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polakina · 1 year

Text

intensified senses

pairing: miguel o'hara x reader

rating: explicit

outline: being highly recommended by his lieutenants, miguel decided to recruit you into the spider society. wary of you at first, he kept a distance. but you were persistent on getting through the cracks of his stony exterior

warnings: cursing, fluff, eventual smut, miguel being a sarcastic bitch, pining, flirting, masturbation (male), blindfolding, sensory deprivation, blowjobs, unprotected sex, riding

requests are open! hope you enjoy, petals <3

masterlist

He watched you from afar at first. Crouched from a high tower, dressed in inconspicuous clothing and hiding in plain sight. You came highly recommended. Jess and Ben spoke rather fondly of you, of your loyalty, bravery. You took care of your neighbourhood, of your city. And you were damn fucking good at it.

Miguel didn’t see it. He looked at you with a rather cold stare as you perched from a rooftop, your headpiece laid beside you as you looked out towards the streets. You crouched there with a bagel in one hand, iced coffee in the other. Your suit was all yellow, like the sun. The spider on your chest a deep orange. The sunset made it shine brightly. A pretty amber in the light. Miguel just sort of scowled at you.

“What do you think, O’Hara?” Jess came through on his earpiece, crackly, but clear enough to understand.

“She’s…you think that she could join the society?” He asked incredulously. “She’s a kid!”

“She’s actually similar in age to you, just with a better skin care routine,” he heard her chuckle lightly.

“That’s funny,” he responded coolly. Sarcastically. As he usually did. But he trusted Ben and Jess’ judgement, and to be fair, he was trying to expand the spider society further. So perhaps you would be an ample addition, in his eyes.

You knew someone had been watching you for a while. You felt eyes on the back of your head. For what reason, you weren’t sure, but they didn’t pose a threatening feel. So you let them be.

It wasn’t until you felt their presence behind you that you felt that something needed to be done about it. You heard his footsteps quite a fair distance behind you, and the hairs on the back of your neck stood up straight. He was big. Very big. Putting your headpiece back on, you stood up straight and kept looking ahead of you. It was only when you felt him get a little closer that you sent your webs in his direction. You heard him grunt as he was webbed to the rooftop door, stuck in place.

That’s when you turned around to face him. Glad that your face was covered, he wasn’t able to see the look of surprise on your face. The way your eyebrows raised or your mouth fell slightly open. Goddamn. He wasn’t exactly what you had expected to be following you all these weeks.

Dark curly hair. Reddish eyes. A waistline that would put any model to shame. The man was built like a brick wall, but with a face carved from a God or something. You blinked back into focus, not letting him distract you right now.

“Who are you?” You asked, trying to conjure a sort of authoritative voice to not seem so young. Or small. Which you were in comparison right now.

“That isn’t important right now,” he said, struggling against your webbing. “I need you to come with me. I’m recruiting you. That’s the reason I’ve come to find you. Not so we can chitchat and braid eachother’s hair.”

You laughed a little. Miguel ignored how his heart leapt a little at how pretty it sounded. “Wow you’re really good with your people skills. Has anyone ever told you that?” You walked a little closer to him, still hesitant. “Unless you tell me exactly who you are, and exactly what you’re doing in my city, I’m not going anywhere. And by the time that webbing’s structure decomposes enough for you to break free, you won’t find me again.”

He just sighed at you, rolling his eyes out of impatience. “Okay, I’m over this.” talons protruded from his hands in replacement for his fingers, and he sliced through your webbing. Shit, you put so much effort into that webbing too. He sauntered towards you, hips swaying as he looked down at you with a deeply disinterested glare. You backed up until your legs hit the edge of the rooftop, pinning you between him and the ground below. You could have just jumped. Leaned back until you fell from the roof and swung through the streets, far away from him. But you couldn’t. It was like you were frozen in place. “You’re coming with me. One way or another.”

You stepped up onto the ledge, almost as tall as he was now. “As much as I’d love to come back to what I assume is a cute little lair, I’m going to have to pass.” You fell backwards off the ledge and watched his eyes widen as he went to reach for you, but he wasn’t quick enough. Clearly his spidey senses weren’t kicking in today.

You fell, looking towards the ground as it got closer and closer to you.

But you never did reach it.

It was a blur, a flash of coloured lights blinded you for a few moments. There was a pressure on the back of your neck, as though someone had grabbed you harshly, penetrating skin from the pain it inflicted.

Instead your body collided with a solid stone floor. Hard. you felt somethin crunch as your body hit the ground, sending shooting pains through your entire arm. Blinking your eyes a few times, you adjusted to the bright fluorescent lighting around you. Screens were put up on every wall, a large computer sat atop a much larger desk was raised above you.

“What the fuck?” You whispered, pushing yourself off the ground. Turning slowly in a circle, you tried to gauge where you were, until you came face to face with him again. “You! Where the fuck have you brought me?” You started swinging at him. You don’t really know why. It was a defense mechanism, you guessed? But you swung at him nonetheless. Pointless as it was, it made you feel better.

He just huffed and shook his head, batting away your hands and feet as they came at him, as though they weren’t even hurting him. It wasn’t until he grabbed your wrist which you injured, feeling the dislocation in the bone. You hissed in pain, trying to pull away, to no avail. He said nothing, just snapping it back into place and your cry echoed throughout the room.

“Asshole!” You cried out, turning away.

“You’re welcome.”

“I wouldn’t have even been hurt if you hadn’t have kidnapped me!”

“I told you I was recruiting you for something.” His voice was so plain, so boring, so calm. Not a smidge of emotion or humanity in it.

“You could have asked nicely! Maybe explained the situation before…teleporting me to your shitty office,” you breathed heavily.

“You didn’t give me a chance. This was the only way.” He turned towards the desk, making his way up to it. You followed, rolling your wrist to alleviate the pain.

“So why am I here? And who exactly are you?” You walked to the desk, taking a seat in the chair and spinning in it until his face became blurry. You came to a sudden stop when his hands fell hard onto the arm rests, his face inexplicably close to yours. You held your breath as he scowled down at you.

“Get. Off. My. Chair.”

“Who. Are. You.”

He rolled his eyes. But it wasn’t he who answered your question. It was a woman. “Miguel, you’re back! And you brought company. So this is the Lemon Spider? I expected something…different.”

“Lemon Spider? That is not my name,” you chuckled, looking over to see a blonde woman on the screens.

“Well, LYLA is my name. And Lemon Spider suits you, so Lemon Spider is your name.” She smiled, her grin was big and bright.

“And you’re Miguel? I’m glad someone finally told me.”

Eventually Miguel explained why he’d brought you to him. The Spider Society. Hundreds of spiders from hundreds of different alternate realities protecting the canon events and ensuring nothing disrupted them. His lieutenants had recommended you after close observation of how you handled situations within your own universe. You were small but quick, good at getting in and out of places that others couldn’t fit. You had heart. You never acted out of anger, or revenge. Only when someone needed you, needed your help.

It was a noble cause. One that, of course, you would have signed up for yourself if Miguel hadn’t first brought you here against your will. The man really needed to work on his people skills.

Months later, you had worked your way up the ranks. A valued member of the society. Even Miguel was impressed. Not that he ever showed it. You’d even met some other spiders. Pav and Hobie being the ones you were closest with whenever you got a chance to see them.

But Miguel was always the one you wanted to see the most, but you tried to keep that your own little secret.

“So…how ya been?” You asked, spinning on the desk chair once again as he leaned over the desk beside you. He rolled his eyes once again, but his mean demeanour had slightly softened with you around over time. Even LYLA had noticed it, once asking him if he did in fact begin to soften towards you. She earned a low growl in response and never spoke of it again.

“Busy.”

“As always,” you huffed, looking at the same thing he was, a screen with a lot of maps and circles and colours…you understood none of it.

“Shouldn’t you be working? Doing spidey stuff?” He asked, looking over at you, his eyes softening at the way you looked up at him. He brushed it off quickly though.

“My canon events are safe,” you assured. “Besides, I’ll be notified if anything canon related or otherwise is affected or in jeopardy. So until that happens, I have a clear schedule.”

He just looked away, scanning activity on the screen. “Well, that’s great,” he mumbled under his breath, sarcasm lacing his tone.

“Come on, I’m great company,” you smiled up at him.

“Uh huh.”

You sighed, leaning back in the chair, putting your feet up on the desk. “Well, you’d prefer me over Hobie, at least.”

He grunted, pushing himself off the desk and turning towards you. Grabbing both your ankles, he yanked them off the desk, pulling you closer to him, your legs either side of his body as the wheely chair rolled swiftly towards him. “Look, as much as I love the cute little attitude you seem to have,” he leaned closer towards you, his cologne filling your senses. “I have work to do. And you’re a distraction. So either be quiet, or go elsewhere, okay?”

Words escaped you. And Miguel realised exactly what he’d just said. He also realised he’d essentially caged his body between your thighs. You gazed up at him, he noted a little surprise in your eyes, as well as something else. But he couldn’t put his finger on it. Letting go of your ankles, he stepped away. You stood from your chair.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to be a distraction now, would I, O’Hara?” You asked, a little smirk playing at your lips. You patted his chest and walked away.

He hated that he watched you leave, completely ensnared by you as you left the room.

You stayed at the base that night, knowing that Miguel had his room set up there, a few doors down from the meeting room. You planned to go back to your own dimension, but it was quite boring back there right now. So you hung out in the meeting room, suspended upside down from the ceiling. Tracking the activity of your own city, you were met with absolutely fuck all. No activity. No spikes in crime or anything altered on your own timeline.

Sighing, you dropped down to the floor, preparing to go back to your own timeline. You would have said goodbye to Miguel, but you weren’t exactly sure he wanted to talk to you right now.

Just as you were about to leave, you heard something. Your ears perked and the hairs on your arms stood up. It was coming from Miguel’s room. You shouldn’t have inspected, it wasn’t your place. But your feet took you there anyway. Outside his door, you pressed your ear up against it, listening intently. At first you thought he was communicating with someone. LYLA, perhaps. Until you heard something else. Groaning? Grunting, maybe. But then you heard moaning. And he was saying something. Your name. Your hand covered your mouth so that he wouldn’t hear you. But he sure as hell would have sensed your presence. Wouldn’t he?

You stepped back, knocking into the wall behind you. His noises halted almost immediately. Hearing his footsteps approach the door, you backed away quickly, but he opened the door before you were completely out of sight. His pupils were blown wide, his shirt discarded and his chest glistening slightly with sweat.

“I thought you’d left,” he said, his voice low, gruff.

“I stuck around, kept an eye on the screens for a little while,” you admitted. It wasn’t a lie, for the most part. “Thought you would have heard me, or known I was still here.”

He cocked his head in confusion.

“Spidey senses? I always know when someone’s around,” you smiled. But he shook his head in disagreement.

“I don’t have those. Wasn’t bitten by a spider, you see,” he revealed, and your eyebrow quirked. “How long have you been stood out here?”

Your heart dropped. “Um…not long. Was just about to leave anyway, so you get back to…whatever it is you were doing. I’ll see you around, O’Hara.”

You turned to leave until his voice stopped you. “Or you could…stay?” You didn’t turn around at first, but you felt him come up behind you. Close. Very fucking close. His heat radiated onto your back. “I’ve been cold towards you, I know that. I haven’t meant to be.”

“So why have you been?” You spun on your heel, almost stumbling as you came into contact with his bare chest. But his hand on your waist caught you.

“If I let myself enjoy your company as much as I do, I’ll become distracted from my life’s work,” he let his head drop.

Confidence suddenly overtook you and you placed a hand on his cheek, tilting his head back up to look at you. “Sometimes a distraction is what you need to be able to do your job.”

He chuckled. The first time you’d ever seen him do that. “You saying I do my job wrong?”

“I said sometimes, O’Hara,” you smiled. “But maybe a distraction is what you need right now.” Taking his hand, you led him back to his room. You expected him to pull away, but he didn’t, he followed. Miguel shut the door behind him and your eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room, the only light source coming from his desk light. His hands found your waist from behind you, his breath on your neck.

“A distraction sounds pretty good right about now,” he purred in your ear, kissing your neck softly. You melted into his touch, your legs becoming a puddle. He kissed down your neck to your shoulder and you turned your head, letting your lips meet his in a gentle kiss.

This was the gentlest you’d ever seen him. Usually his walls were up, and he was cold and distant from everyone. But here…here he was entirely exposed. To you. You walked him slowly to the couch in the corner of the room, the backs of his knees hitting it before he sat down, his hands pulling you closer.

“You said you don’t have spidey senses, right?” You asked, standing before him. He looked up at you expectantly.

“What are you getting at here, princesa?”

“Just something I want to try.” You pulled the thick ribbon from your hair that tied it up in a bun whenever you were out of your suit. Your hair fell down to your shoulders, falling in front of your face.

“Oh, we’re trying things? So early on?” He joked, a small smile in his voice.

“Oh shush, I think you’ll like it,” you held the ribbon in front of him and he realised what you wanted to do. He nodded, his trust put in you. Covering his eyes, you tied it around the back of his head. “Just have a little faith.”

“In you, I do.”

You knelt before him, so thankful he was just in sweatpants. You weren’t very good at handling belts. Wrapping your fingers around the waistband of his sweatpants, you felt him tense up lightly. “Easy, O’Hara. Just relax, okay?”

You looked up to see him nod. Smiling, you continued, pulling his sweatpants down to his ankles. He’d opted to go commando under those pants, and you stifled a gasp at what awaited you beneath the fabric.

Shit. you knew he was a big guy…but you didn’t expect him to be that big of a guy. Miguel’s cock sprang out of its confinement, hard, long and thick. For a moment you worried yourself that you wouldn’t be able to take all of him. Or even…most of him. But you were too pent up and needy for him that you pushed past it.

Wrapping your hand around the base of his cock, Miguel shuddered at your touch. He didn’t want to admit it, but it had been a while for him. Having only his own hand to work with, he couldn’t fathom how good it felt to be your hand instead.

But fuck, the second he felt your mouth envelope his dick, he couldn’t stop the moan that escaped his throat. You loved it, the raw feeling behind his groaning and whimpering. Taking him further in your mouth, you sucked slowly, deeply, your tongue circling the tip so his legs tightened under your hand where it laid, resting on his thigh.

You felt his hand travel to your head, fingers entangling in your hair and gripping it with a firm hold. He didn’t push, he just held you there. The more of him you took, the tighter his grip got. His panting and moaning was like music to your ears.

“Shit…shit…” he breathed, raising his hips up off the couch, his dick pushing deeper down your throat. He was about to come, on the verge of it, you could feel it. His head fell back against the top of the couch, his teeth gritted against each other as he felt the precipice of his orgasm fast approaching. “Wait, wait, wait.” He spoke quickly, racing through his words.

You did stop. Pulling away and looking up at him. “Are you okay?” You asked, worried you’d gone too far, too fast.

“I’m fine,” he panted, head tipped towards the ceiling. “But…” Miguel pulled down his blindfold so it hung loosely around his neck. He gazed at you, his eyes coated in a thin sheen, glossed over. “I’m not gonna be the only one who gets to feel this good though.” He pulled you up and onto his lap. You felt his dick twitch beneath you as your face was ever so close to his, inches away from one another. “So now it’s your turn, princesa.”

Miguel smirked, his hand sliding down the front of your pants, gliding under your panties and came into contact with your bare skin. Your breath shortened as his fingers drifted down to your pussy, already soaked from the moments previously, and he smirked at the wetness he felt there. “Already this wet, hmm? Guess it’s not going to take long for you to be able to take me, huh?” He was so smug. So confident. In any other instance you’d find it annoying, but right now you couldn’t have found it more attractive. All you could muster up was a quiet, desperate please.

He smiled, pushing a finger deep inside you and pulling a soft moan from you. God, he could listen to that on repeat for the rest of his life. Moving his finger in and out at a quickened pace, curving his fingertip to hit that sweet spot you could never reach yourself, he felt you clench around him, your eyes begging for more when your mouth couldn’t form the words. He happily obliged, adding a second finger. The palm of his hand grinding against your clit with the added pressure of his fingers fucking you was driving you to the edge quicker than you thought possible.

He knew it too. Your eyes rolling back, your hips shifting to rock with the rhythm of his fingers inside you. You were close.

“You want to come, angelita?” He asked, his words dripping with want, with need. For you. He watched you nod frantically. But he slowed his fingers, his other hand gripping your jaw gently, but firmly. “On my fingers, or on my cock, hmm?” He saw the way your eyes lit up at that proposal. “Oh, honey. I think I already know what you want.”

He didn’t even try and take off your pants, he tore right through them instead, his talons scraping against your skin, but never breaking your skin. Throwing your torn clothes across the room, he lifted you up so you hovered above him. Miguel grabbed his cock by the base, running it along your pussy, soaking the tip with your wetness.

Words escaped you and your mind went numb when he first pushed his cock into you. At first it felt overwhelming, the size of him frying your senses and fogging your head. Only at about half way in, Miguel started to feel resistance, and the look of shock and the overwhelmed tint in your eyes showed him why. “Just relax, conejita. You’re taking me so well,” he whispered, one hand on your thigh and the wrapped around your back.

His praise and encouragement cleared your clouded thoughts. You nodded, taking your time and sinking lower and lower until you reached the base. Letting out a deep breath, you gave yourself a few moments to adjust. Miguel smiled up at you. “Atta girl,” he mumbled, a smirk on his lips. He shifted his hips, rising up into you, purposefully grinding his dick up into your soaking pussy. Fuck, he loved the way you bit your lip to stifle your noises as to not make too much noise. Not that anyone else was here anyway. He wanted to hear you.

You started rocking back and forth on his dick, the tip hitting something devastatingly sweet every time and it sent shockwaves through your entire body. You wrapped your arms around his neck, nails scratching into his back, digging crescent shaped indents into his skin as you rolled your hips quicker and quicker. Miguel’s hands both found their way to your hips, guiding your movements and controlling your speed. His head dipped down as he kissed your neck, taking your skin between his teeth and biting gently, sucking deep marks into your neck.

His lips trailed down, passing your collar bones, down your sternum to your breasts. His tongue circled your perked nipple before he sucked identical purple marks into your breasts, kissing along to the other breast as he did, giving the same treatment to both.

Mumbles and whimpers fell from your lips, flooding the room with your desperation for Miguel’s touch, for Miguel’s praises, for Miguel’s hands all over you. His fingers dug tighter into your hips, grinding you against him hard, his cock reaching the perfect places inside you to make you squirm, to make you cry out his name.

“You gonna come for me, princesa? Hmm?” He asked, a smidge of cockiness in his tone. He was good. And he knew he was good. You couldn’t deny it, not knowing that even though you were already so overwhelmed by the size of him, mixtures of pleasure and pain that balanced one another out perfectly, you couldn’t deny that you weren’t already craving more of him.

But the second he started raising his hips to meet yours, you lost it. Your head fell against his shoulder, and his lips attacked your neck, pressing soft kisses there, biting gently. His hand drifted between your bodies, putting pressure against your clit with his thumb. That’s when your body began to unravel, your senses skyrocketed. You gripped the back of his neck so tightly as you felt your orgasm growing closer, your thighs shaking and your movements started to falter in both speed and momentum.

Miguel sensed it it too, his hands on your hips becoming the sole thing after a point, that kept you grinding on his cock. He was close too. But he held out with all of his focus. Wanting you to come for him first. Needing you to. “Come on, honey,” he purred in your ear, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Be a good girl and come for me.”

You couldn’t hold it in anymore. You let out a small cry, Miguel’s name playing on your tongue. Your orgasm washed over you. It wasn’t gentle either, like it usually was whenever you touched yourself. This was powerful. This was like a tsunami. It tore through you, electrifying your veins and causing you to clench hard. Your thighs caged him, closing tighter around his body as you clung to him. You bit into Miguel’s shoulder, hard enough to draw blood, but it didn’t stop him from fucking up into you. He didn’t stop. Not until your orgasm had finally satisfied the both of you. Your body collapsed against him, your chest heaving as you tried to regain all of your breath, filling your lungs to their capacity.

“You okay, conejita?” He asked, raking his fingers up and down your spine, kissing the side of your head. He chuckled lightly as you just nodded, a quiet groan all you could muster up at an attempt for words.

You lifted your head, leaning back to look at him. A gasp escaped your throat as he shifted beneath you once more, his cock twitching. “You didn’t…” Your words trailed off as you looked fown for a split second.

Miguel shook his head. “No.”

“Why not?” You asked, a mixture of curiosity and a little embarrassment lacing your tone.

He smiled, leaning back, running his hands up and down your thighs. “You think I can only last one round, honey? I’m offended,” he laughed jokingly. Your eeys widened a little, and you were slightly concerned you wouldn’t be able to handle more right now. Not if it was as good as that. “Don’t look so afraid, baby,” he whispered, lifting you and your legs wrapped around his waist. He carried you to the bed on the other side of the room, laying your down gently, your head settling comfortably into the pillows as he climbed on top of you, his body between your thighs. “I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

You huffed a soft laugh. “Miguel, I don’t think you know the meaning of gentle.”

He matched your soft laugh with one of his own. Rolling his eyes, he leaned even closer to you, your lips almost touching. “I’ll try to be gentle. At first.” His eyes darkened in the dimmed room and your heart beat just a little faster. “But don’t think it’ll take me more than five minutes to fuck you into this bed until all you can do is scream my name.”

#miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #spiderman #spiderman into the spiderverse #into the spider verse #oscar isaac #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #atsv #atsv miguel #atsv x reader #spiderman x reader #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel ohara fanfiction #smut #fluff #fanfic #fanfiction

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holysainz · 10 months

Text

his haven - max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x reader

warnings: vague and brief mention of minor accident

summary: the rest of the world may see him as mad max but you bring out another side of him

A blur of scarlet and orange sweeps past you as you stand on the sidelines of the Autodromo Nazionale di Monza, the deafening roar of engines echoing in your ears. It’s a sight and sound you’ve grown accustomed to, the chaotic symphony of Formula 1. To your right, the Red Bull team huddles around monitors, eyes glued to their champion, Max Verstappen.

“Mad Max” they call him. On the track, he’s a beast … fierce, relentless, and terrifyingly fast. A blink and you’d miss him. But to you, he’s simply Max, the man you love.

“Over to Max’s girlfriend, how are you feeling right now?” a reporter shoves a microphone towards you.

“I’m confident,” you reply, eyes never leaving the blur that is Max on the track. “He’s at his best when under pressure.”

—

Away from the screech of tires and buzz of the crowd, Max is different. He’s soft-spoken, his eyes always twinkling with laughter, his smile warming your heart. And it’s this Max you come home to after the race.

“Hey, liefje,” he greets you, brushing a kiss on your temple. His racing gear has been replaced by comfortable jeans and a t-shirt, his hair damp from the shower.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” you ask, noticing the slight grimace as he moves.

“Just a little sore, nothing major,” he shrugs it off, but you’re not convinced.

“Lie down. I’ll get the ice pack," you command, to which he obeys with a chuckle. “Always so bossy.”

“And you love it,” you smirk back, pressing the cold pack to his shoulder gently.

“Only because it’s you,” he confesses, capturing your lips in a tender kiss.

—

A race accident brings out Mad Max. His car, a crumpled wreck, his team frantically shouting over the radio, spectators holding their breath. But in the chaotic frenzy, you remain calm.

“Are you okay, Max?” The radio crackles to life.

“I’m okay. I’m okay,” he replies, his voice strained.

Hours later, as he hobbles into your shared hotel room, the fiery anger that usually follows a mishap is absent. He meets your worried gaze, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Told you, I’m okay.”

“But you could’ve been—”

“I wasn’t and that’s what matters,” he interrupts, cradling your face in his hands.

—

It’s late when Max finally drifts off to sleep, exhaustion overtaking him. You stay awake, staring at his peaceful face, a stark contrast to the Mad Max everyone knows. Your fingers trace the curve of his face, lingering on a small scratch from the accident.

“I love you, you know,” you whisper, though you know he can’t hear you. “But could you try not to scare me like that again?”

A soft mumble is your only response, Max stirring slightly in his sleep. You smile, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

—

Mad Max returns to the track, a force to be reckoned with, taking the next race and the next race and the next race by storm. He stands atop the podium, trophy held high, a victorious smile on his face. You’re by his side, matching his grin with your own.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he whispers later, holding you close in the quiet of your shared room.

“I didn’t do anything, Max. That was all you,” you respond, your fingers tracing patterns on his chest.

“But that’s where you’re wrong. You see the man, not Mad Max. You make me want to be better, on and off the track. And that ...” he pulls you closer, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, “... that makes all the difference.”

And in that moment, it’s clear to you too. The Mad Max reputation may never leave him but neither will the tender, caring Max you’ve come to love more than life itself. You’re the calm amidst his storm, the quiet in his chaos. And that’s something no one else sees or ever will. You are his anchor, his haven, and he is your love, your Mad Max.

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spitgobbler · 4 months

Text

Bunny Hop ! [rough ver.]

uh oh… Leon seems stressed. its a good thing he has a bunny to take it out on!

pairing: fem!reader x Leon Kennedy

tags: bunny hybrid, owner, biting/hickeys, knife, tactical gloves stay on, clit spanking, mean Leon, tail grabbing, p in v, mentions of breeding, reader is a bunny hybrid but gets put in doggy?! sweetness at the end 🫶🏻

note: my writing is a bit rusty so if you see a mistake, no you don’t 😭 also rough is kinda subjective but this is def rougher compared to the soft ver!

soft ver here!

masterlist

It was late, very late, and Leon still wasn’t home. The sun had gone down and the orange hues of the sunset went away and out came the moon and stars. It was way pass dinner too.

He messaged you briefly on the phone he got you once he took you in from the center, the purpose of it to remain in contact even when he was away for work, like today. Something about being held up and to be ready for him when he came home. Whatever that meant…

Leon’s messages were always short and simple over the phone, so you didn’t think much of it and just did as he said.

Laying there prettily on the couch watching some random movie on the TV in one of Leon’s shirts. It smelt like him and it just made you miss your owner even more. With his musk and cologne right on your nose because the article of clothing, it was hard not to let your fingers trail downwards to satiate yourself till he came home. But you were a good bunny and knew he would find out, leading to hours of denial instead. You shake the thoughts away and try to focus on the movie instead to forget that ache between your thighs.

Eventually, the door slammed roughly behind Leon when he finally arrived home, hinges squeaking from the abrupt strain. The sound causes you to jump from where you laid on the couch. He hasn’t said anything yet, and so with a twitch of your cotton tail and a cautious approach, you reach for his warm hand.

“O-Owner? Is everything okay?” You question softly, brows knitted as you look up at him.

Pure aggravation radiated off of him, his cock straining against his cargos. It was written all over his face that work was terrible today. Sure, his job wasn’t necessarily fun but it seemed like today was just a really, really bad day.

He releases an agitated sigh, free hand cupping your face and his lips press against yours hard. It’s steamy. Like you’re the ice to cool his heated emotions. He lets his actions speak for him.

You respond back to the kiss immediately, soft lips plush against his as your eyes flutter shut. Every question swirling in your mind about what has him so uptight flying out from Leon’s abrupt kiss.

Leon breathes out, his features tense. "I thought I said to be ready for your owner?”

His pretty blue eyes are dark when he looks into yours and it makes you feel that familiar feeling ignite in your core. Leon's calloused thumb rubs against your cheek gently before his hand teasingly trails down to your throat, his fingers ghosting around it possessively before moving away.

“Y-Yeah… I am.” You nod in a daze from the kiss. The affection making your heart thump from finally seeing the man you missed the most. Even if he was only gone for a few hours that day.

Your owner is the big bad wolf when he looks at you so angrily, so hungry. Strong arms and shoulders tense with frustration and aggression from a shitty day at work.

You know what he needs to make it all melt away. And so you let Leon snatch you up with his bruising hold, like you’re the prey and he’s the predator.

There’s no luxury of the soft blankets and pillows of Leon’s bed. He needed you now, and god, it was so primal how he pressed you against the couch beneath him in the living room. Hands finding purchase on his biceps when he cages you in and pressed harsh kisses and bites to your neck.

Tutting in disapproval, his hands push your thighs against your chest. Eyes widening and cheeks blushing at the stretch you feel in your legs. The gusset of your panties ruined with arousal, Leon lets out a deep groan at the sight.

“Next time,” Leon begins, his hands unsheathing his knife on his tactical belt, the sharp blade glinting in the light of the lamp. With care, he guides the sharpened edge to cut the cute panties off of you, his shirt you wore being cut shortly after as well, which left you bare underneath him.

“I mean that these better not be on you.” He murmurs, the knife sliding back into the sheathe.

You should be frightened by the way he used his blade to cut your clothes off impatiently but all it did was make you thankful he got them off so quickly.

It clicks in your head what his text meant now, but unfortunately, Leon is not in a forgiving mood. His calloused fingertips spank your clit and it’s like electricity sparking through your nerves. You jolt beneath him with a whimper and widened eyes.

“Owner, I didn’t know!” You try to protest.

Leon tuts once more, eye glimmering amused, “Is my poor bunny just as stupid as those rookies? It’s okay baby, I just gotta teach you for next time.”

More lashes of his fingers against your swollen clit follow, back arching with each spank. Your pretty little pussy quivering every time you feel the occasional leather texture of his tactical gloves.

“Good bunny, that’s it.” He praises, letting his digits slide over your wet folds as a reward.

He teases you, spitting right onto your cunny and smearing it all over, making you even more of a mess. His thick fingers spoiling you with such heated touches to your sweet spots.

A needy breathless whimper escapes, “T-Thank you, owner.”

The air is warm, heavy with intensity and you swear it’s almost like you’re in heat. Head gone in the clouds with an affectionate lust filled gaze. Leon always thought you looked so pretty like this. You were always pretty to him. But there was just something how you melted into a puddle of primal desires beneath him.

Slowly, he unbuckles his belt, slipping the long piece of leather out from each belt loop on his pants. He tosses it to the floor by the side of the couch, his own eyes trained on you.

Leon pushed you over onto your tummy and unzipped his trousers before freeing his aching length.

“You can thank your owner a different way.” He huffs, wanting nothing more than burying his pent up cock inside of you.

Your face burns at the position he has you in, features hidden against the cushions of the couch but your body on complete display. Hips raising from instinct, goosebumps form all over your heated skin when you feel one hand caressing your hip, knowing his other hand was occupied with smearing his precum all over his cock.

Leon groans deeply, lining the flushed tip of his cock with your needy entrance. His chest rising and falling with heavier breathes now. Leon’s gloved hand moves from your hip and up to the round stubby cotton tail above your plush rear.

A stuttered moan slipping when he grabs it but it’s quickly transformed into a lewd squeal when he uses it as leverage to yank you back and onto his cock.

No matter how many times your owner breeds and fucks you, there’s always a pleasurable stretch that makes your toes curl and your breath run away from your lungs.

Your sloppy little bunny pussy was molded and trained by him, there was no doubt about it. It causes his teeth to gnash together as a long guttural moan draws from his lips. His abdomen tensing at the relief of being inside his precious little breeding bunny after such a long day.

You whimper out sweetly, “Owner, please. I’ve missed you so much. Please move…”

Even if Leon wanted to instantly start pumping his leaking cock into your tight warm entrance, he knew he needed a moment. He always did. Each and every time he slid inside, it never failed to make him do a double take and cause him to almost shoot his load right away. He thought he was surely more experienced by now but you did always manage to make him feel younger.

“Mm, fuck.” He grits out. His fingers still curled around that cute cotton tail of yours and he uses it to make you fuck you back onto his fat cock.

The pace is slow and sensual but his grip on your tail is amplifying each drag of his cock against your inner walls, feeling every pulsing vein. It feels good and the only sounds you’re making is helpless whiny moans of pleasure. It’s good, really good, but you need more.

“Owner, c-come on. S’not enough, I need more of you owner.” A pathetic cry for your owner escapes.

He huffs audibly in frustration, “Greedy little bunny.” He places his other hand on your hip for support and snaps his hips harshly into you. “Shut up and fucking take it then.”

Loud slaps of sweaty skin colliding echo throughout the apartment, accompanied by erotic moans and whimpers and husky groans. Shutting up wasn’t an option for you with how his thick cock was filling you up and kissing at your cervix with each precise thrust.

Toes curling in delightful pleasure when he begins to fuck you how you pleaded for him to do. Soft bunny ears flopping around as your generous owner grunts from behind you.

Your jaw falls slack, erotic moans spill and overflow from your lips. “Owner, mm! I-I love it.”

A breathless chuckle escapes him at your messy slurred speech, completely dumb on his cock. You were being so loud though and you knew better. The apartment walls were paper thin with absolutely no sound proofing.

Strong hands reach for your trembling form, one arm around your waist, while he clamped his free hand around your mouth. Your sweaty nude body pressed back against his clothed chest, you try to whine when you realize he’s still in his work attire but it gets lost against his palm.

“I said shut up and take it didn’t I?” Leon breathes heavily in your ear, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine and your pussy quivering around him. “I don’t need to deal with a noise complaint on top of everything.”

With your torsos upright and pressed against one another, Leon lets his hips buck wildly. His gloved hand concealing your lewd noises. He loved the sound of them, you were like the sweetest songbird to him but now wasn’t the time.

That coil of undeniable release tightens in your core, tears forming in your eyes helplessly. The soft fluff of your bunny tail tickles against his clothed abdomen from the closeness of this position Leon has you in and you’re so close to heaven.

He feels that delicious clench and flutter of your greedy wet cunt around him, he’s right along with you. Heavy sensual breaths fall from your owner, he begins to whimper here and there.

“Fuck, that’s it.” His arm tightens around you.

All of the passion and frustration, the longing and affection comes to a boil, pussy gushing and strangling his cock as you orgasm. Leon keeps rocking his hips, guiding you through your messy release. After only a few more strokes his hold becomes bruising, shooting his warm seed inside and breeding you like a good owner should.

He presses his face into your neck, whining quietly. Fuck, it was always like this. Always milking him with that perfect pussy of yours. Neither of you would ever be satisfied with a partner that isn’t each other.

“Need it again, cum on my cock again.” He groans out.

Leon lets his fingers slip into your mouth and his other arm relax so he could reach down and rub messy circles on your sensitive clit, making you squeal. He wanted to go again but between the shit day at work and then coming straight home to breed the stress away. He would need some time, definitely wanting to fuck you to sleep later but he also wasn’t gonna stop till he felt you squirm and clamp down on his dick again.

Your head falls back as your cry out in pleasure, thighs twitching and trembling. Swollen clit so sensitive after just finishing but it made it feel so good at the same time. Leon rubs and caresses the most delicious circles with the perfect amount of pressure, the callouses on his hardworking hands causing that coil to form rapidly again.

“Owner, owner, oh my god!” You whimper incoherently, spit coating his fingers as Leon continues to silence your moans.

He pinches at your clit and everything falls apart once more. Leon gets what he wanted, relishing in the way he feels your sloppy spent cunt make a mess all over him and squeeze down.

Your hips jerk, helplessly squirming in pleasure while your second orgasm washes over and causes all your nerves to be sent into overdrive. Leon held you up with care, making sure your shaking form is supported.

“Good baby, so good for me.” Leon cooed, breathing still a bit labored.

When the quivering that accompanied your afterglows calms, he finally helps you to lay down and relax on the couch. Soft gentle kisses are pressed to your cheeks, contrasting to his previous behavior now that he was not as stressed anymore.

You smile sleepily at him, brain still mushy but your senses are coming back slowly but surely. Cheeks and body still warm from the intense passion but your breathing was returning to normalcy.

Leon soothes you, “You did so good for me. Such a sweetheart.”

Caressing your soft long bunny ears and murmuring sweet words to you after the deed. To him, it was one of the most important things to do, to make sure despite his words and actions, he loves you. It’s just the heat of the moment. And well, he knows you like it anyways.

#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy x fem!reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon kennedy x fem!reader smut #hybrid!au #bunny!reader

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tigertales9 · 9 months

Text

Hard Reset II

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Warnings: 18+ / Smut

Description: This fic covers the week 2 loss to the Ravens plus the lead-up to week 3 and the win against the Rams.

Time/Place: Sunday, Sep. 17, 2023 - Monday, Sep. 25, 2023 / Cincinnati, Ohio

A/N: This is a follow-up to Hard Reset

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sunday, 9/17/23 (just after the week 2 loss to the Ravens)

You wave to Joe's parents as they drive off down the street, eventually walking toward the house as your mind rewinds to the game …

Joe had performed better but was still clearly hampered by the injury, his limp worse than ever after he tweaked the bad calf trying to evade pressure. He'd asked you and his parents not to meet him in the tunnel after the game if the Bengals lost, so y'all went straight home, his parents deciding to drop you off and drive back to Athens instead of spending the night like they planned.

Once you're in the house you text Joe to let him know his parents decided to head home; you take a quick shower and change into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, fighting the urge to check social media to see what folks are saying about the game.

You eventually get a text back from Joe letting you know he's headed home; you pace back and forth until you hear the garage door open, your pulse picking up as he walks into the house, the jaunty curl gracing his forehead a stark contrast to his somber expression.

"Hey," you greet him, hurrying to give him a hug before looking up into his face. "Is it bad?" you ask.

"Well, it's not great," he snaps, wincing as soon as the words leave his mouth. "Sorry, I didn't mean to sound so rude."

"It's okay. I know you're frustrated," you soothe. "Do we need to do anything to it tonight? Massage? Elevation? Compression?"

He nods his head. "All of the above, although the massage isn't mandatory."

"Does it hurt?"

"It's pretty sore and tight, yeah," he admits. "How it responds in the next few days will decide if I'm playing next week or not."

You nod your head and bite your tongue. Surely he's not playing next week, right? you think to yourself, taking a deep breath as he studies your facial expression.

"What are you thinking?" he asks, a slight edge in his voice.

"I mean … you clearly tweaked it again. It seems to be getting worse not better. I just hope the medical team makes the right decision." He opens his mouth to retort but you quickly change the subject. "Are you hungry?"

He wrinkles his nose. "I'm hungry but nothing sounds good. Plus I need to go watch some film, and that will def make me lose my appetite." He walks a few steps toward the stairs before turning around and walking back; he leans down to drop a kiss on your lips, pulling back to search your face. "Don't worry," he orders, giving you a tiny smile before pressing another quick kiss on your lips.

You watch as he heads upstairs, taking them one at a time and clearly limping instead of bounding up them two at a time like he normally does. He makes eye contact with you just before he disappears, the defeated look on his face breaking your heart. Well shit, you think to yourself, feeling absolutely helpless to do anything to make him feel better.

You walk into the kitchen and spot your phone on the counter; you grab it and send a quick text to Joe's mom to let her know he got home okay. After that you head into the living room and plop down on the sofa, not really feeling like doing anything and not knowing when Joe will be done watching film -- could be thirty minutes, could be three hours. The only sure thing is he'll be in an even worse mood once he's done.

You heave a sigh and roll your shoulders, your eyes landing on a throw pillow as a thought hits you. "Oh yeah," you mutter, snatching the pillow off the sofa before heading for the stairs; you make a quick detour through the kitchen to grab a bottle of orange mango BodyArmor out of the fridge before making your way up to Joe's office.

He's changed into a t-shirt and shorts, a black compression sleeve visible on his right calf, ankle to knee. You quickly approach him and set the cold drink on a coaster on his desk before dragging an armchair over and dropping the pillow on it. "Elevate your leg," you urge, watching as he lifts his leg up and props it on the pillow. "Need anything else?" you ask. "I'm good, babe, thanks," he mutters, giving you a distracted smile before turning his attention back to the action on the screen.

You walk down the hallway to the master bedroom, crawling onto the bed as you decide to kill some time by scrolling your phone, strategically avoiding any and all football news.

You scroll for about forty minutes before remembering the chicken and dumplings in the fridge. You ease out of bed and creep down the hallway, wincing at the disgruntled grumbling noises coming from Joe's office. "Better call an audible," you whisper, heading downstairs to heat up the food instead of asking him if he's hungry.

You ladle a hearty portion into a saucepan and turn on the heat, smiling once it starts to simmer, the tendrils of fragrant steam wafting upward to work their magic. He has a nose like a bloodhound when it comes to food, and it's not long before you hear him ambling down the stairs

"What's that delicious smell?" he asks, sniffing the air as he walks into the kitchen.

"Your mom made you some chicken and dumplings."

"Really?"

"Yeah." You chuckle at the look on his face. "Brought 'em all the way from Athens in a cooler for her baby boy."

"That was nice," he mutters.

"Yes it was," you agree. "Have a seat," you continue, pointing at a barstool before you dish up his dinner; you set the bowl down in front of him, smiling when he grabs his spoon and tucks into it, making appreciative noises as he quickly demolishes the entire bowl.

"Pretty good, huh?" you ask.

"Delicious," he groans, rubbing his full belly. "You're not having any?" he asks.

"I ate earlier," you answer, not mentioning that your dinner was a few olives and a handful of cashews because your stomach was tied in knots from the game.

"I'm so fucking tired," he grumbles. "Too bad I need to watch more film tonight."

"Nope!" you blurt out, shaking your head. "Fuel and rest are the most important things for your recovery. You fueled up," you continue, shaking his empty bowl, "and now it's time to rest. You're gonna turn your phone off, brush your teeth then let me massage you until you're hopefully relaxed enough to fall asleep. You can watch more film tomorrow."

You turn to head to the sink before spinning back around. "One quick thing before you turn your phone off … send a text to your mom saying the chicken and dumplings were delicious and you'll call her tomorrow."

His mouth is hanging open at this point and he lets out a bemused chuckle. "Damn, woman, you're barkin' orders at me like a drill sergeant."

"Damn right," you grin before nodding at his phone. "Get to it, soldier."

Fifteen minutes later you finish brushing your teeth and walk into the bedroom, your eyes raking over Joe who is already laying face down on the bed wearing nothing but the black compression sleeve on his right calf.

"You want me to use the massage wand or just my hands?"

"Just your hands."

You slide your shorts off and straddle his waist, starting the massage at his neck and shoulders -- giving extra attention to his throwing shoulder -- before slowly working your way down his tall, muscular frame. It takes a lot of self-control not to lean down and sink your teeth into one of his perfectly plump cheeks, but you keep it moving, working both of his thighs and his good calf before concentrating on his strained calf, his little grunts and groans of pleasure going straight to your crotch.

"That's good, babe," he eventually mutters, rolling over onto his back, a sheepish smile gracing his lips when your eyes land on his impressive erection. "Just ignore that," he mumbles. "You're probably completely turned off by me since I've been playing so shitty," he continues, pulling the edge of the sheet over his crotch and a pillow over his face.

You grin to yourself knowing his sore ego needs massaging just as much as his sore body; you decide to lay it on thick while massaging his thighs "That's a load of bullshit and you know it," you scoff. "I was turned on the second I laid eyes on you at LSU -- before I knew you were a football player -- and that feeling only grew as I got to know you better." He makes a snorting noise that's muffled by the pillow as you continue. "That was back before you were Joe Shiesty or Joe Brrr, remember? Back when you were just an incoming transfer QB who'd been a benchwarmer at OSU for the previous three seasons."

He pulls the pillow off of his face and makes eye contact with you. "Keep talking," he mumbles.

"The fact you were on the football team was the least interesting thing about you as far as I was concerned, and I was attracted to you in spite of it not because of it."

""Cause you thought I was a fuck boy."

"I thought most college football players were fuck boys. Took me a minute to realize you were different."

"What made you realize I was different?"

Y'all have had this discussion before, but you lean into it because he clearly needs to hear it again. "You never pressured me for sex. Gave me plenty of time to get to know you first." You give him a naughty grin. "And then when we finally had sex you got me off with your fingers and tongue first, and then when you came in like five minutes you got me off again."

"You liked that, huh?"

"Loved it," you admit, continuing to work your way up his thighs.

"Thank God I lasted longer than five minutes for round two."

"You were amazing," you sigh, "and you're still mind-blowingly amazing, but being a generous lover is just the cherry on top. You're also kind, compassionate, gorgeous, intelligent, funny as hell." You scoot forward, smiling when he spreads his legs wider to accommodate you. "You can hold conversations on everything from SpongeBob to superluminal time travel," you continue, giving him a wink. "In other words you're the complete package. And win or lose, I'll always want you more than anything."

His breath catches in his throat when you slide the sheet to the side to uncover his erection, your eyes never leaving his as you lean down and slowly run your tongue base to tip, sucking the plump head just inside your mouth and swirling your tongue around it a few times while he groans his approval. You fully intend to give him some super sloppy, world-class head but he stops you just a few minutes in.

"That's so good, babe, but I need to be inside you," he moans. You hesitate for a second and he yanks the pillow back over his face, his voice muffled again. "I knew it. You're probably drier than the Sahara."

"It's not that," you soothe, trying not to laugh at his pity party theatrics. "I just don't wanna hurt your leg." You crawl up his body until you're straddling his hips before easing the pillow off of his face; you slip your t-shirt off and toss it on the floor, smiling when his gaze immediately drops to your bare breasts. You reach down and pull your panties to the side before nestling your slick folds against his erection, sliding up and down his hard length several times until he's coated in your juices. "Does this feel dry to you?"

"No," he mutters, dropping a hand down to push his tip just inside your wet heat; you take over from there, slowly impaling yourself on his thick shaft while he teases your sensitive nipples.

Once he's fully seated he gently rolls you onto your back. "Don't hurt your leg," you urge. "It's okay," he murmurs. "If I can play a football game I can make love to my wife."

"We're not married yet," you whisper. "Won't be until this off-season."

"Might as well be," he states, the intense look on his face as he locks eyes with you feeling even more intimate than his cock moving inside you.

About twenty minutes into making the kind of slow-burn love that makes your toes curl, he stops his thrusts while buried deep inside you and meets your gaze. "I gotta stop for a sec," he murmurs, licking his lips and giving you a smile. "I'm close and I don't wanna cum yet. You feel too good."

"Okay," you breathe, raising a hand to brush his unruly curls off of his forehead, biting your lip when your core involuntarily clenches around his thick length. "Sorry," you whisper at his sharp intake of breath. "Didn't mean to do that."

"It's okay," he soothes, dropping a lingering kiss on your lips before staring into your eyes, his expression hard to read.

"What are you thinking?" you ask. "That I'm lucky to have you," he answers, capturing your lips before you can return the sentiment; he deepens the kiss and resumes thrusting, groaning when you dig your heels into his back and arch up against him. "Jesus, I'm close," he grits out a little while later, dropping a hand down to tease your clit, his climax hitting a few seconds after yours.

After a few minutes of mutual heavy breathing he locks eyes with you again, his face so close to yours that you breathe each other's breath as you continue to recover from the intense climax. He eventually drops a kiss on your lips and rolls off of you, immediately pulling you against him, his big spoon to your little spoon; he buries his nose in your hair and inhales deeply a few times before speaking.

"This game will eventually chew me up and spit me out; it means a lot to know you'll always be there for me."

"Always," you echo back to him, a little overwhelmed at the raw vulnerability in his words, a vulnerability that he usually keeps to himself. You wonder if you should say something else. Maybe I should reassure him a little more? you think to yourself, breathing a sigh of relief when he let's out a tiny snore. Another twenty minutes pass before your mind quiets down enough for you to join him in sleep.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Monday, 9/18/23

The next day passes by quickly, and before you know it you're snuggled on the sofa with Joe watching the Browns vs Steelers on Monday Night Football. Early in the second quarter you're resting your head on his shoulder and barely paying attention to the game when he flinches hard. "Fuck!" he snaps, immediately turning the TV off when you ask "what happened?"

"Somebody got hurt," he answers.

"Why did you turn the TV off?"

"Because it's bad and I don't want you to see it."

"It was that bad?"

"Yeah," he nods, wincing as he watches the replay on his phone. "Nick Chubb got his knee caved in. Do NOT watch the replay, okay?"

"I hate this fucking game," you mumble, untangling yourself from his embrace before rushing upstairs, tears spilling down your cheeks as you curl up on the bed.

He walks into the room a minute later, stretching out beside you as you cry into your pillow. "I'm sorry I'm burdening you with my emotions," you sniff, burying your face deeper into your pillow. "You're not burdening me," he soothes, running a hand up and down your back. "I'm the reason you're worried, and I can't do anything about that, but at least let me hold you while you cry, okay?"

You eventually roll over and bury your face in his neck, crying harder for a few minutes before finally calming down, his warmth, his scent and his soothing words a balm to your frazzled nerves.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Tuesday, 9/19/23 - Saturday, 9/23/23

The next several days pass by uneventfully, with Joe heading out in the mornings after breakfast and not returning until dinner time, heading upstairs to his office after dinner to watch film while you throw yourself into a work project you volunteered for to get your mind off of other things.

You'd agreed not to ask about the status of his injury, instead trusting him to let you know if the status changed, one way or the other.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Sunday, 9/24/23

On Sunday he heads to Sam's house to watch football with some of the guys; you give him a kiss as he leaves, letting him know you're going out with the girls later for dinner and drinks.

Several hours later you wave goodbye to your friends as they drop you off in front of your house; you sashay up the stairs to the front door, the tequila in your system putting a little extra swish in your step. You unlock the door and twirl your way into the house, letting out a sharp squeal when you see Joe leaning against the wall. "Holy shit! You scared me!" you snap, your pulse picking up as he pushes away from the wall and approaches you.

"Why did I scare you?" he asks.

"I just … I thought you'd already be at the team hotel, so I wasn't expecting you to be home."

"I've got like two hours until curfew; you really thought I was gonna go there that early?"

You shrug. "Guess I thought wrong."

"Guess so," he mutters, giving you a thorough up-and-down look. "You look incredible," he continues, his gaze taking in your fitted wrap sweater, mini skirt and patent leather heels. He leans down to press a kiss on your neck. "How many guys hit on you tonight?"

"None," you snort. "We went to that dive bar & grill just down the street from Gina's house. It was practically empty except for us."

"I don't believe you," he whispers against your ear. "No way you didn't get hit on looking like this."

"Umm, I totally didn't get hit on." You lean back and lock eyes with him. "Where's this coming from? Are you drunk?"

"No, I'm not drunk. Are you?"

You shrug. "I'm a little buzzed. I had two margaritas, but I'm not the one making weird accusations. What's up?"

He takes a deep breath before responding. "I'm afraid you're gonna get tired of being in a constant state of anxiety and just decide I'm not worth it."

"Huh?" you mumble. "What are you talking about?"

"I just feel like you'd be happier with a guy who has a normal job -- like an accountant -- instead of having to be worried about me getting broke in half every week during the season."

"Nope," you chuckle, shaking your head. "I don't love your job but I love you."

"You're laughing but I'm serious."

"I'm serious, too."

He studies your expression for a few heartbeats before speaking up again. "What if I said I want to get a marriage license in the next few weeks and go down to the courthouse and get married?"

Your eyebrows head toward your hairline as you consider the question. "So no wedding?"

"We can still have a huge wedding, I just … what if we got married and didn't tell anybody. Just a secret between us."

You swallow hard as you contemplate his request, taking a deep breath before answering. "Okay," you chirp. "Let's do it!" The surprised look on his face making you giggle.

"What's so funny?" he asks.

"You bluffed and I called it," you giggle even harder, your stomach doing a flip at the serious look on his face. He braces a hand on the wall above your head then slowly moves forward, backing you up until there's barely breathing room between you; he licks his lips, his gaze dropping to your mouth before recapturing your gaze. "What makes you think I'm bluffing?" he asks.

You stare into his eyes for several seconds before looking down at your feet, the shiny patent pumps giving you an idea. "Sorry, I can't think straight when my feet hurt," you mutter, gasping when he immediately scoops you up bridal-style and heads for the living room, sitting you on the sofa before dropping to his knees at your feet.

The second he slides your heels off and starts massaging your feet with his talented fingers you know exactly where this is headed; it's been a couple days since y'all had sex, and that -- plus the tequila in your system -- pretty much guarantees that the next forty minutes are deliciously raunchy.

You untie your wrap sweater and unhook your front-clasp bra while he pushes your skirt up and slides your panties off, his eyes dark with arousal as he settles between your spread thighs, his tongue and fingers expertly bringing you to climax before he kisses his way down your legs and goes back to rubbing your feet.

You watch him for a few minutes as you come down from the orgasm, fully expecting him to pounce you once you catch your breath. When he doesn't make a move you take matters into your own hands, teasing your nipples while he watches then sliding a hand down to rub your clit, the sound he makes low in his throat causing your core to contract.

You slide a finger inside your slick heat, your breath catching in your throat when he leans forward and sucks your finger into his mouth, licking it clean before thrusting his tongue inside you, his big hands sliding up to tease your breasts as he brings you to the brink yet again; he shoves his shorts and undies down when you beg for his cock, burying his hard length deep inside you and riding you hard until you come apart, your fingernails digging into his muscular shoulders as he fucks you through the intense orgasm, his own climax hitting just a few heartbeats later.

After several minutes he locks eyes with you, smiling when you tweak the curl gracing his forehead. "You better get going," you whisper, biting your lip as he pulls out of you. "Let's take a quick shower together first," he orders, helping you off the sofa and ushering you upstairs.

He turns the shower on and steps inside. "You're gonna be a game time decision tomorrow, right?" you ask, stepping into the shower and leaning into him as he pulls you close. "Yes, ma'am," he answers. "You're gonna play, aren't you?" you whisper against his chest. "Yes, ma'am," he repeats, dropping a kiss on your forehead as you heave a sigh.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Monday, 9/25/23

You lean against the wall in the stadium tunnel, your entire body buzzing from the excitement of the electric atmosphere and the much-needed win over the Rams.

Joe was still hampered by the calf injury, but he seemingly got through the game without hurting it worse. That plus him and Ja'Marr hooking up for 141 yards was enough to put a goofy grin on your face. Your grin morphs into a huge smile when you see him approaching, his own face sporting a smile that will have the internet swooning, and rightfully so.

You hang back and let his parents hug him first, your pulse rate picking up when he locks eyes with you and steps forward, enveloping you in a tight hug before dropping a quick kiss on your lips. Your eyes go wide at the rare PDA. "I'm so p…proud of you," you sputter, more than a little flustered at the look on his face. "Thanks," he grins. "See you at home," he continues, leaning down until his mouth is touching your ear. "Hope you're not too tired," he whispers, his hot breath in your ear setting off a steady throb between your legs.

He leans back and takes in the look on your face, his eyes flicking down to your white knee boots and lingering there for a few heartbeats before he gives you a quick wink and heads toward the locker room.

~ ~ ~

Once back home you take a shower and crawl into bed, knowing Joe will come directly upstairs once he gets home, just like he always does when his parents spend the night after a late game.

It's not long before your phone rings; you check the display, butterflies taking flight in your stomach as you answer. "Hey babe."

"Hey," Joe says. "Are my parents still up?"

"No. They crashed like an hour ago. Your mom and I are gonna cook brunch tomorrow."

"Sounds great. Are you tired?"

"No," you whisper, your body reacting to his sensual tone.

"You still wearing those boots?"

"No. You want me to put 'em back on?"

"Yeah. Just the boots and nothing else."

"Yes, sir," you purr.

"I'll be there in ten minutes."

"Can't wait." You end the call and ease out of bed, walking into your closet to grab the white platform knee boots; you slide your panties off and step into the boots, fluffing your hair as you check your reflection in the full-length mirror, thanking your lucky stars that the guest room Joe's parents are sleeping in is downstairs and on the opposite side of the house.

A glint of light reflected in the mirror catches your eye and you look down, smiling when you realize it's your engagement ring. A thrill runs through you as you remember Joe calling you "my wife" just over a week ago when you were making love. You bite your lip when you think of just how close that is to being a reality, taking a deep breath as you let your mind rewind to earlier this morning.

~ ~ ~

He'd left the team hotel early this morning and dropped by the house to have breakfast with you like he always does for home games. He seemed more fidgety than normal, but you chalked it up to game day nerves until he cleared his throat and hit you with a serious question.

"What I said last night about getting married … we can do it during the upcoming bye week. We can apply for a marriage license and get married the same day."

You finished chewing a bite of waffle before swallowing and taking a gulp of orange juice, your mind racing as he continued.

"What do you say?" he asked. "Will you secretly marry me?"

"Yes!" you chirped, both of you grinning like idiots at each other at the thought of sharing such a delicious secret for several months until your actual wedding.

You bit your lip as another thought hit you. "What if some nosy asshole digs around and finds our marriage license? Are those public record?"

"Not if you have enough money."

"Oh, well I guess it's not a problem then, Mr. Money Bags," you teased.

"That'll be Mr. & Mrs. Money Bags in just a few more weeks."

~ ~ ~

You smile at your reflection as your mind snaps back to the present. You grab the black and white tiger-striped scarf you wore to the game and walk into the bedroom, draping the sheer fabric over your bedside lamp to add a little mood lighting, your pulse kicking into overdrive when you hear your soon-to-be husband's car pull into the garage.

#joe burrow #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine

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froggibus · 1 year

Text

The Mark of Greed - Mammon

Pairing: Mammon x reader

Genre: angst -> fluff, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 2.4K

Summary: mammon can’t help but notice that you refuse to talk about his pact mark, and he’s determined to find out why

CW: hurt/comfort, angst, violence (reader gets attacked by demons), mutual pining, self deprecating thoughts, arguing/yelling, angsty! Mammon, love confessions, misunderstandings

i definitely did not write all of this at 3am. nope. idk i had this image in my head of soft! Mammon tracing your pact mark and telling you he loves you so here it is lol. i got super carried away and ended up making this super long too oops

————

The best kept secret in the Devildom, aside from Satan’s pet cat, was your pact mark. Not just any pact mark—no, it was the shimmering gold one that marked Greed. Right from the day you got it, you knew you should keep it hidden.

Always wearing clothes to strategically cover it, lying, deflecting and giving different answers every time someone would ask. Mammon watched all this, and said nothing. Sure, it was a little funny, but it also made him wonder.

Did you hate him? Was the mark of greed as awful as he always thought it was? Was his touch so ugly and toxic that you didn’t want anyone to know about it?

Maybe his brothers were right. Maybe there was something wrong with him. You were so open about your pacts with his brothers, gladly showing them the swirling coloured patterns that marked your body. You showed them off unashamedly, proudly displaying the marks as part of yourself.

It made him jealous, really. You were his human. You were his first. His pact was your first—so why did you hate it so much? He always pegged envy as Leviathan’s emotion, but the more he watched, the more he realized his turmoil was enough to rival the otaku himself.

You first notice Mammon withdrawing after you show a demon in class your pact mark with Beel. An orange sigil just above your belly button that you displayed proudly with crop tops and bathing suits. You could feel Mammon’s eyes on you the whole time, watching you as you explained the beauty behind the mark.

“It’s not just cause he’s the Avatar of Gluttony,” you explain, fingers tracing the orange outline. “But it also relies on emotions. In this case, the comfort he brings me is like having a full stomach. It sits right at my core because he’s my support.”

You swear you see blue eyes roll to your left, but you shrug it off. He’s probably just upset because Lucifer confiscated Goldie again. Still, you can’t help but think he’s jealous of the way you’re talking about Beel.

When you walk home later that day, Mammon is short with you. He barely acknowledges you or responds to anything you say, instead he slumps his shoulders and shrugs you off.

“Mammon, is everything okay? You seem…upset,” you note.

“The Great Mammon? Upset?” He tsks, “maybe your time in the Devildom has made you dumber, y/n.”

“I was just checking on you…”

You don’t wait for him to say anything else and instead throw open the front door and stomp to your room in silence. If he wants to be a jerk, you’ll let him be a jerk.

You practically throw your backpack across the room and slump on your bed. One of your pact marks aches and the thought makes you cringe. Of course it’s that one.

Ever since you got it, you’ve tried so hard to keep it hidden. Not even telling Mammon himself where it is. I mean, if he knew, what would he even say? You could almost hear his voice in your head telling you that you’re delusional to think you could ever be with him, dismissing your feelings and breaking your heart.

You get up and sit in front of the mirror, pulling off your shirt so that you can examine your skin. There, sitting above your heart, is the golden mark of Greed. You trace it lightly. It’s always been your favorite, the colour and the design by far the prettiest. You just wish it wasn’t where it was.

When you first got the mark, when you felt it sear itself into your skin, you knew what it meant. It was a visual representation of the butterflies in your stomach and the clenching in your heart every time you saw the Avatar of Greed.

Still, you found yourself flipping through the pages of Satan’s personal collection. You honestly hoped it was just random, a weird coincidence or a mistake—but the books said otherwise. They confirmed your fear.

When the others started to make pacts with you, you worried the same thing would happen. That they would show up in the same place or worse. You can still remember the immense relief you felt when you made your pact with Levi and have the mark show up on your thigh.

Levi was so excited to ask about his mark and when you let him touch it? He almost exploded. That was the first time Mammon asked you about his mark, and it was the first time you lied to him.

You groan in frustration and pull your shirt back on, trying to blink away the image of his branding. A part of you always wanted to tell him, to show him and have him touch it. But the other part couldn’t get it out of your head that you’re just a burden to him. You’re his responsibility and that’s the only reason he hangs around you.

You only wish things could be simpler.

—

Mammon slams the door to his room and sinks down against it. He tugs on his white hair so hard it hurts, but the pain isn’t enough to wash away the frustration bubbling in his chest.

Why did he have to be so mean to you?

Maybe if he was nicer you wouldn’t hate him or his pact mark. Maybe if he was nicer to you he might actually have a chance of being with you.

The sound of his voice rings in his ears, echoing off his skull. He hates it. He hates how mean he was to you, and the guilt eats him up.

Finally, it becomes too much and he forces himself to his feet. He should apologize to you. Because Lucifer would kill him if he knew how mean he was being…not for any other reason.

You open the door to see him standing in front of you, fidgeting with his hands. “What’s up?”

“I—Lucifer would be mad at me if I didn’t apologize to you,” he says, eyes focused on his shoes. “‘N I don’t wanna be strung up tonight so I’m sorry human.”

“It’s fine. Just—why were you so upset earlier, anyways?”

He shrugs his shoulders, still avoiding eye contact with you. How can he tell you that he’s jealous and angry that you don’t want to show off your pact mark? It’ll make him sound like a little kid.

“Mammon, come on. It’s just me.”

He sighs, “not that I care but I don’t get why you hate my pact so much.”

You freeze, your blood like ice in your veins. All this time you’d been withdrawing from him, you knew he noticed but because he never said anything, it was easy to ignore. Not anymore.

“I-I don’t hate it.”

“Then why do you never show anyone?”

“It’s just,” you shrug, “in a weird spot. I don’t know—I don’t hate it. I just don’t want to show it off.”

“Because it’s ugly, right?”

“Mammon—“

“Why would anyone want to be marked by Greed?”

“Mammon—!”

“Imma dirty scumbag anyway. Making a pact with you was the most selfish thing I ever did. Tying you to me for life, why would you ever want that?”

“Mammon, Jesus. Just listen to me!”

The demon stops his self deprecating rant, staring at you expectantly. He doesn’t know what you’re about to say, but all he can hope is for you to tell him that’s it’s not true. That it’s not ugly, that you want to be tied to him.

Your words fail you. You interrupt his rant and suddenly your mouth goes dry under the gaze of his blue eyes and your words all fall away. Your heart beats a mile a minute, drawing more of your focus to the pact mark that connects the two of you.

You stare at each other for a minute, and then Mammon turns on his heel and storms out of the room.

It takes you a minute to process what just happened, and another minute for you to follow him. By the time you make it to the staircase, he’s already slamming the front door shut behind him.

Everything is moving so fast. The illusion that you were protecting yourself from Mammon hating you has shattered—replaced by the realization that you’ve been hurting him this whole time. You can’t think of anything except for how to make this right.

Without thinking about it, you follow him out of the door and into the streets of the Devildom. It’s dark out and you have to squint to see the familiar white hair receding into the distance. You pick up the pace, wanting to catch him before he disappears.

You’ve never been outside alone before. It’s too dangerous, they always said. But that’s the furthest thing from your mind right now. All you want is to make things with him better.

“Mammon!” You call, heading up the hill behind him.

When you get to the top, the demon is no longer in sight. You spin around to see if he doubled back to the house, only to realize it’s no longer in sight either. The horrible realization that you’re lost starts to set in and you find yourself reaching into your pocket for your DDD—only to remember you left it in your backpack.

There’s a hissing noise nearby and you’re suddenly acutely aware of how vulnerable you are here. Without thinking, you start to run back the way you think you came. You hear two pairs of footsteps behind you, they’re gaining on you. Whatever is chasing you, it’s going to catch you.

A clawed hand takes your back and hot pain erupts within you. You fall to your knees and scream, warm blood trickling down your back.

You try to get back up but you’re shaking so badly that your knees refuse to cooperate. There’s two demons behind you, only vaguely humanoid with glowing eyes and flickering tongues. They’re speaking, but not in any language you understand.

They circle around you, taking some sort of sick amusement in watching their prey cower. One of them lashes out at your chest, three claws slicing the front of your shirt and causing blood to pool down your chest and stomach.

You reach up to clutch the wounds, your fingertips brushing against the golden pact mark. I’ll never get to tell him how I feel, you realize.

“I’m sorry, Mammon,” you murmur, tracing your pact mark one last time.

A jolt of energy rushes through you followed by intense golden light in front of you. You squeeze your eyes shut, waiting until it dims to open them again. When they’re open, you see Mammon in demon form, standing between you and your attackers.

All it takes is a flick of his hand before they erupt into dust. You knew he was powerful, but seeing him in action only confirmed the fact.

“Mammon..?”

He drops to his knees in front of you, his hands frantic as they search you for injury. His fingertips fall on your open shirt and clawed chest. “You’re hurt…”

“I’m sorry, Mammon,” you mumble.

“I know.” He says, “let’s just get you home, okay?”

He scoops you up in his arms effortlessly, holding you close to him. You’re sure your blood is dripping all over him and wrecking his new shoes, but you’re too disoriented to care.

Mammon sets you down on the counter in the bathroom, “move your hand, alright? I gotta make sure you’re not gonna die.”

Without thinking about it, you move your blood coated hand off of the pact mark. Mammon slowly peels off your shredded shirt, his eyes going wide when he sees what your hand was covering.

Somewhat hidden by the blood and fabric yet unmistakable, is a golden mark. Not just any golden mark—his golden mark. His pact mark and its above your heart?

His hands shake as they brush the outline of it. “My—my pact mark is on your heart?”

You bite your lip and nod slowly, looking anywhere but at him.

Mammon is in complete disbelief. This whole time he thought his feelings were one sided, that you hated him and hated his pact even more. But to find out that it’s on your heart of all places—right as he almost lost you? He’s almost entirely overwhelmed by his feelings.

His hands shake the whole time he bandages and disinfects you, his mind only set on the branding above your chest. When he’s done fixing you up, he can’t stop staring at it.

“You got lucky that the Great Mammon was here to protect you today,” he tries to play it off.

“I-it was only cause I summoned you with the pact.”

The mention of the pact makes his head spin again. His mouth is suddenly dry and his hands sweaty.

“Mammon,” you mumble, still unable to look at him, “please say something.”

His voice is low. “Do you know what it means when a pact mark forms over your heart?”

You shake your head, butterflies erupting in your stomach.

He reaches out to trace the swirling lines of the mark, his touch featherlight. “It means I’ll always be there for you, y/n.”

His tone is serious, unlike anything you’ve heard from him before. You don’t dare move or interrupt him, wanting to hear what the demon has to say.

“It means that I’ll never let anyone hurt you,” he mumbles. “That I’ll take care of you no matter what. It means that you own me. It means that I—“ he swallows hard, looking at the floor. “I love you, y/n. Now and forever.”

You flinch at his words. They’re all you wanted to hear and yet hearing them has awakened something inside of you.

Your eyes finally meet his. “You—you really mean it?”

“I love you,” he gently kisses the centre of his mark on your body. “I love you.”

“Mammon,” you say, “I love you.”

Mammon might burst at your words. He reaches up to cup your face, planting a needy kiss on your lips. His touch is desperate, needy, way overdue. You melt into him, his taste so familiar and comforting that you don’t need to think twice about it.

Mammon smiles against you. If you had asked him a week ago, he would say that his pact with you was the most selfish thing he’s ever done. Looking at you now, though, he sees it as a sigil of his love for you, and what could be more selfless than that?

#obey me x reader #obey me oneshot #obey me x you #obey me fic #mammon #mammon x you #mammon x reader #mammon fluff #mammon avatar of greed #mammon angst #obey me headcanons #obey me #house of lamentation #obey me devildom

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biolumien · 4 days

Note

Hi omg your writing is amazing. Thank you for serving us some good food. Was wondering if you could do a prompt with Vice Captain Hoshina and a reader with glasses?

I've recently been diagnosed with really bad eyesight. Enough for me to get a disability card. And suddenly it makes sense why I always struggle to find people in crowds or from a distance. Was wondering if you could do write something related to it? Like maybe reader lost Hoshina in a crowd. And because their vision is super blurry even with glasses, its hard to make out where he is and stuff.

I recently read your Samurai Hoshina fic and it was divine. 🙏 Keep it up you are a godsend.

notes: hihi, thank you for your request and your kind words ;-;; i hope this is okay; i wrote a little drabble so i hope it's okay🙏...!

found you!

soshiro hoshina x gn!reader mentions of a constricting, tight crowd that might be uncomfortable if you have claustrophobia and the like ;-; word count: 708

you wish you hadn’t lost hoshina in the crowd after all. when the kaiju attack was called, he’d leaped into action, even off-duty, pulling off his button-down shirt to reveal the izumo tech suit still underneath.

“stay here. i’ll come back for you later. i promise.” he’d kissed you on the head, despite your growing protests that it wasn’t safe, and quickly before pulling out his twin katanas and pushing deep into the scattered crowd to confront the kaiju threat. it’d been hard to see the fight in the distance, but you thought you saw a gigantic plume of smoke forming a hazy mirage over the horizon, and the faint flickering of orange and yellow of a possible fire. it’d terrified you, but hoshina could handle himself. you knew that much.

but now that the kaiju had been dispersed, you still saw no sign of him. you’d been corralled away along with the rest of the civilians towards a shelter, but when the defense force officer in charge of overseeing your shelter came back with the announcement that civilians were free to return back outside, hoshina was still nowhere to be found. when you’d asked the defense force officer if there was any sign of hoshina, he’d simply shrugged.

“i thought he was off duty for today.”

decidedly unhelpful, but what made it worse was that you couldn’t really parse through the crowd at all. you were surrounded by a horde of strangers, each of their features as blurry and indistinct as the next, trying to ignore the pounding in your heart. hoshina’s red eyes, the warmth of his smile. he’d said he’d come back, and there was no way he’d let just any old kaiju kill him. that was utterly impossible, right? you swallow, trying to ignore the rising panic in your chest.

and somehow, the crowd, seeming to respond to your panic, only seemed to thicken, pressing up against you.

“sorry, sorry,” you murmur weakly as you bump into a stranger. “sorry. i’m–i’m just trying to–”

the words soon die on your throat as someone from the back of the crowd continues to push you forward. you look around, cursing the fact that you couldn’t see where anything was too distinctly–you don’t even think you remember the signposts that were close to you when hoshina told you to stay put. your pace falters for a moment, as you try to gather your bearings–but before you can, you get slammed so hard from behind that your glasses fall off your face, skittering to the ground.

you drop down, trying to feel for them, because suddenly your head hurts and you don’t know what to do. you think something like a strangled sob leaves your lips.

“found you.”

you look up towards the source of the voice, even your peripheral vision blurry enough that you could only make out a vague dark shape on your shoulder, and another dark shape wrapping around your wrist–a hand, thankfully–pulling you to your feet.

“hoshina,” you say, relief creeping into your voice.

“hey,” hoshina says softly, tender fondness in his voice. your hands fumble, not quite sure what to do, and you can feel the soft subtle breath of hoshina’s shaking laugh. “lean forward for me?”

you do, and hoshina places your glasses back on your face, his fingers gentle.

he seems thankfully unharmed as he comes back into focus, but your hands reach up to touch his face, to map the way his cheekbones feel against your thumbs.

“why the hell did you run off like that?” you ask, slapping your hands on his face with a little more force. he winces, laughing–you feel the corners of his lips quirk up, the way his cheeks press up as he smiles. “and you left me, too!”

“i’m sorry,” hoshina says, only sincerity in his voice. “i didn’t mean to leave.”

“i know you didn’t–you couldn’t have predicted the kaiju attack–but don’t just rush off without giving a more concrete plan of where you’ll be,” you scold. “i don’t think my heart could take if if i couldn’t find you again.”

hoshina nods, leaning forward to press his forehead to yours.

“i’m sorry,” he murmurs quietly. “i’ll always find you, okay? i promise.”

#kaiju no 8 #soshiro hoshina #soshiro hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader #kaiju no 8 x reader #x reader #kn8 x reader

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jjungkookislife · 3 months

Text

Tongue Like Candy Pt. 2 [Final]

ღ pairing: yoongi x f. reader

ღ genre: angst with a happy ending, brother's best friend au, smut [18+]

ღ summary: The last person you expect to see at your college graduation is the man who broke your heart three years ago. Despite the heartache you both went through, you can't stay away from each other. Will your brother be the obstacle in your relationship with Yoongi, or will it work out this time?

ღ wc: 15.8k

ღ warnings: pet names (princess, baby, babe), virgin!reader, age gap, sexual thoughts, corruption kink, self-deprecation, jealousy, masturbation, alcohol mention/use, food mention, mention of jimin x f. reader, hair pulling, marking (hickeys, biting, scratching), dry humping, shared shower, shirt used as a mouth gag, choking, fingering (f. receiving), oral sex (f. giving and receiving), protected sex, first time

ღ Date: March 9, 2024

ღ read part one here

And despite the ache in your heart that lingers and stings for the next three years, that’s exactly what happens.

It was just a one-time thing.

“Fucking finally!” you throw your cap in the air to the mix with everyone else’s not caring where yours landed before you push through the graduates to get a head start in leaving— ducking, and dodging professors on your quest to the door.

You had agreed to meet your family in the car, not wanting to spend an hour or more searching for them in the crowd of parents who are looking for their graduate as well. Nah, you had learned from high school.

“You should have tried out for track. I could barely keep up, princess.” You freeze, not wanting to turn around because you knew that voice anywhere and if you turned to face him, it would mean he was here for you and you’re not sure you could cope.

The last time you had seen him was well over three years ago. You had made it a point to avoid him at all costs, even turning down gatherings with your brother so you wouldn’t be bombarded by the events that had transpired on the night following your graduation party.

You couldn’t escape him, couldn’t run anywhere. With a deep breath, you turn around to face him for the first time, and it’s no shock when he takes your breath away.

“Yoongi.” his name rolls off your tongue easily, your heart hammering against your ribcage.

“Wow!” he exclaims, cheeks turning pink right after. “You’re even more beautiful than I remember.”

You wish you could respond, say thank you, say anything. You’re unable to, taken aback by his beauty. This man only gets more and more scrumptious with age, huh? The last time you’d seen him, his hair had been orange—a menace to society. Now, his hair was back to black and deliciously long; you couldn’t help but think he was hot as fuck with his natural hair color.

“Thank you,” you murmur, feeling overwhelmed. You look past him, seeing the doors open to let the parents out, and you know you’ll have a buffer in just a few minutes.

“I hope it’s okay that I’m here. Your brother invited me, and I know we haven’t talked since…” Yoongi trails off, licking his lips. He runs his hand through his hair and you notice that he’s gotten much buffer since the last time you saw him, his suit jacket straining on his biceps. You remember what he’d felt like on top of you, cock rubbing against your wet cunt.

“Since you fucked my mouth,” you finish, instantly regretting it when his eyes widen and his jaw drops.

“Geez, princess. I wasn’t gonna be that crude about it,” Yoongi laughs, shaking his head. Good to know you hadn’t changed a bit since he stuffed his cock in your mouth, as you so politely reminded him.

“Yikes!” you grimace, smiling sheepishly after.

Yoongi laughs, throwing his head back. “You haven’t changed a bit, huh?”

“Not really,” you shrug. “Other than cutting my hair.”

“It’s cute,” Yoongi is quick to say.

“Thanks. And thanks for coming. You didn’t have to.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, princess. I’ve missed you,” he admits easily with a shrug, and your heart thumps extra heavily.

You’re unsure what demon possesses you, because you step forward, forgetting about all your conflicting feelings as you wrap your arms around his neck, lips pressed to his. It takes Yoongi by surprise, but his arms easily find their way around your waist, kissing you back just as eagerly.

Just like that, the chemistry between you sparks once again. Yoongi holds you tight in his embrace, lips moving in sync with yours as your fingers toy with his hair, just as soft as you remember. You want to drown in his essence, kiss him within an inch of his life as your body arouses feelings you haven’t experienced since that fateful day.

“I-” you start as you unwrap yourself from Yoongi, taking a step back to put some much-needed distance between you.

“Hey, brat! Congrats!” Your brother cheers as he approaches you. He tugs you into a hug and you wonder if he witnessed your exchange with his best friend.

“Hey! Thanks, I’m so happy to be done with school. I busted my ass to graduate a year early.” you smile as your parents join you.

The five of you take pictures, soon joined by Jimin and Taehyung, who bring along their families. And like your high school graduation, there’s a party at your house tonight with all your friends and family invited. That includes Yoongi.

Over the past three years, you’ve managed to avoid him completely, which was easy, considering your brother wasn’t in town too often. Plus, being a college student meant you spent a lot of your time on campus, so even if your brother was in for a (short) visit, you could use school as an excuse.

Should you have talked to Yoongi? Sure. You probably could have found any of his socials if you tried, but it’s not like he was reaching out either. Your brother was more important than some romp in your room, of that you were sure. So why did it sting to know Yoongi wasn’t calling?

To make matters worse, the moment you step into your home, you’re left alone in the hallway with Yoongi. His gaze follows yours, staring at your bedroom door, his cheeks flushing as he looks away, only to lock eyes with you.

So many thoughts run through Yoongi’s head, so many unspoken words he wishes he could have said, and yet, there’s nothing but silence.

It’s in this silence that his thoughts stray, memories of that night seeping into the forefront of his mind.

The beating of his heart reverberates against his chest like a rhythmic drum, and the warmth that spreads through his veins is nearly too much, but the feel of your mouth on him easily combats that, yearning for more heat.

Your kisses are still a little awkward, but you mimic his movements easily, even brushing your tongue against his and taking a nip of his bottom lip. He notes the way you moan against him when he groans deep in his chest, arousal wetting your thighs.

When you take his cock in your mouth, he says your name in a way that would embarrass him if he were with anyone else. He doesn’t think of himself as a Casanova, but every girl is a new experience, and when it’s with someone you have feelings for—whatever they may be—it’s out of this world. He doesn’t want his heart to get in the way of whatever this is because you’re batting your lashes and pouting when he doesn’t react right away to the languid movement of your hand on his length.

A pouty frown sits on your pretty lips, tongue peeking to lick at them as you wait for him to give you his undivided attention once again. You’re so pretty on your knees, drooling over his cock, the excitement of doing more evident on your face.

By no means was this the best blowjob he's ever gotten, but what you lacked in skill you made up in enthusiasm. Besides, how could Yoongi ever compare you to anyone else when you were the only one who had his heart beating as rapidly as it was, new feelings arousing in him that he’d never felt before? You were incomparable.

“Make yourself at home,” your brother shouts from the top of the stairs, and you use that chance to run off to your bedroom, avoiding being in Yoongi’s presence for the time being. You know you won’t be able to avoid him for too long, but you just need a moment to catch your breath.

Yoongi watches you run off, wincing when the bedroom door slams shut and he’s left alone. Sure, he’s been in your home since that night, but never with you still in it. There had always been some excuse when Yoongi came around, some paper, some midterm, some way to avoid him.

You were always in his thoughts, from the moment he woke until the moment he went to bed, sometimes with his hand wrapped around his hard cock, reminiscing about your lips.

Day and night he tried to get his thoughts together, to piece every bit of himself into a picture, map out all his feelings, and decipher them before he made an even bigger mistake.

Yoongi typed up what he wanted to say to you in his notes app, locked for his eyes only, but courage always failed him. Time and time again, he’d copy the words, all ingrained in his mind as he hovered over your Instagram, wishing he wasn’t such a sucker and could just send the damn message. Back and forth he went each day, thoughts growing darker and darker.

You’re bothering her.

She doesn’t like you.

Leave her alone.

Despite those thoughts, Yoongi finds himself in front of your bedroom door, his fist raised to knock when the door opens, startling you and him.

“I-” he starts, looking at you as he licks his lips. Your gaze catches his lips, your hand reaching out for his shirt, tugging him into your bedroom before shutting the door after him.

“Yoongi,” you breathe his name, lips on his instantly as you push him onto your bed. Yoongi grips your waist, kissing you back as you settle over his lap.

This is wrong.

There’s so much left unsaid.

You need to leave.

His thoughts overwhelm him and he’s pulling away slowly, regretfully. He doesn’t miss the disappointed look that flashes across your face before you put your defenses back up.

Yoongi watches you as you get off his lap and move across the room. You’re pacing back and forth, and he eyes you warily. Of course, he’d love to smother you in kisses and hold you in his arms. Take you to bed until his name is all you can say, but he can’t.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, and his eyes widen as he meets your gaze. “I shouldn’t have kissed you at graduation or now.”

“Princess,” he starts, but you cut him off.

“I’m sure you have better things to do than be here with me. I won’t let this happen again. I'm sorry.”

“Princess, just let me talk to you. There’s nothing to apologize for unless you’re dating someone?” Yoongi’s words feel like a knife is in his throat as he says them, and he bites his lip as he awaits your answer.

“No.” you shake your head. As if there could ever be anyone else when you’ve spent the last three years dreaming of seeing him again, of kissing him.

Okay, there was that brief make-out session with Jimin that one time, but that was just for fun. Yoongi doesn’t have to know about that.

“No?” Yoongi repeats, almost hopeful. He swallows thickly, running a hand through his hair, and he doesn’t miss the way your eyes follow the movement. He clenched his hands, veins prominent, and smirks when you nearly salivate over it.

“Has there been anyone since?” It’s none of his business. He knows it’s none of his business, but fuck, he wants to know. He needs to know if anyone else has touched you like he did—if they’ve fallen for you as he had, and if they still think of you.

“Yes,” you answer, and his world shakes. That’s not the answer he was expecting, but he knows it was bound to happen after all.

“Oh,” his dejected sigh fills the space between you.

“It didn’t mean anything. It’s stupid, so stupid,” you laugh as you grip your hair in your hands and squeeze. “But I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since and I thought kissing someone else would fix it but it didn’t. Nothing ever did, and it hurts, Yoongi. It hurts to know we couldn’t have been anything, and it hurts to know I was so easy to forget.”

Yoongi stands. “Easy to forget?”

You nod.

“Easy to forget?” He repeats with a scoff. “If you’re so easy to forget, why have I been thinking about you every day since then? Why have I been hoping you’d call or message me, so I could see you again? You dodged every opportunity you could to see me and I thought that’s what you wanted, so I backed off. After all, I wasn’t trying to force my way into your life. But you are in no way easy to forget and if that’s what you think, then I haven’t done a good job of proving just how unforgettable you are, princess.”

You’re utterly stunned by his words. You blink, moving on autopilot as you grip him by the shirt, only hesitating for a split second before his hands grip your face. The heated stare he rewards you with leaves you breathless. The last time you’d seen him looking this intent, this serious, was that night in your bedroom and as those thoughts come to mind, you slam your lips on his.

Your lips are on his instantly, moving perfectly with his in a more practiced way than before. Yoongi bites back the jealousy he feels because you weren’t his and whoever taught you this was a figureless head in his mind. However, that does little to quell the jealousy that bubbles deep in his abdomen as his fingers grip your hair to hold you in place.

Yoongi allows you to lead after a beat, curious to see what else you’ve learned in his absence. His hands grab your hips, holding you to him as your tongue prods his lips apart when he makes no move to do so.

For a few moments, you allow yourself to forget all the pain and sorrow you went through. Kissing Yoongi feels just like the first time, but so much better. This time you’re not fumbling around, wondering if you’re doing it correctly or if it’s a massive failure. This time you kiss him with confidence, your fingers threading through his hair as you pull him close, teeth gently nipping on his bottom lip just to hear him groan, ending the kiss so he can press his forehead to yours. His gaze burns deep into your soul, and you wonder how you could have lived without this man for so long. Feelings you swear you buried away begin to rise to the surface, and as you keep your gaze locked on his, you realize just how fucked you are, because this time—this time—you know you won’t recover from the heartbreak again.

“Yoongi?!” You both step away from each other at the sound of your brother’s voice. Your heart is thundering in your chest and Yoongi echoes it. He runs a hand through his hair, looking in the mirror in your bedroom before he slowly opens your bedroom door.

Your brother is at the top of the stairs, calling out to Yoongi again.

“Coming!” Yoongi looks at you one last time, a frown on his lips. Would it always be like this?

“Go,” you mouth, and he nods. He hesitates, but Yoongi gets called again.

He curses, “I’ll talk to you tonight, princess. Please wait up.”

You nod before urging him to go. Your brother’s footsteps are growing louder as he rounds the landing.

“Dude, what took you so long?” Your brother asks, annoyed, as he finally looks up from his phone. “I need help getting the drinks in the cooler. Let’s go!”

“Sorry, I had to go to the bathroom.” Yoongi shrugs but follows your brother out of the house and to the car.

You watch them go, shutting your bedroom door and leaning against it. Your lips still tingle from his kiss, and you hate yourself for feeling this way again. You had never really moved on from Yoongi or from that night. You had tried fooling yourself into believing you had, but seeing him again, kissing him, brought back all those feelings tenfold and you knew you were screwed.

Fuck Min Yoongi.

“Babe! Why are you hiding in here?” Taehyung asks as he steps into your bedroom hours later. You’d hidden for most of the night, which was unusual, seeing as it was a party to celebrate you.

“You know this party is for you, right?” Jimin asks as he follows Tae and shuts the door after himself.

“It’s for you guys too,” you answer weakly as you lay back on your bed. You miss the look of concern exchanged between both your friends as they climb onto the bed. Jimin on your left and Taehyung on your right.

“Okay, spill it,” Jimin demands as he turns to his side, resting his elbow on the bed and his head in his palm

“Yeah, and don’t even think about lying,” Taehyung states firmly, knowing his bull shit meter will catch it.

“Yoongi kissed me,” you admit softly.

Jimin raises a brow. “At your last graduation? We know that.”

“Is the party bringing back memories?” Taehyung asks curiously.

“No. I mean, he kissed me. Today,” you emphasize.

“Wait.” Jimin hops off your bed. “That bastard’s here?”

Taehyung gets off the bed as well, heading to your bedroom door before you scramble to stop them.

“Stop! Don’t go out there.”

“He kisses you and then leaves you again? I’m rocking his shit up! He can’t do that to you again! We won’t allow it!” Jimin is fuming. Taehyung nods in agreement. You had been broken up about that night and not seeing Yoongi after. You wallowed in your sadness, wondering if you hadn’t been good enough or if he hated you. Your best plan of action was to avoid him at all costs, which you did successfully until today.

Jimin and Taehyung had been around to pick up the pieces and glue them back together. They hated how this situation had affected you. They knew you couldn’t separate your actions from your feelings and, try as you might, your denials just proved empty. Because you did have feelings for Min Yoongi. You always had and your little diary proved it and it was cemented further that night. It may not have meant much to Yoongi, having been more experienced, but it meant something to you.

Yoongi was the first and only one you had gone that far with. Sure, you had made out with Jimin once, but it didn’t compare to Yoongi. Don’t tell Jimin, though.

“He wants to talk later,” you whisper.

Taehyung clicks his tongue. “So he can leave for another 3 years? I don’t think so.”

“He’s right, babe. We can’t keep you from doing what you want. And we’ll support your decisions, but just tread lightly, okay? Don’t fall for his charms so easily,” Jimin warns before he’s wrapping you up in a hug.

“You’re our baby.”

“I love you guys. Now go out and have fun. I’m gonna freshen up and meet you out there, okay?” You force a smile and they nod, kissing your cheek before stepping out of your bedroom.

Jimin and Tae remain at your side for a while until you’re caught in a conversation with relatives, and you forget about Yoongi even being in attendance. You decide to enjoy yourself and worry about him tomorrow.

Or so you thought.

With an empty cup, you head to the kitchen for a refill. You’re quite surprised to see it’s vacant as you go to the counter to make a drink.

“Have you been avoiding me?” you curse when you hear his voice. Hands shaking with nerves, you slowly turn around to face Yoongi.

He’s leaning against the entryway, a smug smile on his lips, but you know better. He’s putting on a cool facade for you, but his eyes betray him. Yoongi looks over his shoulder, making sure the coast is clear before stepping further into the kitchen.

“Nope.” you shrug, turning your attention to your drink. “Just busy.”

“Hmm.”

“Did you need something?” you ask, bringing your drink to your lips. Yoongi watches you intently before he takes the cup from your hands and sets it back on the counter.

“I need you,” he whispers before his lips are on yours. Immediately, your hands grip his shirt to pull him closer, a whimper escaping you when he’s got you pressed to the counter and his hands grip your waist.

“Yoongi,” his name slips from your lips, forgetting for a moment that things were rocky between you. Why couldn’t you just forget and let live?

“Kiss me,” he pleads in a low, needy tone that makes your head spin.

So you kiss him.

Again, and again, and once more for good measure.

Yoongi moans your name softly, making your body burn with desire as your fingers tug on his hair. He curses, his cock twitching in his pants as his hands squeeze your waist. What he wouldn’t do to kiss you from head to toe, spend every moment from now until morning devouring you while you call out his name.

“Fuck,” he curses, licking his lips as you pant, trying to catch your breath. Yoongi grins, thankful he’s had the same effect on you as you did on him.

There’s so much he’d like to say, so much he wishes he could tell you, but like always, he’ll have to wait as footsteps fill the hall.

Yoongi steps away, busying himself by getting a drink while you open the fridge to hide your face. It would easily give you away.

“There you are! I swear you’re hiding from me tonight,” your brother jokes as he leans against the fridge, completely ignoring Yoongi as he chugs his drink.

“Just needed a drink. You know how Aunt May gets at parties,” you lie but your brother laughs.

“Did she tell you the vacation story again?” he asks with a shake of his head.

“Yes, but she gave me a check, so I listened for once,” you giggle, showing him the check your aunt wrote for you.

“Nice,” your brother hugs you. “I think everyone’s wrapping up, if you wanna go say bye.”

“I should do that,” you agreed quickly, going around your brother to leave.

“We’ll have lunch tomorrow! I’m staying the night until my apartment is ready!” he calls. You throw a thumbs up over your head to acknowledge him before scurrying away from Yoongi’s heated gaze.

It’s almost an hour later before you’re back in your bedroom. You’ve taken a shower, put your pajama shorts on, and another oversized shirt you’ve stolen from the pile of Yoongi’s in your brother’s closet. You’ve managed to grow your collection while your brother’s been gone, and now nearly every shirt of Yoongi’s sits hidden in the last drawer of your dresser, just beneath your other pajamas.

When you get in bed, you’re not too surprised when there’s a light knock on your door. Nerves bubble up inside you as you get out of bed as quietly as possible.

You know your parents have gone with your Aunt May for the night. She always has too many glasses of wine and your parents like to make sure she’s okay, often staying the night and having brunch in the morning. The only one home and upstairs in bed is your brother, his loud snores fill the home.

Slowly, you turn the doorknob, opening the door to see Yoongi.

“Hey,” he greets you in a whisper. You grip him by the shirt, tugging him into your bedroom. He stumbles over his feet before you shut the door to press him against it.

Yoongi grunts when his back meets the wood, cock twitching immediately as your lips press against his. Yoongi is caught off guard but his hands cup your face and before you know it, it’s you that’s pressed against the door.

“Yoongi,” you moan his name just like he remembers, cock throbbing in the confines of his jeans. He kisses you deeper, drinking you in as his tongue brushes yours.

“Fuck, princess,” he groans as he kisses his way to your neck, teeth nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. His mark is left behind, soothed by his fiery tongue as he moves downward, hands gripping the shirt you’ve stolen from him. At this point, it’s all he ever wants to see you in.

With ease, Yoongi kisses you as he leads you to your bed. He drops when the back of his knees hits the mattress, taking you with him. You squeal in surprise, giggling when he kisses you to muffle your sounds.

“We need to be quiet,” he reminds you. You nod, licking your lips as you move to straddle him, lacing your fingers with his as you press his hands over his head, grinding down on him. Yoongi moans your name, eyes fluttering shut as he enjoys your hips moving together.

Fuck, he was supposed to be talking to you, not grinding on you.

“Baby,” he breathes, throwing his head back when you grind on him harder, biting back moans as you release his hands to grip your tits. Fuck, why was he stopping this?

“We need to talk,” he reminds you as you kiss his neck, teeth sinking into his skin and your tongue laving over it to soothe the sting. Fuck, his head is spinning. This is everything he’s been dreaming of and more.

“So talk,” you say as you grip his shirt, tugging it over his head. Yoongi is malleable beneath you, at your mercy as you have your way with him. He’s so lost in you, intoxicated by your scent, your lips, your hips.

Yoongi enjoys himself for a moment longer before he kisses your lips and gently pushes you off his lap. He cards a hand through his hair, a small smile on his lips. “Talk, princess.”

You bite your lip. “I’d rather kiss.”

Yoongi chuckles. “So would I.”

You grin, reaching for him again, and Yoongi allows you to steal one kiss before he scoots away.

“We need to talk, baby. I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings between us. Not again. It hurt too much to be away from you for so long, and now that I have you in front of me, I realize just how much I missed you. How much I wish I had chased after you or at the very least, said something.” Yoongi clears his throat, he notes the way you’ve stiffened.

“I wanted to talk to you, Yoongi. Every time I tried, I thought of my brother. I thought of you not reaching out. I thought it was better this way,” you shrug, hiding your face in your hands.

“Princess,” Yoongi pulls you to his side. “I didn’t know you wanted me to. You avoided me after, and I was scared I had overstepped. I haven’t gone a day without thinking of you, of wishing I could have you in my arms just like this.”

You melt, kissing his cheek. “So, where do we go from here?”

“I want to be with you, princess. I want to take you out. I want to spoil the fuck out of you. I want you to be mine,” Yoongi admits as he caresses your face. You feel like you’re falling for him all over again, your heart thumping wildly in your chest as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“I’d love nothing more,” you smile widely, kissing his face again and again until he’s chuckling. His hands grip your waist, allowing you to kiss him as much as you want. You eventually kiss his lips, drowning in him until your back meets your bed, and he’s hovering over you.

“Yoongi,” his name rolls off your tongue in a heady tone that drives him insane, his hips grinding down on yours as you spread your legs for him, welcoming him in between. He hisses, cursing as his hair falls over his eyes and he huffs a breath as you brush it away, tugging at the roots to make him moan.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he teases with a smirk.

“Who says I won’t finish it?” you goad him and he licks his lips.

“Fuck, you have no idea what you do to me, baby. I want you so bad.” he kisses you again, sucking on your bottom lip as your hands move down to his body, nails digging into his shoulders.

His name escapes you as his lips suck on the sensitive skin of your throat. Your fingers tug at his hair, making him groan against you. You want him desperately, hoping you’ll get all of him tonight, but you both freeze when your brother's snoring stops and his footsteps echo upstairs.

“Fuck, fuck,” Yoongi pulls away, a hand carding through his mused hair. He looks at you with wide eyes as he bites his lip.

This is not how you wanted your brother to find out.

You both stay still, not making a sound until you hear the footsteps again and minutes later when the toilet flushes. Moments later, the snores resume.

“Fuck,” Yoongi chuckles nervously. His hands tremble as he looks at you. He bites his lip nervously, his hands going into his pockets. “I should go to the couch.”

You don’t say a word as he grabs his shirt and tugs it back on. You watch him awkwardly from your bed, biting your lip. Yoongi walks over to you, gently pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Goodnight, princess.”

Morning comes sooner than you’d like. Your brother’s loud music and off-key singing greet you the moment your eyes open. At least someone’s in a good mood, you think.

Groaning, you huff as you rub your eyes. You’re tired, having slept very little, thinking about every word exchanged with Yoongi. After deciding not to overthink, your mind filled with every kiss, every touch you exchanged and that led to your hand between your legs, softly moaning his name. You hated that he was just on the other side of your bedroom door, unable (and unwilling?) to do anything about it with your brother upstairs. But what did you expect? He’d run out of here the last time the two of you had been together, just like this. You couldn’t keep getting your hopes up. Three years ago you decided your brother was more important, so you’d write last night off as a one-time thing, again.

“Wake up!” Your brother shouts as he knocks on your bedroom door. You curse at him, groaning as you get out of bed. You hit your palm on the door in answer, enough for your brother to leave you alone while you go to the bathroom to brush your teeth. You look at your reflection, cringing when you see a small hickey on your neck. Damn Yoongi.

You head to your closet to change your shirt before opening your bedroom door and heading to the kitchen.

Yoongi is at the stove with your brother, a spatula in his hand a second before he’s swatting your brother. “Don’t touch it!”

“It’s going to be burned!” your brother protests, but Yoongi swats his hand again and the two argue back and forth, only turning when you open the fridge door to grab the juice.

“Good morning,” Your brother grins. You grunt as Yoongi chuckles.

“Still not a morning person?” Yoongi laughs and you flip him off.

“Anyway,” your brother rolls his eyes. “I’m getting my apartment keys tomorrow so I can start moving in.”

“Congrats!” You exclaim as you take a seat on a stool.

“Everything I own is in storage and Steph ordered a couch on Tuesday. Our bed will be there tomorrow afternoon, so I just need to move in with my stuff.” Your brother explains.

“When do I get a tour?” You ask as you try your best to avoid looking at Yoongi. Your brother shrugs.

“You wouldn’t need a tour if you’d gone to Yoongi’s place that one time I invited you,” your brother laughs, turning to smack Yoongi on the shoulder.

“Yoongi’s place?” You choke out.

“Yeah?” Your brother quirks his head. “Did I not mention it was in his building?”

“No,” you swallow thickly, reaching for your glass of juice to gulp it down. By the stove, Yoongi is gripping the spatula harder than necessary, the egg for gyeran bap sizzling on the pan. Perhaps he should have said something?

“Yoongi got me in with the landlord,” your brother grins. “I can’t wait to move in with Steph. It’s nice to be home after traveling so much. It’s exhausting.”

“When are you proposing?” You smile mischievously as your brother whips his head. He rubs the back of his neck and Yoongi smirks behind him. Your brother had met Steph on one of his trips home, they’d been together for almost three years now.

Your brother pats his pocket and out comes a small black velvet box.

“Shut up!” You shout as you set your glass down on the counter with a thud. Yoongi chuckles as he turns the stove off and begins plating the food.

“I had Yoongi help me pick it out,” your brother admits as he opens the box, and a gorgeous ring sits nestled in the middle.

“Oh, she’s gonna flip!” You squeal as you jump up and down. Your brother laughs, shutting the box in case your excitement knocks the ring out of his hands.

“I’m gonna wait until we’re settled in our apartment before proposing,” your brother explains as he thanks Yoongi with a nod when he places the food in front of the two of you. “So don’t go opening that big mouth of yours, brat!”

Offended, you place your hand on your chest. “Me?!”

“You’re easy to read,” Yoongi says with a shrug as he takes a bite of his food. “Plus, you’re not as quiet as you think.”

You stare at him, mouth agape as he meets your gaze, fiery and knowing. Perhaps he had heard you last night…

“See, he knows what I’m talking about,” your brother is oblivious as he eats his food. “I wanna tell Mom and Dad first and of course plan it out perfectly and that’s going to take a while.”

“We’ll help with whatever you need!” You exclaim and Yoongi laughs.

“I’m being volunteered to help?”

“Yes!” You huff with a roll of your eyes. “Why wouldn’t you? You got plans?”

“Nope,” Yoongi chuckles before turning to your brother. “You know I’ll help with whatever you need. Just say the word.”

“Thanks, man,” your brother smiles brightly. “And of course, I’ll help with whatever you need when it’s your turn.”

You freeze, looking away from Yoongi to stare down at your plate. A short silence follows and Yoongi scrounges up a passing smile.

“Uh, thanks.”

Your brother nods, groaning when his phone rings on the counter. He answers it immediately and is soon rushing off when he’s informed his apartment key is ready today if he wants it early, but he’s got an hour to pick it up before the landlord leaves for the day.

“I’ll be back, maybe. Steph and I want to get some of her stuff in there today from her parents’ house so I might be back later. Mom and Dad are still with Aunt May so I’ll text you!”

Your brother waves and before you can blink, you hear his car peeling out of the driveway, music blasting loud enough to rattle the windows. You’re sure your neighbors will be glad when he’s gone.

Silence fills your home after your brother’s gone. You wash the dishes and head to your room to change, finding Yoongi has done the same.

Eyeing you hungrily, Yoongi takes in every bit of skin showing where your dress ends just above your knees. He smiles when he sees how flustered you’ve become, turning your head just to avoid his gaze but display the small mark he left last night.

Biting his lip, he keeps himself from saying something explicit, offering you a compliment before asking about your plans.

“I was going to head outside to clean up any mess left behind,” you shrug and Yoongi follows you toward your backyard.

Most of it is clean but a few cups and plastic cutlery litter the ground. You’re thankful nothing nasty has fallen into the pool and you debate inviting Tae and Jimin over for a swim.

“The party was fun last night,” Yoongi comments as he picks up a trash bag left sitting on a table.

“Yeah, Jimin almost convinced my mom to do body shots off him,” you roll your eyes in annoyance, glad you were able to swoop in and escort your mother away.

Yoongi’s laughter fills the air, his eyes closed as his head is thrown back. His hand rests on his stomach as it begins to ache.

“I would have paid money to see that,” he says once he’s controlled his laughter but it still lingers in his words.

“Yoon!” You whine, shoving him playfully. “That’s my mother.”

“She knows how to have a good time,” Yoongi smiles smugly and you huff.

“Gonna get her to do body shots off of you at the next party then,” you grumble.

Yoongi grins wolfishly and you shove him again. He cackles when you try a third time and miss his chest; his hand wraps around your wrist before he raises it to his lips to kiss your skin.

“I’m kidding,” Yoongi says with a gummy smile that makes your heart flip in your chest. You could melt just looking at him.

The late spring heat begins to get to you as you ignore him and finish cleaning up. He’s got a shit-eating grin the whole time, satisfied with himself for annoying you. It reminds him of the times you’d hang around him, always with a quip at the ready to shut him or your brother down. It’s good to know he can still get under your skin and take what he gives out just like he does with you.

“Here,” you growl as you shove a cold water bottle into his hands once you’re done cleaning up the backyard. He thanks you, taking the lid off and squeezing it harder than necessary to splash you and himself in the process.

“Min Yoongi!” You scream his name as you step back and start pulling at your sundress, thankful you’ve put on a bathing suit underneath it.

“Whoops, sorry,” Yoongi shrugs as he sips his water and you snatch it from him to spray him with it. His shirt clings to his body and you stare with lustful eyes as Yoongi simply takes it off.

“See something you like?” He asks cheekily as he steps closer to you but you’re left speechless and frozen in your spot. Your body is warm, from the heat or Yoongi—you’re unsure— as you do the first thing that comes to mind.

A splash is heard as you jump into the pool. Yoongi is left flabbergasted in his spot before he joins you with a cannonball right beside you.

“You’re insufferable,” You hiss as you wipe the water off your face. Yoongi swims closer to you until he’s but a hair's breadth away.

“And yet you still like me, princess.”

Laughter is the first thing your brother hears as he opens the front door. He’s in a hurry, having realized halfway to the landlord’s office that he’s forgotten his wallet.

Normally, he wouldn’t worry about it but he was told to bring his ID to pick up his keys. So he turned around and rushed home taking a few yellow lights that may have been turning red by the time he crossed the intersection.

He knows exactly where to find his wallet (on the coffee table), having tossed it there before helping Yoongi cook, assuring himself he wouldn’t forget it if he had to go out, but alas here he is.

The back door of his home is slightly ajar and he’s about to scold you when he hears you and Yoongi’s distinct laughter. He grabs his wallet off the coffee table and heads to the back door where he pauses.

You and Yoongi are laughing, splashing each other with water, and climbing out of the pool just to cannonball back in. Your brother smiles, shaking his head as he notes how the two of you steal glances at each other.

He may be overprotective but he wasn’t an idiot. He could see the way you looked at his best friend and it wasn’t until the past year that he noted the way Yoongi would look at you. Well, not you but pictures of you that your brother would show him whenever he was back in town.

“She’s going on vacation with Jimin and Tae,” he remembers telling Yoongi the last time as he sat on Yoongi’s old gray couch. “They’re going to some beach resort.”

Yoongi had nearly ripped the phone out of his hand to see the pictures. Your smile is bright and wide in every photo. It all made sense then, the brightness in Yoongi’s eyes but sadness still lingered in the dark depths. Perhaps it wasn’t his place to stand between you if it meant the two of you could be happy.

But nothing ever changed.

You still avoided Yoongi at every chance and as hard as your brother tried to get the ball rolling, it didn’t. You were busy. Always so busy, too busy for him and too busy for Yoongi.

Now stumbling into the both of you alone, he wonders if something was there, if it always was and he was just unaware.

He feels like he’s intruding now. He’s gotten what he came for and he shuts the door when you squeal Yoongi’s name once again after he’s splashed you. He smiles to himself as he takes his leave.

“You’re so annoying!” You yell when the water hits your face once again. This time you were swimming laps and Yoongi was ahead of you, kicking his feet harder than necessary just to splash more water in your face and causing you to lose.

Yoongi smirks when he reaches the end of the pool, waiting for you to arrive before he climbs out.

“Thought you were the captain of the swim team,” Yoongi shrugs, a teasing smile on his lips as you finally reach him.

You pull yourself out of the pool to sit beside him, glaring.

“I was the towel girl! And only because Jimin was on the team,” you grumble, shoving him to the side when his smile grows wider.

“Come on, Little Mermaid, let’s get you inside,” Yoongi rises to his feet, offering you his hand that you swat away. He rolls his eyes, picking up his shirt from the ground and your dress as you get up and join him.

Yoongi leads you inside the house, puddles forming on the floor where you walk.

“We’re making a mess,” you groan.

“We’ll clean it up,” he assures you.

“Come on, it’ll be easier if we contain it to one floor,” you take Yoongi’s hand and he stumbles after you as you lead him to your bedroom, locking the door and leading him to your bathroom.

Yoongi’s heart is racing. He bites his lip as he watches you turn the shower on. When you start to take off your swimsuit, he turns his back to you.

“I can wait my turn in the room. I’ll just need a towel to dry off with,” he says nervously.

“Get in, Yoongi,” you demand as you step into the shower, hot water enveloping your body and making you groan.

Yoongi hesitates for a moment before you speak again. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen already.”

Yoongi’s face flushes with heat. He slowly takes his board shorts off and steps in with you. Your eyes are closed as you stay under the water and a shiver runs down his spine.

Slowly, your eyes open and your hands reach for him. You smile softly when water soaks him, his hair sticking to his forehead as he smiles at you.

You’re still unsure of where you stand, still cycling through your feelings, and knowing this path could lead you to happiness but also despair once again. You’re not sure you could overcome this heartbreak again but with Yoongi standing in front of you in silence, lost in those same thoughts, you kiss him to silence them.

There’s no rush in your kiss, no urgency, nothing but soft lips and whimpered moans. Yoongi cups your face gently, delicately, almost afraid you’ll break if he lets go. Your hands rest on his shoulders, warm and wet underneath your palms as your lips part for him. A muffled moan leaves you, a groan soon after when your back meets the iciness of the wall behind you.

Yoongi’s palm hits the wall with a soft slap. His fingers grip your chin to tilt your head upward, exposing more of your neck as his lips trail wet kisses downward.

“I’ve missed you,” Yoongi admits quietly against your skin. You’re positive his words weren’t meant for you to hear but you hold him tighter.

“I wanted to reach out,” you say with a shaky breath. “But he was so glad there was nothing between us. Every time I tried, I thought of him and closed myself off. I figured it would be easier to forget you but it never was.”

“Baby,” Yoongi’s tone is soft, his gaze blurry as tears fill your eyes and his.

“I’m sorry,” you sniffle, shaking your head as he hugs you. You don’t want to let him go, not again. Your brother will have to understand, he’ll just have to, and if not…

“Don’t think about it right now, okay? We can talk to him together or I can do it alone. There’s no rush, princess. He’s not going anywhere,” Yoongi kisses the top of your head.

Gently, he wipes your tears before he’s washing your hair. His fingers massage your scalp, humming as he goes. He helps you wash your body, no touch leading to more and you shyly return the favor in between kisses and serene smiles.

Though you still feel apprehensive about moving forward, you trust that this time will be different. Maybe you’ve become an optimist or maybe you just want to fool yourself into thinking so. Whatever it may be, you hope you’re not left standing on your own in the end.

After your shower, you dry off in your bedroom. You’ve put one of Yoongi’s shirts on and he’s borrowed a pair of shorts you’d stolen from him.

“I want those back,” you tell him as you get in bed with him beside you.

“Aren’t you just a little thief,” he scoffs as he wraps around you to pull you close. Your head rests on his bare chest, your index finger tracing patterns on his skin.

“It’s all I had,” you murmur, ignoring the ache in your throat from unshed tears.

“I have more clothes at home for you to take,” he promises, rubbing your shoulder.

“I’ll take a bag with me, then,” you sneer. He pinches your thigh playfully.

“Hey!”

“Swiper, no swiping!”

“Aw. Man!” You laugh, poking Yoongi in the ribs. He winces, sticking his tongue out at you before you’re both startled by his phone vibrating on your nightstand.

Your brother’s name appears on the screen and you both freeze. Carefully, Yoongi untangles himself from you before answering the call, selecting speakerphone and placing his finger over his lips.

“Hello?”

“Hey, go home and grab an overnight bag. It’s my last night at home and I want to spend it with you and my sister.”

“I thought you and Steph were going to move her stuff in?” Yoongi asks.

“We got most of it but her parents want to take her to dinner. This is her first time moving out so it’s a big deal. Her siblings are a little upset, as well. She’s the first to move.”

“That’s gotta be rough,” Yoongi states. He knows your parents were used to your brother coming and going so there was no big to do or celebration for him.

“Yeah, but they’ll be able to visit often. We live a few blocks away from her parents home. Anyway, I’ll be another hour or so. I have to drop off Steph and then grab dinner for us. I’ll call when I’m close so you can help me bring the food in. I gotta go,” your brother doesn’t let Yoongi get another word in before he hangs up.

“Guess I’m staying the night,” Yoongi chuckles as you wrap your arms around him.

“Good. I like it when you’re here,” you kiss his cheek before getting out of bed and putting on a pair of shorts.

“Come on, let’s go to your place.”

“You just want to take more of my stuff,” Yoongi chuckles as he gets up and pops into your closet for a shirt.

“I’ll see when we get there.” You smile, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before taking his hand to lead him out of your bedroom and out of your home.

“Don’t expect much,” Yoongi tells you as he unlocks his front door. “I wasn’t expecting guests.”

“Lemme in!” You pout, nearly stomping your foot on his unwelcome mat. The cat flipping you off totally sets off the mood. Yoongi didn’t like visitors much less those unannounced, so this was an enormous deal for him.

“I’m going! I’m going!” He exclaims as you slide your hands under his shirt, wanting to feel his body once again and knowing you’d end up making out on his doorstep if he didn’t let you in soon.

With an exaggerated flair, Yoongi opens the door and allows you in. You nearly tackle him out of the way in your haste inside.

Yoongi’s apartment is so him. The living room is large with an old gray couch, black cushions fluffed up, and sitting on top. His coffee table is small but littered with magazines and books half read and forgotten.

On the wall opposite the couch sits a large TV mounted in line with the couch. The TV stand beneath it is simple, charcoal in color, and holds all of Yoongi’s consoles and a few board games.

In the corner, a black guitar sits on its stand and Yoongi gives you a minute to browse his game collection.

“I’m gonna pack a bag while you snoop,” he calls as he heads to his bedroom.

“I’m not snooping!” You shout in response but his laughter is the only answer you get.

However, you linger at his video games, several titles sounding familiar and you gasp when you see a binder tucked under one of the consoles. You open it, surprised to see old Pokémon cards followed by old Yu-Gi-Oh cards. You had your own set tucked in the back of your closet, collecting dust and holding precious memories of your past.

You set the binder back in its place before going down the hallway toward Yoongi’s bedroom.

The bedroom door is cracked and you push it open further. Yoongi looks up from his duffel bag sitting on the bed. His closet is open and he waves his hand toward it.

“Pick a few things you like,” he simply says as he walks to his dresser to get a pair of socks and some underwear. You smile when you go through every shirt once and then twice, picking up a few you like.

Yoongi chuckles when he sees your hands full. He takes them from you and folds them neatly to stuff on top of his other belongings.

“Guess I’ll have to go shopping soon,” he muses as he sets the bag on his nightstand and reaches for you.

“Come here.”

You do so, kissing his cheek to make him blush when he drops the two of you on his bed.

You scoot further, getting comfy and staring up at the ceiling. You wonder how wonderful it would be to wake up just like this, wrapped in Yoongi’s embrace every morning.

Yoongi scoots closer, his fingers lacing with yours.

“Tell me everything I missed,” Yoongi whispers as he brings your hand to his lips, planting a soft kiss on your hand.

“Where to begin?” You muse as you turn to face him. His gaze bores into yours and he looks so cute with his hair splayed out on his pillow and his soft pink lips turned upward in an encouraging smile.

You collect your thoughts, soon telling him about everything he missed. The struggles of university, the little fights with friends, your new favorite foods, and ones you couldn’t stand the sight of. You talked of vacations and concerts, jobs you were considering applying for, and those you wanted to avoid, and Yoongi listened intently. He took mental notes, thought of date ideas based on your interests, and laughed when you did.

“What about you?” You ask when you’re done.

“Hmm?”

You laugh. “What were you up to?”

“Oh, you know, the usual,” Yoongi shrugs noncommittally and you poke his chest. With a laugh, he takes your finger and brings it to his mouth, teeth nipping your fingertip.

“Hey!”

A smile tugs at his lips when he releases you. Sighing, he looks up at the ceiling for a moment. “Parties, work, made a few new friends. Not a lot, honestly.”

You climb on his lap, straddling his hips. Yoongi’s hands go to your waist, sliding under your shirt to feel the warmth of your skin.

“How many nights did you spend in bed thinking of me?” You ask boldly, heart racing in your chest.

“All of them,” he answers honestly as his hand moves to cup your face, bringing you to his lips.

A needy moan escapes you when his teeth tug on your bottom lip, his other hand moving down the curve of your back to grab a handful of your ass.

“Always thought of you. Of seeing you again. Of holding you again, kissing you. There’s not a moment I didn’t think of you. Never knew if I could ever have you,” Yoongi admits.

“Yoongi,” you say his name breathlessly, gripping his shirt to make sure he won’t disappear this time.

Yoongi swallows thickly as he looks up at you. He sighs heavily, pushing your hair out of your face.

“I’m sorry I didn’t try harder. I’m sorry I let you go so easily. I never want to make you feel like that again. That weekend meant something to me. I never want you to think that it didn’t.”

Softly, you caress his cheek. Your gaze is intense as you refuse to look away from him. His hands settle on your hips, more for him than for you, needing something to anchor him.

“After you left, in the morning he came to my room happy I’d gotten over my crush on you,” you explain, batting away the tears that form. “I don’t want to lose either of you.”

Yoongi takes your hands in his, fingers laced as he squeezes tight. “We’ll tell him about us this time. He’ll understand now.”

“You think so?” You bite your lip as you ponder what your brother’s reaction will be. You haven’t talked much since he got back in town, his impending move taking up most of his time and now his soon-to-be-fiancée.

“He will. It won’t be like last time. I swear,” Yoongi’s tone is firm, already decided.

“Okay,” you nod, curling into his side as he kisses the top of your head.

Yoongi holds you for a few more minutes before the two of you leave his home. He treasures the last few minutes with you before he has to keep his hands to himself for the rest of the night.

“Who else is coming?” You ask when Yoongi and your brother set the bags of takeout on the table.

“Just us?” Your brother responds, puzzled. “Why?”

You wave your hand at the bags and your brother shrugs. “I’m hungry. I'm a growing boy.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi huffs laughter. “Growing to be a pain in the butt.”

“I resent that! Now sit down and let’s eat!” Your brother grins as he hands out random bags to you and Yoongi to unpack while he grabs condiments out of the fridge and some cutlery from a drawer.

“I don’t want to hear you groaning later when you can’t find the Tums,” you roll your eyes at your brother but he laughs.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” he says as he points to a bag on the couch. It’s red and has a zipper, resembling a school supply bag but when you take a peek inside you cackle.

“Laugh now, brat, that’s your future,” your brother scoffs.

You look at the contents of the bag again and giggle. It’s stuffed to the brim with over-the-counter medication, most of them for your brother’s tummy troubles; Imodium, Tums, Pepto, and Gas-x.

“Yoon,” you call as you set the pouch back down on the couch after zipping it back up. “I recommend you sleep on the couch tonight.”

“Hey!” Your brother exclaims. “I’m not that bad.”

You and Yoongi share a look before you turn to your affronted brother. “You are that bad.”

Cursing, your brother ignores the two of you as he takes a bite of his taco, drowning it in lime juice and hot sauce.

He grumbles under his breath for most of the meal while you and Yoongi exchange glances.

Thirty minutes later, the three of you are piling onto the couch. You’ve got one end and Yoongi has the other. Your brother settles on the recliner as he watches the movie he picked out. His hand has been rubbing his stomach for a few moments and his bag of goodies (as he calls it) lays open at his side.

“I bet the little sister did it,” he says as he rocks in the recliner before fishing a Tums out of his bag.

“Dude,” Yoongi curses. “It just started.”

“It’s not like it’s a crime,” you shrug. You’ve already seen the movie before but your brother was intrigued and nothing else sounded like a good watch while in a food coma. Besides, you did enjoy the film anyway.

“If I fall asleep, let me know if I’m right,” he yawns as he rubs his stomach one more time.

It’s not long until he’s snoring in the chair, drowning out the movie, and leaving you and Yoongi to secretly hold hands under a couch cushion.

“He’s down for the count,” Yoongi whispers as he shuts and locks your door after getting your brother up to bed.

“Are you sure?” You ask, panicked.

Yoongi nods. “He took some melatonin and knocked out.”

You hush Yoongi, pressing your finger to his lips. You wait a moment, ignoring the heat of his lips on your skin. You’re startled when your brother’s snore rattles the home.

“Told ya,” Yoongi chuckles. You move your finger off his lips, but Yoongi wraps his hand around your wrist to plant a kiss on the sensitive skin. You watch him with a heated gaze, licking your lips when his eyes lock on yours.

It’s not long until the both of you are over each other, kissing urgently on your way to your bed. Yoongi climbs on you as your hands grip his shirt, nearly tearing it off his body in your haste.

Chuckling, Yoongi removes his shirt and tosses it on the floor. You lie beneath him, your hands roaming across his broad chest, pulling him close to kiss him again.

A growl escapes him. He ignores the throb of his cock when he realizes you’re wearing one of the shirts you stole from him.

“Baby,” he rasps. His low voice sounds grave as he curses, grabbing your thighs in his hands and tugging you toward him.

“Yoongi,” you gasp, immediately covering your mouth with your hand.

Both of you freeze, hearts thudding obscenely loudly as you wait for the tell-tale snore that comes a moment later.

Yoongi sighs in relief as he grips your panties and rips them down your thighs. He pockets them before you can protest. He bunches your shirt and has you bite down on it.

“Not a sound, baby. We can’t get caught,” he says as you nod, already drooling on the shirt.

Smirking, Yoongi palms his cock as he spreads your legs with his other hand.

“Touch yourself for me, baby. Show me how you pleasure yourself when you think of me,” he instructs as he sits on the edge of the bed.

You bite back a moan, shyly spreading your legs as he continues to palm his cock over his shorts. His chains shine in the light of your bedroom, and you wonder what they’d feel like dragging across your heated skin as he hovers above you, filling you full of his cock.

“Yoongi,” you breathe as your eyes meet his, and your hand moves from your breast down to the apex of your thighs. Yoongi follows the movement, cursing when your fingers land on your clit.

You’re slow with your movements, gently rubbing your clit in circles. Pleasure courses through you. You become aware of how wet you are when you move your hand lower.

Yoongi licks his lips as he watches you, nearly growling when you spread your fingers and your arousal coats them both generously.

Without blinking, Yoongi strips until he’s bare. His tongue peeks from between his lips as he wraps his hand around his length. He’s slow with his strokes, eyes hooded and focused on your wet cunt.

Cursing, Yoongi feels his heart flutter when his name tumbles from your lips. Your head lolls back as you arch, your fingers sliding in and out of you faster and faster. Your legs shake, gasps spilling from your lips as you look up to see Yoongi jerking off to you.

“Is this how you touched yourself while thinking of me?” He asks with a lustful look that sends tingles down your spine.

“Only thought of you,” you whisper. “Thought of your cock filling me up, making me cum, making me cream.”

“Fuck,” Yoongi groans deeply as he moves forward, his hand grabbing the nape of your neck as he pulls you into a kiss that makes your whole body tingle with pleasure.

Soon, his fingers replace yours. His thumb rubs your clit as his lips smother your moans. Your hands wrap around his dick, moaning as you stroke him with your wet fingers.

“Fuck, baby. Just like that,” he encourages as he rocks his hips.

His lips mark your neck in tiny constellations that you’ll smile about later on when he takes a photo of his hand wrapped around your throat and your hickeys peeking through.

“Focus on me, love.” Yoongi pouts as his thumb adds more pressure to your clit, and you whimper. Your eyes are wide, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as your legs tremble.

A smirk appears on Yoongi’s face. “That’s it, baby. Tell me who’s making you feel this good.”

“You,” you answer in a gasp. “Yoongi!”

Yoongi kisses you, silencing you as you cum on his delicious fingers. You moan as his tongue meets yours, your fingers threaded in his hair as you soak the sheets beneath you.

Slowly, Yoongi removes his fingers, chuckling when you groan.

“Fuck, I can’t wait for you to fuck me.” You giggle, catching him off guard.

He puckers his lips in surprise, cheeks pink as he brings his fingers to his lips to suck clean.

“Think you can handle it, princess?” Yoongi goads.

You nod. “I’ve thought about it a lot.”

Yoongi curses, carding his fingers through his hair as he ignores the twitch of his cock. You notice, grinning as you wrap your hand around him once more. You move until Yoongi settles between your legs, his cock head pressed to your clit as you grind against him.

“Shit, babe. If you keep doing that, I might just cum,” Yoongi admits ruefully.

You smile devilishly as you continue, moving forward to kiss Yoongi, biting his bottom lip and tugging at it just to make him growl.

He’s at your mercy, moaning softly as you move faster. Fuck, you’re soaking his cock, drenching every inch, and the head keeps rubbing on your clit. He’d love nothing more than to have you wrapped around him, screaming his name for the whole block to hear, but he can’t. Not yet at least.

For now, he’ll have to settle for this. Though you don’t make it easy on him as you moan his name and sink your teeth into his shoulder to muffle another scream of his name as your thighs quiver and you cum with his head between your lips. Yoongi chuckles, licking his lips as he wraps his hand over yours on his dick. His pace is faster as he looks at your wet cunt, biting back an earth-shattering moan of your name as he cums all over your pussy and clit.

The warmth spreads along your skin as you fall back onto the pillows with a goofy grin. Yoongi smiles, kissing your lips quickly before he kisses down your body.

He paused at your tit, taking the hard nipple into his mouth, teeth gently tugging it before releasing it and moving to the other. Your hand grips his hair, cursing when the drag of his chains leaves goosebumps in their wake as he kisses further down your body until he’s grabbing your thighs in each of his gorgeous hands.

With ease, Yoongi places your legs over his broad shoulders as he settles between your thighs. His mouth waters at the sight of your pussy, arousal, and his cum mixed on your mound.

Teasingly, he licks your clit first. Slowly circling it just to watch you twitch as your hand covers your mouth to keep quiet. Yoongi smirks to himself as he repeats the action, muffling his moan in your inner thigh as he gets the first taste of your mixed pleasure.

Nothing could ever taste as wonderful.

Yoongi’s a menace with his tongue, more so than you could have ever imagined. Your fantasies are nothing but weak interpretations of reality. His tongue licks every bit of you, cleaning up your cum and his as if his life depends on it.

It doesn’t take him long to get you to cum one more time.

“Come on, princess,” he encourages with a sweet coo. “Just one more for me, darling. You can do it, right?”

“Yes,” you breathe as your eyes flutter shut, your lashes kissing your cheeks.

“Mm,” Yoongi hums. “Maybe next time it’ll be my cock instead of my tongue and fingers.”

You whine, begging him to fuck you as his fingers curl inside you, slowly pumping in and out as his lips wrap around your clit.

“Please,” you beg. “I want your cock. Need it.”

Yoongi laughs, smiling as he swirls his tongue around your clit one more time.

“So needy. I can’t wait to fuck you, baby. Spread you open and have you wrapped around me. Stuff you full of my cock until you can’t help but scream my name,” Yoongi states as you lose yourself in your orgasm, muffling your moans with your hand.

Yoongi curses, licking his lips as he eats you out through your pleasure. He only slows when you tug his hair twice.

A soft kiss is pressed to your temple as he lies beside you. You’re worn out, and a little sleepy. You don’t want him to leave, but you know your brother would punch him or worse if he found Yoongi in your bedroom or even suspected it.

You’re honestly surprised you can still hear him snoring upstairs. Unaware of all that’s taken place just a floor below.

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” you whisper as you feel him pull the covers over the two of you.

“I know, baby.” Yoongi sighs. “I’ll stay as long as I can. It won’t always be like this.”

“Promise?” You ask softly.

“I promise,” he assures you with a kiss to your lips.

Yoongi holds you until he’s sure you’re asleep. He wonders what it would be like to stay in bed with you all night. To wake up to your beautiful smile each day.

The ache that follows keeps him awake until he’s sneaking out of your bedroom door, fully clothed.

When he’s on the couch in the living room, his thoughts cloud his mind preventing him from sleeping.

He should just tell your brother. After all, you were all adults and he knew he wanted to pursue this. He hadn’t been with anyone since you and he didn’t want to be with anyone else. Of that he was sure.

What if he lost you and his best friend, though? Would he be able to move on?

Yoongi sighs heavily as he closes his eyes and throws his arms over them. It looks like another sleepless night for him.

What a shock.

The next morning is busy.

Your parents are back home for breakfast. Your mother and father make food for everyone before heading to your brother’s apartment to clean it despite your brother’s protests.

“It’s clean to the landlord’s standards, not mine,” your mother states as she heads out the door with her cleaning supplies and your father behind her.

Yoongi chuckles as he leans against the counter. “She did the same thing to my place with my mom.”

“I don’t know why I tried talking her out of it. Oh, well.” Your brother shakes his head as he gets a phone call from the movers.

Yoongi, your father, and your brother have spent most of the morning moving your brother’s boxes to the garage. Anything he deemed fragile was piled up in his car.

Since your brother mostly lived abroad, and he was getting new furniture with Steph, he wasn’t taking too much with him. Your job was to unpack with Steph, and Yoongi’s was to help your brother unload his car and make sure your mother didn’t go overboard in her cleaning.

Your brother should be moved in by the end of the night, which meant there was no real reason for Yoongi to hang out at your place without an excuse. Yoongi had texted you assurances very early in the morning and it’s not like your brother wouldn’t laze around at your parents’ place like before, just less so.

However, that meant his place would be off-limits as well if your brother showed up unexpectedly. It didn’t matter, Yoongi would figure it out.

He promised.

Hours later, you’re finishing up at your brother’s place. Most of his items are unpacked with his help and Steph’s. Your mom has finished cleaning to her satisfaction and headed out with your father.

Your brother bought you all lunch, and now that you were done, there was nothing else to do but leave.

“I’ll take her home,” Yoongi offers. “I have some errands to run anyway.”

“You sure?” your brother asks as he throws the trash into the trashcan.

“Yeah, gotta get a few things at the store,” Yoongi shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. You pull your phone out, asking Jimin to cover for you for a few hours in case your parents or brother ask.

[Jimin-bee]: whatcha gonna do?

[you]: talk

[Jimin-bee]: TALK ha! Let me know when you’re done and use condoms

You don’t reply.

“That’s fine,” you fake a yawn. “I’m tired anyway. You enjoy your first night here.”

Your brother nods, smiling as he pulls you into a hug. “Come over whenever.”

“Sure,” you nod.

“But call first,” your brother laughs before he walks you to the door with Yoongi. You wave at Steph as you leave with Yoongi in tow. The both of you walk down the hall toward the stairs, waiting for the door to shut before Yoongi pulls you into the stairwell.

“Fuck,” you moan when your back meets the wall. Yoongi captures your lips with his. Yoongi’s hand rests on the wall right beside your head as he kisses you deeply. Your hands immediately grab fistfuls of his shirt as you kiss him back, moaning when his hips press against yours.

“You’re already hard,” you giggle as he kisses down your jaw to your neck.

“I like kissing you,” he murmurs against your skin.

“Yoongi,” you moan as he sucks on your neck, his hand going to your hip to pull you toward him. You melt under his touch, only remembering where you are when the door slams from the next floor and footsteps echo as they grow closer.

The both of you pull apart, adjusting your hair as you take Yoongi’s hand in yours and head up the stairs. His place was on the third floor, far, far away from your brother on the first floor.

You don’t make eye contact with the man who passes by you on the stairs. Yoongi smiles to himself, hiding it with his hair before he goes stoic and looks up.

“Good evening,” he says simply as you continue heading up the stairs.

“Evening,” the man responds as he takes the stairs down.

It only takes a few more minutes before you’re in Yoongi’s apartment, pressed to the door as you kick your shoes off.

Yoongi grins as he takes his shirt off while you tug your top off. You’ve wanted him since you saw him this morning. It was hard to watch him lifting heavy boxes with his veins looking so prominent. The way he shook his long hair out of his eyes or when his hands pushed it back. Memories of last night hit you hard when you looked at his hands, remembering what his fingers felt like inside you.

Every time he laughed, your heart fluttered, wishing more than anything you could reach for him and hold him. Just touch him without your brother or parents having a problem with you two. You doubt your parents would have anything negative to say if you and him started dating but your brother’s discontent and possible fury kept you from exposing the relationship at the moment. It wouldn’t be like this forever, though. You had hoped your brother could understand, he was older now, more mature, right?

“What are you thinking, baby?” Yoongi asks softly as he cups your face. His thumb strokes your cheek as he locks eyes with you. You lean into his touch.

“Just want everyone to know about us,” you admit in a whisper, apprehensive of his answer.

“I want that too,” you perk up at his response, eyes shining with hope.

“You do?”

“Of course, baby. It won’t always be like this. Soon, we’ll let them all know that you’re my girl. Just a little longer,” he assures you as you lean in to kiss him, fingers laced in his long locks as he leads you to his bedroom after locking his front door.

The next morning, you stir before you wake. Sleep clings to your eyes as you rub them, groaning when an alarm goes off.

“Ugh,” you grunt as you sit up, finally opening your eyes as Yoongi shuts the alarm off.

“Sorry, babe. I have to work today,” he says as he kisses your cheek before getting out of bed. You grumble as you fall back onto the pillows. The shirt you took from Yoongi bunched at your hips, thighs smeared with your arousal from last night as he ate you out again and made you cum around his fingers twice.

“Don’t go,” you grumble as you roll over to face him. He chuckles as he looks over at you.

“I have to, baby. I asked for yesterday off because I knew your brother would want to hang out after graduation. Time to go make money.” Yoongi grabs his things and heads for the shower. “Wanna join?”

You kick the covers off you as you follow him into the bathroom, giggling when he opens the bathroom cabinet to show you toothbrushes, toothpaste, mouthwash, skincare, and lotions, all in bulk.

“I like to shop at the bulk stores,” he says shyly. “Easier to keep everything stocked when you work from home.”

“Cutie,” you smile, kissing his cheek before turning the shower on and stepping in. Yoongi follows you, kissing you when you’re both under the shower spray. You know this could easily turn to more if your hands wander too low and Yoongi has to clock in.

You take your time, feeling each other and sharing kisses until Yoongi gets out to grab your towel and wrap you in it before he wraps one around his waist.

The two of you do your morning routines, and you smile to yourself when your toothbrush sits beside his own.

Soon, you’re both dressed. Yoongi makes a pot of coffee, making it just the way you like it when a knock comes on the door.

Your eyes widen as Yoongi heads to the door, to look through the peephole.

“It’s your brother. Fuck,” he hisses.

You get out of your seat, run to the bedroom, and hide in the closet.

Yoongi looks over his shoulder to make sure you’re out of sight before he opens the door to let your brother in. He’s thankful he only had enough time to make your coffee before he came knocking. He’s not sure how he would have explained two mugs.

“Hey,” Yoongi greets him, as your brother lets himself in. “What’s up?”

“I texted you but you didn’t answer,” your brother explains as Yoongi shuts the door.

“Sorry, I was in the shower. Just got out. I work soon,” Yoongi shrugs as he refrains from looking at the bedroom. He’s sure he’s thrown all the clothing in the hamper. He was gonna toss your clothing and his from yesterday into his washer while he worked, so you’d have something clean to go home in.

By the time he took you home, your parents should still be working, so nobody would know if you had spent the night elsewhere.

At the moment, you were dressed in one of his shirts and sweatpants. You were going to lounge around his home until his workday ended and you had to go home for the night.

“Do you want to go get breakfast?” your brother asks Yoongi as he looks around the apartment.

“Sorry, I can’t,” Yoongi says. “I’ve got to clock in a little earlier today.”

“Boo,” your brother laughs.

You wish him away, wanting to leave the closet as soon as possible. Your heart is racing in your chest, and you almost wonder if they can hear it out in the living room.

“Oh, well,” your brother shrugs. “Maybe next time?”

“Yeah, sure,” Yoongi agrees as your brother walks toward the front door. He almost smiles in relief when they get to the door but your brother stops and turns on his heel at the last second.

Yoongi is confused as your brother heads for his bedroom.

“Dude!” Yoongi calls after him, palms sweating as he follows him as fast as he can, trying to keep from looking suspicious.

“My mom said our letterman jackets were in your closet. I’ll just check real quick,” Your brother explains as he beelines it for the closet. “Steph doesn’t believe I was on varsity.”

“I’ll check,” Yoongi says as he scans the room but doesn’t see you. He knows you ran into it and not the half bath in the hallway.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to barge in. I just remembered. I figured since I was already here,” Your brother looks sheepish, and apologetic as he opens the closet doors anyway and Yoongi can feel sweat beading on his brow.

Fuck.

You were fucked.

Your brother pushes a few jackets out of the way in his search, stepping in a little further as you pull your feet toward you and cover your mouth and nose to silence your breathing as much as possible.

Your brother steps on your toe, and you bite back a scream as he moves his foot and moves more clothing out of the way.

“Damn, how many clothes do you need? You have three of these shirts in three colors,” your brother laughs as he pushes them out of the way and turns to look at Yoongi.

Yoongi shrugs.

There’s no way he won’t find you, and all he can do is take a step back to give you room to crawl out when you’re discovered.

“Ah, I see it,” your brother grins as he pushes some more thick coats out of the way and grabs his jacket. In his haste, he drops the hanger onto the floor.

When he bends down to pick it up, he makes eye contact with you. Your hand is still over your mouth, eyes wide as you look at him.

Your brother says your full name as he steps back and you crawl out of the closet before getting to your feet.

You wave weakly. “Hi.”

“What the fuck are you doing here? Why aren’t you home? Why are you wearing his clothes?” Your brother’s mind is whirling. The last thing he expected was to see you here!

“Um, you see,” you bite your lip, unsure of what to say.

“She spent the night,” Yoongi states.

Your brother whirls around to look at Yoongi, brows furrowed.

“Why?”

“Because he’s my boyfriend now,” you say sheepishly, avoiding eye contact.

“I need to sit,” your brother pulls Yoongi’s desk chair toward him and sits. His jacket falls to his feet as he inhales and exhales a few times.

“Mind telling me what’s going on with my little sister, dude?” Your brother asks his best friend. He figured you two liked each other, but what was this spending the night shit? So soon? Without even telling him first? The fuck?

“We just started dating Sunday,” Yoongi explains as he sits on the edge of his bed, now that he’s twenty percent sure your brother wasn’t gonna punch him in the face. You go sit beside Yoongi, lacing your fingers together. Your brother doesn’t miss the gesture.

“And you didn’t think to tell me first?” your brother can’t help but sound hurt. He thought the three of you were better than to keep secrets.

“We wanted to, but look at how you’re reacting,” you sigh, squeezing Yoongi’s hand. You can barely focus with your heart thundering in your ears. Your hands grow clammy in Yoongi’s hold but he says nothing as your brother shakes his head.

Here it comes.

“I’m upset!” Your brother exclaims. “You kept this from me!”

“Because you told me last time that you were glad I didn’t like Yoongi anymore! I couldn’t lose you, so I didn’t see Yoongi again until you invited him to my graduation.”

Your brother places his palms over his face, his elbows resting on his knees as he exhales. He had said that. However, that was three years ago before he knew much about love. He always wondered why you never came around when Yoongi was there, but now everything was falling into place.

If he was honest with himself, he wasn’t upset over you guys. He knew it was inevitable after your years of crushing on Yoongi, and Yoongi didn’t help himself in recent years. Maybe he would have peeped it earlier if he had noted the way Yoongi looked at photos of you. There was always something more in his gaze.

“You still should have told me,” your brother looks up, making eye contact with Yoongi and then you. “Either of you.”

“We’re sorry,” Yoongi apologizes. “We should have but we’re still taking this slow. We don’t want to make any mistakes. I can’t lose her for another three years again. The last time hurt too much,” Yoongi looks at you before looking at your brother. “It hurt us both.”

“The last time?” your brother is puzzled. He rises from his chair with his jacket in his hands. “What last time? You mean this has happened before?”

“Um, we kissed at my last graduation,” you smile wryly. “Surprise?”

Your brother runs his hand over his face. Man, all he wanted was breakfast and now he had all this information he hadn’t asked for.

“You know what, don’t tell me anymore. You guys have my blessing or whatever, not that you need it. This is fine, just be careful. Don’t hide shit from me anymore,” Your brother shakes his head as he heads for the door.

You grin, hugging Yoongi before you walk your brother to the front door.

You throw your arms around your brother and hug him tightly. “I love you.”

“I love you too, brat. No more secrets,” he reminds you as he releases you and shakes his head one last time. He steps out of the apartment and pauses, “You both owe me breakfast.”

“Will do,” Yoongi grins as he drapes his arm over your shoulder to pull you close. Your brother smiles, seeing the two of you together wasn’t as weird as he thought it would be.

It was your happiness that mattered most of all, right?

Three weeks later, you’re back in Yoongi’s apartment after a night out on the town. You had a wonderful dinner, followed by a romantic walk by the river.

You were eager to get back to his place, kissing him at every chance you got. He had his hand on your thigh the whole drive home, smirking when he’d catch you tracing the veins and his rings.

His hair was slicked back, his chains resting on his chest and his suit fit him perfectly. He had a certain confidence that had you wanting to lick him up and down in public. Yoongi wasn’t able to keep his eyes (or hands) off you in the black dress you wore. Your back was exposed with a low dip that ended right above your lower back. He loved feeling your skin beneath his palm as you walked until you were leading him to the car.

“Take me home,” you had whispered in his ear, biting the lobe before settling in the front seat. That alone was enough to get him to half-mast.

The past few weeks, you’ve taken it slow. You were kissing and making out almost every day. Sometimes he’d fuck you with his fingers or his tongue, and sometimes you’d suck him off but you never went all the way.

You wanted to, tonight.

Yoongi’s hands grip your hips as your back meets the front door of his apartment. You giggle as his lips trail kisses down your jaw to your neck as your hands palm his chest on their trek to his pants pockets to fish out his keys.

“Fuck,” he curses, his breath fanning across your neck as you cup his erection.

“Oops,” you giggle as you squeeze him one more time before taking the keys out of his pocket. You hand them to him as he tries his best to get the key in the lock, but misses twice as he refuses to stop marking your neck.

“The faster you get me inside, the faster you can feel me wrapped around your cock,” you whisper as his teeth nip your skin.

“Fuck, okay. Yeah,” Yoongi breathes as he cards a hand through his hair. His thoughts are running rampant as he gets the key in the lock and turns it. He pushes the door open, grabbing your hand as he pulls you in.

You smile, kissing him as he shuts the door and presses you against it. One of his hands cups your face, and the other locks the door as he deepens the kiss.

You kick your shoes off, grunting as you trip over them. Yoongi chuckles, easily stepping out of his shoes.

A shirt here, pants there, your dress in a pool of fabric outside Yoongi’s bedroom door, and soon you’re in nothing but panties on his bed as he climbs on top of you between your legs.

Yoongi cups your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin. His dark eyes meet yours as he presses his lips to yours.

Warmth pools in your belly as your thighs wrap around his hips to pull him closer. Yoongi moans softly as his cock presses to your panty-clad cunt. He breathes your name, trailing kisses to your neck as your fingers thread in his inky locks.

“Yoongi,” his name rolls off your tongue in a tone so sweet, he can almost taste it when you moan again.

“That’s it, love. Let me hear those moans, don’t be shy,” He encourages as he moves downward and your hands move to his shoulders for a moment before he’s kissing one breast and groping the other.

Yoongi takes his time with you, kissing and caressing every inch of your body. His lips mark your skin, his teeth nibble gently just to listen to you sigh. Your hands grip the sheets, tugging on them as he teases you.

“Yoongi,” you breathe, nearly melting into a puddle when his tongue swirls around your nipple, sucking it just to make you gasp as his large hand grips your thigh.

“Yes?” he asks with a lopsided grin. “What is it, baby?”

“Please, stop teasing me,” you plead, biting your bottom lip as his lips kiss down your body until he’s settled between your thighs.

Yoongi smirks, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your mound. “Who’s teasing?”

“Yoongi!”

Chuckling, Yoongi kisses your thigh as his fingertip circles your clit once.

“Yoongi!”

He laughs, his gummy smile making you giggle. “I’ll stop teasing.”

“You promise?” you ask with a raised brow, but Yoongi doesn’t answer. Instead, he dips between your parted legs, his tongue licking your wet folds as your eyes flutter shut and you curse at the ceiling.

Yoongi doesn’t waste a second as he grabs handfuls of your thighs and pulls you closer. You squeal in surprise and laugh when he kisses your inner thigh.

“Cutie,” he murmurs before he’s trailing kisses to the apex of your thighs. He’s slow and teasing with his tongue, listening closely to every gasp and moan that escapes your pretty lips.

It’s not too long before your hand is gripping his thick hair, begging for more as he pushes two of his fingers inside you, curling them until you’re nearly screaming his name.

“So fucking wet for me, princess,” Yoongi curses, licking his lips before going back to the task at hand. You curse, back arching and thighs trembling as blissful pleasure courses through your veins.

“Yoongi! Baby!” You exclaim, thighs shaking as your breath grows ragged and your eyes squeeze shut.

“Fuck,” Yoongi licks his lips as he watches you fall apart, pussy clenching around his fingers as his thumb rubs your clit and you cry out one last time before lying boneless on the bed.

“Come here,” you demand when you catch your breath.

Grinning, Yoongi kisses your clit one last time before moving beside you.

You kiss him immediately, your hands cupping his face as he pulls you on top of him. Your legs go on either side of his hips as your wet cunt sits on his cock.

“We should,” Yoongi kisses you. “Get a condom.”

You nod, kissing him again, your tongue meeting his as he reaches blindly on his nightstand. He chuckles, moving you off him for a moment to open the drawer, take a handful of condoms out, and set them on the nightstand within reach.

“How many do you think we’ll need?” You ask with wide eyes.

Yoongi throws his head back and laughs, kissing your cheek when he calms down.

“Hopefully all of them,” he smiles cheekily. “But let’s start with one for tonight.”

“Yes,” you agree as you kiss him again as Yoongi rips open the packet, tossing the wrapper on the nightstand.

With ease, Yoongi is ready in seconds as he lies you down on the bed. He kisses you gently, his thumb stroking your cheek as he pulls away.

His dark eyes lock on yours, and your heart flutters.

“We can stop whenever you want to, princess. Just say the word, okay?”

“Yes,” you nod, kissing him deeply as he lines himself up at your entrance.

You gasp when he pushes in, nails digging into his forearms as his face gets buried in your neck.

“Fuck,” he curses as he gives you a moment to adjust. He kisses your neck, shoulders,, and cheek until you give him the go ahead to go further.

Before too long, pleasure courses through you as you moan Yoongi’s name.

“Fuck, love,” Yoongi nearly loses himself. You’re so warm and wet, tightening around him as he fucks into you again and again. He’s overcome with emotion as his eyes lock with yours. He never thought he’d get a second chance with you, not after he left so abruptly and there was no contact between you. He knows it’s probably too early in the relationship to say I love you, but he feels it in every fiber of his being.

With every kiss, with every touch, with every sigh, he falls deeper and deeper in love and there’s nothing he would ever do to stop it.

You breathe his name, kissing him as he goes deeper and you fall, fall, fall into pleasure.

This is better than you could have ever imagined. Better than all your daydreams and anything your imagination had conjured throughout the years. Love blooms in your chest as you grip his shoulder tights, your hands sliding down until your fingers lace with his. Pleasure courses through your veins, nearly consuming you.

“So big and thick,” you whisper, making Yoongi chuckle as he sucks on your neck.

“I said that aloud didn’t I?” You feel the heat rise to your cheeks from embarrassment.

“You did,” Yoongi giggles as he kisses you again, his hips rocking into yours as your legs cling to his hips to pull him closer.

“This is perfect,” you whisper as your body tingles and Yoongi’s fingers rub your clit. You shake, moaning as you meet each of Yoongi’s thrusts with your hips.

“Yoongi!”

“That’s it, baby. Cum for me,” Yoongi instructs, kissing you as you tighten around him and lose yourself to the pleasure.

Yoongi follows soon after, moaning your name in between pants before he pulls out of you. He discards the used condom quickly before lying at your side.

“You okay?” He asks gently as he pulls you into his arms. You smile brightly, nodding.

“Perfect,” you respond as you kiss his bare chest. “Can we do it again?”

Yoongi chuckles, shaking his head incredulously.

“As much as you’d like, princess.”

#yoongi smut #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi x reader insert #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi x y/n #yoongi angst #yoongi angst and smut #yoongi angst with a happy ending #boyfriend!yoongi #brother's best friend au #fic: tlc #fic: tongue like cany

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secretsofafangirll · 4 months

Text

you're still my favorite girl

pairing: chris sturniolo x fem!oc

summary: in which chris and isabelle are childhood best friends, who have always had underlying romantic feelings for one another. when chris starts hanging around other girls, isabelle can't help but question their relationship.

tw: talk of insecurity, kind of soft!dom chris, sexual situations but no real smut. mention of fem!oc being "tiny". use of "ma'".

"Come on, Belle," Chris shoots his hand out for her wrist and pulls himself from the couch as she walks away, "You'll have fun, I promise. Madi's gonna be there, Matt and Nick are going. If you're not gonna go for yourself, at least go for them." He pleads staring down at her, fiddling with her fingers.

"No, Chris. I'm sorry, but I'm not going. The last time I went to a party, someone threw up on me and one of Madi's old friends called me ugly, so," She raises her brows at the boy, "I will be staying in the comfort of my bed for the night with Sam and Colby on my screen."

She starts to walk away but Chris reaches out for her again, this time wrapping an arm around her waist hand colliding with her stomach and pulling her back, "Chris!" She giggles as she stumbles, her back coming in contact with his chest.

"Just stay here, B. I'll want to be with you when I get home. Just curl up in my bed and steal my clothes like you always do, hm?" He tickles her ribs and flexes his bicep around her frame.

"Fine," She huffs, throwing her head back against his chest, "but I'm wearing that unicorn, rainbow bullshit hoodie." Putting a finger in the air, she pulls away from his body, and heads for his bedroom.

"Okay, then I'm gonna head over. Be safe. I'll lock the door behind me and don't answer unless it's me, Nick or Matt. Behave." He points and narrows his eyes at me.

"Yes, sir." She jokes, putting her hands behind her back and bowing at the man. His eyes glaze over momentarily and his cool guy act falters for a moment.

"Love you, Belle."

"I love you, Chris." She calls and makes way to his bedroom.

༺♰༻

It's been three and a half hours since Chris left and Isabelle has heard nothing but silence. Not one text or call. She called and texted him several times to ask when he's planning on getting home, as she's getting tired, but he hasn't responded to a single one.

She worries that something bad has happened to him but she knows that Nick and Matt would've called if anything went wrong. While Sam and Colby play quietly in the background of her thoughts, she chomps on her acrylic nails and stares off into space.

Anxious thoughts fill her mind and tiredness threatens to take over. What if he's hurt? What if something happened to Nick and Matt and Chris doesn't have time to tell me? What if Nick and Matt have no idea something is wrong with Chris and he's just suffering all alone with no one aware?

She knows this is the worst thing for her to be doing right now, so to distract herself, she hops out of his bed and saunters into the kitchen to get a glass of water. As she softly pads toward his bedroom door, she hears her phone vibrate against his nightstand. Immediately relief floods her chest and she turns on her heels to run back. She lunges for her phone and is only met with disappointment when she sees that it was just a stupid Instagram notification. But her heart drops when she sees it was Chris who caused the notification in the first place. So he has time to post on Instagram, but not to text his best friend back? Makes total sense!

She reluctantly clicks on the notification to open a story he posted. It's him with one of his other good friends in the influencer space, Paige. He has an arm draped over her shoulders while she curls into his side and blows a fake kiss at his smirking, smug face. The text on the photo reading, My day 1 #1 @paige.

An unfamiliar feeling washes over her. His day one number one? She thinks. What about me? I've known you since kindergarten.

She doesn't know how to describe this feeling. It was like her favorite toy being pried from her hands as a child. Or the spot on the best team in the world being given to someone else. Being given to someone better. Was it jealousy?

No way. She thinks. He's my best friend, I'm not jealous of someone who he's possibly romantically interested in. But when she taps on her profile and sees she also posted a story, she knows exactly what to expect. And boy is she jealous when she sees it.

Paige's post is a different picture. It's a picture of them, back to back. both with sunglasses pointing finger guns at the camera. Nothing's funny about the picture, but Isabelle can't help but laugh. Not at the way they look or the stupid sunglasses, but because Isabelle posted that exact picture of her and Chris not that long ago. She taps through a highlight dedicated to her best friends and two months ago, that exact pose pops up.

Rage courses through her veins. Jealousy and rage flow all throughout her body. You wanna steal my man and my posts? She thinks. And Chris wants to blatantly ignore my attempts to contact him but then be active on social media anyway? Go right ahead.

At this point, she doesn't want to call him or text him. She doesn't even really want to see him at all. Hell, she has half the mind to drive back to her own house and let him find his house empty. But she knows that isn't the right thing to do. So she stays put and tries her best to fall asleep in her best friend's bed.

༺♰༻

Isabella had fallen asleep. Comfortable and warm in Chris hoodie and in his bed. He slowly crept in the front door with Matt and Nick two hours later, careful not to wake the sleeping girl. He signaled with his hand for the two to keep it down as he walked in. Though suddenly, Nick dropped his phone and the smack echoed through the entire house.

Chris' head whips around to Nick with wide eyes "Dude," he whisper shouts, "Shut the fuck up."

Matt and Nick make it to their respective bedroom quickly and quietly, eager to go to sleep after such a long night. Chris, on the other hand, is eager to see his sweet best friend. He ever so carefully pushes down the door handle and cracks the door to see Isabelle sleeping so peacefully on his bed, drowning in his large hoodie she swore she would wear. Her soft breaths making her hair move with every exhale, her small hand resting on the pillow beside her head. He takes a moment to take in her beauty. He can't help it. Chris has always thought she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen. With her long dark hair and piercing green eyes, he could never deny beauty like that, even if she's his best friend.

He tips toes to his closet and closes the door behind him to change. He peels off his shoes pants and shirts, stripping to his boxers. He doesn't have it in him to shower tonight. After forcing himself to socialize with people he didn't even really like that much, all he wants to do is cuddle with the one person he can never get tired of being around. He quietly exits his closet, grateful that his girl is still asleep. He creeps over to his side of the bed and slides in carefully next to her.

He scoots in closer to her and wraps an arm around her waist pulling her closer to him. He peels the hood from her head and places a loving kiss on the top of it. However, he feels her shift beside him and she pulls her body away from his altogether, leaving no part of her touching him at all, save for his hand which is still tacked on to her waist. When he doesn't take the hint, she reaches behind herself, grabs his hands, and roughly tosses it off of her body.

Chris' brows raise in shock at her rejection and when he reaches out for her again, she scoots even further away, almost falling off the bed.

"Belle," He whispers. No answer. "Belly," He tries again a little louder. Still nothing. "Isabelle," He speaks in a normal speaking voice and places a hand on her hip but she only shrugs him off again and doesn't answer. He props himself up on his elbow stretches his body over hers and turns on the light, "Isabelle Bianca Lavigne, if you don't tell me why you won't let me touch you right now, I swear to god B," He trails off, his voice stern and assertive.

Isabelle finally answers at this, her face bare of any makeup, only covered in sadness and mild insecurity and she turns to face him. His eyes soften slightly at her expression but he maintains composure and control of the situation. He's always had that power over her. And in a strange way, both of them like it more than they should.

"There's nothing to say, I'm just hot." She lies through her teeth, and turns back over.

"Bullshit," He scoffs, "You're in a thick ass sweatshirt, under my heavy ass comforter and turned my fan off. Plus, you're always freezing cold. So try again, Isabelle, and this time, don't lie to me."

"Okay, Chris, if you don't want me to lie," She spits and turns to face him, "I text you five times and I call you six. I leave four voicemails and I even call Matt and yet, I get nothing but radio fucking silence from everyone. Then, my phone buzzes and when I think it's my best friend finally texting me back, I see he's posting on Instagram instead. And not only that," She continues, looking around the room as if there are imaginary cameras around, "He's posting other girls, calling them his number ones, as if his, correct me if I'm wrong, best friend isn't worried sick in his bed, because he won't text her back. So, sue me, if I don't want you to touch me right now, as I'm not feeling very loved." She huffs, rolls back over and turns the light back off.

Chris sits, his mouth agape in silence. She can shut him up real damn fast, it seems. She's never said anything like that to him. He's around other girls all the time and she's never reacted like that before. He blows out a long breath before reaching for her body again. He drapes an arm over her waist and starts to pull her against him again.

She struggles against his strength again but he whispers her name over and over in her ear, sending shivers down her spine. She gives in and relaxes in his grip, "There we go. Relax and let me talk to you, okay? And let me see that face, hm?" He pulls the hood from her head and turns the lamp on once again. There she is. He whispers to himself.

"Is this about Paige?" He questions, turning her onto her back and pulling her impossibly closer to his chest. He brushes her hair out of her face and behind her ear, his hand slipping under the hoodie and onto her bare stomach, his pinky slipping under the waistband of her panties; a habit he had made when she got comfortable enough to sleep without any pants on.

"Christopher," She groans slapping her hands over her face, "It's embarrassing."

"No," He grabs her wrists and pulls her hands from he face, "it's not. She's just a friend, I promise. She wanted to post those for some P.R. bullshit. I barely know her." He swears, looking into her innocent green eyes. His left hand plays with the hair on her forehead and his right hands still lies on her stomach and halfway in her underwear.

"You don't understand, Chris. I already have a hard time being your friend because of your fans. Sometimes I question if any of this is even worth it and then when I see shit like this, other women who just think you're young and sexy, claiming you and shit, it just makes me wonder if I'm really your best friend or if you just keep me around because you feel like you have to. There are so many women who could have, who should have you, but I feel like I'm just keeping you from being happy. Fuck, I mean, I react like this when someone just posts some bullshit about you. It's actually pathetic Chris. And not to mention, Paige is gorgeous. Like, the kind of beautiful you think is made up. Shes blonde and skinny and kind and social and successful, and everything I'm not. Just seeing you with her, looking so happy and so friendly and close. It made me want to tear my skin off, Chris. I've never felt like that before, and it's really scaring me."

Chris looks stunned next to her, his hand frozen on her head and on her waist. He closes his eyes and shakes is head, "Wait back up. One, fuck my fans and what they have to say about you. I love you more than I love any single one of them. Two, you are my best friends. Always have been. No other woman is ever gonna come between that. Third, sure Paige is pretty, but you. Oh, Belle, I call you princess for a reason. You are the most beautiful woman I have seen and I never want to hear you say you aren't, what was it, skinny, kind, social and successful ever again, do you understand?" He grabs her jaw and forces her face on his. She just stares into his eyes and nods like she's under a spell. "You are a goddess to me, Isabelle. If I have to get your name tattooed on my forehead and that promise burned into my skin for you to believe me, I will." He looks down into her eyes once more, his grip still strong on her chiseled jaw.

She leans into his warm body, his bare chest on display for her to touch. She flattens her hand against his left peck and stares into his blue eyes. His right hand moves to the small of her back, his pinky still in her panties. He presses her body into his, pushing her stomach into his groin. The two of them suddenly become very aware of two things: (1) The meaning of the conversation they just had. (2) The lack of clothing both of them have on. Chris clad only in his boxers and her in his sweatshirt with no shirt or bra and a pair of tiny lace panties.

"I don't just love you, Isabelle," He whispers, "I'm in love with you. You're my best girl, always have been. I can meet a thousand girls like Paige and you'll always be my favorite girl."

"You have no idea how long I've waited for you to say that," She sighs, before stretching her neck to meet his, her nose brushing against his.

"God, Isabelle, you're gonna be the death of me", Chris breathes, before roughly pressing his lips against hers. He rolls himself onto his back, with his back pressed against the headboard. He grabs her hips and hoists her over his lap, allowing her to straddle his thighs. She places her hands on his shoulders as his hands roam her tiny body. The kiss is wild and wet as their tongues exchange saliva between them. Isabella involuntarily grinds her hips down into his, but Chris is too caught up in the kiss to notice.

"Tell me, ma', " He breaks the kiss and catches his breath, "Say it. Tell me you love me. I can't keep kissing you if I don't hear you say it."

She leans into his ear and blows a soft breath, causing his body to shudder, "I'm in love with you, Chris. I always have been."

With that, his hands squeeze her waist and his lips are back on hers. The kiss is rough and passionate and insanely sloppy. This time, when Isabelle swivels her hips on his, his breathe hitches and his hands shoot out to stop her, "Baby, baby." He pulls away form the kiss and the loss of suction sounds around the room, "You have no idea how bad I want to fuck you right now, but I'm too tired to fuck you how you deserve. I need you to answer me honestly Princess, will you be able to control yourself if I don't stop now?" He tilts his head. She bites her bottom lip and gives him guilty fuck me eyes, shaking her head. "So do I have to stop?" He questions one more time to be sure.

"I think so," She drops her hands from his shoulders and places them on his thighs behind her, her hips still moving slightly against his grip.

"That's okay. We can go to bed, I can hold you as much as I want. and in the morning, we can figure all of this out and if you're good, I'll fuck as hard and as good as my best girl deserves, how's that sound? Hm?" He questions, running his hands up her waist, teasingly tugging on her panties and letting them snap back every here and there.

"Fine, I guess." She gives in and flops over to her side, off of his lap, turning away from him.

"Ma' ," He chuckles softly, "I'm doing this for you, ya' know kid? I could fuck you right now, but it wouldn't be that good and you know that." He pulls her back over to face him and hikes her thigh over his lap and stomach as he lays down beside her, he head resting on his chest.

"Mhmmm" She hums annoyed and tired, lazily bucking her hips against his literal hip bone and groin.

"Settle, ma', " He whispers gripping her hip tightly and turning off the lamp. The two fall asleep, her hands curled up under her jaw and his hands roaming every inch of the body that will soon belong to him.

///

a/n: alright! how do we feel? i definitely got a little carried away and i'm not sure how i feel. let me know please! also, let me know if ya'll want a part 2.

like and reblog pls!!! i need my blog to grow....

all the love, she ☆

part 2 here!!!

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x oc #chris sturniolo x fem!oc #childhood best friends to lovers #friends to lovers #fluff #angst with a happy ending #light angst #light smut #dom/sub #Spotify

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dfortrafalgar · 2 months

Text

I'm Losing You... (But We're Filling the Cracks)

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem. But now, it might as well be a dream come true.

Warnings: read chapter 1 for warnings.

Chapter 31

[Prev] [Next]

“I… I feel like I need to push,” you grunted out.

Your doctor ran to your bedside. “Okay, dear, okay, follow my lead, alright?” She assisted in turning you on your side, adjusting your various tubes to better accommodate your position. “Like we discussed, okay? This position will help reduce the pressure on your pelvis and make it much easier to push.”

You nodded, your expression contorting in a grimace as a much stronger contraction ran through you in waves, lingering in your muscles like radiation. Your hands were curled up by your head, lacking anything to hold on to, so you resorted to fisting the white cotton sheets covering the mattress below you. It felt mildly uncomfortable, but as soon as you were settled, you felt like your muscles were able to work much more effectively. You breathed out a pained sigh, the pressure in your lower abdomen increasing in waves.

“You’re starting to crown already,” another nurse spoke up. “Your body is already so primed for delivery! It’s like you’ve been practicing. If I didn’t know any better, I’d assume this was your third or fourth baby!”

“I’m going to hold your hand, alright?” your doctor asked, confirming with you on what would make you the most comfortable. “How bad is your pain? We can get you started on an epidural.”

“It’s…” As soon as the contraction ceased, another one followed in its place. You were outrageously close. “It’s pretty bad,” you confirmed.

“I’m impressed, when I gave birth to my first, I almost passed out. The pain was so bad!” one of the nurses at the other side of your room called out. “You have quite the tolerance!”

You flashed a weak smile. If only these nurses knew.

Your doctor rubbed your head reassuringly. She really did feel like a mother in her own right. “We’ll start that epidural. Once that’s in place and you’re stable, we’ll begin pushing. Can I get you anything?”

Your eyes wearily glanced up at her calm, reassuring face. “I know it’s a long shot but… can you call my husband?”

—

The second lung was almost fully detached. Over halfway through the surgery now, it had been much faster and more successful than anyone thought it would be. Alongside a few breaks that were taken by the staff to relieve themselves and stretch their backs, sterile orange juice breaks sipped through plastic straws, and brief physical therapy for the unconscious patient to make sure his blood continued to circulate properly and his skin wasn’t damaged, the operation was going very, very smoothly.

And thank goodness. Law needed some good news right now.

Among the beeping sounds of the patient’s heart monitor, the wrrr of the bypass machine, and the soft chatter amongst the team as they worked, a new sound infiltrated the space. In the farthest corner of the room, Law’s hospital pager went off.

“What was that?” one of the nurses asked.

“My pager,” Law responded. His voice was laced with anxiety. He was barely keeping it together, and who knows why his pager might have been going off in the middle of an operation.

The circulating nurse took it upon herself to snatch up the small device, pressing the response button. The best, or arguably worst, thing about the pagers was how loud they were. Everyone could hear the voice that came through the other end.

[Dr. Trafalgar Law? Dr. Trafalgar?] It was a woman’s voice.

“I’m listening,” he shouted back. The nurse stepped slightly closer with the pager in her hand.

[This is Nurse Kaya from Labor & Delivery, your wife is crowning. Just wanted to let you know.]

Spoken far too casually for the news that made Law’s stomach drop like a brick. He was missing the birth.

“FUCK,” he suddenly shouted, his hands still carefully working at the lung’s connective tissue. It was as if his body and his mind were on completely different wavelengths. So much for operating room etiquette. The air in the room had gone completely cold as nervous glances among the team were shared.

“Doctor, I’m not opposed to relieving you with another on-call surgeon. I know this is a huge ordeal, but we’re almost done and… this is a special case,” one of the head nurses spoke up.

He was clearly deliberating heavily in his mind. He wanted to run, carry himself as fast as his feet could handle, and get to your side. He needed to be there with you. He was missing the birth of his first child. A lump developed in his throat. The protective husband side of him had the stoic, focused surgeon side pinned against the wall with a knife to his throat.

“Get the on-call surgeon here immediately and have him gowned and sterilized,” he finally barked, passing his tools off to his assistant and stepping away from the body. A few relieved gasps were shared amongst the team as the circulating nurse brought Law out from the theater and into the prep room where she assisted in frantically undressing him from his surgical scrubs and passing his phone and pager back into his possession. His operating room attire was quickly disposed of in a biohazard waste bin while he quickly washed his hands in the nearby basin.

“Doctor, good luck,” she said with a smile, her eyes crinkling under her mask.

Law could only pass her a faint grin as he shrugged on his white coat, stuffed his phone in the pocket of his slacks, and sprinted out of the prep room. On the way, the on-call surgeon passed by and planted a reassuring smack to Law’s shoulder before replacing him.

Law was breaking every hospital rule there was. Sprinting through the hallway, his feet hammering against the tiled ground as he fought his way through the hospital’s expansive campus, past patient rooms, nurses’ stations, and waiting areas. Why did L&D have to be so far away?! His eyes followed the signs on the walls pointing him in the right direction, his muscle memory leading the way. He scaled two flights of stairs two-at-a-time, the muscles in his legs screaming at him to stop. He was almost positive he would tear a muscle with how fast he was running. But that didn’t matter.

Finally, finally, he pushed through the doors into the maternity ward, flashing his badge frantically at the nurse behind the check-in desk. He was panting, barely able to catch his breath, one of his hands shaking as it supported his weight against the desk.

“My… Trafalgar… where… shit…” he panted, beads of sweat pilling on his forehead below his ragged bangs.

“Down the hall, take a left, then a right,” the nurse instructed, her voice pleasantly calm. She must have seen this a lot.

He barely uttered out a ‘thank you’ before he was off again, pounding down the tiled hallways past delivery and recovery rooms, past the expansive NICU and small groups of families and doctors. He had tunnel vision. He needed to get to you.

Take a left.

Then a right.

He almost sprinted past the door to the delivery room you were in, only backtracking when he caught the pained sound of your voice from within. He flung the door open, nurses surrounding you jumping from shock at the sight.

“Dr. Trafalgar?!” one of them exclaimed, her eyes wide.

Law ignored her.

Your eyes went wide, your hand being held by the doctor who had admitted you. Tears immediately brimmed in the corners of your vision as a pained smile broke out on your face. Law took the spot of your doctor instantly, almost throwing himself at you as he littered your face with kisses, grasping your hand and holding in his pain as you squeezed harshly against his bones, the force of another contraction gripping your body. You were laying on your side, one of your knees tucked upward toward your chest as far as you could manage to allow the baby more room to come out. You had an epidural tube sticking out of your spine, your upper body barely covered by blankets and the open-back hospital gown to accommodate for the birth.

“You made it…” you wheezed, torn between the attention on your husband and the baby coming out of you.

“I couldn’t miss it… I couldn’t…” he wheezed. He was still very winded, his lungs shuddering for breaths. Any longer and he would’ve been the one needing a dual pulmonary transplant.

“Ready for another push?” shouted one of the nurses at your bedside above the noise.

You nodded, biting your lower lip. Your face was glistening with sweat. Your body tensed up, gripping Law’s hand like a lifeline as you pushed, a pained groan emanating from deep within your throat as your eyes pinched shut.

“How is she doing?” demanded Law, gazing at the doctor who took her spot at the end of your bed where your legs were parted.

“She’s doing great, both babies are in cephalic position, her blood pressure is good and her heart rate is even better, it’s unlikely she’ll need emergency intervention. I’m incredibly pleased considering her medical history,” the older doctor explained. “Come over here.”

Law gazed at you, a fond smile on your lips as you released his hand so he could join his extended colleague at the foot of your bed.

“Delivering on her side helps lessen the pressure on her body as well as the baby’s,” the woman explained.

Law’s breath caught in his throat. Emerging from you was a head of fuzzy black hair, slicked with amniotic fluid. One of the nurses called for another push, and your lower body tensed up, your muscles clenching as hard as they could while you pushed the baby out more. Law quickly returned to your side, grasping your hand once more.

“Baby… how are you doing?” he asked, desperate for your personal opinion, his lungs finally settling as he took in your exhausted appearance.

You grimaced. “The epidural has been helping, but it hurt like a bitch going in,” you groaned. “I’ve been having contractions since 2 in the morning. I just want them to be out already.”

“Once the head is delivered, the rest will be easy!” one of the nurses called, a bright smile on her face.

Law felt himself smile as well. Being a delivery nurse must have been incredibly rewarding on the best days. He glanced at the clock on the far wall. It was almost 10 in the evening. His heart panged in his chest.

“You’re doing amazing, baby, you’re amazing,” he whispered in your ear, planting another kiss against the soft, sweat-soaked skin of your forehead.

“One more push, dear!” the doctor called.

Your eyes squeezed shut, your muscles contracting with all your might at the count of the nurses assisting you, your hand clamping down on Law’s. He held in his grimace of pain, supporting you as best he could. Some slight hand bruises were nothing compared to what you were experiencing. How chivalrous of him.

A sudden rushing feeling emanated from your body, a wet sensation prickling your skin through the numbness of the epidural. Your heart rate picked up, your eyes growing wide as you worriedly asked, “What was that?!”

“Your water broke, dear! Everything’s alright!” a nurse responded.

You moaned in pain. “It’s about damn time.” Your grip on Law’s hand released slightly, and you watched as a small smile appeared on his lips.

With one more push, the pressure in your groin finally dissipated somewhat as a nurse pulled your first baby out of you. With the collapse of the amniotic sacs, it was much easier to deliver the rest of its body, much to your relief. As soon as the contractions stopped, however, they began again.

“Keep going, darling, just one more to go!” the doctor called. “It’s right there!”

You barely had the energy to pick your head up to look, and you watched through half-lidded eyes as Law examined the nurses huddled around your baby at the foot of your bed. It was placed in a small portable incubator, being hooked up to machines to assess its condition. 35 weeks was still pretty early, so it made sense. Its umbilical cord was clamped about two minutes after emerging from your womb. Law tried to keep his anxiety repressed as your body shuddered with another contraction.

“The second baby is always easier, darling, you’re already fully dilated from the first,” explained your doctor, giving a reassuring pat to your ankle.

“First baby’s stable!” called one of the nurses. “It’s a girl!”

Law felt his chest clench at the news. His eyes lit up as he gazed at you, a smile pulling on his lips. A weary smile formed on your own face as you were instructed to push once again. Much to the room’s relief, the second baby did indeed come out much quicker than the first. The loss of the amniotic fluid from your uterus and the stretching that your pelvis had endured with the first made it worlds easier for your second baby to emerge into the world. The process repeated- a quick cleaning, a clamp after two minutes, and a quick check of vital signs.

“Another girl!” one of the nurses called, assessing the second in another small incubator. “Also stable!”

You were helped onto your back in somewhat of a hurry, the two boxes containing your babies pushed toward your bedside where they were quickly gathered in bundles of blankets and placed on your chest. It was all happening so fast, the world was practically blurring around you. As soon as your babies touched your skin, it was as if a deep-rooted instinct emerged from you. Law watched with pride as you nestled your newborns into your chest, your gentle hands holding their backs as they took in their first breaths as living humans.

Holy shit.

The room had quickly gone quiet around the four of you, a few of the nurses cleaning you up and reviewing your condition while additional nurses left the room to prepare suitable beds in the NICU for your newborns. Even though they were both healthy and stable, they needed some extra time to grow.

“Law…?” you asked weakly, turning your head to look at your husband.

Law’s golden eyes were wide, frozen, large, salty tears streaming silently down his cheeks. His chin was quivering as he gazed over you. His three girls.

His girls. He had two daughters.

Your husband huffed out a laugh that sounded more like a weary sob as he moved closer to you, stroking your head with his hand as he gazed warmly over the two tiny bodies on your chest, making their first contact with their mother. He wiped his eyes clumsily with the sleeve of his white coat, inhaling a gross-sounding sniffle through his nose.

“I’m sorry I’m crying…” he blubbered.

“Don’t be…” you replied, your own tears welling in your eyes. “You’re finally a daddy. I’m happy you’re crying.” You quietly laughed as Law reached forward with his hand, wiping your tears away from your cheeks, followed by another tender kiss against your jaw.

A nurse quickly stopped by your bedside, slipping small white cotton hats onto the tiny noggins of your daughters before leaving the four of you alone for a few more moments. The skin-to-skin time was crucial for their attachment to you, and once that was established, they’d be able to go into the NICU for their extra care.

Both of the girls, despite being only around 35 weeks, had near-full heads of hair. It made you wonder what they would have looked like being born at full-term. The one over your left breast had tiny black curls that still stuck to her head. The one over your right breast had thinner, straighter wisps of a lighter brown color. They’d come into their own in a few more months as they grew, but even just from first looks, they were both clearly their father’s daughters.

—

The minutes following the birth were quite nasty if one were to ask you. Law thought they were an interesting few moments, but you weren’t listening to him. He was biased. And frankly, you hated the way it felt when two placentas ejected themselves from your body. It was like having another two babies but slimier and worse.

Your epidural was removed and you were cleaned up and helped into a cotton gown to rest in. Your legs were weak from your long labor, but you were rewarded with some light food that didn’t taste like hospital sludge. The third best piece of news you received was that, by some miracle, you didn’t tear a bit, and your uterus had completely and successfully done its job.

Finally.

You passed out very soon after your placentas were delivered, exhausted and completely spent after delivering two babies.

Law took the opportunity to retreat to the NICU and oversee his daughters as they were hooked up to breathing tubes and heart monitors to ensure that their good conditions remained that way. They had their hand prints and foot prints taken by gentle nurses who were cooing over how cute they were, a sight that brought a smile to Law’s eyes.

“Dr. Trafalgar,” the voice of the doctor who oversaw your delivery shook him from his blissful state. “Congratulations.”

“Dr. Linlin,” he replied as he turned to face her, shaking her hand. “It’s good to see you. Thank you for everything.”

“No need to thank me, dear,” she hummed. “I’m a veteran of the motherhood game. It’s all in a day’s work for me. I’m so glad to see you happy and healthy, and with a wife even. I remember the first day I met you, that skinny, scared looking post-grad doctor forced to speak in front of a huge crowd.”

Law groaned, rolling his eyes as the memory. “One of the worst days of my life, for sure.”

The woman laughed, a hearty, bouncy chuckle. She hadn’t changed a bit in the 20-some-odd years, probably even longer, that she had been a doctor. “But look at you now. A huge, monumental surgery, and now twins. All in one day.”

“I’m going to sleep for centuries after all of this settles,” he added with a small smirk. “After helping my wife, obviously.”

Dr. Linlin gave Law a hearty smack on his back, right in between his shoulders, making him lurch forward slightly. “Your daughters will stay in the NICU for 24 hours for observation, and then they’ll be transferred to stay with the two of you in postpartum. Let me know if you need anything, alright? In a few hours, I’ll be back in your room to help you two sign the birth certificates.”

Law watched as the woman walked down the hall, her own bright pink doctor’s coat trailing behind her. One of the only things Law knew about Linlin was the amount of kids she had. It seemed like she popped out one every year, and yet she still had the time to be a labor and delivery doctor. He shook his head, trying to ignore the logistics of it, before walking back to the postpartum room you had been transferred to.

You were awake and staring at the ceiling above you, your hands clasped around your belly. You were still quite swollen, having been told that it would take a bit for your stomach to return to its pre-pregnant state, but you were already trying to come to terms with the fact that you would most likely never look exactly the same ever again. Not after carrying and shoving out two humans. When Law entered your quiet room, you smiled, all your anxieties melting away at the sight of your husband.

He wasted no time in crossing the space between you, leaning over you to plant a loving kiss against your lips. All the emotions he had been holding in throughout the day, all the tension that arose during his mad dash through the hospital, and all the worries that the two of you had shared during your pregnancy struggles flooded between your exchange. One of your hands traveled up to caress his cheek, your fingers trailing across his sideburns and into his slightly greasy black hair, pulling him ever closer to you.

“I’m happy you didn’t tear, or need anything else, really,” he whispered, pulling away from you. “After everything you went through, you needed an easy birth.”

You grinned. “I like to think our two other babies, somewhere out there in the universe, wanted it to be easy for us. For once.”

Law pulled up a chair and sat beside you, leaning against your bed and dropping his head onto your shoulder. You gently caressed your fingers through his hair in the way you knew he loved, watching with a fond smile as his eyes closed.

“What did they say about the NICU?” you asked, your voice tired and weary.

“24 hours. Then they’ll be transferred here to stay with us.” Law kissed your hand cheek. “They’ll be eligible for discharge after they’re able to eat, stay warm, and breathe efficiently.”

“Speaking of which,” you stated, slowly moving yourself to sit up despite the aches in your bones. “I pumped for the first time when you were looking at them.”

“How quick were you?” he asked with a joking tone. “I didn’t think I was gone for that long.”

“It didn’t take as long as I thought it would, but I also didn’t need to give that much milk. One of the nurses helped me, and they’ll be able to feed them in the NICU. At some point in another hour or so, though, she told me I’ll have to visit them there so we can make sure they can latch on their own.” One of your hands traveled up to painfully grab at one of your breasts. “I’m already feeling so achy in my chest. It’s gonna be a rough few months.”

Law grinned, dipping his head back down. “But you’ll have help. Don’t forget that.”

You hummed in response. “You’re right.”

After a few extra moments of silence, you added. “Names?”

“Hm?”

You chuckled. “Names. We have to name our girls.”

“Oh shit, you’re right,” Law muttered. He had completely forgotten one of the most important parts of being a new parent. “What were you thinking?”

“Cora and Rose,” you said, matter-of-factly. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while. And now we know they’re both girls.”

Law smiled, a rare, genuine expression that reached his eyes. A smile he only ever showed you. “Cora and Rose… which one is which?”

“Rose is the one with those little black curls. Cora is the one with the lighter hair,” you confirmed.

Another tender kiss was planted on your forehead. “I couldn’t ask for anything better than that.”

—

You didn’t expect breastfeeding to be as euphoric as it was. In less of an immense pleasure way, and more of a ‘holy crap, it feels like my breasts are losing 25 pounds’ kind of way.

Your girls were already so good. Cora latched instantly, one of her tiny, weak hands curling slightly upward to grasp at your skin. Both of them were still curled in a fetal position, and it would take them a bit longer to finally stretch out and look more like usual babies, but right now, they were the perfect size to swaddle and nestle into your skin.

The neonatal intensive care unit was a surprisingly colorful place. You always imagined it would be rife with anxiety, desperation, and sadness, a bunch of little, sick babies fighting for their lives, but the second you and Law finally entered to see your daughters, all those expectations flew out the window. Their corner was bright and colorful, with rainbows painting the walls and a fairly large window with a view of the surrounding city below. It was pitch black out, just past midnight, but you imagined the daylight would flood the room with a warm, natural light.

Your daughters were already so warm, kept insulated by their little cotton swaddles they were bundled in, and their tiny beanie hats that covered their fragile heads. The sight warmed your heart.

A breastfeeding specialist (which was a job you had no idea existed until then), helped situate you in a chair, accommodating your sore and spent body. She assisted with adequately positioning your daughters, one for each nipple, and gave you tips on how to make sure they latch and stay on while nursing from you.

You had an additional blood test a few hours after the birth, when your girls were done with their first natural feed and were now sleeping calmly in their incubators. It was looking like you’d be able to go home within the next 24 hours, if everything continued as normal.

While you were taking a light nap in the chair beside your daughters’ beds, Law used your phone to snap some pictures of Cora and Rose in their tiny beds side by side, smiling as he pulled up your text messages and sent them off to Shachi, Penguin, and Ikkaku. He didn’t think they’d respond, with it being so late, but their messages rolled in almost instantly, bringing a fond smile to his face.

Ika-chan OMGOGMOGMGOMGOMGOGMOGMGOGMOMG

Ika-chan TWO LITTLE GIRLS

Ika-chan ARE THEY HEALTHY????????

Ika-chan ARE *YOU* HEALTHY?????????????

Shachiiii Still cant believe those things came out of you whatthefuck

Shachiiii Must have hurt like a mf

PenPen Shachi’s next to me sobbing his eyes out

PenPen I’m crying too. But I’m stronger than him

PenPen Fuck no im not. Im soaked over here.

It was then that his pager beeped. He forgot he still had it on him. Technically, he was still on the clock. He gently placed your phone on the small table beside you to not wake you up before reaching into his coat pocket and procuring his pager, stepping out into the hallway to not disturb his three sleeping beauties.

“This is Dr. Trafalgar,” he said into the small device.

Some slight static came through the speaker. [Hey, this is Operation Triple Organ Replacement calling in from the OR! How’s our best doctor doing?]

Law couldn’t fight the smile that formed on his lips. “Before I answer, how was the rest of the procedure?”

Some small chuckles and a few mildly annoyed groans were heard. [Patient did absolutely amazing. He’s in recovery, stable, and is slowly being woken from anesthesia. They’ll be able to take his intubation tube out in a few more hours, but that’s out of our hands. Soooo…?]

Law felt relief fill his lungs. A successful operation was everything he was hoping for, and now he felt he could finally rest easy. “I have two daughters, Cora and Rose. Everyone is happy, healthy, and resting.”

He needed to pull the pager away from his face as a cacophony of garbled cheering was heard. A distorted [FUCK YEAH] echoed through the speaker.

“Are you guys still in the pre-op room?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

[Yeah, we’re all cleaned up and everything, but we were waiting for the right time to page you. We’re abusing hospital equipment, we know, but this is CRUCIAL.]

Law couldn’t blame his team in the slightest. It was past midnight on May 13th, and they had just completed the biggest surgical procedure of their lives, probably the most daunting surgery their hospital would ever see. They deserved to rest and relax, and yet here they were, still in the pre-op theater, celebrating their lead doctor.

The black-haired surgeon smiled, pressing down on the transmission button with his thumb. “You guys go clean up, alright? Treat yourselves. Everyone did absolutely amazing today.”

[Copy that, Doctor. Tell your wife we said congrats!]

Law slipped the pager back into his pocket before reentering the NICU room. His stern, golden eyes softened instantly upon seeing you awake, leaning over the side of Rose’s bed and idly trailing your thumb softly over her chubby cheek. Beside Rose, Cora’s arms were already outstretched far enough that she was almost encroaching on her sister’s space. Soon enough, the small oxygen tubes taped to their fresh faces would be gently removed, and they’d be able to go home and sleep in their cribs, in your apartment. Law leaned over you and kissed the crown of your head, rubbing his inked hand between your shoulder blades.

“Hey, baby?” he whispered, gazing down at you.

You leaned into his side, melting at his touch. “Yeah?”

“I’m so proud of you.”

#x reader #reader insert #fem reader #one piece x reader #law x reader #op x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar law #trafalgar d water law #i'm losing you

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gayerthanevertbh · 1 year

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pretty when you cry.

pairings: natasha romanoff x fem!reader

n.r masterlist | navigation | n.r one-shots masterlist

summary: you and nastaha were once a happy couple, until she became a whole different person.

warnings: extremely toxic!natasha, degrading, alcoholism, verbal abuse, cheating, pure angst - 18+ MINORS DNI.

author’s note: just did this anon request! hopefully you enjoy this!

Natasha was the ideal girlfriend. She was tenacious, loving, generous, and irresistibly romantic, among other qualities that are difficult to put into words. The redhead was everything through your mending heart during the first year of your relationship. She took you on daily dates, brought you flowers every week, took care of you whenever school got in the way, and would make love to you in your bed until the sun rose again. She took you to her favorite forest, where she had a small cabin in the middle of the woods, and you'd sometimes spend time alone with her there. You sighed at those happy memories, they were once good when she suddenly transforms into a completely different person.

"I'm going to the compound for a bit," Natasha murmured as she grabbed her coat and walked to the front door without looking over her shoulder or even kissing goodbye. "You don't need to cook dinner; Steve will do it anyway."

You only responded with a nod, knowing she wouldn't say anything else but leave the house. As soon as she was gone, you could feel your own tears streaming down your cheeks, not knowing when they would stop. The pain consumed you, the loneliness fed into your system, and the sense of betrayal lingered in your mind for a long time. One thing is certain: you're not sure if you still trust Natasha. Would you? She's been acting this way for nearly two years, so you're not sure if she's still faithful to you.

You'd like to believe she was still faithful.

When the sun goes down and the air becomes colder, you decide to go to bed early because you were expecting Natasha to be late. You were used to this routine because she was gone every night. She'd come home around midnight on occasion, but most of the time she'd return the next day but not sleep in the same bed as you. She'd either sleep in the other room or on the couch, drunk from the night before. Most of the time, she comes home and then goes out to drink with her friends. The Avengers were no longer her friends; they had turned against her because of everything she had done to you. You were constantly fighting, which caused the older woman to leave the house. And whenever you mentioned these fights to Sam, he'd always say, "I told you so, Y/n."

He was right, but you still had your hopes for your girlfriend.

Surprisingly, before you got to bed, Natasha came home early that night – not even intoxicated. She goes to the kitchen and pours herself some orange juice, while lighting a cigarette from her mouth. You leaned against the countertop and asked, “Why are you home early?”

The woman scoffed.

“Can I not be home early?”

“Of course you can,” you stated quietly under your breath, knowing that within the next few seconds she would be yelling at you. “I don’t know, it’s just that you are never home.”

“I got work, Y/n. I save people’s lives, I need a fucking break from all of this shit in my life.”

You are not saving our relationship.

Knowing that she was right for the whole time, you decided to end the conversation there by saying: “Okay, you’re right. I’m going to bed.”

But she didn’t stop there, she continued to speak.

“What have you been doing all day?” she asked, almost in a condescending tone. She swung the cigarette away from her lips, chuckling. “I bet you were just lying down in bed all day, expecting me to give you everything.”

“I work too, Nat,” you sighed, pressing your fingers onto your forehead. “I don’t want to fight, okay? Can't we just go to bed?”

“You’re avoiding this conversation.”

“That’s because I know what you’re going to say.”

“What do you want me to tell you, hm?” she takes a few steps closer to your frail body, looking down at you with so much power in her green eyes. You dared yourself not to gaze back at her, because if you did – you were doomed. “Look at me!”

“I can’t.” you whispered with a voice crack, causing her to groan.

"You're so difficult to talk to," she grumbled, hurling a glass against the wall, which splattered all over the floor, your body flinching at the harsh sound. She didn't bother to console you, and she was even moved by the sound of your whimper. "You little bitch, don't cry at me. You expect me to give you everything you fucking want?!"

“I don’t even ask for anything anymore, Natasha!” you yelled back at her, wiping the tears away using the back of your hand. “We barely talk! Do you expect me to ask something from you when we don’t even communicate?”

“But that’s what you are, a greedy bitch!”

You let out a painful sob as the sound of her voice and the use of her words made your knees weaken. She's been calling you these things lately. You tried your hardest to remain strong, but it eventually caught up with you. It really does.

"I-" you stammered, afraid to look into her angry eyes. She was breathing heavily through her nose, pleading with you to speak up. “I don’t want to fight, please.”

"You keep avoiding this type of shit," she said vaguely. "Whenever I called you out, you'd tell me to go to bed. Y/n, I'm not a fucking kid. "I'm an adult!"

“Then act like one!”

Natasha raises her hand to strike you as you close your eyes, but she stops. She looked at you for a moment before dropping her hand, noticing that she was completely unaware of what she was doing, despite the fact that she wasn't drunk. She sighed as she pinched her nose bridge, mumbling: “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

"Whatever," you replied, walking back to your room and closing the bedroom door behind you. You cried yourself to sleep that night, knowing that you would have to leave her at any moment.

What happened to us?

The next few days were crucial. You and Natasha never discussed that night, and she never intended to. You were fine with the idea because it was just another way to avoid a fight, but you also wanted your girlfriend back to the way she used to be. Despite your optimism, you were beginning to give up. You had a strong feeling she would never return. She'll stay this way forever.

For some ethical reason, you took a visit to the compound, finding out if Natasha was there or not. When Tony let you in, you were surprised that she wasn’t there. Huh, you thought. Where has she gone?

“She’s not here, Y/n,” said Tony from behind. “She uhm… left somewhere.”

You turned over your shoulder, giving him a frown. What did he mean by that exactly?

“Can you tell me where she is?”

"I'm not sure if I should," he admitted, his face flushed. He rested both of his hands on his waist, still debating whether or not to tell you. He continued, “I think you’ll be very angry if I–”

Steve speaks up, his arm crossed. “You should tell her, Tony. She is entitled to know.”

"But Natasha is our family," he said. Were you also not family? His words pierced your heart, as if a knife had been thrust through it. “She’ll be very upset.”

"We've been upset with your girlfriend for a long time," the old man sighed, leaning uncomfortably against the wall. You sat down on the stool, silently requesting that he continue. "She's been cold with us, and there's something you should know before it's too late."

"I'm sorry," Tony apologizes to you. You could tell he was sincere because his eyes weren't looking back at you, and you already knew where this was going. "I'm sorry for disappointing you, sweetheart."

“Tell me what’s going on.” you whispered in final, hearing Steve breathe deeply.

"Natasha has been flirting with one of our young recruits for the past year," Steve said, his head low. "But she's gone now because Natasha asked her to. We couldn't get a hold of her, but she had every right to leave. She had no idea Natasha had a girlfriend, which made her very upset. I’m not saying you shouldn’t be mad at the girl, but that’s what happened.”

You have known this from the very beginning; all you needed to do was stop wishing that Natasha would change into a better person. There was a mixture of anger and sadness in your throat, and you didn't care much if you cried in front of them.

"Oh," you murmured, unsure what to say next..

“I know this is very hard for you, and I’m sorry that you had to hear it this way. You deserve to know what she has been doing, Y/n.”

“Did they ever had sex?”

Steve shrugged. “I’m not too sure about that, but maybe they have.”

"They probably did," Tony says. "Natasha is family, but we don't support her actions. We all know how much she loves you, but I don’t think she’s right for you.”

"That is certainly a wake-up call," you sniffled, wiping your tears away with the back of your hand. "I had a feeling she'd do something like this, let alone fuck them. I'm not sure if there are any more girls. I just…”

I just want to love you again, but I don’t know how.

You were disgusted by the thought of Natasha fucking another girl. Were you not providing her with the satisfaction she required? Most importantly, what happened to you? You had a feeling you were the source of the problem, but you couldn't hurt Natasha in this way - it was too much.

All you know is that you wanted to leave her, you didn’t care if she cheated on you, you just wanted to stay away from her presence.

“I’m going home then,” you stood up from the stool as you walked towards the front door, giving them a small smile from your lips. “I’ll see you when I’m around.”

You quickly left the compound and returned home with a scream, throwing vases around the living room area as you reflected on the times Natasha had degraded you as a person, doing infidelity scenarios behind your back, doing the things you were supposed to do with her without your presence. You returned to your old bedroom with her as you packed your belongings, leaving the jewelry she had given you as well as the books she had also given you. You had enough of her horrible behavior; you were done being hers.

Natasha returned home a few hours later, with broken glasses all over the floor, ruined picture frames from the wall, and the bedroom thrashed with pure rage. When she looked at you, you were sitting on the ground, and she already knew what was going on - she was just too embarrassed to admit it.

You muttered to yourself, your eyes getting heavy, “You finally came home.”

She asked with a choking sound in her voice, “Did they tell you?”

“They told me everything.”

“Can we talk about it?” she asked, her voice becoming softer as she looked at you.

“If you're willing to change,” you said so bitterly that you didn't recognize yourself. “If you're willing to give up the girls you've been messaging.”

“I will,” she rushed onto her knees and embraced you, kissing your collarbone. But this did not seem to have much of an effect on you, as you continued to have a trusting nature toward the woman who has caused you god knows how many problems. “I promise I will, okay?" I'm sorry, baby. I'm truly sorry. I didn't intend for this to happen.”

You nodded, your nails digging through her jacket, wishing that you could die today without being hers. But if you didn't have her, then who were you to begin with?

“I know,” you patted her back as you felt her lips lightly brush against your skin. “I know, don’t worry.”

Natasha was only perfect for a week before returning to her old routine after convincing you to stay. She was out of the house once more, drinking until she passed out on the road, then texting a girl on her phone with no shame. You were sick of her by this point. You were tired of being her partner in everything, of being her individual. Heck, she never asked you to marry her, so you weren��t that serious for Natasha. You felt lonelier and lonelier, until you were consumed by the thought of being a bad person for leaving her again.

But you knew tonight was the night of leaving, and Natasha had to just take the fact about it.

The redhead came home around midnight – as expected – and sat down with you, surprisingly kissing your knuckles. But you pulled away instantly, disgusted by her. She frowned.

“What’s wrong? I’m trying to be affectionate here.”

“I saw you texting another girl.”

She laughed, scratching her nose. “I was texting Maria about the mission, that’s all.”

“Maria isn’t named Angela,” you pointed out with a dead pan look on your face. “You don’t talk sex with Maria, you also don’t text her about it. So why would Maria be in your favorites then?”

Natasha sighed, cupping her face as she could feel irritation boiling through her veins.

“Y/n, I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s always that,” you chuckled with sarcasm, standing up from the table as you picked up your duffel bag from the kitchen floor. Natasha raised her chin, noticing that you were holding two bags. She gulped and stood up slowly, trying to hold your face. “Don’t touch me, I’m leaving you.”

“I know I’m stupid, okay? And I'm sorry,” her voice was pleading, and you were sick of hearing it. She pulls you into a hug before shoving her away from your tired body, marching you to the front door until she blocks your path. “I love you, I’m still in love with you! Don’t leave me, please. Baby, don’t.”

“Move out my way, Romanoff.”

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she chanted, her cold hands meeting your arms and stroking your skin as tears streamed down her cheeks. Her pupils were bloodshot. “I’m just going through something right now, I’m sorry. Please, my love, stay. Don’t go, don’t leave…”

You sobbed loudly, stomping your foot on the ground pitifully. “God damn it, Natasha! You always do this! You only tell me you love me the minute I’m leaving you, and it makes me feel tired! I’m tired of you, don’t you understand that?”

“Sweetheart–”

“I’m tired of your mess, you picking up a fight, degrading me as if I’m stupid, and making me feel foolish too! I’m tired of you cheating on me, not spending time with me, choosing a girl over me, and everything else you have done! So please, spare me some remorse and let me leave you!”

“I can’t!” she screams, rubbing her eyes furiously. “I can’t, okay? I need you here with me! Through thick and thin, remember? I will move heaven and earth for you–”

“Do not even do that.”

"I love you so much," she said softly, pecking your lips. You let her kiss you because you knew it was the last time she'd kiss you. “I want everything from you, including your love. I promise to change, okay? I’ll stop drinking, I’ll stop it all! Just don’t leave me, baby… don’t leave.”

You pushed her chest away with all of your might, crying in front of her, feeling defeated once again. You looked at her for one last time before saying, “If I see you change, I will decide if I should take you back or not. But if you don’t, expect me to never see you again.”

You parted ways with her that evening, walking to the bus stop while simultaneously texting your mother to tell her that you'd soon be moving in with her after a separation of five painful years. During the night, Natasha let out all of her pent-up emotions, finally acknowledging the magnitude of what she had lost. She took a broken picture frame, memorizing your face as if it were the last time she looked at you. She smiled brokenly and kissed the picture, whispering for you to come back.

I’m sorry.

Are you?

TEN MONTHS LATER.

“So, when’s the baby shower?”

Your sister smiled happily at you as you rubbed her swollen stomach, amazed with the idea of a woman carrying a child. You sometimes thought about having one, but that was a long time ago. You continued to rub her rounded stomach, smiling fondly at it.

“Probably next week since James is still finding a crib for the baby,” she sighed, smiling down at you. “Are you excited to meet your niece?”

“Of course,” you responded with a grin. “Are you excited to be a mother?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

You were washing the dishes while your sister, Alica, was sleeping in her bedroom because you both ate lunch. While your father was at work, your mother was at the farm. You enjoyed being at home again, finally leaving the city and returning to the rural town where you grew up. When you peeked out the window, you noticed an unusual car going to the gravel and abruptly stopping. At first, you couldn't believe what you saw.

Natasha stepped out of the car with sunglasses on and a leather jacket slung over her shoulder. You felt your breath hitch from the sight of her, unsure whether you should leave or not. But before you could, Natasha knocked on your front door.

Don’t open the door.

Oh, but you did.

Her eyes and her glowing face greeted you. She smiled warmly at you while lowering her head, scared to gaze further into your eyes.

"How did you find out about me?" you inquired, looking around to see if anyone else was nearby.

"I came to get you back again," she said confidently. "Y/n, I want you back. I'd like to get you back again."

You crossed your arms at her and asked, "Look me in the eyes and say it."

That she did. Natasha smiled as she took your hand in hers and brought it close to her lips. She stroked your skin gently, moving your hand into her hair. You sighed contentedly, knowing that this was the Natasha you remembered.

"I stopped drinking and left the compound," she admitted. "Right now, I live in an apartment; I sold the house we used to live in because I don't see the point in me staying there. But I saved our photos on my wall, as well as the mugs you gave me every month."

You laughed, recalling the times you used to give her odd mugs.

"And I, uh, brought a ring with me so that I could ask you to marry me."

Your eyes widen as she pulls a black box from her pocket, opening the cover to reveal a little diamond heart in the center of the ring, glittering beyond your vision. You looked up briefly at her, taken in by the situation.

"Natasha, what-"

"Marry me?" She breathes out, her forehead pressed against yours as she inhaled your scent. "Oh, God, marry me Y/n. Make me the happiest woman alive, and I swear I'm changed. I'm ready to be with you again and finish our story. Accept and adore me once more. Because, lovely girl, I can't live without you. I can't live without my girl."

You lifted her chin and smiled, tears on the brim of your eyelids as you closed your lips together. When she eventually kissed you again, you felt her tongue caressing your bottom lip, almost falling to the ground. You drew back, your thumb caressing her cheek, and nodded joyfully.

"Yes, I will marry you, Natasha Romanoff."

You moved back in with Natasha in New York, and lived with her with the happiest decision of your life.

A HAPPY ENDING?! YAAAY

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x yn #natasha romanoff fic #natasha romanoff angst #a's oneshots!

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