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drowning-in-paragraphs · 1 month ago

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PUSH AND PULL

a/n: Hey! Sorry it's been a long time, but rn I have a lot of exams… While I finish them, here's something I've written before.

jude bellingham x gf!reader

warnings: they fight but happy ending! long af

summary: In love, mess is inevitable—especially when you're as stubborn as Jude and you. A fight breaks out, and with it, comes chaos. But instead of facing it like adults, you both become kids again, unable to stop poking at each other and pushing each other's buttons. Whether it's a teasing remark, a too-close-for-comfort touch, or a pointed silence, you both dance around your feelings, caught in the tension of unspoken frustration. However, when the stubborness between you becomes unbearable, one kiss shatters the walls you’ve both carefully built.

The flat was a battlefield of silence. Not the peaceful kind, but the sharp-edged, suffocating kind, where every creak of the floorboards sounded like an accusation. Jude sat sprawled on the couch, legs wide, one hand gripping the remote. The TV played highlights from some old match, but you could tell from the way his eyes lingered on the screen without focus that he wasn’t watching.

You also sat on the couch, cross-legged, your laptop balanced on your thighs. With the television humming faintly in the background, you pretended to be engrossed in your laptop, fingers brushing aimlessly over the keys. Your hair fell over one shoulder, hiding the way you glanced at him every so often, wondering if he would break the silence. He did not. What he did, was catching you once, his dark eyes locking with yours for a brief moment, before you both looked away as if burned.

The tension in the room was suffocating, as if the air itself refused to move. Neither of you dared to take the first step to break the silence, which stretched between you like an invisible wall. The funniest part was that, in a house so vast, the two of you had ended up in the same room, sharing the same couch, barely a few inches apart. It was almost ridiculous. Tho, you didn’t react. Not outwardly, at least. Internally, you rolled your eyes so hard it hurt.

The fight from last night sat heavily between you. It was the kind of argument that left no room for winners, only wounds. You weren’t even sure how it started. He neither. A jab here, a poorly timed comment there, and before you knew it, the words turned sharp, biting into places neither of you wanted exposed. And now, all that was left was this: icy silence and the simmering frustration of two people who loved each other too much to let go but were too proud to make the first move.

Jude turned up the volume on the TV—just a notch higher than necessary. A small, petty move, but you caught it. You gritted your teeth and opened another tab on your laptop, pretending to type while your jaw clenched.

He leaned back, draping an arm casually across the back of the couch, his shirt hitching up just enough to reveal a sliver of skin. A silver of his abs. You noticed—of course, you noticed—but you stubbornly refused to let your gaze linger. He was doing it on purpose, you were sure of it. The smug bastard.

To be fair, you weren’t entirely innocent either. You’d been wandering around the house all day without a bra, and you were well aware of how his eyes occasionally darted toward you before he quickly looked away. It wasn’t overt, nothing you could call him out on, but you could feel his awareness of you, just as you were hyper-aware of him.

In retaliation, you slammed your laptop shut, regardless of the tabs you had open. The noise echoed through the room, over the loud volume of the TV, and for a moment, Jude’s eyes met yours. There was a challenge in his gaze, a slight arch of his eyebrow, but he didn’t say anything. Then, as if nothing, you opened the device again.

After a while, your boyfriend, decided that now the couch was not as comfortable as it was minutes before and went to the kitchen. In there, Jude’s movements were deliberate, exaggerated in a way that felt almost taunting. He opened the fridge with more force than necessary, the door creaking loudly, and lingered there for what felt like forever before finally pulling out a bottle of water. He unscrewed the cap with unnecessary force, the crack of the seal piercing the silence.

“You could’ve done that quieter,” you muttered, not looking up from your screen.

He snorted, the sound low and derisive. “You’ve been so sensitive later.”

Your jaw tightened, but you didn’t respond. Instead, you tapped harder on your keyboard, the clatter of the keys a pointed counter to his earlier disruption. It was petty, childish even, but you couldn’t help yourself. If he was going to be difficult, you could be too. You knew he hated that, and when you turned back, you caught the briefest twitch of his lips, as if he was holding back a smirk.

The audacity of him almost made you snap again.

The minutes dragged on, and the uneasy rhythm of your coexistence continued. Jude eventually moved to the living room, sprawling across the other end of the couch. His long legs stretched out, nudging your thigh as he adjusted his position. It wasn’t accidental—you could tell by the faint smirk that tugged at his lips when you glared at him.

“Can you not?” you snapped, shifting slightly away from him. Honestly, even when you were angry, you still liked the warmth of his contact, but you knew that pulling away would bother him.

“What? I’m just sitting,” he said, his tone infuriatingly casual. But then he moved his leg again, deliberately pressing it against yours, skin against warm skin. This time, you didn’t move, choosing instead to act as if you didn’t notice at all.

“Sitting doesn’t involve invading someone else’s space.”

He didn’t respond, but the smirk on his face only deepened, as if he found your irritation amusing. Leaning further back into the couch, he made himself completely comfortable, clearly unbothered.

You turned your focus back to your laptop, though you weren’t sure why you bothered. It wasn’t like you were getting any actual work done.

When he grabbed the remote and started flipping through channels, the sound of the TV growing louder with each change, you shot him another glare. He didn’t acknowledge it, his gaze fixed on the screen as if he couldn’t feel the weight of your annoyance.

“Are you trying to be obnoxious, or does it just come naturally?” you asked, your voice sharp.

He finally turned to look at you, annoyed, raising an eyebrow. “You’re one to talk.”

The air between you crackled with unspoken tension, but neither of you said anything more. Instead, you both retreated into the silence, your mutual frustration simmering just below the surface.

By early afternoon, the passive-aggressive dance had reached new heights. You were in the kitchen, making yourself a coffee when he got up moments later, brushing past you as he headed to the sink. You could have moved, made it easier for him, but you didn’t. Neither did he. Your shoulders bumped, and you felt a spark of irritation—at him, at yourself, at the situation.

“Excuse me,” he said finally, his tone clipped but low, his breath brushing your temple as he reached over you for a glass. You stepped aside, not because you wanted to but because your pride wouldn’t let you linger there like some lovesick fool.

He filled the glass with water, the sound of it cascading against the sink somehow louder than necessary. His presence so close to you was suffocating, but you refused to move too far. He stood there for a moment with heavy eye contact after taking a sip, leaning against the counter like he was waiting for you to react.

You didn’t.

Instead, you grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and bit into it, appearing uninterested. You saw him glance at you from the corner of his eye, and for a fleeting second, you thought you saw amusement flicker across his face. It vanished as quickly as it appeared.

The rest of the afternoon passed in much the same way—sharp glances, clipped words, and small actions that seemed designed to provoke the other. When Jude left his empty glass on the coffee table instead of taking it to the sink, you picked it up with exaggerated care, your movements pointedly loud as you placed it in the dishwasher. When you adjusted the thermostat without asking, he changed it back moments later, the beep of the controls echoing like a challenge.

This repeated a few times.

Neither of you said what you really wanted to say. The words hovered in the air, unspoken but undeniable, like a ghost haunting the space between you.

As the night deepened, the tension between you became almost unbearable, thick and suffocating in the dimly lit room. You lay curled up on the bed, your fingers mindlessly scrolling through your phone, the glow of the screen illuminating your face. At the other end of the mattress, Jude sat hunched over his own device, the faint light from his screen carving sharp shadows across his features. His face was drawn tight, his brows furrowed in a way that made the lines of worry and frustration painfully obvious. You couldn’t help but wonder if you looked the same—tired, distant, and weighed down by the silence hanging between you.

You despised this chasm that had grown between you, the quiet hostility that lingered unspoken in the air. The silence wasn’t a comfortable one—it was filled with an unrelenting tension, an undercurrent of anger and hurt that felt alien and wrong. This wasn’t what you had envisioned. It wasn’t what you wanted. You loved him, even now, even through the haze of pain and frustration that churned within you. That love was still there, steady and unwavering, but it felt harder to reach, buried beneath the heavy layers of everything left unsaid.

Jude shifted slightly, his movement breaking the stillness. His fingers brushed against your arm, light as a whisper, a touch so brief it was almost nothing—but it wasn’t nothing. The contact jolted through you, surprising in its warmth and its ability to remind you of what once felt so natural. For a moment, you both froze. The touch lingered, suspended in time, carrying more weight than such a small gesture should. Then, just as suddenly as it had come, he pulled his hand away, retreating back to his side of the bed.

The silence returned, heavier than before.

The bed had grown colder as the hours ticked on, the tension between you and Jude acting like an invisible barrier, keeping you both firmly planted on opposite ends of the mattress. Sleep came to you first, though not peacefully—it was the restless kind, with the occasional shuffle and murmured sigh as your body sought the warmth that your pride kept you from asking for.

Jude stayed awake longer, his phone abandoned on the nightstand. His gaze flickered toward your sleeping form, the soft rise and fall of your shoulders pulling at something deep inside him. Even in sleep, there was a tightness to the set of your jaw, a lingering sign of the frustration that had consumed the day. He wanted to reach out, to smooth the lines away with his thumb, to press a kiss to the crown of your head like he always did when you argued. But the memory of your sharp words, and his own stubbornness, kept him still.

Eventually, exhaustion claimed him, and he drifted off into a restless slumber.

Next morning, the dim light of morning crept through the cracks in the blinds, casting soft stripes across the room. Jude stirred first, his body stiff and warm under the tangled sheets. He blinked, disoriented for a moment, until he became acutely aware of two things: the faint scent of your shampoo and the fact that his arm was draped securely around your waist.

His heart thudded once, heavy and slow, as the realization hit. Sometime during the night, you two had moved closer, the invisible wall of your argument forgotten in sleep. Your back was pressed against his chest, your legs loosely intertwined, his nose buried in the crown of your hair. It felt impossibly natural, like the way you used to fit before the fight. His hold on you was firm but careful, as if even his sleeping self knew you were something precious, something not to let go of.

Jude’s lips twitched into the faintest of smiles before his pride crept in, whispering to him that this was just a fluke. He wasn’t supposed to be happy about this, was he? You were still angry—still caught in the push and pull of your unresolved tension. But damn it, holding you like this felt good. Really good. It felt right. He allowed himself one more selfish second to savor the moment before you stirred.

Your soft murmur pulled him from his thoughts. You shifted slightly, pressing closer to his chest, your body melting into his as if seeking his warmth even in sleep. His heart ached, and a wave of affection so fierce it startled him coursed through his chest. He wanted to kiss you, to tell you he was sorry for the things he said, the things he didn’t say. But pride anchored him in place, so instead, he lay there, pretending he didn’t feel anything at all.

You woke to the steady rhythm of his breathing and the unmistakable weight of his arm around you. For a moment, still caught in the haze of sleep, you sighed contentedly, nestling closer to the warmth behind you. It felt safe, familiar, and so achingly right that it made your chest tighten.

But then, reality crashed in like a bucket of cold water. You froze, eyes flying open, as you realized exactly where you were—and who you were with. The fight, the tension, the stubborn refusal to bridge the gap between you—it all came rushing back, drowning out the soft thrum of happiness that lingered from waking in his arms.

Still, you didn’t move immediately. Instead, you let yourself linger for just a moment longer, feeling the solidness of him behind you, the warmth of his breath against your neck. Your heart ached with love, raw and unrelenting, a stark contrast to the frustration still simmering beneath the surface. How could you feel both so intensely at once?

You wanted to turn around, to meet his gaze and let the love you felt show on your face. But the pride that had fueled your argument held you still. You couldn’t be the first to crack—not after last night. So, you did what you always did: you pushed the feelings down, buried them under a layer of indifference, and carefully shifted away.

You swung your legs out of bed, avoiding Jude’s gaze as you reached for your robe. He remained lounging on his side, his dark eyes tracking your movements.

“Morning,” he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep. It wasn’t quite warm, but it lacked the sharp edge from yesterday.

“Morning,” you replied, fastening the belt of your robe with deliberate nonchalance.

As you padded to the kitchen to start the coffee, Jude followed, his footsteps soft but noticeable. He leaned casually against the counter as you worked, his arms crossed over his chest. The silence between you hung heavy but was no longer suffocating—just thick with the remnants of stubborn pride.

“You’re not going to make me a cup too?” he asked, arching a brow when you filled a single mug. A smirk tugged at his lips.

Yep, that early in the morning.

You turned, lips also twitching. “Last I checked, you have two hands and know where the mugs are.”

That smirk persisted, and for the first time in what felt like forever, it wasn’t mocking—it was teasing. “Wow. So generous this morning.”

You shrugged, raising your mug to your lips. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises.”

Jude shook his head, stepping forward to grab his own cup. You moved to lean against the counter opposite him, your mug cradled in both hands. He stood closer than necessary, the distance between you shrinking inch by inch as the minutes passed.

“You were hogging the blanket last night,” he stated suddenly, breaking the quiet.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Excuse me? I was hogging the blanket? You’re the human furnace who takes up three-quarters of the bed.”

He scoffed, setting his mug down. “Three-quarters? Dramatic much? You sleep like a starfish.”

A laugh escaped before you could stop it—a real, unguarded laugh that felt like a balm to the tension still clinging to the edges of the morning. Jude’s lips quirked into a grin, the kind that softened the sharp lines of his face and made your heart skip despite yourself. You rolled your eyes, trying to maintain some semblance of composure.

The teasing was lighthearted, a refreshing shift from the icy tension of the previous day. But underneath it, the stubbornness remained—a silent promise that neither of you would be the first to openly admit you wanted peace.

Jude leaned against the counter, his coffee in hand, watching you with that maddening smirk. It wasn’t just his expression; it was the way he stood, as if the entire kitchen belonged to him, as if he were perfectly at ease and you were the one who had to figure out how to navigate the unspoken rules of this little game.

“You’re staring,” you pointed out, raising an eyebrow as you sipped your coffee calmly.

He shrugged, utterly unbothered. “Can you blame me? You’re kind of hard to miss.”

“Oh, please,” you retorted, setting your mug down and crossing your arms. “I’m not in the mood for your cheesy one-liners. They are not working.”

“It wasn’t a one-liner. It was an observation,” he replied smoothly, taking a step closer. His dark eyes sparkled with mischief as he added, “And besides, it’s not my fault you look cute when you’re grumpy.”

Your jaw tightened, but the corners of your lips betrayed you, twitching upward for just a moment before you caught yourself. “I know you miss me, but this is not the way of fixing things.”

“Miss you?” he shot back, leaning closer, his proximity making your heart stutter. “I woke up with you cuddling against me so…”

You rolled your eyes and turned away, feigning nonchalance as you began to tidy the already clean counter. “That’s not how... forget it,”

The morning passed in a steady rhythm of petty jabs and fleeting touches that neither of you could resist. When you walked past him to grab something from the pantry, his hand brushed lightly against your lower back—just enough to make your skin tingle. You shot him a look over your shoulder, but he was already looking elsewhere, as if the contact had been incidental. You knew better.

Later, as you stood by the sink rinsing your mug, Jude joined you, crowding your space under the guise of washing his hands. The sink was large enough for both of you, but he leaned in anyway, his arm brushing against yours, his warmth seeping into your skin.

“Do you mind?” you asked, tilting your head to glare at him.

“Not at all,” he replied with a grin, his voice laced with mock innocence.

You huffed, turning to move away, but his hand darted out to catch yours. The suddenness of it made you freeze, and for a moment, you just stared at each other, the air thickening between you. Jude’s thumb brushed against the back of your hand, a simple, unassuming touch that sent shivers racing up your arm.

But just as quickly, he released you, his smirk returning as if to mask the moment of vulnerability. “Don’t trip over your own stubbornness,” he said, stepping back.

You bristled, turning sharply to face him. “Me? Stubborn? That’s rich coming from you.”

The tension that had been simmering all morning suddenly flared, sharp and electric. That was what you both needed. “You’ve been impossible since yesterday,” he shot back, his voice rising just enough to match yours. “I’m not the one slamming laptops shut and stomping around like a child.”

Your eyes narrowed, and you took a step closer, your chest brushing against his as you jabbed a finger at his chest. “And I’m not the one deliberately trying to piss the other off!”

Jude tilted his head, his smirk fading into something darker, more serious. “Oh, you think I’m the one pushing buttons here? Newsflash, love—you’ve been just as bad.”

“Love?” you repeated, your voice dripping with incredulity. “Don’t you dare—”

Before you could finish your sentence, Jude’s hands moved, quick and decisive. One slid to the small of your back, the other cupped your ass firmly, and in one smooth motion, he pulled you against him and lifted you off the ground. A startled gasp escaped your lips, but it was swallowed almost immediately as his mouth crashed against yours.

Finally, you thought to yourself, something you would never say out-loud.

The kiss was hot and demanding, a clash of teeth and tongues that mirrored the intensity of your earlier fight. Jude’s lips moved against yours with a ferocity that left no room for argument, his grip on you possessive and unyielding. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your hands finding purchase in his neck as you pulled him closer.

For a moment, you forgot everything—the fight, the pride, the stubbornness. All that existed was the heat of his mouth on yours, the solidness of his body pressed against you, and the way his hands gripped you like he never wanted to let go. It was messy and desperate and so painfully raw that it left you breathless.

When he finally pulled back, his lips were red and swollen, his breathing uneven as he stared at you with a mix of frustration and something deeper, something softer. “You argue too much,” he said, his voice rough and low.

You blinked at him, your chest heaving as you tried to process what had just happened. “And you—”

“No no, shhh,” he interrupted, his mouth crashing against yours again. This time, the kiss was slower, more deliberate, but no less intense. It was an apology, a truce, and a declaration all rolled into one.

When he pulled back this time, his hands lingered, one sliding up to cup your cheek while the other stayed firmly at your waist. His thumb brushed lightly across your skin, and the intensity in his gaze made your breath catch. His chest was heaving, just like yours, as if the kiss had stolen the air from both of you.

You stared at him, the heat of his touch grounding you even as your heart raced. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence thick with everything that had just been said without words.

Finally, you broke it, your voice soft but steady. “I’m sorry,” you murmured, meeting his gaze. “For… being difficult. For letting it drag on like this.”

Jude raised a brow, his expression caught somewhere between surprise and amusement. “Oh, so you can apologize,” he teased, though the smirk on his face softened at the edges.

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched despite yourself. “Juuude, don’t ruin the moment,” you warned, your tone light.

“I’m not,” he said, his voice gentler now. “Keep going, come on, I want to hear you say how wrong you were.”

Your laugh slipped out before you could stop it, and you swatted lightly at his chest. “Don’t push it.” But then your smile faded, replaced by something softer, more vulnerable. “I really am sorry, baby.”

His teasing faded as he looked at you, the sincerity in your voice settling over him like a balm. “Yeah, well,” he began, his hand sliding from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling you just a little closer. “I’m sorry too. For being a stubborn ass. And for… picking fights when I should’ve just talked to you.”

You tilted your head slightly, your hands sliding up to rest on his shoulders. “We’re a real pair, aren’t we?”

His thumb traced circles against your hip, his touch impossibly warm. “We’re kind of great, though,” he whispered, his voice almost teasing. “When we’re not driving each other crazy.”

You let out another soft laugh, his breath warm against your lips. “You’re not wrong.”

The air between you shifted, the playfulness giving way to something deeper. Your lips hovered over his, your breaths mingling as the tension built again, electric and magnetic. You kissed him this time, slow but deliberate, pouring every ounce of affection and apology into it. His grip on your waist and ass tightened, pulling you flush against him, and you could feel the way his heartbeat echoed yours, fast and unsteady.

When you finally broke apart, his lips were slightly swollen, his eyes dark and half-lidded as he gazed down at you. “You’re a tease, you know that?” he muttered, his voice husky.

You smirked, the heat still thrumming through your veins. “Only for you.”

“Lucky me,” he murmured, his tone both teasing and sincere. Then, without warning, he bent slightly, sliding his hands down to your thighs and hoisting you up effortlessly. A surprised laugh escaped you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried you out of the kitchen.

“Jude—what are you doing?” you asked, though your tone betrayed more excitement than protest.

“Making up properly,” he replied, his voice low and rough in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. “No more interruptions.”

You didn’t argue. Instead, you leaned into him, your hands threading through his hair as he kissed you again, his lips stealing every thought from your mind. Whatever tension had lingered between you melted away completely, leaving only warmth, laughter, and the undeniable pull of each other.

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celestialprincesse · 1 year ago

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hi!

could you write a soft (with a hint of spice) story about Simon or Konig where reader is in dire need of getting affection, but doesn’t want to bother them by asking?

please and thank you!! 🫶🫶

Of course I can!! Sorry for letting this gather dust in my ask box!! I keep meaning to go through my asks but I end up getting distracted and yapping!

mdni 🎀 mild nsfw

König doesn't pay you much attention as you sit curled on the worn couch in his office, trying to avoid the springs that dig through the old leather of the cushions, whilst simultaneously trying to get comfortable. At the beginning, the incessant snatching of his rudimentary biro on the obnoxious stack of forms occupying his desk had been soothing. You'd even managed to drift of for a snooze at one point, before being woken up by some sergeant barging into his office. Your positive mood has long since faded. You're hungry, having held out for the promise that he'd take you to your favourite restaurant as soon as he finished filling out his mission reports, said promise having been nearly three hours ago - and the stupid lights of his dingy office have you convinced that you've got a migraine coming on. "Shouldn't a colonel's office be a little nicer than this?" You hum, attempting to catch your boyfriend's attention, an attempt which is promptly thrown back out you when he gives a noncommittal grunt.

You manage to keep occupied with your own thoughts for another ten minutes before you're up on your feet, poring over the books on his shelf in an attempt to find something at least remotely engaging. Unfortunately, your boyfriend's literature is limited to weaponry and maps, neither of which you find particularly intriguing. Eventually you manage to find some dusty biography of some commander with a name you can't even pronounce, settling back on the couch to skim the pages for anything that may be of any possible interest. Unsurprisingly, it comes up naught. For a while, you try to settle with just resting, listening to the rhythmic sound of putting one to paper - a while being five minutes, and then you're at your wits end. König lets out a confused, slightly disgruntled huff as you plop yourself down on his lap, stuffing your face into the crook of his neck with a deep sigh. "Leibe-" He grunts, his pen dropping to the desk as he uses a hand to rub up and down your spine, suddenly sensing your frustration now that he's been ripped from the hyper-focussed state he'd been in. "Been ignoring me all day." You whine, aiming for him to take some pity on you. "You know I didn't mean to, my love." A massive hand stroking through your hair has you practically melting into him as he absently massages the nape of your neck with his strong fingers.

Apparently, having his attention isn't enough, because despite the hand alternating between brushing through your hair and soothing the muscles in his shoulders, you still find yourself grinding down on the sinewy muscle of his denim-clad thigh. "Needy thing." He coos as you rock your cunt back and forth over his tree trunk of a leg, blushing face hidden against his collar. He doesn't mind, of course, not at all. In fact, he gives a helping hand, gently bouncing his leg up and down as your hips cant needily against him, your panties slick soaked and see through as you get yourself off on his leg.

The minute you've finished, he's pressing affectionate, loving kisses to your head and rubbing the taut muscles of your back. "Next time you're bored, schatz, just tell me, hm?"

#cod mwii #cod mw2 #cod #call of duty #modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare #kortac #konig cod #Konig x reader #konig x fem reader #konig x f!reader #konig smut #konig x y/n #konig call of duty #könig #cod mw3 #mw2 #konig fluff #angies asks!

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icallhimjoey · 8 months ago

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now you’re allowed to write again, this is a formal request for the smut pls 🤝🏼😌

okay so, im bringing back bet!joe for you, because part of your brand is privately requesting specific smut, so our double or nothing boy's back with a new bet! (lil tw: it's.... it's right there, in the request, 18+) Wordcount: 2.4K

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All The Aces

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

“You’re wrong.”

He was wrong.

“Am I?” Joe smirked before he threw his head back to catch a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“Izzy, please tell him he’s wrong.”

He was so, so wrong.

The flake of popcorn he then threw over that got stuck in your hair went vocally ignored – you just fished it out and threw it back, watched how Joe was chewing an open mouthful of his own, smugly smiling at your bad aim.

That flake landed on the floor about two feet away from him. Izzy picked it up as she walked past, already annoyed with the two of you before she’d even sat down.

Him visibly enjoying her disdain wasn’t exactly helping his case.

“Don’t get me involved in whatever you two do to get each other off.” Izzy commented as she sat down next to you to which you audibly gasped.

You were pressed into the corner of your sofa with a little bowl of crisps balanced on the side – your own one, because neither Joe or Izzy wanted any crisps. They wanted popcorn, so they got to share the big bowl.

With your flatmate slash best friend next to you, your legs pretty much filled out the entire sofa, leaving Joe sit by himself in the armchair and thus placing Izzy in between the two of you, right in line of your crossfire.

“We don’t–” you started, but the dropped jaw you’d had on show for a second too long had prompted Joe to chuck a whole handful of popcorn at you.

None actually made it into your mouth.

“I genuinely don’t need to hear about what does or doesn’t get you off.” Izzy raised her voice slightly as she looked at Joe, telling him off for throwing food. He immediately stopped his laughter and apologised by handing the bowl over to her before he sat back, giving you the opportunity to pick and drop all thrown flakes back into the bowl.

“Just, just take it from me that he’s– you’re wrong.” you urged, and Joe just laughed.

Izzy shook her head as she took a deep breath in through flared nostrils.

Joe took that to mean more than just sheer annoyance at being dragged into whatever childish fight you had going.

“Izzy knows what’s up,” Joe held up a hand, ready to high five her, absolutely willing her refusal to get into this argument with you as an agreement to him being right.

Which, he very much wasn’t.

Izzy ignored him though, left him hanging like a loser, which made you chuckle.

“Will you just, hear me out? Did you hear what he said just now?” you sat up a little, legs crossing in front of you as you turned to Izzy who was now finding whatever she said she wanted to watch on the TV, remote in hand, eyes trained on the screen.

“She did hear me, which is why she won’t.” Joe simply said, leaning back in his chair all relaxed, hands behind his head, legs crossing at the ankles as he placed them on the coffee table.

“No, but, listen. Joe said–”

“I don’t care what Joe said,” Izzy deadpanned. “These lovers quarrels ain’t it. I know you live here so I can’t just kick you out, but…” Izzy’s eyes flicked to Joe, which made him scoff in mock-shock before he let his face turn kind.

Sarcastically kind.

“No, she’s right. It’s okay. I’m wrong. I’m wrong. I’m just a man, and what do I really know, right? You know, besides the fact that you have like, a billion more nerve endings than we do, which arguably should mean I’m right, just by the science and biology of everything, but, fine. I’ll be wrong if that makes you feel better. I accept my defeat.”

As Joe finished his small monologue, you were both frowning at him - for different reasons.

You, because he was being a little shit.

Izzy, because she was slowly trying to puzzle together what the fuck he was on about.

She then slowly turned her head towards you, eyes squinted in thought, and you sighed as you looked at her. You pretended Joe wasn’t able to hear you when you said, “Maybe you should kick him out, I’m not–”

“It’s 8000.” She interrupted you sort of casually.

“What?”

“If you’re talking about what I think you’re talking about, it’s 8000 nerve endings for you,” Izzy nodded at you, and then turned to Joe to nod at him, “And 4000 for you.”

Joe raised his eyebrows in slight surprise as he smiled, reaching for another hand of popcorn with one hand whilst pointing the other at you.

“See? Double! That’s double the pleasure!”

“What do you mean, see? Like that proves you’re right?”

“Are you forgetting that we’re talking about something I am witness to? You can’t make such wild claims when I literally know how you–”

“Oh, my God. Stop!”

Izzy rapidly turned her head a few times between the two of you, trying to follow along, before she muted the TV and sat back a little.

“All right, I’m too invested now. What the fuck is the problem…”

“She said women don’t care for orgasms.”

“That’s not what I said, you– No, Izzy,” you had to laugh at the vile facial expression she gave you. “That’s not what I said! I said that for me–”

“No, no no. You said for women.” Joe was quick to correct you, wagging a complacent finger at you.

“Sure, yes. Fine. For women, sex isn’t just about the orgasm at the end. Like, that’s not the most important thing. It’s not all about that.”

Izzy’s face dropped as she blinked slowly, and you saw how Joe was studying her face as he did his very best to keep his own laughter inside of his body.

“Don’t you agree there’s so many other things–”

“Shh shh,” Joe held up a hand, “Let her think.”

You obliged with an eye roll.

Joe was wrong.

“I don’t…” Izzy seemed at a fucking loss. What the fuck was this conversation she’d just accepted herself into? It was bad enough that these were sometimes the type of discussions held within your group of friends, wild accusations thrown over a table that you all got far too passionate about. It was a whole other thing to have two of those said friends now together, as a couple, having the debate in Izzy’s living room where the issue was wholly personal and, worst of all, inescapable.

She sighed as she squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers.

“Sex isn’t just about the orgasm, right?” you tried, speaking softly, praying she’d at least sort of agree with you. You knew she did, but didn’t know if she’s vocalise it in the moment because you also understood she thought you and Joe were being fucking ridiculous.

She just wanted to watch her favourite show on TV.

Have a quiet night in.

And yet, here you were.

Talking about if orgasms mattered or not.

“Oh, then what is it about?” Joe couldn’t help spatting out as he went for another handful of popcorn from the bowl Izzy had now placed on the table in front of him.

“Um,” you sat up more, now borderline sitting on your knees and nearly knocking off the small bowl of crisps behind you, holding both hands up, ready to count on your fingers.

“Foreplay, intimacy, being close, feeling connected–” you saw Joe slump back into his seat, pushing his chin up as he sarcastically nodded at you with squinted eyes and a deep frown.

It was stupid how that made you laugh whilst you also tried your best at raising your voice to make sure he was hearing what you were saying. To convey you weren’t lying. Which, you truly weren’t!

You continued, “Doing a fun activity together, it’s like quality time, isn’t it?” you tried, nudging Izzy, but not waiting for an answer as you quickly carried on with, “The attention, being appreciated– giving appreciation! Learning about each other! All of these things go both ways, Joe, there’s just… there’s so many things.”

You looked at him a second whilst he seemed to think it over. Just when his facial expression seemed to give way with a raised eyebrow and a small cock to the side of his head, you sternly demanded, “Admit you’re wrong.” which was exactly the wrong thing to say.

“I’ll admit those things are nice, sure.”

Joe threw back his handful of popcorn and wiped his hands, giving himself a moment to think of how he was going to phrase what he was about to say.

You and Izzy waited expectantly, both sets of eyes on Joe who seemed far too relaxed for a single guy sat opposite two women, making wild claims that he somehow would know more about sex from a woman’s perspective than they would.

He truly did believe that to be the case, though.

So wrong.

“But, if we’re not crossing the finish line, what’s the point?”

“Did you not listen to the whole list of things I just gave you?”

“I’m not wrong.”

“You absolutely are wrong.”

“I’m not only not wrong. I am also, right.”

Izzy, who had been quiet for a bit, stared into the space in front of her as she suddenly loudly scoffed.

“He’s wrong right?” you pushed just slightly, desperately needing your best friend to be on your side for this one.

“Listen,” Izzy started, holding up a hand. “I’ve…” she faltered, and you made eye contact with Joe, a little panicked, a little confused.

What if she was going to tell you that you were wrong?

Oh no.

Best friend betrayal.

If Izzy disagreed with you, she could be an adult about it and pretend, just for the sake of it, that you were right and then tell you about her real feelings later, outside of Joe’s earshot.

Bros before hoes and all that.

“The finish line is important…”

Yes.

You smiled as smugly as you could and saw Joe’s slowly fade.

Izzy was a bro.

Yes.

You could just feel how she was about to side with you on this before she’d even said the words.

“But if it’s between all that she said and just, as you put it, crossing the finish line... she wins. She’s right.”

There.

End of discussion.

You didn’t cheer, or high five your best friend, or point at Joe to shriek at him that he was an idiot. You just accepted Izzy’s answer and gave a small shrug that quietly said, “See?”

Izzy reached for the remote she’d put down, unmuted the TV, and Joe watched as the two of you got comfortable on the sofa together. How you sat back and reached for snacks and laid the throw blankets across your laps just right.

It was a little suspicious how long he stayed quiet, but you knew it would only be a moment for him to try and argue his case once more.

There was no point, you knew, but you also knew Joe had an ego that was fragile, like all men had egos that were fragile.

Male egos couldn’t just take hits like this one, even if he was outnumbered.

You were chewing on a crisp when, from the corner of your eye, you saw Joe’s finger wag from left to right, pointing at the two of you before he spoke.

“You can’t actually be serious…”

“Oh yea.” Izzy didn’t even look at him as she answered, and it was hard to hide your smile. “So serious.”

“So, you’re saying…” Joe sat up, both elbows on his knees, whilst neither of you moved. “You’d rather have sex and not come–”

“Half the time, that’s just life,” Izzy complained, and you both laughed.

Joe didn’t.

Your moment of haha-men-suck that had its feet stuck in truths had you laughing louder when you saw how Joe definitely wasn’t in on the joke.

When Izzy saw, she snapped her head towards you and stage whispered, “Uh oh…” through her giggles.

Joe scooted forward even further and doubled down, “You would rather have sex and not orgasm, than have an orgasm? Is that what you are saying?”

He needed to hear you say it.

“Joe… please accept that you’re wrong and let it rest.” You were very much trying to be the bigger person, which was easy when your friend had just helped you win the argument.

But then Izzy grabbed hold of your arm as she looked at your boyfriend.

“Careful...” she warned alarmingly. “I’ve seen that face before.”

“Tell me you mean that. What I just said. Say that you would rather have sex without an orgasm than one with one...” Joe ignored Izzy, dark eyes locked right onto yours, facial expression made of stone.

“No, that’s not...” you sighed, looked at Izzy, said, “He doesn’t get it.”

“He doesn’t get it.” Izzy echoed.

You were still making fun, unable to stop your giggles.

“Say what you mean, then.” Joe was still leant forward, was still staring you down, all serious and urgent.

“Can we just watch TV now, please?” Izzy interupted, increasing the volume of the TV slightly.

Joe didn’t falter in this weird staring contest he’d started, one you weren’t participating in.

You looked down at your bowl of crisps as you fished out another one.

You bit it in half and saw how Joe grew a little impatient as his eyes followed your hand as you fed yourself.

Then, you finally answered, “Sex isn’t about the orgasm.” And Joe immediately clapped his hands together loudly, making both you and Izzy jump slightly. He seemed incredibly pleased as he sat back in the armchair, rubbing his hands together before he pointed a quick finger at you.

“I’m going to prove you wrong.”

A startled laugh escaped you as you and Izzy shared a look.

“All right, good luck mate.”

This time, it was Joe’s turn to scoff, and that smug little smile from before made its return.

“Won’t need it. You just wait.”

You looked at each other for a moment, and you didn’t trust his confident bearing one bit, but were too stubborn to let your own satisfied smile fade.

“Fine.” you said challengingly.

Joe was wrong.

“Fine.” Joe copied.

So wrong.

---

The Taglisted

@alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @demonsanddemogorgons

@djoseph-quinn, @dolcevit4, @eddies-puppet, @emma-munson, @emotionaldreamer

@everythinghasafacee, @figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby, @gri959, @hanahkatexo

@hazelenys, @imjustjen14, @jewellethief, @joesquinns, @keikoraven

@kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @mandyjo8719, @mexicanfolklore, @munsonluvrr

@munson-mjstan, @munsonssweets, @nadixq, @niallersfreckles, @notverywise

@pepperstories, @phyllosilicate-s, @prettiestboyreid, @readergf, @royale1803

@skulliecadaver-blog, @sherrylyn0628, @shizlac, @solzi1420, @songforeddiemunson

@sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle, @tlclick73, @werepartnersnow

@witchwolflea, @yunirgo

add yourself

#joe quinn #joseph quinn #joe quinn x reader #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn fanfic #joe quinn fanfic #joe quinn x you #joseph quinn x you #joe quinn fanfiction #joseph quinn fanfiction #joe quinn x Y/N #joseph quinn x Y/N #icallhimjoey #bet!joe #double or nothing #all the aces

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eldritchpotato · 3 months ago

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First Contact

You're a renowned xenobiologist doing research on a remote planet. When quarantine is breached and you come face to face with some of the local fauna your life might never be the same, this new species has found the perfect home.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5.

Content Warning: alien smut, symbiotic/parasitic creature, female reader, corruption, brainwashing, body transformation, lactation, orgasm denial, oviposition, bad ending?

You weren't really sure what had happened until you got back to the station. The alarm still blared which was honestly more irritating than the breach of your suit.

Slamming the alarm off you kicked free of your space suit and held it up for inspection. The tear wasn’t large, maybe the width of your palm, but definitely enough to start losing oxygen quickly. It was lucky you were close to the base.

Then it moved, a shriek leaving your lips as you dropped it. Oh fuck, fuck fucking fuck there was something in your suit.

Holding your breath you waited, thankfully anything that could survive out there would be suffocated by the oxen-rich facility. When it stopped moving you slipped your oversized gloves back on and tentatively got closed.

Beyond the difference in atmosphere and the changes that caused, neither the fauna nor flora of this planet were abnormally dangerous. But you could never be too careful.

Slowly you picked up your space suit, trying to peek through the collar to see whatever it was. It promptly jumped right for you, warm grasping tendrils grabbing onto your head as it skittered for purchase. It was small and grey, oddly sticky and warm.

That didn’t stop you from slapping the thing off your face as hard as you could.

By the time you stumbled back and wiped your face the thing was nowhere to be seen.

“Oh fuck me,” you muttered, you were gonna be in so much trouble for this. But before you had the chance to initiate quarantine and the lecture from your boss that would follow it landed on your lower back.

You just managed to glimpse it slipping down your pants with an utterly odd flexibility in the reflection of the window before your fingers reached it. You scrambled to unbutton your pants, some old human saying about ants ringing through your head.

There were several things you were worried about, allergies, toxins, bites, stings, bacteria, viruses. So many reasons why you needed to get as far away from this thing as possible. It slipped down in an utterly invasive manner only to wiggle forward and press itself against your pussy was… well you didn’t even know how to react to something like that.

You froze like a statue at the sheer strangeness of it all. A suction against your clit jolted you into action to kick your pants off. But it was fast, faster than you could have predicted, its tendrils wrapping around your thighs, attaching itself to your body.

Sheer manic made you grab it, its coils only tightening around you in response, the suction on your clit becoming painful. You could feel something moving, its mouth maybe?

You tugged again, but it didn’t budge, the pain that shot through your clit dissuaded you from trying again. If you pulled on it, it pulled right back on your clit.

Horror thrummed through you. Nothing could have prepared you for this. This… thing was attached to your most sensitive area. How the fuck were you supposed to get it off?

It didn’t hurt, if anything maybe the suction was a little… nice. But you couldn’t very well go about your day with this thing suctioned to your body. It clung to you, covering your vulva like underwear though its soft tail dangled between your legs.

It didn’t look strong, but it was. You weren’t particularly keen on just waiting for it to finish whatever it was doing and detaching, because what the fuck was it doing?

Every muscle in your body tensed as something began to push inside you, both in your pussy and ass. Instinctively grabbing the creature only made it speed up, trusting some part of itself inside your body. It didn’t hurt, not really, it was just…

“What the fuck,” you muttered, feeling far more full than you ever had before.

The worst part was that it didn’t feel entirely bad. The strange tingling feeling was quickly leaning more towards arousal. Helplessly your clit throbbed, the creature sucked.

You nearly fell over trying to sit down as the thing continued to… stimulate you.

It was impossible not to brace for something but nothing came. It just… rhythmically sucked on your throbbing clit, some part of it buried inside you. It was shocking how turned on you were. You were a well-respected scientist, no one could ever know about… this.

Slowly you stood, grateful that the thing did not impact your range of motion. Gently you brought your fingers down, attempting to wedge them between the creature and your skin. Its strange fleshy tendrils tightened around your hips almost in warning.

“Okay, not gonna do that then,” you sighed with a shake of your head.

Feeling somewhat in shock you headed for medical to get a scan done. At the very least you could figure out what this thing was doing and hopefully maybe how to remove it. Your bare feet pattered on the cool metal, the creature sucking on your clit happily the whole way there.

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dreamlandcreations · 5 months ago

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Imagine realising early on who Halbrand/Annatar is but keeping quiet about it...

Imagine realising early on who Halbrand/Annatar is but keeping quiet about it while working on a little side-project of your own in secret and learning from what he discovers with Celebrimbor about the power of the unseen world...

You kept reminding yourself that you needed the rings, it was the right decision. Yet you felt guilty about letting him play Celebrimbor. Unfortunately, his pride and ambition made him an easy target, his mind was completely under the influence of Halbrand before you could do anything about it. All you could do now is finish the chains that would bind a being like Sauron so your people would have any chance at defeating him. And anyway, you figured by her reaction to Halbrand's departure that Galadriel knew and she failed to tell any of you, so she it is at least partially her fault.

There was no one you could trust but you needed more mithril, so you volunteered to deal with the dwarves when the shipment was late. After the king's refusal you had no choice but to confine in Durin and Disa on some level, only promising that you are certain you can stop the source of the problem with this little help from them.

It wasn't a lie exactly, neither was telling Annatar that the king refused to provide more mithril, you even admitted you got a little amount from the prince in secret so you could earn the deceiver's trust, or at least a blind eye to your intentions for a while.

The ungrateful reaction was exactly what you were expecting from Galadriel and Celebrimbor, even Gil Galad's anger didn't come as a surprise. Because after succeeding with your plan, you quickly hid the rings and destroyed every bit of knowledge about making them, and on top of that you refused to give up the knowledge about how you made the shackles that could bind Sauron's powers.

Galadriel was adamant to kill him, to which you reminded her that destroying his physical body would only release him. She did not take the comment well.

Elrond somehow convinced her that you were right. He also came up with the plan that a prison should be built for your enemy, with this idea yet again trying to pressure you to participate in that, at least by sharing how to make it so that it would actually hold him.

At your repeated refusal the High King ordered the building of a remote prison that you will have to guard until you make it possible to build a proper one.

So much for gratitude. Now you are punished with spending eternity with the megalomaniacal deceiver you deceived. Sounds wonderful. You have half the mind to just let him out to make them deal with him as they see fit...

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notanactressyayy · 9 months ago

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⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭'𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡

pairing . Natasha Romanoff x fem! reader

summary . two girls with a pure heart and the will to do the best things in the world, but forced to do the one they would never dream of doing.

warnings . red room, suicidal thoughts (lmk if i have to add more.)

notes . i'm sick, got a really bad flu — and those are somehow the only times i get inspiration to write (also when depressed <3) this one goes through red room era, so both Nat and reader are little. english is not my first language (🇧🇷) so i apologize for any spelling errors.

divider credits: @iwonbin, @iluvrei

your 'parents' had left. they went to the store, so the house was all yours. Natasha was curled up on the corner of the couch, watching intently the movie playing on the television screen. her eyebrows were slightly furrowed, eyes narrowing at the screen. you could tell she wasn't watching the movie. she was paying attention to the actors performance, how they expressed their emotion, how they behaved in front of the cameras.

"you'd want to be an actress?" you ask softly, making her jump slightly, breaking her trance.

"maybe." she simply replies, shrugging her shoulders. she sighs and leans back against the backrest, grabbing the remote and fidgeting with it. "you?"

"i think it would be fun." you giggle, eyebrows raising as a bunch of little scenarios played on your head. "not necessarily a movie star. just.. be able to show people how i actually feel, you know?"

Natasha hums, a small smile tugging on her lips. it was the one job that was the complete opposite from your daily life — that was what being a spy was like, hide your emotions, hide from people, hide hide hide. from everything. absolutely no one knew you — neither you did, since you had to change identities every year or so.

"i think, you could do absolutely anything you ever want to do." she says, pointing her finger at you. "if you become an actress, i will be in your every premiere, watch all your interviews, and be the first one to buy the tickets for your movies,"

you laugh, playfully slapping her finger away. "you smartass,"

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

silence filled the house as everybody went to sleep, except for you and Natasha, of course. you always stayed awake late, even if one of the rules was go to sleep at 8:30pm. you both jumped out of bed quietly and hurried to open the blinds, so you could see the starry sky.

"do they really think we're asleep?" you inquire with a smirk, sitting down on the cold tile floor and patting the space between your legs.

Natasha sits down with you and carefully leans her weight against you, her head on your chest. "if you keep shouting like that they might figure it out."

you shake your head at her sarcasm and chuckle. your eyes drift to her hair, the pink strands illuminated by the moonlight. you carefully grab a few of them and begin braiding them. "when are you going to Ohio?"

and when she was about to relax, you ask the most inconvenient question in the most inconvenient time. why did you have to bring up that? Ohio was not a mission like this one — she'd meet other widows, future widows, you weren't gonna be there. and she didn't want to be away from you.

you notice how she stays silent, and decide not to push. you finish the two little braids on her short hair and coaxes her head back to your chest, arms wrapping around her.

"do you think," Natasha begins, quietly, as if this was a topic she'd like to avoid. she gulps, eyes locked on the twinkling stars. "do you think we would be happier if we weren't here?"

the question wasn't direct, but you understood perfectly. being a normal girl meant never being in the red room, which meant never meeting each other. that was a tough one, but the answer was obvious.

"yeah," you nod, shrugging, pondering. "you know, Natalia? i think that even if we were born in different families, somehow the universe would find a way for us to meet."

she smiles, feeling a warm, fuzzy feeling in her chest. something rare. something that didn't happen often. it quickly faded, but she appreciated that. "i hope so. because right now? i'd throw myself down this window if i could."

"so would i," you chuckle humorlessly. the life of a widow would never end up with joy, you both knew what you were submitted to.

she shifts her body, pulling her head back a little to look in your eyes. she didn't have to speak for you to understand. gratitude, longing, pain. "moya malenkaya zvezdochka, (my little star),"

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

"we're leaving!" you yell, a smile on your face as you watched Natasha finish adjusting her white dress. she wore black chucks and her hair was down. out of every style she ever played, this was the one you most liked. dresses.

"where are you going?" your 'mom' asks, her smile widening as she sees her daughters all dressed up.

"just riding our bikes!" you answer, putting your hair up on a ponytail and putting your shoes on. "we're not going too far, promise!"

"okay! come back before five!" the woman answers as you run out of the house, grabbing your bikes and hopping on them.

"—back before five," Natasha mimicks her with a silly face and a high pitched voice, coaxing a laugh out of you. "we know mom. you tell us that every freaking day."

and with that, you both go pedalling to downtown, which was yes, a little too far from home. Italy was very beautiful, sunny, full of joyful people around. sometimes you hated that. Natasha suddenly stops as you pass through a little flower shop. it was tiny, and the grandpa behind the counter seemed kind.

"would Natalia like to receive a flower bouquet today?" you try a rough voice, which made her laugh. you hop out of the bike and run in the store.

"ciao, bambina! (hi, little one!)" the man exclaims, his happiness almost surprising you.

"hey!" you match his good humor and point at a colorful bouquet on a basket. "how much for these?"

"these are 50 euros, but for you, young lady, i can make.. 49!" he laughs, grabbing the bouquet and carefully handing it to you.

you raise an eyebrow at the joke, grabbing the coins from your pocket and placing them on the counter. after he counts everything, you don't even say goodbye before running to Natasha again.

"here you go, malyshka, (sweetheart)," you politely bow and hand her the flowers, feigning chivalry. it seemed stupid, but her smile seemed way too genuine for your liking.

she grabs the bouquet and smell the flowers, a small tear runs down her cheek, which she quickly wipes away. "thank you,"

you nod, a little heat creeping up your cheeks. you would never receive flowers, neither from a romantic partner, nor a relative — that was for sure, so you did it, even if it wasn't real.

oh, how much she wanted to say the three forbidden words right now.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

it was raining, heavily.

the time was approaching. the time..

the time for the Sicily mission was almost over. general Dreykov, along with his soldiers would soon be there to retreat you, just like the police. it was always like that.

"come on!" Natasha calls, extending her hand for you as she steps out of the house. "we got to go,"

"gonna get a cold, Natalia," you laugh, grabbing her hand and stepping out as well. you immediately got drenched in water, shivering from the coldness.

"are you scared?" she mocks, shaking her head.

pink droplets of pink hair dye fell down the concrete ground, a colorful contrast of what it used to be. her hair would soon be blue. you didn't like that.

"where are we going?" you ask, running with Natasha as she took off the yard, leaving the household.

"anywhere," she yells back to you, running across the sidewalk, as you followed behind. you rolled your eyes slightly, shrugging.

as you ran, the cacophony of the city could soon be heard. probably your parents would realize you weren't home and call the cops or something. but that didn't matter. not when you were both trained spies. you found a small park — which was empty due the rain — and sat on one of the benches.

"i don't know if we'll meet again after this," you say quietly, finger traveling upwards to tuck a strand of pink behind her ear. "you're going to America. i'm returning to Asia. and the chance of us being paired up again is so small—"

"i love you," she interrupts, voice weak and almost tired. "gosh, i always wanted to tell you that."

your eyes widen, a mixture of foreign emotions filling your being at her confession. "i love you, too,"

"when we grow up, i'll marry you." she smiles, scooting closer. "and we'll live a happy life. we'll have a picket fence and a birdhouse. we'll have a cat and a dog and probably adopt a kid,"

tears run down your cheeks, blending with the rain droplets. you nod, wrapping your arms tightly around her neck, a hug she quickly returned.

"chertovski nespravedlivyy mir, (goddamn unfair world,)" you murmur against her skin, pulling back to look into her eyes.

"it is," she agrees, placing her palm on your cheek. "it's ironic. i'm glad you're here with me. but i don't want you to. i don't want either of us to be here."

"but we are," you whisper, taking a quick glance to the people around, seeing their gaze almost burning you. "that's how life is, i guess."

and with that, you and Natasha lost each other — having to cling to the memories, to the small comfort they brought.

because a widow never had a happy ending.

to be continued..?

#natasha marvel #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanov #notanactressyayy #marvel incorrect quotes #natasha x y/n #red room #marvel #natasha romanoff soft smut #natasha x you

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maybege · 8 months ago

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The App - Part 2

Summary: You know who your perfect-match alpha is and it is not the guy from The App.

Pairing: alpha!Boba Fett x fem!omega!Reader

Wordcount: 11.0k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: Modern AU, A/B/O dynamics (scenting, knotting, etc.), older man/younger woman, implied age gap, explicit sexual content, unprotected sexual intercourse, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, slight (loving) degradation, semi-public sex, creampies, size kink, fluff fluff and more fluff

So … this second part kind of exploded which is why it took me so long to actually finish it lol but I hope the wait will have been worth it for you because ngl I am just swooning over alpha!Boba. Also I placed a little Easter Egg in here for another upcoming fic so bonus points to anyone who finds it 👀 Either way, I hope you enjoy it. Let me know what you think in a comment or a reblog!

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

It was two weeks – and no phone call – later, that you decided to take matters into your own (nervously trembling) hands.

Boba thought he didn’t have to call you? Great. But you would not let him think that you were not interested, because you were. He was the one who had shown you what it could feel like to be loved by him and you would not let him ghost you without any explanation.

And if you so happened to want to give Josh back his jacket he had forgotten at your place and you needed to visit him at work for that? Well, then it would just be the most fitting coincidence if Boba was there too.

It was your luck that the receptionist, Peggy, recognized you from the few times you had visited Josh at work and simply waved you through to the elevators. No questions asked.

The doors slid open and you were faced with an empty floor and your heart plummeted. You stepped outside, letting your eyes roam over the open office space. But except for a few people you did not recognise, no one was there.

Shit. So much for coincidentally crossing Boba’s path.

You gripped the jacket tighter, fighting the insecure thoughts in your brain. So Josh was not here. That still meant you could leave the jacket and maybe write a quick note for Boba, just to let him know you were here and open to talk.

Maybe it was better this way. What were you going to say when you met Boba anyway? “Hi, sorry to show up unannounced but you said you would call and you didn’t and I’d very much like for you to call me.”? Yeah, no, that would not do.

Josh’s desk was as empty as always, particularly neat and void of anything that would make it seem remotely personal. You scoffed. How The App could have presumed you were the perfect match, you would never understand. You only regretted it had taken so long for you to see it.

You shifted on your feet, unease filling you at the thought when your eyes fell to the office at the end of the room. Just a few desks separated you from the glass-walled office that Boba inhabited during his work days. And that Boba was sitting in, right now, his phone by his ear.

It seemed he had not noticed you yet but your heart started racing all the same. This was your chance, this was the moment you had to use or else you would beat yourself up over it forever. This could give you clarity.

Taking a deep breath, you set a determined pace to the office, only to falter when he suddenly looked at you. You could not hear what he was saying but you could see the way his entire body shifted. How he paused his words, his eyes running over your form before hanging up, his hand gripping the phone tightly.

You opened the door without knocking and Boba stood up, his eyes still on you. He wore a black suit and with the way it clung to his broad frame, you were convinced that it had been tailored just for him.

“Hi,” you said breathlessly, “Is Josh here?”

“No,” he said, still standing behind his desk, “He is gone for lunch. They all are.”

“Oh,” you said dumbly, “Okay.”

Neither of you moved.

“I, uh, I brought his jacket,” you said, holding up the piece of clothing as if he would not believe you otherwise.

“I can see that.”

“I, uh, can I leave that here?”

“No.”

You faltered, “No?”

“I mean, you can, just not in my office, please,” he said, stepping around his desk. You could not help but swallow, trying to brace yourself for his proximity. His words did not seem inviting but there was something in his scent, something in his eyes, that had you hoping still.

So you took a step forward, a step closer, and you could see his hand flex and his jaw twitch. His eyes darkened and then he was in front of you, his chest brushing against yours and it was all you could do not to lean into him and beg him to scent you again.

Stars, did you want him to scent you again.

“Don’t you want to know why?”

At this point, you could not have cared less about Josh’s stupid jacket but there was no way you would not use it as a reason to stay. Even if it was just for a minute, for a second, longer in his presence.

“Why?” you breathed, taking in his scent, eyes already half-hooded at the familiar smoky scent.

“Because I don’t want anyone’s scent in here but yours,” he answered, just as quietly, “Omega.”

Omega is not an insult, it is a love confession.

The blood was thrumming in your veins and you wanted to tell him everything. You wanted to tell him you loved him, you were pretty sure you did. And you wanted to ask him to scent you. And you wanted to tell him about how he was right, that Josh was a horrible match and The App was wrong and maybe he was your match.

No, not maybe. He looked at you so softly, so tenderly, it confirmed what your heart had known all along. He was your match.

But all you got out was a helpless whisper, “Alpha.”

As if it was even possible, his eyes got more intense, boring into yours as if to say I know.

“You did not call,” you said, almost accusatory as you watched his fingers brush over the back of your hand, “I thought maybe – maybe you don’t want me.”

“There is no universe in which I do not want you,” he murmured, his nose brushing your temple and his hand wrapping around yours, “I wanted to give you time. I didn’t … want to force you into something you might not be ready for.”

“I had no way to contact you,” you whispered, “I was so stupid, I just deleted all the groups when I broke it off with Josh and – what?”

“Nothing,” Boba said innocently but when you looked up you could see his mouth twitch in a suppressed grin.

“That’s not nothing,” you pointed out, narrowing your eyes in suspicion.

“I didn’t know you had broken off things with him,” Boba stated, his smile widening, “Josh may have announced that he was the one who ended things.”

Say what now?

Your displeasure only grew because Boba chuckled again, a deep rumble in his chest that made you feel all warm and tingly and you leant into him, effectively hiding your frown. It was not that you particularly cared about Josh or how the world would see the end of your relationship. But hearing that he was evidently too ashamed to tell the truth about the end of your relationship just made you angrier because it showed the kind of person he had been all along. And you had been too blind to see it.

“I knew it was a lie all along,” he assured you quietly, his warm hand running down your back, “No alpha in their right mind would ever let you go. And I am pretty sure most of the others thought so too.”

“I don’t care what they think,” you answered truthfully and looked up at him. He was so close this way and you could see that he must have shaved this morning because the stubble was almost non-existent and you wondered if you could still feel it if he were to kiss you. “I only care what you think.”

“I think,” he murmured, his breath mingling with yours, “You should get that stinking jacket out of here and then come back so I can kiss you, omega.”

“You want to kiss me?”

You hated how surprised you sounded, how eager, but Boba did not make fun of you. His face looked dead serious and your heart skipped a beat. This man wanted to kiss you!

“Actually,” he said, straightening up and looking to the elevator where a few employees had come back from their break. You did not recognize them but you knew it meant it would not be long until familiar faces returned from their break. And you did not want to see them. “Did you have lunch yet?”

You shook your head.

“Let me take you out, then,” he suggested, seeming as put together and in control as always as he quickly went over to his computer and typed something, “Italian sound good?”

The smile appeared on its own on your lips and you felt like your feet no longer touched the ground, you were that happy.

“Italian sounds great.”

There was something to be said about Boba leading you through the city with his hand on your lower back like it belonged there. Like you belonged next to each other.

“Table for two,” he had told the maître d’ at a fancy-looking place you never would have considered for lunch. Suddenly you found yourself grateful for the fact that you had dug out your most beautiful winter dress for the day and the boots you had spent a whole movie on cleaning so they looked brand new.

You were sat at a slim booth, facing each other and your heart skipped a beat when you crossed your legs and your foot accidentally brushed against his slacks. You were so close.

Boba rumbled, eyes dark while he looked you over, his gaze lingering suspiciously long on your neckline that dipped a bit lower than what you usually wore. “Thank you for letting me take you out,” the alpha said, “I really appreciate getting to spend time with you.”

“I enjoy spending time with you, too,” you mumbled, avoiding his intense gaze by folding open the menu, “Though I wouldn’t have expected it when I first met you.”

The laugh he let out made your heart flutter (He sounded so happy!). “No, I hadn’t suspected it either,” he admitted, “If I recall I called myself an old man no one would ever want that day.”

“You are not that old!” the protest slipped off your tongue immediately and you felt your cheeks burn when he raised his eyebrow in a challenge.

“I am, though,” he said without any heat, “But at least I can say that it makes me better at some things.”

“Like what?”

He leant forward, his voice dropping to a low rumble that you felt reverberating in your chest, “Like I am better at making you come than all these boys on that app these days.”

All air left your lungs in a woosh and you swallowed harshly, trying to get your bearing and ignoring the sudden urge to press your thighs together. Or open them for him. Both sounded good at this point.

“Oh,” you breathed, your foot landing against his calf. It did not turn into anything sexual per se but the contact was enough to have your heart skip a beat. The tension was palpable between you and you wondered how you could have ever thought he was unbearable when he could make you flustered this easily.

“You probably are,” you replied quietly, your cheeks burning at your confession, “I have never felt like this with anyone. So … so on edge.”

“On edge, hm?” he smirked, leaning even closer, “I really wish I could sit next to you, omega, I want to see how close I can get you by just teasing that scent gland of yours.”

“Me too,” you whispered, taking a sip of your wine in the hopes of cooling down, “I really want you to scent me again.”

Boba did not say anything but demonstratively put his hand on the table palm facing up and open. You followed his silent instructions and put your hand in his, immediately enjoying the gentle skin-to-skin contact.

His thumb brushed over your wrist and your entire body shuddered. This was what you needed.

“Better?” he asked, his voice deep as his thumb carefully ran over your scent gland over and over again. The ones on the wrists were not as sensitive as the one on your neck, they never were, but it was enough, still, to have him gently scent you out here in the open for anyone to see.

You did not know what surprised you more: How much your body seemed to crave his touch or how he did not seem to mind to scent you in public. Your previous partner had always refused to actually scent you – it was just not something they wanted to do. But here was Boba, looking at you with so much tenderness and scenting you in plain sight. Not ashamed of you in the least.

“What do you want?”

I want you to fuck me.

“To eat,” he added with a mischievous glint in his eyes, obviously recognizing the needy look in your eyes, “Because that waiter looks like he is ready to come over and I know how nervous you get about ordering.”

Your heart grew in size. He knew you so well, this quiet man who seemed to notice all the things you needed and was not afraid to point them out to you. But that realization did not help you when it came to the ache between your legs because he knew you so well and you just wanted to have him in your bed to try out all the fantasies your head could come up with.

“The – the pasta,” you finally found your words, your heartbeat picking up at the thought that maybe he would stop scenting you now that a witness would be here, “Please don’t let me go, alpha.”

“Never,” he vowed, “The ravioli, you mean?” he guessed, coaxing another sigh out of you when the pad of his calloused thumb drew a circle over your wrist, “With the cherry tomatoes and the basil reduction?”

You nodded with your eyes closed, completely letting yourself enjoy the way he touched you, the way he caressed you. “Yes, that one.”

The waiter came by and Boba ordered for you both, still holding your hand and the waiter did not even spare a glance at the way he touched you. You had spent so many years afraid of what the world would think when you were so obviously treated as an omega in a relationship. Spoiler alert: They did not care. And it was glorious.

“Now only one question remains,” Boba said with a smile when your food arrived, “Can I take you out for dinner sometime? On a proper date?”

A few days later, a knock on your door drove you into a flurry. You counted until six in your head before you opened the door, pretending like you had not waited in the hallway for ages for him to show up. Not because he was late, no, Boba Fett was punctual as always, but because you could not wait for this evening to start.

This date today was something you had looked forward to ever since he had called you and officially asked you out. (“There is that lovely little place down by the river,” he had said, “My friend owns it and I could get us a table with the best view. What do you think?”)

Now, Boba Fett was standing in your doorway, looking even more handsome than usual, in dark slacks and a white button-down with the top button undone, revealing a little bit more of his chest. He looked serious, just as much preoccupied with looming at you as you were with looking at him. Which meant that it took both of you a moment to realise that he was holding a colourful bouquet of flowers in his hand.

“Forgive my distraction,” he said, “You look stunning.” He held up the flowers, their scent floating between the two of you, “Here. For you.”

You were sure the smile on your lips could not get any brighter as you accepted them, your fingers brushing, “Thank you. Let me get them in some water. Wanna come inside?”

He hummed, following you into your tiny and cluttered apartment.

You tried not to look back at him and gauge his reactions. You liked to describe your apartment as cosy and homey and, yes, maybe a teeny tiny bit cramped. You had never been one for the minimalistic way of life and your apartment reflected that. There were pictures and books and trinkets everywhere, your fridge was covered in magnets from your travels and postcards from your friends and family.

It was no surprise, in hindsight, that Josh had not liked your place at all and he had not shied away to articulate that out loud. Several times, in fact, until you had just resigned yourself to the fact that you would stay over at his place and your souvenirs would have to live the rest of their lives in storage boxes.

But this was your home. It was you. Which is why it was more important than anything to you that Boba liked it.

Boba was too good a man to criticize your place openly, you knew that. But you still could not resist glancing at his broad form in the living room while you filled the vase with water.

“What do you think?” you asked, hoping to hide your nervous undertone when you set the vase down on your kitchen table. You could not wait to wake up each morning and be greeted with the sight of the flowers your favourite alpha had gotten for you.

“Feels like a home,” he said, running his fingers over a stack of books that had no space in the bookcase, “Feels like you.”

His words were soft-spoken and sincere and you watched as his gaze roamed over your apartment. The couch with the sunk-in cushions where you always sat, the mess of books and notepads and remotes on your coffee table, all pulled together by the singular scented candle you treated yourself to once in a while. The walls were covered with pictures and prints of your travels (or the places you wanted to travel to) and your friends and family peppered in between.

It did feel like you. And when he said it, it sounded like a compliment.

“Thank you, alpha.”

His head shot up and, in his eyes, you could see the thoughts he had. If calling someone omega was a love confession, what did it mean to him to be called alpha?

He crossed the few steps that were between you before he cupped your face in his hands and pulled you in for a kiss. It was soft and gentle and so full of love it made your heart swell. His scent was in your nose and the stubble on his jaw rubbed over your skin, making you want him even closer.

“Let’s go, omega,” he whispered against your mouth, “Or else we will be late and Paz will have my head.”

“If you say so,” you grinned, “Lead the way, alpha.”

Hours later, you still were not ready to say goodbye.

You had talked and flirted and laughed and eaten and now, Boba had driven you home, parking a few blocks away with the insistence that he should walk you home. You had accepted with a smile.

“So,” he started, casually walking alongside you, “How was it for a first date?”

You hummed, pretending to mull over your answer as if it weren’t incredibly obvious. The streetlights illuminated the sharp lines of his face, the profile of his nose, his full lips, and the twinkle in his eyes as he glanced at you like he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“It could have been worse,” you teased him, “I don’t think it was the worst first date I have ever been on.”

Boba chuckled, coming to a stop in front of an entryway that looked like yours. Your heart fell at the thought of having to leave him. If it were up to you, this night could go on forever.

“Not the worst first date,” he quoted you, his grin lighting up his whole face, “I count that as a win. Besides,” he turned, facing you, “The most important thing is whether you would go out with me again. What do you think?”

“I would,” you murmured, entirely too fixated on how close he was and if you could get him to kiss you again, “Of course, I would, Boba.”

The silence between you two was comfortable but you could not feel like time was running away from you two. So you blurted out the first thing you could think of.

“Do you want to come up for a coffee?”

“You don’t drink coffee,” he reminded you with a little smile, “You told me that tonight, remember?”

“Oh,” you had forgotten about that, “You know I wasn’t really asking you up for a coffee, right?”

“Hm,” he said, stepping closer to you and you did not shy away. His eyes roamed over your form. His hands were still in his pockets and he was looming over you, his breath washing over your face. “You know there is nothing I would love more than to come up for … not coffee”, he winked and you smiled, “But this is our first date and I – I want to do this right and proper. So, no coffee tonight, little one.”

“Oh well,” you pouted, your hand reaching out to tug his hand out of his pocket. Boba smiled and followed your lead, his hands leaving his pockets and landing on your lower back, pulling you against him. “Your good night kiss will have to make up for that disappointment then.”

His nose brushed against yours and the familiar excitement built up again in your belly at the prospect of kissing him. “I guess I will have to work really hard for it,” he joked quietly before he closed the distance between you.

The kiss started soft and gentle, his mouth moving against yours, slowly coaxing you open. But it did not take long before you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him into you. It did not take long before his tongue mingled with yours, his teeth brushing over your bottom lip and one of his hands wandering to your ass, slightly squeezing.

It was when the slightest of moans left your lips that he pulled away from you, your body instantly missing his touch.

“Dinner, then?” Boba asked, his breathing slightly laboured, “Next week?”

You did not make it to dinner.

And you hated yourself for it.

But whatever flu had caught you, it had caught you good and as you drafted the text to Boba, cancelling the dinner date you had spent the last week looking forward to, you felt like crying out of pure frustration. But there was no way you were able to leave your apartment today.

So you did the only thing you could. You planted yourself on the couch, curled up with a heated blanket and too many mugs of tea and set your timer to when you could take the next painkiller to keep the migraine at bay. You could not even focus on the old sitcom that you had put on in the background, instead just dozing on and off and trying to find a position that did not make every single muscle in your body ache.

It felt absolutely miserable.

A knock on your door got you up and you trudged to the door, hoping that it was just one of your neighbours with a package that got misdelivered. Stars knew you weren't up to anything else.

“Boba,” you mumbled, completely confused at the sight in front of you, “Did – did you not get my text?”

He stood in front of you, dressed in jeans and a shirt made from a material so soft, your fingers itched to touch it. “I did,” he confirmed, holding up a white plastic bag that smelled divine, “So I brought you some soup.”

That was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for you.

You wanted to tell him that but somehow, your tongue refused to move and the words would not leave your mouth. You just stared at him, tears brimming in your eyes as you looked at this alpha who did not seem to be angry at you at all for ruining his plans.

“Will you let me come inside?” his voice was gentle and caring, “I can heat up the soup and make you some tea. And then I can get out of your hair and let you rest.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” you found your voice again, happy that you managed to express at least this one thought, stepping aside to let him in, “Th-thank you for coming, alpha.”

You watched as he set the food down in the kitchen before coming into the living room, taking in the damage. The pity was clear in his eyes and you felt a little ashamed at him seeing you so out of control. Everything was a mess and there were used tissues lying everywhere, your laundry had not been done for a week and the dishes were piling up in your sink. Not to mention that you had not managed to gather the strength to take out the trash which was why your kitchen was currently a No Zone for you.

But none of that seemed to interest him.

“Have you been sleeping on the couch?” he asked finally, his brows furrowed as he took in the haphazardly thrown blankets on the sofa.

You shrugged, tugging on your sleeves. You would have to change your shirt soon, the fabric felt unusually scratchy today and it made you want to crawl out of your skin. ”The bed feels cold,” you tried to explain, “And – and the pillows don’t sit right. And I’m too sick to – “

“Make a nest,” Boba realised, his eyes softening, “You’ve been needing a nest all this time, ‘mega?”

You nodded, avoiding his eyes and bracing yourself for the rejection that you would inevitably see in them. So far, Boba had proven different from Josh in every way, different from all the other alphas in every way. And while you knew that your brain was most probably playing tricks on you, you felt too miserable to stop the intrusive thoughts that tried to tell you that this would be the point where he realised that being with an omega – being with you – would be too much work.

“Do you want me to help?”

Your head shot up and you were unable to hide the surprise on your face. But the look on his face was sincere as he looked at you, expecting your answer.

This was one of those moments, you realized, where you could accept what the universe – Boba – offered you. Even if you had never experienced it before. Careful not to jostle your head too much, you nodded and made your way to your bedroom, hearing his footsteps behind you.

The curtains were still drawn but with how bright it was outside, one could still see the half-finish nest you had attempted to build on your bed. It just looked sad now, the twisted blanket and the pillows you had half-heartedly thrown on top of it.

But with Boba behind you, it just felt incomplete and you realized what you had been missing. “I – I want it a little bigger.”

“How much bigger?”

Big enough for you to join me.

But the words remained unspoken as you focused on pulling the blankets apart, getting a bigger circle shape to fill out the entire space your mattress offered. If you pulled it just this way, then you could have –

“Do you have some extra blankets I should get you?” Boba asked from where he had been standing on the opposite side of the bed, carefully copying your movements. You liked the look of his big hands touching the materials of your nest, colouring them in his scent. Maybe, if you were lucky, he would stay long enough that his scent lingered even after he left.

You nodded, pointing to the closet next to the door where you stashed your extra pillows and blankets. The kinds that were always freshly washed and soft enough that you endured them even in your heat. Now, you felt hot too, but in a sick kind of way and your head was thrumming with pain.

Deep down, you knew you should rest. You knew it would not be long until the dizziness set in or the itchiness of the fabric made you want to cry. But Boba was there and he had seen the mess and you did not – you swallowed harshly, your hands starting to tremble – you could not bear if he left now.

“Omega,” Boba rumbled upon his return, clearly having noticed your distress, and your hands stilled at the strict tone in his voice, “Let me take care of this.”

“Don’t want you to work,” you mumbled as you pushed the circle a little wider, “I promise I'm not that much work.” You looked up at him, your voice earnest and your eyes tearing up and you cursed yourself for how weak Josh had made you, how weak you felt at having to face the fact that Boba Fett meant more to you than you had wanted to admit.

His face fell at your words and you could feel the tears threatening to spill.

The blankets fell into the space of your nest, freshly washed and smiling of your favourite laundry detergent. But you could not focus on them now. Not when he made his way around the bed to you until he was right in front of you, the heat of his body seeping into yours.

“Omega,” he whispered, his hands cupping your face. They felt cool against your skin and sighed in relief, your eyes closing, “You are sick, my omega,” he repeated, “You are not too much work. I want to help you. Please, lie down in your nest and let me help. Let me take care of you.”

You hesitated for a second, the demons in your head still whispering about whether or not he was telling the truth. But one look in his warm eyes and you knew he was and you knew you could trust him.

Boba only let go of you once you nodded, pressing a kiss to your forehead before helping you straighten out the blankets. “Here is what we are going to do,” he said, his voice warm and gentle, “I will help you make the nest and then you will lie down and take a nap, okay?”

“And you?” you asked unsure, fluffing a pillow in the corner, already imagining yourself and Boba lying down right there.

“I will take care of a few things and then we will see what you need.”

His voice did not leave much room for protest and if you were honest with yourself, you did not want to protest either. Taking a nap in your nest sounded like a dream and having Boba close by? That was even better.

It did not take long after that before your nest truly looked like your nest. The blankets and pillows were arranged in a perfect circle, high enough for you to lean against them and your favourite blanket was folded inside, too, ready to cover you whenever you needed.

“I will leave you to it, omega,” Boba murmured, his hand gently running over your back before disappearing into the hallway.

Only after you heard him cluttering around somewhere, did you take off your leggings, feeling positive that he would not leave. After a bit of thinking, you took off your panties too. You changed into your sleep shirt, the one thing that felt soft against your skin and it was long enough to cover your ass, too. The only things you kept from your original outfit were the fuzzy socks. Just at first until you could feel the cold leave you.

Lying down in your nest was just as glorious as you had expected and you dozed off in no time. The little sounds from the depths of your apartment and the dimmed sunlight through your curtains paired with Boba’s lingering scent on your blankets resulted in your body feeling relaxed and pliant for the first time in three days.

You did not know how much time passed but by the time you opened your eyes again, you felt much better and Boba stood by your bed.

He carefully arranged the pillows around you, making sure they were as fluffy as possible and you smiled when his hands lingered on your shoulders. “Is that okay?” he asked, “Are you comfortable?”

“Perfect,” you mumbled, reaching your hand out for him, “Do – Will you join me?”

The large man smiled, his voice still careful as he pulled the curtains closed. “I would love to, omega, what's the dress code?”

“Shoes off,” you ordered with a weak smile, “And the shirt, too. And the belt.”

He hummed and you did not have to see him to know he was smiling. You watched with interest as his hands went to the bottom of his shirt, more and more tan skin revealed to you as he pulled it over his head. It was the first time you had seen him like this and your heart skipped a beat at the thought that maybe it would not be the last time.

“Like what you see?” he joked, his hands going to his belt and you bit your lip, your eyes not leaving his body as he crawled into bed next to you. He pulled a soft blanket from somewhere, covering you both with it and you sighed, shuffling closer to him.

The alpha’s arms went around you, holding you to him so you could tuck your face into his neck, breathing in his comforting scent and enjoying the sheer touch of him against you. While the silence between you felt comfortable and you found yourself thinking that you could stay like this forever, you also could not shake the little bit of nervousness at this new position you found yourself in.

“I have never shared my nest with anyone,” you confessed into the crook of his neck, “I – I don’t know if I am doing it right.”

“It feels right, doesn’t it?” he asked you gently, his hand holding the back of your neck firmly. You closed your eyes, giving you some relief from the strain behind your eyes. His finger started moving, gently and slowly massaging the back of your neck.

He was right. It did feel right.

“If it helps, it is my first time in an omega’s nest as well,” he replied and you hummed. “No, that’s a lie,” he added after a moment of silence, his hand movement never ceasing, “I was in my mother’s nest a few times when I was very little.”

“A few times?” you asked, remembering how you had spent entire weekends as a toddler with your parents in their nest.

“I have a lot of brothers,” he revealed, “Like a ridiculous amount, really. It was sometimes a fight to get in there, you know? Not that it made me feel any less loved.”

You smiled at the thought of a young Boba toddling around with his brothers in a big nest.

“It sounds nice,” you murmured, running your hand over his chest. You focussed on the warmth of his body, the way his skin felt under your fingertips and how you could feel his heartbeat.

“It is,” you could feel him nod, “Family reunions are a nightmare though. Pure chaos.”

Your laugh got stuck in your throat when his nose brushed over your neck. His breath washed over your scent gland and you could feel how your body attuned to him.

“This is nice, too,” you mumbled, snuggling closer to him. His nose on your scent gland sent warm shivers down your spine. It was calming and made you feel safe and cosy and like you could finally rest.

“It is,” he agreed quietly, turning your body so he was on his back and you were glued to his side, “Rest now, my omega, I got you.”

It was several days of rest until you finally could breathe through your nose again. But when the rest of the flu had dissipated and you felt like you could return to life as usual and Boba asked you out to the opera, you knew it would be even better than the date you had originally missed.

The older alpha took you out to dinner first. To a fancy restaurant by the water where the waitlist was several months long. So long, in fact, that you marvelled at how he managed to get a table there. As it turned out, the small restaurant in question was owned by his friend Paz, a giant of an alpha who came out of the kitchens with a huge grin and a promise to deliver you the best meal you ever had.

And just like Boba, Paz Vizsla was an alpha who kept his word. Paired with the most delicious wine you ever had, you were served a three-course pre-theatre dinner that had you humming with delight.

But the true highlight of the night was not the strawberry pistachio tarte or the seafood pasta, no. It was the man in front of you.

Boba’s eyes never left you. He held your chair for you and had his hand on yours whenever time allowed. He looked so handsome in his black suit with a dark grey dress shirt and you found your eyes straying to the first few undone buttons that granted you a look at his chest.

Stars, you were so done for.

“You look stunning,” he complimented you, “That has to be my favourite colour on you.”

It was a dark green silk dress that was clinging to your body “in all the right places” as your friends had assured you in the group chat. And hearing Boba thinking the same things made you happier than you could have imagined.

“And you look very put together, as always,” you teased him back, leaning forward and not missing the way his eyes flashed to your neckline. If only he knew …

Your alpha smiled at you, then, and leant back in his chair like it. You watched with bated breath as he held his thick hand up and started rolling up his sleeves, revealing his tanned forearm to you. First the one, then the other and then he dared to wink at you because he knew exactly what you were thinking.

And it was exactly these filthy thoughts that got you into the mess that followed.

Because Boba had a private boy. Of course, he did.

You felt like a princess when he led you up the carpeted stairs through the gorgeous old building to a little room that was reserved just for you. It was hard to look at the steps in front of you when you were so distracted by the painted ceilings, the stucco and the giant chandeliers that, just for a second, gave you the feeling of travelling back in time. But Boba’s hand was right there to steady you, his hand squeezing yours warmly when you heisted before.

The first thing you were greeted with was a set of fancy drinks – your favourite mocktail and a scotch that was older than both of you for Boba. Only then did you take in the room.

For some reason, you had thought that the door would lead immediately to your private seats for the show. Instead, you were standing in a little reception room, furnished with a plush couch and a minibar and looked far fancier than any hotel room you had ever stayed in.

Slow music was playing from a record player and if you listened carefully, you could hear the orchestra getting ready through the thick curtain. It was cosy and private and made you feel like you were far away from everyone and everything.

You sat down on the couch, sinking into the fabric with a laugh and Boba joined you. Sitting next to you, with his legs spread and leaning back against the couch with one hand still holding his scotch, he was the picture of sex appeal. Everything about him made you hyper-aware of the arousal simmering in your core.

“What are you thinking about, little omega?” he rumbled, taking a sip of the amber liquid. You watched his throat move and swallowed with him, wanting to press your lips to his Adam's apple.

“Nothing,” you whispered, slowly leaning forward. Your heart was pounding in your chest, “Just that you haven’t kissed me yet.”

The glass of scotch landed on the side table with a clank and he turned towards you, his eyes intense. “We can't have that,” he stated, a small smile on his lips, “C’mere, love, let me remedy my mistake.”

You don’t know who moved faster but his warm hand cupped the side of your face the moment your lips met his. He tasted of scotch and something uniquely him that had you opening your mouth for his tongue.

Desire overcame you and in no time, his hand on your hip held you steady as you climbed on top of him, your knees settling on the couch on either side of his lap as you tried to get as close as possible. He was warm and solid and you just wanted – you needed – to feel him.

The fire in your core was fuelled by the low groans that left his mouth and when your hips stuttered against his and you could feel him hard against you, you wished you were anywhere else but the opera. Maybe your bedroom. Or his bedroom. Anywhere with a bed, really.

You were completely out of breath when you pulled apart. Boba had a lazy smirk on his face, his free hand trailing slowly over your neckline. He ran his finger over the silk of your dress, right over your tit, circling where you needed him most and sure enough you could feel and see your nipple pebble through the thin fabric.

“Tell me,” he rumbled, “What did you think would happen when I realised that you were not wearing a bra and that you are this close,” he hooked a single finger into the neckline, gently pulling the fabric down your skin until your chest was free to the cool air, “to showing me your pretty tits?”

“I wanted to look pretty,” you mumbled, your ears hot at him knowing how bare you were beneath this dress. You had never done anything like this but Boba – Boba brought it out in you. It made you feel a little dirty in the best way and you knew you had Boba to thank for it.

“That’s one way to say you’d like to skip straight to dessert,” he teased you and you could not help your smile. The tension did not falter though and neither did the movement of his finger circling your nipple but not quite touching it.

You wriggled your hips, trying to get closer to him.

The groan that left him had your pussy weeping.

“How long did you know?” you asked shyly, arching your back so he could touch you freely.

“When you bent over at dinner,” he revealed, his thumb finally brushing directly over your nipple, bringing it to a peak. The feather-light touch was repeated on the other side as well. “Had me rock hard in an instant, princess. I had half a mind to sit you in my lap right there so no one can see how I would bury my cock in your sweet pussy.”

“Alpha,” you breathed. His fingers tightened on your nipples and you squeaked when he gently pulled, the mixture of pain and pleasure making you whine.

“Performance doesn’t start in the next 30 minutes,” he rumbled, his mouth closing over one east and you gasped, “How about we get you out of this pretty dress and I make you come?”

“Boba!” you gasped, “You – We – we are in the opera.”

“That we are,” he agreed, lightly biting the underside of your breast.

“You – you don’t mind?”

“Omega,” he said softly, standing up and pulling you with him until you were standing in the middle of the room, “I have you half-naked in my lap, ready for me to devour you. I don’t mind where we are as long as no one sees how pretty you look for me. So what do you say?”

You did not say anything but you shimmied your shoulders until the dress fell down your torso. Boba’s hands were big and warm on your back as he helped it along the rest of your body. The silk fell from your body in a whisper and just like that, you stood in front of him completely bare, in a private room in the opera.

Stars, you never would have thought to do something like this. And Boba Fett still looked at you like you were the most beautiful sight in the entire world.

“Stunning,” he stated, his dark eyes running over your body. He sat down on the couch again and patted his thighs. You stepped closer, feeling strangely secure and forward – completely bare for this man who made you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

“It’s unfair, though,” you pouted as you ran your fingers over the buttons of his shirt, “You are still fully dressed.”

“Hm, let me enjoy it for now,” he smiled, pulling you against him, his hands immediately finding their way to the soft flesh of your ass, “I want to pay attention to all of this,” he squeezed your ass, “before I get distracted by your touch.”

His words turned you on more than you wanted to admit and so instead, you only squirmed in his grasp.

“Straddle me,” he instructed, relaxing against the couch as you followed his order, “Keep the heels on.”

The feeling of your bare skin against the fabric of his suit was surprisingly erotic and your pussy clenched at the proximity to him. He was warm and strong beneath you, letting you rest your weight on his thighs and the couch.

“I want you to feel how hard I am,” he explained, pushing your hips down on him and your eyes flew open at the bulge you felt pressing against your core. He felt … big. “And then I want you to tell me how you want to come tonight.”

You swallowed heavily, gathering the courage to reciprocate the honesty he was giving you. “On your cock, alpha,” the words felt strange on your tongue, never having been one for dirty talk, but the flint in his eyes made it worth it, “I want to come on your cock.”

He chuckled. “I'm afraid that’s not an option, omega. We are in public after all,” he winked, his hand wandering down your cheek and body until his fingers brushed against your folds. You were already soaking wet and you closed your eyes, grinding your hips against him, “You can have my fingers or my mouth.”

His middle finger ran through your wetness before his fingers twitched and he pushed one inside you to the first knuckle. You breathed in sharply, his touch causing everything in your body to stir.

“This okay?” he asked you, his voice rough like sandpaper, “Does my finger in your pretty cunt feel good?”

“Yes,” you nodded eagerly, gasping when his mouth closed over your nipple again, “It feels really good, alpha.”

“Good,” he rumbled, finger moving carefully deeper inside you before pulling out again. With his other hand still kneading your ass, he grinned, “Would you like me to add another finger?”

A whine escaped you at his slow pace. He really wanted to make you work for it.

“That is not an answer,” he mocked, looking up at you. You kissed him again, enjoying the way his stubble rubbed over your jaw and his tongue playing with yours, “Do you want my fingers in your pussy? Yes or no?”

“Please,” you whimpered, “Please, alpha, let me come on your cock.”

“Fuck, you're filthy,” he cursed, his hand landing on your ass in a slap, “Who knew my pretty omega could talk this dirty?”

His praise made your cheeks heat up but it did not keep you from moving your hips again. This time, you could feel the tip of him catching against your clit and a thousand nerve endings tingled. Your eyes fluttered with desire and you did it again.

And again.

Until Boba made you stop with a strong hand against your back.

“Lean against me,” he ordered, “Go on, your chest against mine.”

Following his instructions, you fully rested against him and used the position to your advantage by plating your mouth on his scent gland. It was the first time you properly tasted him – all pinewood and smoked – and it clouded your mind instantly. All you could and wanted to do was follow whatever Boba said.

“Spread your legs,” you did, “Wider, omega.”

You whimpered against him but still spread your legs as wide as they would go. It opened you up to him but instead of slipping his hand between your bodies, his fingers brushed down your back to your ass, until –

“Relax,” he murmured, his fingers only barely brushing over the crack of your ass, “I am not here for that now. Soon, though.”

You could feel his finger slowly pushing inside you, its way eased by the wetness coating your thighs and walls. Your eyes widened, completely locked in by his gaze as you felt him slowly thrust his finger in and out of your pussy.

“Want you grinding against my cock while I finger you,” he explained, voice rough, “You deserve to come, pretty omega.”

He pushed his finger, so much thicker than yours, back in again and you could feel your walls flutter. By the way Boba’s eyes darkened, he had felt it too. Soon, he added a second one, thoroughly stretching you until you were helplessly humping against him.

The sight of you must have been filthy. This older, completely dressed man with an undressed omega on top of him grinding herself against his cock and panting against his scent gland. It turned you on even more and when you licked a stripe up his neck, he groaned too, his hips rocking up against yours and paired with his fingers inside you, you were already so close to coming.

But it was not what you wanted.

“I want your cock,” you pouted, rocking against him. He was heavy and hot and your pussy was throbbing for him, “Don’t make me wait, Boba, please.”

The hand on your ass travelled to your jaw, tilting your head until he could kiss you. “You beg so prettily for me,” he murmured, his teeth scraping against your bottom lip, “You almost have me reconsidering.”

Spurred on by his words, you pushed your hips back against his fingers, having them go deeper. Trying to keep from gasping, you bit your lip until it hurt.

“Please, alpha,” you breathed, doing your best to put on your most seductive voice, “Please alpha, I want to feel your cock so badly, I – I just know it is going to feel so good, p-please. I need it. I need it so bad.”

He did not reply for a while, simply adding a third finger that had your walls flexing around him. That should have been the sign of your victory but you were too busy grinding your clit against his covered shaft to really register it.

“I am nothing if not generous,” he teased you, his mouth pressing hot kisses to your scent gland, “But I will not knot you. I will only let you sit on my cock and fill you with my come. But I will not knot you. Not yet.“

You could live with that.

He spread you out on the couch before resting over you and it was that moment that you remembered that all that was separating you from hundreds of people were the thick velvet curtains. He seemed to know that too.

“Stay quiet, little one,” he warned you but the devious smile on his lips made you feel like he wouldn’t mind at all if everyone knew what was about to happen. And that just made you feel even hotter.

The sight of him undoing his belt alone was enough to cause another rush of wetness down your thighs and you spread your legs of your own accord, wanting to give him the view he was giving you. Because seeing his cock, big and heavy, had your pussy clenching. There was a bead of precome on the tip that you desperately wanted to taste and when his hands wrapped around his shaft, giving himself a few strokes, it was all you could do not to beg.

But Boba had plans. “One foot on the floor,” he ordered you and you did as you were told. He pushed your opposite leg on the backrest of the couch, effectively spreading you even further and felt a little ashamed, being so exposed to him.

His strong hand continued to pump his cock while he looked at your pussy like he wanted to devour you.

“Alpha,” you whined, growing restless, “Please …”

“We got to be quick, little omega,” he warned you, “We have a show to catch, after all.”

Despite his warning, he pushed inside you slowly, letting you get used to his size. You had known it would be a tight fit from just seeing him but the feeling of the tip alone breaching your walls had your breath catching in your throat. Boba noticed, of course, and his thrust remained shallow until you could finally relax.

“Good girl,” he praised you, “Can feel you opening up for me. You’re all quiet now, hm? All you wanted was that big fat cock fully in your pussy, hm?”

You nodded eagerly, his words making your cheeks flush. His body, still dressed, moved above yours expertly while you hardly knew what to do with yourself. You felt full and pleasured and he wasn’t even fully inside you yet. All you could do was run your hands over his body, grabbing his shoulders, brushing your fingertips over his scent gland and then to the back of his head, pulling him down for a kiss.

Boba, meanwhile … Boba was a rock. He was confident, calm and in control. All the C-words, really. Cocky too, judging by the smirk on his face as he bent down to kiss you again.

“Tell me,” he encouraged you, “How are you feeling with my cock inside you, princess?”

“Full,” you breathed, “So full, alpha. It’s – are you –“

He looked down, his finger circling your clit, making your clench around his firth. “Not even halfway, little one,” he stated and you took a deep breath, “I’m gonna fit in this tight little pussy, no worries.” He continued to circle your clit and you hummed, feeling your walls stretch around him.

“There we go,” he encouraged you, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear as he spoke, “There’s my good girl. So gorgeous for me, feel so good around my cock. Tell me, does it feel good for you too?”

“Uh huh,” you nodded eagerly, trying to shift your hips to get closer but Boba pinned you down with his body weight, shoving the rest of him inside you in the process. You bit your lip, trying to muffle the moan that wanted to break free. His weight on top of you was comforting. You wanted him to have this control over you, having to worry about nothing but enjoying yourself.

“I am the one who moves around here,” he chastised you, fully thrusting inside you again and brushing a spot that made you shiver, “Trust me, omega. Let me take care of you. You just lie here and take it.”

And take it you did.

“Faster, please,” you whispered, “Just a little – oh!”

He adjusted his pace perfectly like he knew exactly what you needed. The size of him inside you made you see stars and you felt dizzy with pleasure. When he angled his hips just so, his cock met that spot again and again until your eyes fell back and your mouth fell open. Thick fingers wrapped around your neck, just under your jaw and you could feel his breath on your skin.

Your toes started tingling and soon the sensation ran through all your muscles until you were spasming around him in the strongest orgasm you had ever felt. Everything felt heightened and with how you were clenching around him, he felt even bigger than he already was.

“Fuck,” Boba cursed into your neck, his hips stuttering, “You are so fucking pretty, omega. Can’t wait to fill you up like you deserve, full of my cock and my come. Gonna do this every day, princess, so you remember who you belong to, hm?”

Gasping for breath, your heart still racing in your chest, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, “Alpha, I –“

“I know, princess,” he groaned quietly, his hips stilling, “I know.”

His cock was so deep inside you, you never wanted him to leave. You wanted to remain like this forever. He came inside you and you could feel it, the strange sensation of him filling you up with what felt like a lot of come, a guaranteed mess between your thighs.

Still, you had never felt as connected with anyone as with Boba at this moment, his clothed body pressing against yours, his breath slowing against your neck.

“Stars,” you whispered, blinking the sudden tears away.

Boba kissed you softly, his rough hands running over every inch of bare skin. His weight on you was comforting and the way he caged you in made you feel oddly small and safe. He pulled out of you, slowly, and you winced when his come trickled down your tights as soon as he left you.

You watched as he reached for some tissues, gently cleaning you up. He remained silent but gentle, his fingertips brushed carefully over your inner thighs and your already swollen folds.

“How do you feel?”

“Fucked,” you breathed out. Both of you chuckled but the sight of him pocketing your panties had you grow quiet. “Don’t mind if I keep these,” he rumbled, his hands helping you stand before smoothing your dress down your legs, “Want to keep a souvenir of when I filled you up the first time.”

You were completely breathless again and it did not help that you could still feel him inside you. “Thank you,”

“For what, omega?”

You stepped closer to him, planting your hands on his chest. His heart was beating just as hard as yours and you could not wait to later peel the shirt off him and feel his body heat against yours. For now, though, you just pressed a kiss to his neck. “For taking care of me,” you explained, “For making me come,” you kissed his jaw, “For fucking me so good,” you whispered before kissing him softly, “For coming inside me.”

His hands went to your waist, holding you closer and allowing him to prolong the kiss. He was growling when you pulled away and it was easy to admit that he already had a hold on your heart and pussy. But it was your turn to tease now.

“C’mon,” you grinned, “Didn’t you say we had a show to catch?”

Boba grinned, eyes twinkling as he pulled back the curtains for you. “You're gonna be the death of me, little one.”

Fortunately, you were not the death of him, though he did like to continue the joke weeks (if not months) into your relationship.

Being with Boba was like stepping out into the daylight after the movies. It was strange at first, getting used to the fact that he was so openly in love with you. That he was not afraid to embrace you being an omega. It led to a few misunderstandings and more than a few serious talks in which you came to the realization that your dating history had impacted you more than just a little.

But Boba was not about to leave you because you were an omega and he was not about about to leave you because you were too high-maintenance.

It took a bit of time and a few in-depth conversations with your friends but soon enough you learnt that you were lovable, omega and all. And Boba was the exact right person to love you.

Your first heat together was better than anything you had ever imagined. He had noticed it before even you had, showing up at your door with takeaway food from Paz’s place, flowers and a bag of his worn shirts. That and his “I took the next few days off, princess, let’s get your nest ready” came just a few hours before you noticed the cramping in your belly.

By the time your heat properly hit, you were already buried in the softness of your nest, cuddled against your alpha’s chest as you watched your favourite movies. You spent three days holed up with him in your apartment, taken care of in every single way from him scenting you to arranging the nicest fruit platter to sitting you on his knot until you cried, whispered the sweetest nothings in your ear.

It was the happiest you had ever been and for the first time in a long time, you were confident that this happiness would remain because Boba gave you every indication that it would remain.

Like when he suggested one winter evening that your flowers would bloom nicely in his garden come springtime or when he took you to the hardware store, getting all the tools to hang your pictures in his – your – home. Or how careful he was to help you pack up all your stuff, making sure everything stayed secure and safe as you made the move from your small apartment into his house that became yours.

Or that time he surprised you with the Merino wool throw blanket for your nest when you complained one December evening that the only thing that could keep you warm was him.

The one moment where it all came full circle though, was when he decided to host his team for another summer BBQ. You already had a ring on that finger (a ring he had put there after an especially romantic evening at Paz’s restaurant) and his house now truly reflected the both of you living there, but the prospect of seeing the man who had triggered it all still made you a little bit nervous.

It was hard to believe that only a year ago, you had tried to avoid Boba and the feelings he caused in you at all costs. And now you were engaged to him and could not imagine your life any other way.

A few guests were already mingling in the garden when you put out the last of the cutlery. Boba followed close behind, carrying the cooler out of the garage.

“Ready?” you asked, smoothing your hands over your yellow sundress. The hem was hitting mid-calf and you loved the little twirl it did. What you loved even more was the way your alpha had buried his head under that dress only a few hours ago.

“Ready,” he confirmed with mirth in his eyes. It would not surprise you if he knew exactly where your mind had been.

A wave of new guests arrived in the garden and you stiffened when you recognized one familiar face. And he recognized you.

“Hey,” Josh greeted you, his voice just as grating as you remembered, “I didn’t know you would be here.”

He did not try to hug you for which you were grateful but he also did not leave. You really wanted him to leave.

“Hi,” you forced yourself to smile, highly aware of Boba standing right next to you. His hand was on your lower back, warm and comforting as you faced the man who once called himself your perfect match.

“I’d say it’s good to see you, but, uh,” Josh looked to Boba, questioningly, “Why are you here, exactly?”

You wanted to scoff, you really did. But your body was tight with nerves and you did not like the eyes of the other guests on you. But you should have known that Boba would take care of you. He always did.

“C’mere, omega,” your alpha mumbled with a soft smile and your heart skipped a beat as his fingers gripped your chin and pulled you to him. And then he kissed you in front of everyone. Just a slow peck, nothing more, but you could not help but sigh against him, your hand landing on his warm chest.

He hummed, his scent surrounding you even in the open air and when he pulled away, you were both smiling. Pinewood and smoke were your favourite scents in the world.

Everybody was smiling, really, except for one.

“Do you wanna explain yourself?” Josh demanded, for the first time sounding displeased.

“I don’t think there is anything to explain,” you replied coolly, your hand still on Boba’s chest, smiling at the man in front of you. The diamond on your ring caught the sunlight but it was nothing against the blinding smile on Boba’s face.

Boba, who paid just as little attention to Josh as you, his eyes never leaving yours as he raised his hand to your face. “What can I say,” he grinned, his thumb brushing over the apple of your cheek, “She found her perfect match.”

#maybege writes #boba fett x reader #boba fett x fem!reader #smut

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corzydoie · 5 months ago

Text

Sketches of Goodbye

Author's Note: This is my first work, so all feedback is welcome. I have ideas for part 2, but let me know if you guys want one! Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy it!

Summary: Lando wakes up after a long day of racing, celebrating, and traveling hoping to see you in his apartment. Instead, he sees an email that prompts a conversation that neither of you wants to have.

Word Count: 2.1k

Content Warnings?: Literally only one curse word and one mention of a kiss. That's it

You were sat at your desk in Lando’s bedroom in Monaco, the television behind you playing the Singapore Grand Prix at a deafening volume. Still, despite your boyfriend’s amazing first place, you were too locked into the project you were currently working on to register the loud cheers and screams. The British national anthem began to play as Lando stood on the top step of the podium, but all you knew was that the music was messing with your focus, so you reached for the remote on the bed next to you and turned the TV off. Now you could finally finish the sketches you stayed up all night working on.

Lando opened the door to his Monegasque apartment, careful to not make too much noise. He knew that you stayed at his place as opposed to your own during race weekends you couldn’t attend. As it was the middle of the night in Monaco, Lando was surprised to see the light in his bedroom still on. Perhaps you stayed up late again to finish another project, or you had another late-night design session due to a spur-of-the-moment inspiration. He tried his best to tiptoe into his room and found you knocked out at the desk he had set up for you. He stood next to your sleeping body as he looked over the messy spread of sketches. You had been between collections and projects and he recognized one of them as a new line of Quadrant merch, which he never remembered asking you to do. That was one of the reasons Lando loved you, even without asking you were finding ways and doing things to help him out and further his brand. Even though he didn’t know the first thing about design, he could sense your passion and talent from the simple lines of graphite on paper. Lando decided against waking you up since he knew you must’ve been exhausted, if the large amount of paper, both new, old, and crumpled, littering his room was any sign. After changing into his pajamas, he turned off the desk lamp by your head and tucked himself in for the night.

When Lando woke up, he took a quick look at his phone to check the time. “1:15 PM” he read off the screen. He was so tired after the race he slept into the afternoon. He lifted his head to see if you were still asleep at the desk at the foot of his bed. As he expected, you were no longer there. Perhaps you were in the living room or the kitchen. He got up and groggily dragged his legs to find where you could be. Despite not seeing you in the other half of his apartment, he did spot your open laptop on the breakfast bar with what seemed to be a half-eaten lunch. He walked over to see if you were perhaps in the process of digitizing and colorizing your designs, only to find that wasn’t the case. He was instead met with an email addressed to you from what he could only assume to be a design company.

It read:

“Hello y/n,

Thank you for expressing interest in our brand and submitting your portfolio. Due to a large quantity of submissions and interviews, we apologize for any delay in response. After careful consideration, our team has decided that you would be a wonderful addition and would like to extend an offer of employment…” Lando heard your keys at the door and looked up to see you entering his apartment with a package tucked under your arm. Upon seeing your boyfriend in front of your open laptop, you immediately knew what he saw. You were both frozen in place as the situation started to sink in.

“Heeeyyy,” you exhaled, trying to relieve a bit of the tension.

“Hey,” Lando briefly replied. You slowly closed the door, afraid that the slightest sound would bring you to your senses.

“I just went downstairs to pick up a package. Apparently the delivery person just left it at reception.” You walked over to the couch with Lando’s eyes tracking your every movement.

“What’s in it? Is it more fabrics for a project?” You froze as soon as you sat down, knowing that acknowledging your work would ultimately result in a conversation about the email. Slowly looking towards your boyfriend, you realized he didn’t seem sad, or angry, he was rather calm. Perhaps he didn’t read the contents of your screen or at least all of it.

With eased nerves, you replied, “Yeah, just working on some pieces to add to my portfolio. Trying out some new techniques and mediums.” Lando was a bit confused as to why you still needed to add to your portfolio when you’ve already submitted one, and it was accepted.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you need to add to your portfolio when this company already emailed you that you got the job?” So he did read the email. You felt your stomach drop and to Lando, it almost looked as if you stopped breathing and time had stopped.

“Oh, it’s just to track all my pieces and progress. Like updating a résumé.” You opened the large box that went rather unnoticed for a while and began unpacking. Lando still stood in the same spot and you could almost sense the tension from where you sat in the living room. As you slightly shifted your gaze upwards from your box, you could see the unease on Lando’s face. He still had a few questions about the email and he couldn’t quite wrap his head around the situation.

“What is it? What’s bothering you?” you asked him. It was better to address things than leave them to linger, and noticing how this made your boyfriend on edge, you decided to rip the band-aid, with his consent of course.

“When were you gonna tell me?” There was a hint of sadness behind his British accent, You sighed as it was the first direct acknowledgment of what you were both trying to avoid.

“Well I just found out today-”

“Yeah but you applied a while ago,” Lando cut you off. It was true. It has been some time since you submitted your portfolio and did your interview. You almost forgot about the opportunity until they followed up a week ago, asking for an updated portfolio.

“I was gonna tell you soon I swear. It’s just been a while since I applied. I honestly kinda forgot about it. But I was just waiting to finish my internship in France, then I was gonna let you know.”

“Finish your internship? So this isn’t with the same company?” Well now you know he didn’t read the entire email. Hell, he didn’t even read past the third sentence.

“No, it’s not.”

“Well…” Lando paused. The apartment fell silent and the air grew thick. Knowing Lando didn’t read the entire email made it harder for you to reveal the entire truth to him. “At least it’s a step up. Even if it’s not with the same company, a promotion is still a promotion. Besides, it’s not like anything’s gonna change. We can still work with the system we have going.” Lando walked across the room and sat next to you on the couch. You dropped your head as you prepared yourself for the major bomb you were about to drop on this poor man’s life.

“It’s in Japan,” you muttered under your breath, barely audible,

“What?” Lando turned his head to look at you, hoping that would help him hear what you said.

“The brand that I applied for is based in Japan. I have to move to Tokyo.”

Silence. Deafening. Different from the TV that was playing last night. Both were bad. Both annoyed you so much that you just wanted it to end.

“Well, you don’t have to go. You haven’t said yes yet. You can still say no and apply to other company’s close by.” The Five Stages of Grief never made sense to you until you saw DENIAL written all over his face and laced in all his words.

“I’m not gonna say no Lando.”

“Why not? That means you’ll be even farther away. You don’t even speak Japanese. You know they eat a lot of fish over there-” “You’re the one that doesn’t like fish, not me.” “Would you even have time to come to my races? I won’t see you when I come back.” Lando was too caught up in his denial-stricken rambling that he didn’t notice your interjection. This was a great opportunity for you and yet it seemed he was only concerned about the cons, and how it affected him.

“Japan is halfway across the world.” “Lando.” “We don’t even know anybody over there.” “Lando.” “Why did you even apply in the first place?” “LANDO.” You had to shout to get his attention. No matter how many times you repeated his name it didn’t seem to work. But with the sudden rise in volume, he finally snapped out of his monologue and looked you in the eyes.

“This is a great opportunity for me. I understand it’s hard for you to accept right now, but I’m going to say yes and I’m moving to Japan.” You grabbed both of his hands gently in your own and looked at him tenderly to soften his feelings and knock him out of the anger he must be feeling. Lando looked you in your eyes and noticed the change in your expression. All he could think of at that moment were all the memories you guys had with each other. When you first met, hanging out in your studio, touring the McLaren Technology Center, pranking Carlos, Daniel, Oscar, and occasionally Zak. He loved always having you close by, even if close meant across the border in France. At least it wasn’t on a whole other continent.

“So, what? Does this mean the end of us?” You were a bit stunned by that comment and Lando watched as you slightly recoiled back in shock.

“I mean it doesn’t have to be! We’ve made long distance and long periods of not being with each other work before. It’s just,” Lando’s head sank as he let out a long exhale, “Japan is so far away, and you’ll be so busy. We’re both going far in our careers but it seems like we won’t have much time for each other.” You hooked a finger under Lando’s chin, slightly nudging it upwards so he’d look you in the eyes again.

“I understand Lando, and I worry about the same things too. Maybe, it’s for the best if we took a break. They want me out there in a month so I’ll come with you to COTA. I’m sorry things played out the way they did. I should’ve told you sooner.” You brought your face closer to Lando’s so that your foreheads touched. You closed your eyes, taking in the scent of his cologne and the lingering smell of sweat and alcohol from the night before. Lando did the same, breathing in the perfume and shampoo he grew to love over the past few years.

“Y/n.”

“Yeah?” This time, it was Lando who was preparing himself for what he was about to say. He knew it was going to sound harsh, but it was a fact that he needed to get off his chest.

“We don’t need a break, we need to break up.” You snapped your eyes open and your head up. Lando mirrored your moves more slowly already knowing what look painted your features. As he opened his eyes, he saw the confusion and sadness that brushed over your face. You began to shake your head, now facing the denial yourself, quietly chanting “no, no, no,” as your eyes began to water and tears pricked the corner of your eyes.

“I know, I don’t want to either. But if our careers keep heading in the direction they’re going, we won’t ever have time to see each other, or talk, or even settle down to start a family. You’ll be drowned in work, designing awesome fashion collections in Japan. And I’ll have Verstappen, Hamilton, and Leclerc riding up my ass.” You both laughed at the last statement. You were grateful that Lando had a talent for diffusing the tension in a heavy atmosphere.

“If the universe intends it, it will happen. We will see each other again. I promise.” Lando pulled you in for a sweet long kiss. One that reminded him of all the times before. As you both pulled away, you looked into each other's eyes and smiled.

“For now, let’s enjoy the rest of our time together.” Perhaps there was a way for you guys to stay together and make it work out, perhaps this was the best decision. But you guys did enjoy the rest of your time together. And Lando did promise that you would see each other again.

Written By: CorzyDoie <3

#formula 1 #lando norris #lando x reader #f1 x reader #lando norris fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #lando imagine #formula one fancfiction

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huhmiya · 8 months ago

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SPOTIFY PLAYLIST | nick sturniolo

pairing: bsf!nick x f!reader

summary: where you and nick have been spending the whole day together and tried to find a film but at the end, the two of you decided to listen to the playlist that you both created.

warning: fluff (??), use of y/n, swearing.

a/n: not my photos, on pinterest. this is short and simple but I wanted to make a nick one.

WORDS: 0.9k

huhmiya on wattpad

you - pink | nick - purple

You and Nick spent the whole day shopping because he needed to find a new shirt after Chris spilled a drink on him since he would find it funny.

Now though you were in Nick's room, he was eating the pizza he picked up on the way home so the two of you could share, while you were going through the items you had purchased.

You didn't buy much because you didn't find many things you liked, which may have been because you had money with you. It always seems that whenever you don't have money, you come across the best shops.

"Do you want another slice?" Nick asked, as he was on his second slice while you had only eaten one. You nodded, folded the clothes you had bought, and put them in the bag.

"Yeah," you smiled before taking a slice. You were pleased with the toppings he chose since you enjoyed them, and so did he.

While eating, Nick scrolled through some movies on his laptop, as neither of you knew where the TV remote was. "These movies are so fucking boring. I swear on my life I've seen them all," he complained.

You chuckled and playfully rolled your eyes slightly before meeting his gaze, then shifting your attention back to the laptop he was using.

"Not all of these are boring, you know?" you remarked upon coming across some films you'd seen before but found amazing. He simply shook his head and glanced at you.

"If you don't find these boring, you're boring," he teased before switching to a different app for movies, yet they seemed to be more of the same, with a few extra films that were rather lackluster.

As rain began to patter against the window, you were so engrossed in the food and his movie choices that you hadn't even noticed.

"You've skipped over some really good films," you noted, to which he chuckled, acknowledging that he had, but expressing a desire to find something new and promising.

"Well, y/n, I'm trying to find a great movie we haven't seen yet," he declared, grabbing another slice of pizza from the box and munching on it while using his free hand to browse through the movie options on his laptop.

You had a feeling you would be staying here for years, so you tried to come up with some ideas before sitting up suddenly, which prompted him to look at you in confusion at your swift movement.

"Why don’t we create a Spotify playlist?" you suggested to your friend. He simply looked at you, then closed his laptop to avoid looking through films.

He smiled and nodded, then sat up from his bed, not as quickly as you did, and opened Spotify.

You both shared some similar music tastes, but also had some differences. There were songs you both enjoyed and others that only one of you liked.

"Okay, but what should we name it and which songs should we include?" he inquired, while you both took a moment to think and decide.

As the minutes passed and turned into hours, the rain continued to fall, steadily increasing in intensity, providing a comforting backdrop for your collaboration.

You added a mix of both your favorite songs, as well some that were more to your liking than his but he did the same, reflecting your diverse music preferences.

The playlist was over three hours long, but neither of you really paid much attention as you both just kept adding more and more songs you both liked.

As you both finished, the sky had turned dark blue, signaling that night was approaching. You leaned back on the pillows and glanced at the empty pizza box, reflecting on how much you had both eaten, until he broke the silence.

“That’s all I can think of, how about you?” he asked. You just looked at the playlist, scrolling through the songs before speaking. “Yeah.. can’t think of anything else”

He seemed pleased too. You used to have a playlist, but it was filled with songs that now seemed cringeworthy or overplayed. Creating a new one, one that he could enjoy listening to now, made him happy, and it did the same for you.

You rested your head on Nick's shoulder once he lay down on his bed and he wrapped his arm around you, then reached into his drawer to grab his AirPods instead of headphones.

“Should we give it a listen?” he asked with a grin, handing you an AirPod. You chuckled and nodded before taking it just in time for him to start playing the playlist you had spent hours creating together.

masterlist! guidelines & information! wattpad! socials!

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goldfades · 2 years ago

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✮ 𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬, jamie drysdale

now you're liftin' me up, 'stead of holdin' me down stealin' my heart, 'stead of stealin' my crown untangled all the strings 'round my wings that were tied i didn't know him and i didn't know me cloud nine was always out of reach now i remember what it feels like to fly you give me butterflies

♡ ─ word count | 1.9k

♡ ─ summary | no one has ever made you feel the way jamie did. every day, jamie convinces you more and more that he loves you in different ways.

♡ ─ warnings | unedited, a little bit of angst to fluff (like the tiniest bit, it all gets resolved), tooth rotting sweet fluff, a little mention of exes, jealousy

♡ ─ taglist | fill out my form if you're interested!

♡ ─ ev's notes | i love jamie more than anything else in the world, he makes me SO FUCKING HAPPY. anyways, i kind of went off the song a little bit but i just needed a title LMAO, i love the song though. check it out if y'all haven't heard it. i'm such a whore for fluff, this was also very self indulgent.

You'd never been in love before Jamie.

That was the recent realization you'd have. Ever since you'd been with Jamie, you'd realized that no other ex could ever compare to Jamie. Or the way he treated you ─ it was special, and that was how you knew you loved him.

He treated you with respect and kindness, something you had never experienced before. All your other relationships were anything but that ─ stupid, immature and childish men were the ones you were used to.

It had been a recent realization, though. You'd only been with Jamie for about 8 months ─ neither of you had ever said the special three words. But that doesn't mean you guys didn't feel it ─ he showed it through his actions.

Jamie was very observant person, he was good at picking up certain cues which made him insanely empathetic ─ something you had never experienced before. He not only showed empathy but also a remarkable level of understanding, a realization that dawned on you during your first "disagreement" with him.

──

You sat next to Jamie as you both watched the movie, feeling the familiar burning of jealousy swell in your stomach as you kept repeating the same scene in your head over and over again. Jamie giving one of his girl-friends a very tight and up-close hug, putting his arms around her like he did with you. You weren't even paying attention to the movie at that point, too preoccupied with the feeling that was currently sitting in your stomach like a bag of rocks.

Now you knew that Jamie wouldn't ever cheat or make you uncomfortable ─ he did it subconsciously which somehow made it worse because you couldn't logically get jealous over something that wasn't intentional.

You made an effort to conceal your jealousy by diverting your attention to the movie playing, but you were lost in your own thoughts.

When the movie paused, you were finally drawn out of your thoughts as you turned to face Jamie.

He sighed and put the remote down, turning to face you completely. "What's wrong?"

You forced out a smile, "Nothing, just tried. Let's just finish the movie."

Jamie kept staring into your eyes, furrowing his eyebrows. "You're not tired, what's wrong? Really?"

You felt your stomach twist in irritation. How didn't he know? Your face turned to an annoyed expression like a switch. "I said nothing Jamie, so just drop it."

Your angry words lingered in the now, tense, atmosphere as you both stared into each other's eyes. Jamie slightly flinched at your unusual outburst.

Nevertheless, he continued. Jamie was nothing if not persistent, you'd noticed. "Y/N, just tell me what's wrong so we can fix this ─ I hate this."

The slight hurt in his voice made everything switch again. The anger turned into guilt just as quickly and you realized that you were being the toxic one now. Jamie wasn't your ex, Jamie was himself and that was why this was working.

You hated this feeling as you took a deep breathe, diverting your gaze back to the screen so that you wouldn't feel uncomfortable under his watch. "I'm not sure..."

Jamie finally exhaled, putting his hand on top of yours. "There's obviously something wrong." He said softly, "Tell me so I can fix it, baby."

The sweet pet-name rolled off his tongue so softly, it made your heart swell and you were hit with a sense of comfort from his tender touch.

You exhaled deeply before returning your gaze back to him. "You hugged Emma too close the other night, I... I didn't like it. But I don't want you to feel suffocated or anything, if this is just me overthinking just tell me so I can just shut up about it─"

"Y/N, you're not suffocating me." He chuckled out in disbelief of your words. He held your hand tighter and sighed before nodding. "If you're uncomfortable with me hugging other girls, I don't want to make you feel bad so I can stop, baby. I'm sorry, I was just doing it out of habit."

You felt guilty almost instantly. "No, no. It's fine, it's not your fault, honestly. It was just because it was so close."

Jamie gave you a small smile. "Baby, I don't wanna touch anyone expect you, I don't care. Even if it makes you feel the tiniest bit upset, I won't do it. Trust me, it's not like it's an inconvenience."

The validation was a new feeling you'd never felt in any other relationship. It felt like a breath of fresh air ─ it was the best feeling ever. But you still felt a tiny bit guilty, were you being controlling?

It was like Jamie was reading your mind. Before you could reply, he continued. "You aren't being controlling, baby ─ you just communicated what you were feeling and I'm just agreeing with you. It's my own decision. You're right, if you hugged another boy like the way I did with Emma, I would've mad too."

The new feeling grew in your stomach and you felt so happy. A smile was plastered on your face as you squeezed his hand. You let out a deep exhale. "Thank you, for understanding."

"You're welcome, baby. But don't thank me for being a decent boyfriend, it's the least I could do." Jamie smiled as he pulled you closer to his chest. "How could I ever want any other person's touch when I have yours?"

You laughed at the cheesy statement, Jamie joining in a few seconds after. "Yeah, me too Jamie."

──

Jamie always showed his love in different ways. He was not a fan of too much PDA ─ he's a believer of privacy. He hates when other people are somehow involved in your relationship, he kept everything between you two because he knew it wouldn't end well if other people put their opinions on your relationship.

Jamie showed his love by doing the small stuff. Jamie was very observant and he knows everything you liked, and he would go out of his way to make sure to make you feel seen. For example, he knows that you weren't good on caffeine so he made sure to buy decaf coffee and herbal tea.

During the off-season, Jamie would still wake up before you and he would make your drinks. He knew you liked iced tea so he would make sure to put the drink in the fridge so you wouldn't have to wait. That was just one of the many things that Jamie does for you to show he cares.

──

You awoke softly, stretching in the warm bed before the dread sat in. You looked next to you ─ Jamie was already gone. You'd thought that his flight would be later in the day but you remembered it was 5 am.

You sighed softly and shook away the disappointment. You missed him ─ he had just flew back in a few days ago and even then, you'd only spent the nights together because he was busy. You understood but you couldn't help but feel a little dejected.

You got up to the bathroom and did your morning routine before walking into the empty living room before the kitchen. You opened the refrigerator door and saw your daily herbal tea which made you crack a small smile. You also saw a small sticky-note on the cup.

You picked it up and read it with a grin.

Sorry I had to leave early this morning. Made you some lemongrass and lavender tea, your favorite. Enjoy, baby.

Love, J P.S check the coffee table

Your heart swelled at the sweet words. You were slightly confused at the last statement and you put down your tea on the island before walking to the coffee table.

In the middle, sat a pink letter with a sticky note on top that says "This one". You giggled to yourself, you knew you could get confused. You picked it up and ripped it open.

There were two things ─ a note and a few tickets. You were confused as you read the note first.

Pack your bags and plan your outfits, we are going to see Taylor Swift in a week. I'll see you then.

Love, J

──

Neither of you had ever said the three of the most special words. The declaration of love had never been said by neither of you. You never needed to hear it ─ you already knew it.

He did things for you and so did you, you never needed to hear it to know it's true. Actions were stronger than words to both of you.

──

You two both stood in the kitchen, listening to some music as you made dinner. This was the first weekend Jamie had finally been free and you both decided a date night would be good for you two. You'd be lying if you said that his schedule didn't put a strain in your relationship but you both promised that a date night whenever he was free would help.

And it worked ─ you both listened to favorite artists as you made the pasta and he made the salad, updating each other on each other's lives. You spoke so freely, informing him on everything that was going in your head and so did he, telling you about all the drama that was going on in his friend-group and team.

"─And then we all just stood there, trying to figure out what to say to the poor girl." He laughed as he cut out the vegetables for your salad. "Then she left and keyed his new Range Rover."

The last part made you dial back, looking back in disbelief. "What? All because she thought they were dating?"

He laughed even louder, you joining a few seconds after. "Yeah! He was so mad he didn't come to practice for the next two days."

"Crazy. But I don't blame her, he shouldn't have led her on." You added as you poured the sauce over the pasta, looking over to Jamie.

"Agreed, but his Range Rover? I mean, that must've been a fortune to fix."

"Shouldn't have led her on, then." You said as Jamie let out another small laugh as he poured the salad into the bowl, putting on the dining table.

You poured the pasta in the plates and put them on the table, all while Jamie poured some juice into cups and into them on the table. The two of you were always in sync ─ you never had to worry about him not getting his tasks done.

You both sat in the table, exhausted. "I'm so hungry." Jamie mumbled before taking a bite of the pasta.

"Yeah, me too."

His eyes sparkled as he devoured the meal, emitting an appreciative moan. "Oh my gosh, I missed this. This is so good. My god, I love you," he mumbled while continuing to eat, seemingly unaware of his inadvertent declaration of love.

A sudden hush fell between you, and he nervously gulped down his food, his gaze fixed on you. You both looked at one another, quietly. He cleared his throat and nervously swallowed another bite, his gaze fixed on you.

At that moment, a radiant smile adorned your face, casting a warm and playful glow. You couldn't resist a teasing inquiry, letting the question dance in your eyes as you leaned forward slightly. "You love me or my food?"

The question hung in the air, carrying with it a sense of lightheartedness. The intensity was suddenly all dropped as he grinned back. "Is that okay if I say both?"

"Yeah, of course baby." You replied, continuing eating slowly as the music played in the background. "Hey, Jamie?"

He gave you a mumble in response, too busy eating the pasta you made.

"I love you too."

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

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