#but it’s an interesting moment of intimacy in the familiar sense

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

Why is this giving “How’d we end up on the floor anyway?” at one o’clock in the morning lol

[faebled-stories]

Rumor Has it

Kinkvember Day 12: Size Queen

ITZY Lee Chaeryeong x Male reader

7k words

“I can’t believe I’m with ITZY’s Chaeryeong,” the man murmured, voice heavy with disbelief as his eyes roamed her flushed face. “You’re just so hot,” he added, the words tumbling out in a way that was meant to be flattering but only served to deepen the emptiness settling in her chest. His awe should have kindled something—pride, excitement, even a fleeting sense of satisfaction—but it barely registered.

Chaeryeong lay on the unfamiliar bed, her body half-sunken into the cushions as he moved rhythmically, each thrust marked by an urgency that lacked any real warmth. His hands skimmed over her skin with a mechanical precision, more rote than passionate, as if he were caught up in the idea of her rather than the moment they shared. His breath came in shallow, heated bursts against her collarbone, but rather than igniting any spark within her, it only deepened the creeping impatience that gnawed at her.

Detachment wrapped around her like a cold wave, numbing her senses until it felt as though she were watching herself from above, disconnected and distant. The cracked, faded ceiling above was far more familiar, more interesting than the man whose movements quickened, already nearing the climax of their encounter.

The scene was painfully predictable, an act she could have performed in her sleep. The pattern was always the same: meet a guy, revel in the spark of attraction, then watch that spark die the moment intimacy began. It wasn’t their lack of effort; many were charming, practiced, saying and doing all the right things. But beneath the flattery, the skilled movements, and the whispered praises, there was only the same worn-out script she had seen unfold too many times to count.

He caught her gaze, a confident smirk tugging at his lips. “I knew you’d be this wild,” he said, tracing a line down her side as if her silence was proof of his prowess. Chaeryeong’s lips curved into a slight, practiced smile—just enough to maintain the illusion. She knew what he was looking for: affirmation, a performance. It was easier to provide it than let him glimpse the blankness she felt inside.

“Tell me how good this feels," he whispered, voice thick with self-assured pride as he pushed forward. The words fell over her, hollow and ineffective, their intended power dissolving before it could ignite even a flicker of genuine response. She knew men like him all too well—the ones who craved validation, whose confidence was built on a steady diet of praise. They lived for these moments, hungry for reassurances that fed their ego as much as any touch or fleeting glance.

“Mm-hmm,” she murmured, carefully calibrating her voice to mimic desire. Inside, the chasm of disinterest yawned wider, swallowing any pretense of excitement. His movements grew more erratic and rushed, signaling the approach of the end. Each gasp, each strained promise of how he would make her feel, only deepened her impatience. Her eyes wandered to the wall, where the paint peeled in thin, curling strips.

“Fuck, you’re amazing,” he gasped, voice ragged as he tensed, releasing with a final, shuddering exhalation. The warmth splattered across her stomach, sudden and uncomfortable against her skin. He collapsed beside her, chest heaving, eyes closed with a self-satisfied smile curving his lips. The silence that followed pressed down on her, suffocating and familiar.

Chaeryeong stared at the ceiling, her expression unchanged, irritation simmering beneath her blank exterior. The mess was just another inconvenience, another reminder of how detached she felt from the entire experience. She sat up, reaching for the box of tissues on the bedside table, each swipe across her skin sharp with annoyance. The sticky remnants clung stubbornly, and she fought the urge to let out a sigh as she wiped it clean.

“That was amazing, you loved it, didn’t you?” he said, the lazy grin on his face matched only by the certainty in his voice. He looked up at her, eyes glinting with a kind of self-congratulation that made her jaw tighten.

“Yeah,” she said absently, the word slipping out devoid of meaning. She crumpled the tissue and tossed it into the trash with more force than necessary, already turning her attention to putting her clothes back on. The quicker she dressed, the sooner she could escape the weight of his gaze and the aftermath of a night that felt like just another checkbox ticked.

“You’re leaving?” His tone shifted, a hint of surprise breaking through his post-coital haze.

“Yeah, something came up,” she said, already buttoning her jeans and reaching for her jacket. She didn’t spare him a glance, the cool air from the hallway whispering in as she opened the door.

“Oh, well… okay. I guess I’ll see you around?” The words trailed after her, carrying the echo of confusion and a touch of disappointment.

“Maybe,” she muttered, stepping into the hallway. The door closed behind her, muffling his presence, and she let out a silent breath. The street outside stretched dark and quiet, the distant hum of traffic soothing in its consistency. With each step away, the encounter faded into the background, another scene in a cycle she was desperate to break.

-----

The next day, Chaeryeong walked into the studio, the weight of last night’s disconnection lingering around her like an unwelcome shadow. The steady thump of music in the background was a familiar comfort, its rhythmic beat grounding her as she stepped into the safe haven of dance practice. Here, she could shed the emptiness, rediscovering herself in the movements and the sweat.

As she moved down the hallway, she nearly bumped into you—a newer dancer known for your laid-back, shy demeanor that had a certain charm. The unexpected encounter made her pause, and she blinked up at you, adjusting the strap of her bag with an almost self-conscious touch.

“Oh, hey,” you said, eyes widening with surprise before a soft, genuine smile spread across your face. Your voice carried a hint of nervousness, but it was endearing, a reflection of your gentle nature.

“Hey,” she replied, her tone casual but warm. Chaeryeong had seen you before, exchanged a few words here and there, but your interactions were always routine—comfortable, familiar, but devoid of any real thrill or spark. Still, there was something grounding about your presence, an easy reliability in an industry full of fleeting faces and shallow exchanges.

“How’s it going?” you asked, shifting the strap of your own bag and glancing at her with a mix of shyness and openness.

“Good,” Chaeryeong answered with a brief look toward her makeup room. “Just getting ready for practice.”

“Same here,” you said with a small, awkward chuckle, nodding toward the practice room behind you. “Well, I’ll catch you later.”

“Yeah, see you,” she echoed, stepping past you as the moment seamlessly blended into the rest of her day.

Settling into her makeup chair, Chaeryeong projected an air of calm as the room buzzed around her with practiced chaos. Stylists moved efficiently, tugging at her hair and trimming stray ends while she scrolled through her phone, barely registering the cascade of notifications on the screen. Despite the morning’s encounter, her mind drifted back to the comforting rhythm of dance, where she could momentarily leave everything else behind.

A sudden murmur of gossip cut through the ambient chatter, the tone sharp enough to catch her attention.

“Did you hear about the new dancer?” one stylist whispered, drawing out her words as if relishing their weight.

Chaeryeong’s pulse quickened, but she kept her expression neutral, eyes glued to her phone as though she hadn’t heard.

“Oh yeah,” another stylist chimed in, her red lipstick as bold as the knowing smile she wore. “They say he’s... well, really well-endowed.” She stretched out the last words, savoring the ripple of reactions they prompted and darting her eyes around for signs of who was listening.

Heat crept up Chaeryeong’s neck, her cheeks warming despite her best attempt at indifference. In the mirror, she caught a glimpse of the stylists exchanging conspiratorial looks, their excitement palpable. She focused back on her phone, but the whispered words replayed in her mind, stubbornly refusing to fade.

“Where did you hear that?” a third stylist asked, her eyes wide as if this were the juiciest piece of news in weeks.

“Someone in the wardrobe department,” the second stylist replied, leaning in conspiratorially. “They saw him changing during a show. It was... unmistakable.”

Unmistakable. The word lodged itself in Chaeryeong’s mind. She scolded herself for the flicker of interest that sparked within her. It’s just gossip, she reminded herself. But the allure of whispered secrets had a way of sticking, no matter how much she tried to brush them off.

Chaeryeong attempted to shake off the chatter, but it clung to her thoughts, feeding her curiosity. She opened a recent group photo on her phone from a past shoot, eyes scanning your face, searching for... what, exactly? She didn’t know. The absurdity of it made her bite back a sigh.

She locked her screen and set her phone down, chastising herself. This is ridiculous, she thought, trying to push the rumor out of her mind. But it lingered at the edges, a persistent tickle she couldn’t quite dismiss.

A few days later, Chaeryeong found herself tucked into a quiet corner of a café, a rare escape from the whirlwind of studio life. The hum of coffee machines and the clinking of cups provided a soothing backdrop, calming her frayed nerves. She took a slow sip of her latte, savoring the warmth that radiated through her.

Her peace was short-lived. From a nearby table, lively voices cut through the mellow atmosphere. Natty and Julie, two bright junior members of Kiss of Life, were leaning into each other, their laughter infectiously carefree. Their energy filled the small café, vibrant and uncontainable.

Chaeryeong wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but their excitement was impossible to ignore.

“So... have you heard about the hot topic recently?” Natty’s eyes were wide, her voice tinged with thrill.

Julie’s grin widened as she lowered her voice. “Oh my God, yes! Everyone’s talking about it. You mean... the rumor?”

Chaeryeong’s fingers drummed lightly against her mug. She’d heard variations of this story a hundred times before—momentary bursts of intrigue that swirled through the industry, more smoke than fire. Yet, there was something magnetic about the way these whispers spread. No matter how hard she tried to tune out, the animated tones and shared glances drew her in.

“Yeah, you know... the rumor,” Natty said, barely suppressing her giggles.

Julie leaned back, crossing her arms with a playful smirk. “Honestly, I kind of want to see if it’s true.”

Natty’s eyes widened, shock mixed with amusement. “Wait, what? You’re actually thinking of... finding out?”

A daring glint crossed Julie’s face. “Why not? Everyone’s acting like he’s some kind of god. He’s always so nice and friendly. It wouldn’t be that hard to get close.”

Natty shook her head, half-amused, half-incredulous. “You’re wild! What if it’s not true? Or worse, what if it is?”

Julie’s eyes sparkled mischievously. “That’s what makes it fun! I’m not just going to ask him, obviously. But if the opportunity comes up... why not?”

Chaeryeong took another sip of her coffee, pretending to focus on the view outside. The boldness of youth was something she recognized from her own early days. They were fearless, driven by curiosity and the thrill of what-ifs. But she knew better now. Rumors had a way of spiraling, turning curiosity into consequences.

Yet, their conversation lingered in her thoughts, winding its way into the quiet spaces of her mind. Could there be any truth to it? It was absurd, but the question gnawed at her. She tried to brush it off as idle curiosity, but the story held on like a stubborn melody.

With a sigh, Chaeryeong set down her mug and stood, casting a glance back at Natty and Julie. They were still deep in conversation, laughter bubbling over as they reveled in their world of daring and speculation. Their faces were bright, full of life untouched by the cynicism that came with years in the industry.

As Chaeryeong stepped into the crisp autumn air, a bemused smile tugged at her lips. Maybe, in their own ways, everyone was searching for a little excitement, a hint of truth buried in the glitz and chaos. In the unpredictable realm of K-pop, who wouldn’t want to peek behind the curtain to find out what was real?

-----

On a quiet afternoon, Chaeryeong sprawled across the cool floor of the practice room, her body still humming from hours of intense rehearsal. The mingling scents of sweat and faint traces of perfume filled the air, and the ache in her muscles was a satisfying reminder of her hard work. For a brief moment, silence settled over the room, seeping into her exhaustion and offering a rare sense of peace.

The stillness was broken by the soft, deliberate clicks of Ryujin’s phone. Every few moments, Ryujin’s lips would curl into a smirk, her eyes flickering with amusement as she scrolled through whatever had caught her attention. Chaeryeong, trying to focus on stretching out her legs, found herself drawn to the subtle shifts in Ryujin’s expression.

“What’s got you giggling?” Chaeryeong asked, her tone casual but laced with curiosity. She lifted an arm over her head, feeling the pull in her shoulder, though the stretch couldn’t quite outmatch the intrigue sparked by Ryujin’s grin.

“Oh, just some juicy gossip,” Ryujin replied, snapping her phone shut and looking up with a mischievous glint. “You’ve heard the latest about him, haven’t you?”

Chaeryeong raised an eyebrow, her heart giving a small, involuntary skip. “I’ve heard bits and pieces. What’s new?”

Ryujin leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Well, rumor has it things have taken an… interesting turn.”

Chaeryeong found herself inching closer, her interest piqued. “Interesting how?”

“Remember that new staff member from production? Long hair, brunette, always with the clipboard?” Ryujin’s voice dropped even further as Chaeryeong nodded, recalling the confident, polished woman who’d been around the studio lately. “Apparently, she tried to hook up with him, but it didn’t go as planned.”

Chaeryeong’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

Ryujin savored the suspense, a smile playing on her lips. “She called it off halfway through. Said it was ‘too much’ for her.”

Chaeryeong’s mouth fell open in disbelief, a small laugh escaping before she could stop it. “You’re serious?”

Ryujin’s nod was triumphant. “Completely. She’s been avoiding him ever since.” The way Ryujin spoke made it clear she found the entire thing endlessly entertaining. “Can you imagine? She didn’t even finish!”

Chaeryeong leaned back, trying to process the bizarre twist. Until now, the rumors had been little more than idle chatter, a way to pass the time between rehearsals. But this? This felt different—specific, almost too wild to be entirely made up.

“That’s beyond crazy,” she muttered, shaking her head. “So she really just… walked away?”

Ryujin’s smile widened. “Too intense for her, apparently. Makes the rumor even juicier, right?”

Chaeryeong chuckled, fingers brushing her forehead as if to clear the strangeness from her thoughts. She’d always seen you as quiet and reserved, an enigma wrapped in an unassuming presence. You’d danced beside her, shared jokes and casual conversations, but now it felt like a veil of mystery had fallen over you, changing how she saw you.

Ryujin noticed the flicker of interest in Chaeryeong’s eyes and pounced on it. “Not curious at all?”

Chaeryeong scoffed, though a faint warmth crept up her neck. “It’s just gossip. Things like this always get exaggerated.”

Ryujin laughed knowingly. “Maybe. But admit it, there’s a part of you that wants to know. And who’s to say there isn’t some truth hidden in there?”

Chaeryeong rolled her eyes, trying to brush off Ryujin’s teasing, but a reluctant smile played on her lips. “Okay, maybe I’m a little curious,” she conceded.

“Exactly,” Ryujin said, leaning back with a victorious nod. “And who knows? You’ve worked with him more than anyone. If anyone can figure out what’s real, it’s you.”

Chaeryeong’s expression turned wary. “Are you suggesting I go looking for answers?”

“Not exactly,” Ryujin replied with a wink. “But it wouldn’t hurt to keep your eyes open. You never know what you might find.”

As Chaeryeong stood up, stretching her arms high above her head, the tension in her muscles eased, but a new kind of tension lingered in her mind. “I’m not getting caught up in this,” she said, trying to sound resolute.

Ryujin’s smirk deepened. “Sure. Just don’t blame me when you can’t stop wondering.”

Chaeryeong’s gaze drifted across the empty room. Though she said nothing, her thoughts inevitably circled back to you—the unexpected center of a rumor that refused to fade. Despite herself, she couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to you than she had realized.

-----

In the days that followed, her resolve to ignore the gossip unraveled bit by bit. Every break in rehearsal, she’d catch snippets of whispered conversations, soft voices punctuated by the thrill of the latest gossip. The room seemed charged, the air thick with secrets woven together in webs of speculation, and the more she tried to tune it out, the more the curiosity gnawed at her.

It was a curious thing, the way her perception of you began to shift. In her mind, the once-awkward grin and boyish shyness you’d worn so easily took on a new, shadowed dimension. She’d always seen you as the soft-spoken one, the one who was quietly supportive, almost unassuming. But now, even a passing glance was tinged with the echo of those whispered stories, and each encounter left her feeling as if she’d glimpsed only a fraction of who you really were.

The questions pulsed in her thoughts, gaining a stubborn grip, no matter how often she told herself it was only idle gossip. What if the quiet you she’d known was only part of the story? What if there was a depth, a mystery lurking beneath the surface, a piece of you yet to be uncovered?

With every passing day, her curiosity transformed from a soft, passing thought into an itch that lingered, whispering at the back of her mind. And though she told herself to brush it aside, Chaeryeong couldn’t help but wonder. In a world built on appearances and carefully constructed images, maybe there was something real beneath all the stories. And maybe—just maybe—she’d find herself wanting to know who you truly were.

Then, one afternoon, it seemed as though fortune had finally aligned in her favor. Practice had stretched longer than usual, the group winding down and slowly dispersing in pairs or small clusters, chatter buzzing through the air. Chaeryeong, catching her breath near the edge of the practice room, happened to look up just as you turned the corner into the hallway, your figure briefly silhouetted against the light streaming in from the corridor.

Your gaze found hers, and in that brief, quiet exchange, you offered a shy, slightly lopsided smile—a familiar look that made her pulse skip, the awkward charm in it disarming and strangely magnetic. In that moment, something sparked in Chaeryeong’s chest, a flicker of boldness mixed with curiosity. Today, she insisted, I’ll find out more.

Whether it was the way you moved, calm and at ease despite the group’s lively presence, or the weight of the unanswered questions lingering in her mind, she couldn’t ignore the pull anymore. The hallway felt smaller, the walls pressing closer as she crossed the distance between you, her footsteps light but deliberate.

“Hey!” she called out, her tone casual but carrying a note of unmistakable purpose. You paused, a slight furrow of confusion forming on your brow as you turned. “Can you help me with something?” she asked, her smile warm but with a hint of mischief that made your eyes narrow in curiosity.

“Oh, uh… sure. What do you need?” you replied, polite and almost cautious, your tone laced with that familiar modesty she had come to expect from you.

“There’s something broken in my dressing room,” she replied, her tone smooth and casual as she gestured down the hallway. Ignoring the flicker of uncertainty that crossed your face, she took a step forward, inviting you to follow her. You hesitated, but soon enough, you fell into step beside her, the two of you making your way through the quiet corridor toward her dressing room.

Her heart pounded as you neared the door, the quiet intensity of her decision hitting her as she led you inside, closing the door behind. For a moment, you looked around, a faint confusion in your expression as you glanced around the small space.

“So… what exactly is broken?” you asked, your brow lifting as you scanned the room, clearly searching for any sign of damage.

A smile crept onto her face, playful and assured. “There’s nothing broken,” she said softly, watching as the realization dawned in your expression. “I just wanted to get you alone.”

Your eyes widened, surprise and hesitation crossing your face as you struggled to find a response. “Alone? I… I don’t really…”

She reached out, placing a hand on your arm in a gentle but firm gesture, her gaze steady. “You’ve probably heard the rumors about you,” she said, her voice quiet, laced with both curiosity and determination.

Your face flushed, a deep crimson that betrayed your nervousness, and you quickly averted your gaze. “I-I don’t really pay attention to that stuff,” you stammered, shifting uncomfortably.

“Well, I do,” she replied, her voice lowering to a near-whisper, her breath warm and close. “And I’m curious.”

You blinked, taken aback, struggling to process her words. “Curious? About… about what?” Your voice was barely a murmur, your gaze flicking nervously between her face and the door.

“About whether the rumors are true,” she continued, taking a step closer, her eyes searching yours with an intensity that made the air between you both feel electric. She could feel your hesitation, but she wasn’t about to back down—not now.

Your breath hitched, and you took a small step back, the uncertainty clear in your expression. “I… I don’t think this is a good idea, Chaeryeong.”

But she only smiled, undeterred by the protest, taking the soft reluctance as a sign that she was closer to the truth than she’d expected. “I think it’s a great idea,” she said softly, her gaze steady as she leaned in, her hand tracing a slow line down your arm.

Before you could voice another word of protest, she closed the space between you, capturing your lips with her own in a kiss that was unhurried but unmistakably confident. You froze, the surprise evident as her warmth pressed against you, but after a moment, your hands found her waist, responding with an uncertainty that melted into something softer, bolder.

When she pulled back, your breath was shallow, confusion and conflict swirling in your gaze as you looked at her, trying to find the words. “Chaeryeong, I… I don’t want you to think—”

She lifted a finger to your lips, silencing you with a soft shush. “You don’t have to explain anything. I want this.”

Your expression betrayed your uncertainty, but beneath it, there was a flicker of something else—a tension, an attraction you seemed to be struggling to contain. “But… what if this isn’t—”

“Don’t overthink it,” she murmured, her voice soft as her hand found yours, guiding it gently. Her fingers brushed against your skin, warm and light, and you felt the world around you blur, the small room shrinking to just the two of you. “Just show me.”

“Show you?” you repeated, the words barely escaping your lips as you tried to steady yourself, her gaze holding yours with a quiet intensity that felt almost like a challenge.

Her smirk widened, her hand trailing downward, brushing against you with a deliberate slowness that sent a surge of heat through the quiet room. “Show me what I’ve been hearing about.”

A heavy silence fell between you, your gaze flicking toward the door, conflicted but drawn in by the certainty in her eyes. Something shifted in you then—whether it was the thrill of the moment, the pull of her confidence, or the simple desire to finally let go of your restraint, you couldn’t tell. You nodded slowly, your hands moving to the buttons of your shirt, your breath shallow as her eyes followed every motion.

As the last button fell open, Chaeryeong’s gaze grew intense, her breath catching as she took you in. For a moment, the noise and tension of the studio outside felt like a distant memory, her curiosity and excitement heightening with each second. It’s real, she thought, the truth of all the whispers and gossip settling into place, striking her with a thrill she hadn’t fully expected.

"Wow the rumors are true," she whispered, stepping closer. Her hands gently guided you to sit on the plush couch. "I've been looking for someone to be able to fulfill my needs and you are formidable" she admitted, her voice lowering to a sultry whisper.

Sitting down, your heart pounded as Chaeryeong knelt before you. There was a moment of stillness, her eyes locked with yours, before she leaned in. Her breath was warm against your member as she began, her touch sending waves of electricity through your body.

She started slowly, her lips parting to take you in, her movements deliberate and gentle. You could feel her tongue, soft and exploratory, circling the tip before she took more of you into her mouth. The warmth, the wetness, it was overwhelming.

As Chaeryeong continued, she seemed to grow more empowered with each inch she took. Her eyes, when they met yours, were filled with a proud determination. She was proving something to herself as much as she was pleasuring you.

The air was thick with anticipation and the subtle scent of her exertion. She was focused, each movement more deliberate and bold than the last. Her determination was palpable, and you could see it in the way she bit her bottom lip as she concentrated.

Her hands gripped your thighs tightly, using your body for support as she pushed herself to take more of you. With each movement, she adjusted her technique, learning as she went, adapting to the situation with a skill that only came from experience and a deep understanding of her craft.

You could feel the tension building in the room as she took more of you, sinking deeper with each thrust. Her breathing became heavier, and you could hear the soft sounds of her exertion, mingling with the sound of her lips against your skin. Her hair brushed against your thighs as she moved, a soft and sensual contrast to the firmness of her grip.

Finally, she reached the base, her lips pressed against you as she took all of you in. It was a moment of pure intimacy and connection, a testament to her skill and dedication. And as she held you there, you couldn't help but feel a deep sense of admiration and respect for the woman before you.

The feeling of your entire body being enveloped by warmth and tightness was overwhelming. You could feel the muscles of their throat contracting and relaxing around you, creating an indescribable level of pleasure that left you trembling. The sensation of being so completely encased was both thrilling and intimidating, and you couldn't help but let out a gasp of disbelief.

"No one has ever taken me so well before," you managed to say, your voice thick with emotion and desire. Your words were muffled, but still understandable, as you were still buried deep within them. You could hear the surprise and satisfaction in your own voice, and it only served to heighten your arousal.

The experience was so intense and all-consuming that you found it hard to think or speak clearly. You were lost in a sea of pleasure, your mind and body fully focused on the sensations coursing through you. You couldn't believe the level of arousal from being completely inside Chaeryeong's throat. 

She paused for a brief moment, pulling back slowly with a satisfied, almost victorious smile gracing her lips. Her eyes slightly teary but gleamed with a sense of pride and accomplishment, as if she had just uncovered a hidden treasure. In a way, she had discovered exactly how to please you in a manner that was unique to her.

She plunged back down, enveloping your shaft once again with her warm, wet mouth. Her tongue danced and swirled around your member, exploring every inch with a curiosity that was both exhilarating and arousing. The rhythm she employed was methodical and precise, building up a steady momentum that left you breathless and wanting more.

Chaeryeong's technique was unlike anything you had ever experienced before. She moved with a confidence and fluidity that seemed almost otherworldly, as if she had been practicing this art for centuries. Every movement was deliberate and calculated, designed to elicit the maximum amount of pleasure from your body.

As she continued to work her magic, you could feel the tension building way too quick, like a coiled spring ready to burst. your muscles tensed and released, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you struggled to maintain control. But it was no use she had you under her spell, and there was nothing you could do but surrender to the inevitable.

Without warning, the peak arrived embarrassingly quickly, your body tensed up as you surrendered to the intense climax. A wave of pleasure washed over you from head to toe. Crying out her name, your fingers tangled in her hair, pushing her deeper as you rode out the high. Chaeryeong, who was completely dedicated to the moment, took you in as deeply as she could, her jaw stretched wide open to its maximum capacity. However, even with her best efforts, some of your release managed to escape past her lips, leaving a glistening trail that made its way down her chin. The sight of it was incredibly arousing, and it was clear that Chaeryeong had given her all to the moment, creating an unforgettable experience that would be etched in your memory for a long time.

She sat back on her heels, a look of satisfaction and slight surprise on her face as swallowed as much of your release as possible, savoring the taste as she wiped the corner of her mouth. Her chest heaved, not just from the physical exertion, but from the thrill of her achievement.

"Fuck, I cant wait to have you in my guts," she said, her voice a mix of pride and a playful challenge.

You could only nod, still reeling from the intensity, your mind buzzing with the intimacy of the moment.

As she straddled you with a grace that belied her iron will, the air around you thickened with anticipation. "I told you, I'm not like the others," she murmured, her voice a sultry blend of promise and challenge that seemed to resonate with the very walls of the room. "I'm going to take it all, every inch of you."

Chaeryeong reached down and positioned you member along her toned tummy. the outline of your shaft reaching past her belly button and the sight only seemed to heighten her arousal. She lifted herself up and placed your tip right at her entrance. As the first surge of her entry made contact, a sharp and searing connection coursed through both of you, a potent mixture of challenge and exhilaration. Ugh, finally the words echoed in her mind, a silent testament to the culmination of her relentless pursuit.

Her body's response to your formidable presence was visceral, yielding and stretching in a way that was almost overwhelming. It was a threshold moment, where the line between pleasure and pain blurred into a singular, exquisite sensation. The initial sting of the stretch was rapidly eclipsed by a rush of empowerment, a triumphant defiance that scoffed at any hint of intimidation.

As each second ticked by, she experienced a growing sense of command and authority over the situation. She welcomed the intensity, the complexity, and the overwhelming power of the experience, using it to bolster her confidence and firm her resolve.

The moment was profound for both of you, a shared experience of vulnerability and intimacy that neither had encountered before. As you moved together in a rhythm as old as time, there was a sense of exploration, a journey into the uncharted territories of each other's bodies and souls.

For you, the sensation was overwhelmingly new. The initial penetration was a revelation, the heat of her inner walls enveloped you, the tightness and the pulsating warmth bonded you to her in a way words could scarcely capture. Every inch was cradled by her as you became one. It was as if the very essence of your being was being drawn out, channeled through the physical connection that tethered you to her.

While for Chaeryeong, the experience was equally transformative. She felt a stretching, a yielding of her deepest self to accommodate your presence. The depths of her womb were stirred as if from a long slumber. It was as though ancient, primal instincts were roused, acknowledging the potential of creation that lay within the act.

Her body responded with a knowing of its own, a subtle undulation that seemed to draw you in further, inviting you to explore the innermost sanctum of her being. With each movement, she felt more alive, more in tune with the ebbs and flows of her own desire, mirroring the dance of life itself.

Her breaths grew deeper, her grasp tightened, and her spirit soared. She reveled in the realization that she was not merely a passive participant in this dance of passion—she was the masterful conductor, leading them both in this symphony of sensation and connection.

With every sinuous sway of her hips, Chaeryeong's dominance unfurled like a nocturnal bloom, each movement a testament to her unyielding control. She danced a dance of power that commanded the space around her, her body moving with a precision and intent that was nothing short of mesmerizing. Her voice, rich and velvety, wove a sultry symphony that resonated with the raw essence of confidence and command, her words hanging in the air like a seductive incantation.

"Ugh, fuck you're huge," she murmured, her breaths short and quick from the exertion of her rhythmic movements. "You'll never feel this good with anyone else." Her words, laced with a potent blend of pleasure and cunning seduction, curled into the air like tendrils of smoke, captivating the senses and ensnaring the mind. In that moment, Chaeryeong was the embodiment of dominance, her presence an indomitable force that rewrote the rules of engagement, leaving an indelible mark on the soul.

Your gaze was locked onto the vision before you—Chaeryeong's face, a canvas of pure pleasure, her body undulating with a rhythm that resonated deep within your being. A moan escaped your lips, a testament to the desire that was building like a crescendo within you.

She sensed your struggle, the battle to maintain control as you teetered on the brink of something monumental. "Look at you," she breathed, her voice a sultry whisper that seemed to caress your soul. Her fingers traced a delicate path along your jawline, a touch that was both tender and tantalizing. "I'm making you feel so good, aren't I?"

Her words were a silken web, ensnaring you in a trap of yearning from which there was no escape. "You're going to lose yourself in me, aren't you?" she continued, a hint of satisfaction threading through her tone. "After this, you won't want anyone else. You’ll be mine."

Your grip tightened around her waist, a futile attempt to anchor yourself amidst the tumultuous sea of sensations. "I... I can't hold back much longer, Chaeryeong," you confessed, the urgency in your voice betraying your helplessness.

Her smirk was a promise of the inevitable, her movements an expertly choreographed invitation to let go. "Oh, why would you hold back? I want to feel every last bit of you inside me," she teased, her own excitement evident in the catch of her breath.

The air between you crackled with electricity, each touch, each movement fueling the fire that raged within. The rhythm of your union grew ever more insistent, a siren's call to the depths of abandon. "I won’t be able to stop," you managed to utter, a final warning as your eyes locked with hers, the last vestiges of your resolve dissolving under the weight of your need for her.

Chaeryeong's response was a whisper that scorched your ear and sent a fresh cascade of desire down your spine. "That’s exactly what I want. Show me how much you need me," she commanded, her voice a low thrum that resonated with the primal beat of your hearts.

With a renewed fervor, she moved against you, her hips a maelstrom of motion that drove you both inexorably toward the precipice. The world outside this room ceased to exist; only the two of you remained, entwined and moving as one. The couch beneath you protested faintly, its legs scraping against the floor—a mere whisper compared to the symphony of your mingled breaths and the roar of passion that enveloped you.

"Cum for me," she urged, her voice a blend of triumph and anticipation. "Show me you’re mine."

With a final, surrendering thrust, you reached the zenith of pleasure, your voice breaking in a raw, primal cry as ecstasy consumed you. "I'm cumming," you declared, your body a conduit for the overwhelming surge of release that coursed through every nerve.

The room was thick with the scent of passion, a musky perfume that clung to the air and enveloped the two entwined figures. Chaeryeong's breaths came in short, sharp gasps. Her body, slick with the exertion of their shared dance, moved with an urgency that matched the pounding of her heart, a drumbeat that seemed to echo the rhythm of their lovemaking.

As she surrendered to the waves of her climax, she found herself immersed in an ocean of bliss, her body quivering beneath the relentless surge of rapture. "Yes! I'm cumming! Fill me up" she screamed, her cries a declaration of victory.

Each pump of your seed overflowing within her propelled her to new heights, a sensation that had once been merely a fantastical dream, now vividly experienced. Her body convulsed and succumbed to the intensity, her cries intermingling with the potent atmosphere of the room, culminating in an intoxicating sensory symphony. At long last, she had discovered the pinnacle of her sexual quest, the ultimate fulfillment that had eluded her until this moment of unbridled surrender.

Her fingers, like talons, clawed at your chest, not out of aggression but from a primal need to mark you as hers. She sought to erase the boundaries between you, to blur the lines until there was no her, no you, but a singular entity caught in the throes of passion. It was as if she believed that with enough force, enough desire, she could fuse your very essences together, creating a bond that transcended the physical realm.

As the warmth of the moment settled around you both, Chaeryeong’s fingers moved with slow, intentional strokes along your collarbone, lingering as if marking her place. She traced small circles over your skin, her touch both gentle and claiming, a wordless reminder that she held a special kind of control here. Her gaze lingered on you, unwavering and filled with a spark of something deeper, a hint of possessive pride in the effect she had on you.

She leaned closer, her lips brushing against your ear, her voice low and deliberate. “You know,” she murmured, each word sinking in with quiet intensity, “no one else could ever take you like I do.” Her fingers drifted to your jawline, holding you there as she spoke, her eyes narrowing slightly, studying you in a way that felt intimate, almost territorial. “You’re mine now,” she added softly, her voice laced with a blend of warmth and certainty, as if she had no doubt of the truth in her words.

There was a satisfaction in her expression, a quiet, possessive pride that seemed to fill the space between you. Her hand found yours, and her grip tightened, an unspoken promise in the way her fingers intertwined with yours. “When you want this again”—she gave your hand a gentle squeeze—“you’ll know exactly where to find me.”

Her eyes never left yours, her gaze intense and steady as if binding you to her in an unbreakable vow. She leaned forward, her lips pressing against yours in a kiss that was slow and lingering, a deliberate, possessive mark she left there like a signature, something to remember her by.

When she finally pulled away, the warmth of her core around your shaft vanished, replaced by the cold, empty air that only made you crave her all the more. As she rose, a trace of your seed slipped down from her glistening folds. The sight stirred something primal within you—a longing that went beyond desire, a need to be inside her again, to feel that consuming warmth at all times.

Her hand lingered on your chest as she looked down at you, her gaze satisfied yet somehow gentle, as if savoring the effect she’d left on you. Her fingers traced along your jaw, her touch warm and lingering, as if marking you with the memory of her presence.

With an effortless grace, she rose to her feet and cast one last, lingering look back at you. Her gaze held a quiet dominance, an unspoken assurance that the spark between you was entirely hers to command. She dressed herself swiftly, leaving the lingering trace of your essence inside her, a mark of the connection you’d just shared. And as she slipped away, her touch, her warmth, and the faint, visceral reminder of your bond wrapped around you like an invisible tether—one you knew you’d carry long after she was gone.

[lowkeyren]

—where hope begins with you!

in which : dan heng was never one to look forward to things. that is, until you entered his life and taught him how to hope once more.

pairing : dan heng x gn!reader

wc 1.3k, so much fluff it's sickening, bro is not nonchalant™, you killed his tough guy personality here, art by @/SP0I0ppp on x. reblogs n comments r much appreciated!!! 

Dan Heng had never been one to anticipate things. Life had taught him not to —his past was filled with moments where people came and went, and life had a way of reminding him how fleeting those things could be. Though it wasn’t that he didn’t care about the future, it was just simpler to deal with what was in front of him. 

So, he stopped expecting. Learning to take each day as it came, to live by the moment, anchored only by the need to keep moving forward, away from his past. 

That was, until you came along.

The steady hum of the train is a sound familiar to Dan Heng, but lately, his mind has been occupied with thoughts that even the constant, low thrum cannot easily calm.

It’s strange how easily you came into his life, like a gentle breeze slipping through the cracks of a fortress. Even with his walls firmly in place, you never pushed his boundaries; instead, you moved around them with a gentle finesse that made him feel surprisingly at ease.

Your influence was undeniable, it awakened a sense of curiosity within him, a yearning to experience the world in ways he had long forgotten. And before he knew it, he found himself looking forward to things he never thought he would.

He looks forward to the way you say his name.

“Dan Heng—” It’s a soft murmur that rolls off your tongue like honey, lingering in the air and wrapping around him in a warm embrace. 

“Dan Heng?” It’s the look in your eyes when those syllables escape your lips, a spark that sets his heart racing in a way he can’t ignore. The slight tilt of your head makes you look impossibly tender, paired with your soft gaze —it only peels away his defenses without you ever trying.

“Dan Heng!” It’s that sound, that singular way you say his name, that fills the quiet corners of his heart he didn’t even know were waiting for you.  “Hello…?” He blinks, eyes darting back to you as you wave your hands in front of his face.

He coughs awkwardly into his fist, a feeble attempt to mask his embarrassment as he becomes acutely aware of how lost in thought he had been. A slight flush creeps onto his cheeks —oh god, he had been staring at you… without even realising it.

“Ahem, sorry about that,” he stammers, rubbing the back of his neck as he avoids your gaze. “I got a bit... distracted.” His heart races as he glances back at you, “What were you saying?”

You chuckle softly at his flustered reaction. “I was just wondering if you’d like to join me for lunch,” you say, your eyes sparkling with amusement. “I thought we could finally check out that new place March has been raving about.”

“Of course.” His reply comes out too quickly, a rush of eagerness that catches even him off guard. “Great!” your excitement evident as corners of your mouth lift into a grin,  “I can’t wait, Dan Heng! Let’s go t—”

Oh… if only you knew; there’s a part of him that comes alive every time he hears his name on your lips.

He looks forward to the quiet moments you share in his room.

You sit across from Dan Heng, leaning against the bookshelf, with the gentle glow of the overhead lights casting soft shadows across your face. He’s attuned to every subtle change in your expression, every little crease of your brow when the narrative of the book in your hands takes an unexpected turn.

(Your expression is telling a story he’s far more interested in.)

Neither of you speaks; content to simply bask in the comfort of each other's presence.The air is tranquil, punctuated only by the soft rustle of pages turning and the occasional sigh of contemplation. 

There's an undeniable intimacy in the shared silence, where nothing needs to be said for everything to be understood. Dan Heng also thinks you’re quite… mesmerising in moments like these. Perhaps there's something about the way your eyes skim the page, the way you bite your lip in anticipation, the way you turn to him with a gentle smile—

Ah… he’s staring again, and this time you’ve caught him in the act.

You catch his gaze and raise an eyebrow; your playful smirk deepens, a silent challenge lingering in the air as you maintain eye contact —and the corners of his mouth twitch as if he’s holding back a smile too.

The book resting in your lap is momentarily forgotten, the words on the page fading into oblivion. His eyes linger on you, studying every nuance of your expression, every flicker of light that dances in your gaze.

Even in silence, you manage to hold his attention effortlessly, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. 

And for now, that’s enough to fill the space with something profoundly meaningful.

He looks forward to the tomorrows you share.

“I had fun today, thank you, Dan Heng.” 

“Me too,” he stumbles out. A slight pause follows before his gaze shifts to avoid yours. “I mean, I had fun too.”

For a brief moment, he wonders if you can hear how fast his heart is beating, how it stumbles, quickens —each beat louder than the last. The pulse of it seems to echo in the space between you, an unspoken language you’ve become quite fluent in.

Just then, you lean forward slightly, placing your elbow on the table as you rest your chin on your hand. “You know,” you say, your tone laced with a teasing lilt, “If you keep getting all flustered like this, I might just think you’re really into me.”

His breath catches in his throat, and his cheeks flare with a heat that rivals the sun.

Your laughter dances in the air, and it sends a jolt of exhilaration through him. “Relax! I’m just ki—” 

“No.”

His pulse quickens, and he can’t help but fidget in his seat. “You’re right. I’m into you.” His chest tightens as your eyes meet; for once, you’re the one blushing, a rosy hue creeping up your cheeks as surprise flickers across your face. 

You blink, momentarily taken aback. “You… mean that?”

He swallows hard, “I do, I really like you, [name].”

You’re barely trying to contain the smile spreading across your lips. “I’m glad you said it,” you continue, your voice softening. “Because I really like you too, Dan Heng.”

His heart soars, and a breath he didn’t realise he was holding escapes his lips in a rush. “How can I not when you’re so cute?” You reach out to pinch his cheeks, and surprisingly, he lets you have your way. 

“I’m not cute,” he mumbles, but his voice lacks conviction, and the way you’re looking at him makes it impossible to stay composed.

You chuckle softly, as you let go of his face. “Anyway, it’s getting late,” you continue, glancing at the clock nearby. “Let’s talk more about this tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

He tells himself he's looking forward to tomorrow, but maybe, it's really just the promise in your words he's waiting for.

“See you tomorrow, then!” You call out as you make your way to the door. He watches you leave, the gentle sound of your footsteps echoing softly before fading into the distance. Once the door clicks shut behind you, Dan Heng glances at the clock again, counting the minutes until he can see you once more.

With a soft sigh, he leans back in his chair, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “See you tomorrow,” he whispers to the empty room.

And for the first time in ages, he allows himself to hope again.

chronic yapper disease

MASTERLIST.

[connorsui]

unspoken affection

Sukuna x reader

Synopsis: In a rare moment of vulnerability, Sukuna allows you to explore the markings on his body

Genre/Warnings: Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Soft moments. Implied sexual tension, mentions of Sukuna's intimidating nature, light teasing.

Note: I want to color his tats

The moonlight barely filters through the room, casting long shadows across Sukuna's muscular form. He lays still, eyes closed, a faint smirk on his lips as your fingers glide over the dark, jagged markings on his skin, tracing each one with an intimacy you've grown familiar with. His breaths are slow and deliberate, though you know he’s awake. He always is. Despite the quiet arrogance that lingers in his aura, the way he pretends to sleep is his subtle way of allowing these tender moments between you to happen.

Your fingers drift along the length of his back, over his broad shoulders, and down the well-defined muscles of his hips, testing your limits and feeling the heat of his body beneath your touch. The marks that cover him pulse with faint energy, a reminder of his formidable power. But here, in this room, under your hand, he is just Sukuna—your Sukuna, though he would never admit it.

His lips quirk slightly when he feels you hesitate, your fingertips hovering near the lowest of the marks, the ones that dip beneath the edge of the sheets. He doesn’t need to open his eyes to feel the heat rising in your cheeks, knowing all too well how easily he can fluster you with nothing but a smug, well-timed comment.

"Still plenty more marks below my hips, if you're interested," his voice, rich and deep, rumbles through the silence, laced with that insufferable arrogance. You swallow, heat rushing to your face, but you press on, unwilling to let him win so easily this time.

Instead of biting back, you lean in closer, your lips brushing the markings along his chest, moving with a deliberate slowness that draws a low, approving hum from him. He shifts, rolling onto his back, four arms spreading lazily across the bed as if inviting you to explore further. His crimson eyes finally open, four of them watching you intently, the gleam of amusement and something deeper lurking behind them.

"You’re quite the bold one tonight," he mutters, the corners of his mouth curving upward as you press a soft kiss to the center of his forehead, right between the small crown of black markings.

But this time, you don’t let his teasing get to you. Instead, you allow your lips to move lower, down the planes of his shoulders and along the corded muscles of his arms, planting gentle kisses onto the skin he pretends is invulnerable. You know better. You've seen it in the way he never pulls away, how he subtly leans into your touch, like he's soaking up the affection he refuses to ask for.

A low chuckle escapes him, but his taunts have softened, replaced by the steady, rhythmic hum of his breathing, as if the sensation of your lips against his skin is enough to quiet even the King of Curses.

You smile against his skin, feeling a strange sense of accomplishment wash over you. For all his bluster and arrogance, beneath the weight of his ancient power and the cruel smirk that never seems to fade, there’s a man who lets you in. One who lies still beneath your touch, his monstrous form revealing small, fleeting moments of vulnerability that are yours alone to witness.

“Are you just going to sit there, or do you plan to finish?” His voice cuts through the silence again, though it lacks its usual bite.

You chuckle softly, pressing a kiss to the dark, jagged mark on his collarbone. “I didn’t know you were so impatient, Sukuna.”

He growls, but there’s no real anger behind it. "You're pushing your luck, woman."

His four hands find their way to your waist, tugging you closer until you're practically draped over him, face pressed to his chest. It's a rare gesture from him, one he covers with arrogance, but you've come to learn the truth behind his seemingly petulant acts. He may not admit it outright, but this—your warmth, your closeness—is what he craves more than anything.

"You could stay like this all day," you tease, your voice muffled against his chest, your fingers tracing patterns along the marks that wind over his skin.

A low hum vibrates through his body, and he shifts, one of his arms snaking up to cradle the back of your head. "If you're so eager to remain in bed, I won't stop you."

You snicker, but it dies down into a soft sigh as you nestle further into him. His warmth surrounds you, the strange comfort of his presence pulling you deeper into the cocoon you've created. He may not say it, but you know—this, too, is how he shows he cares. Even if he would never dare utter the words.

As your hand rests over one of his, you press a soft kiss to his cheek, surprising him into a rare moment of silence. His gaze locks on yours, and for a heartbeat, neither of you speaks.

Sukuna’s eyes flicker with something unspoken, a fleeting glimpse of the man beneath the curse, and though his smirk quickly returns, the warmth in his eyes remains.

"Careful," he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous, "I might get used to this."

You smile, shifting just enough to press your forehead against his. "Maybe that’s the point.”

I want to show this man what this throat can do

[just-aake]

Everlasting Devotion - Part X

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Sequel of Boundless Devotion Series. MedievalAU. With her coronation over, Natasha is now the queen of the Romanov Kingdom. However, the position comes with challenges from both old and new enemies as Natasha tries to maintain the peace while also navigating her relationship with you.

Masterlist Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

Warnings: light angst, fluff, sexual tension

Words: 4865

Natasha turns Yelena’s mask over in her hands, her fingers brushing the fabric absently as Yelena leads the way down a series of winding, dimly lit pathways. 

Her gaze drifts to the strands of dark black hair peeking out from under Yelena’s hood, and a question that had been nagging at her finally slips out.

“What’s the point of hiding your hair color if you’re already wearing a mask?” Natasha asks, her tone tinged with exasperation.

Yelena scoffs, coming to a halt and crossing her arms over her chest. 

“You and Mom always say, ‘Never be too careful,’ and now you’re lecturing me when I am?” she shoots back, raising a challenging eyebrow.

Natasha rolls her eyes at her sister’s typical snark. 

“You wouldn’t need to be careful if you hadn’t come here in the first place.”

Before the tension can escalate further, you step up beside Yelena, gently taking a few strands of her hair in your hand. 

Your touch and curious gaze defuse the moment with ease.

“Is this charcoal you used to stain your hair?” you ask, examining the texture with genuine interest. “That’s pretty creative, Yelena.” 

Yelena’s expression shifts instantly, her face lighting up with pride.

“Thanks,” she says enthusiastically.

Natasha glances between the two of you, her lips pressing into a subtle pout at the fact that you had sided with her sister. 

What bothered her more was the shift in your demeanor with her. 

With Steve’s presence in the group, you had been keeping a polite distance, the casual intimacy you’d shared with her in the tavern now carefully concealed.

Yelena points her finger on the mask in Natasha’s hand, pulling her back to the present.

“With this and my hair changed, no one knows it’s me. I can do whatever I want,” Yelena explains smugly before continuing down the path. 

Kate nods in agreement, adding, “We’ve never run into any problems because of our identities.” 

Steve crosses his arms, his tone firm as he speaks. 

“But you have run into problems.”

Kate chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of her neck. 

“Well…yeah, technically,” she admits before hurrying to catch up with Yelena, their respective canines trailing after them.

Natasha sighs, her gaze returning to the mask in her hand. Her fingers trace its edges thoughtfully as the group moves forward. 

Her eyes drift to your hand swinging by your side, and for a moment, she considers reaching for it. 

As if sensing her gaze, you glance back at her and offer a small smile. With a subtle tilt of your head, you encourage her to keep moving before clasping your hands together behind your back, widening the distance between you again.

Natasha exhales quietly in disappointment before returning to the path ahead. 

After a moment, Steve, walking beside her, nudges her shoulder to catch her attention.

“What?” she asks, glancing at him.

Steve points upward, and Natasha follows his gaze to spot a familiar falcon silently trailing the group. 

“You still haven’t told her, have you?” Steve whispers accusingly.

Natasha turns to him with a raised brow. 

“Are you really trying to lecture me right now?” she replies incredulously. “Without Redwing, I wouldn’t have even known Y/n was in there. Things could’ve gone a lot worse.” 

Steve furrows his brows at her words. 

“What exactly happened in there?”

Natasha’s lips press into a thin line as she remembers the glowing stone, the haunting memory it had pulled from her mind, and how close you had come to harm. 

“Those strange weapons Rumlow had might be more dangerous than we thought,” she says quietly. 

Her gaze flicks back to the falcon and then to you, walking just ahead and wonders aloud.

“How come Redwing didn’t tell you or Sam about Y/n being in that place?”

Steve hums in thought. 

“Redwing’s good at spotting danger but also knows when to prioritize. He must’ve seen that friend of hers as someone capable of protecting her.”

Natasha’s thoughts shift to the stranger who had stepped in to intervene during the attack. The glove he’d used to block the cloaked figure had been eerily similar to the attacker’s. 

However, based on your attitude towards him, besides simple annoyance, you don’t seem suspicious or wary of the person when the two of you interacted earlier.

“What do you make of him?” she asks.

Steve shrugs but doesn’t answer right away. His eyes narrowed in contemplation as though he was piecing together a puzzle. 

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Nothing special, but…I feel like I’ve seen him before. Or at least, I think he looks like someone I knew long ago.”

He shakes his head slightly as if to brush away the thought and throws the question back at her. 

“What about you?”

Natasha sighs, her gaze lingering on the back of your figure. 

“If I didn’t already know she’d refuse, I would’ve had Clint return from his trip to fix that gate instead.” 

Steve chuckles and pats her shoulder encouragingly. 

“That’s progress. Respecting your ex’s decision is a good step in fixing things between you.”

Natasha rolls her eyes, groaning softly at the change in subject. 

“Is that what you tell yourself?” she mutters.

“What?” Steve asks, frowning in confusion.

Natasha raises a brow at him before explaining.

“You’re giving Bucky space, sure, but how long will you wait to make a move or say something?” Natasha smirks, a teasing glint in her eyes, as she nudges him in a warning. “You keep meddling in my love life, Steve. If you don’t back off, I will start meddling in yours.” 

Natasha huffs playfully, shaking her head. “Sometimes I think you’re worse than my mom. At least her meddling was discreet.”

Steve groans, rubbing the back of his neck in exasperation, but he lets the subject drop as Yelena stops ahead of them.

“Here we are,” Yelena announces, gesturing grandly to the weathered, run-down building before them. 

The creaking gate swings open with a loud groan as she motions for the group to follow. Above the doorway, a broken and faded sign barely hinted at its original purpose: Orphanage.

Yelena pauses at the door, turning back to the group and glancing at her sister. 

“You should cover up,” she says, her tone laced with pointed practicality. “Don’t want the others figuring out who I am because of you.”

“Others?” Natasha mutters under her breath, casting a questioning look your way.

You simply shrug, pulling your hood lower over your face. Natasha sighs and follows suit, adjusting her hood as they enter.

The scene that greets her is unexpected. 

The inside of the building, though still bearing the marks of neglect and decay, was lively. 

Children of varying ages laugh and play, their energy filling the space. 

The repairs are evident—patches on the walls, sturdier floorboards replacing rotting ones—but it is clear there is still a long way to go.

As Yelena leads the group down a hallway, some children pause in their activities to wave at her and Kate, their curious gazes lingering briefly on the newcomers before they’re distracted by Lucky and Fanny, who prance over to join them in their games. 

As she looked around, Natasha took in every detail, from the faint chalk drawings on the walls to the repaired furniture scattered throughout. Natasha was not aware that there was an orphanage in such condition in the kingdom. 

“How did you find this place?” Natasha wonders out loud.

“Kate and I accidentally stumbled in here one day when we were running away from some trouble,” Yelena explains.

“Trouble?” Steve questions disapprovingly, but Yelena pointedly ignores him as Kate continues the explanation. 

“The people here let us stay until it was safe enough to leave, so we’ve been trying to help them out too.”

Yelena’s hands run along the old walls as she leads them down the hall.

“I tried getting some money from the Treasury to fix this place up more,” Yelena explains before rolling her eyes. “But Ross won’t let me unless I fill out a mountain of documents for ‘approval’ first.”

“So you started playing cards to earn extra money,” you guess, your tone curious but free of judgment.

“Exactly,” Yelena confirms with a satisfied grin.

As they pass another room, Natasha pauses. 

Inside, a group of older children is practicing sparring techniques with some weapons. 

Some are clearly teaching others, though their movements are not exactly perfect either. 

Yelena peers over her shoulder and adds proudly. 

“I’ve also been teaching some of them how to fight for self-defense.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, turning back to Yelena. 

“So this is where all your weapons went.” 

Yelena hesitates before nodding in response. Her attention drifts to the dagger at her side—the one you had gifted Natasha. 

“You probably want this back, don’t you?”

Natasha glances at you, seeking your input. You give her a slight shrug, leaving the decision to her. She contemplates momentarily before removing the one at her side and offering it to Yelena in exchange, “Here, take this one instead.”

She’d rather keep your gift—a small piece of you—close to her side for right now, especially since you are still keeping your distance.

“Alright,” Yelena nods in understanding, clearly satisfied that she is not given any further reprimand or lecture than that.

Inside the training room, one of the older children spots them and waves the group over.

“We need one more for a sparring match. Any volunteers?”

Without missing a beat, Yelena grabs Kate’s arm and thrust it into the air. 

“She does,” she says, grinning as Kate sputters in surprise. 

“Wait, no, I don’t!” Kate protests as she is nudged forward toward the sparring circle.

“Consider this payback for earlier,” Yelena quips, ignoring Kate’s protests before turning to Steve. “What about you, Cap? It’s been a while since I beat you.”

Steve chuckles, crossing his arms. “You beat me once, and I was distracted.” 

“Excuses,” Yelena teases. “Come on, one round.”

Steve sighs in amusement and nods. 

“Fine, let’s go.”

Natasha lingers by the wall, her arms crossed as she observes the space. 

Unconsciously, her lips press slightly into a thin line, a subtle tension pulling at her features. Her eyes moved from the sparring children to the repaired spaces and finally to Yelena, who was confidently instructing some of the older kids who had come up to her for guidance about a move. 

Her attention is pulled away when there is a gentle tug on her arm. She turns to see you beside her, a finger to your lips as you silently ask her to follow with a tilt of your head. 

Natasha glances at the others to ensure they are preoccupied before slipping away with you, her hand slipping into yours. 

You lead her down a quiet hallway, your footsteps soft against the worn floorboards. 

Finding a secluded room, you gently pull her inside and shut the door with a soft click. Natasha turns to face you, her eyes questioning, but before she can say anything, you step closer and cup her cheek, tilting her face toward yours.

Your lips brush hers in a soft kiss, and Natasha’s eyes flutter closed. When she instinctively leans in to deepen it, you pull back, leaving her slightly breathless.

“What was that for?” she murmurs, her voice low.

You smile faintly, brushing your thumb gently against her bottom lip. 

“You’ve been pouting since we got here.”

Natasha scoffs lightly, shaking her head. 

“I wasn’t pouting.”

You raise your brow in clear disbelief. Your other hand raises to rest above her heart, your touch comforting.

“It’s okay to admit you’re impressed. Yelena’s working on something incredible here.”

Natasha’s lips unconsciously twitch into a slight pout at your praise, and you chuckle softly before capturing her lips in another brief, tender kiss. When you pull back, Natasha’s eyes open, meeting yours with a mix of vulnerability and curiosity.

“You’re doing a great job as queen too, Natasha,” you say with a knowing expression, your tone gentle yet firm. “Your progress isn’t as visible as hers, but it’s just as important.”

Natasha’s shoulders relax visibly, her lips parting slightly as she releases a shaky breath. As always, you had a way of finding the words she didn’t realize she needed to hear. 

“Thank you,” she whispers, her voice sincere. Her hand rests over yours at her heart, a small, faintly bashful smile gracing her features.

The moment hangs between you, warm and tender, but when your thumb grazes the edge of her lips again, there is a sudden spark in the air, an undercurrent of tension shifting into something else.  

The vulnerability in Natasha’s expression is quickly replaced with a glint of something more heated—a flicker of unspoken longing that makes her inhale just a touch sharper. 

Catching her slight reaction, a mischievous expression flashes across your face. 

Without hesitation, you lean in, closing the distance between you. The warmth of your breath caresses her skin, but instead of meeting her lips, your touch takes a different path. 

You ghost along the corner of her mouth, featherlight and teasingly brief, before drifting down to her jawline.

Natasha’s breath hitches ever so slightly beneath your touch. 

Still, you continue your deliberate trail, letting your lips barely graze the sensitive spot just below her ear. She exhales sharply, her eyes fluttering closed as the sensation sweeps over her.

Meanwhile, your fingers trace a slow, deliberate path down her arm. The lightness of your touch is maddening, igniting a fire that seems to burn with every inch you cover.

Then, with calculated timing, you pull back just enough to meet her gaze. The faint, infuriating curve of your lips signals your intent, the challenge clear in your eyes.

“What’s wrong, Natasha?” you ask, your voice low and smooth, your expression all mock innocence. “You look a little flustered.”

Natasha exhales a steadying breath, realization dawning on her as she feels her cheek warmed from your actions. Her eyes narrow, but a smirk tugging at her lips betrays her amusement.

“You’re being a tease,” she accuses, her voice dropping to a husky pitch.

You tilt your head innocently. “How so?”

Her gaze sharpens, and the corner of her lips quirks in response. She raises one hand to rest on the door behind you, leaning in as she steps closer. Her other hand lifts, her fingers catching your chin lightly and holding you still. 

“Because you know we can’t stay here long,” she murmurs, her voice carrying a dangerous edge of both warning and desire. “Not before the others start wondering where we are.”

“Hmm,” you hum, leaning in slightly, just close enough for your lips to brush hers without committing to the kiss. “And?”

“And,” Natasha continues, her voice soft yet laced with unmistakable longing, “you’re tempting me to forget about this charade of ours and let everyone know I’m still in love with you.”

Her confession sends a spark of heat through the moment, but you keep your composure. Your smile turns wicked as your hands rest lightly on her hips, drawing her just a breath closer. 

“Are you admitting you can’t keep up?” you murmur innocently, your tone dripping with playful innuendo. 

Natasha rolls her eyes, but the flush creeping up her cheeks betrays her. She doesn’t pull away, her proximity daring you to push further. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Y/n,” she warns, her voice barely above a whisper. “Remember, this was your idea. I’d gladly end the act to have you.”

The sheer honesty of her words makes your heart skip, and a slight flush appears on your cheeks, but you refuse to lose after successfully affecting her to this extent.

You lean in again, your lips brushing hers so lightly it’s maddening. 

You see the exact moment Natasha’s composure fractures. 

Her eyes darken, a storm of longing and frustration swirling within them, and she steps forward, erasing the remaining sliver of space between your bodies. One of her legs slips between yours, pinning you firmly against the doorframe. 

Her lips hover near yours, their tantalizing proximity sending shivers down your spine. Her breath, warm and unsteady, mingles with yours, and for a heartbeat, the tension threatens to snap, and you almost consider surrendering to the pull of her presence.

But just as her lips are about to claim yours, you smirk, tilting your head back ever so slightly, your hands slipping from her hip to press against the door behind you. 

The deliberate motion creates just enough distance to leave her chasing the moment. 

“We should probably head back,” you say, your tone light and nonchalant, breaking the tension as though it didn’t threaten to consume you both.

Natasha’s frustrated exhale and groan only deepen your grin.

“You’re such a tease,” she mutters, her voice low and rough, tinged with both irritation and undeniable want. 

“And you love it,” you counter, stepping just far enough to the side to give her space but not enough to cool the fire simmering between you.

Her lips curve into a subtle pout, her expression caught somewhere between indignation and desire. 

The sight draws a quiet chuckle from you, and before she can recover, you lean in and capture her bottom lip in a slow, deliberate kiss. The contact is soft and tender, carrying an unspoken apology for pushing her to this edge—though you both know you’re anything but sorry.

Before she can do anything further, you pull back just as quickly, the ghost of your touch lingering.

Natasha is left in the wake of the moment, her breath shallow and her gaze unfocused, as if still processing the sensation of your lips against hers. 

Your hand lingers on the door, pushing it open slightly as you glance over your shoulder with a playful tilt of your head. 

“Have you regained your composure yet, my queen?”

The use of her title catches Natasha off guard, her lips parting slightly in surprise. She doesn’t respond immediately, taking a steadying breath instead. You don’t miss the way her fingers twitch at her side as though fighting the urge to pull you back in.

Finally, she shakes her head, a soft chuckle escaping her as she steps forward to catch the doorframe, pushing it open further. 

“Tease,” she mutters under her breath, the word carrying more warmth than accusation.

Her eyes follow you as you slip out into the hallway, a satisfied grin on your lips. Natasha lingers for just a moment, steadying herself before following with a fond huff of laughter.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

When Natasha returns to the room, she spots you now seated beside Kate, who’s holding her head in mock agony, clearly nursing the aftermath of her sparring match. You’re comforting her with a soothing pat on the shoulder. 

At her arrival, your gaze lifts, and Natasha catches that faint teasing smile across your lips again. 

Before she can react, though, your eyes dart meaningfully to the other side of the room, gesturing subtly with a tilt of your head.

Following your cue, Natasha’s eyes land on Yelena, who stands near the window, arms crossed and staring out into the dimming horizon. 

With a soft sigh, Natasha walks over to her sister. 

As she approaches, Yelena speaks up without turning.

“I know what you’re going to say—‘Yelena, this is irresponsible. You’re in over your head,’” she mocks, her tone a blend of her own sass and their mother’s disapproving voice.

“But this,” Yelena continues, gesturing vaguely around her, “this was something I decided to do myself. It’s not an obligation or some royal duty. It’s not an order from you or Mom. It was my choice. So…yeah…” Her words trail off, hesitant, as she finally turns to Natasha, searching her sister’s face for judgment.

Natasha raises an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. 

“Are you done?”

Yelena narrows her eyes suspiciously. 

“Are you going to tell on me and make me stop coming here?” 

Natasha sighs, crossing her arms and leaning casually against the wall beside her sister, mirroring her stance. 

“No, I’m not going to say anything.”

Yelena blinks, taken aback, before jabbing Natasha’s arm lightly, her skepticism evident. 

“You’re in a surprisingly lax mood. What? Did Y/n make you feel that good when the two of you sneaked away earlier? Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

Natasha swats her sister’s hand away, rolling her eyes in exasperation.

“That is none of your business,” Natasha retorts firmly, her voice carrying a hint of embarrassment. Wanting to avoid further prying, she quickly redirects the conversation. 

“I’m just saying you’re old enough to make your own decisions about what you want to do in your life.” 

She gestures to the room around them, to the orphanage and its lively energy. 

“And whenever you feel ready to share this with others, I’ll be there to support you.”

Yelena tilts her head, her confusion evident. “Support me?”

Natasha lets out a long-suffering sigh as though summoning patience. 

“What I’m trying to say is…I’m proud of you, Yelena.”

For a moment, Yelena simply stares at her, processing the rare sentiment. Then, a small grin creeps onto her lips.

“You’ve gotten soft, sis.”

“Shut up,” Natasha scoffs, flicking Yelena on the forehead in reprimand. 

The younger princess laughs but doesn’t pull away. Instead, she surprises Natasha by wrapping her arms around her in a tight hug, trapping Natasha’s arms awkwardly at her sides.

“Thanks, Nat,” Yelena says, her voice softer now, more genuine.

Natasha lets the embrace linger, her lips curving into a small smile. After a beat, she manages to free one arm, playfully pushing Yelena off her.

“Alright, that’s enough of that,” she teases.

Yelena chuckles, her grin widening as she glances back out the window. Her humor dims slightly, replaced by curiosity as she motions toward the gate.

“Speaking of shady characters,” she says, squinting through the broken shutters, “there’s one that’s been lingering by the gate for a while now.”

Natasha frowns and steps closer to peer out the window beside her sister.

Yelena tilts her head thoughtfully. “He looks familiar, though. Doesn’t he?”

Natasha’s eyes lock on the figure lingering outside the gate, and recognition flashes across her face. Without hesitation, she calls for Steve as she makes her way outside, with the rest of you following curiously.

The moment she steps outside, the figure, who was looking up at something in the sky, turns to her, his expression a mix of surprise and confusion as he offers a casual wave at the group.

“Didn’t expect to see you all come out of there,” Sam remarks, his tone light but his eyes flickering nervously toward Steve and Natasha. 

Kate steps forward, tilting her head curiously at the knight. 

“Who were you expecting, Sam?” she asks in confusion, understandably since the identities of her and Yelena were unknown by the people here while the rest of you had just learned about this place. 

Sam freezes at the question, his posture stiffening. His eyes dart to Natasha, whose narrowed gaze silently warns him to tread carefully in his answer, and then over to you, your expression curious as you step up beside her.

“Uh…” Sam stammers, clearly caught off guard. 

As if to make matters worse, Redwing chooses that moment to swoop down and land on his shoulder. The bird chirps, its eyes flicking between Natasha and you.

“Is that your falcon?” you suddenly ask, stepping closer to observe the bird, who leans toward you before fluttering over to your shoulder. It lands gently, its head tilting in what seems like fond recognition.

Sam blinks in surprise at the bird’s action but nods. “Yeah, his name’s Redwing.” 

Humming in acknowledgment, you reach up tentatively, your hand hovering near the bird’s head. Redwing tilts its head, brushing against your fingers as you pet it lightly. 

At the sight, Fanny and Lucky begin prancing excitedly around you, tails wagging as they jump and bark at the bird. 

You chuckle softly, the corner of your lips lifting in amusement as you remember the earlier moment outside the tavern between them.

“I think we’ve met a couple of times already,” you comment, your tone light but thoughtful at all the times you’ve spotted the bird around you.

Then, your hand pauses mid-pet. 

Your smile fades, and your brows knit together as a sudden realization hits you. Slowly, your eyes narrow, and you turn to Natasha with a pointed, accusing stare.

Standing off to the side, Yelena winces audibly for her sister while Kate awkwardly averts her gazes, clearly guessing the situation too. Steve heaves a quiet sigh, his expression one of resigned sympathy for Natasha. Sam, meanwhile, rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, avoiding your piercing gaze. 

“Natasha,” you say slowly, your tone calm but unmistakably sharp. “Who exactly would he be expecting to see here?”

Natasha winces visibly, her lips pressing into a thin line. She knows you’ve already pieced it together. 

“Does it help if I admit this arrangement was made before we talked about me being overprotective?” she offers, her tone almost hopeful.

Your deadpan look and exasperated huff quickly dash any optimism she might have had. 

Shaking your head, you turn your attention to Steve and Sam, who both straighten at your sharp gaze. Your hand gestures toward Redwing, who chirps innocently on your shoulder, tilting its head as if it had no part in the situation.

“Whatever this was, it ends now,” you say firmly, your tone leaving no room for argument.

Steve raises his hands in mock surrender, nodding quickly. “Understood.”

Sam steps forward, raising a hand as if to defend himself. 

“If it’s any consolation, Lady Y/n,” he begins, his voice steady but sincere, “I wasn’t directly assigned to follow you. I was actually tracking Lord Sitwell when I spotted Redwing.”

Natasha’s head snaps toward him, her narrowed eyes now alight with suspicion. 

“What is Sitwell doing in a place like this?”

Sam’s expression darkens slightly, his tone growing more serious. 

“From what I observed, it seems like he’s running. The lord looked panicked all morning before rushing here. I lost him a few minutes ago nearby.”

Natasha’s gaze sharpens as her mind races. “Running from what?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Since Redwing was nearby, I was hoping to have him take a look around for me,” Sam explains, gesturing toward the falcon, which flutters back over to him. 

Steve nods grimly before giving her a serious look. “Something has Sitwell scared enough to come to a place like this. That alone is worth investigating.”

Natasha nods in agreement. 

“We need to find out what,” she states, motioning to Steve and Sam to prepare to leave. 

Before she can take another step, your voice cuts through the moment. 

“Great, let’s go.”

Natasha freezes mid-step and turns to you, surprise flickering across her face at your self-invitation to the search. Her eyes note your stance and expression—arms crossed, brow raised slightly, and a look of determination that she knows all too well. 

It’s that same look you wear when you’ve made up your mind, daring her to challenge you. 

Natasha glances at Steve and Sam, silently seeking backup, but both men conveniently avert their gazes, one studying the sky while the other examines the dirt. Clearly, they aren’t getting involved in the apparent tension between the supposed exes.

From a few feet away, Yelena leans closer to Kate and whispers with barely concealed amusement, “This ought to be good.”

Natasha throws her sister a quick glare before turning her attention back to you with a soft sigh. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay here with Yelena and Kate until we return?” she asks, her voice hopeful but already knowing the answer. 

Your eyes narrow slightly as you step closer, your stance unyielding. 

“I’m sure,” you respond plainly before poking her in warning. “Anything else you want to ask, Natasha?”

Natasha opens her mouth to respond, but the resolve in your expression makes her hesitate. You’re challenging her in a way only you can, your words striking at the core of her protective instincts. She exhales slowly, rubbing her temple as she tries to reason with herself. 

After a moment, she sighs in defeat, her shoulders slumping slightly. 

“Fine,” Natasha concedes, though her tone carries the weight of reluctant acceptance. “But you stay close to me the entire time.”

“Deal,” you reply with a small smile, knowing you’ve won this round.

Yelena’s barely concealed whisper emerges again. “Totally called it.”

Steve steps forward before Natasha can react to her sister’s teasing. 

“I’ll stay back with Yelena and Kate, just in case Sitwell circles around in this area.”

Natasha nods in agreement.

When she turns back to you, you brush past her pointedly and head for the gate, taking the lead. She sighs silently before following you.

Sam nods a goodbye at Steve before shaking his head lightly at the sight near the gate, watching as Natasha trails and calls after you in an apparent attempt to appease you.

A small sigh escapes from him as he remarks sarcastically, “Well, this is not going to be awkward at all.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

a/n: Thank you for reading!

If you asked to be tagged and I missed it, please let me know again.

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[blakeswritingimagines]

Puck Bunny

Word Count: 2.9k

It started innocently enough – a chance meeting at a local coffee shop that led to a blossoming friendship between Nico Hischier and you. You, someone with a carefree spirit and a radiant smile, had caught Nico's eye from the moment you walked in. He couldn't help but be drawn to your vibrant energy and warm personality. As you struck up a conversation over steaming mugs of coffee, Nico found himself feeling at ease in your presence. The conversations flowed effortlessly, and you discovered shared interests and passions, creating an instant connection. As the days turned into weeks, your friendship deepened, with each conversation revealing another layer of Nico's character. He was kind and generous, with a hidden sense of humor that only appeared when he was completely at ease. But it was his eyes – a deep, soulful blue that held a mesmerizing intensity – that truly captivated you.

You and Nico sat on the couch in his cozy living room, the warm glow of the lamps casting a soft light over the room. The air was charged with a comfortable familiarity as you discussed various topics, the conversation flowing easily from one subject to another. It was during a lull in the conversation that the subject of kinks came up. Nico tilted his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours with a curious and intrigued expression. You shifted a bit, leaning back into the comfort of the couch, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. You'd always been open with each other, and this conversation was no exception. "Well, I'll confess something right now," you said, a hint of mischievousness in your voice. Nico listened intently, his interest piqued by the playful tone in Blake's voice. He leaned forward slightly, his brown eyes locked onto theirs, eager to hear what confession would be shared. "Go on then, don't leave me in suspense," he encouraged, a gentle teasing lilt to his words. The dim lighting highlighted the strong lines of his face, his rugged features softened by the warmth of the moment you were sharing together. You chuckled softly, enjoying the way his gaze never wavered from yours. "I have a pretty adventurous side," you began, your voice dropping to a sultry murmur. You leaned a little closer, a hint of playful daring in your eyes. "And there's something I've been wanting to try."

Nico's eyebrows arched upwards, his curiosity growing with every word. He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering for a moment against your skin. "Oh? And what might that be?" he asked, his deep voice low and husky, filled with intrigue. His thumb traced a slow circle on your jawline, sending a shiver down your spine as he waited for you to reveal more about this secret desire. The intimate atmosphere between them grew thicker, the air practically crackling with anticipation. You leaned into his touch, your breath catching in your throat at the sensation of his hand against your skin. His gaze held you captive, and it took a moment for you to speak again. "It's something a bit… kinky," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. You could see the flash of curiosity in his eyes, the heat within them increasing with the thrill of the conversation. Nico's eyes darkened with fascination, his grip on your chin tightening just enough to keep you focused on him. "Kinky, huh?" he repeated, his voice a low rumble. "I like the sound of that." He leaned in closer, his warm breath fanning across your cheek as he spoke. "Tell me more. What exactly did you have in mind?" His words dripped with sensual promise, and you could sense the excitement building within him at the prospect of exploring these new depths of intimacy together.

You shivered, the combination of his grip on your chin and the heat in his voice sending a wave of desire through you. Your eyes locked with his, a mixture of longing and anticipation in your expression. "I was thinking… something a bit more intense," you answered, your voice slightly breathless. You bit your lip, your mind filling with the possibilities of what you wanted to explore with him. "Like something a little more like…. sensory deprivation." Nico's eyes widened, a spark of intrigue igniting within their depths. "Sensory deprivation, hmm?" he mused, his brow furrowing in thought for a moment before a sly grin spread across his face. "Now that's an interesting choice." He released your chin, his hands sliding down to rest on your thighs, applying gentle pressure as if urging you to lean closer. "I think we can arrange something… suitable for that kind of exploration." His voice was low and smooth, dripping with seductive intent. "But first, let's get a bit more comfortable, shall we?" With that, he stood up, offering you a hand to help you up from the couch. As you rose, he guided you towards the bedroom, the promise of forbidden delights hanging heavy in the air between you. You took his hand, standing up from the couch and letting him lead you to the bedroom, the anticipation building with each step. The room was softly lit, the warm glow casting flickering shadows on the walls. As you entered, the sound of the door closing behind you seemed to seal off the rest of the world, creating a private sanctuary for your exploration. With a gentle firmness, he led you to the edge of the bed, his hands holding your hips as he guided you down onto the mattress.

Once you were settled on the bed, Nico stepped back, his eyes roaming appreciatively over your form as he slowly pulled his shirt off, revealing the chiseled planes of his chest beneath. The dim light accentuated the contours of his muscular physique, making your mouth go dry with desire. He tossed the shirt aside, then reached for the hem of his pants, pulling them down to join his shirt on the floor. Now clad only in his boxers, he climbed onto the bed beside you, his body heat radiating against your skin as he settled in close. His hand found its way to your thigh, fingertips tracing idle patterns along your leg as he gazed at you with a heated intensity. "So, tell me more about this sensory deprivation idea of yours," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. "What exactly do you want to experience?" You shivered again, your breathing becoming a little shallower as you felt the heat of his body against yours. The feel of his fingers tracing patterns on your leg sent tingles through your skin, and the huskiness of his voice in your ear caused a flutter in your stomach. "I… I want to feel completely lost in the moment," you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. "I want to feel the intensity of every touch, every sensation, but without the distractions of sight or sound. Just… raw, unfiltered sensations."

Nico nodded, a look of understanding and eagerness in his eyes. "I think I know just how to make that happen," he said, his voice low and reassuring. He moved to sit up, reaching for a black bag that had been hidden under the bed. Unzipping it, he pulled out a set of blindfolds, a few scarves, and some soft restraints. "These should do the trick," he explained, laying the items out on the bed beside you. He picked up a blindfold, holding it out to you. "Are you ready to take the plunge and fully immerse yourself in sensation?" His eyes gleamed with excitement and a hint of mischief, clearly thrilled by the prospect of guiding you through this intimate, sensory journey. You hesitated for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest at the thought of surrendering control so completely. But as you looked into Nico's eyes, you saw nothing but patience, understanding, and a deep desire to please you. Taking a deep breath, you reached out and accepted the blindfold from him. "Yes," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the thrumming of your pulse. "Let's do this." Nico's smile was warm and encouraging as he tied the blindfold securely around your head, the fabric soft against your skin. "Trust me," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "I'll guide you every step of the way." He helped you settle back onto the pillows, his hands gently exploring your body, mapping out the contours of your form. Then, with deliberate slowness, he began to undress you, his fingers trailing over your bare skin as each article of clothing fell away. When you were naked he tenderly took your wrists and tied them to the headboard, he paused, his palms resting lightly on your hips. "You're beautiful like this," he breathed, his voice thick with desire. Slowly, he lowered himself onto you, his weight pressing you into the mattress as he claimed your mouth in a searing kiss.

Your senses were heightened, the absence of visual stimuli amplifying every other sensation. The feeling of Nico's lips on yours was electric, sending sparks racing through your veins. His tongue danced with yours, the taste of him flooding your senses. You moaned into the kiss, your body arching instinctively to press closer to his. The restraints on your wrists added a thrilling element of vulnerability, leaving you open and receptive to his touch. As he broke the kiss, you panted softly, your skin tingling all over. "Please…" you whimpered, craving more of his attention, more of those electrifying sensations. Nico's hands roamed your body, caressing every inch of exposed skin with reverence. He traced the curves of your breasts, teasing the hardened nipples between his fingers until you gasped and writhed beneath him. Lower still, his touch dipped between your thighs, finding your slick folds already swollen with need. "You're so responsive," he praised, his voice a low growl of approval. He rubbed slow circles over your clit, watching your reactions intently. Each moan, each tremor, fueled his own desire, stoking the flames of passion burning within him. "I want to hear you lose control," he commanded, his tone rough with lust. "Let go and give yourself over to the pleasure." With that, he plunged two fingers deep inside you, curling them to stroke that sensitive spot within as his thumb continued its relentless stimulation of your clit.

You cried out, your back arching off the bed as Nico's skilled fingers worked magic within you. The combined sensations of his touch and the lack of sight intensified every nerve ending, turning your body into a live wire of pleasure. Your hips bucked against his hand, seeking more of that delicious friction. "Nico!" you gasped, your voice ragged with need. "Don't stop, please don't stop." Your inner walls clenched around his fingers, drawing him deeper as your climax built rapidly, threatening to sweep you away. The coil of tension in your core wound tighter and tighter, your entire being focused on the point where he touched you most intimately. Nico's fingers pumped in and out of you with increasing urgency, matching the frantic rhythm of your heartbeat. He could feel your orgasm approaching, the way your pussy gripped his digits, the desperation in your pleas. "That's it, let go," he urged, his voice a husky whisper. "Come for me, baby." As if triggered by his words, your climax crashed over you, waves of ecstasy washing through your body. Your vision blurred behind the blindfold, your mind consumed by the sheer intensity of the pleasure coursing through your veins. You screamed his name, your voice echoing in the quiet room as your release shook you to your core. Through it all, Nico held you close, his fingers gentling their pace as you rode out the aftershocks.

Your body went limp, drained of energy as the last tremors of your orgasm subsided. Nico's fingers remained buried inside you, providing a soothing warmth even as they slowed to a gentle massage. You panted heavily, your chest rising and falling with each labored breath. The blindfold allowed you to focus solely on the sensations, the lingering echoes of pleasure resonating through your oversensitive flesh. After a moment, Nico carefully withdrew his fingers, bringing them to your lips. "Taste yourself," he instructed, his voice soft and tender. You parted your lips obediently, allowing him to slide his fingers past your teeth. The flavor of your arousal mixed with the musk of sex, a heady combination that left you wanting more. "Delicious," you managed to murmur, your voice still thick with post-orgasmic haze. Nico's eyes sparkled with satisfaction as he watched you savor the taste of your own essence. He loved seeing you so lost in the moment, so open and receptive to his touch. "You're exquisite," he murmured, leaning in to capture your lips in a gentle, sensual kiss. His tongue swept across the seam of your mouth, tasting himself on your lips before delving deeper to explore the warm cavern of your mouth. As he kissed you, his hands roamed your body once more, stroking and caressing, rekindling the embers of your desire. "I'm not done with you yet," he whispered against your lips, his voice a promise of more to come. With that, he shifted position, positioning himself between your thighs. The tip of his cock nudged against your entrance, seeking permission to enter the haven of your heat.

Your body responded instinctively, your hips tilting upward to welcome Nico's hardness. The anticipation of being filled by him again sent a shiver down your spine. "Please," you breathed, your hands straining against the restraints as you ached to touch him. "I need you inside me." Nico's entry was slow and deliberate, his thick length sliding into you inch by glorious inch. You felt every contour, every vein as he sheathed himself to the hilt. A low moan escaped you, your back bowing off the bed as he stretched and filled you perfectly. Once he was fully embedded, Nico paused, giving you a moment to adjust to the incredible sensation of being so thoroughly possessed. Then, with a subtle thrust, he began to move, setting a leisurely pace designed to draw out your pleasure. Nico set a steady, unhurried rhythm, savoring the tight, velvety grip of your pussy around his shaft. Each slow withdrawal and gentle push sent ripples of pleasure through your joined bodies. He leaned down to capture your mouth in another deep, passionate kiss, his tongue twining with yours as he lost himself in the sweetness of your lips. One hand slid up your side to cup your breast, thumbing your nipple as he continued to piston in and out of you. The other hand found purchase on your hip, guiding your movements in tandem with his. He could feel your inner walls fluttering around him, signaling your building arousal. "You take me so well," he groaned against your lips, his voice strained with the effort of holding back his own release. "I want to make you come again, feel you squeeze my cock as you do."

Your moans grew louder, more urgent, as Nico's words and actions stoked the fire within you once more. The slow, deliberate thrusts of his hips drove you wild, each penetration hitting that sweet spot deep inside that made stars explode behind your eyelids. Your nails dug into the sheets as you fought the restraints, desperate to grasp at him, to pull him deeper, harder. "Yes, just like that," you gasped, your voice high and breathless. "Fuck me, Nico, make me come again." Your climax built swiftly, propelled by the intense pleasure of being so thoroughly taken. Just when you thought you couldn't hold back any longer, Nico's fingers found your clit, rubbing firm circles that sent you hurtling over the edge. Your pussy clamped down on his cock as you came, wave after wave of ecstasy crashing through you. The rhythmic squeezing of your pussy around his cock was Nico's undoing. With a guttural groan, he thrust deep one final time, spilling his hot seed deep inside you. His hips jerked erratically as he rode out the waves of his own intense climax, prolonging your shared pleasure. Finally, spent and sated, he collapsed onto the bed beside you, careful not to crush you with his weight. He reached up to untie the blindfold, gently easing it from your eyes. As your vision cleared, you saw him gazing at you with a mixture of adoration and satisfaction as he worked on untying your bound wrists. "That was incredible," he murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "You're amazing."

You basked in the afterglow, your body still humming with residual pleasure. As Nico freed you from the restraints, you flexed your wrists, then turned to gaze up at him. His expression was tender, filled with affection and admiration. You reached up to stroke his cheek, marveling at the closeness you shared. "You're pretty amazing yourself," you replied softly, a smile playing on your lips. "I've never felt anything like that before." Nico's eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled back, his fingers intertwining with yours. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be than right here with you," he said sincerely. "Let's just enjoy this moment, okay?" He pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a warm embrace. You nestled into his chest, feeling safe, cherished, and utterly content in his arms.

[mistressofstars]

A Lecture on Desire - Part IV

Pairing: Kathryn Hahn x Reader

Summary: Part 4. A lecture on The Price of Salt is supposed to be all about Therese and Carol, but when Professor Hahn locks eyes with you, lines blur. Slow-Burn. Non-magical AU

Word count: 1.5k

Part IV

Kathryn unlocks the office door with a smooth twist of her wrist and pushes it open. You follow, heart pounding. “So,” Kathryn starts, her voice light, almost disarmingly casual “What’s your curriculum like this semester? Packed, I imagine?” She tilts her head, the innocent tone in her voice a stark contrast to the intensity of her presence.

You nod, trying to match her casual tone. “Yeah, it’s… pretty full. A lot of reading.”

She hums thoughtfully, tilting her head as if the conversation were completely ordinary. “And you’re keeping up just fine, I hope?“, her voice almost sing-song.

“Yes,” you reply, though your voice is tighter than before, the tension beneath her surface calm coiling tighter around you.

Kathryn glances toward the door. “Good. I wouldn’t want you overwhelmed.” She smiles but when she moves to the door and shuts it with a soft click, the shift is instant.

The air feels heavier, thicker, and the room seems smaller somehow. When she turns back around her smile is replaced with that smirk, eyes dark.

Her smooth steps close the space between you, deliberate and steady, until she’s behind you.

Her breath skims the back of your neck, making your skin prickle. The silence stretches, heavy, until she places her hands at your shoulders. The lightest pressure, barely there, as if testing the effect. Her fingertips trail down your arms, her touch barely grazing you. She slides the coat off your shoulders, the fabric dragging against your skin but she doesn’t lay a finger on you.

Kathryn gestures to the chair opposite her desk, the simple command hanging in the air. “Take a seat.”

Her office is meticulously arranged, the walls are lined with dark wood bookshelves, heavy with textbooks, old classics, and some contemporary titles—everything in its place. A massive oak desk sits in front of you with papers neatly stacked to one side, and a sleek black pen rests beside an open notebook.

You glance at a framed photo on the wall, catching sight of Kathryn beside a woman with dark hair, heart shaped face and big brown eyes. There’s something familiar about her. The image feels professional, a posed moment, but there’s an undeniable closeness between them. Kathryn stands a little too close, her posture casual but confident, while the other woman’s body language matches hers, a subtle intimacy in the way they share the frame.

Kathryn notices and clears her throat, your attention immediately snaps back to her. She sat down in the chair opposite from you, the massive oak desk separating you.

Kathryn picks up a fountain pen and taps it against the edge of her desk, her eyes steady on you. “I’ve been thinking about this,” she says, her voice low, like she’s carefully choosing each word. “You’ve impressed me with your contributions in class. So, I’d like to make an offer.”

You blink, trying to make sense of what she’s implying. “An offer?”

She sits back slightly in her chair, eyes glinting with a subtle, knowing look. “How would you feel about becoming my personal assistant? You’d be managing the usual, the appointments, the messages—but there are certain… tasks, more personal in nature“

You blink, caught off guard by her words. The offer hangs in the air, the weight of it pressing down on you. Her eyes never leave yours, her expression calm but expectant. The question is simple, but the implication is anything but.

You hesitate for a moment, trying to process what she’s said. “Your assistant?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Kathryn’s lips curl into a slight smile, her fingers still tracing the pen with a casual, almost hypnotic rhythm. “Yes. My personal assistant,” she confirms. „I mean if you‘re not interested I‘d understand“, Professor Hahn says innocently.

“Think of it as an opportunity to work more closely with me, outside the classroom.“ She gets up from her chair and walks around her desk and leans against it right in fron’t of you. She continues, her tone almost conversational. “And trust me, this position will be far more rewarding than your little barista job—financially and otherwise.” After a short pause she adds, “I’ve always believed in rewarding those who excel.”

You swallow hard.

Kathryn’s eyes are fixed on you, waiting, her lips pouting, as if she already knows your answer.

“Alright,” you finally say, your voice steady. “I’ll do it. I’ll be your assistant.”

Kathryn leans back in her chair, her expression unreadable, though something flashes behind her eyes—satisfaction, maybe?

”How… would this work, exactly?“ you ask, your hands gripping the edge of your chair.

Kathryn wipes her hair out of her face in a fluid motion, “I thought you might ask that.” She leans back, her gaze still locked on you, before reaching for the drawer of her desk. The smooth glide of the drawer’s opening feels almost theatrical.

From inside, she produces an envelope. She taps it lightly against her palm as she stands, rounding the desk with languid ease. When she reaches your side, she doesn’t hand it to you. Instead, she lays it on the desk in front of you.

“This,” she says, her voice low, “is the formal arrangement…a contract if you will.“

You stare at the envelope. “Open it,” Kathryn says, her voice a velvet command.

She reaches for something on her desk,

a letter opener, sleek and silver, she offers it to you. Glancing up at her, the older woman’s expression gives nothing away.

You hesitate, the envelope trembling slightly under your grip. “Need help?” she asks, her tone teasing, almost condescending. Before you can answer, she moves closer, leaning down.

Her hand, feather-light but commanding, brushes over yours, guiding the letter opener to the top of the envelope. She doesn’t press, she lets you do the work, but her touch lingers, her fingers grazing yours with maddening precision.

The blade glides through the paper. The faint scent of her perfume, spicy, woody, dangerously alluring, wraps around you, making it hard to think clearly.

“There we go,” Kathryn murmurs, her voice so close it sends a shiver down your spine. “You seem capable of handling instructions. That’s a start.” She steps back just enough, letting you open the envelope fully on your own.

As you scan the first few lines, Kathryn circles you. Your eyes catch on a section titled “Confidentiality Agreement”: “The assistant agrees to maintain absolute discretion about the details of this arrangement, particularly regarding any tasks or interactions deemed ‘non-standard.’

Your throat tightens, but you move to the next section. “Exclusivity Clause”: “The assistant shall not perform similar duties for any other faculty member or individual without prior written consent from Prof. Dr. Hahn.

Her hand comes to rest lightly on the back of your chair. The soft scrape of her nail against the wood sends another shiver through you.

You glance back down. “Termination Clause”: “Any breach of the agreement will result in the immediate termination of the assistant’s position, with additional consequences at the discretion of Prof. Dr. Hahn.”

Her hand slides onto your shoulder, much like before, but this time with an assertive pressure.

Your pulse quickens as your gaze shifts to the next clause. “Written Consent Clause”: “Tasks beyond the standard assistant duties will require the assistant’s explicit, written consent. By signing, the assistant agrees to undertake such tasks.“

She lingers there, not moving, the quiet pressure enough to send a pulse of heat racing through your body.

Her thumb brushes against the slope of your shoulder before her fingers trail downward in a slow, precise motion, just barely grazing your arm. It’s not enough to fully disarm you—only enough to set every nerve in your body alight. “Take your time,” she murmurs, her voice low, intimate, close to your ear.

You breathe, nodding, your eyes drift back to a final section, “Special Considerations”.“Certain tasks may require a degree of proximity, whether physical or emotional. The assistant agrees to approach these with an understanding that some situations may necessitate a adaptable response.”

The warmth of her breath hits the side of your neck, and you realize—this touch, this moment, is no accident. And that’s when her hand pulls away, the absence almost more shocking than the touch itself.

“Well?” she asks, her tone now light, conversational, as if the moment hadn’t just happened. “Any questions about the terms?”

…

The next morning, you quit your newly found barista job. You signed the contract that night, your hand trembling slightly as you did. She had watched with those cool, impassive grey eyes, giving nothing away.

She didn’t give you a copy, only slipped it back into its envelope. A few days later, after her lecture, you were set to meet again. She’d mentioned an out-of-town buisness trip that would occupy her until then.

Authors note: Did I say spicy, hmm? Seems someone’s feeling a little impatient… and oh, so easy to lead on. Keep that eagerness up and I won‘t disappoint.

Happy New Year x

[12raccoonsinadress]

Harvey smut !! I don’t have a plot have a idea for it buuut if could give it some plot that leads into smut

Fem!reader

Stress Is Bad For Your Health: Harvey x Fem!Reader (Smut)

Hope everyone is doing well ~ 💚

Art Cred: @mimipippin

Word Count: 4,314

Third POV

You somehow always find yourself here after a long day. You sit at the bar, never drinking much, but trying to soak in some of the relaxed ambience of the saloon, hoping it'll somehow melt off some of the stress. You didn't assume being a farmer would be easy, but that wasn't it. It was being a farmer, helping the community, rebuilding the community center, mining, fighting off beasts. Really the list went on and on. It was overwhelming. You sipped your drink.

As you lowered your mug you could see the familiar green coat in your peripherals as you were joined at the bar.

"Hard day?"

You looked over now. Harvey always had this cute sort of charm to him in your opinion. Like he was just a little bit nervous to be around you. You sighed, running a hand down your face.

"Clint wanted some iron samples from the mine today. I don't think I've ever seen that many bats in my life."

His expression became one that was more concerned.

"Are you hurt at all?"

"No, I'm alright. Just stressed I guess."

You said, sipping your drink.

Harvey didn't seem convinced, watching you as you did.

"Stress can be bad for your health, Y/n. It impacts your immune system and makes it easier to contract illness. Not to mention the long term affects"

"I know, I know. Don't worry about me, Harvey. I'll be fine."

"Have you tried anything to relieve the stress?"

"I tried a few things. None of them really stuck."

Which was true. No matter what you tried, nothing really helped you relax, even this. Harvey hummed a bit, trying to think for a moment. He wanted to help you, the same way you've done so much to help the community.

"What have you tried?"

"I dunno, yoga, meditating, going to the bath house. And this."

"Well, I can say looking for relief at the bottom of a bottle won't do you much good."

You caught his quick glance towards Pam, who sat across the bar on her third mug of beer. You had no intentions of becoming a drunk, but you could see why that'd be a concern for him.

"I'm not. Trust me, Harvey, I have no interest in drinking myself stupid."

He seemed to relax a bit at that, though still thinking on your behalf.

"Surely there's something that'll help you relax."

You shrugged. You were used to it, not that that was a good thing. His face went a bit red as a thought dawned on him.

Both of you were painfully aware of the tension you had, but it was something neither of you could possibly find a way to address without making things weird. And now, he was considering breaching that barrier between the comfortable tension where no one needed to say anything, and the certainty that you had feelings for each other but all the unknown that comes with that.

"I apologize if this is an invasive question, but have you considered, uh, finding someone to assist you with your stress relief."

You looked at him for a moment, puzzled, like you might not have been following what he said. He continued quickly, more flustered now.

"I just mean, in the sense of, suggesting it as another option that may help you. Plenty of people seek intimacy as a form of stress relief or regulation."

You blushed now too. You hadn't considered getting the stressed fucked out of you, but you also weren't really the one night stand type of person. And with how small Pelican Town was, you didn't think sleeping around would be the best idea anyway. You looked at Harvey, who looked nervous enough to fall off his bar stool. You decided to try and lighten the mood. Or maybe just tease him. Either would be ideal.

"Is this an offer, doctor?"

He blushed harder if that was at all possible. He stammered out quickly.

"I- Well, I wouldn't- Not necessarily."

You raised a brow, an amused smile creeping onto your face. You sort of liked that idea, letting Harvey try and help you relieve your stress.

"Well, if I were to try this method of stress relief, who better to put myself into the hands of than the trusted town doctor?"

You smiled, leaning on the counter and tipping your head. He took a moment, analyzing all the thousands of ways this could be wrong versus how incredibly beautiful he thought you were and how he wouldn't want to give you off to someone else for this. He was looking away as he spoke, too nervous to look at you.

"If.. you believe it'd be in your best interest, I don't see any issue with.. ah, assisting you with your stress problems."

You put the money for your drink down on the bar and extended a hand to him.

"Shall we then?"

"Now?"

"I don't see why not. As long as you don't bite as much as the bats tried to."

You winked. Despite being mildly concerned about that comment, he did take your hand. You left together, making the walk out to the farm. The walk was quiet. He was thinking about all the ways this could go. The last thing he wanted was to disappoint you, especially when this was, or so he kept telling himself, for your health. He wondered if this would effect his chances with you, in a positive or negative way. On one hand, it was an opportunity to get closer to one another on an emotional and physical level, but on the other, to skip over so many of the usually relationship steps and get right to sex wasn't the kind of thing that had a good track record of leading to long term partnerships. He didn't want this to be a one night stand or some kind of friends with benefits thing. He wanted to care for you, cherish you, hold you in his arms after a long day at work and kiss your forehead before blissfully drifting off to sleep. He wanted to see you sleepily stumble from the bedroom in the morning and join him for coffee in the kitchen before you both began your day. He wanted to take you somewhere lovely on some sunny day, take your hands in his, and give you a mermaid pendant. He wanted to be the only person you'd come to for stress relief.

Soon you both arrived at the farm. You opened the front door, going inside and kicking off your boots. He followed suit, taking his shoes off at the door. You turned to him.

"You alright if we head to my room?"

Yes, the plan was to have sex, but you still felt the need to ease him into this. He was usually nervous, so you'd imagine now being no different. He nodded. So, while still holding his hand, you led him back to your bedroom. It wasn't anything too fancy or special. Truthfully, aside from sleeping you didn't spend much time there. You turned on a small lamp near the bed, which illuminated the room with a dim, warm, yellowish glow. You sat on the edge of the bed, having now let go of Harvey's hand.

"Is there any particular way you'd like to proceed?"

He asked. He was really a bit lost on what you wanted from him. He wanted to do good for you. You pat the bed beside you, urging him to also sit.

"I figured we could just feel it out as we go."

He sat beside you, though wasn't looking at you just yet. He was steeling his nerves. You admired the doctor for a moment. Gently, you reached over to cup his cheek and turn his face towards you. He looked at you now, waiting for you to make the next move. You figured you'd be leading this for the most part, but were surprised when he reached for you, placing a hand on the small of your back, simply touching you. He was cute. You leaned in, kissing him softly. It didn't take him more than a moment to adjust and return the gesture. As you suspected, he didn't fight for control, though he didn't fully surrender to you either, doing fairly well at matching you. His hand wandered down, resting on your hip as you deepened the kiss. From his cheek, you trailed your hand down his chest. You'd imagined what he may look like beneath the button up and the jacket. So many layers. Left too much to the imagination. You began your attempt to push off his jacket. He pulled back slightly.

"Allow me. This is for you after all. It wouldn't be right for me to make you do all the work."

His voice was slightly hushed. You blushed hard at that. It was a new side of him. Still caring, yes, but it was more... sure. He took off his jacket, setting it on the foot of the bed. You watched as he loosened his tie, sighing a bit as he did. You were practically in awe. He looked back at you, looking you over a bit.

"If... we are to continue this direction, would you like some assistance undressing, y/n?"

You nodded, maybe a little too quickly. The idea of Harvey undressing you was just too good to pass up. You'd love to feel what those precise doctor's hands felt like brushing against your skin. He moved to be standing in front of you, slipping his hands under your shirt. He wasn't much of a tease, taking it off of you gently but with little ceremony. He set your shirt nicely off to the side before looking at you. There was a bit of a glaze over his eyes. You could only describe it as a look of want. Need.

"Will you be taking off your shirt as well, doctor?"

You teased, breaking him out of his little daze. He nodded, pulling his tie off fully.

"Yes, of course."

He went to work unbuttoning his shirt, looking down as he did. You watched it slowly open up, discarding your bra while you did. You weren't sure what exactly you expected him to look like, but you felt a soft smile creep onto your face. He was him. There was no secret six pack, he didn't look thinner or bigger than he did normally. It almost felt like you knew this is what he was going to look like, and you liked that. He still felt like himself and that was who you loved.

Once he'd set his shirt off to the side, he looked back at you. He pursed his lips, thinking for a moment. He leaned down, speaking softly.

"Could you raise your hips for me? It will be easier for me to help you undress if you do."

You did, biting the inside of your lip just a little bit. His hands were gentle, unbuttoning your pants and sliding them down to the point where you could just kick them off. He seemed to contemplate going and grabbing them to put with the rest of the clothing, but decided to redirect his attention to you. You, and how absolutely stunning you were sitting before him, mostly naked. He swallowed hard.

"How... exactly would you like me to, ah, assist with your stress problems?"

He knew he had a few ideas on what he'd like to do for you and what he'd like to do to you, but now was about you and what you wanted. You thought for a moment.

"Well, doctor-"

"Harvey."

He corrected you, much to your surprise. He blushed as he explained himself.

"Doctor is what my patients call me. People that only know me professionally, not like this. If we continue.. I'd prefer you use my name."

Your heart melted a little bit.

"Of course."

You continued, correcting yourself this time, using a softer tone as opposed to the teasing one you had intended on using.

"Well, Harvey, I think what would help me destress the most would be seeing the rest of you and deciding from there."

If you didn't know any better, you would have thought you saw his glasses fog up, just a little bit. He unbuckled his belt, looking down as he did. It seemed to be how he avoided looking at you. He set his belt aside, soon followed by his pants. You looked him over with almost a hungry sort of expression. You couldn't find the words to describe how you wanted this soft spoken, nervous man to carnally destroy you.

He sat beside you now. You put a hand on his thigh, leaning closer to him. He looked at you, a softness in his eyes that you couldn't quite place. Regardless, you kissed him. He didn't hesitate in kissing you back, wrapping an arm back around you, placing a firm hand on your hip, pulling you closer.

He deepened the kiss this time, getting more excited than nervous now. You liked that. You wanted him to take more initiative with this. You let him lead, almost curious how far this bold streak would take him. He broke the kiss, mostly to catch his breath. You spoke, out of breath.

"I want you on top of me, Harvey."

It wouldn't relieve much stress if you had to do all the work. His face flushed red, and he took a moment to find his voice, nodding first.

"I can do that. Would you like to lay down then?"

You gave him one more peck on the lips before moving to lay back comfortably in your bed. You sprawled yourself out in the most "casual-sexy" way you could manage without putting too much effort in, mostly to tease him. He moved to hold himself up over you, looking down at you.

"If this is the way you'd like to proceed, I should ask if you have the proper... protection."

Right. You almost forgot about that. You couldn't actually think of a reason you would have bought condoms recently, considering your dry spell. It's not like you'd been expecting this tonight. You thought for a moment.

"Does the clinic have plan B?"

He went a bit wide eyed at the implications of that.

"W-we do, but are you sure you want to depend on that?"

You half shrugged.

"I'm alright with it if you are."

He weighed his options for a moment. On one hand, it was risky for multiple reasons, he knew that, but on the other hand, you looked so incredibly enticing beneath him and here you were, essentially asking him to fill you with himself. You were getting inside his head and fogging his better judgement. He nodded.

"Only if you promise to come to me if anything happens afterwards."

Whether that be side effects of the medication or otherwise, he wanted you healthy and taken care of.

You smiled, pulling him down to kiss you. He was so sweet. It's why you think you were so okay with all of this. It was Harvey. He'd never hurt you, he'd always treat you so preciously. While still supporting himself with one hand, his other moved to your waist, moving up and down aimlessly. You let your hands run down his chest, feeling him up a little. A little more curiously, you let one hand wander down further towards his boxers. You smiled slightly against his lips as his breath hitched. You were glad to know you got him excited like this.

He broke the kiss, looking down at you with lidded eyes, a needy expression. It definitely did something for you. His gaze trailed down, as far as it could from his current position.

"May I?"

He asked, a slight roughness to his voice you'd never heard before. It shot through your body and straight between your legs. You nodded, not even completely sure what he was asking to do to you. Then again, you'd let him do just about anything to you as long as he kept looking at you like that.

His hand moved down, fingertips slipping into the front of your panties. You bit your lip, anticipating his touch. He started slowly, brushing against your clit with his middle finger, rubbing at an almost teasing pace. Slow circles one direction, then the other, he'd pause, just for a moment, before pressing a little harder than before and rubbing up and down, a little faster. You started to squirm beneath him, which seemed to be what he wanted as he smiled, ever so slightly.

"I suppose I should ask."

He started, not relenting on his touches.

"If I were to get you to orgasm like this, clitorally that is, it would be a fairly satisfying, but short lived experience. If I were to bring you to a vaginal orgasm, it would be longer lasting, and more intense. However, if you were to finish this way first, it would ideally let your body relax, as well as produce enough slickness to make a vaginal orgasm much easier to achieve."

You gave him a pleading expression, wanting him to get to the point. He seemed to understand.

"All of that to say, Y/n, would you like to experience both tonight, or would you prefer we get to the good part now?"

With the fact that he had continued gently torturing your clit through all of that, you truthfully gathered very little of what he said. What you did gather, was he wanted to get you off, and then fuck you into getting off again, which you weren't necessarily against at the moment. You whined softly as you responded.

"Do whatever you want to me as long as you please stop teasing."

He smiled some at that, though blushing.

"Anything you say, dear."

He said softly, beginning to move a little faster with his hand, though not so fast as to be uncomfortable. You were going to have to ask him where he learned how to do this, because fuck was he good at it. He leaned down, kissing your lips. Perfectly timed, as you arched your back, pressing yourself into his hand, moaning into his lips as he worked you through it, slowing until you relaxed beneath him. He pulled away, letting you catch your breath. He moved back, working on getting your now wet panties off and put to the side. He admired you laying there, flushed red, panting, glistening. A beautiful sight, all for him.

As you came down off your high, you looked over at him. He was hesitating slightly, pursing his lips, sort of messed with the edge of his boxers.

"Something wrong?"

You asked, catching his attention.

"No, nothing is wrong. Apologies, I was just a little distracted."

You weren't completely sure you believed that. You didn't have much time to look into it more though, because you were promptly distracted by him pulling his boxers off. You felt a slight chill wash over your body, mostly in anticipation. It'd been a minute since you'd had anyone, or anything really, inside of you like this. He wasn't an intimidating size by any means though he might have been slightly girthier than you would have said you were used to. You could imagine how good he'd feel filling you up, how nicely he'd stretch you. Thankfully, you didn't have to just imagine for long.

He set his boxers aside, adjusting his glasses slightly. He moved his hand back between your legs, pushing a finger in carefully. You bit your lips as he rocked it inside of you for a moment before going and adding a second. He almost looked lost in thought, staring down at his hand between your legs, watching his fingers disappear inside of you with such ease. Soon, he added a third finger and you started to get impatient. You didn't want to wait any longer. With the hand not prepping you, he gently rubbed your thigh.

It was tempting for him to continue like this. He wanted to see you there, in pure bliss, as much as he could tonight. He didn't know if he'd get you like this again. Tonight wasn't about his desires though, it was about you and getting you to relax. He pulled his fingers out, adjusting so he could spread your legs a little more and place himself in between them. You could feel him pressed against you.

"Are you ready?"

He asked in a gentle tone. You nodded quickly, too eager for him to fill you up. He took a deep breath, adjusting, and slowly starting to press into you. You let your head fall back, eyes closing. You let yourself get lost in the feeling, focusing on how he felt as he started to push inside of you. At the same time, you felt his hand grab yours, making an attempt to lace your fingers with his. You held onto him. He was so sweet, even like this. He stopped. You looked up at him now, seeing that his own eyes were closed. He was taking a moment to relish in the feeling of you around him. Warm, soft, and so incredibly good. His chest rose and fell like he had just finished a marathon. It was a sight to behold. When his eyes opened, he looked down at you, gently squeezing your hand.

"Still alright?"

He asked, out of breath already. You nodded. He nodded in return. He leaned down slightly, bringing your hand up to him so he could kiss your knuckles. He places a few, soft kisses there. It almost distracted you from the way his hips began to slowly rock. He let your hand back down, adjusting to pull your hips more so into his lap. He was trying to get a very particular angle, guiding one of you legs up over his shoulder.

"There we go."

He said in a near whisper, giving a more precise thrust now, causing you to gasp, gripping the blanket beneath you. He had to have done this before. Recently. This couldn't be the same socially nervous doctor you knew. He was still his sweet self, but he knew too well how to work your body, maybe more than even you did. Either way, he must've liked the reaction you gave because he did it again, finding his pace gradually. You moaned beneath him, which only encouraged him on. When you looked at his face, it was an expression of focus mixed with need, desperation.

His pace gradually increased until you felt you were going to lose yourself. Just as it started to get to being too much, he'd slow, causing you to whine beneath him. This happened at least 3 times. You couldn't tell if he was doing it on purpose or not. By that third time, you looked up at him.

"Harvey, please-"

He nodded, seeming to understand your plea as he kept his faster speed. You felt your orgasm start to bubble up inside of you before finally, finally, bursting through your body in a way you couldn't remember feeling. Your body tensed, twitching, your hips trying to fuck themselves down onto him more than just what he was doing as he worked you through it. Right as you began to feel your senses start to calm down, you felt him bottom out, holding there, groaning quietly. You could feel the warm feeling inside of you as he came. He was quite the sight like that. Blushy, sweaty, and completely caught up in pleasure. He lowered your leg, readjusting before carefully pulling out.

He took a second to breathe. Then he looked at your face.

"Stay here. Do you have tissues somewhere? Or, um, maybe a washcloth?"

You gestured to the door that led to the bathroom. He stood up, going that direction to find something to clean you both up with. He took that time to think about what just happened. Not only did he get to be intimate with the woman he was in love with, but he came inside of you. Which, granted, was something he'd have to deal with later. Even so, he felt like he was lighter than air. He came back with a wash cloth, slightly damp with warm water. He cleaned you up, as well as himself.

"Would you like any assistance getting into pajamas?"

He asked. You looked up at him, tired and honestly a little clingy at the moment.

"Harvey, just come here and lay down."

He seemed a little surprised, though did as you asked. He pulled the blanket back so you could at least be beneath it. You got comfortable and moved to be close to him, snuggling against him. He slowly wrapped his arms around you, like you were fragile or maybe as if you'd disappear like some dream if he held you too tight. You felt his chin rest on the top of your head. You closed your eyes, taking a moment to just think.

You were laying here, naked, wrapped in Harvey's arms, listening to the sound of his breathing. You felt calm. Tomorrow, you'd probably be a little embarrassed. Tomorrow, you'd have to talk about it, figure out what this meant for your relationship. You hoped this wasn't just a one time thing. You'd like to do more with him. You'd like to be in an actual relationship. You felt his hand move, gently rubbing your back. You decided to focus on that for now. For now, you were cozy and comfortably pressed up against Harvey's chest, and that's all that mattered.

You felt him press a soft kiss to the top of your head.

Whatever happened tomorrow, you were sure it would be okay.

[savannahsdeath]

a part3 of -this- which im actually proud of ❈ dealer!ellie and reader in love but nothing's perfect . finally a rough part . got carried away but enjoy:3

warnings: ANGST mention of sex, language

the spring season brought the first warming breeze and blooming flowers to the land after the cold winter. the air was filled with the aroma of new blossoms and fresh grass. the sky was typically clear and blue with the occasional fluffy white clouds covering the bright sun. the days often got warmer, but some areas still experienced frosty nights. small animals such as bees and birds returned and chirped their familiar tunes.

spring was the time of rebirth and new beginnings.

you and your father met regularly over the past month. as time went on, your meetings became more and more enjoyable. you began to fill in the blanks and learn about each other, sharing memories and experiences. soon, these meetings became a regular part of your schedules. your relationship began to deepen as you got to know each other better. you started to share more intimate conversations and found comfort in that. your meetings became more than just catching up on life events - they became a source of strength and support for both of you. yet, you were rarely serious, since you started to notice your father’s playful sense of humor and found it endearing — how could ellie describe him as harsh?

right, ellie. she was just as captivating as your new-old parent's funny bone. she had a way of holding your attention and making you feel like nothing else mattered but her. you shared a connection that ran deeper than words could describe. your friendship grew as you bonded over your shared interests and passions — it turned out that she can be a nerd when it comes to dinosaurs. the more you learned about ellie, the more you were filled with a warm, tingling sensation that grew into something more.

until that one day — morning, to be exact. i won't beat around the bush — you fucked this night, and a few nights before, and a few more nights before that... but you didn't regret a thing. ellie could be more romantic than you guessed she is, but it was more than the physical connection between you that made these moments so special. there was a deep sense of intimacy and shared understanding between them - when your skin touched, it felt like you both are an unfinished sculpture, which melted into the other's undried clay limbs.

the gentle warmth of the sheets beneath you beckoned you up from your deep sleep, as if a stroke from the sun itself was caressing your skin. the warmth of your peaceful slumber was greeted with the golden glow of a new day. the embrace of the bed was like a sweet escape as you peered through your sleepy eyes at the sun rising outside your window. your eyes flickered. you noticed the lack of ellie's spirit and your hand ran over the empty part of bed to make sure she's not there, since your sense of sight wasn't trustworthy yet.

you heard her voice from the kitchen, and once you rubbed your eyes and squinted you identified her arm sticking out from around the corner. "tell her the truth," her voice was subdued and had a nervous, disbelieving undertone, "so that she would look at me through tears instead of seeing me as the love of her life?" a pause, during which the other person on the phone talked and you had time to memorize every word. "of course i do, but what choice would she have?"

"truth?" you whispered to yourself. your nerves were on edge as you strained to listen more closely to the dialogue. every sound of the voices became a point of intense focus, your anxiety grew with the realization that they may know something you don't. "choice?..." you tried to keep a steady breathing pace but every word was like a brick added to the wall of tension around your heart, threatening to crush you with the weight of the unknown.

you stretched, purposely making the bed creak, and loudly yawned.

"i have to go" ellie murmured and put her phone on the table. you heard her footsteps, figuring out she walked over to another countertop, probably to make her morning coffee.

you sat up on the bed, staring at the doorway to see her once she's on the view. "what was that, ellie?" you yelled.

she appeared in the hallway, already dressed up in a flannel shirt with a black tank top underneath and her usual torn jeans. "what?"

"who were you talking with?" you pinched the sheet's button and nervously played with the hem of the seam. "and what about?"

"oh, eavesdropping? not nice." she smirked and clicked her tongue, slowly turning around and making her way back to the kitchen. "if i tell you, i'd have to kill you!" she chuckled.

you whined. "don't laugh it off."

the playful laugh that danced upon her lips slowly faded away as an intense realisation washed over her. the mask she has been wearing for so long has slipped off, exposing the truth beneath it all. there was no more trying to cover up the truth with jokes. she was vulnerable and exposed, and all she could do now was accept that you know that something's off.

she licked her lips. "your father—" she cut off and slowly sat down on the bed next to you. she bent her knees and placed her hands on them, letting out a defeated sigh. she stared into the hallway, just like you before, though you had a reason to and her eyes seemed to be blind, not hoping to see anything in particular. hopeless. "i will betray him."

your confusion was palpable as your mind raced to catch up with the changing dynamic of the situation. the laughter and joking suddenly fall away like a veil dropped, revealing an atmosphere tinged with unease and uncertainty. your gaze remained on ellie, studying her expressions in search of a deeper meaning, wondering why the shift in mood suddenly occurred. you were unable to grasp the truth lurking beneath the surface and the other girl could see the wheels turning in your head as you searched for the missing puzzle piece to make sense of it all. whatever it meant, it wasn't predicting anything good. "if you do you will betray me."

"i'm sorry" she mumbled, cocking her head back, leaning it on the bed frame.

you frowned, knitting your eyebrows together in one line, creating a wrinkle on your forehead. "what are you talking about? what the fuck is going on?"

a sharp click echoed through the room, as the sound of a lighter being sparked filled the air. ellie always plays with it when she's nervous, making the momentary flash of light illuminate her face. the bright flame flickered as it was held carefully in the girl's hands, its warm glow emitting its own palpable warmth. "he's in trouble." the fire danced with a mesmeric grace, drawing all of the attention as emotions threatened to boil over.

"can't be that bad." your voice was begging, pleading for her to reassure you that it's nothing. you weren't sure what your father's job was, and you hoped it would stay that way, but now you knew you can't be out of it.

"but it is." she shrugged. "it's not like i have a choice anyway."

you huffed. "you do—"

"don't act like you know everything." she bitterly chuckled. "if i could be on his side, i promise you, i would."

"so there's more of you. you are just a pawn in their treacherous game." the rush of anger swelled within you as you rose from the bed, the truth finally setting in and filling your brain with a rush of emotions. the confusion melted away into wrath and hatred, the heat of your burning anger replacing the cold chill of uncertainty. "so what was your job? making me fall in love? did they force you to?" every word ringed in your head with the intensity of a thunderclap, stirring your fury and disappointment. your body felt heavy with the strength of your emotions as you began to realize everything that has been happening. "that's clever." you stopped pacing back and forth to accusingly point your finger at her. "you used me. i bet it was your own idea too, huh?"

"you can't be serious." she twirled a cigarette on the palm of her hand. "can i?..."

"you can do whatever you please, ellie." you proudly raised your chin and crossed your arms. "just not in my house."

"are you kicking me out?" she asked in disbelief, so strong she almost smiled. she stuck the unlit cigarette between her dry lips and put her hands in the air, like a surrendering thief. "whatever, i understand. but remember, it was me or him. it still is." she stood up and, without taking her eyes off you, walked up to the door.

✧˖°

YAYYY ANGSTY SHIT I LOVE ANGST MEOW

taglist: @bellaramslover @gold-dustwomxn @loverg1rlll @juliluvsu @timmy-27 @marianeski @kuromicoree @inf3ct3dd @mikellie @elliewilliamsonlygirlfriend @syrenada @drunkzuko @florencepughismybae @weridcattty @kanksaint @villainousbear @coff1nn @emst4rr @thehungrygayterpillar-blog @skylerwhitwyo @macaroni676 @cupid1ink @xen222 @onlinelesbo @crxmxnzl-c0rpzes @elliew-illiamsmissingfingers @mochiivqi @lilylynne11 @sevvenspit @williamsblogxx @707bnnyy @poopypeen @agajahan @kali-1014 @lullsss @corpsebridenightamare @planetloverr @lil-elliesgf @littlegingerperson

[librababe99]

hey veronica :))

i was wondering if you'd want to do a follow up for the friends to lovers fic. maybe something a little smutty? in my head it's just slow and sweet and she's reassuring Wade that yes she really does want him and he's just who me ??? whAt?

totally fine if this doesn't pique your interest though!

Hey Nikki !! This TOTALLY piques my interest---Wade is definitely one those guys who needs to be reminded how wanted and loved he is 🤭

I hope this second part does it justice!

More Than Just Friends: Part Two

Tags: MDNI, 18+ONLY, Wade Wilson, Female Reader, First Dates, Implied Smut, Set during the 2016 Deadpool Movie

Summary: Wade and Reader finally explore the depths of their newfound relationship....

wc: 1.4K

| More Than Just Friends: Part One |

After that night in Wade's apartment, something had shifted between the two of you. Everything was the same, yet completely different. The easy banter still flowed, the teasing grins and flirtatious remarks, but there was an undercurrent of something new—a closeness, an intimacy that hadn’t been there before. It was as if you had stepped into a new world with Wade, one where feelings were laid bare instead of hidden beneath layers of sarcasm and jokes.

Tonight was your first, official date. 

You stood outside Wade’s apartment, feeling the familiar flutter of nerves as you knocked. The door creaked open, revealing Wade in his typical “trying but not trying” attire—black jeans, a snug shirt, and his favorite leather jacket slung over his shoulder. His eyes swept over you, and for a moment, he looked genuinely taken aback.

“You clean up nice, hot stuff,” he said with a grin, but there was a warmth in his voice that made your heart skip.

“Not so bad yourself,” you teased, stepping inside and closing the door behind you.

The plan was simple—dinner at one of Wade’s favorite low-key spots and then… Well, you didn’t know what would happen after, but the idea of it made your stomach flip. Being Wade, he insisted on not doing anything too fancy. “Who wants to be stuck in a stuffy restaurant when you could get some killer tacos and people-watch the weirdos of New York?” he’d said, and honestly, that sounded perfect.

Dinner was easy, comfortable, the two of you falling into the familiar rhythm of conversation. Wade made you laugh the entire night, spinning stories about his latest jobs, exaggerated just enough to be ridiculous. The whole time, though, there was an edge to him, a certain awareness in the way he looked at you. His eyes lingered longer, his touches were softer, more intentional.

You found yourself watching him, too—how his smile crinkled his eyes, how his voice softened when he leaned in close. You’d always been drawn to Wade, but now there was a sense of longing mixed in with the affection, something that made your heart race whenever your knees brushed under the table or when he caught your gaze and held it for a second too long.

By the time you left the taco joint, the city was alive with lights and sounds, and Wade took your hand, lacing his fingers with yours as if it were the most natural thing in the world. The two of you walked through the streets, your pace leisurely as you talked about everything and nothing.

“You know,” Wade said, glancing sideways at you, “this was nice. Like, not that I hate being covered in blood and guts every time we hang out, but this? This was nice.”

You laughed, squeezing his hand. “Yeah, I could get used to this.”

A comfortable silence settled between you, but beneath it was that same tension—the unspoken promise of what the night might hold.

Eventually, you found yourselves back at Wade’s apartment. The moment you stepped inside, something shifted. It wasn’t awkward, but there was a weight to the air, a charged anticipation. Wade shrugged off his jacket, tossing it onto the back of the couch before turning to you with a look that made your breath catch.

“So… do we end this night with a classic movie? Something with lots of explosions and bad one-liners? Or do we…” His voice trailed off, and for once, there wasn’t a sarcastic edge to it. He was giving you an out, a chance to keep things light.

But you didn’t want light. Not tonight.

You stepped closer to him, your fingers brushing his arm as you tilted your head up to meet his gaze. “Or do we what?” you asked softly, though you knew exactly where this was going.

Wade swallowed hard, his usual bravado flickering. “Or… we end it like this.”

He closed the space between you in a heartbeat, his lips crashing into yours in a kiss that was both hungry and tender. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer as you melted into him, your arms wrapping around his neck. It was the kind of kiss that made your head spin, that made everything else in the world disappear.

When you finally broke apart, both of you breathing heavily, Wade rested his forehead against yours, his hands still holding you as if afraid you might pull away.

“You sure you want this?” he asked quietly, his voice rough with emotion. “I’m… not exactly the easiest guy to be with.”

You cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing over the rough skin where his stubble had started to grow in. “Wade, I’ve wanted this for a long time. I know what I’m getting into.”

He closed his eyes, exhaling a shaky breath. “I just… I don’t want to screw this up.”

You smiled softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead before looking into his eyes. “You won’t. I’m not going anywhere.”

The vulnerability in his gaze made your heart ache. Wade had always been the guy who covered everything with a joke, the man who never let anyone too close. But now, here he was—completely open, trusting you with the parts of him he’d never shown anyone else.

You guided him toward the bed, the two of you moving slowly, every step filled with intent. Wade’s hands slid up your back, fingers trembling slightly as they traced over the curves of your body. His usual confidence was still there, but it was gentler, more tentative.

When you reached the edge of the bed, you gently pushed him down, straddling his lap as you kissed him again. This time, the kiss was slower, more deliberate. Your hands tangled in his hair as his lips moved against yours, and the feeling of him beneath you, warm and solid, made a wave of heat pool in your stomach.

Wade’s hands rested on your hips, squeezing gently as he pulled you closer, and when you broke the kiss to look at him, his eyes were darker, filled with something deeper than lust—something like adoration.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” he whispered, his voice thick.

You smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to his jaw. “So are you.”

You could feel his breath hitch as your lips brushed over his skin, his grip on you tightening as you began to slowly unbutton his shirt. There was a quiet intimacy in the moment, something that made everything feel right, like this was exactly where you were meant to be.

When his shirt fell open, exposing the hard planes of his chest, you trailed kisses down his neck, savoring the way his body tensed beneath your touch. Wade was usually the one in control, always one step ahead with his quick wit and faster hands, but now, he was letting you take the lead, letting you guide this moment.

“I want you,” you whispered against his skin, and you felt him shudder beneath you.

Wade’s eyes fluttered open, his gaze locking onto yours. There was something vulnerable in the way he looked at you, something raw and unguarded. “Are you sure?”

You smiled softly, your hand resting against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

For the first time, Wade didn’t crack a joke, didn’t try to deflect with humor. Instead, he kissed you again, slower this time, savoring every second. His hands moved over your body, reverent and gentle, and when he whispered your name against your lips, it felt like a promise.

The night unfolded between you, slow and unhurried, each touch filled with meaning, each kiss a reminder that this was more than just a fling. Your bodies moved together with an unspoken understanding, a gentle rhythm that mirrored the years of friendship, trust, and quiet longing that had always simmered beneath the surface. There was no urgency, no need to prove anything—just the overwhelming intimacy of being close, of knowing that this moment wasn’t just about passion, but connection. You could feel it in the way Wade held you, his touch tender and almost hesitant, as if he was afraid of breaking the spell.

When you finally collapsed together, bodies entwined beneath the sheets, Wade pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his arms wrapped around you as if he was afraid to let go.

“You still here?” he whispered, his voice hoarse, but there was a smile in it.

You nodded, resting your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “Still here.”

And in that moment, you knew you always would be.

[furchu]

haunted ノ spirit!spirit mogami

ৎ୭ ₊ ˙ ⊹ . 7.2k ノ fem reader — smut / nsfw / somnophilia / phasmophilia / mogami takes an interest in you as you sleep . ectoplasm

You toss and turn in your sleep, the familiar weight of a heavy blanket cocooning you. The soft hum of the night surrounds you, and the world outside feels far away. Unbeknownst to you, a presence lingers in your room—one that shouldn’t exist.

As the shadows deepen, you feel a sudden chill in the air, almost as if the atmosphere has shifted. You roll over, brushing your hair from your face, and sink deeper into the comforting embrace of your dreams. It’s then that you feel it—a warmth spreading across your body, soothing and electrifying all at once.

Keiji Mogami, a vengeful spirit trapped between worlds, hovers above you, drawn to your vulnerability. He gazes at you, the flickering memories of his past life flooding his mind. The ache of his mother’s suffering fuels his anger, yet your peaceful presence ignites something else within him—a longing he thought lost.

In your sleep, you sense a figure drawing closer, though your subconscious mind simply welcomes the comfort. Mogami leans down, brushing his ethereal fingers against your skin. A gentle caress that sends shivers down your spine. You stir but don’t wake, lost in dreams that swirl like smoke around you.

As he draws nearer, he takes in every detail of your sleeping form. Your soft breaths and delicate features entice him, and he knows he must have you, even if only for this fleeting moment.

With a rush of desire, he slips into the warm space beside you, his spirit blending seamlessly with yours. Mogami's touch becomes a seductive dance—an otherworldly intimacy as he envelops you in his essence. His lips find yours, and the kiss is unlike anything you’ve ever known. It’s soft yet charged, filled with a desperate yearning that transcends the mortal coil.

You respond instinctively, your body arching towards him as if your very soul recognizes his. Mogami's hands explore your form, fingers trailing down your sides, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. He feels the heat radiating from your skin, and his breath hitches as he relishes the contact. His fingertips glide over your waist, teasingly brushing against your soft curves, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake.

“Mmm,” you sigh, lost in the dreamlike haze. Mogami feels a surge of satisfaction at your reaction, your body yearning for him even in your sleep. He draws you closer, his hands sliding beneath your shirt, the cold pads of his fingers rubbing into your hardened nipples.

As he continues toying with your body, he leans in closer, kissing along your neck with feather-light touches. You gasp softly, the sensation intensifying with each caress. “I want you,” he whispers, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through you, stirring a deep need that leaves you clenching around nothing.

His hands glide lower, fingers hooking your panties, teasingly pulling them to the side to expose your twitching clit to the cool air. He captures your lips again, his kiss deepening, tasting the sweetness of your mouth as you respond with equal fervor. You’re lost in a haze of lust, a feverish desire overwhelming your senses.

He spreads you open, leaving a trail of ectoplasm in between your plush thighs before pushing them past your folds. He groans softly, unable to resist the temptation as he leans down, enveloping one of your nipples in his warm, ethereal mouth. The sensation sends electric shocks through your body, and you arch into him, a soft moan escaping your lips.

“More,” you plead, your voice barely above a whisper as you writhe beneath him, desperate for more. He eagerly obliges, shifting his attention between your tits, lavishing them with attention, each flick of his tongue sending shivers coursing through you.

With his hands slowly fucking you open, he revels in your response. He can feel your walls clench around his two, cold fingers, eagerly sucking them deeper. With an intoxicating scent that pulls him deeper into a primal desire. He trails kisses down your stomach, his breath hot against your skin as he moves lower, each kiss igniting your senses like fire.

“Please,” you breathe, your body yearning for more. Mogami can sense your desperation, and it only fuels his lust further. He wants to consume you, body and soul.

“So responsive,” he murmurs, his voice laced with a possessive hunger. With a practiced motion, he dives in, his tongue swirling around your sensitive clit, and you arch your back, a cry escaping your lips. The world fades away as pleasure washes over you, the only thing that matters is the way he works you, his movements sinfully perfect.

You feel the tension building within you, your body thrumming with a need that seems to swell and swell until you think you might explode. “Mogami… I’m so close,” you gasp, your fingers tangling in the sheets, desperately trying to hold onto the remnants of your sanity.

He quickens his pace, swirling and sucking with relentless determination, his mouth a delightful torture that drives you to the edge. Just as you feel yourself teetering on the brink, he pulls away, his eyes dark with lust and longing.

“Not yet,” he whispers, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “I want you to feel everything.”

He positions himself above you, the heat radiating from his form melding with yours as he captures your lips in another searing kiss. You can feel the weight of his desire pressing against you, and the anticipation makes your heart race.

With a fluid motion, he thrusts into you, and a moan escapes your lips as he fills you completely. The sensation is overwhelming. It feels as if he’s claiming you, body and soul, and you melt into him, your legs wrapping around his waist.

Mogami moves with a primal intensity, his thrusts powerful and desperate. Each movement sends waves of pleasure crashing over you, building to a crescendo that has you gasping for breath. Your body responds instinctively, arching against him, urging him to go deeper, to take you harder.

“You’re mine,” he growls, each wet thrust punctuated by his possessive claim. “Always mine.”

Your heart races as you feel the edge of ecstasy drawing closer, every thrust igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume you whole. The world around you blurs, and all you can focus on is him—the way his spirit molds his cock to perfectly fit, filling you completely, his constant leaking ectoplasm leaving that much more of a mess in your sheets.

With a final, powerful thrust, you both teeter over the edge together, a wave of pleasure crashing down around you as you cry out his name. In that moment, nothing else matters—only the raw connection between you, two souls entwined in an otherworldly embrace.

As you both come down from the high, Mogami lingers, his essence spilling into you. The warm, sticky residue coats you, his ectoplasm marking you as his, an indelible reminder of their night together.

When you awaken slowly, stretching your limbs beneath the covers, you feel a lingering warmth enveloping you. As your eyes flutter open, you’re met with the remnants of the night—the sticky essence left behind, a mark of his love and longing.

You glance around the room, heart racing, searching for any sign of him. There’s nothing but the fading glow of his presence and the warmth of his touch still echoing on your skin.

[helloescapist]

The Hashiras in Bed | Gyomei Himejima

Word Count: 3269

Setting: Gyomei Himejima x gn!reader

Content Warning(s): NSFW, smut, shameless, brief mentions of kinks, casual and committed relationships.

Summary: NSFW headcanons, what sex and intimacy means to the Stone Pillar.

A/N: I'm okay. totally okay.

[artwork is not mine, all credit goes to Koyoharu Gotouge]

Entering the Stone Pillar’s bed, you’re expecting softness. Sweet caresses, tender praises. Soft nothings that edge into fantasies, of devotion, and of worship. The callous of his fingers traced amongst your surface, testing each pull of your muscle beneath him. Savoring the feel of you beneath him, using his sense of touch forth his imagination, to paint the image of your desperate cries, the yearning in your eyes beneath his fingers. Himejima’s heightened senses, the fast past of your breathing as you meet his hands eagerly, drawing a near shy avert of his smile before pressing further. A gentle giant that hums of intimacy, that worships you with beneath the etch of his fingers, and ringing prayers in each whimper.  More than capable of seizing your arms above your head, lifting you to meet his hips in eager thrusts that command devoutness. The mere depths of which he can captivate your depths, leave your hips aching and shattered beneath each thrust, the mere tender way his hands that captivate your own, your thighs caught at his pelvis. Completely aware that if the Stone Hashira ever desired to, he could crush you-- sex with Gyomei may not be everything you suspect.

It's true, on one hand, the sex with the Stone Hashira can be tender, as well as giving. More often than not bordering on comfort, on routine, and the safety of familiar positions. Knowing well that he can capture your pleasure within the security of your hold, but there is more lurking beneath the crust of stone, buried under layers of dirt, touched upon the heat of the earth.

Should you only bring it to the surface, dare to tempt the fissure. To summon release, to accept what disasters may come.

The reality is that Gyomei take sex very seriously. He craves comfort, he seeks out security, and as such, it should come at little to no surprise that he is not one to delve into a casual relationship.

The idea of bearing himself to passing fancies, strangers in hearts, familiar with names only, no I imagine that the idea of exposing himself to someone who is not one with his soul, trading flesh for pleasure would likely not only make him uncomfortable but leave him reeling in a pit of self-deprication. Desperate to scrub the memory of an unfamiliar touch, the taste of a stranger’s tongue, the scent of the unfamiliar, or how his dick twitches at the echoes of a moment.

The small touch of loathing that burns into his stomach before he relents the distant reminders into his fist. Horrified at the cries he elicits from himself drawn up from a simple passerby.

No, for Himejima sex is so much more, and to engage in even the occasional rendezvous with even an acquaintance is a detail of shame he will burry into secrecy.  

So unlike that of the Insect Hashira, the axe wielder not only desires the connection of hearts and souls, but requires it for the sake of a performance.

Casual ventures may have started as genuine interest one in which he desperately wanted to divulge in the unknown but was quickly met with the harrowing of realities.

Questions of what he was doing, why was he here, everything quick to seize his conscious. To wonder if in some way his partner may feel pushed into the entanglement as well, his interest quick to dwindle. To become fairly disinterested at the point of harm to his partner, though Gyomei would be the type to remain consider.

The sickening realizing of how… artificial it all feels. Devoid of connection, of love, of hearts as one.

No, he no longer as the means to pleasure you in such a way, but he will not leave you in a horrendous state. The depths he will draw an orgasm to your senses, for your troubles and time.

Yeah, it’ll become more of a business transaction, a little something for your troubles—the way he leaves your core muddled and near weeping, your knees unable to bear your own weight.

Leaves you fucking ruined for any other.

He is not the type to open on a whim to a stranger, nor does he enjoy the idea of ushering his burdens to others, and friendships are cultivated over time, so the idea of casual sex is not one that he will visit often, if at all.

But stranger things have been known to happen.

Actually, for Gyomei sex is crucial in a relationship, but due to his distaste for the touch of a stranger, you can expect that a majority of sexual encounters will not likely occur outside of a deeply committed relationship. So much so that you should be aware that Himejima is entering the relationship with minimal experience, and unattuned to his own needs.

Gods above, imagine exploring the depths of sexual pleasure with him.

That being said, you may be under the impression that Gyomei is not one to seek sexual encounters, and there is some truth in that in his day to day. However, in terms of his own relationship, you could not be further from the case.

You will do well to remain patient with him, because he is not one to jump into matters of the flesh quickly. It’s not going to occur within the first few months of courtship and may not be met for a minimum of a year.

He needs time, he savors familiarity. The comfort of your touch, to know the passions of your heart, the whispers of your slumber, and the coos of delight of your favorite meal. To know the ache of childhood disappointments, and regrowth, rejections and joy,

Gyomei desires to know you to the fullest extent before the desire to know the depths of your physical, the heat of your whole, or the desperate way you cry for his thrust—no, he wants to know you on the deepest level possible because in his heart and mind, sex will be so much better when this bond is solidified.

As though in entangling limbs, the final truth of your bond. Verification of your devotion, of hushed moans unheard by others, pittering thrust against wood paneling bearing the weight of you both etches your bond into your souls united as one at peaked pleasure.

In a committed relationship, he savors sex, and places a higher value on it than other Slayers may.

In truth, there are many ways in which Himejima struggles to communicate the depths of his affections, the hush of his burdens, and the weight of his responsibilities. Intimacy is the perfect way to convey the depths of his devotion.

The drowning of his love, and adoration for you, and he will make it a point to make an encounter routinely. Even if that means he must be boring and pencil you in for a weekly appointment.

 Actually… I imagine in many ways due to his inexperience, and nature as a whole, a routine tryst may be the best route for him. You will discover that while sex is crucial to the Stone Hashira, spontaneity does not come naturally.

So much so that you will have to make the first move. When the time is right of course. Too soon will draw anxiety of expectations, set a pace that leaves him uneasy and insecure.

Pondering if his inexperience will sedate your needs—the thought is enough to have him avoiding the opportunity at all costs. But gods if you ever divulge upon your own needs, crying his name. As time goes on, your bond has become more assured.

Nights spent snuggling, days simply basking in each other’s company. Shared secrets, assorted or not, Weeks turn into months, months have turned into a painstaking year or more.

It’s understandable if you’re practically weak at the notion of finally getting his kimono to slip, just the small peek of a shoulder is enough to make your rabid, daring to trace a finger at his shoulder blade.

Little things such as apply balm to his wounds nearly erotic—no that he ha noticed. He has, and the smallest part of him wonders if perhaps you want—nope, no. Gyomei is so painfully likely to talk him out of the notion that his own lover may actually want to bear themselves to his desires that you will absolutely have to be the one to make the first move.

Let’s be clear, even if the blush has claimed your features, and you struggle to sputter the inquiry, gods he’s melting and choking on his food or if your move is perhaps one of a bold stroke.

the tease of your fingers slipped between the folds of his kimono. Tracing soothingly, the deepening pressure of your lips against his own. Parting only momentarily as the heat of your gaze as you whisper with the utmost assured of your own desires, “I want you.”

Truthfully, a more forthcoming partner is more likely to have their needs than one who is meek and struggling to communicate sexual desires. Not that he would ignore such, it’s just definitely going to take a paaaaaaaaaainful amount of time for either of you to progress. like, it’s been HOW long?.

Himejima will take your lead if you should only take your hand between his. Many assume that due to the man’s stature that he is quick to lead the pace of the relationship, but they would be so terribly wrong.

He is by nature, reserved. So much so that it can hinder the first few encounters, and pose the potential of leaving you both feeling awkward. Eager strokes that fall between shattered hips.

The blush on his features, tripping his fingers unsure of where to group to graze. Unable to relinquish himself to the moment, to you, and because of this, a partner who is capable of seizing control of the bedroom will be beneficial for the both of you and less frustrating.

Because of this, you will have to take the lead. To whisper small touches of praise, and reassurance. Cry into his touch, whisper sweet compliments between peppered kisses, met at the pace of his hips.

“MMM, t-there. J-just like that.”

Assist him in finding the pace in which both of you are peaking, clinging to one another in the sweetest of unfolding. Risks of becoming undone.

God, help him come undone. He carries so many burdens upon his shoulders, struggles to allow the control to slip between his fingers.

His quite nature is one that shields those around him; Gyomei never wishes to disrespect another person, and this will follow him to the bed.

Not only is consent at the top of his thoughts, but unless you take charge, the Stone Hashira is so worried if his pace is enough, if the depth, the length, the girth of his dick is too much beneath his weight; the look of how you had appraised his erected cock.

As though marveling the length, and the girth. Praise whispered of how big his cock was somewhere between stroking his confidence, but also leaving him wondering if--- is it too much for you? Are you okay?

I’m telling you, Mei-Mei is a sub that needs all of the reassurance. Fight me.

Help him to push the thoughts from his mind. To succumb to his desires, to your touch. Whisper praises. Marvel at his cock, sing the depths of enjoying as he fills you to the hilt.

Delight in his comfort, because as Himejima grows more and more comfortable in your embrace, in your nights together, under your direction, you will find that he is a passionate man.

Even better is the moment in which you reassure him that traditions mean little in your bed, and in your sex life. The moment he sheds the expectations that he should carry the burden of initiation, of drive, and domination, the slip of resolve has slipped between his fingers.

Drifted to the lulls. Soothed by your reassurance, and determined to serve you in ways you never dreamed. He has shattered his cocoon, and will do everything within his power to edge you to oblivion under your command.

Sex with Gyomei is all about sharing himself, his deepest self. To give his all to his partner.

At times, you may even be surprised at how the sweet and timid partner you know so well, can become passionate and wild in the bedroom upon our initiation. The blush of his cheeks met at the praise, driving him deeper and deeper.

Having you thanking all the gods that the bedding is a futon, knowing all too well a western bed would snap beneath his thrusts. The Stone Hashira is giving. Understanding.

 He strives to satisfy you. To leave you broken, ruined for anyone who dares to follow.

Discussions of your sex life is actually a big hit for him. One part of it is that it touches on that consent kink, the reassurance that everything, I mean everything he is about to do to you, or you to him is on the table, and suited to fulfill both of your fantasies, but I expect that this would spill over into aftercare. More on that in a bit.

The ability to talk about such things—it’s a hudge hit for him. It gives him confidents, and reaffirms that you are his, and his alone. To be able to have such intimate, deep conversations. He adores that you both of you feel as though your boundaries are being respected, and all sexual desires are accepted.

I’m genuinely convinced that Gyomei is in all terms of the word, a service sub.

The hitch of your hips against his tongue. Left to roam the edging of your sex, peaked and hitched. Yearning and crying in desperation. Bucked against him. Or the way your voices nearly growls as your fingers grip his hair, beckoning him to dive deeper into your sex.

The command of your voice near enough to have him on his knees, worshiping you through whispered flicks across his tongue. Any wish is your desire, he is at your mercy, just please. Whisper his praises.

“mmmmm,” your voice a purr, straddling his hips the pinion of your weight rendering his movements stiff and uneasy. The coy buck of your hips that spewed the smallest of whimpers, pathetic little please that cooed desperation. The cutest of moans, and tremble of his hips. Shaky breaths that fall on near tears as you press against his hips, refusing the attempt to meet your own. “I didn’t say you could move.”

The time in which he happened upon your fingers buried deep in your cunt/threading across your dick. Small purrs pleased and teased, thinking of the massive cock to fill you to the brim, oh how he struggled with the issue of whether to interrupt you.

To thread his hold on you. To meet you. He’d never. Never dare to pleasure himself unless without your instruction. Shy fumbled way, having to be assured to stroke himself as you directed.

No, walking in on you was a severe infringement that had him worried, until you purred his name, told him to either close the door, or join him.

Initially, it can be quite a struggle for him to completely confess his deepest desires, and truthfully, it may take even a little longer than one would anticipate.

You likely have figured out how he leaned towards sub during one stroke, the curiosity having bubbled into you before you took the lead, daring to be a little more aggressive than usual.

The way he melted beneath you. Allows the press of your hand to guide him to his back, putty beneath each thrust. Breathy little moans, cooed out.

Confused, dazed at your command, and unable to deny the claims of his body. Or how quickly he relented into you, weak beneath your pounding.

Allowing the cute muffled moans of surprise guide the slam of you against him,  sensitive to every shift of you against the tip of his dick to the sheathing of his shaft, filled to the brim. Leaving him tender, near babbling.

The sputtering of an apology when he cums far sooner than expected.  

As a giver, and so eager to please, Gyomei is the sort to be fairly open to a variety of encounters in a committed relationship.

Funny as outside of a relationship, he wouldn’t even consider holding hands, but I digress.

Approaching him in an open conversation, communicative to express your needs. Ensuring you do not press upon the force of the kink whatever it may be—give him room to consider.

It can at times be a little much to process, but he holds it considerably dear to his heart. You’re trusting him with the deepest of your desires, and he’s considering it if he has not already outright said yes. More curious requests may take a little more time—and it’s fair.

He’s fairly vanilla by nature.

Things such as dirty talk, and massages will always land their mark with his heart.  Sort of, for the most part he’s adventurous, and as long as it is nothing that inflicts pain upon you.

He’ll give it a shot at least once, but as usual, he will require praise. A little more here and there, peppered in, feed his ego, and you will discover how quick he is to lean into the encounter.

Completely immerse himself in it, allow you to carry him away, absolutely lose himself and become unraveled in the moment.

That being said, I strongly believe that Gyomei would adore the opportunity for you to hand cuff him, tie him to the bed, or whatever position you desire to do so. Have him at your mercy.

Honestly, the Stone Hashira is a mountain of a man, and because of this, there’s a double-edged gift of this. It’s allowing him the opportunity to step out of his duties and allow you control of him.

To relinquish to your touch. In whatever way you desire. Pull his hear. Tie him to the bed. Bring him to the brink of tears only to deny him.

Whisper sweet filthy nothings, depict the absolute way you will run him, have his cock weeping in each thrust, the tip of his cock to meet your tongue. Cried, desperately pleading, and begging you desperately. Ached, and trembling.

Over stimulated.

The blush against his scars, shattered cries and pleading. Begging. Only hushed his cries against the way you reassure him that he is doing such a good job.

Just a little more.

Not yet, tsk tsk.

Not until you say so, mmmmm the rock of his cock, a victim to your relentless pounding.

Grasping what little sanity he has to resist the buck of his hips, bite down the shattering cries and aches of begging to cum into your core. Biting back the feeling of humiliation, the touch of your fingers firm. Cooed begged.

Puddled, and spewing.

To hold him tight when he can no longer resist, to ease kisses upon his brow. To listen to the small bit of tears, as he apologies for the mess, to adore the gentle way his fingers will wander your thighs.  To understand that Gyomei will accept you for all that you are and give himself to you time and time again. Etch your name into your heart, the intertwine of your bodies proof of your own bond, souls intertwined in heart and ecstasy.

It’s vulnerability.

It’s devotion.

It’s him.

[silkval]

♜】 the innermost alphabet

》 content desc/warnings

mainly just fluff, dottore being a little shit (as always), softtore auuugh

★fujoshis, fem aligned and minors please fuck off- you will be blocked★

ℭ》 Crumble

how long does it take for them to give into you?

it takes precisely three minutes and seventeen seconds for dottore to give in to you. it begins with a dismissive flick of his gloved hand, a roll of his rubied eyes, and an exasperated sigh that he thinks is hidden behind his mask. you see through it, of course, just as you see the barely-contained amusement lurking in the corners of his sharp, aristocratic features. and, of course, you persist- your voice light and teasing, dancing around him with questions and quips designed to chip away at his meticulously constructed façade. at two minutes, he tries to distract himself with an alchemical concoction, the soft clink of glass and the hiss of bubbling liquids filling the space between your words. by the time three minutes have passed, there’s a twitch at the corner of his lips, a fleeting shadow of a smile. seventeen seconds later, he turns to you, his mask slipping just enough to reveal a spark of mischief in his eyes. "alright," he concedes, his voice a rich, velvet murmur that sends a shiver down your spine. "you've caught my interest. now, what were you bothering me for, hm?”

𝔇》 Dream

If everything could be absolutely perfect- how would that look to him?

in dottores -or, zandik, as he finally allows you to call him- ideal world, perfection would manifest in the quiet moments of intimacy shared between him and you, away from the prying eyes of the fatui or the burdens of taxing experiments. your shared home would be a sanctuary, filled with the scent of rare herbs and the soft glow of candlelight, where you could just lose yourself in one anothers presence. in this utopia, your relationship thrives with a delicate balance of intellectual banter and playful teasing, your laughter a melody that soothes the edges of his sharp wit. he would revel in your companionship, finding solace in your understanding of his complexities and quirks- and even began to mirror after time, as he noted. withing the safety of your shared home, those rare moments of vulnerability came easier to him, and he’d find himself speaking softer, quieter- none of that exaggerated bravado and harshness- no longer needed when it was only your familiar presence. in this perfect life, dottore would find not only utter adoration and love, but a sense of belonging and contentedness that transcends the boundaries of all that he could have ever wished for.

oops sorry 4 the wait. anyway yippe dottore. also im ginger now

[nayziiz]

No Way | LN4

Summary: Lando Norris, an F1 driver for McLaren Racing, faces persistent attention on his single status. In an attempt to appease fans and quell rumours, his management suggests a fake relationship with a popular Portuguese model. However, Lando's PR manager, Natalie, disagrees, believing fans would see through the ploy. As an alternative, Lando's management notices the genuine bond between him and Natalie and proposes they feign a relationship for authenticity. Initially hesitant, they agree, given their existing friendship and professional connection. The fake relationship takes an unexpected turn as Lando and Natalie grapple with burgeoning real feelings, attempting unsuccessfully to conceal their growing emotions.

Pairing: Lando Norris x Original Character (Natalie)

Warnings: Mentions of physical and emotional abuse; SA; fluff

Masterlist

CHAPTER 7

In the weeks following the Miami Grand Prix, the bond between Lando and Natalie deepens as they find themselves drawn to each other's company. The shared experiences of the racing world create a unique connection, and they gradually begin to spend more time together away from the bustling atmosphere of the tracks.

As the Monaco Grand Prix approaches, Lando extends a heartfelt invitation to Natalie to stay with him in his apartment in Monaco. It's not just about the proximity to the upcoming race; it symbolises a growing intimacy and trust between them. Natalie, appreciative of the gesture, accepts the invitation, excited for the chance to spend more time with Lando outside the pressures of the racing circuit.

The week in Monaco becomes a pivotal chapter in their relationship. Lando and Natalie share not only the scenic beauty of the principality but also the quieter, more personal moments. They explore the charming streets of Monaco together, indulging in local cuisine, and taking in the breathtaking views of the Mediterranean. This time away from the track allows them to discover each other beyond the adrenaline-fueled world of Formula 1. Despite the bond between them growing stronger every day, they both use the excuse of their fake romance as a cover to hide their true feelings for one another.

Lando's apartment becomes a haven where they can relax and be themselves. The atmosphere is filled with laughter, shared stories, and a growing sense of connection. Amidst the backdrop of the glamorous Monaco lifestyle, their budding romance flourishes, creating lasting memories that extend beyond the confines of the racing calendar.

During this week, Natalie gets a firsthand look at Lando's off-track passions and interests, and they find common ground in their pursuits outside of racing. This shared experience not only strengthens their emotional connection but also sets the foundation for a more profound understanding of each other's lives. Determined to keep Monaco and his apartment a haven for the two of them, Lando sets up his friends in a hotel as opposed to letting them stay with him and Natalie in his apartment.

As Lando gets ready to head out for a night of drinks with friends, the atmosphere in his apartment is a blend of anticipation and tranquillity. The soft glow of bedside lamps casts a warm ambiance, creating a cosy contrast to the bustling nightlife awaiting him outside.

In the bedroom, Natalie is nestled under the covers, engrossed in the pages of her book. The gentle rustle of the turning pages harmonises with the muted sounds of Lando moving about the apartment. Occasionally, she steals subtle glances at him, her eyes tracing the familiar contours of his movements.

Lando, dressed in casually chic attire, moves back and forth between the bathroom and his bedroom. The faint scent of cologne lingers in the air, leaving a trace of his presence. As he checks himself in the mirror, adjusting a collar or running a hand through his hair, Natalie can't help but smile at the easy confidence he exudes.

Their contrasting activities create a serene tableau—the peaceful reading nook juxtaposed with the energetic anticipation of the night out.

“Have you seen my shark tooth necklace anywhere?” Lando asks as he peers around the corner from the bathroom

“It’s on the vanity.” Natalie nonchalantly responds without lifting her gaze from the book

“It’s not there, I’ve checked.” Lando informs her, a touch of frustration in his voice.

“It was there before you started getting ready.” Natalie counters, her expression a mix of amusement and bemusement. There's a subtle teasing tone in her voice, as if she's unravelling a mystery she finds rather amusing.

Lando, wearing an expression of defeat, returns to the bathroom, his search for the elusive shark tooth necklace proving unsuccessful. Natalie, sensing his frustration, decides to join the quest for the missing accessory. She gracefully gets out of bed, her oversized hoodie cascading over her hips and covering her pyjama shorts.

With a knowing smile, Natalie follows Lando into the bathroom, her gaze scanning the familiar surfaces. As she spots the necklace nestled behind Lando's hair gels and aftershave on the vanity, she can't help but suppress a playful giggle. Reaching for the necklace, Natalie picks it up with a triumphant air and holds it up for Lando to see.

“Looking for this?” She teases, her eyes sparkling with amusement. Lando, turning to face her, is met with a mixture of relief and playful reproach.

“You found it? And here I thought I was going to have to search the entire apartment.” He breathes a sigh of relief. Natalie hands him the necklace with a mischievous grin.

“You might need a treasure map next time.” She quips, enjoying the light-hearted moment. Lando takes the necklace, rolling his eyes in mock exasperation.

“I swear, it grows legs and hides every time I need it.” He jokes, his playful demeanour matching hers. “Sometimes I wonder what I would do without you.”

“You’ll be alright.” Natalie chuckles as she leans against the vanity to watch him struggle to put it on.

As Lando bends down to retrieve the fallen necklace, the delicate piece of jewellery slipping through his fingers and landing just before Natalie's feet, a moment of subtle tension hangs in the air. The room is momentarily hushed as their eyes meet, a shared awareness of the proximity between them.

Lando, rising slowly, inches away from her, locks eyes with Natalie. The atmosphere shifts, and the playful energy from the earlier search transforms into a quiet, charged connection. The air seems to thicken with a mixture of curiosity and unspoken emotions.

Their closeness becomes palpable, the shared space charged with a magnetic pull. Lando, still holding the necklace, allows a brief pause before breaking into a charming smile.

“Looks like it wanted to be closer to you.” He quips, injecting a touch of humour to diffuse the building tension. Natalie chuckles, a hint of blush gracing her cheeks.

“Maybe it just needed a change of scenery.” She replies, meeting his gaze with a playful glint in her eyes.

Lando, with a hint of vulnerability, extends the necklace toward Natalie.

“Will you help me put it on, please?” He requests with a genuine warmth in his eyes. She accepts the necklace with a smile, appreciating the endearing clumsiness in his request.

As she clips the necklace around his muscled neck, their hands briefly linger in the shared moment. The simple act of helping him put on the necklace becomes a quiet exchange of intimacy, reinforcing the connection that has been growing between them. While fastening the clasp, Natalie glances up at Lando, her smile softening.

“Are you sure you don't want to come tonight?” He asks, a note of concern in his voice.

“Yeah.” She replies, her fingers deftly securing the necklace. “I'll order room service and read. Just feeling a bit worn out after the last few days.”

Lando nods, appreciating her honesty. As Natalie fixes the collar of his crisp white cotton shirt, he can't help but watch Natalie's eyes intently. The soft glow of the room accentuates her features, and in that moment, he feels an overwhelming desire to express how beautiful she looks. However, a sense of restraint holds him back, perhaps a combination of the lingering playfulness from the necklace incident and the understanding of the importance of timing.

Natalie, oblivious to the internal struggle within Lando, notices some stray fuzz on his shoulder and chest. Her hands delicately dust off the tiny particles, a gesture that carries both care and familiarity. In this simple act, there's a silent communication between them, an unspoken connection that transcends words.

Lando's gaze remains fixed on Natalie, his eyes reflecting a mixture of admiration and affection. He restrains the words that linger on the tip of his tongue, aware that sometimes actions can convey more than words ever could. The room seems to hold a quiet energy, filled with the unspoken sentiments that swirl around them.

“You're looking quite dapper tonight, Mr. Norris.” Natalie comments, a half-smile playing on her lips. Lando, appreciating the compliment, feels a twinge of guilt for leaving her behind.

“I feel bad for leaving you here alone, though.” He mumbles, his concern evident in his voice.

“Please, don't. I think the rest will do me good. Just go have fun.” Natalie reassures him, her tone gentle yet firm,

Lando looks at her, a mixture of gratitude and longing in his eyes. He appreciates her understanding and selflessness. With a final glance and a tender smile, he heads towards the door, leaving Natalie in the cosiness of the room.

As Lando leaves for dinner with his mates, a sense of unease washes over him. The absence of Natalie by his side, a constant presence for weeks, leaves him feeling exposed. Throughout the night, he finds himself glancing at his phone, wondering if she's doing okay without him. The usual banter and shared moments are conspicuously absent.

As the hours pass, the lack of a message from Natalie gnaws at him. Concern grows, and he realises that her absence has created a void that he hadn't fully acknowledged until now. The usual buzz of the night out with friends becomes somewhat muted as thoughts of Natalie occupy his mind. After some contemplation, Lando decides to reach out, his fingers typing a message to her.

L: Wanted to say goodnight in case you're asleep when I get back.

Minutes later, a response appears on his screen, and a sense of relief washes over him.

N: Be safe and have fun ;)

Her simple yet reassuring words alleviate the worry that had been building within him. Lando smiles at the message, grateful for the connection they share even when physically apart. As he continues with the evening, her words linger, providing a comforting reminder that, even in moments of distance, their bond remains strong.

Lando arrives back at the apartment shortly before midnight. He knows Natalie will be fast asleep when he gets back. The travelling this season has been more intense on her than last season and it’s starting to take a toll on her. He knew their fake relationship was only there to get the fans off his back, but he couldn’t help but care about her.

As Lando unlocks the apartment door and steps inside, a hushed atmosphere surrounds him. The night light, left on by Natalie, softly illuminates the room, casting a gentle glow on their surroundings. Appreciating her considerate gesture, he tiptoed through the apartment to his bedroom, avoiding loud creaks that might disturb her peaceful slumber.

Upon entering the room, he notices Natalie, completely enveloped by the covers, lost in the realm of dreams. The rhythmic rise and fall of her breathing indicate a deep sleep. Taking care not to make any noise, Lando quietly changes into a pair of sweatpants, ensuring he won't disturb her with any sudden movements.

Sliding into the bed beside her, Lando's slow but deliberate motions on the mattress catch Natalie's attention. Though initially lost in her dreams, the subtle changes in the bed's weight caused her to stir. She gradually wakes up, turning her head slightly to confirm the presence of the person beside her.

Her eyes, adjusting to the dim light, meet Lando's. A soft smile forms on her lips as she recognises him. The room is filled with a tender ambience as their eyes lock, the unspoken understanding between them bridging the gap between sleep and wakefulness.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry.” Lando whispers apologetically beside Natalie. “Go back to sleep.”

“What time is it?” She asks, groggily, as she turns to him, blinking away the remnants of sleep.

“Just after midnight.” He informs her, settling down under the covers.

“Did you have a good time?” She wonders.

“Not really.” He hesitantly answers.

“How come?” She curiously asks, turning even more so she can see more of his face.

“Just missed you there tonight.” He admits, his voice sincere.

The vulnerability in his words hangs in the air, a testament to the depth of their connection. The subtle admission reveals that, despite the company of friends and the night's activities, Lando's thoughts were consistently drawn back to the absence of the one person who had become an integral part of his everyday life. Natalie, still half-lulled by sleep, smiles at his confession.Her cheeks burn up as she turns back to her original position.

“Get some sleep.” Lando urges, gently redirecting the conversation, perhaps wanting to shift the focus away from his emotions.

After a few minutes, Natalie reaches behind her, searching for Lando's arm. When she finds it, she pulls it over her waist and runs her fingers gently over his forearm.

“Your skin is so cold.” She whispers. In response, she pulls his arm under her hoodie, allowing his arm to rest on the warm skin of her midriff.

“You're so warm.” Lando whispers back, moving closer to her. “You're so good to me.”

Lando, not fully aware that he had spoken his thoughts aloud, senses a shift in the atmosphere as Natalie remains silent in response to his vulnerable admission. Undeterred, she chooses not to address the statement directly, opting instead to continue playing with his fingers under her hoodie.

Feeling her push herself closer against him, sharing their body heat, Lando appreciates the unspoken connection between them. In the quiet of the night, their intertwined fingers become a tangible expression of the emotional bond they've formed during their fake relationship.

For Natalie, the complexity of their situation weighs on her mind. She had agreed to fake date Lando, anticipating the challenges that might arise, but the depth of the connection and the joy of being his "girlfriend" caught her by surprise. The realization that their fake relationship will eventually come to an end looms in the back of her mind, a difficult truth neither of them is ready to confront.

As they share the warmth under the covers, the unspoken acknowledgement of the impending end casts a bittersweet shadow. The joy of their time together is palpable, but the looming conclusion adds a layer of melancholy to the otherwise tender moment.

- THE NEXT MORNING -

While Lando is in the shower to get ready for the day, Natalie seizes the opportunity to make a call to her boss, Charlotte.

“I've been meaning to ask you, uh, has management given you any indication of when they expect this relationship to come to an end?” Natalie inquires, ensuring she can hear the sound of the shower in the background.

“What do you mean? Is something wrong?” Charlotte quickly asks, a note of concern in her voice.

“No, no, everything's fine. It's just, I suppose this can't last forever, and we need to prepare for that if that makes sense.” Natalie explains, choosing her words carefully. There's a moment of silence on the other end of the line as Charlotte processes the information.

“Ah, I see. Well, there wasn't a set timeline communicated to me, but it's a good point. We should think about how to manage the transition when the time comes.” Charlotte agrees, her tone professional yet understanding. “I think the two of you will need to chat about it and decide for yourselves when the best time would be for that. I can understand that you want to go on with your own life.”

“Yeah, I guess that makes the most sense.” Natalie concedes, pacing the room in front of the bed as the weight of the impending conversation settles on her shoulders.

“Are you sure you're okay?” Charlotte probes, sensing something beneath Natalie's reassurance.

“Yeah, everything's fine.” Natalie responds, not wanting to burden Charlotte with the complexities of her emotions.

“You didn't catch feelings for the boy, did you?” Charlotte questions, a note of concern in her voice. Natalie takes a moment before she answers, contemplating the honesty of her response.

“Possibly, that's why it'll probably be best to kind of nip all of that in the bud before it escalates, you know.” Natalie confesses, running a hand through her dark brown hair. “But, I'll sort that out and let you know if there are any changes.”

“Alright, well good luck, darling. I’ll see you two later today.” Charlotte says, her words carrying a mix of support and understanding before they end the call.

As Natalie hangs up the phone, a sense of responsibility and the weight of her emotions converge, setting the stage for a conversation that could shape the course of her fake relationship with Lando.

Caught up in her thoughts and scrolling through notifications, Natalie suddenly realises the absence of the sound of the shower. Instinctively, she turns around, only to be met with the unexpected sight of Lando leaning against the bathroom door frame. He stands there, with just a towel wrapped around his waist, his body glistening from the water droplets that cling to his skin. Lando's curly hair is soaked, and droplets of water cascade down, creating a mesmerising pattern against his toned physique.

“You're ready for this to end?” He asks, his tone betraying a sense of disbelief. “Did you meet someone?”

“Lan, no...we need to be realistic about the situation. We can't keep up the fake relationship forever.” She explains, choosing her words carefully.

Lando, still processing the conversation, repeats his question: “Did you meet someone?” Natalie, looking directly into his eyes, shakes her head.

“No, that's not why I was asking.” She confirms, emphasising that her inquiry wasn't prompted by the emergence of a romantic interest elsewhere. He runs a hand through his wet hair, his eyes searching hers for some hidden meaning.

“I thought we were doing well. I mean, I've enjoyed having you around, and I thought you felt the same.” Lando admits, a hint of vulnerability in his voice. Natalie sighs, feeling the weight of the conversation.

“It's not about not enjoying our time together, Lando. But we need to consider what happens when this arrangement comes to an end.” She says, her gaze steady.

The room becomes filled with palpable tension as they navigate the complexities of their fake relationship and the looming prospect of its conclusion. The unspoken emotions between them swirl in the air, leaving both Natalie and Lando grappling with the reality of their situation.

“Please, just be honest with me.” He pleads with her.

“Fine. I’m scared. I’m scared we’re going to get too comfortable with this arrangement and we’ll end up getting hurt when management decides to pull the plug.” Natalie admits, her breath shaking as she speaks. “It’ll just be better when we have a day, a date, something so we know. It’s going to be an adjustment going back to normal.”

“Don’t you think we’re past comfortable already? I mean, I am standing in front of you with just a towel in my bedroom. We spend most nights sleeping in the same bed. This is our new normal. It has been for months. What would the old normal even look like?” Lando counters.

Natalie, caught off guard by his perspective and his apparent desire to continue their faux relationship, finds herself at a loss for words. The complexity of their situation, the blurred lines between fiction and reality, leaves her feeling confused and uncertain about the path forward.

“Nattie.” Lando pleads, his voice carrying a mixture of earnestness and confusion. “How could we ever go back to normal?”

“I don’t know, Lando. I just want to be prepared for it when it happens, OK?” Natalie responds, a tinge of frustration evident in her tone.

She's annoyed that he overheard the conversation and finds his teasing demeanour, particularly in just a towel, distracting. “Why would you want this to continue anyway?”

“Because you're incredible!” Lando exclaims, his frustration and genuine feelings coming to the forefront. “Your smile feels like home. Your embraces make me feel secure. You motivate me every day to be the absolute best I can be. When you're not with me, I feel like a deer caught in headlights.”

His heartfelt declaration hangs in the air, a vulnerable admission of the depth of his emotions. The room is filled with the raw honesty of his words, and Natalie, caught off guard by the intensity of his feelings, is left momentarily speechless.

Lando's confession lays bare the genuine connection that has developed between them during their faux relationship. The unexpected turn in the conversation adds a layer of complexity to their situation, forcing them to confront the authenticity of their feelings amid the backdrop of a relationship built on pretence

“You're not doing this. You're not going to confess your feelings for me, Lando. That complicates everything. That's why I'm scared, because how do I listen to this and be happy to end this fake relationship?” Natalie argues, her voice strained with the weight of conflicting emotions, tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

“Why should we have to end it, then? Why can't we just be this until we don't want to be anymore? You know this hasn't been fake for a while.” Lando, equally determined to express his feelings, counters

Caught in the whirlwind of emotions, Natalie grapples with the revelation that Lando's feelings align with the unspoken desires she buried deep within herself. The unexpected turn of events challenges the carefully constructed barriers she built to maintain the facade of their fake relationship.

In this moment of realisation, Natalie is confronted with the vulnerability of her own emotions, a stark contrast to the pragmatic approach she adopted to shield herself from the impending end. The weight of the truth settles on her shoulders, and the room becomes a silent witness to the uncharted territory they find themselves in, both emotionally exposed and uncertain about what lies ahead.

Natalie, overwhelmed by the surge of emotions and unable to confront Lando's confession, refuses to answer him. Instead, she tosses him a shirt and a pair of shorts, a physical distraction from the emotional turmoil.

“I can't have this conversation with you when you look like that.” She states, her voice steady but her back turned to him. As she wipes away the tears from her cheeks, the room is filled with an unspoken tension.

Lando quickly gets dressed and dries his hair with the towel. He clears his throat, a silent indication that she can turn around.

“Nattie, why are you so scared all of a sudden?” He gently asks, his earlier emotional intensity calming down. Lando, dressed and composed, seeks to understand the source of Natalie's sudden apprehension.

When Natalie turns around, she's a sobbing mess. Lando, seeing her emotional state, hurries over and wraps his arms around her, providing a comforting embrace.

“I'm scared that when things come to an end, you'll stop looking at me like I'm the sun, the moon, and the stars.” Natalie mumbles into his chest, her vulnerability laid bare.

“You are my sun, my moon, and my stars, Nattie.” He assures her, his voice filled with sincerity. “Don't end things before we've had a proper chance to really make it work. Not for the cameras, not for the fans or management, but really make it work because we care deeply for each other. Can we do that?”

Natalie pulls away and studies Lando's face for any doubts, but his expression conveys a mix of hope and desperation. He looks down at her like she's about to rip his heart out of his chest if she answers anything else apart from yes.

“Please.” He whispers, his desperation evident in his plea.

Instead of a verbal answer, Natalie crashes her lips against his, pulling her arms around his neck in a passionate embrace. After a few intense moments, she pulls away and looks at the time on her watch.

“We have to go. Free practice starts soon.” She reminds him, her voice a mix of urgency and a lingering connection.

- LATER THAT DAY -

Lando finds himself distracted by Natalie's movements around the garage as she prepares her media packet. He watches her effortlessly engage with the mechanics and engineers, sharing laughter and exchanging comments. Her brown hair whips from side to side as she moves, an animated presence that captures his attention.

Natalie's focus shifts between assembling her media packet and stealing quick glances at Lando as he prepares to head out for FP1. The top half of his race suit is tied around his hips, revealing the black fire suit underneath that complements his tanned skin perfectly. The casual yet alluring sight of him in the garage momentarily captivates her attention.

“Girl got your brain upside down this morning?” Oscar asks Lando as he stands beside his teammate.

“You have no idea.” Lando simply answers, his eyes not leaving Natalie for a second.

“Lily!” Natalie exclaims when she spots Oscar's girlfriend entering the garage. “It's so nice to see you again.”

Natalie quickly embraces Lily in a tight hug. She loved having Lily in the paddock. Lily's university schedule made it difficult for her to attend race weekends, but whenever she had the chance, she came to support Oscar.

“You didn't say Lily was coming this weekend, shame on you.” Natalie comments as the girls approach Lando and Oscar.

“She surprised me last night by knocking on my hotel room door.” Oscar explains, chuckling at Natalie's overreaction.

“We need to have dinner sometime this weekend.” Natalie insists.

“That'd be lovely, thank you.” Lily agrees.

“Yo, Lando. Time to head out!” Lando's race engineer yells, pointing to the car behind the group.

Lando tears his gaze away from Natalie, Oscar, and Lily, turning his attention to the race engineer's call. The racetrack beckons, and with a nod to the group, Lando heads towards his car, ready to focus on the upcoming practice session.

Natalie hands Lando his helmet and walks with him to the car. She watches with a mix of pride and concern as he gets in and gets strapped in. Lando looks up at Natalie with a sparkle in his eyes.

“Be safe out there.” She breathes.

“Of course.” He assures her as he puts on his gloves.

When he's almost ready to be rolled out, Natalie taps his helmet, making him look up at her.

“Make me proud, Norris.” She warns him.

“Always, baby.” He replies with a sneaky wink.

The endearing term 'baby' effortlessly rolls off Lando's tongue, and Natalie can't help but love hearing it from him. It brings a warmth and sense of adoration that adds a personal touch to their unique dynamic. As the car is rolled out to the track, Natalie watches, a mix of emotions coursing through her.

- THAT NIGHT -

It had been a long day of practice. Lando and Natalie spent minimal time together aside from their usual lunch with his trainer in between sessions. Natalie has been on a high all day from the second she heard the word ‘baby.’ She couldn’t wait to hear him say it again, but he was professional all day, only holding her hand here and there as they walked through the paddock.

“It was a good day, no?” Natalie asks as they arrive back at their hotel room. “The pace looked really good and this isn’t even a track we usually perform too well at.”

“Yeah, I’m actually quite surprised it went as well as it did.” Lando agrees as he collapses on the bed, sprawling out his limbs.

Natalie heads to the bathroom to change out of her uniform and into something more comfortable. She opts for a pair of shorts and an oversized shirt, seeking the ease and relaxation of casual attire after a long day at the track.

“I was thinking of going to dinner with Lily tomorrow after qualifying, that gives her and Oscar time to catch up.” Natalie speaks from the bathroom. Lando is quiet.

As Natalie peers around the corner, she finds Lando fast asleep in the same position he laid down in. A smile crosses her face, and she decides to put on a pair of jeans instead, opting to go for a walk to avoid disturbing his rest. She scribbles a note down on a piece of paper and leaves it next to his phone before quietly exiting the hotel room.

The note reads, "Went for a walk. Back soon. Sleep well, Lando. - Nattie." With that, she steps out into the evening, leaving the sleeping Lando in peace as she takes a moment to herself. The city outside holds a different kind of energy, and Natalie embraces the tranquillity of the night, knowing that the upcoming race weekend holds both challenges and moments of connection.

An hour later, Natalie's phone starts vibrating in her jeans pocket. She pulls it out and answers immediately when she sees it's Lando.

“Hey.” She greets, a soft smile forming on her face.

“Hey.” Lando's voice comes through, filled with a hint of sleepiness. “Where are you?”

"Just went for a walk, needed some fresh air. I’m just down the street, actually.” Natalie replies as the city sounds faintly audible in the background.

“You should've woken me up. I would've joined you.” Lando suggests.

“I didn't want to disturb your sleep.” She chuckles. “How are you feeling?”

“Good, a bit groggy, but good.” He admits. “Want to go for dinner? I just have to change.”

“That sounds lovely. I’ll be up in a few minutes.” She affirms.

“See you soon, love.” He greets her before ending the call.

Natalie can't help but smile at the endearing term. The word 'love' slips from Lando's lips effortlessly, and it warms her heart. She heads back to his apartment, eager for a quiet dinner together after a day filled with the intensity of racing. Upon her return to the apartment, she hears him busy in the bathroom.

“I’m back.” She informs him as she heads to her suitcase to find something else to wear for dinner.

“You don’t perhaps have a little black dress packed in there?” He asks as he leans against the bathroom’s door frame. Natalie turns her head to find him dressed in all black and freshly shaved.

“Not a black one, but a green one?” She answers as she pulls out the silk emerald green dress.

“That’ll work as well. Green looks good on you.” He comments before returning to the bathroom to finish up.

Natalie changes into the emerald green dress, perfecting her look with makeup. She then searches for her black block heels to accompany the outfit. As she finds them and sits at the edge of the bed to put them on, Lando watches her intently from the bathroom's door frame, captivated by every movement.

He loves every second of seeing her cross her smooth, tanned legs over each other to put on her shoes. The quiet and intimate moments shared while getting ready for dinner underscore the depth of their connection.

“You know, when you asked me to go to dinner, I didn’t think it would be this smart.” She comments.

“Felt like treating you.” He responds, his voice carrying a note of sincerity.

As she stands up and straightens her dress that reaches her mid-thigh, the atmosphere takes on a subtly romantic undertone.

“Oh, like a date you mean?” Natalie teases, a playful glint in her eyes.

“Exactly like a date.” Lando agrees, his tone laced with warmth and affection as he takes a step closer to her. The proximity adds an intimate touch to their interaction. “You’re the most beautiful girl in the world.”

“Stop it.” Natalie says shyly, a blush colouring her cheeks.

Lando's genuine compliment evokes a tender response, and the genuine exchange captures a moment suspended in time. Lando frowns at her refusal to accept his compliment and steps even closer, resting his hands on her hips before they travel around to her back.

“Gorgeous.” He whispers in her ear sending shivers down her spine.

“Lando.” She whispers back as she presses her forehead onto his shoulder. His hands keep travelling up and down her back over the silky material covering her body.

“Breathtaking.” He continues before planting a soft kiss on her neck. “Now let’s go to dinner.”

He pulls away from her, grabs her hand and leads her out the door.

Dinner was pleasant. The absence of fans crowding them in the restaurant provided a welcome change. What took Natalie by surprise was the newfound sexual tension between them. Lando had awakened a repressed part of her femininity that she had kept hidden after her last relationship. The intimate atmosphere of the evening seemed to have unlocked a deeper connection between them.

As they walked back to the hotel, the city lights casting a soft glow around them, Natalie couldn't help but lean into him. He wrapped his arm around her, and his jacket covered her exposed shoulders, creating a subtle yet intimate shield against the cool night air. The shared closeness and the unspoken understanding between them added a layer of complexity to their relationship, creating a moment that transcended the boundaries of their initial arrangement. The cityscape witnessed the quiet beauty of their connection as they navigated the streets together, each step echoing the newfound depth in their evolving relationship.

Throughout the night, Lando struggled to keep his hands to himself. Somehow, his hands kept finding parts of her exposed skin. He had always admired and loved every aspect of her body – her curves, her hands – she was, in his mind, perfect. However, it was her kindness and compassion that he cherished the most. He just wanted to show her how special she was to him, to love her in a way she truly deserved.

In Lando's eyes, Natalie was an embodiment of beauty, both inside and out. Her physical features were complemented by the warmth and genuineness that radiated from her. Yet, she couldn't shake the awareness of her insecurities, a lingering effect of her past relationship. He wished she could see herself through his eyes, free from the shadows cast by her ex-boyfriend. The desire to make her feel cherished and adored fueled his restraint throughout the night, as he navigated the delicate balance of expressing his affection while being mindful of her comfort and past experiences.

They stop outside his apartment door and turn to face each other.

“That was lovely, thank you.” She says.

“It’s the least I could do.” He responds.

“What do you mean?” She asks, confused.

“You do so much for me and it never feels like I can give back to you.” He admits.

“I know of one way you can.” She teases.

“Yeah?” He curiously asks.

“Keep calling me baby.” She whispers, sultry and smooth.

“Oh, that’s just too easy.” He teases her. “But I‘m open to suggestions.”

Natalie giggles as Lando unlocks the door, allowing her to enter first and closely following her inside. The apartment, a familiar space, offers a sense of comfort and privacy. Natalie immediately takes off her heels, relishing the feeling of being flat on solid ground once again. Lando watches her with an appreciative gaze as she bends over to pick up her black heels. There's a natural grace to her movements, a fluidity that reveals the ease and comfort she feels in his presence.

Her short dress, a vibrant emerald green, offers just enough glimpses of skin to ignite a spark of desire in Lando. The way she moves around him, carefree and unguarded, captivates him in ways he finds both thrilling and comforting. As she bends over, there's a subtle allure that adds a layer of sensuality to the moment, leaving an indelible impression on Lando.

Aware of the rising tension, Lando turns away and distracts himself by switching on the TV. It's not the first time he's been captivated by her, his primal instincts occasionally surfacing. He's learned when to divert his gaze and clear his mind of those thoughts, maintaining a respectful boundary. However, tonight, the magnetic pull is stronger than usual, and he can't help but keep his eyes on her as she struts down the hallway to the bedroom, the emerald green dress enhancing every step with an irresistible allure.

He mindlessly flicks through the channels, but his eyes keep finding her. The soft glow of the television provides a subtle ambience, but his attention is drawn back to the hallway where Natalie's figure moves gracefully in the emerald green dress. Lando zoned out for a moment, lost in the subtle allure of the scene.

Before he realises, he feels a pair of hands running over his abs from behind. The touch interrupts his thoughts, and he turns around to find Natalie standing close, a playful and alluring smile on her lips.

“You seem a tad distracted.” Natalie mumbles against his back.

“Not more than usual.” He replies. “It’s difficult to focus on anything when you look the way you do.”

The heat rushes to Natalie's cheeks as her hands keep travelling up to his chest. The palpable tension between them intensifies, the warmth of her touch adding to the charged atmosphere.

“And, the way your eyes light up when you smile.” He adds.

One of her hands stays on his chest, feeling the rhythmic beat of his heart beneath her touch, while the other travels underneath his button-down shirt. Her nails trace shapes onto his skin, leaving a trail of sensation that ignites a cascade of shivers down his spine.

“And, the joy that escapes your lips when you laugh at my silly jokes.” Lando continues, his words carrying a fondness that mirrors the affectionate moments they've shared. Natalie, with deliberate slowness, starts unbuttoning his shirt from the bottom, revealing the contours of his chest inch by inch. “Or when you leave sweet kisses on my neck when you think I’ve fallen asleep.”

“I do not.” Natalie lies.

“Oh, but you do.” Lando retorts, his shirt completely unbuttoned now. The air in the room becomes charged with a mix of playfulness and desire. The gradual exposure of his chest accentuates the vulnerability of the moment. “And, when you hum your favourite songs in my ear when I can’t fall asleep.”

Lando turns Natalie around, softly pressing himself against the back of the couch. The air becomes charged with a palpable tension as his fingers gently and meticulously work to unzip the dress she has on. The room is filled with a quiet intensity, a merging of desire and vulnerability.

“And, when you bite your lip when you can’t get what you want.” Lando continues as he turns her to face him once again. The room is filled with a charged atmosphere, their banter seamlessly merging with the growing intensity of their connection. “Kind of like you are now.”

“Who says I can’t get what I want?” Natalie counters, a smirk forming on her pink lips.

“You can have everything you could possibly desire.” He informs her, his voice carrying a sincerity that reflects the depth of his feelings.“What do you want most, right now?”

“For you to shut up and kiss me.” She informs her, his voice carrying a sincerity that reflects the depth of his feelings.

“Of course, baby.” He melts as he presses his lips against hers. The kiss is a culmination of their unspoken desires, a moment that transcends the boundaries of their previous arrangement. He pulls away after a few seconds and just holds her in his arms.

“Be my girlfriend. Like my real girlfriend.” He says, his voice carrying a vulnerable sincerity.

“I thought you’d never ask.” Natalie whispers to him before they continue kissing, sealing the unspoken agreement between them.

At this moment, the transition from a fake relationship to a real one is marked by a shared understanding and a genuine connection that has blossomed.

---------------------------

Taglist: @noneofyourfbusinessworld @scopeiguess @tbsloneely

[bitchiswild]

Gifts

Jang Wonyoung x F! Reader

Warnings: fluff

Word Count: 1.3k

A/n: 🎁🎀

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Those words, whispered by Jang Wonyoung, had become a familiar refrain throughout our three years together. Her voice, a soft echo in the recesses of my mind, reassured me that within the realm of her affluence, my desires were boundless. 'I'll buy you anything your heart desires, honey,' she’d say, her eyes alive with a promise that seemed to defy the constraints of reality. It wasn’t just about material possessions; it was the unwavering devotion wrapped within those words. Her affectionate offer echoed a sentiment deeper than the glossy sheen of credit cards and luxury stores. It was her way of saying, 'Let me wrap you in comfort and joy, let me spoil you with the limitless bounds of our love.' Over time, these words had woven themselves into the fabric of our relationship, a comforting melody that resonated with both the extravagance of her wealth and the tenderness of her heart.

At first, Jang Wonyoung's tendency to spoil me felt unsettling. I feared the gifts would overshadow the essence of what truly mattered between us. I craved her presence, not the opulence her wealth could afford. Yet, she sensed my discomfort, her perceptive gaze recognizing my unease. It was in that vulnerability that our connection deepened, her understanding of my heart forging an unbreakable bond between us.

Christmas, particularly the last two years, transformed into a spectacle of opulence. Each meticulously chosen gift she bestowed upon me left me speechless, caught in a whirlwind of gratitude and awe. But in the midst of this lavish exchange, I found myself grappling with a challenge – finding the perfect gift for Wonyoung. Her declaration that she lacked desires, owning the means to acquire whatever she pleased, made the hunt for a meaningful gift an uphill task. How do you find a present for someone who seemingly possesses everything?

In the quiet intimacy of our late-night rendezvous, Jang Wonyoung's whispered confessions floated through the air like delicate notes of a secret symphony. 'I want to marry you, I want to start a family with you,' her tender words, uttered in hushed tones, wove a tapestry of dreams in the silence of our shared moments. She believed I slumbered, unaware of her heartfelt declarations, yet each syllable nestled within my consciousness, igniting an effervescent symphony in my chest. Her whispered desires, spoken in the tender cloak of the night, painted a vivid picture of our shared future, each word a brushstroke adding hues of hope and longing to the canvas of our love.

The clandestine beauty of her aspirations stirred a whirlwind of emotions within me. Joy danced alongside uncertainty, the weight of her earnest desires embracing my heart like a comforting embrace. To know that she harbored such aspirations, to envision a life entwined with hers in both the quiet whispers of night and the vivid light of day, sent my heart on a galloping journey, chasing the thrill of a future painted in the colors of our intertwined destinies.

As the countdown to Christmas commenced, a tradition unique to our relationship unfurled—Wonyoung’s extraordinary '12 Days of Giving.' Each morning, a new surprise awaited me, meticulously curated treasures that reflected her keen attention to my desires. She had an uncanny ability to discern my preferences, the items I had merely glanced at or wistfully admired, and transformed them into tangible tokens of her affection.

With a discerning eye for detail, Wonyoung orchestrated her grand gestures through her adept assistant, swiftly turning my fleeting interests into lavish presents. The procession of gifts was nothing short of a spectacle: designer bags that had once lingered in the corners of my imagination, a gleaming car that mirrored my dream ride, exquisite jewelry that sparkled with her insight into my tastes, and then, a surreal climax—keys to a new house, a testament to her boundless generosity.

Each day brought forth a new manifestation of her devotion. The opulence wasn’t simply a display of her wealth; it was an artful expression of her understanding of my desires. From luxurious clothes that hugged my form to tickets granting passage to the azure beauty of Greece, the 12 days unfolded as a symphony of thoughtfulness and opulence, an extravaganza that dazzled not only with its grandeur but with the depth of affection woven into every carefully chosen gift.

As the sun rose on Christmas morning, the air was thick with anticipation and warmth. 'Open it, honey,' Wonyoung’s voice, soft and tender, carried a symphony of love as I cradled a small box in my hands, its contents an enigmatic delight. With trembling fingers, I untied the ribbon, and in a burst of joy, a lively puppy sprang out, his tail wagging in gleeful abandon. 'You didn’t, Wonyoung!' I gasped, my heart brimming with surprise and overwhelming delight. Her laughter, a melody that painted the room, filled the spaces between us. 'You’ve wanted one for a while, and I thought it was time to begin our little family,' she explained, her eyes sparkling with a tenderness that wrapped around my heart like a warm embrace.

'What should we name him?' she asked, and in that moment, amidst the excitement, a name echoed in my mind. '(You pick a name),' I suggested. '(Name),' Wonyoung echoed softly, her smile reflecting the shared joy in our newfound companion. As the puppy nestled between us, a ribbon caught Wonyoung’s eye, and to our astonishment, a glimmering diamond ring dangled from it. My breath hitched, my heart raced, and before I could fathom what was happening, Wonyoung knelt down, her eyes shimmering with emotions that mirrored my own.

Slipping the ring from the puppy’s collar, she held it out to me. Tears welled in my eyes, a rush of emotions cascading through my soul. 'Y/n, my love, you mean everything to me. You're my sunshine on the darkest days, and I want to spend every moment with you, creating a future filled with love and laughter. Will you marry me?' Her voice quivered with the weight of her emotions. 'Yes,' I whispered, my voice trembling as I extended my hand to her. Pulling me into her embrace, she tenderly placed the ring on my finger, sealing our love with a promise that echoed through our souls. Our lips met in a soft, tender kiss, a celebration of the moment that would forever mark this Christmas morning as the most cherished in our journey together.

As the warmth of our kiss lingered, I eased away, a soft smile gracing my lips. "I have a present for you too," I whispered, my voice quivering with excitement. Wonyoung's eyes shimmered with curiosity and affection. "But why, love? I have everything right here," she replied, her arms embracing me and our playful puppy. "This gift will make us even stronger, complete our story," I assured her, my gaze locked tenderly with hers, brimming with emotion.

"Alright, show me," she said eagerly, her excitement contagious. Handing her the small, delicately wrapped box, I felt a rush of anticipation tinged with nerves. My knees shook slightly, and Wonyoung, sensing my unease, reached out, her touch a soothing balm to my anxiousness. "Whatever it is, it's perfect because it's from you," she reassured me, her eyes radiating trust and boundless love.

The moment stretched, pregnant with anticipation, as Wonyoung carefully undid the ribbon and lifted the lid of the box. Her gasp echoed in the room, her eyes widening in disbelief. The box slipped from her trembling hands, clattering softly to the floor. Tears welled in my eyes, mirroring the emotion that glistened in hers. "We're going to be parents?" she breathed, her voice quivering with a mix of surprise and overwhelming joy. "Yes, my love, we are," I managed to say, my heart swelling with happiness.

Wonyoung enveloped me in a fierce embrace, her tears mingling with mine, dampening my shirt. "I was right, this is the most precious gift, especially because it’s from you. It’s perfect in every way," she whispered, her touch on my face an expression of pure love and gratitude. "Merry Christmas, Wony," I murmured softly. "Merry Christmas indeed," she replied, pulling me into another tender kiss, sealing the moment with a promise of an extraordinary future filled with boundless love and the joy of a growing family.

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[jackalmeat]

One of my favorite little understated illustrations of the pains Viktor takes to keep others at a distance when he's struggling is his way of addressing Sky Young.

He says her name on only two occasions over the course of the season: the first when he bids her good night in the lab, and the second when he calls out to her in a panic as he realizes that she's been consumed by the Hexcore. The first time we hear him say her name, it's polite but impersonal -- 'Miss Young'. The second time though, it's an instinctive, hysterical 'Sky!'

And it only becomes clear that 'Sky' is probably how he usually addresses her, as opposed to 'Miss Young', when we see him default to it in this moment of tragedy and scrambled emotion. Which in turn retroactively suggests that his earlier use of 'Miss Young' was a more purposeful snub than might have been evident at first glance.

It's easy to handwave, "Well, 'Sky' is shorter and less formal, so it makes sense that in a panic he'd just blurt out whatever name was faster to say!"........except for the fact that that doesn't really make sense. Or rather, that's simply not how stressed, disoriented brains tend to work. If you're accustomed to calling someone "A" in your usual dealings, it's unlikely that you'll spontaneously be compelled to switch to the less familiar "B" in a moment of extreme emotion, precisely because that's the kind of finnicky little decision that our brains really suck at making under duress. Instead, the brain (and subsequently the mouth) is much more likely to leap to the name that's the most familiar and natural.

Point being: 'Sky' is likely the form of address that Viktor is most accustomed to using with her, since that's where his mouth immediately defaults when the chips are down.

Follow-up point being: if the above is true and 'Sky' is his typical way of referring to her, then that also suggests that it was a wholly conscious decision on his part to instead address her like this--

--in the earlier scene where she encouraged him to step away from his work for the night and spend a little bit of friendly, low-stakes time with her. The dismissal here is two-fold, emphasizing both physical distance (declining her invitation to walk home together) and emotional distance (referring to her in a polite but decidedly less personal way than is suggested to be his usual). If we assume that he indeed usually addresses her simply as 'Sky', then his choice to revert to 'Miss Young' at this particular moment would have been all the more marked to her, and would probably have had about the same effect as if he'd literally closed a door directly in her face.

(Which would also explain why her eyes immediately go distinctly tearful in response to this line. She isn't merely disappointed that the man she admires and cares about is choosing to keep working rather than walk home with her. She's hurt because, in just a couple of pointedly polite words, Viktor has essentially drawn a boundary around himself and let her know, 'I'm not interested in getting personal in the way that you're asking me to do. Back up. Stay behind the line, please.')

Regardless of whether you believe that Viktor is aware of Sky's romantic feelings for him or not, he's absolutely aware of the fact that she's inviting him to spend a little time with her not simply as a coworker, but as a companion. She's inviting him to make a human connection -- and he refuses it by rejecting both the invitation itself as well as the basic intimacy of even using her name. Not just ignoring the figurative outstretched hand, but actively pushing it away from him; and doing so not because he's cruel, lacking empathy, or dismissive of her, but because the walls are closing in on him, and 'alone' is what he knows when it comes to dealing with his own problems.