really good at this,” you add. “The whole… hiding how weirded out you are.”

She hesitates, then says, “I’m used to pretending.”

The words come out softer than she intended, and for a second, something shifts in your expression, like you’re about to ask her what she means. But then you stop yourself, and the moment passes.

Another beat of silence stretches between you, heavy and thick.

You break it with a nervous laugh. “God, I can’t believe we’re in this mess.”

Natasha chuckles, though her mind is racing. She wants to say something—anything—to bridge the gap that’s been growing between what she feels and what she shows. But she can’t. Not when she’s convinced that if she does, she’ll lose you.

So she stays quiet, even though every part of her is screaming.

But then you say something that catches her off guard.

“You know,” you start, your voice hesitant, “when we first swapped, I was… kinda panicking. I thought you’d be pissed. I didn’t think you’d take it so well.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “Why would I be pissed?”

You shrug, looking at the bedspread. “I don’t know. I guess I just thought… I don’t know. That you’d hate being stuck in my body.”

There’s something vulnerable in your voice that tugs at her chest.

She sits up slightly, looking at you more seriously. “Why would I hate it?”

You hesitate, chewing on your bottom lip. “Because… I’m not you. I’m not the Black Widow. I don’t have your skills, your… confidence.”

Her heart aches. She never realized you felt that way.

“Y/N,” she says gently, “you’re one of the strongest people I know.”

You scoff. “Yeah, sure.”

“I’m serious.” She shifts so she’s fully facing you, her legs crossed beneath her. “You think I don’t notice how much you do? How hard you train, how much you care about everyone on this team?”

You look at her—at yourself—with wide eyes, surprised by the intensity in her voice.

“I’m not in your body right now just wearing it like a suit,” she continues. “I feel it. I feel your strength. Your resilience. It’s all there.”

For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your breathing, the tension between you almost palpable.

Then you smile, shy but genuine. “Thanks, Nat.”

She swallows hard, her throat tight. “Anytime.”

You lie back down, staring up at the ceiling again, but Natasha remains sitting, watching you. She wants to say it—the thing that’s been burning in her chest for years. But she doesn’t. Not yet.

Instead, she whispers, almost too softly for you to hear, “You have no idea.”

And maybe that’s the problem.

Because while you lie there, in her body, wondering if this swap is going to break you, Natasha sits in yours, wondering if it’s the only chance she’ll ever get to be this close to you.

The next few days in each other’s bodies are, unsurprisingly, absolute chaos. The compound, usually buzzing with energy and the hum of advanced technology, now feels like a stage for the most awkward reality show ever made, starring you and Natasha as the unwilling leads.

Tony, of course, is having the time of his life.

“Alright, Y/N—” he grins one morning, leaning against the kitchen counter with a coffee in hand, “—or should I say, Natasha? How’s the super-spy life treating you? Mastered the seductive stare yet?”

You narrow Natasha’s green eyes at him, but the effect is ruined when you accidentally bump the edge of the counter with her hip. Natasha’s body is a powerhouse—every movement feels amplified, and you’re still adjusting to the strength in her limbs.

Tony smirks. “Careful, Widow. You’ll dent my kitchen before you dent my heart.”

“Tony,” you say through gritted teeth, crossing Natasha’s arms over her chest. “This is already hard enough without your commentary.”

“Hard enough?” He raises an eyebrow. “Was that an innuendo? Damn, Y/N, didn’t know you had it in you.”

You groan and glance at Natasha—who’s leaning casually against the fridge in your body, sipping coffee like none of this bothers her. She catches your look and raises your eyebrow in amusement.

“Tell him to shut up,” you mutter.

Natasha takes another sip of coffee, licking your lips—her lips?—before responding. “Why? He’s right. You’re terrible at hiding your thoughts. I can practically feel the awkwardness radiating off you.”

Tony cackles. “Oh, this is golden.”

Bruce walks into the kitchen, yawning and rubbing his eyes. He freezes when he sees the three of you—Tony grinning like a maniac, Natasha lounging in your body, and you trying not to break the counter with Natasha’s super strength.

“Are we still like this?” he sighs, pouring himself coffee.

“Yup,” you and Natasha answer in unison.

“I’m working on it,” Bruce mumbles, taking his mug and retreating to the lab before Tony can rope him into more banter.

But of course, Tony isn’t done.

He spends most of the day following you and Natasha around, making jokes and taking mental notes for what he calls his “future blockbuster screenplay” about two spies who swap bodies and fall in love.

“You know,” he says at lunch, spinning a fork between his fingers, “this situation would make a killer rom-com. Two partners, forced into each other’s bodies, learning deep secrets—maybe even… forbidden feelings?”

You almost choke on your food. Natasha, meanwhile, chews calmly, though you notice the slight twitch at the corner of your mouth—her tell when something gets to her.

“I’m serious,” Tony continues, pointing between you two. “You know you’re gonna come out of this with some kind of emotional breakthrough. It’s, like, body-swap 101.”

“Tony,” Natasha says dryly—your voice coming out smooth and unimpressed, “you’ve been watching too many movies.”

“And yet, I’m still right,” he replies, grinning.

You glare at him. “Just let Bruce fix this already.”

But Bruce is struggling. Despite his genius, the body swap isn’t something easily reversed. Every time he calls you into the lab for scans or bloodwork, he looks more stressed, muttering about neurological pathways and “molecular consciousness displacement” like the world’s worst bedtime story.

“We’re talking about reprogramming the body’s natural biological signals,” he explains one afternoon, running a scanner over Natasha’s body—you in Natasha’s body—again. “It’s not just swapping your consciousness. Your physical forms are literally rejecting each other.”

“Cool,” Tony says, lounging on a lab stool, “so we’re one step away from Y/N growing red hair and Nat turning into a Starbucks-loving civilian?”

Bruce gives him a withering look.

You shift uncomfortably on the exam table. “How long, Bruce? Seriously.”

He sighs. “I don’t know. Maybe a few more days? Maybe a week? I don’t want to rush this and make it worse.”

The idea of being stuck in Natasha’s body that long sends your thoughts spiraling. Not because you hate it—but because you’re terrified of slipping up. Of showing too much. You already catch yourself staring at Natasha—your own body—when she’s not looking. She wears your skin like it’s nothing, moving through the compound with her usual confidence. And it drives you insane.

But the worst part? She seems completely unaffected. Like this is just another mission to get through.

Except… it’s not.

What you don’t see is how hard Natasha’s working to hide her own cracks.

Being in your body isn’t as simple as she makes it look. The first few days, she plays it cool—leaning into the teasing, pretending she’s fine—but inside, it’s chaos. She feels everything—your racing heartbeat when she stands too close, the way your stomach flips when Tony makes an offhand comment about the two of you being too comfortable.

The worst part is your scent.

She didn’t expect it to affect her, but it does. Being in your body means being surrounded by your warmth, your softness, the little details she’s tried to ignore for years. When she lies in your bed at night, staring at the ceiling, she wonders if this is what it would feel like—if things were different.

If you wanted her.

But she doesn’t let it show.

Instead, she focuses on small things—testing your strength at the gym, running drills with Sam, even sneaking in sparring sessions with Clint. It’s weird using your body in combat—your movements are less refined than hers, but there’s a power in you she’s always noticed.

“You hit harder than you think,” Clint comments one afternoon after she knocks him to the mat in the gym.

“Thanks,” she says, wiping sweat from your brow, though it feels strange to take credit for your strength.

“You’re adjusting fast.”

She shrugs, grabbing a towel. “I adapt.”

Clint watches her for a beat, then smirks. “You know, Y/N’s been asking about extra combat training for weeks now. Maybe when this is all over, you should be the one to help her out.”

The idea makes something twist in her chest.

“Yeah,” she mutters, “maybe.”

But adapting gets harder at night.

The quiet moments, when she’s alone in your room, lying in your bed, wearing your oversized T-shirts—those are the ones that crack her armor. She’ll catch herself staring at the ceiling, running your hands over your arms, wondering how you’d react if you knew. If you felt what she was feeling now.

And there are moments—small ones—when she thinks maybe you do know.

Like when you catch her reflection in a window, watching you when you think no one’s looking. Or when your gaze lingers too long on her—your own body—during training.

It builds, slowly, over the days.

The tension. The unspoken.

And Tony doesn’t help.

One evening, after another failed attempt at reversing the swap, he corners you both in the kitchen with two glasses of wine.

“Alright,” he says, sliding the glasses across the counter. “We’re officially past the ‘this is hilarious’ stage. Now we’re in the ‘let’s get deep and vulnerable’ stage.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Tony—”

“Nope,” he cuts you off, raising a finger. “You’ve both been weirdly quiet about this, and I know—” he points between you—“that there’s more going on than just a body swap.”

Natasha, in your body, leans against the counter and sips her wine. “Like what?”

He grins. “Like, say, hidden feelings? Deep-seated emotional repression? Classic spy stuff.”

You almost spit out your drink. “Tony!”

He laughs. “I’m serious! You two have been dancing around each other for years. Now you’re literally in each other’s skin, and you’re telling me there’s nothing happening? Come on.”

You glare at him. “You’re reading into this way too much.”

But Natasha stays quiet.

Tony notices and smirks. “Or maybe I’m right.”

She finally speaks, her voice low. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But even you can hear the edge in her tone.

Tony backs off—barely—but his words linger.

That night, after everyone’s gone to bed, you find yourself wandering to the balcony, staring out at the stars. It’s quiet, peaceful, and for once, your thoughts settle.

Until you hear footsteps behind you.

Natasha.

In your body, wearing one of your hoodies, her hands stuffed into the pockets. She stands next to you, leaning on the railing.

“Can’t sleep?” she asks.

You shake your head. “Not really.”

The silence stretches, thick with unspoken words.

“Y/N,” she starts, her voice softer than usual, “do you ever wonder… if things could be different?”

You glance at her, surprised. “Different how?”

She hesitates, then sighs. “If we weren’t always on missions. If we didn’t have to… hide things.”

The question makes your heart race. Because yes. You’ve wondered. More times than you can count.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I do.”

The words hang between you, fragile and heavy.

And for the first time since the swap, you see it—the crack in her armor. The way she looks at you, like she’s been holding something back for years.

“Y/N,” she says again, her voice barely audible, “if we never get this fixed… I need you to know—”

But before she can finish, there’s a loud bang from the lab, followed by Bruce shouting, “I think I found something!”

You both jump, the tension snapping instantly.

But even as you rush toward the lab, Natasha’s unfinished words echo in your mind.

I need you to know…

And suddenly, the thought of going back to normal doesn’t feel so simple anymore.

The lab is a mess of wires, glowing monitors, and a haze of smoke from whatever Bruce just accidentally exploded. You and Natasha rush inside—her still in your body, you in hers—hearts pounding, the echo of her almost-confession still lingering between you.

Tony’s leaning against the wall, grinning like the proud inventor he is. Bruce, flustered but hopeful, gestures wildly at a console that’s beeping erratically.

“I did it,” Bruce says breathlessly. “I think I actually did it.”

“You’re sure?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, even as your hands—Natasha’s hands—tremble slightly.

Bruce adjusts his glasses. “Ninety-five percent sure. That’s pretty good, right?”

Tony claps him on the back. “Close enough. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? You swap with a dog? Or each other’s subconscious fears? That would be fun.”

You glare at him, but Natasha—still in your body—smirks. “If we end up in Tony’s body, I’m quitting.”

Tony gasps, clutching his chest. “You wound me, Romanoff. Truly.”

But you barely register the banter. Your mind is spinning with the weight of what Natasha almost said out on the balcony. The thought that she was going to confess something—and that you might never have known if Bruce hadn’t found a solution—sits heavy in your chest.

“Alright,” Bruce says, flipping a few switches. “This should reverse the swap. You’ll stand here—” he points to two glowing platforms, side by side, “—and when I activate the sequence, it’ll realign your consciousness with your original body.”

You glance at Natasha. She’s watching you, expression unreadable in your face, which makes it even harder to guess what she’s thinking.

You swallow hard. “Ready?”

She holds your gaze for a beat longer than necessary, then nods. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

You step onto the platforms, heart racing. There’s a low hum as the machine powers up, energy swirling around you both.

Tony’s voice cuts through the noise. “Alright, lovebirds. If you swap brains with a toaster or something, I call dibs on the patent.”

You roll your—Natasha’s—eyes, but then everything blurs.

There’s a blinding flash, like lightning in your veins, and suddenly, everything feels… right.

You stumble forward, catching yourself with your own hands. Your own hands.

You blink, the world spinning for a second, then look up to see Natasha standing across from you—in her own body—rubbing her temples.

“Nat?” you ask, your voice—your real voice—cracking slightly.

She lifts her head, and when her green eyes meet yours, there’s a beat of silence that stretches and expands, until the buzzing in your ears fades completely.

“Yeah,” she says softly. “I’m me again.”

The sheer relief makes you laugh, breathless and shaky, and Natasha’s lips twitch upward.

“We did it!” Bruce exclaims, but his voice is distant, muffled against the roaring in your head.

Because all you can focus on is Natasha.

Tony is still yammering, probably making jokes about you two now being able to “safely kiss without existential dread,” but his words blur as the lab becomes a peripheral hum.

Natasha steps closer.

The tension is palpable—electric.

She hesitates, then grabs your wrist gently, fingers curling around your skin like she’s grounding herself.

“Y/N,” she starts, her voice low, almost trembling. “We need to talk.”

Your heart skips. “Yeah. Okay.”

Without waiting, she pulls you out of the lab, past Bruce’s triumphant cheers and Tony’s relentless teasing. Neither of you say anything as you navigate through the compound, weaving past empty hallways until you find yourself standing outside your room.

She pauses at your door, biting her lip. “Can we—?”

You nod, opening it.

The room is exactly as you left it, but it feels different now—charged with an energy you can’t ignore.

Natasha walks in first, stopping in the middle of the room, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her usual calm is gone—replaced by something raw, vulnerable.

You close the door behind you, heart pounding. “Natasha, what—”

She cuts you off. “I found your diary.”

The words hit you like a freight train.

Your face heats up instantly. “What?”

She swallows, her hands flexing at her sides. “When I was in your body. In your room. I—I wasn’t trying to snoop, I swear. But I couldn’t sleep, and I was looking around, and I saw it on your nightstand.”

You cover your face with your hands. “Oh my God.”

“Y/N,” she says quickly, stepping closer, “I didn’t mean to read it. But when I opened it… I saw what you wrote. About me.”

Your heart is now definitely trying to claw its way out of your chest.

“I—” You struggle to form words. “Natasha, I—”

She takes your hands, pulling them away from your face so you’re forced to meet her eyes. They’re soft, filled with something you can’t quite name—hope, fear, longing.

“You like me,” she says, her voice almost a whisper.

You nod, defeated. “Yeah. I do.”

The admission hangs heavy in the air, but instead of tension, there’s relief.

“I didn’t want to say anything,” you rush on, “because I thought—you know—I thought you only liked guys. And I didn’t want to ruin what we had.”

Natasha lets out a shaky breath, then laughs—soft, incredulous. “You’re an idiot.”

You blink. “What?”

She smiles now, full and real. “I like you, too. I have for a long time.”

You stare at her, stunned. “You do?”

She nods, her hand brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I didn’t say anything because I thought you weren’t into girls. You’ve only ever talked about guys, and I didn’t want to cross a line.”

Your head is spinning. “So all this time…?”

“All this time,” she confirms.

There’s a beat of silence, then you both laugh—nervous, breathless, but filled with something else now.

Natasha’s eyes darken slightly as she steps even closer, her hand now cupping your cheek. “I didn’t want to tell you while I was still in your body,” she admits. “It didn’t feel right. I wanted this—” she leans in, her breath ghosting over your lips, “—to happen with us. The real us.”

Your breath catches. “So… what happens now?”

Her lips curl into a smirk. “I think this.”

And then she kisses you.

It’s soft at first—tentative, as if both of you are testing the waters. But then you melt into it, your hands tangling in her hair, her fingers digging into your waist, pulling you closer. The kiss deepens, and everything else—the awkwardness, the fear, the weeks of body-swapped chaos—fades away.

When you finally pull apart, breathless and grinning like idiots, Natasha leans her forehead against yours.

“That was worth waiting for,” she murmurs.

You laugh, your heart so full it hurts. “Definitely.”

But then there’s a loud knock at your door, followed by Tony’s unmistakable voice.

“Hey! I’m gonna assume the awkward confessions are done and the kissing has commenced?”

You and Natasha groan in unison, but neither of you can stop smiling.

Because for once, Tony’s actually right.

okay so, writing this was actually more confusing than I thought lol

[dollishmehrayan]

# CHRISTMAS TREE DECORATING AND CHAOS ── .✦ ( decorating trees with batboys ‘separated’! ⋆౨ৎ )

a/n: I literally feel so happy genuinely now, I guess my mental health is getting better && anyways i have 64 requests to get to… i truly need to speed run through these but some I can’t do sadly 😭 so sorryy ᥫ᭡, tags: (batboys x fem!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

The king of enthusiasm: As soon as you suggest decorating the tree together, he’s all in.

“We’re going for the most extra tree Gotham has ever seen!” He wants it tall enough to touch the ceiling and glittery enough to blind someone.

He’s the guy who insists on climbing to the very top to put on the star, even though he wobbles dangerously on the ladder.

Sings Christmas songs (terribly off-key he’s also like tone deaf and beat deaf it’s a curse to hear him sing something at karaoke) while you decorate, complete with dramatic twirls and spins around the tree.

Accidentally tangles himself in the lights at least twice. “I’m fine, I’m fine! I was just… testing the durability!”

Insists on taking a million photos of you with the finished tree, calling you his “Christmas angel.”

When it’s all done, he dims the lights, wraps an arm around you, and whispers, “This might be my favorite Christmas ever.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

He pretends to be indifferent. “Decorating a tree? Sounds boring.” But the second you start, he’s invested.

He’s surprisingly good at untangling lights and getting them perfectly spaced on the tree. “What? I’ve got steady hands.”

Jason leans into more minimalistic decor deep reds, dark greens, and gold accents but he lets you take the lead. “You want glittery ornaments? Fine. But I draw the line at tinsel.” (he’s like those sad beige moms but with like dark traditional Christmas colors…)

Complains about how prickly the tree is the entire time but still helps you string popcorn garlands because he knows it makes you happy.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

He’s excited about decorating but is terrible at it. Tim tries, but he’s way better at figuring out the tech side of things (like synchronized tree lights) than actually hanging ornaments.

Spends 20 minutes untangling lights and another 20 trying to figure out why one strand isn’t working. “It’s science! There’s a method to this madness.”

He’s the type to sneak a caffeine break halfway through while you keep decorating. “What? I need fuel to focus!”

Insists on hanging some nerdy ornaments—little Batman logos, Star Wars-themed ones, or even a tiny Robin figurine.

When you get frustrated with his lack of artistic flair, he pulls you close and says, “Hey, at least I’m good company, right?”

After it’s all done, he insists on dimming the lights and turning on the synchronized tree music. “Look at that. A masterpiece.”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Initially acts like it’s beneath him. “Why would I waste time decorating a tree?” But he ends up being surprisingly good at it.

Damian has an eye for symmetry, so every ornament has to be perfectly spaced. “No, that one is too close to the red one. Move it.”

If you mention that decorating the tree is a nostalgic tradition for you, he softens immediately. “Fine. But this had better be worth it.”

He refuses to wear a Christmas sweater, but you catch him smiling when you put on a ridiculous reindeer headband.

Titus gets involved, carrying around ornaments and wagging his tail, which Damian pretends to be annoyed by but secretly loves.

When the tree is finished, he stands back with his arms crossed, pretending not to care. But when you beam at him, he quietly says, “It looks… nice. I suppose this wasn’t a complete waste of time.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

(He buys like 40 ft Christmas trees for the main ball in the manor and like that’s almost impossible to decorate without professionals)

The ultimate perfectionist. He has a very clear vision for the tree, but he tries to let you take the lead. “It’s your tradition. I’ll follow your lead… mostly.”

Insists on using the tallest tree that will fit in Wayne Manor and hires a team to bring it in.

He’s all about elegant, classic decorations white lights, glass ornaments, and a tasteful tree topper. But if you want colorful lights or quirky ornaments, he’ll indulge you.

Offers to lift you up to reach the highest branches instead of letting you use a ladder. “I don’t need you breaking your neck before the gala.”

Alfred brings hot cocoa and cookies halfway through, smiling at how relaxed Bruce looks around you.

When the tree is done, he turns to you and says, “It’s perfect. Just like this moment.” Then he pulls you into a rare, heartfelt kiss under the twinkling lights.

[ruewrote]

𝑐𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑.

PAIRING: evan buckley x fem!reader WARNINGS: no use of y/n GENRE: fluff, meet cute SONG INSPIRATION: tadow by masego WORD COUNT: 938

navigation | ask | evan buckley masterlist

you were new to the 118.

from the moment you stepped into the station, they had welcomed you with open arms. chimney took you under his wing, showing you the ropes with his humour that helped keep the nerves at bay.

hen had this way of grounding you, offering advice that made you feel like you weren’t just learning the job, but learning to trust yourself.

sure, you’d had a couple of minor slip-ups during your first rescues. nothing too dangerous, but enough to sting your pride. you’d quickly learned from your mistakes, and the team had noticed. they always made it clear you weren’t alone, encouraging you as you found your footing.

as your first month passed, you began to feel like you were truly part of the family. but there was one name that kept coming up, like a shadow you couldn’t quite pin down, evan buckley.

whether it was on the ride back to the station or during meals around the table, his name was always on someone’s lips.

“remember when buck–” “oh my god, and then buck said–” “i still can’t believe buck actually–”

from the stories, he sounded like their long lost annoying younger brother, ruthlessly teased but fiercely loved. he was the kind of person who could drive them up the wall one minute and have them laughing until they cried the next.

with each story, you found yourself forming a mental image of him. this larger-than-life, chaotic force of nature who somehow managed to be their glue. without even meeting him, you felt like you already knew him.

and then, one day, you did.

you were cleaning and restocking one of the ambulances, focused on the methodical rhythm of your work. the sound of cheers outside pulled your attention, distant at first but growing louder, accompanied by bursts of laughter.

curiosity got the better of you. you closed the ambulance doors with a firm slam and started toward the commotion, your steps quickening with each cheer.

as you rounded the corner, you stopped in your tracks. the entire team had gathered in a loose circle, their voices raised in excitement, their faces lit up with the kind of joy reserved for reunions.

in the middle of it all stood a mountain of a man.

chim was the first to spot you lingering at the back of the group. “hey!” he called out, his grin widening as he reached for you, tugging you forward. “c’mon, don’t be shy! you’ve got to meet him!”

you stumbled slightly as you were pulled to the front, your breath hitching the moment your eyes landed on him.

he was everything the stories hadn’t prepared you for.

tall and broad shouldered, his uniform stretched taut over muscles that seemed almost unfairly large. his hair was slightly tousled, the golden strands catching the sunlight, but it was his smile that truly knocked the air out of your lungs. warm and open, it softened his chiselled features and sent a rush of heat straight up your neck.

then his eyes met yours.

blue. so blue they seemed to pull you in, almost as if the world had narrowed to just the two of you in that moment.

chim’s voice broke through your daze. “and this,” he said with a teasing grin, gesturing toward you, “is your new replacement!”

you rolled your eyes playfully, trying to ignore the way your heart raced as buck’s gaze lingered on you.

“replacement, huh?” buck chuckled, “i’ve heard i left them in good hands.”

he extended a hand toward you, and for a split second, you just stared at it, your brain short circuiting. then, as if on autopilot, you took it.

the moment his hand closed around yours, you felt it. a warmth spread through you, starting at your palm and radiating outward. his hand was large and strong, but his grip was gentle, as though he didn’t wanna hurt you.

“yeah…” you managed, your voice softer than you intended. “you could say that.”

You give him your name, his lips curve into a gentle smile. He nods, his eyes never leaving yours. "pretty."

your hand stayed in his for a beat too long, neither of you seeming eager to let go. his thumb brushed against your skin, an unconscious movement that sent shivers down your spine.

the world around you blurred. all you could see was him. the way his uniform hugged his frame, the way the corners of his mouth quirked up as he smiled at you, the way his eyes softened.

then, as if realising himself, buck gave your hand one final squeeze before letting go, his own hesitation mirrored in the slight reluctance of your fingers.

the moment broke before you could process what had just happened, someone called his name from across the station, and he was ushered away, leaving with the crowd and disappearing through one of the doors. his laughter echoed faintly as he went, but not before his eyes flicked back to you, lingering for a moment longer than they should have.

you turned quickly, your face burning. you took a step back and mouthed silently to yourself, “oh. my. god.”

“catch your breath yet?” bobby’s voice startled you, low and amused.

your head snapped toward him, but the knowing look in his eyes said it all. he’d seen the whole thing.

you tried to play it cool, clearing your throat and turning back to the ambulance as if you had work to do. but your heart was still racing, your hand tingling from where his touch had lingered.

little did you know, buck was feeling the same thing, standing in the middle of his family with his thoughts entirely consumed by you.

comments and reblogs are appreciated ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

© ruewrote 2024.

[emmyrosee]

 Hiiii, I have a request. Imagine a highschool AU where reader has a massive crush on Sukuna but she thinks he has a thing with Uraume, but he actually likes her. Ok ok, so hear me out. Reader is childhood friends with Yuuji and Sukuna and she notices how Sukuna and Uraume have been hanging out a lot. So she asks Yuuji if Sukuna is going to prom and he says yes, and that he is probably going with Uraume. So reader is sad and doesn't want to go to prom anymore even after already buy her dress. Buttt, the day before prom, Sukuna and Reader end up talking and she mentions how he and Uraume are going together and he is confused.  Then they both confess and end up going together. Pleaseeeeee make this as angsty as possible, I love me some good angst😫

THIS IS SO CUTEEEE-

Bro this is so long yaLL GET A SNACK- I never had a senior prom this is my venting PFFFFF-

I do want to make a disclaimer! To make this fic work I had to go and use an American based school system, where traditionally seniors are 18, can drive, and eat in cafeterias. For those about to comment my inaccuracies, thank you!

—-

Sukuna has been a little more than preoccupied lately.

He, who once would spend every afternoon driving you and yuuji home, who would blast your favorite music and take you to McDonald’s for a soda, has been more than busy with someone new.

You don’t know where she came from, hell you’ve known the two of them for years, yet this is the first you’ve ever really heard of the being known as Uraume.

“They’ve actually been friends for years,” yuuji had told you. “I’m surprised you never really met her- though she’s pretty shy. Only close with sukuna, honestly.”

Yeah. Real close.

Within just a few weeks, Uraume has snagged your place as Sukuna’s number one. No longer does he stand outside your class to carry your books to the next. Your front seat privileges go to her. He plays her favorite songs. He drops you off at home before taking her to god knows where to do god knows what. And yuuji is blind to this change, merely glad his best friend is sitting in the back seat with him, all the while it tears you up on the inside.

And it isn’t until you catch a beefy hand shift to hold Uraume’s that you realize it’s over. Your heart shatters, your lip wobbles, and you turn your body to face away from the disgusting sight.

“You okay?” Yuuji asks, gently nudging you with the tips of his fingers, and when you look up to peek at Sukuna’s frame once again, you catch his eyes looking at you in the rear view. You sigh and turn your gaze away.

“What’s wrong, brat?” He asks, and you could throw up when Uraume turns in her seat to look at you too.

She looks genuinely concerned, and you could punch her for it.

“Just… take me home, Sukuna,” you murmur.

“But we’re getting pizza!” Yuuji whines. “I don’t want you to miss out!”

You smile and gently pat his leg, “don’t worry about me, yuuji. I’m just getting car sick.”

Car sick enough you don’t car pool with him anymore.

You’re back to taking the bus, curled on your seat to stay out of other people’s way, leaving home about 45 minutes earlier than you would’ve with Sukuna. It makes you skip breakfast and washing your face, barely giving you enough time to get into clean clothes and head off onto the day.

But it’s better than seeing them interact, a crush and potential romance brewing right in your eyesight. You never told him how you were getting to school, either, not in the mood for his attempts to change your mind or force you otherwise.

Until-

“You’ve been taking the fucking bus?”

There’s a loud bark that rings through the halls of school, people moving out of the way for the one and only sukuna to come barreling down it, some looking in worry, others with their eyes rolling in their skull.

You sigh and close your locker, leaning against it, “did yuuji finally tell you?”

“No, and I’m going to beat the shit out of him for not telling me,” he snarls, leaning in close. “Do you know how fucking dangerous the bus can be?”

You roll your eyes, “people take the bus every day, Sukuna.”

“Yeah. Not you. Not anymore. I drive you. You know that.”

“Not anymore,” you grumble. He cocks a brow in challenge and you roll your eyes, “I have no interest in being in a car with you.”

“Who fucking shit in your oatmeal this morning?” He snaps. “You’ve had a punk ass attitude for the past two weeks, what the fuck happened?”

“Maybe im just not into being babied anymore?” You lie. He furrows his brows and licks his lips as the bell rings.

“This isn’t over. We’re not done.”

“I am!” You sing.

You’ve never had a day at school drag like today has.

Classes have never felt longer, teachers have never talked slower, and the clock has never ticked drowsier. It physically causes your head to pound and your stomach to become nauseous, and agony courses though your veins as the lunch bell rings.

It’s only lunch.

You manage to shuffle your way out to the cafeteria to meet your friends, two who cheer happily at your arrival and one who offers you a nod of acknowledgment. You plop down next to Fushiguro and rub your temples.

“What’s wrong?” Yuuji asks, and you flash him a small smile.

“I just don’t feel well.”

“You haven’t felt well in days,” he points out, “I hope you’ll be alright for tomorrow night!”

Tomorrow night.

Prom is tomorrow night.

You scrub your face with your hands, “I’ll feel better once I eat, yuuji. Don’t worry,” you say quietly.

The drumming of Nobara’s nails on the table don’t help the growing migraine in your skull, and you try your best to drown out the noise of so many people and so many thoughts and so many feelings about your argument with sukuna that you feel like you could throw up straight on this table.

Kugisaki grimaces, “I told your brother to be here today to talk about prom,” she says, poking her juice open with a straw. “He’s late.”

“He’s not late,” yuuji says, pointing a finger at a table just a few down. “He’s over there, with Uraume.”

The minute every vowel passes Yuuji’s lips, a shiver trails down your spine, filling your entire being with heaviness and hatred. You don’t dare look over your shoulder, instead you grab a grape from Fushiguro’s lunch to munch on. He nudges the small container closer, and you take another green grape from him.

“Besides,” Yuuji continues, taking a bite of his lunch, “I’m 98% sure Sukuna’s going with her. Something about her friend group and car pooling, I figured we could catch a ride with someone else.”

Your heart stops completely.

The man you’d assumed you were going with, the man you’d been in love with for years, is taking someone else, the day before prom.

“He WHAT!” Kugisaki snaps, and next to you, Fushiguro laces his pinky finger with yours, squeezing softly to keep you grounded. “Oh! The fucking nerve! I knew he was a piece of shit, but THIS?! Oh, Itadori, why couldn’t you have your license!”

“Hey! Why don’t you!”

“Kugisaki,” Fushiguro says softly. “Him being a scumbag is nothing new. But,” you feel blue eyes focus on the side of your head. “Let’s be a little more gentle about this, okay?”

From behind you, there’s a set of laughter that eases its way over the cafeteria, and you wish it was literally anyone else’s, anyone’s other than Uraume’s, and you hate how light and airy it sounds.

How pretty.

“I know for a fact Sukuna’s not that funny,” Kugisaki grumbles, but all you do is pick at your food and silently pretend to agree with your friend.

Sukuna is funny. Sukuna is so funny it hurts, it brings tears to your eyes and your sides and stomach to hurt, and even though you share him everyday, it hurts now to share him with her.

“Man, she’s laughing real hard,” Yuuji says, taking a sip of his water, his head turned to watch his brother interact with his friend. “Wonder what he said.”

“Yuuji,” Megumi warns.

Yuuji chuckles to himself, “it’s almost like they’re feeding off of each other, it’s kinda sweet.”

“Yuuji.”

“-and I mean, Sukuna’s usually not so open and friendly, let alone cracking jokes. It’s cute-“

“ITADORI!”

Megumi snaps hard enough at his friend to make him shut up, and when yuuji finally turns back to face you, your bottom lip wobbles and you play more with your food. Tears pour down your face, as Kugisaki reaches over to rest a hand on yours, sympathy in her gaze. “Yeah,” you sniffle. “It’s cute.” The hand not being cradled by Kugisaki comes up to wipe your tears, and before you know it, your legs stand up and carry you straight to the bathroom, locking yourself in a stall where you’re able to finally let it go. You cradle yourself in comfort, eyes screwed shut as you sob every fiber of your soul out.

Kugisaki calls your name once, twice, then she sighs, “come on. Let’s talk this out, okay?”

“I’m not going to prom,” you confess. “Not if he’s going with her.”

“You don’t know if he is, though,” she argues, leaning against your stall door. “And if he is, and he fumbles the best thing that ever happened to him, he doesn’t deserve your tears.”

There’s another person that enters the bathroom, and you hear Kugisaki scoff. “You’re like, a thousand percent not supposed to be in here.”

“Bite me,” the voice snaps, and it doesn’t take long to decode it as Sukuna’s. Your hand claps over your mouth to silence your tears, not wanting him to hear you. “I thought she was crying, I wanted to check on her.”

“She’s fine. Shoo.”

“Kugisaki-“

“Don’t talk to me like we’re friends,” she snaps, and you close your swollen eyes as she defends your honor. “Because we’re not. Don’t act like you care at all about me or her, or her peace or her business. So fucking beat it, before I snitch you out to the principal, then no one’s fucking happy.”

You hear sukuna exhale in annoyance, “just… text me, okay?” He says, and you know he’s talking to you.

“She’ll think about it,” Kugisaki growls. Once the big footprints are out of earshot, you slowly ease your way out of the stall and straight into Kugisaki’s arms, “I know honey, I know,” she soothes, hugging you tight. “You deserve so much better, babydoll. Fuck him.”

“He led me on for months,” you wail. “And he tossed me to the side like a fucking piece of trash. For her.”

“And that’s why you should go to prom,” she argues, pulling back to look at you, eyes soft in understanding. “You don’t need him to have fun- you’ve got friends who are dying to go with you. And you want to make him real jealous?” She asks, and you quirk your brow in intrigue.

She smirks, “go with Fushiguro.”

You sniffle and shake your head, “I cant do that to Fushiguro. Im not going to use him as a pawn to make Sukuna want me again. It’s not fair.”

Kugisaki nods and clicks her tongue, “why don’t you get a note from the nurse and go home for the day?” She encourages, and you ponder the idea in your head.

Maybe it wouldn’t be such a terrible idea… to go home and process the day, figure out what to do about prom, maybe even return the dress for your money back. You sigh shakily and nod your head before the bathroom door bursts open again, emerging a yuuji whose hands are clasped over his eyes. “Just wanted to bring you your backpack!”

You snort and wipe your nose, “thank you, Yuuji.”

“You’re welcome!” He shifts his fingers to peek at you, lifting the middle one to make eye contact, “so… sorry we didn’t get to talk about prom.”

“It’s okay,” you sigh, ushering them both out of the bathroom. “I’m… I’m probably not going anyways.”

“WHAT!” He whines, his hands coming down to his sides in a saddened pout. “But! It’s senior prom! We have to go!”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I haven’t felt up for it since we made the plan to go. Maybe I’m just not supposed to.” When Fushiguro appears from the men’s bathroom and approaches the group, you flash him a sweet smile, “but I want you guys to still go!”

“Well if you’re not going, I’m not going!” Yuuji proclaims.

Fushiguro shakes his head, “if this is about prom, I won’t go either. We can chill at our houses instead-“

“EVERYONE IS GOING TO PROM!” Kugisaki barks, causing more than a few heads to turn in the hall. Then, she sighs, “we’re all old now. This is it. Our last chance of good memories from this shit fuck of a school. Everyone is going. Period.”

“But-“

“We’ll talk it out later,” you say quickly, noticing the duo of Sukuna and Uraume heading to the vending machines together. “I’m going home. Someone take notes for me.”

“Will do,” Fushiguro calls out for you. You feel three pairs of eyes boring into the back of your skull, but you couldn’t care less.

Not when you’re left to pick up the pieces of your broken heart.

Getting out of school was easy enough. Working up an excuse that you’re dizzy and need to be rushed home. It’s getting home that sucked.

Before, Sukuna was your ride home when you were sick, cutting classes to get you back to your home so you could take care of yourself and get plenty of rest. Now, you stand at a public bus stop, earbuds in your ears, and you wait. You’ve done this route plenty of times by now, courtesy of Sukuna’s front seat being taken by her.

The ride is quiet enough, your head resting against the cool glass of the window as your phone buzzes violently.

sukuna 💪🏻 Where the fuck did you go?

No seriously wtf

This shit with Fushiguro taking notes for you? The fucks up with that?

Why’d you even leave?

You think you can ignore me?

This isn’t over. Once this bell rings?

I’m hunting you down.

You ignore his threats and let the bus carry you home, your exhausted legs finishing the trip up and into the familiar confines of your house. You’ve got at least two hours before sukuna makes good on his word, and you decide to take that time to take care of yourself- something your heart has been too tired to do since Uraume came into your life uninvited.

After a hot shower, some skin care and topped with some pretty perfume, you make your way to the living room, stopping briefly for a snack from the kitchen.

You put on a movie, but your phone won’t stop buzzing. It’s Sukuna, it’s always going to be Sukuna, and you merely turn it on Do Not Disturb.

If ignoring his texts wouldn’t get him pissed, that certainly would.

But you don’t care. Not anymore.

There’s a ferocious knocking on the door that snaps you out of your zone, and it doesn’t take you long to render the intense energy as Sukuna’s. You pause your movie and shrug your blanket off, making your way to the front door.

Your hands tingle and your heart pounds at the idea of confrontation, but you figure you have nothing to lose as you open the door, revealing an annoyed Sukuna, foot tapping impatiently.

“You think you can hide from me?” he snaps, and you roll your eyes and try to close the door. Sukuna merely jams his foot in the frame to stop you. “Stop fucking around with me, and talk to me. And what’s this bullshit of Yuuji telling me you’re not going to prom?”

“I have nothing to say to you,” you say blankly, but all that does is aggravate him more, and he uses a big hand to force the door open more. The act would be attractive to you, had your heart not been torn into pieces by him. “Don’t break my door.”

“Don’t ignore my goddamned texts!” He barks. You scoff and step back inside your house, where he swiftly follows you. “You’re acting like a fucking child.”

“IM ACTING LIKE A CHILD?” You screech, loud enough where even Sukuna’s eyes widen. “Me? After this entire week where you’ve picked your new best friend to cling to, IM THE CHILD?”

“Yes!” He snaps. “What, I can’t have other friends?”

“You seemed pretty content with the one,” you chuckle. “Certainly didn’t need me to keep you entertained.”

“It’s not my fault that Uraume’s been hanging out with me more,” he says, crossing his big arms. “You just can’t handle sharing me once in a while? Are you that insecure?”

This, has you wincing back, his words making you nauseous and tears bite at your waterline, stinging painfully as you finally blink a line down. He takes a deep inhale and cards a massive hand through his hair, “I didn’t mean that-“

“Fuck. You.”

“Look-“

“No, you look, Sukuna,” you growl, hands coming up to shove him hard. “You don’t get to gaslight me into thinking I’m being dramatic, after you’ve completely thrown me to the side and neglected me for the week. You don’t get to make me feel like the bad guy after you led me on for months on end, only to chase after another girl. You don’t get to break my heart, and demand me to piece it back together, only to try and guilt me for protecting my peace! FUCK! YOU!”

“Led you on for what?” He asks, confusion replacing annoyance, but aggregation still in his tone. “The fuck are you spewing?” You reach up to shove him again; this time, he grips your shoulders to make you steady, “are you out of your fucking mind? There is no other girl!”

“Oh, yeah,” you scoff, your voice tight with tears. “You just hold every broad’s hand in front of me. You just rest your hand onto every girl’s thigh, clearly. My bad, Sukuna.”

“I never held her hand, I moved her hand from my thigh, you weren’t fucking paying attention!”

“Yeah? What about not walking me to class anymore? Not carrying my books for me? Not sitting next to me anymore, instead going to be with her?”

His brows furrow, and there’s nothing you’d like more than to smack the expression clean off of his face. “Doll, Uraume is a friend. That’s it!”

“Yeah? Then what does that make us?”

“Everything!” He yells, the plates rattling and doors creaking from the force. The tears in your eyes still as you stare up at him, whimpering and shaking in his grip.

“What…?”

He sighs in exhaustion, “are you so dense you don’t notice just how obsessed with you I am? The minute someone else comes into my life, you’re blind to that?”

“Sukuna-“

“I’ve fought Fushiguro over you,” he continues. “I’ve argued with teachers for being late to walk you to your class. I’ve gotten pulled over speeding to your house to be with you. I’ve fucking been here, wanting you, but I was waiting for you to be ready.”

“Well, you’ve sure had a hell of a time proving it,” you snip, and he grits his teeth to ground himself. “Talking to another girl, taking her to prom-“

“I’m not taking her to prom, I’m taking you!”

“Then why have you been ignoring me!”

Your words are silenced as he grabs you by the chin and pulls you in for a kiss, the broken bits of your soul and heart snapping back together. Your brain stops and your stomach swirls, but your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, keeping him close. He tastes like orange soda and feels comforting like a freshly washed blanket, his band tee getting fisted in your hand as your other one plays with the hair of his buzz cut. He shivers, his arms hug around your waist, panting into your mouth before hesitantly pulling back.

He leans down to your ear, “listen carefully. I’m not taking Uraume. I’m taking you. Uraume is a friend. That’s it. Once I tell her we’re together, she’ll back off, and we’re going to be fine. I’ve been ‘ignoring you’ because I figured you wanted space, but I couldn’t deal with it anymore. Got it?” You sniffle and burrow your face in his chest, letting his big arms wrap around you and keep you safe. He presses another kiss to the crown of your head, and you feel your mind go fuzzy at the moment he cradles you close.

“Missed my annoying brat of a crush. Driving to school was so fucking boring,” he says, and you scoff against him and wipe your nose on his shirt. “Ugh. Ew.”

“You’re supposed to find me pretty no matter what,” you sniffle. “Even if I use you as a tissue.”

“Maybe, just don’t use me as a tissue?” He snickers, and when you loosen and laugh yourself, he gently pulls back to look at you.

“C’mon. Show me your dress. Need to know what color tie I’m getting.”

“You want to match with me?” You whimper.

He smirks, “Kugisaki already hates me. You think she’s going to let us not matching slide?”

“You’re so right.”

[jamminvroomvroom]

something in the orange.

ln x fem!reader

in which lando can’t always have what he wants. and neither can you.

i’m so back! missed u xoxo i kinda hate this with a passion but i had to force myself to write something bc i was getting the writers jitters lmao. pls tell me what you think and what you want next! hugs

inspired by: something in the orange by zach bryan (ouch)

songs to set the mood: call out my name by the weeknd, all of evermore actually, leave the door open by the silk sonic

warnings: 18+!! minors, BEGONE!! smut, angst, wee bits of fluff, language, alcohol mentions, inappropriate workplace relationship (reader is an engineer @ mcl), slight age gap (r is older), mutual pining, mutual denial (kinda), unprotected sex (L bozo)

3.2k words

the first time it happens doesn’t really count.

you’re drunk and lando’s worse. tensions boil over at some after party, neither of you can bare it, and he’s shoving his key card into the slot of his door while he sloppily kisses your neck. you cannot take

any responsibility for your actions that night and disregard it as a write off.

explaining away the morning after, when you fuck him again, sober and begging, is a different story.

oh, well.

it happens again. and again, and again, and again.

different cities set the mood and the danger turns you on. you trade your mclaren administrated work shirt for lingerie, and your inhibitions for good sex.

he’s younger, just a couple of years between you, but he doesn’t show it. he makes you forget it, every single time he rearranges your spread limbs on a mattress. he makes you forget his age, and the fact that careers will be over as soon as another soul finds out what you get up to when the chequered flag falls.

lando makes it easy. a flick of the wrist and a curl of the tongue makes you sob, and he smirks into the crease of your thighs every time. and when it’s over, and you’re both spent under linen sheets, you can’t even regret it. not when he makes you laugh until you cry and keeps you warm as you drift off to sleep on the rare occasions that you let yourself stay.

it can’t continue. it can’t, you tell him and yourself. every morning after is punctuated with promises that this is the end. and every time, you manage without each other until the next race weekend, when he looks at you in that knowing way that makes your thighs clench.

-

lando can’t think straight.

he never can when he slides between your thighs. it feels like home.

you’re somewhere in the middle east, he can’t actually remember where right now, not when he pushes deeper and you clamp down around his cock, so hard that he chokes out a shaky breath.

“how do you feel even better every time?” lando groans, grinding into you nice and slow.

you slur out a moan in response, tipping your head back even further as you do. it gives him the perfect opportunity to burrow into your neck, kiss over your collarbone, rock into you harder.

everything is warm, slick. this whole situation, it’s a well oiled machine now. lando sends a text and you turn up five minutes later. he ushers you into the room and then, clothes leave a trail from the door to the foot of the bed. what was once a place holder, a way to get some after a shitty race, had become something to look forward to, something that made his heart race. the anticipation, the danger of you made him weaker than he ever had been.

at first, he hated the hold you had on him. it didn’t mean that he could end this, though, not when he couldn’t help but stare at you in the garage. not when he was transfixed by the glimpse he’d get of your collarbone under your work blouse, or the stray hairs that fell over your face when you were concentrating on the data screens.

“lando, i need- i need…” you gasp, trailing off as you arch even further into his sweat glistening body.

lando smirks, sliding a hand down your

body, pinching your nipple on the way. he already knows what you need. he finds your clit, teasing over it a couple of times.

you lock eyes, warning him to give you what you want. he just grins, licks his lips and continues faint glides over the bud. it sends shockwaves over your body, and you convulse underneath him. you writhe, and writhe, and whimper and keen as your orgasm washes over you. his eyes snap shut, barrelling into you as the pleasure hits.

then, there’s silence.

he lays on top of you while you both return to planet earth, no sound but pants of breath and a soft hum from you when he finally pulls out. you smile softly when you rise from the bed, swinging your shaky legs over the side to stand.

“you staying?” lando breathes. he’s laying on his front, arms flexed as they cross beneath his head.

“not tonight, lando.” you tilt your head apologetically, voice soft and sweet. he frowns. you ignore it, and search for you underwear.

“come on, stay.” he sounds desperate to his own ears, cringing at the way the words come across, but your filter it out. you’ve become an expert at navigating - and more often than not, ignoring - the emotional strings that he tugs on. the ones that attach to your cold, cold heart.

“can’t. you’re gonna have the team here bright and early. ‘m not risking jon seeing me here when he comes to wake you up.” you explain, jumping into your jeans as you tug them up your legs.

“he won’t care.” lando argues, childlike in his negotiating.

“i care.” you scold. you hear the soft thud of his head hitting the pillows. you know you’ve won this round.

lando’s quiet for a while after that, letting you dress yourself. as you’re searching for the bag that you can’t remember if you brought or not, he springs from the bed, making a beeline for the door. you think he’s being gentlemanly, but quickly realise you’re being foolish. the fucker is blocking your exit.

“lando.” you raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms, unimpressed.

“i know, i know, i’m gonna let you go. i just…” he scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, pondering his next words.

“you just…” you usher him along.

“i’ll let you go if you promise to have dinner with me over the summer.” he smirks.

“are you… have you lost the plot?” your eyes almost bulge out of your head.

he tried this, sometimes, tried to get you to go on a date, or get you to do something alone that didn’t involve engineering or a surface that you could fuck on. you’d naively thought he was past this.

“can we just try?” he gives you a look somewhere between i want you so bad and the infamous lando norris puppy dog eyes. lava heats your cheeks and your belly, and the butterflies come out of hibernation. you couldn’t deny, you wanted to try. but, at what cost?

“text me.” you murmur, gesturing for him to move.

“so, that’s a yes?” lando questions.

“text me, and i’ll think about it.”

he decides that he’s gotten the best possible answer out of you, and finally let’s you make your great escape.

you almost collapse on jelly-like knees the second the door shuts behind you. standing your ground with him was getting too difficult, too tiresome. the boy was hard fucking work, and he always got what he wanted.

you’d often daydreamed about him taking you out, getting dressed up nice to sip wine and eat too expensive food, and eventually getting undressed. you realised, however, that those kinds of thoughts were to be banished, after you got caught up in fantasies during a race and almost had the pit crew put mediums on during a bout of rain.

wanting him was dangerous. it could be career ending, reputation destroying, heartbreaking.

one date wouldn’t hurt, just to satisfy his appetite. he’d probably get bored eventually. you wouldn’t let it get further than one meal, one last night with him, and then it would stop.

one more time. just one.

-

you’re waiting on your sofa for the text that tells you he’s arrived.

your hair is curled, messy. just how he likes it. you’re wearing something short and black. your high heel taps against the floor as you bounce your leg nervously.

he’d texted, just like you’d told him to, and then a date was set. just one dinner, one time only. you were gonna tell him that, too.

it’s a bit of fun, you think. dinner and shag. companionship. it was lonely on the road, and sometimes each other was all you could have. it made sense, you figured, that he had honed in on you. you’d done the same to him.

just when you think he’s late, there’s a knock on your door. you were an expecting an “i’m here” text, not the full package. after all, this date was just a formality, right?

you try not to shake as you make your way to the door. lando looks so good that you almost cave and say, “sure, let’s give this a go, eh?”. he’s wearing a shirt that fits painfully well, clinging nicely to a delectable frame. the buttons he’s left undone provide a gorgeous window to his collarbone and the necklaces that hang from his thick neck.

“you look beautiful.” he compliments, rakes his eyes over your body.

“don’t look so bad yourself.” you try to tease but it comes out flustered. you ignore the way his eyes light up.

“you ready?” he asks, you nod.

your heart flutters when he effortlessly takes your hand in his.

-

the restaurant is in the middle of nowhere, and you’re the only two people dining. maybe it’s because of the ‘closed’ sign that gets placed on the door when you arrive. so, he’s gone all out, you think. you’re shocked at how hard he’s tried to keep this private. maybe this isn’t the formality you think it is, maybe this isn’t his way of feeling better about meaningless sex. maybe it wasn’t as meaningless as you pretended it was.

he had you belly laughing within minutes, laying the charm on thick. wine and conversation flowed effortlessly and you were quickly regretting saying yes to this. you were in danger.

in a moment of silence, you catch his eye from across the table.

“you know, this is a one time thing, right?” you almost whisper. you almost kick yourself, why would you say that now? it doesn’t even phase him.

“that’s what you think.” he grins, devilish and stunning.

“i mean it.” you smirk.

“sure you do, honey.” he says, it sounds a lot like ‘game on’.

-

you stir, eyes slowly fluttering open. orange light washes over you, dancing in the pair of eyes you find staring back at you.

the eyes watching you sleep belong to the same person whose strong arms are wrapped around you, nice and secure.

you croak out a good morning, and he grins at how hoarse you sound. it was all his fault for making you whimper and scream, begging and crying for a release.

the date had gone really well.

“coffee?” lando offers.

“just the one, need to get home.” you bring things back to reality.

two coffees and four orgasms later, you head home.

-

the blurry pictures of you and him leaving the restaurant make you ill.

no one can quite tell it’s you, not yet anyway. twitter is ablaze.

faceless accounts call the blurry woman in the pictures the cruelest of names. you cry for hours, and then you stop for a bit, cry some more. rinse, repeat.

you pull on a jacket, scramble for your car keys. this time, you’ll mean what you say.

-

there’s a knock on the door.

when he opens it, you shuffle inside like you always do, coat hangs on the hook with a scarf to match. silence lingers until you reach the kitchen. the kettle hisses. you didn’t even know that he knew how to use one.

“this has to stop.” you say. emotionless. inside, agony sinks into every emotional cut and scrape. you don’t let him notice.

“i know.” he agrees. he’s seen the pictures, too. “okay.”

the kettle is forgotten, two mugs abandoned; he carries you to bed.

one last time.

-

two fingers loosen you up for him, drawing you steadily over the edge. he doesn’t stop there, no. he slows right down, letting you ride out your high, but only for a second. he speeds up once again, grinding his fingers into you at godspeed, and you feel your eyes dampen with tears.

your entire body glistens with sweat and your release, the overstimulation making your toes curl and your back arch. you wonder if the tears streaming down your face are just a result of the way his fingers are curling so deliciously against your walls, so good that it hurts, or if it’s because you know this will be the last time he gets his hands all over you.

“lando,” you cry, grasping at nothing. he’s got you naked in the middle of his bed, and he’s still fully clothed, kneeling between your spread thighs like a man on a mission.

his motivation is to make you stay, to make you regret the fact that once this is over, you’re choosing not to come back. his need for you, that raging desire that fuels your every encounter, it has only increased tenfold since the night of your date. but lando isn’t stupid, he knows that after those photos were published the brakes were on this… thing. this was his only chance to convince you to keep this going, but he was fighting a losing battle.

“what do you want, honey? you want me?” lando grunts, speeding up even more. you didn’t think that what he was doing was humanly possible, but the stars you saw and the way your body was practically levitating off the bed said otherwise.

“only gonna have me one last time? is that really what you want, baby?” he continues to run his mouth, crooning over you. you call out his name, begging. begging for another release, begging that you could stay here forever. with him.

and then you see white and god, and you convulse until you’re collapsing into the mattress. your vision is blurry from the tears and the haze and the unwavering emotional torment.

you grab at him, languidly pulling him in. it takes all the strength you have left to secure him, your feet shoving his jeans down his hips while your hands rip his t-shirt off. you’re keening, too sensitive and too needy. you’re agonising over his touch, you need him to sink so deeply into you, so that you can feel him when it’s over and you’re far away from what almost feels like home.

his breath shakes and his eyes gloss over when he pushes into you.

“let me stay like this, just for a minute.” he chokes out. you nod rapidly, your eyes squeezing shut. he kisses into the crook of your neck, panting and mumbling sweet, painful words over and over.

your hands run over golden planes of warmth and muscle, memorising every dip and crease of him. he slowly rolls his hips and your belly clenches, veins set alight. one of his hands scoop up up your wrist, and the motion creates a deep grind unlike anything you’ve ever felt. your wrists are pinned above your head and lando hovers over you so that he stays level, continuing that slow grind, hips hitting yours hard and slow.

he draws a low whine from the back of your throat, one that makes his hips stutter and your pussy clamp down on him as a pleasurable result. you can feel fingerprints forming around the tender skin of your wrists and you want him to dig in harder, slip into your veins and become a permanent part of you.

lando’s eyes are greyer than you’ve ever seen them, boring into your own. you don’t think you ever break eye contact, staring deep into his soul as he stretches every possible part of you. he doesn’t want this to end, you can’t pretend that you do, either.

he changes his angle slightly, long strokes replacing the short drags, but he keeps hitting deep. something possesses you to lean in, as much as you can given his hold on you, and you capture his lips in a kiss that takes him aback for a second. he melts into it, though, and then you’re chest to chest. tongues meet, and moans meld, your legs snake around him like vines.

“need you to come for me, honey. one last time, yeah? need you to feel good for me, baby.” lando mumbles into your mouth, wet and hushed. it’s overwhelming, and everything goes blank. all you are aware of is the burst of pleasure, his hold on your limp wrists, and two grey green eyes that are begging you to stay.

-

you get dressed quickly, whisper goodbye, and disappear out the door. something stops you, and you need clarity, for him more than for yourself.

you peek round the door, finding his unwavering gaze. your forehead creases, awkward anguish. the way you’re looking at him, deep and sympathetic, it makes you ache. this may well have to be the last time you look at him this intently. it stings.

“it’s better this way, you know?” you murmur.

lando nods, begrudgingly, yet obediently in defeat.

and then, once more, you’re gone and the latch on the door clicks somewhere far away in his apartment. he sinks into the bed, drowning in bed sheets and agony. his head thuds against the pillow and he stares out the window. the orange sunset makes his eyes burn. there’s something about the colour that makes him nauseous now that you’re gone.

-

a few days later, you’re in a meeting that you can’t focus on. he’s sat opposite you, not that you spare him a glance. it’s too painful.

you’ve been here for hours, your body becoming one with the office chair that you’re sinking deeper and deeper into.

yes, the car needs to be faster. yes, your heart hurts. yes, we need to up the strategy game.

you zone out, for the umpteenth time, losing yourself in the dark orange sky. it’s getting late. you crave sleep in your lonely bed. while you stare at the swirls and hues of warmth, you shiver.

lando, on the other hand, hasn’t heard a word said since he sat down. not when his eyes instantly find bruised wrists on the other side of the table. they match the bruises on his heart, the ones that you’d left behind when you’d grabbed it, stolen it from its solitude cage.

he watches you watch the sunset, and then the meeting is dismissed and everyone rushes home for dinner.

“who was that you took for dinner, then, noz?” one of the mechanics jeers at lando as you’re leaving the boardroom. those damned fucking photos would never let you sleep well again.

you’re a couple of steps ahead of them, ears perked up. you’re nauseous.

“no one you know.” lando laughs uncomfortably, waving it off. he sounds exhausted.

you fight with the revolving door and rush to your car. you scream as soon as the door slams and you’re in the drivers seat. you thrash against the steering wheel, and then you scream again.

when you compose yourself, and pull out of your parking space, you notice lando’s range rover ahead of you. when you get to the end of the drive, he will turn left, towards london, and you will turn right.

the devil on your shoulder murders the angel in cold blood, silencing the only voice of reason you had left.

when you reach the junction, you turn left, too.

-

yikes. anyways lmao

-

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