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mistyorchid · 19 days

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Meet-Cute

Old Man Logan x fem! reader

Summary: Failed talking stages inspire you to meet someone irl. Riding an older man in the backseat of his limo makes you forget about the immature boys who ghosted you on Hinge. Meet-Cute Ch. 2 Warnings: MDNI, 99.9% porn, no use of y/n, age gap, reader is 21+, fingering, riding, size difference, praise kink, pet names (doll, baby, sweet/good girl, sweetheart), unprotected p in v, light slapping, oral (male! receiving), creampie, car sex (nobody's around tho), logan's slutty glasses. wc: 3k

Hinge. The app designed to be deleted. You smiled as you pushed the cart, daydreaming about chucking your phone into the nearest lake. The few matches that you received often ghosted you after a week, afraid of committing to a real date.

So here you were, aimlessly strolling through a grocery store. Desperately begging the universe for a real man.

You spent an embarrassingly long time curating the perfect outfit to attract a guy worth your time. Casual enough for a quick errand, but still chic. I want to be with someone who admires my confidence. They shouldn't reprimand me for expressing myself.

That's how the feminist part of your brain explained your attire. The other touch-starved half, however, wanted to wear the shortest skirt you owned just to feel men stare holes through it.

You turned into the bakery aisle and pretended to evaluate the nutritional contents of a massive chocolate cake. Maybe this could be plan B, if tonight's endeavor was hopeless.

The comforting hum of fluorescent lights softened the sterile environment around you. Memories of simpler times floated in your mind. Handmade school lunches. Gentle kisses placed on your knee after a bad fall. You closed your eyes, lulled by the promises of love you were granted as a child. Now an adult, you yearned for a partner that could nurture you in a romantic way.

Logan overheard a bag of produce spill onto the floor as he picked up a shopping basket. The cashier dropped it when he saw Logan's blood-stained dress shirt.

Mumbling a string of profanity, he decided to release some steam. "Show's over!" he snapped, flippantly tossing his right arm behind him.

Ignoring the shocked gasps of the other shoppers, Logan sulked further into the store in search of something to soothe his palate.

His doctor tentatively ordered him to "lay off the booze," a suggestion that left three deep puncture wounds in the drywall of his office. Alcohol numbed the emotional and physical pain that plagued him, but it also further delayed his healing powers.

Logan's skeleton was withering away, and all he wanted was a fucking sweet treat.

Your body braced for impact as your chest made contact with a shopper haphazardly turning into the aisle. After dropping the cake onto the pristine white tile, you closed your eyes again, salvaging the moment of peace that was stolen from you.

"Hey, watch where you're going, asshole." You reluctantly opened your eyes and were met with the solid torso of a man.

Slowly raking your gaze up his body, you raised your eyebrows at the sight of his bloody shirt before meeting his narrowed eyes.

Crows feet radiating from the corners. Prescription glasses. He appeared much older than you expected from your brief contact with his chest.

You silently cursed your luck. This meet-cute plan was steadily evolving into a meet-angry situation.

"Not smart to close your eyes in public," he huffed, staring pointedly at the fallen cake. It was hard not to notice your mini skirt. He hasn't seen a skirt that short since the 60s.

Although you had pulled away from him, the man's eyes lingered on your chest. The playful baby-doll top hugged your cleavage in all the right places. Your glossy lips donned a similar shade of pink. He quickly resumed eye contact, feeling like a dirty old man for imagining them wrapped around his cock.

She's too young, you sick fuck. Logan's internal monologue worked overtime to maintain a shred of decency.

Your face turned away from him at the impending embarrassment you were about to put yourself through. Smirking, you shyly retorted, "Not smart to stare at a girl's tits in public." You gently pushed up his glasses further onto the bridge of his nose.

Closing the gap between your chests, you tip-toed to reach his ear before whispering, "It's okay . . . I want you to."

The answer to Logan's suffering was sweeter than any slice of cake he could have indulged in. A pretty little thing was actually flirting with him, a cynical ex-soldier worn by the unforgiving rings of time.

Logan's hands found the back of your elbows and slowly pulled you closer to him. You gasped as you felt his belt buckle catch on the flimsy fabric of your top.

"Careful, doll," he grunted, leaning down to meet the side of your face. "I'm old enough to be your father."

You defiantly peered up at him through your lashes. "Yeah, and . . .?"

The man slowly distanced himself from you, gently tugging the hem of your top down to its original state.

Okay, definitely not the best response to seduce an older man. You chewed the inside of your cheek, stunned by your juvenile comeback.

"I'm sorry, kid. Forget I said anything," he muttered before turning into another aisle. He mentally kicked himself for letting the interaction go that far. Although his aching body and mind yearned for some relief, he wouldn't take advantage of some young girl.

He hurriedly stomped past the cashiers, swiping a few cigars from a distracted employee's station.

After the initial shock wore off, you quickly followed the older man to the parking lot. Totally not stalker-ish at all, right?

You wanted to take care of him. His reluctance to return your lust-sick gaze should have deterred you, but it only made you more desperate.

You watched as his hands dug into his pocket, pulling out a set of keys. The chipper click of the limo doors unlocking motivated you to get his attention.

"Hey! Can we talk?" You yelled, raising an outstretched palm to stop him from getting inside the car.

Logan froze at the sound of your voice. He contemplated being responsible, slamming his door and driving off without a second glance.

The gentle pressure of your hand wrapping around his wrist made him think extremely irresponsible thoughts.

Turning around to meet your gaze, the older man swiftly opened the passenger door. "Get in. Now," he growled.

Words betrayed you. All you responded with was a surprised squeak as he used your grip on his wrist to push you further into the vehicle.

His eyes widened as you briefly parted your thighs to get settled in the lush leather seat. The sinfully short hem of your skirt bunched up, revealing your underwear.

Logan whipped his head to the front of the limo, avoiding the sight of your body. Unfortunately, he couldn't avoid how you felt against his. You sat at an angle towards him, knees pressing against his thigh. His body tensed as you placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Why were you following me, huh?" he asked, finally meeting your eyes. "I've had a long fuckin' day and I need answers." He couldn't believe that a young woman like you would be interested in him.

"Yeah, you're old enough to be my father, maybe older-" you paused to move your left hand onto his thigh. "-but I'm done playing with boys." You shyly turned your head before continuing, "Need a real man."

Logan was done holding back. Now, it all made sense. Your lack of direction in the store, the low cut of your outfit that was way too sexy for a late night grocery run. We're both adults, he reasoned. She wants this.

He gingerly cradled your jaw with his large hand, turning your head towards his. "You sure about this, sweetheart?

You covered his hand with your own, bringing your lips to his in a spontaneous kiss. "I-I need to hear you," he stuttered.

"Shut up and fuck me, . . . " you sighed, pausing to ask for his name.

"Logan . . . call me Logan, doll." His left hand snaked around your waist, bunching the delicate material and exposing your breasts.

As you leaned into his palm, he fished the limo keys out of his pocket and clicked twice, locking the doors. He fondled the underside of your tits before rolling the sensitive nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

You were grateful for the tinted windows that shielded your embarrassing moans from the public.

"Already whining for me, hm? So fuckin' needy," he hummed, pushing up your top even further. You crossed your arms to undress, but Logan swatted them away, explaining, "It's cute. Wanna see your tits bounce for me, baby."

He gripped your ass with both hands and effortlessly swung you onto the broad expanse of his lap.

Your back arched as his rough palm cupped your pussy, thumb languidly tracing your sensitive bud through the cotton.

"But this . . . has to go," he drawled, tugging the elastic of your panties before letting it go with a faint snap.

It was too much. You were splayed over the lap of a stranger, hips wantonly rocking yourself over his prominent bulge and mewling as your sensitive clit caught on the rough fabric of his slacks.

He stilled your movements with his hands, lovingly kneading the flesh of your hips. "You okay with this?" he asked, searching your eyes for any sign of doubt. "Yeah, Logan . . . more than okay. Need you."

You loved that he was confident enough to take what he wanted but also gracious enough to check in, unlike the boys you were used to fucking around with.

His fingers hooked around the waistband of your skirt and panties, skillfully pushing your legs against your chest as he pulled them off. He decided against slicing them off with his claws, not wanting to hurt you. "Fuck. You're so pretty. My sweet, sweet girl . . ." he cooed. You whined as your aching cunt was finally exposed to Logan's hungry gaze and the chill night air. He groaned as you resumed desecrating his lap with your juices.

Your breath hitched as Logan traced two fingers along your bottom lip. You granted him access, playfully darting your tongue around his digits.

After his fingers were thoroughly soaked, he used your saliva to gently trace your hole, noticing the faint flutter of your walls.

"Need me to fill you up, hm? Poor baby's clenching around nothing. Let me fix that . . ." Logan's palm brushed against your clit as his fingers plunged into you, setting a steady pace.

You were incredibly wet, but he needed to prep you for his thick cock. He drooled, collecting a heavy wad of spit onto his tongue before letting it fall onto your pussy.

"Ah-ah!" You exclaimed, surprised by the contact. You bit your lip, cheeks flushing at the lewd feeling of his spit mixing with your wetness.

He used his other hand to slap repeatedly against your puffy folds, mesmerized by how vulnerable you were being for him.

"Yeah, you like that?" He whispered, curling his fingers as they met your cervix. You covered your mouth, desperately trying to maintain some modesty. Logan withdrew his left hand to pry away your arm and swallow your moans, sloppily slotting his lips into yours.

You gasped into his mouth as you felt your cunt spasm around his fingers, gushing all over his tight slacks.

"Oh, fuck! Logan . . . " you mewled, biting his lower lip while he continued to finger you through your orgasm.

Your head fell into the inviting crook of his neck, nuzzling his graying beard. "Atta girl, come for me," he cooed.

Logan peered down at you, noticing wet droplets dampening his beard. You were silently crying, tears cascading down your puffy cheeks before landing on his face.

At first, he was alarmed. "Hey, hey, shhhh," he purred. "What's the matter, doll?"

His cock twitched when he realized you were smiling against his neck.

"Nothing's wrong, Logan . . . you make me feel so good, that's all."

He planted a sweet kiss on your forehead. "Yeah? Want me to make you feel even better? Fill you up for real this time?"

You nodded dumbly, still basking in the haze of your release.

"Nuh-uh. Words." The simple command made you rut into his lap.

You shuddered while responding. "Wanna feel you inside me. Need your-" Logan bucked up into you. "-cock."

He slid his hands under your thighs, briefly pushing you forward so he could unbuckle his belt. Your small hands slinked toward his waist. "Let me do it," you pleaded, hastily sliding his belt through its loops and tossing it to the floor.

You pulled his cock out of his slacks, leaning down to press sweet little kisses to the head. Your thighs burned with the effort, but it was worth it to feel him momentarily lose control. Logan hissed sharply, "Good girl, fuck-" before guiding his thick cock into your heavenly mouth.

You licked a prominent vein that teased its way above his waistband. The taste of him was utterly intoxicating. You moaned onto his length, choking back tears as he suddenly thrust up into your eager throat.

The delicious weight of his cock on your tongue was short-lived. He cupped your face, forcing your mouth to slide past the tip with an obscene pop.

"Won't last long if you keep doing that, doll. Takes a lot less to get me riled up these days," he explained.

You nodded as you straightened yourself, using your knees to hover above his lap. He teasingly ran the flushed tip of his cock through your folds before sinking into your weeping pussy.

"Oh my god! fuck-" you cried, lowering your hips to embrace his full length. Your hands found stability on Logan's shoulders as you bounced on his cock.

Logan stared in awe at your tits. They were practically spilling out the sides of your cute top, jiggling with each movement of your hips.

As he admired your form, you drunk in the sight of his coarse salt and pepper beard. His wiry glasses barely held onto the slope of his strong nose due to your eager movements. You paid special attention to his crimson-stained shirt, wondering how he was enduring the wounds.

"You're hurt." You stated, pausing to slowly unbutton his dress shirt.

Logan's hands grabbed a handful of your ass and slammed you down onto his lap, forcing you to continue taking his cock.

"Never said you could stop," he huffed. "It'll take time, but I'm healing."

You gasped as your clit hitched on the bunched fabric of his slacks, frantically shrugging off his shirt in the process. A devastating moan ripped from Logan's throat as you peppered kisses on his wounds. The coppery taste of his blood was oddly soothing, reminding you that the man buried in your cunt was real and not just a figment of your lust-fueled imagination.

Logan loved how dazed you looked, your chest rising and falling with each shaky breath, your pupils dilated and glossy. His cock twitched every time your soft tits brushed against his face. You whined as the steady rhythm of your hips faltered, hinting at your imminent release.

"Lean forward, baby. Let your old man take care of you," he sighed, wrapping his broad arms around your waist. You allowed yourself to slump forward, arching your back and playfully wiggling your ass in the air.

You yelped as he slapped your ass with enough force to feel the sting radiate from his outstretched palm. "Such a fuckin' tease," he growled, filling you up in one thrust. He set a punishing pace that made you sob into his chest. The loud squelches of your release echoed throughout the limo, mirroring your high-pitched wines.

"Oh, my god! . . ." you mewled, savoring the feeling of his cock stretching your walls. Your breath hitched every time his hips met yours, balls slapping against the sensitive skin of your ass.

He fucked up into your cunt, relishing the fact that you'd probably never had a cock as big as his. Logan stared at where you were connected, hypnotized by the subtle drag of your folds along his rugged length.

"Don't know what I did to deserve a pretty girl like you." His teeth tugged on the delicate strap of your top, exposing your breasts. His mouth enveloped the bud, gently sucking and pulling as they hardened.

"Logan . . . can't take it anymore. I'm close." You clenched around him, earning another hard slap on your ass.

"You gonna come for me sweetheart, hm?" He somehow increased his pace, hips drilling into your sensitive cunt. "C'mon, come all over my cock. Such a sweet young thing, so eager to please . . . " he hummed into your ear.

"And just so we're clear, I am definitely older than your father." His filthy words made you arch even higher, stilling your hips mid-air and allowing Logan to fuck you through your release.

The sound of you faintly chanting his name as you came sent him over the edge. "You can take it," he encouraged as your pathetic whines intermingled with his unabashed groans. His hips drove home, bouncing you harshly against his tense thighs and spilling into you with a low growl.

You almost blacked out at the feeling of his cum spurting into your walls, reaching even further when Logan buried his cock to the hilt. You clenched around him, overstimulated and thoroughly fucked.

"That's it, just relax . . . You look so pretty milking my cock," he praised, brushing stray hair away from your face.

You managed to sit upright and shakily moved to lift yourself off his cock, but Logan quickly steadied your hips. He's still hard, you realized, fascinated by his renewed vigor.

He panted, obviously just as spent as you were.

"So, uh, tomorrow, the Italian place on fifth street, 8 PM?"

You narrowed your eyes, incredibly confused at his choice of words after experiencing the best sex you've ever had.

"Our first date," he clarified. He kissed your cheek and you blushed at the contrast between the innocent action and the fact that his hard cock was still buried in your cunt. "After all, I'm a real man, right? And real men plan dates." He plastered on a cocky grin, repeating your earlier statements.

"Okay, old man. It's a date." You smiled, kissing his mouth with passion.

Ah!!! I had so much fun writing this. Old Man Logan, when will it be my turn >:[

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gayerthanevertbh · 3 months

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good girls have gone… bad?

summary: her sister has been on your thoughts ever since you became friends with yelena. you two exchanged a quick gaze, and you both wondered right away who natasha romanoff was. sleeping with your best friend's sister isn't such a bad idea, considering yelena left you to spend some time alone with natasha, right? you knew she was way older than you, and you loved that.

warnings: smut, age difference (reader is 21; natasha is 37) blowjob, natasha has a penis, dirty talking, and more - 18+ minors dni

note: i'm back! i'm sorry if i haven't been updating, if i have to be honest i lost interest in this account. but now that i'm back, i think i'll be writing here more often! i apologize if there are some errors with this fic

“I have to get my report card at uni today,” While I was engrossed in a vlog on my phone, Yelena let out a sigh as she devoured her bag of chips. “Are you okay being alone here for now? I mean, you’re with Natasha. So you’re in good hands.”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Your sister doesn’t talk much.”

“She has a day off from work; give her a break.”

I laughed involuntarily. “Even though she’s not at work, she doesn’t talk much. She’ll talk if we want something for dinner or something.”

"I believe she is simply shy," Yelena kissed me on the forehead and said as she got her bag off the couch. “Listen, call me if you need anything. Just hope that I have a signal.”

I smiled at her as she departed, leaving me in solitude within the living room, embracing the tranquility. Yelena and I have been friends since senior year, which I find amusing considering that I have always seen her at school since I was a freshman. It's etched in my memory how she was the one who reached out to me initially, and from there, we embarked on a whirlwind of parties and adventures. Over the course of the past two years, she became the sole person I could rely on. We were supposedly living together at our university, but she mentioned that I could sleep at her place any time whenever we’re on campus since her place was conveniently located nearby. Then, upon encountering her sister, Natasha Romanoff, my heart seemed to come to a halt.

She was absolutely stunning, without a doubt the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on. She had a chic, cropped hairstyle, delicate hands, and a radiant smile that seemed to stretch for miles whenever I caught a glimpse. I found everything about her quite appealing, including her tendency to be more reserved in conversation. I often pondered whether or not Yelena had parents, but she remained tight-lipped on the subject. She only shared with me that from a young age, Natasha whisked her away from their parents and they began their life in New York. Her sister has always been the one supporting them financially, which is why she has been consistently absent. However, Yelena's admiration for her sister knows no bounds.

It was sweet, which made me jealous sometimes.

As I made my way back to Yelena's room, Natasha emerged from her own room, a warm smile gracing her face.

“I assume Yelena’s not at home?”

I shook my head. “No, she’s getting her report card at university today.”

“Oh,” She let out an exasperated sigh and casually leaned against the wall. “And you? You’re not getting your report card?”

“I already got it; my parents weren’t so proud this time.”

“What did you fail?” She let out a soft laugh, fixing her gaze on me intensely, causing a knot to form in my stomach. I'm not sure if it was positive or negative, but her intense gaze made my heart skip a beat.

“Finance,” I murmured. “I didn’t focus with that subject that much, which I completely regret.”

I heard her giggle again, and it made my heart race even faster. When I give it some thought, I realize that Natasha and I are similar in one area: sex. I don't discuss it with Yelena or my other friends, but I don't feel embarrassed talking to Natasha about it. Although we've never actually done it, we were both flirtatious about it. Natasha usually asks me to come to her room while Yelena is sleeping, where she usually spends her time masturbating at the foot of the bed. And when it was my turn, I would smother my fingers when Natasha expressed her wish to touch me.

In her bed.

The following day, we just look at each other as if nothing had happened and don't discuss this. Since Yelena didn't seem suspicious, which I was grateful for, I carried on doing this with Natasha until she eventually became tired of me. I was probably just another girl in her view, someone to be used. She was, nevertheless, to me like the book that I couldn't put down. I was drawn to her and wanted to spend time with her.

I could never acknowledge such a thing.

“I was wondering if...” Her mouth became silent as she walked over to me, smirking, and brushed her delicate fingertips over a strand of my hair. “Maybe you’d join me in our secret affair?”

I snorted. “Affair? Natasha, we aren’t in a relationship.”

"Well, it would be impolite to suggest that we watch porn together or something; you are aware of the subject."

I debated whether or not to do it today because Yelena might return at any moment. I sighed heavily and shook my head because she had not told me what time she would be home. It was a bad idea, because if that turned out to be true, we could be caught.

But it wouldn’t hurt to do this... Right?

“Okay,” I whispered to her as she trailed her fingers on my collarbone. “Take me to your bedroom.”

“Shit,”Natasha whispered, holding on to her mattress sheet. “That feels so good, baby. K-Keep going; don’t stop.”

I stared at her face, contoured with lust, and bobbed my head up and down. Considering that her cock felt erect in my mouth, I find it fascinating how much this makes her want to engage. She lifted her hips a little as I licked and sucked on the tip of her dick.

“Good girl,” She whispers, pressing my head farther down as she runs her fingers through my hair. “You like that? You like my cock in your mouth?”

I let out a quiet affirmation as I sensed a certain anticipation on my tongue, observing her eyebrows furrow each time I took her length into my mouth. “You’re so big,” I withdrew my mouth from her cock and caressed her whole length, filling the room with loud, sloshing sounds. “I’ve never done anything like this, Daddy.”

“Oh yeah?” She gently sat up on the bed and slapped the head of her dick onto my lips by grabbing the base of her length. “Open up, sweetheart. I need to cum in your throat.”

Ideally, I would prefer that not to occur. I had to taste her, though, because it was Natasha. Heck, I didn't even give a damn if Yelena was home right now. All I wanted was for this to occur, for her to require my presence. I bobbed my head angrily and made gag noises as I sucked on her dick once more.

It turned on Natasha even more as I did so.

“You’re so warm, fuck...” I knelt on the bed as her words faltered. "You're such a slut for my dick, look at you. Tell me, you wanted this, didn’t you?”

More than you could ever know.

She was probably amazed at my ability to pull off such a feat as she watched me in disbelief as I placed her genitalia into my mouth. The action caused me to cough a little, and I choked on her genitalia right away. And I pulled my head back. She pouted, her whole length smeared across my face as she gripped the back of my head. "Baby, I thought we were just gon' talk dirty to each other."

I whimpered. “I needed you, Daddy.”

“Yeah? You needed me?”

“So bad,” I whined as I kissed her length. “Please don’t stop.”

“Open your mouth.”

She fucked her cock by pushing it back down my throat. Hard. I throw my eyes back, and Natasha's hips falter as she strikes the back of my throat. She recoils her head. “I’m going to cum down your throat, and you’re going to swallow it, okay, baby? You are so good for me, so so good...”

If I were the only girl in the world, I would do this every single day. However, I was aware that I was probably not destined for her because she was much older than I was and I was too young. People will make judgments; she wouldn't think that of me.

Natasha remained motionless for a few moment before turning to face me with a broad smile. "You feel like you're wet to me?" I moaned around her cock as she reached for my covered cunt and gripped it. "Oh my god! Fuck, keep doing that, baby girl.”

I kept moaning all over her length as she quickly and forcefully fucked my mouth, causing me to gag every time her tip touched the back of my throat. I was her sex toy, and I never wanted to be anything else once she put both of her hands on the side of my head.

“I want to fuck your pussy,” She continued to fuck my mouth like an animal while whispering in a rough manner. “I want to—ugh—I want to rip your pussy apart, especially that throat of yours. I bet you’re so tight, baby. Fuck, I can imagine myself ripping you open.”

Rip me open, make me fall apart. I’ll be anything to you, anything.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Natasha drew her length a bit and rolled her hips against my face, her cockhead resting on my tongue instead. “I’m going to cum on your tongue and you better swallow it; don’t waste any drop.”

She was hooding her eyes and idly stroking her dick when I parted my lips wide for her. She glanced at the door once, then grabbed my jaw and drew me in. “Here it comes, baby. I-I’m going to cum—fuck almost there just... Argh!”

She stroked her dick widly as she came onto my tongue. She kept stroking her length, and I had to close my eyes because I could feel some of her semen falling on my face. However, she released all of it on my tongue. Slapping her tip on my face and smearing her length all over it, Natasha let out a long, raspy moan. “You look so pretty in my cum.”

“You c-came a lot...”

With a nod, she reclined on the mattress. "Yes, I did. It's been a while since I've truly done that," she says, continuing to stroke her dick, albeit more slowly. I got up and grabbed the closest towel I could find after realizing that I had to go before Yelena could see or smell the sex in this room. "Are you sure you haven't done that with anyone?"

“I never give blowjobs,” I stated with a small voice as I wiped off my face with a clean towel. “When was the last time you had a girl suck on your dick?”

Natasha was standing in front of me as I turned around. As soon as she gripped my waist and drew me even closer to her body, I felt my breath catch. She let out a long breath and muttered, "You were the first person to give me an orgasm in a very long time, darling."

I chuckled lightly. “I thought you’d never do something like that. With me, at least.”

“You’re very pretty,” She pulls down my shorts, gesturing for me to roll my eyes back as she holds her dick in her palm. “Can I feel you? Just a bit? I just... I want to imagine what it’s like to feel your pussy rubbing on me.”

I gazed into her eyes, taking note of the intensity of her desire. So I lowered my panties to my mid thighs and touched her cock, gently stimulating the sensitive area. We both felt a rush of pleasure as Natasha leaned her head against my shoulder, drawing me in closer to her.

“You’re making me hard again,” She whimpered and pressed her cock against me, causing me to scream quietly. “Oh shit, you are tight!”

“Fuck, Nat—Yelena could go home any minute!”

“Just one minute,” she begged as she looked at me in the eye. “Baby, let me fuck you.”

“Okay, okay,” I whispered and felt myself being pushed against the edge of her desk, her hands hoisting my legs up. “Oh god—”

"God, I’m about to rip you open here,” Natasha spoke with such assurance that it began to pique my interest. I bite my bottom lip as she retreats a little and thrusts back into my cunt. “Let it all out, baby girl. Let Daddy hear you—”

“Y/n, I’m back!”

“Shit!” I exclaimed and pushed her away, pulling up my shorts. She immediately grabbed her boxers and wore them before I reached for the door. “Natasha, she can’t see me like this. Or you like this!”

“Just hide here for a moment,” Natasha led me into her bathroom, responding to my request. I widen my eyes in anticipation, waiting for her next words. “Just for this moment, okay? I’ll handle everything.”

I recognized what I had done as soon as she shut the door. I looked so desperate that I should never have given Natasha a blowjob in the first place. I shook my head carefully, running my fingers through my hair. "What did I do?" Sitting on the floor, with more memories of us playing along in my thoughts, I asked myself. Was I a lousy friend? Would Yelena even accept me if I was?

I don’t know.

hehe let me know if i should make this as a story

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x reader #older!nat #natasha romanoff x yn #natasha romanoff smut

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wannabe-simblr · 7 months

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Casual chic looks for your pregnant sims

Look 1: Jumpsuit | Coat | Shoes

Look 2: Jumper + Skirt | Jacket | Sneakers

Look 3: Top | Jeans | Shoes | Bag

Look 4: Dress | Jacket | Heels | Bag

poses @helgatisha

Thank you to all the cc creators ♡ @bluerose-sims @lumysims @jius-sims @seoulsoul-sims @idsims @chloem-sims4 @redheadsims-cc

More lookbooks here ♡

#ts4 #sims 4 #the sims 4 #ts4 lookbook #s4 lookbook #sims lookbook #sims 4 lookbook #sims 4 cas #cas lookbook #cc finds #cc list #sims 4 screenshots #simblr #showusyoursims #the sims community #pregnancy looks

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bluesidez · 2 months

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Gym Rat Miguel Part 11 | chapter on AO3 for easier scrolling

content warning: fluff, some hurt/comfort?? angst??? bittersweet moments???, recreational use of zaza, some nerd talk, 18+ so MDNI, p in v sex (first time 😗)

word count: 10.1k, halfway proofread (don't ask me NOTHING...)

shout out to @hyjionie and @hwasoup for one of the ideas here! 😗 you guys will know it when you see it!

Prev | Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

GymRat!Miguel whose mom was driving him crazy. The flight for New York was at 7 am and somehow she was up running around the house at 2 am.

“Miguel! Get up, we have to go. Now!”

“Ma, no one is even driving on the road right at this hour. There's no traffic."

"Which is why you need to get up and move. You know Gabriel takes forever. Get up!"

GymRat!Miguel who groggily put on his clothes. It was the hoodie you got for him for Christmas with the doodle of the two of you on the front. If he was going to be stuck in the airport for hours, he might as well be comfortable.

GymRat!Miguel who looked made sure that his laptop was loaded with things to do.

He could catch up on shows he knew you watched so that you could have someone to rant to about them. He could listen to that one podcast you mentioned just because you mentioned it. He could read that one manga you were raving about because he was not going to compete with fictional men, and maybe, he could steal ideas from it.

GymRat!Miguel who went to wake up Gabriel before their mom's voice pierced both of their ears again.

He opened the door to see Gabriel staring bug-eyed at his wall while he ate a bowl of cereal.

“Did you go to sleep?” Miguel asked, closing the door and walking closer.

“No,” Gabriel said. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Miguel ran his hand over his hair, curly strands bouncing back, “Promise me you’ll try to sleep on the plane?”

Gabriel took his bowl to his mouth, slurping up the last drops, “Only if the voices let me.”

“Right,” Miguel says then takes his bowl from him. “Maybe you can have a conversation with them right now.”

“And maybe I will!”

GymRat!Miguel who stares at the bags his dad has stuffed into the trunk with awe.

“Pa, you know we’ll only be there for three days, right?”

George presses against the trunk with a little more force than needed, “You never know what could happen, mijo.”

GymRat!Miguel whose bones shake with exhaustion as he stares out the window on the way to the airport. Maybe it’s due to the lack of sun, but he’s never felt a cold summer night.

GymRat!Miguel who sighs as his dad argues with the staff over a suitcase that Miguel knew would be too heavy. He’s not even sure what his dad has in there.

GymRat!Miguel who thinks that TSA is having a field day despite his family being one of the few coming in at this hour.

The man in front of him was taking way too long to pat him down and he got the hint was Miguel scowled at him.

GymRat!Miguel who had about four hours to kill before the plane came, so he decided to walk around the airport with Gabriel and pretend like they were a spoiled set of twins shopping casually in France.

“What do you think about this, Mimi? A little chic, no?” Gabriel held up a Gucci scarf to his green hoodie.

Miguel stuck his nose up, “No, Bribri, it’s so yesterday.”

“Ugh,” Gabriel put the scarf back like it was on fire, “You’re so right. Thank god you’re here or I’d be so lost!”

GymRat!Miguel who feels like he’s back at home with Gabriel as they try their best to avoid the luxury brand store staff. Every time one would get close, they would giggle and rush out of the store.

GymRat!Miguel and Gabriel who crash back at their terminal with enough food to feed a family of five.

“What is all of this?” Conchata asks as Miguel hands her a coffee, a frustrated look on her face.

“Ma, it’s almost the crack of dawn and we’re hungry. Big boys gotta eat,” Gabriel said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

George reached in one of the bags and grabbed a sausage sandwich, “He’s right, Conchata. We can’t survive on two bites.”

Conchata eyed her three boys with her arms crossed, “All of it better be finished and I don’t want to hear one complaint about your stomachs.”

Miguel just snickered. It’s not like she bought the food anyway.

GymRat!Miguel who is watching an older couple meditate at his terminal as the sun begins to rise.

“Yo,” Gabriel says. “That looks relaxing as hell. I’ma join them.”

GymRat!Miguel who is wheezing as he watches Gabriel plant himself between them to spread his arms and breathe at deep paces.

GymRat!Miguel who is thankful that his parents bought better-than-Economy seats, but that still didn’t stop any of the O’Hara boys from feeling like they were in one of those miniature museums.

Both his dad and Gabriel were already tall, but Miguel was more than tall with a heavier body to match. If another compartment almost smacks him in the face, he might lose it.

GymRat!Miguel who takes off his headphones when Gabriel grips his arm.

“The voices,” Gabriel whispers. “The voices are here.”

“Are we doing this the whole flight?”

“Miguel, what if they tell me to do something drastic?”

Miguel looked to the window next to Gabriel and then up to the ceiling, “Three hours.”

“Three hours in which my brain could be infiltrated!”

“I’m closing my eyes, Gabri.”

“But-”

“Closing!”

GymRat!Miguel who used the flight to catch up on sleep and listen to the playlist you made for him. You gifted it to him earlier this month and said it would grow more and more. Miguel loved it because it showed that you were thinking about him, daydreaming about him. It also meant that he could connect to you more.

No sound of crying babies, no smell of the artificial air packed tight, no light from overhead, just you and him in his mind, dancing on clouds.

His heart felt like it followed the tempo of each song that played, the words and melodies taking over his mind.

GymRat!Miguel whose mind wanders by the time the second half of the playlist starts. It was sensual and intimate in a way that passed the sticky sweetness of the first half.

He was thinking about the nights when it was just the two of you and a bed. He could feel your body tangled with his in the sheets and your eyes piercing his skin. He could see you in front of him as the music played, the words glowing on your skin and the harmonies bounding you to him.

GymRat!Miguel who is yanked out of his fantasy of him pressing you up against a wall when his body jerks from the turbulence.

He opens his eyes to see Gabriel knocked out and not a clue in the world.

GymRat!Miguel who is always reminded how idiotic people can be at the airport.

Standing in the aisles is not going to make the people in the front move any faster.

GymRat!Miguel who could finally stretch his legs once he exits the terminal.

“If I get on another plane where a kids stares back at me the entire flight again, I’m going to spin my head like an owl,” Gabriel mumbles as he cracks his neck.

GymRat!Miguel who has a time laughing at his dad slowly losing his mind.

First, he complained because his fabric luggage was lopsided and twisted from its buckled components, extra bag barely hanging on.

Second, a wheel on his luggage was a few more spins from giving out. Every time the bag would skirt across the shining floors of the airport, George would grunt in frustration and yank it back. Gabriel almost pissed himself leaning onto Miguel from laughing.

Third, the ride to the hotel almost gave him a heart attack. The cabs in New York were fast and no-nonsense when it came to getting people to their destinations. The cab drivers were also known to bob and weave into lanes like it was nothing. At every switch of a lane, George was mumbling prayers into the air.

Conchata kept a hand on his shoulder as best as she could from the middle back seat, but George’s grip on the handle was turning white as he tried his best not to yell into the driver’s ear. Gabriel was filming him from the left side, wheezing like it was the funniest thing in the world.

GymRat!Miguel who dropped his stuff off, took a nap, and used the rest of the afternoon to walk around Times Square.

“You refused to go to a Broadway show with me but mark my words, you’re going to one with me before the year is over,” Gabriel pointed his finger at Miguel.

“Unfortunately.”

GymRat!Miguel who watches as Gabriel dance battles with the random people in costumes in Times Square when they try to heckle him.

At first, Miguel was worried for him trying to navigate such a bustling place, but there are moments like this that show him that his little brother has always been quick on his feet. His little brother was light years ahead of him in so many aspects and he couldn’t be prouder.

GymRat!Miguel who probably filled his phone with more pictures and videos of Gabriel experiencing New York for the first time than were necessary.

He couldn’t help it. His baby brother was soaring.

GymRat!Miguel who sends you places that he wants to visit with you.

Envisioning you in his hoodie or with a fluffy, long scarf and walking down the sidewalk hand-in-hand with you had him excited to see you again. You would shine so brightly under the Christmas lights.

GymRat!Miguel who didn’t get back to the hotel with Gabriel until the evening. His parents both snoring in the room across the hall.

GymRat!Miguel who still manages to get up early enough to hit the hotel gym before he and his family go tackle Gabriel’s dorm room.

GymRat!Miguel who feels like the only other lady in the gym is trying her best to follow everything that he does.

So much room in the tiny cube of a gym that they’re in and she moves to wherever he is after five minutes.

GymRat!Miguel who is annoyed when she taps him in the middle of his set. He removes one ear of his headphones and tries his best to stop the disgusted look on his face from forming.

“Hey! Sorry, I was wondering if I could use this machine! I’m kind of in a hurry.”

“After I finish this set,” she jerks back at that. “I’m using it right now.”

“Well, I just thought that-”

“Ma’am.”

“I’m 22! Don’t call me ma’am.”

Miguel’s eyebrows went up. He could hear Gabriel in the center of his mind calling her a “hard 22,” so he just put his headphones back on and continued to work through his set.

GymRat!Miguel who thinks that interaction ruined the girl’s mood but he really didn’t have the energy to be concerned.

He had to freshen up for breakfast.

GymRat!Miguel who feels absolutely cramped when he steps into Gabriel’s dorm.

“It’s not bad!” Conchata rubs Gabriel’s back as he looks around with his mouth in the shape of a line. “Once we clean it and set up your things, it’ll be just like home.”

Gabriel puts his hands on his hips, “Home doesn’t look like cell block 1.”

“At least the window overlooks the city,” Miguel says.

The door behind them opens with George poking head inside.

“Mijo, we need to set some ground rules. Your suitemates have no idea how to organize.”

“Did you go in their rooms?” Gabriel asked in disbelief.

“It’s not my fault they left the door open!” George puts his hands up.

GymRat!Miguel who works harder than he did for his own dorm. Every piece of clothing was in its rightful place, every surface was sparkling clean, the bed was made with minimal pillows and a giant RJ churro plushie, and there was an odd-shaped humidifier plugged up on his desk.

“I’m putting your cleaning supplies in the corner of your closet, so this room should stay clean,” Miguel grumbled as he stuck a mini vacuum against the wall.

“Whatever, mom,” Gabriel replied.

“Gabriel,” Conchata had a hand on her hip and a finger pointed at her son. “Don’t whatever him. He’s right. There’s no excuse for this room to be a mess.”

Miguel and Gabriel stood in shock at Conchata’s quick defense.

“Are we in the twilight zone?” Gabriel asks out the side of his mouth.

“Maybe it’s the air pressure,” Miguel whispers back.

GymRat!Miguel who equates Conchata’s growing softness to the fact that not one, but two of her boys will be leaving the nest.

The sentiment is sweet, but by the fourth time she just lets him and Gabriel roam the busy streets, he’s internally freaking out.

It was far different from the woman who pinched their ears when they tried to sneak sweets into the shopping carts or the woman who had her shoe locked and loaded for when one of them did anything to annoy her.

GymRat!Miguel who stays up late to talk all night with Gabriel about anything and everything.

“Which one of these do you think is better?”

Gabriel reaced into his backpack to unfold two flags, one with Jungkook over the Mexican flag and a Weenie Hut Jr. sign.

“Well, I definitely feel like there’s a clear answer.”

“You’re so right,” Gabriel says and folds up the Spongebob sign. “It’s better to represent.”

Miguel only sighed, “If that’s what you insist, Gabri.”

GymRat!Miguel who hugs Gabriel tight as their parents pack the cab back to the airport.

They’ve dropped Gabriel back at his school and said their goodbyes all morning. Miguel feels like he’s fading away. He bites his lips in order not to cry, but it’s hard when Gabriel's hands grip his hoodie like a lifeline.

“Knock em’ dead, baby bro.”

Gabriel leans back with a wet laugh, “They won’t see me coming.”

GymRat!Miguel who waves out the window as the cab drives off. Gabriel waves back with both hands and a smile on his face.

Miguel keeps looking back and Gabriel is still standing there. He wants to tell the cab to turn around.

After the fourth look, Gabriel is no longer looking at the direction the cab went but to a girl who also seems to have said goodbye to her family. He’s talking animatedly, arms moving as fast as the words fly out of his mouth.

Miguel turns back around and pulls the strings on his hoodie hard, eyes welling up with tears.

“Ay, pobrecito,” Conchata pulls Miguel into her arms, kissing the top of his covered head. “I know, it’s ok.”

Miguel’s lungs take in chopped breaths, hands never moving from the strings. He doesn’t know how to stop the tears from falling.

“George, you too?”

To Conchata’s other side, George was looking out of the window, sniffling with a fist covering his mouth.

“It feels like just yesterday I was teaching him how to kick a ball!”

Miguel blew out some air, “That probably was yesterday. He sucks at soccer. And football. And kickball.”

“How did he ever make the basketball team?” George says, voice riddled with sorrow.

“His height, pa,” Miguel’s throat was tight again. “I didn’t call him beanstalk for nothing.”

The two of them lean onto Conchata, snot and tears crowding their faces.

“Lose one baby and I gain two more,” Conchata sighed as she rubbed their backs, barely space in the little cab.

GymRat!Miguel whose eyes remained puffy and swollen the whole trip back home.

GymRat!Miguel who had to go back to school as soon as possible.

He loved his parents, but being in the house without Gabriel took a lot more patience than he was willing to give.

GymRat!Miguel who doesn’t see you coming while he's looking for you around the Student Center.

The campus feels a little different since he’s become more familiar with it. Now he’s got shortcuts and pathways down. He knows more places to hide away in and he carries more tips to survive than he did his freshman year.

A tap on his shoulder has him turning around. He spins, looks down, and his mood immediately lifts.

You’re standing there with a pretty smile on your face in the midst of the bustling crowd. Miguel bends down to pick you up, arms wrapping around your thighs, mindful of your skirt. You laugh his name out as you cling to his shoulders.

He kisses your lips, mouth warm and cozy like the sun shining through the window in a cool room.

“I missed you so much,” he breathes after two heavy pecks. He moved to the corner of your mouth to your nose to your cheek. “‘M happy to see you.”

“I’m happy to see you, too,” you run a hand through his hair and cradle his face, looking into his eyes. “Are you alright?”

Miguel puts you down, knowing your limit for periodic PDA was nearing its end.

“Better with you here.”

“Really?” You lean into his chin on his chest with hearts in your eyes.

“Absolutely,” he plants his arms around you. “Been replaying your playlist for me. You want me to be your good boy?”

Your eyes get wider and you bury your face in his chest.

“Why are you hiding? You should have known I was going to ask about it,” Miguel chuckles as you groan.

“You’re using it against me.”

“No, I just want to confirm!”

The irritated face you gave him was too much, he had to tease you more.

“Just say the word.”

“Hmph,” you lean back as Miguel grins. “Well, be a good boy and help me find our friends.”

Miguel let you pull him, smile loopy, “Whatever you say, baby.”

GymRat!Miguel who is glad to see his friends again. Peter, MJ, Jess, and Ben are sitting at one of the high tables and they all greet you both with smiles.

“The lovebirds are here!” Peter reached to shake Miguel by the shoulders. “Good to see you both alive.”

“Never better,” Miguel replied, holding the seat out for you to sit on.

“Look at him,” Jess snickered. “His eyes are practically shaped like hearts.”

“It’s ok to look away from her Miguel,” Ben said. “She’s not going to disappear.”

“C’mon guys, leave them alone. Haven’t you ever had someone you’re head over heels about?” MJ asks.

“No,” Ben and Jess say in a monotone voice.

“I’m sure you’ll find someone someday,” Peter quips as he wraps his arm around MJ. “Someone to stare at like they’re the only ones at the table.”

Everyone looked at Miguel talking to you as you tapped on your phone. He would whisper something in your ear and you would push him back with a shy laugh. His hands rubbed on your shoulders and your thighs.

“Movie night might be insufferable,” Ben sighed.

Jess leaned back, “A girlfriend or boyfriend would suffice. I’m not picky!”

“I am,” Ben says with raised eyebrows. “I need someone to acknowledge my beauty.”

GymRat!Miguel who does in fact become insufferable during movie night.

Flashing bright colors are painting the white dorm walls, lighting up the room, and the two of you are cuddled together on his bed. It’s way too cramped and Miguel could barely fit on the thing by himself, but somehow, he has you laid in his arms, a blanket covering you both.

He’s not even sure what movie is playing on the projector because his mind is too focused on you. His hands keep wandering your body under the thick blue fluff. He’s watching you body jump and listening to your breath hitch as he kneads your thighs, your sides, your stomach, your chest.

He really did miss you and he wanted to take this time to become acquainted with your body again.

But you would kill him if he let his thoughts take over and sink his hands under your clothes.

So he settled with touching you and kissing your neck occasionally, your mind to preoccupied with the movie before you.

GymRat!Miguel who insists on a snack run and makes you tag along.

Does he want snacks? Not really.

Does he use it as an opportunity to make out with you on the outside of his car? Absolutely.

“Mig, mm-” you melt into him as he pries your mouth open. “I thought you said you wanted milkshakes.”

Miguel cages you against the car, pans down to your chest, then back up to your eyes, “My milkshake is right here, though.”

You scoff, hit his chest, and push his arms to walk around to the passenger seat.

GymRat!Miguel who has milkshakes ready for everyone on their way out to their own dorms. He spent way too long playing with you in the privacy of his car.

GymRat!Miguel who by his second day of classes thinks he has the ideal fall semester schedule planned.

He’s still blocking things out on his calendar, but his classes are a bit more spread out this time, which means more time to be with you.

With your stacked studio classes, he was going to take every opportunity he could to see you.

GymRat!Miguel who wanted to take up a basic game programming class as an elective. What better way to nerd out than to get insight on how his favorite games worked?

Learning C++ and Python, breaking down the technical side of things, making his own small games through engines; Miguel was beyond excited, to say the least.

He walked into the empty lab, scoping the classroom out for the best seat. The perks of being early.

GymRat!Miguel who is scrolling through his watch later list while he waits for class to start. Maybe he could finally watch the Let’s Plays he’s been piling up. Maybe character builds would be better.

“Hare-Hare, is that you?”

Miguel stopped, that nickname something he hadn’t heard in forever.

He turned to his right with a smile on his face, “Xina?”

“It is you!”

Miguel stood to hug her, his body rocking from the weight of her, almost knocking him over.

“It’s been so long,” she breathes out. Her hands slide down his arms. “Have you gotten even bigger?”

Miguel laughed, “Probably.”

Xina’s eyes flitted over his body and back to his face.

Miguel sat back down, “You look different, too. Is that a tattoo?”

“Y-yeah! You like it?”

It was some computer code in a spiral shape on her arm. It was really different for her. A far cry from the conservative, shy girl who left the South.

In fact, the outfit she had on was something she would never wear. It looked like something that Lyla or Tempest would throw on. No collared dresses or long socks over stockings, just low-cut skirts and flowy-sleeved tops.

“It’s pretty cool. Do your parents know you have it?”

She shuffled the sleeves of her shirt back down, “They weren’t too fond of it, but what can they do now.”

Miguel smiled softly, “Lyla told me you were coming down here. I guess I just didn’t believe it until I saw you. How have you been?”

“I’ve been pretty good. Just trying to readjust. It’s a lot different here.”

Miguel raised his eyebrow, “From China or from up north?”

“Um, from up north. It’s a lot slower.”

“Really?” Miguel watched as she picked at the mountain of bracelets on her arm. “Hopefully not too much slower. I want you to enjoy your time here.”

More people started to fill up the lab, dropping their backpacks and pecking on their phones.

Miguel rolled his chair closer to Xina, “What happened up there? Is everything ok?”

Her eyes shifted nervously, voice tight, “Lyla didn’t already tell you?”

“She can say a lot of things, but I’d rather hear it from you.”

Her shoulders dropped and whatever thoughts that were clouding her mind disappeared.

“I’ll-” the professor heads to the front of the class. “I’ll tell you one day.”

Miguel nods, dropping the subject.

GymRat!Miguel who is really excited about the future of the class after the first initial day.

The professor seemed to have a lot of knowledge involving the industry, and even if Miguel couldn’t see himself really tapping into the industry, he enjoyed the banter.

“Class seems like it’s going to be fun,” Xina says as she walks next to him, bag patting against her hip.

“That’s a sentence I’ve heard no one ever say.”

“Oh, shut up,” Xina pushes his shoulder and Miguel fakes being knocked over. “This is coming from the man who got excited about encyclopedias being available for checkout.”

“There was good stuff in there! Not my fault that others didn’t catch on.”

GymRat!Miguel who chats with Xina like old times.

She looked different, but the core of her was still there. Still the sweet, reserved girl that he remembers.

“Ah,” Xina looks down at her phone. “I gotta go. Me and my roommates are having a house meeting.”

“You got a quad suite?”

“An apartment! You should come over sometime. We’re going to have a little housewarming party soon.”

“Cool, I’ll be there. See you Thursday?”

Xina grinned wide, hands folding together in front of her, “See you Thursday.”

GymRat!Miguel whose time with you during the day was limited to lunch time. Your studios were stacked along with some general ed classes and he hated it.

“Miguel, stop pouting, I’m here now!”

“That’s until you have to go mix your paints with others and cut floorboards.”

“I’m not mixing paint with others,” you reach to wipe some salad dressing off of his lip. “I’m mixing paints with other paints. And mineral spirits. And turpenoid.”

Miguel slumped down his chair, petulant.

“Why can’t I just sit next to you and encourage you?” Call you pretty, stare at you, hold you.

“Because it’s a college course just like any other class. I just can’t just walk into your labs unannounced.”

“If it were one of my lectures, you probably could.”

You left out a soft breath through your nose, “True. Too bad my classes are three hours long, babe.”

Miguel groaned, “I should have switched my bio class to yours.”

“So you and I both could be distracted all day? Not a chance.”

“No,” Miguel held out the vowel. “I wouldn’t get distracted, I swear! We’d sit at the front of the class to ensure it.”

“And somehow, you’d still find a way to distract yourself.”

Miguel puffed and folded his arms.

“How so?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you shake your cup, seeing if you had any drink left. “Writing me messages on your notes app, spamming emojis, sending naughty pictures in the middle of class.”

“That was one time.”

“One time that my professor almost saw the hairs leading to your-”

“So what you're saying is, you don’t want my chest in your phone?”

“No! I never said that!”

Miguel smirks and you fall back into your chair with your heart pounding.

“You’re so mean, I’m going to class early.”

“Baby, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

Miguel held your hand to stop you from leaving the table, pulling you to his side.

“Let go, I’m going to class.”

“Let me walk you there at least?”

Miguel wrapped his arms around you and moved his head wherever your gaze went.

“Fine, hurry up.”

GymRat!Miguel who finished his lunch in two bites and reached for your portfolio.

GymRat!Miguel whose heart swelled as you swung his hand on the walk to class.

“I think we can still make more time for just us. There’s the weekends, your birthday, fall break, winter break, our anniversary,” you sang as you looked up at him.

“You excited?”

“To spend time with you? Always.”

Miguel felt his cheeks warm at the simple statement.

“Are you?”

“If I’m not excited to be with you, you’ll know I’m being kidnapped.”

“Stop,” you giggle.

“It’s true!”

GymRat!Miguel who lingers in the art building while you wait for class to start.

“Is there anything in particular that you wanted to do for our anniversary?”

You fan your eyes up, “Hm. I’m not picky. As long as it’s close to school. We can save the bigger trips for the future or holidays.”

So no sporadic trips across the country. He can check that off his list.

“Your face is telling me that you were thinking of something else.”

“No…”

GymRat!Miguel who after two weeks of class could definitely say that his elective was taking more brain power than his science classes combined.

It was fun, but god, he didn’t understand the point of his professor insisting that they learn C#.

“This is so stupid,” Miguel grumbled after the third failed attempt to get his program to run. “I think I’m in hell.”

“With me here? No way,” Xina snickered beside him.

“Yeah, you’re right. Still doesn’t change the fact that this is a program that is completely useless to not only me but the rest of this course.”

“It literally can’t be that bad”

“Look!”

Miguel showed Xina his code and the lack of progress that it seems like he made.

“That’s ‘cause your lines are wrong, silly.”

She leaned over him, tapping at his computer. Miguel noticed that her tattoo was on display today despite the cool chills coming in as fall approached.

“There. That should fix it.”

Miguel ran his program again and was filled with relief when it actually did what it was supposed to do.

“You’re a lifesaver.”

“Anytime,” she beamed and fanned absentmindedly. “I’m always here to help. I definitely need your guidance for quantum physics.”

“What do you need that class for?”

“My advisor suggested it, but I’m starting to regret it and I can’t afford to drop it.”

“Tell you what, you help me with coding and I’ll help you with physics. Fair trade?”

“Plenty equal to me.”

GymRat!Miguel who smells Xina’s perfume as she helps him for the third time that class.

It’s sweet and earthy. It reminds him of the time you fed him ice cream on a campus bench not too long ago.

“What is that? It smells good.”

“Really?” Xina looks over to Miguel with a smile. She leans back and twirls the black strands of her hair. “You like it?”

“Yeah, it’s nice.”

“Thank you.”

GymRat!Miguel who gets invited to Xina’s apartment-warming party.

“It’s pretty small, and I’ve only made a few friends here so far, but I would love for you to come.”

“For sure, for sure. Should I bring something?”

“No, just you and your body will suffice.”

GymRat!Miguel who laughs with Xina as they exit the class.

“I’m just saying that if you have time to make merch for your games immediately after the first patch of it does numbers, then you have enough time to improve it and make other parts faster.”

“Game developers have families to feed, ya know?” Xina states. “They can’t just sit at a screen all day, they need quick money like the rest of us.”

“So you sell plushies instead? Whatever happened to ‘hi, hello’ or ‘this is how progress is going this month.’”

“Miguel!”

He turned to where he heard his name, that voice like music to his ears.

“Bebé!”

GymRat!Miguel who runs to you and spins you around like he hasn’t seen you in years. You squeal into his neck, excited because he’s so excited.

He puts you down and stands in shock, checking his watch, “I thought you had studio right now?”

“Critique ended super early, so I wanted to surprise you!”

“So the rest of your day is free?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

Miguel would punch the air with glee if he wasn’t in public.

GymRat!Miguel who turns when you peek your head past him to see Xina standing with a small smile on her face.

He slots his hand into yours and pulls you over.

“Xina, meet my girlfriend. Bebé, meet Xina.”

You reach your right hand out, introducing yourself. Xina takes your hand with a grip like a blood pressure machine and a quick introduction.

When you take your hand back, your eyes do a double take between the two, Miguel oblivious to what just took place.

You clear your throat, “Do you guys take the same class?”

“Yep, we-”

“We go way, way back,” Xina grins. “Like trading silly bandz and Pokemon cards back.”

“Oh shit, really? So you saw Miguel in his baby days. What was he like?”

“Please don’t say anything embarrassing,” Miguel groans out.

“Yeah, tell me something good. Something juicy.”

“Hm,” Xina tapped her chin.

Miguel shook his head behind you, hands clasping together in a pleading motion.

“Miguel had a crush on me.”

That’s not what he expected Xina to say and from the raised eyebrows on your face, neither did you.

“That’s,” you rock on your feet and adjust your backpack, “definitely something.”

“Yeah! He was so cute running around handing me flowers with the roots still attached. I was too busy trying to be the best ballerina around, though. Right, Hare-Hare?”

“Right,” Miguel looked to the door. “Uh, we’ll see you around Xina.”

“Yeah, see you soon,” her fingers twinkled, chains on her nails dangling.

GymRat!Miguel who kept waiting for you to say something as you both walked to his car.

He was excited to eat dinner with you for once, but your silence was scaring him.

“What’s wrong?” He breaks, sick of his aimless thoughts.

“I don’t know, Hare-Hare, you tell me.”

“Amor, don’t be upset. It was such a long time ago.”

“That’s fine, I don’t care about that. Why would she bring it up in the first place? I don’t even know her like that.”

“I think she was just nervous, she’s not usually like that.”

“Compared to…?”

“Compared to the kind person I know her to be. Look,” Miguel reached for your hand, voice steady. “I’m sure she’ll open up to you as I’m sure you will to her, ok?”

You blew out a deep breath, “Ok.”

“Trust me?”

“I trust you.”

“Good,” he pecked your lips. “Now let’s go get pizza. I’m starving.”

GymRat!Miguel who still brought a gift to the apartment warming. It felt rude to not show up with something.

You had recommended a candle, so Miguel went and got something that smelled similar to Xina’s perfume plus a candle warmer in the shape of a flower.

He knocked on the door, a gift bag in his hand.

After a few seconds, it swung open with a guy who he didn’t have to bend down to look at.

“Woah,” he said. “You’re huge.”

“Uh, thanks? Is Xina here?”

The guy was brushed to the side to reveal a frazzled Xina.

“H-hey, Miguel! You came!” Xina clung to him, fingers clammy and breath burning through his shirt.

“Yeah, of course. Was this the wrong day?”

“No! No, no. You’re right, come on in.”

GymRat!Miguel who felt that the apartment was really nice and Xina’s roommates were a rambunctious bunch.

Although, he expected the event to be a bit more relaxed. There were people crowded together in the living room, some screaming at a game on the TV, some making their mark on the couch, others dancing out on the balcony.

Miguel was anxious to say the least.

GymRat!Miguel who was pulled into Xina’s bedroom, the stench of that sticky, sweet perfume filling his nostrils.

“Sorry about that, I didn’t know it would get this wild.”

“It’s fine,” Miguel shuffles the bag into her hands. “I just wanted to give you this, then I’ll be on my way.”

“Aw, so soon?”

“Yeah, I’ve got some stuff to catch up on.”

He wanted to get out of here.

His eyes panned around her room, the style of it matching more to her past self. White lace, lilac and soft pink bows, tiny bunny and hamster families sitting on a shelf above her desk.

A poster from a franchise that she swore she hated but he loved. Funny.

Xina dug into the bag pulling out the candle warmer, “Miguel, this is so cu-ute! It’ll be perfect on my desk.”

“I thought you would like it.”

“You do know me very well,” she pulls out the candle and holds it to her nose for cartoonishly amount of time. “This smells fucking amazing. It’s like, like the inside of an ice cream bucket. But in a jar.”

“Xina,” Miguel sits the candle down before she moves the wicks up her nose. “Are you high?”

“Only a little…un poco,” she holds her fingers in a pinch.

He pushed her hand away from his face.

“They’re not making you take anything, right?” He pointed back to the door.

“No, I wanted it to. It’s nice. You should try it sometime. Relax a little.”

Miguel watched Xina’s eyes for a moment, searching for anything, something about how she really felt. For the moment, they were only cloudy and unphased. Miguel supposes that he should be like that too.

“Maybe another time. I think I’m gonna go.”

“If you must,” she pouted and hung on to his shoulder until they reached the door.

GymRat!Miguel who finally breathed easier once he was in his car.

He wondered what to get a person to help them come down from a high easier.

GymRat!Miguel who didn’t care what Lyla had to say, the arcade was a great idea for the 1st Anniversary date.

He had it all planned out: pick you up at your dorm door, drive you out, about an hour to the closest city, spend the rest of the night exploring the city, come back to the hotel, breakfast in bed, an afternoon at an art class because you wanted to see him paint, an evening at the arcade, and a night to complete out his Mission B: Virgin No More.

It was perfect. Immaculate. Sublime.

GymRat!Miguel who took the term passenger princess more seriously than he needed to.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive?”

“Nope. Just sit there and look pretty.”

“I might fall asleep.”

“You’ll still be pretty either way.”

GymRat!Miguel who has the most fun going to random stores with you. Sure, there were some boutiques where the owners looked at you both like extra heads were sticking out of your necks, but there were also stores that were cozy and warm.

You both stayed in the nooks and crannies of stores looking at trinkets, jewelry, books, anything.

“Miguel, look!” you hold up the tiniest pair of baby shoes he’s ever seen. “How precious is that?”

“Put those down, I don’t need any new ideas.”

“You had old ones?”

GymRat!Miguel who buys a giant puzzle for you both to complete together. It’s a watercolor painting of the night sky and the bright day blending together.

It was the two of you together in one piece, he had to get it.

GymRat!Miguel who is giddy that you bought a set of matching silk pajamas for you both to wear.

He knew you were definitely going to get hot in them, but what are hotels for if not turning up the A/C and cuddling together under the thick, starchy comforters?

GymRat!Miguel who keeps staring at you through the mirror as you brush your teeth. There’s a fluffy headband keeping your hair out of your face, and you’re only wearing the top of your pajama set.

He’s no better, only rocking the pants.

“What?” you say with foamy toothpaste flooding your mouth.

“Nothing. You’re cute.”

You spit out the toothpaste, “You’re cute!”

GymRat!Miguel who holds you close as you take a bunch of mirror selfies before you both head to sleep.

GynRat!Miguel who knew this day was starting off right when you came out of the bathroom with your stomach showing. The shirt is like a blessing, mesmerizing in multiple areas, hugging your skin tight but loose enough for him to stick his hands under it.

“Amor, I don’t know if you know this, but,” Miguel pulls you in between his legs. “We’re supposed to actually make it out of the hotel room today.”

“And we will,” your eyes sparkled. “So until we get back, be good.”

Miguel groaned and peppered searing kisses across your skin, hands hot on the pocket of skin he could see, squeezing and gripping.

“Do I get a reward?”

You lean and whisper in his ear, breath tickling his skin, “A really, really hot one.”

Miguel's eyes are opened wider when you stand back, neck burning.

“You’re killing me.”

GymRat!Miguel who really sucks at painting.

“I don’t understand what I’m doing wrong.”

“Well, to start off, your brush isn’t even clean.”

You guide his hand to his water cup with a giggle, “None of your colors are going to show up if you keep dipping them willy-nilly.”

“Ok, but how come your hearts are so much better than mine? We both followed the teacher.”

Your eyes looked from your uniformed artwork, colors tangling together intricately and shapes flowy to Miguel’s canvas that had dripping paint, a bad mix of oversaturation, and wobbly shapes.

“You know, I’m not completely sure how you managed that, babe. What matters is that you did it with love,” you say noticing both of your initials in one of the best hearts on the page.

“Maybe you’ll be better at pottery? Mosaic?”

“I think you just enjoy laughing at my expense.”

GymRat!Miguel who rolled the sleeves of his sweater up when it was time to play arcade games.

He had to look good, show off, and earn prizes.

You watched with heavy eyes as he geared up to play the boxing game.

He made the boyfriend outfit look even more yummy, with his button-down peeking from under his blue sweater to match your outfit and his big jeans hugging his waist.

With a heavy swing, the machine seemed like it lifted off the ground with the force he gave it. His face was so serious as he waited for the score and you were inching closer to insanity.

The machine faltered, red dashes dancing across the screen.

“Did you break it?”

“Uh. I hope not.”

After what felt like a moment in which you both probably should have run away or called a worker, the machine blinks back to life.

“No way.”

A max score of 999 stared back at you both and the card machine lit up with rainbow colors.

You held his hand in yours, looking at his knuckles for any bruises or blemishes. When you stared up at Miguel incredulously, he had a goofy smile on his face.

GymRat!Miguel who may have been more competitive than he needed to be.

You yelled as his score kept inching away from yours on the basketball arcade game.

“You’re, like, as tall as the machine! You’re cheating!”

“It has nothing to do with height, chiquita.”

You groan out a sound of frustration as you miss your shots, messing up your streak.

The timer goes out, Miguel winning by a landslide.

You push your head back as Miguel celebrates.

GymRat!Miguel who keeps this song-and-dance up for the rest of the night. Sometimes you would win, sometimes he would win.

His final strike was when you both were in one of those FPS games that required you both to be crammed inside of a dark box.

“Miguel, stop taking my fucking shots!”

“Oo, she’s getting feisty with me now.”

You thought quickly and leaned over. With an eye on the screen and the intention to rile him up, you moan his name right in his ear, breath needy and warm. You lick at his jaw to seal the deal and turn back.

Like paper, Miguel folds, and his aim becomes absolutely terrible.

“W-why would you do that?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to feel that bad as “Player 1: Bunny WINS” and “Player 2: Bear LOSES” jumped across the screen.

You kiss Miguel on his cheek as he readjusts his pants with a frown on his face.

GymRat!Miguel who could hear his heartbeat in his ears on the elevator ride back up to the room.

You were holding onto the giant plushie he gave blood, sweat, and tears to earn, saying that it reminded you of him.

Miguel, on the other hand, was digging his nails into his palm and opening the collar of his sweater sporadically.

“You alright?” you say, placing a hand on his elbow.

“I might pass out.”

“Miguel,” you hold him close as you both walk to the door. “You gotta calm down.”

“I am! I’m just nervous.”

“You’re shaking.”

Miguel’s hands tremored as he ran the key card over the censor.

GymRat!Miguel who let you hold his hands as you kissed over his wrists.

He was so dear to you. His presence, like a beautiful spark.

“You’re so sweet.” A kiss to his palm. “The sweetest there is. I adore you.”

Miguel took a shuddered breath as he watched you, heart rushing to his ears.

GymRat!Miguel who is more calm when you both start to remove your clothes. It wasn’t steamy and desperate like he imagined. It was slow, intimate, and quiet.

It was like seeing you all over again for the first time when he helped you take off your shirt. It was like stepping into new territory when you held his jeans so he could step out of them. You both took turns taking off an article of clothing, savoring the moment.

Miguel fumbled a bit when he was met with you the clasps of your bra, fingers knocking against each other.

When the time comes, after what was an hour or so of touching, feeling, and existing within each other, your hands fumble with the condom.

Miguel feels out of his body as you slide it down with care, hands moving as if you were molding clay.

It wasn’t until he was on top of you that he felt that this was really happening. The foreplay between you a spot of comfort and habit.

After so long, he finally slid in deep, the pit of his stomach quivering. You were so unbearably tight.

“Y-you ok?” Miguel squeezed onto your hand, watching your eyebrows knit together.

“Yeah, it’s just,” you chuckle, breath almost gone from the feeling of him. “You’re really big.”

Miguel’s face shifted from worried to shocked.

“Oh! Well, I guess that’s a good thing?”

“You don’t have to guess, I can feel it.”

Miguel twitched and jolted involuntarily, causing you to whimper, your words going straight south.

“Miguel! Stop moving.”

“Sorry! You’re really tight right now and I’m trying to focus.”

“God,” you sigh and let your head drop to your pillow. “Are we even doing this right?”

“No clue.”

Miguel kissed your collarbone as you wrapped your arms under his. He continued to kiss across your shoulders, lips light and airy. Up your neck to your jaw, he could feel you relax and breathe a little easier.

He grazes his mouth to your cheeks, humming as you move them closer to his lips. He kisses your temple, your eyebrows, your forehead. At your nose, you start to giggle, Miguel’s kisses leaving flutters on your skin.

Miguel joins in on your joy, grinning as you try to return the pecks.

“Ok,” you whisper. “I think I’m ready. You can move now.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. I want you to make me feel good. I want you to feel good.”

Miguel looked at your eyes, waiting, wanting, open. He couldn’t help but to think how lucky he was to have a girl like you who was just so beautiful and lovely.

His body is pressed against yours, the plush of your chest molding onto his. Your legs were wrapped around his thighs and your fingers danced across his back.

He takes a hand to hold the side of your face while the other one is pressing you even closer to him. He moves out as best as he can, the warmth of you an addicting feeling, and slides back in slowly, a shallow thrust to start off.

Your breath was hot against his mouth as you shuddered. Miguel groaned, feeling the heat of you through the thin condom.

He moved again, watching as your face twisted and turned. Your hands are pressed against his back, palms applying pressure until the feeling stretches to your fingertips. The pricks of your nails dig softly into Miguel’s skin, muscles moving as he tucks your hair away from your face.

By the third thrust, Miguel is moaning out, overwhelmed with you everywhere. When he breathes, you breathe. When he tightens his hand on your back, you tighten yours. When the feeling of you becomes too much to bear, you’re right there with him, eyes heavy and wet.

Everything was heightened, from the sound of the bed squeaking as Miguel’s hips moved, to the little sounds you made when he inched in deeper. He’s scared he might shout in your face due to how good you feel so he presses against your lips, grunts coming out with each thrust.

You take him with stride, hands balling up to fists as he gets deeper and deeper.

His name from your lips is broken down from two syllables to four, enunciation clear enough for Miguel to know that he’s doing something right.

“Don’t stop,” you plead, gaze reaching Miguel’s soul. “Please.”

“I won’t.” He would never leave if he had the choice. “Am I, shit, am I doing good? Do you feel alright?”

He shifts back to see your face and his heart speeds up watching you under him. Your arms fall to the bed and your mouth stutters open as Miguel continues.

Your eyes drip as you let out staccato moans and Miguel leans down to kiss away your tears.

“C’mon, bebé, let me know.”

You nod your head and cry out when Miguel goes even deeper. He hums against your mouth as a thank you.

“Miggy, I,” you stop as you take a breath.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

A rush of heat from top to bottom filled Miguel’s core. The air left his lungs swiftly and came back in twice as fast. His back shook, nerves like a spring. All he could hear was your breaths, all he could smell was your warm skin, all he could taste was the lingering touch of your tongue, all could feel was the hot valley of you, all he could see was you.

He dies and comes back to life, sight piecing together that the stars and hearts were not part of you but they were just his muddled brain taking you in like the first day he met you. His throat burns like he swallowed hot coal.

Your mouth is moving but he still can’t connect the words yet. He feels himself floating away.

“Baby?” the way that your hands grip his body ground him. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” Miguel nods, eyes blinking fast. “What just happened.”

“I think you came?”

Miguel looked down, and sure enough, you were right.

He doesn’t remember you getting any relief.

“Can I-” he groans as you clamp down on him when tries to pull out. “Can we do that again?”

You nod your head, “Please.”

GymRat!Miguel who, after a brand new condom and a clearer mind, realizes that he has a lot of work to do.

He knew that you were his everything, but he couldn’t deny that he was a little embarrassed. You swore to him that it was ok, flattering even, but Miguel isn’t buying it.

Your legs were bent at his sides as he lifted your hips off the mattress. He held them up as he stroked deep and focused on the sound of your breaths.

“B-baby,” your voice is stunted as Miguel keeps a steady tempo. “Look at me”

Miguel groans into your neck, shuddering from the sound of your voice and your hands rubbing his sides. Your moans were high in your throat, breaking as Miguel’s hands pushed and pulled at your skin.

“I can’t.”

“Why,” your words fizzle as Miguel hits a sweet spot. “Why not?”

“If I look at you, I’m gonna cum.”

Miguel goes faster as he feels you constrict against him. The bed creaks as the sound of him delving into you gets louder and louder.

“Oh,” your nails scratch his back. Miguel matches your voice, desperate to please you.

You open your mouth again, a three-letter phrase ghosting your tongue.

“D-don’t,” Miguel’s hips freeze and unfreeze as he hears the first vowel leave your mouth.

“I wanna see you.”

Miguel shifts, eyes finding yours, and he knows he won’t make it.

He tells you just as much and you pull him closer.

“Te amo, mi luna.”

Miguel cries as he feels the air leaving him. He reaches down to touch you, your body jolting when his fingers graze your clit.

You cum around him and he pushed through, waiting until you were shaking to let go.

“You,” Miguel leans his forehead on yours. Both of you are shaking, blood pumping with adrenaline. “Play so unfair.”

“But you love me?”

He cuddles into your thumbs wiping at his eyes, “So much. I love you so, so much.”

You kiss him, feeling warm and satisfied, sighing as he melts on top of you. You run your fingers through his wild hair and scratch at his name.

After a while, Miguel perks up, eyes sparkly and big like a little puppy.

“A-again.”

“What?”

GymRat!Miguel who pulls you to the edge of the bed by your legs. You yelp at his strength and the icy pricks of the hotel A/C coating your overheating skin.

Miguel slides back in with a practiced ease, the angle different, but not unfamiliar.

He held your legs and hips from the bed, watching as your body moved from the faster momentum he produced.

Your voice reaches the ceiling as your hands grip for anything. Seeing your reaction, Miguel grips your hips and your stomach, angling even deeper. It was fulfilling until your hands landed on your chest, stopping them from jerking so.

Miguel pulled your wrists together and down, watching as your arms framed your chest. He moans out your name, eyes stuck on the picture presented before him.

How could anyone ever believe you were not beautiful?

GymRat!Miguel who can’t help but to ask for one more round. In your disheveled state, you tell him it’s the last one.

The sounds leaving your bodies were enough to make the bed blush. It was something so perfect about the whispers you mewled into each other's skin contrasting the wet sound of Miguel slapping into your wet entrance.

Somehow you were nearly bent in half, knees almost next to your ears, as Miguel’s feet were planted on the bed. You didn’t even know your body could do that.

At every smack of skin, Miguel was moaning your name louder and louder, mind completely gone.

“I’m, ngh, gonna cum!” Your voice comes out at a volume that matches his.

Miguel nods, encouraging you to release, kissing along your skin.

You shout as he swerves his hips, melting your cour as he slides along your sweet spots.

“So good,” Miguel says, balls twitching against you as crumbles to the bed. “So amazing. Mi luz, mi sol.”

The two of you catch your breath in the dim hotel lighting, jolting with aftershocks of your anniversary.

GymRat!Miguel who held you on his chest as you slept, lips pressed against the top of your head. He checked his phone before going to sleep, wanting to set a timer for the morning.

A Game Exchange’s Worst Nightmare

Miggy Mig MC: I did it

Winner-Winner: ???

Ly(ability)la: Only you would announce losing your virginity like that

Tempie: omg

You’re not a baby anymore 🥺

What am I gonna do

Winner-Winner: WAIT

LESGOOOO

Tempie: I never thought this day would come

Winner-Winner: you was tearing it up wasn’t you? 🤪

Ly(ability)la: you’re so annoying

Tempie: like I didn’t prepare fast enough

I WASNT READY

Winner-Winner: I hope you did that trick I taught you

It gets em every time

Guaranteed banger

Tempie: This actually ruined my night

Ly(ability)la: Temp is losing it and so is Wins

Congrats to you ig

Winner-Winner: I bet she’s KNOCKED OUUOOT

Ly(ability)la: is being normal like not in your cards or…

Tempie: I think I’m sick

Miggy Mig MC: .....

Gabri 🤏🏽🤡:

“I did it”

“No fucking way"

"NO FUCKING WAY"

"AND? AND SO?"

“It was just as good as you say. That’s all I’m saying.”

"I feel like I need to throw something on the grill"

“Not too much Gabri”

GymRat!Miguel who wrapped his arms around you as you fixed up something the next morning.

“G’morning,” you say to a heavy Miguel leaning down on you.

“Super good morning,” his hands reach to cup your left breast and your stomach under your robe. He left a long kiss on your shoulder. “Whatcha doing?”

“‘M getting your gift together.”

“Another one?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Well, let me step up my game.’

GymRat!Miguel who sits with you on the bed as you both trade gifts.

“Aw, Miguel! How am I supposed to eat these? You look so cute here,” you took a piece of candy in your hand and looked his face planted on it.

“Like this,” Miguel takes your hand and guides the candy to his mouth.

You smile watching him, body warm.

GymRat!Miguel who watches your eyes glow when you see the dolphin charm with the date that you two took our first date.

“Put it on me?”

Miguel slid the jewelry over your skin, watching as gold danced against your skin.

GymRat!Miguel who feels like crying when flipped through the scrapbook you made. Each section matched a song in the playlist you made for him.

It was so thoroughly crafted and thought out that Miguel couldn’t stop the waterworks.

“Why did I think that outfit was cool?” Miguel laughed wetly as he saw a picture of you both at a pumpkin patch.

“You look adorable,” you catch his tear on your thumb and hug his side.

GymRat!Miguel who drops you off at your dorm with kiss after kiss to your lips.

Jess opens the door with a dramatic sigh, “The two of you are glowing. How cute.”

GymRat!Miguel who reaches back to his night with you every time he’s sick of the class he’s in.

A little bit dangerous when it comes to his labs, but everything is reminding him of you. He can’t even look at his blanket without thinking about the way your shirt draped your body.

Maybe he should make love to you with it next time.

GymRat!Miguel who is in a daze during his programming lab.

“Earth to Miguel. Did you finish the mini code?”

“Uh, yeah,” Miguel replied to Xina.

“Good, because I need you to check this equation really quick. I need to turn it in later this week.”

Miguel leaned over to Xina’s laptop, arm reaching across her.

“So,” she slides her nails up his arm. “What do you think?”

“It’s fine. This part is very wrong, though.”

She squeezes at his muscle, chest pressing on him.

“Are you cold or something?”

“No, why do you ask?”

“Because,” Miguel slides her laptop in front of him. “You’re really touchy today.”

“Miguel, I’m always touchy.”

She puts an arm on the back of her rolling chair and leans on her wrist.

“True.”

“Is there a problem with friendly touches?”

“No, Xina. I’m not like that.”

“Ok,” she holds her hands up in defense. “I’m just trying to understand.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That,” Miguel says turning to her, “Being weird. Overstepping.”

Xina folds her arms and nods her head, “I got it.”

GymRat!Miguel whose time with you dwindles within the next couple of weeks. If it’s not studying, it’s the robotics team. If it’s not the robotics team, it’s his class schedule never matching yours. If it’s not your studios, it’s his study sessions with Xina.

Currently, she was sitting beside him on the first floor of the library, head on his shoulder as she sighed over a new formula.

“This is so gross,” she said, wiping away eraser shavings.

“Did you even try?”

“Like, once. That was enough.”

GymRat!Miguel who gets your text and looks up to where he knew you’d come from. He felt like he could feel you close, but the entrance was so far away he couldn’t see.

He got up for a second, turning and standing tall to catch a glimpse.

“I know you’re not about to give up this. You said it was easy! That’s not the Miguel I know,” Xina grabbed his wrist, hands unbearably hot.

His phone buzzed again. You said you were going back to your studio.

He sighed and sat back down, mind foggy.

divider by: @thecutestgrotto + @adornedwithlight 🩵

a/n: Y'all know that gif with the smoking duck? I feel like that but I would replace the cigarette with an Icee or something.

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redroomreflections · 4 months

Text

Not Easily Broken Part 7

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha and Reader go through a tragic divorce

Masterlist | General Masterlist

7/10

Note: Old friends I bet you never saw this day coming.

W/c:3.95

Rating: M (Minors DNI; angst, fluff, smut, heartbreak, heart fix? the best ending for them coming soon)Keep reading

As you pull into the driveway of your home, you give two quick honks before shifting the car into park. Anticipation bubbles inside you as you look forward to taking Ryan to his baseball practice. Undoing your seat belt, you glance at your watch to check the time, only to realize you're running late. A sigh escapes your lips, accompanied by a roll of your eyes at your oversight. Just as you're about to step out of the car, the front door swings open, drawing your attention away from your tardiness.

Ryan bounds down the steps, his red and white Raptors uniform proudly displaying his school's name. His baseball bag hangs heavily from his back as he rushes towards you. With a burst of energy, he throws himself into your arms, squeezing your midsection tightly and burying his head against your belly.

"Hi Mommy, I'm so excited you're here," he mumbles into you, his voice muffled by your shirt.

"Hi, baby, I'm thrilled to be here too," You reply, wrapping your arms around him and ruffling the curls on his head. "You need a haircut," you tease gently as you glance down at his tousled hair.

"Never," he declares with a shake of his head, a playful glint in his eyes.

“There’s no convincing him, I’ve tried,” Natasha says as she steps onto the front porch, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. You look up to acknowledge her, only to do a double take. Natasha looks incredible. She's sporting a fitted white tee that accentuates her toned figure, paired with denim shorts that hug her curves perfectly. Sunglasses perch on top of her head, and a pair of Converse shoes complete the effortlessly chic ensemble. It's not just about the outfit itself, but how she wears it with confidence.

“Is that what you wear to Little League?” you ask, tilting your head as you take in her casual yet stylish attire.

Natasha chuckles softly, a playful glint dancing in her eyes. “Well, I figured I’d give the other parents something to talk about,” she replies with a smirk.

“Interesting,” You smile back.

“Mommy, do you like my outfit?” Emma asks proudly as she stands beside Natasha. She's wearing a tart orange top paired with biker shorts, and her feet are adorned with the sparkliest shoes you've ever seen.

You glance over at Emma, a smile spreading across your face at her vibrant ensemble. "Wow, Emma, you look amazing!" you exclaim, genuinely impressed by her bold fashion choice. "Those shoes are dazzling."

Natasha beams with pride at Emma's excitement. "You look fantastic, sweetheart," she adds, reaching out to tousle Emma's hair affectionately.

Emma happily bounces down the steps one by one, her infectious giggles filling the air. Natasha's heart skips a beat as she watches her, a mini heart attack looming with each skipped step, especially when Emma forgoes holding onto the railing altogether.

You, still holding onto Ryan, quickly adjust, freeing one of your arms to reach out and steady Emma as she descends. With a reassuring smile, you wrap your arm around her, providing the support she needs to navigate the steps safely. Natasha breathes a sigh of relief as she sees you taking care of Emma, her worry dissipating as she watches the scene unfold.

“Okay, let’s all make it to the practice in one piece,” You remind Emma as she smiles up at you. “Do you have everything?” You ask Ryan and he nods.

“Yep, all set,” He pats his backpack.

“Mommy, are we going to get pizza after this game?” Emma questions eagerly. “My tummy has been rumbling for like an hour now. I think we have to get food.”

You chuckle at Emma's enthusiasm, nodding in agreement. "Pizza sounds like a great idea, sweetheart," you reply, glancing over at Natasha for confirmation.

Natasha smiles warmly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Pizza it is," she confirms. "But first, let's cheer on Ryan at his practice and game, okay?"

Emma nods eagerly, her excitement evident as she bounces on the balls of her feet. "Okay, Mommy! Go, Ryan!" she cheers, already looking forward to the post-game pizza feast.

“Race to the car?” Ryan suggests, and Emma takes off before she even agrees to it.

You watch the two of them run towards your car, their laughter filling the air as they argue over who gets the front seat before you let out a soft sigh.

“Does the bickering ever stop?” you mumble more to yourself than anyone else.

“I don’t think it does,” Natasha laughs, joining you by your side. She wraps her arms around your body, pulling you close. Despite the recent tension with Yelena, you had hoped things wouldn’t change between the two of you."Hey you," She greets, her voice filled with warmth and affection as she looks into your eyes.

You turn to face Natasha, a small smile playing on your lips as you meet her gaze. Despite the lingering worries, being in her embrace brings a sense of comfort and reassurance.

"Hey back," you reply softly, leaning into her touch. "I'm glad you're here." You lean in for a quick kiss, savoring the taste of cherry lip gloss on her lips. “Ready to go?”

“I am,” Natasha nods. “Though earlier Ryan told me that he wished it was just the two of you going.”

“He did?” You glance over to the kids who are now both seated in the backseat.

“Mhmm,” Natasha hums. “It might be for the better.”

You ponder her words for a moment, considering Ryan's perspective. "Maybe he just wants some one-on-one time," you muse, glancing back at the kids with a thoughtful expression. "We can make that happen sometime soon." The idea of spending quality time with Ryan fills you with warmth, knowing that nurturing your bond with him is just as important as maintaining your relationship with Natasha.

"Come on, Mommy, I'm going to be late!" Ryan calls out, rolling down his window to get your attention.

You smile at his urgency, realizing that you've been caught up in the moment. "I'm coming, Ryan!" you call back, giving Natasha a quick squeeze before making your way to the driver's seat. As you start the car, you can't help but feel grateful for these little moments with your family, cherishing the bonds that hold you all together. You’re so glad you get to experience this again.

*****************

You stand along the fence, the sweltering heat causing you to fan yourself off as you watch the game unfold in front of you. Somewhere behind you, Natasha sits with Emma, sharing popcorn and a few cold water bottles between them. Despite the discomfort of the heat, your eyes remain fixed on the field, eagerly awaiting Ryan's turn to bat. Each pitch and play holds your attention, anticipation building with each moment as you wait for the perfect opportunity to cheer on your son.

“Did we miss anything?” Kerry Cook asks as she settles into her spot next to Natasha. Her husband, Doug, follows behind, carrying their eight-month-old in a carrier on his body.

“No, not yet. It’s been slow,” Natasha replies, briefly tearing her gaze away from the field to acknowledge Kerry and Doug. Despite the conversation, her attention remains fixed on the game, her anticipation growing as she realizes Ryan will be up to bat soon.

“Good, Miles had a case of anxiety that we had to get together,” Kerry informs her, settling into her seat beside Natasha. “Is that y/n?” Kerry spots you only a few feet away.

“In the flesh,” Natasha nods, her attention still partly focused on the game.

“Wow, it’s been a while,” Kerry continues, observing you. “She looks toned.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” Natasha replies nonchalantly, though her tone suggests otherwise.

“I’m sure,” Kerry responds, not sounding entirely convinced by Natasha's casual response. “It’s nice seeing her here. Well, even seeing you two in the same place is a miracle.”

Natasha offers a small smile, sensing Kerry's curiosity lingering beneath the surface. "Yeah, we've been trying some things out," she says casually, subtly hinting at the efforts she and you have been making to reconcile and mend your relationship. Despite her attempt to keep it low-key, there's a hint of pride in her voice, a quiet acknowledgment of the progress you two have been making together.

"Congratulations," Kerry almost beams with pride, her genuine happiness for you shining through. If there was one person on your team rooting for you, it was her.

Natasha enjoys Kerry and Doug’s company as they continue to watch the game. Occasionally, Emma will reach into the popcorn container to pop a few kernels into her mouth, and Natasha leans over for easier access. She could see you out of the corner of her eye, so engrossed in Ryan and his plays on the field. She'd missed this more than she could convey.

But as Ryan makes a good play that has them all cheering, Natasha's attention snaps back to the game. Ryan steps up to the plate, his determination is evident in the set of his shoulders, the pitcher winds up and delivers the ball with all his might. Ryan swings, the crack of the bat echoing across the field as the ball sails through the air.

It's not a perfect hit, but it's a solid one. The ball bounces just beyond the infield, rolling towards the outfield as Ryan takes off running. The fielders scramble to retrieve it, but Ryan's speed is impressive for his age. He rounds first base with determination, his eyes fixed on second as he picks up speed.

The outfielder scoops up the ball and throws it toward second base, but Ryan is already there, sliding into the base with a burst of energy. The umpire's call is clear: safe!

Cheers erupt from the sidelines as Ryan jumps to his feet, a triumphant grin on his face. His eyes scan the bleachers to find you standing directly in front of him. You offer a thumbs up to which he reciprocates. Gosh, you love that kid.

“Which one is yours?” A soft voice interrupts your focus on the game, drawing your attention to the woman beside you. She exudes a soccer mom vibe, with a warm smile and an air of familiarity that instantly puts you at ease. Her features resemble those of Gina Davis—sharp cheekbones framing a heart-shaped face, with expressive hazel eyes that seem to shimmer with genuine interest. Her hair is styled in a casual yet chic bob, framing her face in loose waves that bounce with every movement.

Despite her friendly demeanor, there's something about her proximity to you that sets off a faint alarm in your mind. She stands a little too close for comfort, her body language subtly leaning towards you in a way that feels almost intrusive. It's enough to make Natasha, who's been watching discreetly from a distance, take notice.

You gesture towards Ryan. “The kid with the reddish curly hair who's currently goofing off with Miles”

"Oh, yeah, Ryan, he's pretty good," the woman compliments, her gaze shifting towards him with a nod of approval. “He’s cute. Clearly takes after you.”

“I don’t know about that,” You blush slightly. When she turns her attention back to you, you inquire about her own child. "You?"

"Oh, my son is Teddy over there with the buzz cut," she replies, pointing towards a boy on the field.

“He’s solid,” You nod.

"I'd like to think so," she shrugs casually. "I'm Vera. What's your name?"

"Y/n," you reply, shaking her hand.

"Oh, you're the ex," Vera whistles, her tone carrying a hint of surprise.

“That would be me,” You tip your hat and offer a smile. “Has there been a lot of talk?”

Vera chuckles lightly, a knowing glint in her eye. "Oh, you know how it is," she replies vaguely, her tone suggesting that she's privy to some of the gossip but doesn't feel the need to delve into details.

"Unfortunately I do," you say with a rueful smile, acknowledging the sometimes intrusive nature of parents nearby.

Vera, ever the conversationalist, leans in a bit closer, a curious glint in her eyes. "So, how have you been holding up?" she asks, her tone filled with genuine interest as she tries to strike up a conversation. “Divorce can’t be easy. Trust me I’d know.”

You offer a small, appreciative nod, grateful for Vera's attempt to connect. "It's been... challenging," you admit, your voice softening with a hint of vulnerability. "But I'm taking it one day at a time." Despite the difficulties, you find solace in the genuine concern of those around you, including Vera's compassionate gesture.

“Well, if you ever need a shoulder to lean on or an ear to listen,” Vera offers, extending a comforting gesture.

“She won’t,” Natasha interrupts, her voice firm and protective, asserting her presence in the conversation.

Vera's expression falters momentarily at Natasha's interruption, her offer of support met with an unexpected rebuttal. She glances between you and Natasha, sensing an underlying tension in the exchange.

Undeterred, Vera quickly recovers with a gentle smile. "Of course," she replies diplomatically. “Well, nice meeting you.” Vera excuses herself to go sit on the other side of the bleachers.

“You sure scared her,” You chuckled, breaking the tension with a light-hearted comment.

“Wasn’t my intention,” Natasha smirks, her expression softening as she meets your gaze. “He’s so happy you’re here,” she adds, tilting her chin towards Ryan, who keeps glancing over to you, almost as if to check that you’re still here. There's a fondness in Natasha's voice as she observes Ryan's behavior, a silent acknowledgment of the bond between mother and child.

“I’m happy to be here,” You wrap your arm around her waist to pull her closer to you. “We can throw some balls before bed and talk. How’s he been doing? With his anger and everything?”

Natasha leans into your embrace, appreciating the comfort of your touch. "He's been better," she admits. "We've been working on it, but it's been a struggle. He's still adjusting, I think."

There's a hint of vulnerability in her tone as she opens up about the challenges of parenting. Ryan especially in the past months has regressed and resorted to anger in the form of violence, mostly toward Natasha. She had reluctantly admitted this after you caught the tail end of her scolding when he’d thrown a video game remote at her head. You offer her a reassuring squeeze, silently conveying your support.

“I feel guilty,” You admit. “I know this isn’t the place for us to get into it but… I do.” You take a deep breath. “I’ve left you all in the dark about everything. It hasn’t been fair to them.”

Natasha listens quietly, her expression softening as she hears your admission. She reaches out to gently cup your cheek, offering a reassuring touch. "I understand," she says softly, her voice laced with empathy. "It's been tough for all of us." She doesn't excuse your actions, but she also doesn't want to make you feel guiltier.

It’s Ryan’s turn again. Time to pay attention.

*******************

Chuck E Cheese’s was a great place to go after a baseball game, especially for kids like Ryan and Emma who were bursting with energy after spending hours on the field. As you walked through the doors, the lively sounds of arcade games and children's laughter filled the air, causing you to instantly become overstimulated.

Ryan's eyes widened with excitement as he caught sight of the colorful carousel and the flashing lights of the arcade games. Emma's face lit up as she spotted the towering play structure, complete with slides, tunnels, and ball pits.

You led the way to a table, the scent of freshly baked pizza wafting through the air and making your stomach growl in anticipation. The kids eagerly clamored around the table, their chatter filling the space as they debated which games to play first and which prizes to aim for.

As the kids dashed off to explore the arcade, you and Natasha settled into a booth, enjoying a moment of relative calm amidst the bustling atmosphere of Chuck E Cheese’s. You'd paid for 100 coins each, not much all things considered, but worth it for a fun time on a school night.

Sitting across from Natasha, you appreciated the chance to have a conversation without interruptions, even if it was just for a little while. The occasional shriek or burst of laughter from the arcade area served as background noise, a reminder of the chaos surrounding you.

“So, have you given any thought to the couple’s assignment thing?” You asked, breaking the brief lull in conversation. “Something for us to do together that doesn’t involve a bedroom.”

Natasha leaned back against the booth, her gaze thoughtful as she considered your question. "I have," she replied, a faint smile playing at the corners of her lips. "I was thinking maybe we could try cooking together. We used to enjoy trying out new recipes, remember?"

The memory brought warmth to your heart, a reminder of simpler times when it was just the two of you, experimenting in the kitchen and sharing meals. "That sounds perfect," you agree, returning her smile. "It'll be nice to spend some quality time together."

It was a date.

"I remember those times in the kitchen," You began, your voice soft with emotion. "They were some of the best moments we shared."

“That kitchen has seen a lot,” Natasha nods, grabbing a slice of pizza to bite into.

“It has certainly seen better days,” You agree. “I’m really glad you didn’t sell the house.”

Natasha's expression softens at your words. "Me too," she murmurs, setting down her slice of pizza to give you her full attention. "It wouldn't have felt right, you know? Selling the house felt like giving up on everything we built together."

You nod in agreement, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Yeah, I know what you mean. Despite all the challenges we've faced, this place still feels like home."

"It always will," Natasha replies, her voice filled with conviction. “There’s something else on the assignment list that would be cool. Do you want to discuss it now?”

“Here?” You look around.

“Sure, why not,” Natasha shrugs. “It’s a simple question. What is something you’re glad you’ll never have to do again?”

“Hmm, probably childbirth,” You answer honestly. You wipe your mouth with the corner of a napkin before setting it aside.

Natasha's brows furrow slightly in confusion at your response. "Childbirth? Really?" she asks, her tone laced with curiosity. "I mean, I know it's not a walk in the park, but I thought you handled it like a champ. You never really talked about it being that bad."

You hesitate for a moment, your gaze drifting away from Natasha's as you search for the right words. "Yeah, well, I guess I just... tried to focus on the positive aspects," you reply vaguely, a faint hint of discomfort creeping into your voice. "But, um, the aftermath wasn't exactly a walk in the park either."

Natasha's expression softens with concern as she picks up on your hesitation. "What do you mean?" she prompts gently, reaching across the table to place her hand over yours. "Is everything okay?"

You take a deep breath, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders as you prepare to share something you've kept buried for far too long. "I... I think I had postpartum depression," you admit your voice barely above a whisper. "It's just... something I never really talked about."

Natasha's eyes widen slightly in surprise, her hand squeezing yours reassuringly. "I had no idea," she murmurs, her voice filled with empathy.

“Yeah, I hid it well I guess,” You frown. “You were away on a mission when it got really bad. I had to take Ryan to the compound. I left him there for a few days. He just wouldn’t stop crying and I just needed time and…”

Natasha's expression softens further as she listens, her heart breaking at the thought of you struggling alone with Ryan. "I'm so sorry," she says, her voice filled with genuine remorse. "I wish I had been there for you."

You shake your head, offering her a small, reassuring smile. "It's not your fault," you reply, your voice tinged with sadness. "I didn't want to burden you with it, especially when you were away on a mission. I thought I could handle it on my own."

"You never have to handle things alone, y/n," she says softly, her eyes locked on yours.

“Somehow I keep forgetting that,” You shrug.

Natasha doesn’t want to ask the next question. She’s almost afraid of the answer you’re going to give. “So what were the positives for you? In therapy, you mentioned that things got rougher when we had kids. I understand PPD can exacerbate that.”

You pause, contemplating Natasha's question for a moment before answering. "Honestly," you begin, your voice low and hesitant, "for a long time, I couldn't see any positives. It felt like everything was just... too much. The sleepless nights, the constant crying, the feeling of being overwhelmed... I couldn't see past it."

Natasha's hand finds yours across the table, offering silent support as you continue. "But... therapy helped," you admit, a flicker of hope in your eyes. "Talking about it, understanding it... It helped me realize that there were moments of joy. Like... the first time Ryan smiled, or when Emma said her first word. Little things that reminded me why I wanted to be a parent in the first place."

You glance up at Natasha, searching her eyes for understanding. "It's still hard," you confess, your voice raw with emotion. "But I'm learning to find the positives, even on the toughest days."

“Thank you for telling me this,” Natasha says.

“I would have preferred us to talk about it over dinner but I guess Chuck E. Cheese’s was as good as any,” You try to lighten the mood. “Honestly, I didn’t think you would take this information so lightly. I know you have this view of pregnancy and everything and back then I didn’t want to change that for you.”

Natasha listens intently, her expression softening as you speak. "I'm sorry," she says sincerely."I never realized you were going through all of that alone. I wish you had felt comfortable talking to me about it."

You give her a small smile, appreciating her understanding. "It's okay," you reassure her. "I didn't even fully understand it myself at the time. But I'm glad we're talking about it now."

Natasha nods, her eyes reflecting a mixture of regret and gratitude. "Me too," she agrees softly.

“But you never answered the question yourself,” You pointed out. Natasha raises a brow. “What’s something you’re glad you never have to do again?”

Natasha's expression turns thoughtful as she considers your question. After a moment of contemplation, she speaks, her voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability. "I think," she begins slowly, "I'm glad we never have to go back to feeling distant from each other. Those times when we were both struggling individually and couldn't find our way back to each other... I'm glad that's behind us now. I never want to feel that kind of disconnection again."

You nod in understanding, feeling a sense of relief at her honesty. "Me neither," you admit. "I think we've both learned a lot from those moments, and we're stronger because of it."

Natasha smiles softly, her eyes meeting yours with warmth. "Absolutely," she agrees.

This time you truly believed it.

---> next part

#natasha romanoff #black reader #natasha x reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanov #black widow x female reader #natasha x you #natsxaddiction #natasha romanoff smut

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aretis · 3 months

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Casual chic !

#lifestyle #myuploads #aesthetic #elegant #casual chic #chick street style #Stripes west #jeans #louis vuitton #bag

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dress-this-way · 11 months

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You never leave home without it ... so make it count! | So Susie

#bags #tote bags #Dior #cute outfits #street style #casual chic #jeans

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carleybenazzi-blog-blog · 3 months

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gigi by carley benazzi Via Flickr: Blog Instagram Primfeed Merch X Blonds Dog mom bag - @Dreamday Dernier - Gigi dress

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ofchanelandcoffee93 · 2 years

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#luxury fashion #fashion inspo #designer fashion #fashion #outfit ideas #casual outfits #ootdinspiration #chic outfit #stylish #luxurious lifestyle #louisvuitton #louis vuitton #louis vuittion bags #vintage purse #luxury purse #designer purse #purses

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uniquexusposts · 4 months

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hi!! would you consider writing a part 2 of the james beaufort one shot that you wrote? absolutely loved it!!

The best friend - James Beaufort (2)

Click here to read part 1

Main characters: James Beaufort x reader Genre: fanfiction, fluff, TV show Word count: 2567

Summary: Y/N invited James and his sister Lydia for a day out at the water. Will this be the moment for a lot of realisation?

It was around 22:00h when Y/N stopped the car in the driveway and glanced at James. “Shall I wait here, or do I have to park over there?” She pointed at the free spot behind Percy’s car, next to the wall of his house.

“You can wait,” James replied, his tone neutral.

She nodded and put the car in park, setting the handbrake. As James unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door, he hesitated. “Actually…” He turned to her. “I think it’s weird if you stay here. But then you will have to…” He pressed his lips into a thin line.

“I’ll park the car,” Y/N responded. James got out, and Y/N parked behind Percy’s car. She then stepped out, swiftly putting her hair up with a clip and leaving a few strands to frame her face. Opening the trunk, she swapped her trainers for heels. Locking the car, she walked over to James. “How do I look?”

James scanned his best friend from head to toe. The transformation from casual to chic business attire was seamless. A smile spread across his face. “Like a businesswoman,” he said.

“Perfect.” Her heels clinked on the concrete as they walked together toward the front door.

“How…” He glanced at her, curiosity piqued. “How did you know about the heels? The preparation?”

“Women’s secret,” she teased. “It’s my mum’s car. She always has an extra pair of heels in the trunk. And by wearing the most comfortable trousers that look chic and classy. Always be prepared, James.” The front door opened just as she finished speaking. “You never know what to expect.”

James looked impressed and stuck out his arm, signing she could enter the house first.

“Miss Y/L/N,” one of the maids said. “Mister Beaufort.”

“Good evening,” James said formally.

Y/N always noticed how James’ demeanour changed when he was at his own house. Here, he was quieter, his smiles less frequent, and his energy felt... different. The lively, carefree James she knew so well seemed to retreat, replaced by a more reserved version of himself. If she was honest, James acted like an asshole when he was home.

“Hello,” the cheery voice of Y/N said.

As they walked through the grand foyer, Y/N couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness for him. The house was magnificent, yet it seemed to cast a shadow over James' vibrant personality. It was his home, and she respected and accepted that.

When they reached the living room, it almost seemed like James’ parents were expecting them. Mr. and Mrs. Beaufort stood beside each other, ready to greet the two young adults. “Good evening, James. Y/N,” Mr Beaufort said, nodding slightly in acknowledgement. Mrs Beaufort offered a polite smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Good evening, Mr and Mrs Beaufort,” Y/N replied, her voice respectful yet warm.

“Whence the honour to see you here so late?” Mr Beaufort asked Y/N.

“Lydia and I are invited for a sailing trip with Y/N’s family,” James answered for Y/N. “So we are here to pick up Lydia.”

Mrs Beaufort nodded, her smile turning more genuine. Despite a pang of jealousy over the warmth and inviting nature of Y/N’s family, she was glad her children could receive that kind of respect and hospitality from them.

“That sounds delightful,” Mrs. Beaufort said. “Lydia will be pleased.”

“I will go get my bag and pick up Lydia,” James excused himself, touching Y/N’s lower back briefly.

As soon as James was out of sight, Y/N was immediately offered a drink. Recognising it as an invitation to engage in conversation, she asked for a glass of water and sat on the sofa. It didn’t take long for Mr. Beaufort to seize the opportunity to inquire about her parents’ business, probing for information and potential investment opportunities. Y/N barely knew anything about James’ family, but she knew everything about their business. And probably vice versa. Y/N’s entire personality changed from herself to a businesswoman. She knew how to navigate these conversations carefully, revealing enough to satisfy curiosity but not too much to compromise her family’s privacy. She skillfully deflects any attempts to delve too deeply into sensitive details. She was polite and engaging yet maintained a firm boundary around the specifics of her parents’ business strategies.

After a few more minutes, James returned with his bag and Lydia behind him. When Lydia saw Y/N, she cheerfully smiled.

“It was delightful catching up with you, Mr. and Mrs. Beaufort,” Y/N politely smiled and got up. “Good evening,” she said goodbye to James's parents.

As Y/N and Lydia made their way to Y/N’s car, Mr. Beaufort stopped James, sharing some possible investment or collaboration strategies with Y/N’s family. James listened politely, nodding along, but he knew he had no intention of pursuing these discussions. When he could finally excuse himself, he stepped outside to find Y/N reversing the car to make getting in easier. He never expected to think this, but he could kiss her on the spot. Y/N was thoughtful about so many things, but it made him feel weak. As he approached the car, he noticed Lydia already comfortably settled in the back seat, chatting animatedly with Y/N. James opened the passenger door and slid in, seeing how Y/N had already turned back into herself.

“Ready to go?” Y/N asked.

“Absolutely,” James replied, feeling a sense of relief as they drove away from the formal atmosphere of his home.

“Y/N,” Lydia said. Y/N had a quick glance at her in the mirror. “Have you ever considered to be a spin doctor? Or a spokeswoman? Because the way you communicate… Not to brag about myself, I know things about being a spokesperson, but you are a natural talent.” She smiled. “Oh, and thanks for the invite!”

Y/N bit her lip; she had never received a compliment like this.

“You talk so easily,” James added. “And you always know what to say when improvising.”

“Oh, stop it,” Y/N mumbled and entered the main road. “Thanks, I guess.” She licked her lips. “But yeah, I will reconsider it,’ she mumbled, driving back towards her house.

* * *

The sun was high in the sky as James, Lydia, Y/N and her family spent the day on the boat, anchored in a bay the following day. They weren’t the only ones who thought spending some time on the waters was a good idea: it felt like the entire country (well, more like the region) was present. But that didn’t stop anyone from enjoying the day. The gentle rocking of the boat and the sounds of the sea created a perfect backdrop for a day of relaxation and fun.

Lunch was served an hour ago. It was more like a picnic, but it was delicious. Y/N had been reading a book, and James was taking a nap in the sun. The others were swimming, playing board games, reading, or simply enjoying the tranquility.

James woke up from his nap and felt the sun burn on his skin. He sat up and stretched his arms. His eyes scanned the surroundings and a satisfied smile came on his lips. Then his eyes fell on Y/N, who was in her own world while reading. “Y/N/N,” he softly said.

She looked away from her book, slightly distracted. “Hmm, ja?”

“Shall we go for a swim?”

“Scared to go alone?” A playful smile came on her face.

“Always.”

She smirked. “Give me a minute, I’ve one page left.”

“Okay,” he said and got up, walking to the cabin to get a cold water bottle. The boat wasn’t huge, but big enough to have every facility on it to serve an entire family. James returned to find Y/N setting her book aside. He handed over the bottle of water. “Stay hydrated.”

She thankfully smiled and took a huge sip. “Much needed, though,” she replied. She threw the bottle on the sofa. “Ready?”

“Say no more.”

They walked to the edge of the boat, the sun reflecting off the water’s surface. Their eyes both squinted because of the bright reflection. James looked at Y/N; she was inspecting the water, doubting whether she should jump into it. A grin covered his face, and without hesitation, he jumped into the water in front of her.

Y/N gasped as the splash hit her, then laughed, shaking her head.

James widely smiled and brushed his hair out of his face. “Where are you waiting for?”

She rolled her eyes but smiled, taking a deep breath before diving in after him. The cool water was refreshing, and she quickly surfaced, shaking her head to remove the water droplets. “Oef,” she breathed. “My skin was so warm that the water feels so fucking cold.”

A laugh escaped his lips. “Don’t be such a wimp,” he said and splashed some water towards her direction.

“Ha-ha,” she retorted, playfully splashing him back.”

They began to float around. Sometimes, they point at another boat in the distance and talk about it or laugh about a memory.

“So… Do you know what you want to do after school?” Y/N asked the forbidden question.

James stared in the distance, trying to think of an answer to give. Oxford… That was on his plan. Correction: on his parents’ planning. “Oxford.”

“To do what?” Y/N raised her eyebrows.

He sighed. “Can we talk about this another time? This is not the time.”

“Sure…” Y/N rubbed her face. “I’m just curious and worried.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“You didn’t like it when I asked you the same question.”

“Because I didn’t know what I wanted.”

James turned to look at her. Despite the severe nature of their conversation, he couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she looked in the afternoon light. Her cheeks had a sun-kissed glow, and with her hair pulled back, her features were more defined. There was a caring look in her eyes, one that James had always had a weakness for. “I don’t know what I want either.”

“I thought you had a plan,” she said surprisingly.

“Oxford, spokesperson for Young Beaufort, other projects and eventually take over the business,” he listed off, a hint of frustration in his voice “The plan that was made before I was even born. So no, I don’t know what I want because it’s not my plan.”

Y/N knew about it. Lydia had the same kind of path planned out for her. But somewhere, she had always hoped James and Lydia would pick their own path. She could sense the conflict within him, torn between the expectations placed upon him and his own desires.

“And I can’t just take a gap year because my parents are less accommodating than yours. I have to live that perfect life, I can’t just try things and hope they work out. My parents have high expectations from me and the last thing that they will do is accept a gap year where I can explore my passion,” he snapped.

She pressed her lips into a thin line and looked down. “I know,” she said softly, her voice laced with empathy. “But sometimes, you must carve out your own path, despite what others may expect of you. It’s not easy, but it’s worth fighting for your own happiness.”

“Y/N, I know you want the best for me but I can’t make it true, okay? I know you try to cheer me up or give me some help, but I can’t. I appreciate it, but it’s my life,” he shot back. “And don’t take it personally; it’s something I have to deal with myself.”

“I understand,” she softly said, her heart aching for him. And then her heart dropped at the most wrong moment; she felt something brush against her leg. A loud gasp left Y/N’s mouth, and she reached for James. “Ew, ew, ew,” she panicked and clamped her legs around his waist, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I felt something! There’s something here!”

James was taken aback by Y/N's sudden panic, his mind still processing their conversation. But when he felt her grip tighten around him, he quickly snapped out of it, his instincts kicking in. He wrapped his arms around her protectively, scanning the water around them for any sign of danger.

“What? What is it?” he asked urgently, his voice laced with concern as he searched for the source of her distress.

“I-I don’t know,” Y/N stammered, her heart racing as she clung to him tightly. “I just felt something brush against my leg, and it freaked me out.”

James glanced around, his eyes narrowed as he tried to spot any movement in the water. “Stay calm,” he said reassuringly, though his own heart was pounding in his chest. Then he saw something in the water; just a plant. A snort left his mouth. “It’s a plant, Y/N,” he said and reached for it.

“No, I swear, it was not.”

“Look,” he said and held up the plant. A laugh rolled over his lips. “Just a plant.”

Y/N scanned the plant. “No, it was something else.” Her lips parted. “Don’t laugh,” she mocked and softly slapped his chest. His laughter filled her ears.

His laughter grew louder, the tension from their earlier conversation dissipating as they shared a lighthearted moment. "Alright, alright," he conceded, still grinning. "But I promise you, there's nothing to worry about. Just a harmless sea plant.” He held her close, his arm around her waist and her body pressed against his. With his other arm, he made movements to stay above the water. “Let’s get back to the boat,” he grinned. “But you have to swim yourself. I will stay close, okay?”

She nodded and slowly let go of him, still staying close to him, almost afraid to move. James grabbed her hand and waved their fingers together.

As they swam back towards the boat, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling of James's hand in hers, the warmth of his touch sending ripples of electricity through her veins. She stole glances at him as they moved through the water; His hair, damp from the water, fell slightly tousled across his forehead, accentuating the soft curve of his jawline. The sunlight danced across his skin, highlighting the subtle freckles dusted across his face.

With each stroke, Y/N felt herself drawn closer to James, the distance between them narrowing until they were side by side, their fingers intertwined as they moved through the water together. And at that moment, surrounded by the vast expanse of the sea and the boundless sky above, Y/N felt a sense of peace wash over her—a feeling of belonging that she had never experienced before.

When they reached the boat's ladder, James turned to look at her, his eyes soft and gentle as he helped her climb aboard. “Are you okay? Alive? Do you still have all your limbs?”

Her face straightened. “Shut up.”

He widely smiled. “See, nothing to be afraid of.”

Click here to go to part 3

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