#it sounded like it was kind of supposed to be an important part of the movie but they never actually… said it?? like.

[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (1 - Honey! I shrunk the kids! 18+)

Summary: Wanda accidentally shrinks your kids while trying out a spell that would benefit both of you in the bedroom; Jimmy and Darcy attempt to find out more about the Hex, particularly when they discover a remarkable detail about you. Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 3k+ | Tags: Smut, Campy Humor, Language

A/N: I've been working on this series since late August and have finally figured out what to do with it, enough to share it with you all. The story will be told in three parts: Westview (The Missing Town), Pre-Westview, and Post-Westview. This follows some events in WandaVision, but it's very canon-divergent. It's going to be different from my other works (I've never written humor before and I'm quite insecure about that), as this one is very plot-driven but at the same time, still very much Wanda x Reader (especially in parts 2 and 3). Updates will be every Wednesday. Chapters will be 2.5–3.5k words long, except for the ending chapters of each part, which are twice as long. So, without further ado… More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

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“Honey! I shrunk the kids!” 

Wanda bursts into the basement, apron billowing out like a cape. Except, there's no draft down here; that apron shouldn't be moving like that at all. But then again, considering your wife’s claim, maybe the laws of physics are taking a day off.

You glance up from the miniature model home you’re meticulously working on, unsure if you heard her right. Did she really just say that? 

“You what?”

Wanda, flushed and a little breathless, skids to a stop in front of you. “Okay, so I was experimenting with a new spell, one that was supposed to…” She bites her lip, hesitating, her face glowing a deeper shade of red. “...it was supposed to do something else, but it backfired and... well, it’s not important right now!”

“Jesus, Wanda.”

Your poor, beautiful, occasionally clumsy wife stands there, teetering between a freak-out and a fit of giggles. 

“It was an accident! I didn't mean to!” Wanda shrieks, causing the room to tremble from her panic.

Wanda's powers have always been a wildcard. You can child-proof the entire house in a day, but that definitely doesn't cover child-proofing Wanda herself—especially not when your kids are involved. Luckily, the boys have inherited some special abilities of their own, which leaves you as the sole non-superpowered member of the household. With that in mind, you know better than to panic. Getting worked up alongside her would only escalate things, and you’re not exactly keen on being shrunk next.

“Okay…where are they now?” you ask as calmly as you can manage.

Wanda takes a deep breath and leads you to the living room. You trail her in silence, clutching at composure. It can’t be that bad, right? The distant sound of playful music trickling through the house almost makes it seem like everything’s fine. You hadn’t really noticed it before, but now that you think about it, it’s like your brain has learned to associate that kind of tune with situations that somehow always end in collective sighs of relief.

Sighs, giggles, and applause—sounds that don't belong to Wanda or the boys.

Where are they coming from?

Before your mind can completely sink into the oddities of your life here in Westview, Wanda halts in the middle of the living room. Your eyes dart around, searching for Billy and Tommy, but they’re nowhere to be seen.

“Where?”

“Right there,” Wanda points toward the coffee table, her finger trembling slightly.

You squint in the direction she’s pointing. Next to the TV remote, two tiny figures wave up at you—your sons, each about the size of your thumb.

“Oh my god, they’re tiny!” you gasp, covering your mouth with your hand. You expected them to be at least half their normal size—a size they might grow out of eventually.

“Shhhh, Y/N!” Wanda hisses, pressing her index finger to her lips. “The neighbors might hear you.”

Neighbors. Which usually means just Agnes from next door. There’s literally several meters of spaces between your houses, but somehow, she always manages to hear things she shouldn’t and pries like she’s in some perfectly timed routine.

Wanda kneels by the coffee table, her eyes soft. “I told them to stay right there until we sorted this out.”

The twins start making noises, sounding like tiny bells, though still hard to make out. You pull out a magnifying glass from your back pocket—has that been there the whole time?—making sure your sons are okay. As soon as the lenses zoom in on their faces, you're relieved to see them laughing uproariously, seemingly unbothered by their predicament.

“They seem... happy?” you say, lowering the magnifying glass.

“They think it's hilarious,” Wanda grumbles, her lips curling into a pout.

“So,” you sigh, pushing yourself to your feet. “Any ideas on how to fix this?”  You're tempted to suggest just letting it run its course, waiting for the spell to fizzle out, but you know Wanda wouldn’t go for that. She's fiercely protective of the twins, and you can't blame her—it’s all her handiwork, after all.

Then you hear it—a hiccup. Another follows, and then another, each one a little louder than the last.

Before you know it, Wanda's a sobbing mess.

You cup her face in your hands. “Hey, hey...it’s okay,” you murmur, gently brushing away a tear with your thumb.

Wanda’s breath hitches as she looks at you, her eyes brimming with worry. “What if I can’t fix it?”

“We will,” you promise, looking into her eyes.

A collective ‘awww’ rings in your ears, pulling you out of the moment. What the hell—where did that come from? You've had this creepy feeling of being watched lately, and it's only getting worse.

Wanda brings you back to focus when she nuzzles into your palm. “Oh, Y/N, I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You give her a small, lopsided grin and plant a kiss on her forehead. “Good thing you’ll never have to find out.” Something passes over her eyes as soon as you say it, but it vanishes in a split-second, replaced by a moment of inspiration.

“Wait,” she bursts out, stepping away from your embrace. “I think I have an idea.”

She heads straight for the fridge, and you trail after her, holding your breath.

“I’ve been trying to reverse it, but my magic isn’t cooperating. It’s like... it’s tangled,” Wanda mutters, yanking things out of the fridge.

You scowl, arms crossed, watching her. “Tangled? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. The more I try to fix it, the worse it gets. Like it has a life of its own,” she says. she says. After a few more seconds of rummaging, Wanda finally grabs a tetra pack of chocolate milk—the twins' favorite.

“I’m hoping this will do the trick,” she says, giving the carton a shake.

You cock your head, clueless on what’s going on. “Honey, what’s going on?”

Wanda mumbles, barely glancing up as she vigorously shakes the carton. “Just doing what it says—’Shake well before serving.’”

You roll your eyes, muttering, “This woman...”. Then louder, you ask, “I mean, what’s the chocolate got to do with our tiny children?”

Wanda stops mid-shake, a look of realization dawning on her face. “Oh, right,” she slaps her forehead. “You can’t read minds. I keep forgetting,” she chuckles, setting down the carton with a sheepish grin.

There it is again—a chorus of laughter from somewhere far off. Your mouth twitches at the sound—it’s really starting to get on your nerves. You make a mental note to bring it up with Wanda later.

Wanda gathers herself, then pitches her plan. “Instead of directly casting a spell on the twins, I think it’s safer to enchant this chocolate milk.” She picks up the carton again, giving it a final shake. “The idea is to infuse the milk with a spell that will gradually restore them to their normal sizes.”

You nod, beginning to understand what she’s trying to do. “Sounds less risky than zapping them with more magic head on.”

“Exactly,” she agrees, her eyes lighting up with excitement. You’d swear she’s getting a kick out of this macabre parenting hack—kids and all. The background tune keeps playing, like a promise that the universe won’t let things turn to shit. You’re wondering if maybe Wanda hears it too.

“This way, the magic is diluted and can adjust more naturally with their systems. It’s like... sneaking the cure into their bodies,” she says, snapping her fingers, red swirls of magic emanating from them to the carton of milk.

“I'm so proud of you, baby,” you say, leaning in for a quick kiss which she happily accepts. “For finding a fix, I mean. The whole shrinking our kids thing? Still not great.”

–

“What kind of spell do you think Wanda was going for?” Darcy asks, her eyes fixed on the credits rolling across the screen before it fades to black. She’s really gotten into Wanda’s little show, a welcome distraction from the freezing depths of hell that is New Jersey in November. Though exciting things are finally happening to her, the timing couldn't be worse. 

“No clue,” Jimmy mutters, his attention glued to the laptop in front of him. It’s been two days since Quantico sent him to look into the bizarre case of a missing town—a phenomenon almost unheard of in the 21st century. Upon arriving, they discovered that the town in question, Westview, was enveloped by some sort of anomaly—or a Hex, as Darcy has started calling it, referring to the hexagonal shape of the barrier encasing the town. 

Around the same time as the discovery, S.W.O.R.D. agent Monica Rambeau was quite literally sucked into the anomaly by accident. The only breakthrough has been Darcy Lewis’ detection of the signals, providing them with a window into the mysterious shroud, even helping them identify some of the show's characters as actual residents of the town.

But overall, they're still desperately trying to piece together why this is happening and how to stop it.

Darcy peeks over at the data on Jimmy’s screen. “Find anything new?”

Jimmy sighs in frustration. “No, not really. Everything we dig up just adds more questions instead of answers.”

“Like what, for instance?”

Instead of answering directly, he slides a thick file across the table toward her. “See for yourself.”

Darcy catches the file and starts flipping through it. Murmuring, she says, “So, Google finally returned search results?” The stack of papers is downright daunting. Jimmy’s right—any mountain of information would raise more questions than answers.

“No, not Google,” Jimmy corrects her. “Stark's highly confidential database did. The woman Wanda's married to in Westview? She’s not in any public records. Turns out her records were wiped clean two years ago.”

Darcy looks up, puzzled. “Why would Stark's company have this?”

“Just read, Darcy. It’s all in there,” he says, turning his full attention back to his research.

Darcy frowns slightly and begins scanning through the pages more attentively. It takes her a few minutes to piece together the information she's reading, with her mind going in different directions and still burning with curiosity about the spell Wanda botched.

Finally, she reads aloud, somewhat incredulously, “Subject was recognized as S.H.I.E.L.D.'s youngest marksmanship prodigy prior to recruitment by Stark Industries following the dissolution of S.H.I.E.L.D.. Subsequently provided tactical support on multiple classified operations in conjunction with the Avengers initiative.”

She sets the file down thoughtfully. “Kinda reminds me a bit of Romanoff or Barton. Total badass. I hadn’t pegged Maximoff for that crowd.”

“What crowd did you have Wanda filed under?” Jimmy asks, just out of curiosity.

Darcy’s gaze drifts off, a dreamy smirk on her lips. “Honestly? I always pictured her—or anyone for that matter—swooning over someone more…mythical hammer than tactical espionage.”

Jimmy snorts to himself at Darcy's whimsical take and says, “Of course, you’d say that. Thor's everyone's type.”

“He’s yours too?”

“Yeah, why not,” Jimmy shrugs, his tone more reluctant than sarcastic, which only amuses Darcy more.

“So,” Darcy begins, “Wanda's settled down in New Jersey, married to a woman? I mean, good for her. They all deserve a break. Maybe even an early retirement.”

Jimmy lets out a long, tired sigh, like he's just about done with everything. Darcy notices and raises an eyebrow. “What now?”

He barely glances up. “Like I said, everything’s in there. Just keep reading.”

Darcy groans but goes back to the file, flipping through the pages again. She’s about to make a snarky comment when something catches her attention—something that has her eyes practically popping out of their sockets.

“It… it says here Y/N’s dead.”

“That’s right,” Jimmy responds without missing a beat.

“Not snapped five years ago. Dead-dead.”

“Yep.”

Darcy stares at the page, disbelief all over her face. “That can’t be right, can it?”

Jimmy finally swivels his chair to face her, looking as tired as he sounds. “That’s what I’ve been trying to wrap my head around for hours. If aliens and superheroes are real, maybe bringing someone back from the dead to star in a sitcom isn’t so far-fetched, right?”

–

You carefully pull the blankets up over Billy, smoothing his hair and whispering a soft good night. Tommy’s already half-asleep, but you make sure to tuck him in just as snugly, brushing a kiss on his forehead. Wanda stands in the doorway, watching you, her heart swelling in her chest. You were so clueless when she first had the twins, but now, being a mother just seems to come naturally to you. 

And you pulled it off in a week, while the twins stretched into six-year-olds just as fast.

“Honey,” you call softly, noticing the way she’s lost in thought. “Aren’t you going to say good night to our boys?”

Wanda steps into the room, giving each of the boys their good night kiss. You pucker your lips, silently asking for your turn, and she playfully swats your arm, whispering, “Not here, baby.”

You pout, giving her your best puppy-dog eyes, which only makes her smile. Without warning, you grab her hand and hurriedly pull her out of the boys' room, making a beeline for your bedroom. Wanda’s laughter fills the hallway, and just as you reach the door, you suddenly sweep her off the ground, lifting her into your arms.

Wanda lets out a shriek, her laughter infectious, and you can’t help but grin, even as you let her thump onto the mattress—a sloppy, graceless drop. You follow her onto the bed, rolling onto your stomach to peer down at her, still sporting that stupid smile.

“So, about that kiss you owe me,” you whisper, hovering closer, teasing her with your proximity.

Wanda nods distractedly. “I think I can manage that,” she murmurs, and then her lips are on yours.

It starts simple and sweet. Though soon, her tongue is gently nudging your lips apart, and it quickly becomes anything but. Her hands slip down to your back, pulling you close until her heartbeat hammering against yours. You break away, lips trailing down to her neck, exploring every dip and hollow, your tongue darting out to taste her skin. When you hit that spot just behind her ear, the one that always drives her wild, she gasps.

“Don't start something you can’t finish,” she warns, her voice already thick with want.

“Who says I won't?” you shoot back with a wolfish grin.

You both fall into a familiar routine, as easy to slip into as the back of your hand. There’s no hurry, just the two of you moving languidly—whispering against skin, giggles turning into sighs and breathy moans. Sometimes, being with Wanda feels like a desperate need, as if not having her completely would literally be the end of you. But it’s moments like these that are your favorite—the ones where you’re barely even trying, yet she still comes apart at your touch, at the mere feeling of your fingers on her. 

Eventually, you both settle down, a contented sigh escaping you as you curl up against Wanda, your skin slightly damp with the effort of your love. You like this, being the little spoon, hiding your face in her neck like you’re hiding from the world, though you vaguely recall a time when it was usually her in your arms. 

As you’re staggering on the edge of sleep, Wanda’s fingers gently massage your scalp, her lips dropping soft, pensive kisses on your forehead. You're almost out, but one last question keeps you from drifting off entirely.

“Wanda, that spell earlier that shrunk the boys—what was that about?” you mumble, your words slurring into the dream nipping at your consciousness.

Wanda’s laughter rumbles through her chest, nudging you slightly from your drowsy state.

“Come on, tell me,” you coax, giving her side a playful pinch to keep her talking.

“It’s embarrassing,” she mumbles, her face turning a delightful shade of pink again that spreads down her neck and chest. Her coy reaction wakes you up some more. As a twisted kind of payback, you run your tongue rough over her nipple, snatching a sharp gasp from her. Moving up, you hold her flushed cheek, making sure she’s looking right at you. Your thigh presses between hers, and it doesn’t take long before she’s wet and ready again.

“Are you going to tell me, or do you plan on sleeping with a wet pussy tonight?” you whisper, brushing your lips against the corner of her mouth. Under different circumstances, Wanda would scold you for your crudeness, but right now, she's too worked up to care. Your dirty mouth has always been one of the most irritating yet irresistible things about you. Even having kids hasn’t changed that.

“I was trying to... enchant your...” she starts, but then your hand tightens on her butt, spurring her subtle grinding movements. By this time, she’s practically dripping onto the sheets, her thoughts scattering as the tightening sensation below her stomach builds.

“My what?” you push, smirking as you watch her fumble for words. You hoist her leg, resting it on your shoulder, laying her wide open. You slide two fingers inside her, fucking her slowly while your thumb brutally circles her clit. As she hesitates to answer, you hook in another finger, drawing a sharp cry of pleasure from Wanda. Your gaze stays locked on your wife, a part of you as surprised as she might be at your boldness tonight.

All day, she’s haunted every corner of your mind, fantasizing about stealing a quick, desperate moment while the twins are asleep or at Agnes’s. But there’s been something—an unnameable restraint—holding you back from indulging those wicked impulses. It isn’t until the boys are asleep, the house quiet, that those invisible chains start to loosen. That’s when you can finally allow yourself to desire Wanda the way you really want to. The way you’ve always been meant to.

“Your... clit,” Wanda finally spits out, seeing you've drifted off, stuck in your head. “I thought I could make it... well, longer. Like a...” She chokes on the words, too embarrassed to finish.

“Like a cock?” you throw out crudely, looking down at her impishly.

Wanda nods, mortified but also a little defiant. “Wanted you to fuck me with it,” she mumbles, finding her backbone now that the secret's in the open.

“I am fucking you,” you whisper hotly right into her ear. “But if you want it like that, all you have to do is say the word.”

Wanda clenches around you at the thought of doing it like that in the near future, her breath hitching. “Please,” she mewls, the word dripping with need. 

“Good girl,” you growl, cranking up the pace as you drive your fingers harder inside her, making her gasp and arch towards you. “You can come.”

With a choked whimper, Wanda surrenders, her body seizing as her orgasm washes over her. She soaks your wrist, the clear fluid trickling down onto the sheets, but you don't stop, pushing through every pulse of her release until she's quaking, utterly wrecked beneath you. You patiently wait until her spasms subside before slowly pulling your fingers away.

Wanda's hand shoots out, stopping your movements. “Stay,” she implores, sounding like she's on the verge of tears. You're momentarily startled by her reaction, concerned something might be wrong. Swiftly, you slide your fingers back where they belong, nestled deep inside her.

“Okay, baby, I’m not going anywhere,” you murmur, pushing back the damp strands of hair sticking to her forehead with your free hand. Exhaustion begins to cloud your senses as you sink down beside Wanda, still keeping your hand where she wants it. 

“I'm sorry for needing you so much,” Wanda murmurs, her voice shaky with tears you can't see, your cheek pressed against the pillow beside hers.

“Don't be,” you mumble, half-lost to sleep as she clings to you more tightly. “I’m here.”

“You love me,” she says, a hint of wonder, of fear.

You nod, lips brushing the nape of her neck. “And you love me,” you murmur back, your eyes slipping shut. “I'm not going anywhere, Wanda.”

“For now,” she whispers to herself, once your breathing evens out in sleep.

Tears betray her then, and she clamps a hand over her mouth to keep quiet. But just before her sobs fully break free, she flicks a finger, a thin red wisp of magic ensuring you stay deep in sleep.

With you unaware, Wanda surrenders to her grief.

[buddiesmutslut]

Thought I was watching a spooky movie about gorgeous queer female vampires with traumatic backstories murder shitty men and feed and take over the world as they should & instead, it ended up being about… complicated family dynamics & how being a man doesn’t automatically make you a shitty person??????? I think????

Idrk but it’s NOT WHAT I WATCH VAMPIRE MOVIES FOR. That ending was such a bummer, it literally started out like it was about how shitty it was to be a woman sometimes & the fear & all the complexities that come along with that & somehow, it still ended up being about men wtf.

[22degreehalo]

Okay so a LOT of people have responded to my Barbie post so I really should be reading through all that first (but scawy) but I finally put something into words in my head

Every single man in the Barbie movie is a comic relief character. A pitiable, at least slightly pathetic, idiot.

Now. That is exactly the sort of thing that conservative commentators would point to to say that the movie hates men. And the Barbie fan's response, of course, would be that men deserve to be ridiculed, and that the movie isn't coddling them, and that men are acting like whiny babies for not being taken seriously when women never get that.

But I have the opposite take. The men all fit into that 'loveable himbo bumbling dad' type archetype. The relatable ordinary everyday man. The dummy who somehow manages to bag a hyper-competent 10/10 girlfriend in every Adam Sandler movie.

Yes, in many ways the idea of men having emotions is mocked; but also, the men get to be funny. There's a reason everyone posts memes about Ken and Kenergy and stuff over anything Barbie says. He's the fun one!

In that sense... the movie doesn't feel like it's reversing or parodying or commentating on anything at all. It's just bog standard gender roles in television: women are Closer To Earth and don't need to change much, but are pretty static and boring, while men are weird and funny and likeable and changeable, able to be bad but able to be redeemed, at the cost of having their more nuanced and sensitive emotions cheapened.

I wondered if it was meant to relate to the commentary at the end: that women HAVE to be perfect, and aren't allowed to make mistakes and be forgiven. But then in that case... why don't the women get to be funny, too? To anywhere near the same degree? Why doesn't the Barbie movie show us a silly, ridiculous, loveable himbo of a woman?

Why doesn't any woman actually get to do bad things and have them taken seriously? They complain about having to act perfect all the time... but are they not? When do we actually see those faults and failures, aside from as a result of 'burdened by the expectations of society' which of course is actually society's fault and not theirs? Barbie complains in the end about not really being good at anything, and that's good! But she still doesn't seem bad at anything, either. And nobody ever so much as implies that the way she treated those societally considered Lesser to her was actually pretty shitty.

The biggest difference between the way we portray women vs men in media, to me, is the idea of internal conflict and change. Women tend to just exist as they are, only impacted by external forces. They don't make conscious decisions to do things, or have their minds change, or grow into something different. They just ARE, flat characters.

Men, meanwhile, get to be tormented. Get to decide to work harder and then ultimately prove themselves. Get to be tempted by bad people, and make bad decisions, but ultimately show that they are capable of trying and working hard and doing better. It's not so much that men are allowed to be bad, as that men are allowed to consist of multitudes. Women usually just have to be one thing, and that's it.

And who is it who changes the most over the course of the movie? Who gets the big internal shift? Who has their understanding of reality challenged, and is affected by it, and makes decisions based on that, and faces the consequences of those decisions, and then ultimately decides to reverse things? It's Ken. It's just Ken.

I don't think it's super bad or regressive that Barbie starts out in an existential crisis and then just sorta ends that way. I think that's actually insightful, that mental illness can't so easily be overcome, that sometimes you really are changed by something and then can never make things 'normal' again.

But it's often pointed out that the relationship between the real-world mother and daughter never really sorta... goes very far. They disagree, but then the daughter shows sympathy to her mother, and that's pretty much it. We don't see much real change or conflict or true acrimony between them. We don't get a sense for internal thought processes. Of course, they're just side characters. But it adds to the whole of the movie and what the writers are comfortable doing with male vs female characters.

That the men are treated like babies for having feelings (despite being the oppressed group, in most cases here) is... discomfiting. But the sympathetic ending really does feel like a result of us only really being comfortable telling stories about men acting badly and being redeemed. Seen another way, yeah: men are allowed to act like babies and be forgiven. Barbie doesn't have the courage to do the same for women, even while decrying that same ideology. Not even at the very end.

Surely there has to be a better way to do this? Surely we can tell a story about women being expected to be perfect without them all actually being mostly flawless and Normal? Surely we can tell a story about the things men really struggle with, their problems that aren't taken seriously, without mocking all of them but then sighing and shrugging and going 'welll but we should be nice anyway :)'

[testostergnomes]

Tags courtesy of @streetsandsodiumlights

Mom they're gentrifying disco elysium

[star-anise]

I always feel kind of uneasy when people who are apologizing say, "I don't even know who the person who did that was. They feel like a totally different person from who I really am."

Sweetie, I'm sorry, but you have to get to know that person. If this person you apparently detest on every level just occasionally hijacks your body and does something awful, your understanding of how and when and why that happens is essential to your ability to promise anyone else that they won't be on the receiving end of that.

It might sound a little backward, that the key to avoiding destructive behaviour is not forcibly repressing that detestable energy inside yourself. You can deny those feelings and force them into exile, but they're going to come back and take over sometime in the future when your defences are down.

If self-loathing actually got shit done, I'd still be in favour of it. Unfortunately, it's only good at satisfying emotions in the short run, so you can really feel like you're putting in serious effort. It's not a winning strategy if you want to genuinely change your behaviour or thought patterns or emotional responses.

Self-reflection is not supposed to be a lesson in flagellating yourself. It is more brutal and gentler, because it rakes over the twisted shards of what happened in your mind with the dispassion of an engineer assessing a bridge collapse and says, "What really happened here? How can we prevent it from happening again in the future?"

It's possible to get to know your shadow, but not be consumed by it. You could eventually feel able to turn over the rocks in your brain, and catalogue and understand all the things squirming beneath. The shame won't kill you.

And being able to understand your triggers and tells, spotting your brain taking off before it's completely left atmosphere, is an incredibly important part of that.

[aquaticmercy]

In Another Life

Summary : Bucky is certain you only see him as a friend. It only took him travelling to a different reality to realise otherwise.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x Reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : slight cursing, very slight suggestion of sex, Yelena being a third wheel, and multiversal travel!!!

Requested by : anon

Word count : 3.9k

Note : This was really fun to write. And yes, I slipped Yelena into this because I can. Enjoy!

Requests are open!

○ buy me a ko-fi ○

“I’ll miss you,” you mumbled as Bucky handed you a knife to sharpen. As he sat there in your living room, the evening light reflected on your curtains, casting a soft shadow across his face. You sat next to him, shoulder to shoulder, so close yet not quite close enough. He had asked if he could come over the day before his mission, claiming he needed help sharpening his knives. He has said ‘no one sharpens knives as good as you’. To some degree, you both knew it wasn’t the only reason he was here.

“Weren’t we supposed to see that new World War II exhibit at the museum tomorrow?” you asked, your voice riddled with a tinge of disappointment.

“We were,” Bucky admitted, his gaze dropping to the floor. If there was one thing he hated, it was letting you down, especially over a mission he couldn’t refuse.

“Who does Strange think he is anyway— that lunatic wizard?” you quipped, with a little gossipy tone. “Showing up at your doorstep and just… demanding you drop everything last minute?”

A small smile tugged at Bucky’s lips, enjoying this sassy part of you. “It's a bit annoying, but I can’t exactly turn him down.” 

You sighed, leaning back against the couch as you worked. “What’s so important that he needs you and Yelena for, anyway? This isn't one of those ‘end of the world’ things, is it?”

Strange had basically asked him to commit theft, and not just any theft— he wanted Bucky to steal something from a multiversal variant of himself in another reality.

Still, Strange had made it sound urgent. It would be most obvious to partner him with you, since you were proven to work well together, but you had just returned from another mission in Antarctica. Both Bucky and Strange knew you needed time to recover.

That left Yelena and Sam. Sam, with his unmovable sense of duty, would’ve questioned every detail and repercussion. He was growing more and more into his Captain America mantle, and that wasn’t a bad thing— it was just inconvenient sometimes. Yelena, on the other hand, would do what needed to be done and ask fewer questions, which was why Strange approached her instead.

If the mission worked out, Bucky would have earned himself a favour owed by one of the most powerful sorcerers in the world. That was a card he couldn’t afford to pass up.

Bucky hesitated, feeling the familiar weight of secrets settle on his shoulders. “It’s classified,” he finally said, which was technically true. He didn’t want to trigger your anxieties with the details, especially when he didn’t fully understand the whole multiverse mess himself. 

You gave a small nod. You’d been around the hero-type for so long to know there were things you weren’t always allowed to know. Even though you were laser-focused on sharpening another knife, you could tell something was off.

“Are you okay?” you asked, watching his fingers dance along one of the blades, tension flowing through his body like a wave he cannot tame. 

He didn’t answer immediately, but you could see the conflicting spark in his eyes. He didn’t mind the danger. But the multiverse, something that was so unknown to him? That was a different kind of fear. 

He didn’t want to leave things unsaid with you. Not when there was a chance he might not come back.

He called your name softly. “Can I talk to you?”

There was something in the way your name left his lips that made your chest tighten. Bucky wasn’t the nervous type—not with you, anyway. Your hands stilled on the sharpening stone. “Of course,” you said, setting the tools aside.

He took a deep breath, glancing down at his hands, gathering the courage to speak. “You mean a lot to me,” he started, his voice low but steady. 

Your heart skipped a beat. Bucky’s hands reached out to gently clasp yours, the cool metal was a sharp contrast to the warmth of his human hand. It was such a Bucky thing to do, to find a simple, human way to connect, even as he struggled with the mechanical parts of him.

“I need to tell you—” 

A loud, insistent knock thundered the door, startling both of you. Bucky’s fingers slipped from yours as you turned towards the sound.

“Yelena!” you exclaimed, standing up. 

“Yelena?” Bucky echoed, blinking in confusion. 

“Did I not tell you?” you asked, biting your lip. “When you asked if you could come over, I asked if she needed her knives sharpened too. She did, so I invited her. I hope that’s okay?”

Bucky’s heart sank, but he forced himself an unreadable expression. Of course, You’d invited someone else. Maybe it wasn’t the right time to say what he wanted to say, if it ever was. In fact, maybe this was a sign to never tell you. 

You invited Yelena, your friend. Which probably meant he was also a friend—just a friend. It probably meant you would never see him as something more.

Before he could respond, you were already at the door, revealing the deadly assassin packed into a 5 '4 vessel of human fury. She gave you a sisterly smile in greeting before her eyes landed on Bucky.

“Hello, Bucky,” she said, her russian accent a little too cheerful as she dropped a heavy duffel bag on the wooden floor with an echoing thud. 

“Yelena,” Bucky replied, somewhat coldly. He didn’t dislike Yelena. He knew better than to make an enemy of her. Besides, they had saved each other’s life before. But at that moment, he resented her. 

He resented that she had unknowingly interrupted something he might never get the chance to finish. 

“Drink?” you offered, already heading towards the kitchen. 

“Just water,” Yelena shrugged, flopping down into the armchair with the casual confidence of someone who could kill you with both hands behind her back. As you left the room, Yelena turned her mischievous gaze to Bucky, her lips curling into a knowing smirk. 

“I’m not third-wheeling today, am I?” she teased, pulling out a couple of dull knives and placing them on the table in front of her. 

Bucky’s ears burned red. “Shut up.”

Yelena chuckled, twirling a knife like a baby would play with their dummy. “I can see the way you look at her, you know. If you put half as much effort into flirting as you do into those knives, you might actually get somewhere.”

He clenched his jaw, the frustration building. He hated the insinuation that he wasn't trying. But now? He might stop. He might just give up because clearly, he was a friend to you, the way Yelena was a friend. “It’s none of your business.”

“Oh, it is when I’m sitting here watching you blow your chance, Barnes.” Yelena’s tone softened, just a touch, before she glanced in the direction of the kitchen. “She’s oblivious, but she cares.”

Bucky stared down at the knife in his hands, knowing he had to deal with this teasing all day tomorrow. A constant reminder that he will always be too afraid to tell you. “It’s not that simple.”

Before Yelena could respond, you returned with glasses of water in hand, completely unaware of the exchange between the widow and the soldier in your absence. You handed Yelena the glass with a smile and settled back down beside Bucky, completely oblivious to his racing heart.

—

The multiverse… wasn’t as confusing as Bucky had expected it to be.

Sure, he didn’t understand how it functioned or what the exact mechanics were—something about a teenager named America Chavez punching a star-shaped hole through space-time. Or something like that.

But what really threw him off was how familiar this reality felt, how similar it was to his own. The streets, the neighbourhood, the people, the world around him—it was all the same, yet different in subtle, uncanny ways he couldn't quite point out.

America had opened the portal in an alley near Bucky's apartment in this different reality. After he and Yelena stepped through, America warned them: "I will open a portal again in two hours. Don’t miss the window." America was still so young, but she had a grim seriousness in her voice. Bucky wondered what her story was.

Now, Bucky and Yelena sat perched on a fire escape across from his own apartment—or, at least, a version of it. It was the same address as his was in his reality. The mission was simple: retrieve an artefact that belonged to this variant of Bucky—a blue stone embedded in a gold ring—from his apartment in this reality. Strange had briefed them on it: the ring was a powerful protection charm, and he needed it.

He just had to wait until his variant went out for his daily run, slip inside, find the ring, and get out. Yelena would be backup, keeping watch in case things went south. Maybe in case the variant of him decided to return early.

“I can’t imagine your girlfriend approves of this dangerous multiverse stuff,” Yelena quipped, resting her sniper rifle on the edge of the fire escape. “She’s very protective of you.”

Bucky’s cheeks turned bright red. “She’s not my girlfriend,” he muttered, though the title felt strange on his lips. 

“Whatever,” Yelena grinned, clearly unconvinced.

Only thirty minutes later, variant Bucky stepped out of the apartment for his run.

“Radio silence unless it’s an emergency,” Bucky instructed before slipping his earpiece in, turning it on. He didn’t want distractions. Not today.

Sliding off the fire escape, Bucky quickly made his way to the apartment. To his surprise, his keys worked just fine. No need for breaking in. As he stepped inside, he couldn’t shake the feeling of being somewhere both familiar and alien.

Everything was almost identical— just almost. The couch was a lighter shade of blue, the TV a different brand, though it looked the same. It was like staring into an uncanny mirror of his own life. 

Focus. He needed to find the ring.

He began searching the usual spots—safes, drawers, anywhere he’d hide something important in his own apartment. But no luck. Think, Barnes, he thought to himself, where would you put a protection charm?

Then, something caught his eye— a framed photo on the mantle of his fireplace that wasn’t supposed to be there. A photo of him and… you.

His breath hitched. It wasn’t just any photo. You were kissing his cheek, a lake in the background. The warmth in your smile, the easy comfort between you both... It was a picture he'd never seen in his reality. 

Were you together in this one?

Suddenly, everything clicked. The extra clothes in the closet, the toiletries. In his reality, you had a drawer in his apartment, since you stayed over sometimes, as a friend. But this? This was different. Here, you shared a life.

He spotted a camera, instantly recognizing it as the same model you had back in his reality. He knew he should stay focused on finding the charm, but curiosity got the best of him. Before he could stop himself, he turned it on, eyes shifting through the photos. Image after image appeared—of him and you together. Holidays, long walks, intimate dinners. Kisses and comfortable hugs. 

His chest tightened with a hollow ache of jealousy. Was this what he could have? What he might be missing?

Before he could process the feeling, a buzz in his earpiece snapped him back to reality.

Yelena’s voice came through, saying your name urgently. 

“What?” Bucky asked. Why would Yelena say your name like that?

“She’s here. She’s entering the building.”

Panic surged through him like a thunderbolt. “Don’t shoot her,” he ordered.

“Yeah, didn’t plan to,” Yelena answered, annoyed that he thought she was thinking of it, “but what are you gonna do? She has keys.”

Of course she does, Bucky thought, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. Frozen in his place, his mind raced. What now?

Suddenly, the door opened, and there you were, a version of yourself he had never met before.

“Buck?” the variant of you said, startled, eyes widening. “I thought you’d still be on your run. And why are you wearing your tactical suit?”

You closed the door behind, placing your bag on the couch.

“I—” he stammered, completely unprepared for this, unable to move. His heart pounded in his chest, the sound tangled in his throat. He glanced at your hand. There, on your finger, was the ring. The protection charm.

Of course. He should have known. He’d do anything to protect you.

His mind spun with conflicting emotions— jealousy of his own variant, longing for you back home, and guilt that he was even here.

You took a step closer, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “Not that I’m complaining about the tactical suit... You know I like it when you wear it to bed.” You flirted with a tender laugh, that soft sound that always made his heart stutter filling the air around him.

Bucky’s breath caught in his throat as you leaned in. It would be so easy to give in, to just pretend for a moment that this was his life, that this variant of you was his. To feel your lips on his. 

His hand twitched at his side, wanting to grip your waist, to pull you closer. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t let this continue.

He placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, stopping you. “I can’t,” he whispered, voice strained. “There’s nothing I want more. But I can’t.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. The variant of you pulled back, studying him more closely now, noticing the subtle changes. There was a subtle scar on his neck that wasn’t there before. “You’re not my Bucky, are you?” 

Yelena’s voice crackled in his earpiece again. She had been able to hear everything. “Bucky, I know she’s your weakness, but we need that ring. Do not tell her—”

Bucky switched the earpiece off, ignoring Yelena’s warning. He’d deal with that later. You deserved better than half-truths.

“This is Strange’s doing, isn’t it?” you asked, taking the revelation surprisingly well. “I thought he was done with all this multiverse shit.”

He nodded, guilt twisting in his chest. “Yeah. But… not your Strange. Mine.”

Silence hung in the air, thick with unspoken words. The variant of you looked at him carefully, as if searching for a trace of the Bucky you knew.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said. “I didn’t mean for you to get involved.”

“What does Strange want?” you asked, frowning. “And why is he sending my fiancé to do his dirty work?”

Bucky blinked. Fiancé? His heart stuttered. That ring wasn’t just a charm. It was your engagement ring.

You noticed his shock. “We are engaged in your reality, right?”

He swallowed hard. “No. I—I haven’t even told you, uh, her… how I feel.”

A soft chuckle escaped you. “So, all the Buckys are like this then? Huh.”

Bucky’s heart raced, his mind still reeling from the idea that you— at least this version of you—were engaged to him in this reality. It was everything he wanted but didn’t have. 

“I know I shouldn’t be here,” he muttered, guilt laced in his whimpering voice.

You tilted your head like you were trying to piece the puzzle pieces together and came to a conclusion that you were safe. As if you convinced yourself that no variant of Bucky would ever hurt any version of you.

“It’s okay,” you said softly. “You’re still him. In some way.”

He wasn’t your Bucky, and yet, you spoke to him like he was. You spoke to him with the same compassion, the same love. His eyes flickered to your hand again—the ring. 

Focus on the mission, he reminded himself. But how could he? Your eyes followed his stare, and it landed on the gold band around your finger. You let out a small but heavy sigh.

“Strange wants the ring, doesn't he?” you asked. Bucky nodded, feeling his heart twist in his ribs. He didn't want to take anything away from you.

“He said it’s a powerful protection charm.” 

The variant of you stood still for a moment, “I know.” You gently slid the ring off your finger, holding it in your palm. 

You stepped closer. “If Strange wants it, I know it has to be important. I trust that lunatic wizard— and I trust you.”

You were trusting him— this version of him who wasn’t even yours— with something so personal, something tied to your bond with his variant. “But, it's your engagement ring,” he said. He knew he got what he wanted, but he can't help but wonder why you gave it away so willingly. “I—Your Bucky gave this to you to protect you.”

The variant of you smiled, taking a necklace chain from under your shirt. There it was, the same stone that was on the ring also sat on your chest.

“My Bucky asked this reality’s Strange to split the gemstone,” the variant of you said, “He knows I have this tendency of misplacing my jewellery.”

Bucky can't help but chuckle. His version of you had that quirk, too.

“I’ll explain everything to my Bucky when he gets back. I know he’ll understand.” You hesitated giving him the ring for a second. “On one condition.”

His brow furrowed. 

You gave him a knowing smile, one that was all too familiar. One that made his heart swarm. “Go back to your reality, and tell me—her how you feel.”

His heart twisted. He does not make promises he can't keep, especially not to you— any version of you. “I can’t—"

“You can,” you interjected with that stubbornness he knew and loved. “If she means anything to you, you will.”

He stared at you, and no words came out. All this time, he had kept his feelings hidden, afraid of losing you if he told the truth. But here, another version of you telling him to just suck it up.

Bucky’s voice wavered above a whisper. “What if she doesn’t feel the same?”

A soft laugh escaped your lungs, and you shook your head, knowing something he doesn’t. “Trust me, she does.”

He could tell that this variant of you knew him so well, even if you were from another universe. Slowly, he took the ring from your hand. It felt heavier than it should’ve, weighted with more than just its magic.

“I will tell her,” he whispered a promise, “thank you.” 

You nodded, giving him a small, encouraging smile.

Bucky clenched his jaw, putting his earpiece back on.

“There you are,” Yelena’s voice crackled back into life. “Our window’s closing. We’ve got about ten minutes before the portal opens again. Move it.”

A shaky breath left his lungs. “Ring secured. On my way.”

He gave you one last look, his heart full of a thousand swirling emotions he couldn’t even begin to put a name to. “I hope your Bucky knows how lucky he is.”

The variant of you smiled. “I think he does.”

Without another word, Bucky slipped out of the apartment, the ring safely in his pocket. 

—

Bucky had knocked on your door after the day of his mission. When he saw you, your name escaped his lips like a prayer as he hugged you. 

Now, this was you. Not another version of you.

“Are you okay, Buck?” you chuckled.

Bucky held you a little tighter, his chest rising and falling against yours as he tried to ground himself in the present— this present reality. He pulled back slightly, eyes scanning your face like it was the first time he’d seen you in years. The both of you slipped into your apartment, closing the door.

“I missed you,” he admitted softly, though it had only been two days. The words now  carried more weight than they ever had before. His mind was still reeling from the alternate reality, from the life he could have had with you, and from what the variant of you had told him. He found some comfort and confidence, knowing that there was a version of him out there who had done what he was too scared to do—tell you how he felt. It was his turn now.

You smiled, but concern flickered in your eyes as you noticed something different in his touch. “You’re acting weird. Did something happen on the mission?”

Bucky hesitated, but he knew he couldn’t let this opportunity pass him by again.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Bucky said, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but you stayed silent, giving him the space to continue. You’d known him long enough to recognize when he was on the edge of an emotional breakthrough.

He took a deep breath to steady himself and stepped closer, his fingers brushing the side of your arm. “I’ve been afraid of losing you if I told you…”

Your heart skipped a beat as you realised where this was going. You stayed quiet, letting him speak.

“I care about you more than anything,” he continued, his stormy blue eyes locking with yours, vulnerable and frail. “I’m in love with you, and I’ve been too scared to say it.”

Your breath caught itself before it left your lungs. You could feel the truth of his words in the way his voice wavered, in the intensity of his gaze, in the flutter of his touch.

“I’m sorry if this is too much, too fast,” Bucky added quickly, misreading your silence for rejection. He cursed at himself, wondering if the variant of you had been wrong. “If you don’t feel the same, I—”

You didn’t let him finish. Instead, you closed the distance between you, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into a kiss. It was soft and tentative at first, but as soon as your lips met his,the hesitations, the doubts, the fears all fell away. 

Bucky’s metal hand settled at the small of your back, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. His soft lips moving against yours with a mix of relief and urgency, taking each other in for the first time as if it was your last. The warmth of your body against his, the way you fit perfectly in his arms— it was everything he could ever ask for.

You finally pulled back breathless, your foreheads rested against each other as you let the adrenaline settle.

“I love you too, Bucky,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I was just waiting for you to see it.”

Bucky chuckled softly. 

You playfully shook your head. “I owe Yelena ten bucks.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. 

“She was here yesterday night, after your mission,” you said, “She bet me that we’d be together by the end of the week. I took the bet because I didn't think you’d feel the same.”

Bucky let out a low laugh, the tension in his shoulders easing as a grin spread across his face. She had been pestering him after the mission yesterday, insisting on knowing what the variant of you had told him. But he had not volunteered any information to her.  “Yelena knew before I even said anything? I’m losing my edge.” he teased himself, shaking his head.

“Please, Buck. She’s like a human lie detector,” you quipped, rolling your eyes fondly. 

“Well, ten bucks is worth it, right?” he smiled.

You kissed him once more, short, sweet, and fleeting this time. It drew a giggle out of you, “Definitely.”

Maybe one day, he’d tell you about the mission, about the variant of you. 

But for now, he only wanted to enjoy the moment.

-end

[finelinefae]

safety [ceo!h x shy!reader]

synopsis: harry is always there to help bambi, always.

word count: 5.4k

contains: ceo!harry x assitant!y/n, deer!reader vibes, fluff, age gap (9 years), harry meets the family, crybaby reader lowkey

a/n: apologies for this taking so long. I've moved into university and switched courses within three weeks so I've had to do a lot of adjusting! But I hope you're doing well, thank you so so so much for all the love on the first part of bambi and being so patient with this part <333

this is part 2 of bambi, read part 1 here

. . .

Y/N sighed as she stepped into the living room, her heart sinking at the sight of her mother passed out on the couch. It was Friday night, and her mom was still in her work uniform, one shoe barely hanging from her foot while the other lay haphazardly across the room. A wave of frustration and sadness hit her hard. She had begged her mom to take the day off to watch the boys so she could go on her date with Harry tonight—the date she’d been looking forward to all week.

This was supposed to be their third date, just before she started working with him at Pleasing this weekend. Their last date had been simple—strolling hand in hand by the river, talking about everything and nothing. But tonight was different. Harry had told her to dress up; he had something important to ask her and was taking her somewhere special. Y/N had been buzzing with excitement ever since.

Glancing at her phone, she felt the sting of tears. Halfway through her makeup, she now realized it didn’t matter—she’d have to cancel. With her mother out cold and no babysitter available at such short notice, the responsibility fell on her. And it was ruining everything.

She opened Harry’s contact on her phone, staring at the little pink heart next to his name. Her thumb hovered over the call button as doubt crept in. What if he never wanted to see her again after this? Cancelling last minute was embarrassing, and she dreaded how angry or disappointed Harry might be.

Her thumb pressed down, the ringing growing louder with each second. Anxiety gnawed at her as she picked at the skin around her nails.

Suddenly, the call connected, and Harry’s voice, smooth and soothing like a lullaby, poured through the speaker. “Bambi? Was jus’ about to pick y’ up. You missin’ me already?”

Her lip trembled, and a tear slid down her cheek as she sniffled. “Harry…” Her voice cracked.

“Hey, what’s wrong, love?” Concern filled his voice instantly, and the warmth of it made her chest tighten.

“I-I can’t go on our date tonight,” she confessed, her voice shaky.

“What d’you mean? Don’t be silly, is something wrong?” His slight panic was clear, making her feel even worse.

“No, it’s not like that. It’s just… my mom came home late, and she’s, um, not able to watch the boys, so I have to stay and babysit. I’m really sorry, Harry. I wanted to go tonight, I swear. I understand if you’re mad or—if you never want to see me again—”

“Woah, woah, Bambi, baby, stop panickin’. I don’t hate you, not at all. It’s closer to the opposite, so calm down, yeah? ‘M not goin’ anywhere.”

“Okay,” she whispered, her voice still thick with emotion. “Y’promise?”

“Five pinkie swears, baby,” he chuckled softly, making her giggle through the tears. “It’s alright. These things happen. But are you okay? Need me to grab you anything? Have y’eaten today?”

His kindness made her heart swell. “N-No, but we’ve got stuff in the freezer I can heat up. Maybe we can reschedule?”

“Bambi, I’m already on my way to your house.”

Her breath hitched. “What? But, Harry, I can’t—”

“You think I’d let a little change of plans stop me from seein’ you? Been needin’ to see m’Bambi all day. How ‘bout this: you help your mum, and I’ll come by and make dinner for all of you. Sound good?”

Her heart skipped a beat. Was he real? Was he really this thoughtful, this willing to come over despite everything?

“Harry, you don’t have to—”

“I want to. Now, go get in some comfy pjs, and I’ll stop by the store to grab snacks. Maybe we can watch a movie later. Does that sound good?”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice lighter now. “That sounds perfect.”

“Alright, I’ll be over in thirty minutes. Take a deep breath for me, Bambi.”

Immediate relief washed over her at the idea of having an extra pair of hands to help her with something that she’d normally be left alone to and better yet it was Harry who was coming to help her. So, she did exactly that - breathe. 

. . . 

Y/N was pushing clothes into the washing machine when she heard the doorbell ring. Her heart skipped a beat or possibly maybe two when she heard it. She forced the door shut on the machine and walked to the front door. She frowned the closer she got when she could already hear Harry’s voice but that was soon followed by the voice of her younger brother. 

“I know jujitsu, you know,” Archie announced, his small five-foot frame blocking the doorway.

“You take classes?” Harry asked, bemused.

“No, I learned it on Roblox,” Archie replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh, I don’t think I’ve heard of that one before. You’ll have to show me sometime,” Harry said with a grin.

Archie snorted. “You could just be saying that to get into our house and rob us.”

Y/N’s face heated with embarrassment as she approached the door, ushering Archie out of the way. Harry’s eyes lit up as soon as he saw her. “Y/N, this pizza delivery guy is trying to break into our house,” Archie said. Y/N looked to see Harry holding two pizza boxes and a plastic bag.

“Archie,” Y/N gasped, “this is not a pizza delivery man. This is Harry.”

Harry smiled, clearly trying not to laugh, and offered Archie a small wave. It did nothing to ease the suspicious look on Archie’s face. “Who’s Harry?”

Y/N froze, unsure of how to answer. Harry was both her boss and the man she was dating, but she couldn’t exactly explain that to her little brother. “He’s... my special friend.”

Archie looked between them for a moment, then shrugged and wandered off. Y/N’s shoulders sagged with relief as she turned to face Harry, who was still grinning at her. He looked incredibly handsome in his matching brown suit, his curly hair tousled in that familiar way. Her heart sank a little, knowing he had dressed up for their date.

“H-Harry, I’m really sorry—” she began, but before she could finish, Harry set the pizza boxes down and pulled her into a tight embrace. She breathed in the fruity scent of his cologne as he gently rubbed circles on her back.

“Bambi,” he murmured with a soft sigh, “I missed you.”

She smiled against his chest. “You just saw me the other day, and we FaceTimed last night.”

Harry pulled back slightly, cupping her cheeks with his large hands. “Kiss?”

Her cheeks flushed, as they always did when he asked for a kiss. She stood on her toes, meeting his lips, savouring the softness of his touch and the faint taste of peppermint from his lip balm. 

“Have you eaten yet?” he murmured against her lips. “I brought pizza.”

“You didn’t have to,” Y/N sighed softly. “I was just going to throw something in the oven.”

“Hey, Bambi.” She looked up, meeting his gaze already fixed on her. “I wanted to. I’m here to help, okay? Now, why don’t we eat this before it gets cold? You grab some plates, and I’ll set the table.”

“O-Oh, okay.” She nodded, a bit flustered. “Just so you know, my brothers can be… intense.”

Harry smiled, his expression easygoing. “It’s okay, I’ve got a niece. I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

Y/N led him into the living room where her little brothers were scattered. Archie sat in the corner, hunched over the computer, likely playing the game he had mentioned to Harry earlier.

“Who are you?” a small voice piped up. Harry glanced down to see a boy around six or seven, looking at him curiously.

“That’s Y/N’s special friend,” Archie chimed in without even turning around from his game.

“Weren’t you the guy making out with my sister the other night?” The eldest of the three boys, who looked about fourteen, spoke up from where he was watching TV. Despite his age, there was a maturity in his tone that caught Harry off guard.

Harry chuckled, feeling Y/N stiffen beside him. He gave the teenager a polite smile. “Well, I guess that’s one way to put it.”

“Sammy go and get the plates from the kitchen, Harry bought us pizza.” Sammy huffed, pausing the tv and doing exactly as his sister said. 

“Jack, can you grab an extra chair?” Y/N asked the youngest boy, her voice gentle but firm. Harry watched as the boys immediately followed their eldest sister’s instructions without question. A small pang tugged at his chest—part of him felt for her, having to shoulder the responsibility of looking after three growing boys. He didn’t know every detail of her family life, but seeing the way they interacted was enough to tell him they’d had to adapt quickly.

They all gathered around the table, two extra-large pizzas laid out in front of them. Harry chuckled at the sight of the boys eyeing the food like it was a rare treasure.

“Calm down,” he murmured with a grin, leaning close to Y/N. “Y’ so stiff, Bambi.”

Y/N blushed, fidgeting slightly. “Sorry, I just get so—”

“So?” Harry interrupted, smirking as he tried to coax her into a fluster. “So what, baby?”

“So nervous,” Y/N huffed, her cheeks burning as she realized he was toying with her.

A throat cleared from across the table, and Y/N suddenly felt three pairs of eyes locked onto them. Jack and Archie looked disgusted by the couple’s banter, while the eldest boy, Sammy, was glaring at Harry with an intensity that made Harry suppress a laugh.

“How old are you?” Sammy asked bluntly, his gaze sharp and protective.

Y/N choked on her drink. “Sammy! You can’t just ask people that—it’s rude!”

Harry chuckled, raising a hand to calm her. “No, it’s alright,” he said, amused. “I’m thirty.”

“Whoa, you’re old!” Archie blurted out, eyes wide with surprise.

“Archie!” Y/N gasped, mortified, while Jack burst out laughing.

“I guess it is kind of old,” Harry shrugged playfully, glancing at Y/N with a wink.

“Are you rich?” Sammy pressed, undeterred.

Y/N’s face flushed even more, praying the ground would open up and swallow her whole.

“I do well,” Harry replied, keeping his tone light. “I own a fashion company.”

“That means he’s rich,” Archie chimed in, eyes lighting up. “Do you have a sports car?”

Harry leaned forward, whispering conspiratorially, “I own three.”

Archie gasped, his face a picture of awe. “No wonder you can afford two extra-large pizzas!”

“If you think that’s cool, wait till you hear what else I brought,” Harry teased.

“Candy?” Archie’s eyes grew even wider, filled with excitement.

“Better.”

“Ice cream?”

Harry nodded. “Ice cream, candy, whipped cream, chocolate sprinkles... you name it.”

Archie looked as though he might pass out from pure joy. Sweets after dinner weren’t a common occurrence in their house unless it was a special occasion.

Harry’s smile softened as his eyes flicked to Sammy, who was still watching him with guarded suspicion. “What do you want from my sister?” Sammy finally asked, his tone sharp.

Y/N cringed, wishing she could disappear like Jack, who was contentedly munching on pizza, completely oblivious to the tension. Her cheeks were already burning before she’d even taken a bite.

Harry’s hand found its way to her knee under the table, a silent reassurance that he knew exactly how she was feeling without her having to say a word.

“It’s still early,” Harry said honestly, his gaze meeting Sammy’s without faltering. “But I really, really like your sister.”

Sammy seemed to relax at that, but not without a final warning. “You’re not allowed to like her as much as we do.”

Y/N’s heart squeezed at the words. Despite the challenges, the boys were her world, her best friends.

Harry smiled warmly, his voice sincere. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

. . .

"Y/N! Y/N! Y/N!" Archie came barreling into the kitchen, his face smeared with chocolate and whipped cream from the ice cream sundaes they’d made earlier. Y/N was bent over the washing machine, pulling out clothes to hang on the makeshift line by the window.

"Harry says he's gonna take us to the indoor waterpark in the city for my birthday! Isn't that awesome? And he beat Sammy's score on the new game he bought us!"

Y/N glanced up, smiling softly at Archie's excitement. The boys had been glued to the computer for hours after Harry surprised them with a game they’d been begging for. The sound of their wild laughter had echoed through the house all afternoon.

Footsteps approached the kitchen, and she looked up to see Harry standing in the doorway, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Harry, I was just telling Y/N about the waterpark you’re taking us to," Archie said eagerly.

Harry’s eyes flicked to Y/N. "Ah, yes," he said, smiling at her. "I heard there’s a certain someone’s birthday coming up soon."

Archie's birthday was still a month away, and Y/N had only planned a simple celebration—movies, takeout, and cake. As Archie bolted from the kitchen, beaming about the waterpark, Y/N’s smile faded slightly.

Harry noticed the shift immediately. "What’s wrong?" he asked, stepping closer and reaching for her hand. "Did I mess something up?"

"N-no," Y/N replied quickly, shaking her head. "You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just... Archie's birthday isn’t for another month."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "So?"

Y/N hesitated, her words stumbling over themselves. "I just don’t want to make promises, you know, in case… I mean, what if…" She trailed off, struggling to find a way to express the growing anxiety in her chest. She adored Harry, more than she could articulate, but a part of her couldn’t help worrying about the future—the uncertainties that came with letting someone new into their lives.

"Bambi," Harry’s voice was soft as he cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. "Where’d you go?"

She blinked, confused. "What do you mean?"

His lips quirked into a gentle smile. "Y’ do this thing where you space out, like your mind drifts off somewhere else ‘cause you're thinkin’ too much."

"I do that?" she asked, surprised.

"Mhm," he murmured, his thumb tracing the little furrow in her brow, the touch sending warmth through her. "I like you an awful lot, Bambi. I plan on stickin' around for a long time."

"You do?" Her voice was small, almost disbelieving.

"Yes, I do. And I really like your brothers—they’re a credit to you."

Y/N opened her mouth to deflect, as usual. "Oh, you mean my mom—"

"No," Harry interrupted gently, shaking his head. "I mean you."

Her lips parted in surprise, her eyes misting over. She hadn’t expected that. She hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear those words. Without thinking, she leaned up and pressed her lips to his, a kiss filled with the gratitude she couldn't quite express in words.

She was about to pull away, but Harry held her close, his hands gripping her hips as he deepened the kiss. His soft, warm lips made her head spin, and for a brief moment, the world around them disappeared.

That is, until Sammy’s voice rang out from the hallway. "I’m coming in, so you better not be swapping saliva in there!"

Harry broke the kiss with a chuckle, glancing over his shoulder. "Alright, alright, we’re behaving," he teased, winking at Y/N before moving to the sink. "Let me help you," he offered, turning on the faucet to start washing the dishes from dinner.

Y/N watched him for a moment, her heart swelling with warmth. The words he’d spoken earlier echoed in her mind—words that had already begun to feel familiar, but only when they came from him.

. . .

Y/N woke up the following morning, not from the alarm she’d set for 6 a.m., but from the rapid thumping of her heart. Anxiety rippled through her, making her stomach twist with nerves. Today was her first day working at Pleasing, her first day officially under Harry’s employment. She was excited, of course, but that didn’t stop the butterflies in her belly from multiplying.

She stared up at the ceiling for a few moments, taking slow breaths to calm herself. Her phone buzzed softly on the nightstand, and she reached over, her fingers trembling slightly as she opened the message.

Harry: Morning, Bambi 🌞 There’s a car on its way to pick you up. No need to stress, yeah? I’ll be waiting for you at the office. You’re gonna be amazing x

A small smile crept onto her face despite the nerves. Harry’s words were like a warm hug on a cold morning, making her feel just a little bit braver. She couldn’t help but appreciate how he seemed to know exactly what she needed to hear, right when she needed to hear it.

She quickly typed a reply, her fingers still shaky.

Y/N: Thank you. I’m a little nervous but I’ll do my best. See you soon 💕

Y/N got out of bed and went through her morning routine, trying to focus on each task to stop her mind from spiraling into all the things that could go wrong today. She picked out an outfit she hoped said “professional but approachable,” taking extra care to smooth out any creases in her clothes. When she was finally dressed, she checked the time—6:45 a.m.—the car Harry sent should be arriving any minute.

She stepped outside, the cool morning air doing little to ease her racing thoughts. Y/N wrapped her arms around herself, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. The street was quiet at this hour, and she couldn’t help but feel like the only person awake in the world.

Just then, a sleek black car pulled up in front of her, the driver rolling down the window with a friendly nod. "Y/N?" he asked, and she nodded in response.

“That’s me,” she said, her voice a little shaky. She climbed into the backseat, clutching her bag on her lap as the driver started the journey to the office. She stared out the window, watching the familiar streets blur by, and tried to give herself a little pep talk.

You can do this. You’re ready. Harry believes in you, so believe in yourself, too.

Her phone buzzed in her hand again, another message from Harry.

Harry: Also going on a coffee run, do you want anything? x

Bambi: Isn’t that my job today? x

Harry: It’s my job to take care of you everyday

Y/N didn’t realize how wide her smile had grown until she caught her reflection in the glassy screen of her phone. A soft blush crept onto her cheeks as she tried to compose herself, glancing out the window to distract from the giddy feeling bubbling inside her. She watched as the quiet suburbs melted into the bustle of the big city, her heart thudding against her ribcage. 

Slowly, the car pulled up outside Pleasing. The building was elegant, with an arched doorway and a clean awning that had the brand's name in bold letters. Through the large glass doors, Y/N could see a glimpse of the bright, stylish interior. Her heart pounded as the car came to a stop, her mouth opening with a desperate plea to leave, to turn back and retreat home where she could hide away—but then she saw Harry, and her words fell away for an entirely different reason.

She’d seen Harry in a suit before, but seeing him in full CEO mode was something else. He wore a flawless black-and-white suit, cufflinks gleaming at his wrists. His eyes were stern, his entire demeanor unshakeable—until he looked her way, and his whole form softened.

“You’re here,” His voice was warm and inviting. She wanted to leap into him and hide herself within him but she wanted to be professional.

She stood in front of him, not wanting to get any closer to her new boss, “Good morning, Mr Styles.”

The corner of Harry’s lips quirked, a hint of amusement in his eyes. “Good morning,” he replied, savoring her formality. He took a step closer, his gaze gentle yet focused. “Ready for today?”

“Y-yes,” She said but it wasn’t all that convincing.

Harry grabbed her hand, “You’ll be just fine Bambi.” He murmured the nickname just for her to hear. 

The warmth of his hand around hers steadied her, but it also set her pulse racing. His fingers intertwined with hers, and he kept their joined hands subtly hidden between them as they walked through the grand entrance and into the lobby. Y/N’s nerves started to quiet, replaced by a growing excitement.

As they stepped into the elevator, Harry’s thumb brushed gently over her knuckles. She looked up at him but his eyes were looking ahead. Her eyes fixated on his sharp jawline and smooth, freshly-shaven face; he looked even more polished, clean-cut and distinctly professional since she’d last seen him.

When they reached his office floor, Harry led her down a sleek corridor and into an airy, open workspace with views of the city skyline. The scent of fresh coffee lingered in the air, and a few team members looked up with welcoming smiles.

Just ahead, a woman in her mid-thirties with shoulder-length auburn hair and an easy smile approached them. Her professional but warm demeanor put Y/N at ease almost instantly. Harry released Y/N’s hand as he greeted her.

“Lindsey, this is Y/N,” he said, glancing between them. “She’s starting with us today. I thought you might help her settle in and get familiar with everything.”

Lindsey extended her hand warmly. “Oh is this-”

Harry’s gaze lingered on her with a slight, unreadable intensity, prompting Lindsey to pause mid-sentence. Then, noticing Y/N, she broke into a bright smile.

“Y/N! It’s so nice to meet you.” She laughed lightly, her eyes flicking to Harry with a teasing glint. “I have to admit, I’m a little curious why anyone would sign up to be his assistant—he can be a real pain most days.” She shot him a playful look. “But don’t worry, just don’t enter his office at midday - he can get real hangry.” 

Y/N giggled and Harry’s eyes brightened at the sound, ““Y/N,” he said, his voice warm, “you’re in very good hands.” He turned to Lindsey. “Make sure she gets a proper introduction to everything, but don’t overwhelm her.”

Lindsey chuckled. “I’ll keep it light for today, boss. We’d be here all day getting into your list of demands everyday.”

Harry rolled his eyes, and with a final look at Y/N, said, “I’ll see you later, then.” His words were simple, but the small smile he gave her was anything but. As he walked away, Y/N felt the anticipation return, wanting him to come back and be the one to show her around. She wasn’t the best with meeting new people. She was shy and nervous and fumbled over her words too often but Harry had great faith in her so she would try her best to do good. 

“Alright, let’s get started,” Lindsey said, gesturing to an open desk area near Harry’s office. “First things first—coffee? I’ll show you the best spot, and then we’ll make our way through the to-do list Harry sent this morning.” 

. . .

Y/N liked Lindsey a lot. 

She was funny and gentle. Whenever Y/N made a mistake—like earlier when she accidentally printed everything in pink instead of black and white—Lindsey would correct her kindly, reminding her that mistakes happen. Y/N wasn’t used to this kind of patience; her old boss would snap or hiss at even the smallest error. Here, it felt nice to breathe a little easier.

Lindsey spoke warmly about her two little boys, whom she cared for while her husband was away with the military. She had once been a stay-at-home mom, but over time, the isolation began to weigh on her; she craved more than just the role of mother and wanted to be out in the world, around people. When she applied to Pleasing, she’d explained her situation to Harry during her interview, and he had offered her flexible hours so she could still make it home to her boys each evening.

Whenever Lindsey mentioned the things Harry had done for her and her family, her voice would grow thick with emotion, and she spoke of him with genuine admiration. Y/N found herself thinking of her own circumstances and the way Harry had taken her under his wing, feeling a warmth for him settle in her chest.

“Okay, Harry’s in a meeting, so we need to bring in tea and coffee,” Lindsey said, heading over to a small rolling cart neatly stocked with cups, a teapot, and coffee supplies.

She guided Y/N through the arrangement, showing her how Harry liked his tea prepared. “He’s particular about the temperature—hot but not scalding,” Lindsey explained with a wink. “Don’t worry you’ll get the hang of things.”

Y/N carefully poured the tea, her hands steadying with each instruction Lindsey offered. They finished preparing the drinks, and Y/N took a deep breath, steadying herself as she reached for the cart handle.

“You’ll be fine,” Lindsey reassured her, offering a supportive smile. “Just go in, keep it simple, and make sure everyone has their drinks. You’ll be a natural at this in no time.”

“I’m going in alone?” Y/N’s eyes widened.

“It’s good practice,” Lindsey grins, “Good luck!”

Y/N squared her shoulders and pushed the cart toward the meeting room. The murmurs grew louder as she approached, but her nerves eased slightly upon catching Harry’s eye. His expression softened for a moment before returning to its professional coolness, a small signal just for her.

As she entered, she was met with the sight of a large glass table surrounded by men in sharp suits, all eyes shifting toward her. Taking a breath, she rolled the cart around and placed the cups in front of Harry and the others. Just as she reached for the teapot, a slight tremor ran through her hand, and she felt a sudden rush of panic.

In an instant, she lost her grip. The teapot tipped, sending hot tea spilling across the table and splattering onto a crisp white shirt belonging to one of the men. The room fell silent, and every gaze shifted from her to the angry figure, whose face flushed crimson.

““Watch where you’re going!” he barked, rising from his seat. “Do you even know how to serve properly?”

Y/N’s heart raced, the color draining from her face. Just as she opened her mouth to apologize, a surge of anger rippled through the room.

“Do you think it’s okay to talk to a woman like that?” Harry murmured, his voice laced with malice.

“She stained my shirt! She’s lucky I’m not making her pay for it,” the man continued, and Y/N could see the discomfort on the faces of the other attendees, their expressions telling her they knew he’d crossed a line.

Harry’s eyes darkened, a storm brewing behind them. He reached into his blazer pocket, pulling out a checkbook and a fountain pen. With swift strokes, he began to scribble before turning to Y/N. “Y/N, would you mind delivering this to Mr. Smith?”

Y/N nodded, her hands trembling slightly as she accepted the check, its weight feeling both significant and heavy.

Mr. Smith snatched the check from her hands, glancing down at it with a scowl. Written across the page was Harry’s signature alongside a mere fifty dollars. “Your final check—enough to cover the shirt, I assume? I think I saw the same one in the TK Maxx sale rack.”

“Final?” Mr. Smith asked, incredulous.

“Correct,” Harry replied nonchalantly.

Mr. Smith’s face burned bright red. He huffed, rising from his seat and storming out of the room, slamming the door behind him. The room fell silent. “Meeting adjourned,” Harry announced, and everyone flooded out, eager to escape the awkward tension.

Y/N stood in the corner, barely able to look up. Embarrassment washed over her; she wondered if she could do any job right. Her eyes watered as she bit down on her lip to keep from crying.

Suddenly, two polished shoes came into view, and big hands cupped her cheeks, gently forcing her to meet his gaze. “Are you okay?” Harry asked, concern etched on his face.

She wanted to say yes, to express pride in her efforts and how well she had handled the day, but instead, she wrapped her arms around him, burying her face into his shirt. “I feel like I can’t do anything right,” she admitted, her voice muffled.

Harry sighed, his arms encircling her as he rubbed the back of her head soothingly. “You did nothing wrong.”

“You can’t fire people because of me, Harry.”

“Don’t worry about him. We’ve wanted to get rid of him for ages—just a sexist prick. Turns out you’re a pretty good assistant for giving me an excuse to fire someone on the spot,” he chuckled lightly.

Y/N looked up at him, her heart fluttering as his hand held her cheek, his thumb brushing beneath her eye. “These eyes,” he whispered.

A smile broke through her sadness. “I’m sorry for ruining your meeting.”

“Don’t care, Bambi.” He was so much taller than her, nearly a foot difference, so he had to lean down to brush his nose against hers, their lips ghosting against each other. “You actually made it better.”

“I did?” she whispered, her mind suddenly forgetting the man who had yelled at her.

“Mhm,” he hummed, and then, gently, he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was soft and lingering, sending a warm flutter through Y/N that chased away the remnants of her earlier embarrassment. She melted into the moment, her worries fading as Harry’s lips brushed against hers. 

“Okay, what the hell happened?” Lindsey barged into the room, causing Y/N to leap away from Harry, her cheeks flushing.

“Wow, Lindsey,” Harry said, rubbing a hand over his mouth, both of them flustered as Lindsey glanced between them. “Try knocking next time, yeah?”

“Since when have I ever needed to knock?” Lindsey shot back, her eyebrows knitting together as she assessed Y/N, whose face was now bright pink.

“Since now,” Harry replied. Clearing his throat, he added, “If you’ll excuse me…” He brushed past her, leaving the tension lingering in the air.

A laugh escaped Y/N’s lips, even as embarrassment tinged her cheeks; it was the first time she’d witnessed him so flustered. Lindsey arched an eyebrow, a teasing smile creeping onto her face. “So, are you two like…?”

“No,” Y/N replied, the denial tumbling out a bit too quickly.

Lindsey shot her a knowing look but chose not to press further. “Might want to let him know about that lipstick stain on his upper lip,” she added, rolling the cart out of the room and leaving Y/N feeling distinctly warm and flustered.

. . .

Harry kissed Y/N with the lights off on her front porch after dropping her home. Y/N melted against him, her fingers tangling in his hair as the kiss deepened. She felt a rush of warmth spread through her, the sweet taste of his breath mixing with the fresh night air. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer, their bodies fitting perfectly together. “Bambi,” He slurred against her lips.”

“Hm?” She hummed, unable to stop herself when she pulled him closer. 

“I was thinking,” He murmured, pulling away but his hands still firmly gripping her waist, “Maybe this weekend y’ could come to my place and stay the night.”

“The night?” She’d never had a sleepover before let alone one at a boys house. 

“Yeah… Would you be okay with that?” 

“Y-Yeah, I think so.”

“Y’ think so?” Harry grinned, “Are y’ sure?”

She smiled, “I’d like that.”

“Well, alright then,” he murmured, leaning down to place one last, soft kiss on her lips. “Goodnight, Bambi.”

“Goodnight, Harry.” Y/N barely suppressed a smile as she watched him walk to his car, a flutter in her chest as he turned back for a final wave.

Before she turned to step into her house, her phone buzzed and a text came through from Harry.

Harry: I think we have to get better at this whole sneaking around thing

Y/N: Tell yourself that, you kissed me first!

Harry: Can’t help it Bambi 

Harry: I’m obsessed with you

. . .

taglist ~~

@ravenclawmarvel @noididnotsignupforthis @comicalivy  @boomitsallie1 @hazzarules @squirreljoe @c3lline0 @harry2121 @lizsogolden @its-his-dimples @tchalametishot @youngpastafanmug @awritingtree @reidsblessing @idontcareforausernamesblog @madstyles3204 @cherrys4suckers @lomlolivia @tenaciousperfectionunknown

[dcxdpdabbles]

phone a friend♥️

danny is a god and poor tim is trying so hard to ignore his family talking about the wedding

Tim watches Danny as the other boy gestures wildly to the art around them. It's surprising to know that Danny has never been to a art museum, claiming the small town he was from never had one.

Oh, they had small art shows and a few street markets, but nothing official like a building dedicated to art. Their teacher had announced to the class a semi-famous water color painter's work was going to be on exhibit a week ago.

She offered extra credit to anyone who would go and write a report about their experience.

Very few people cared, seeing as a majority of the student body of Gotham would go to art auctions at least once a week. Tim had been among those that didn't plan on attending, seeing as his grade were adequate enough, and he's been to the art museum often with Damian.

Then he glanced at the desk next to him, watching frost slowly form around Danny's hands as the boy read about the museum. A few seconds later, he stuffed the flyer into his backpack, the sound of snickering from further down telling Tim that some of the more annoying classmates saw how fascinated Danny was.

Knowing him, Danny would probably act like it was lame if only to save face with his classmates who didn't accept or deserve him. The frost vanished, replaced with a soft echo in Danny's voice as he muttered about how he didn't think he could afford to waste money on a museum ticket.

Tim likely wasn't supposed to hear that. He picks up the flyer, considering it with an pair of great importance, just long enough for Danny to realize that Tim was doing so before gesturing at it.

"That sounds cool. Easy extra credit. Do you want to go with me, Danny?" Tim found himself asking. Danny's entire face lit up, frost forming around the windows near him in beautifual snowflack shapes.

Thank goodness the two sat so far back in the classroom, and the winter was well underway. No one would question the frost in this environment.

That's how he found himself, wandering around the Gotham art museum with an overly hyper meta on a cold winter Saturday. They sold hot chocolate at the entrance- with strict instructions to not go beyond the ropes- and he took sips as Danny oh and ah at everything.

He tried really hard to ignore his family, who were following them room by room just outside Danny's range. They weren't even in disguises! The idiots were walking around as the Waynes but were moving in a way that made it impossible for them to "accidentally" bump into Tim and Danny.

This kind of behavior he expects from his siblings, maybe Bruce due to Danny's meta powers, but Alfred? Why had Alfred forsaken him so?

"Tim, look at this piece!" Danny calls, pointing to a very dramatic interpretation of the Black Plague in the form of a grim reaper towering over a cowering village.

Tim shoot the doorway a glare, catching the flash of one of Jason's wavings hands before he joins Danny infront of the rope. He's eyes take in every detail, every stroke, a bit breathless by how alive the paiting is.

"It's gorgeous." Tim breathes, eyes lingering on a figure atop a hill in the background. The figure has enough details that it's obvious he is also part of the story, not just the setting.

Despite his commoner clothing, he looked like an angel among the humans. The figure looked up at the grim reaper, his white hair flowing in the wind, and a gentle glow surrounding him.

His expression was remorseful but accepting of what was happening, and his beauty was almost inhuman as he watched the reaper bring the village to its knees. Tim swears he looked familiar, but he couldn't quite place the face due to its near-human features; there was just something more to it.

Tim points towards him. "I think that's supposed to be life."

Danny's eyes lock onto the glowing boy before choking on his drink. Alarm Tim pats his back as Danny coughs through the liquid. "Dude are you okay?"

"I'm fine!" Danny wheezes "Just fine. Um, when was this painted?"

There is a plaque right underneath the painting with the art detail. He squints at it before reading out loud: "Black Death's Shadow. Painted in 1886 by an unknown Goth artist. It's said that the artist was painting a story passed down through the generations of the survivors of a small village saved by the King."

Danny wheezes harder. "Wow that's crazy. It's really pretty. What-um what style would this be called? Need to write that essay for Mrs. X. "

"It looks like romanticism," Tim responded, leaning in the closer, chest now over the velvet ropes. He squits harder at the glowing figure, trying to figure out who it reminded him of. The artist was talented, but maybe they weren't able to capture the charater well based off of stories?

"Wow so cool," Danny said in a strained voice. He turns to look at his companion and is about to ask if something is wrong when a quick spark races across his shoulder blades. Surprised by the sensation, Tim jerks his shoulders, feeling as if though someone had shocked him.

He quickly glances around with his eyes, ensuring not to turn his head and witness other guests flinching at the tiny spark. A few are also looking around confused.

Did everyone just experience static electricity? At the same time? With no one touching metal or other conductors? How could that be?

Danny doesn't seem to notice Tim's puzzelment because he is staring at the painted white hair boy with a forced smile. "Why do you think this is Life?"

"Lots of things," Tim responds, tilting his head slowly to try and gather more information without tipping off whatever caused that charge. "Mostly the glow and inhuman features."

Another shock, a few people wince and another few laugh, but this time Tim saw a flash of soft sparks race across Danny's left hand, and his mouth makes a small o in realization.

Danny's meta powers were causing the static shocks. But what emotion was causing this?

"Inhuman?" Danny stammered, more sparks zapping across his hands but not strong enough that Tim could feel them.

"Yeah, he's inhumanly beautiful," Tim answered, watching in real-time as Danny's cheeks turned rosy while the sparks stopped. His hair started to fall out slowly, indicating happiness and slight bashfulness. He was acting like Tim had called him beautiful—not that he wasn't. Danny was fairly good-looking.

Huh.

Tim truned back to the painting compare it's feacture to the boy next to him and then it clicked.

Danny was the glowing boy in the painting, or more likely when using his powers. Cass did say Danny reminded her of Captain Marvel.

Now, the question remained: Was it just his powers, or was Danny physically present the day this was painted? Even further than that, was Danny there the day the painting's inspiration had happened, five hundred years before the artist painted the tale?

Was Danny unaware he was in the painting?

"Um, we should move on, yeah? I think I want to check out some of the sculptures?" Danny sputtered while tugging on Tim's hand. Without letting go his classmate dragged him out of the painting exhibits in brisk speed walk.

He definitely knows that was him. Tim thought, watching Danny's back as he let himself be led away. Does that mean I was wrong about him being a meta? Is Danny a god or god adjacent?

Meanwhile, the rest of the Waynes are crowding around the doorway of the painting hall, watching Tim and his not-human boyfriend practically run away.

"They are so cute together" Dick cooed, gestureing at where Tim seemed to not be able to take his eyes off the other. "I mean look at Tim. He's mesmerized!"

"What were they looking at?" Bruce questions, stepping into the room and standing before the painting that had Danny freezing up. "Why did this cause such a strong reaction?"

"Obviously, Father, it was due to how weak-willed Drake's courtship is. He didn't even attempt to hold Fenton's hand. Coward," Damian snips at his side, while Jason and the rest quickly follow after Tim. "I could never. I held Jon's hand the second he agreed to a romantic outing-"

"What?"

"What?"

The pair stared at each other in utter silence before Damian coughed. "We should make haste to follow Drake, least we lose him. Come along Father"

"Damian, come back here. Explain what you just said. Damian!"

[romugh]

BUTTONED UP, LET LOOSE- NR

ROMUGH’S KINKTOBER

october 16th — car sex, innocence

DAY TEN || kinktober masterlist || 2024.

pairing- nerd!natasha romanoff x g!p!reader

cw- 18+!!; top!reader, bottom!natasha, loss of virginity, slight corruption?, fingering (n rcv), handie (r rcv), slight exhibitionism (?), praise kink, unprotected sex, soft & rough emotional sex (again??? kinda?? cheers!), library sex?, car sex, breeding!!, creampie (not specified tho, but i'm a slut so imagine it.)

wc- 10.456k of filthy goodness. goodnight LMAO!

a/n- wrote this with my little anon's thought in mind, say "thank you"!! anyways, the end was quite rushed in editing as i've been bedridden with stomach flu BUT hey! no cute glasses mention in this is a crime though, i apologise </3

synopsis- innocent natty. library. car. SEX.

taglist?- @lost-mortemanghel ♥︎, @idkwhatever580, @elliecoochieeater, @left-and-right-up-and-down, @deadlesbianwitches - comment or dm to be added :)

The library's usual hush enveloped you both as Natasha sat across the table, a determined expression on her face while she explained the astrophysics equations you were supposed to be studying. Her voice was steady, the kind of quiet confidence that came from knowing the material inside and out. It was in moments like these, with her glasses perched on the bridge of her nose and her attention fixed on the formulas, that Natasha was at her most self-assured. She had always been this way—composed, focused, and resolutely serious about her academics.

But as she went on about gravitational waves and complex integrals, your thoughts were miles away from the numbers she was scribbling down. You had been at this game for months, pushing her boundaries little by little, enjoying every flustered reaction and breathy response she gave you. The way her cheeks flushed pink whenever you leaned in a little too close or said something teasing had kept you entertained more than the equations ever could.

Today, though, you could feel a restlessness in you, an urge to take things further. Natasha had a crush on you—she didn’t need to say it out loud for you to know. It was in the way her eyes lingered on you when she thought you weren’t looking and the extra effort she put into her explanations, as if she was hoping to impress you. Her timid glances and nervous smiles betrayed her feelings, even if she tried to act like they didn’t exist.

You leaned back in your chair, stretching your legs out under the table until your foot gently brushed against hers. Her head snapped up at the contact, her wide green eyes meeting yours. A faint blush spread across her cheeks, and she quickly averted her gaze back to the textbook, her voice faltering for a moment as she continued explaining. “A-and so, the gravitational constant… it’s, um, important for—”

“Careful, princess,” you interrupted, letting your voice drop to a low, teasing murmur. “You’re sounding a bit distracted there. You sure you’re not the one who needs help focusing?”

Natasha’s brow furrowed slightly as she tried to steady herself. “I’m not,” she said softly, though there was a tremor in her voice. She turned the page in her notebook, pointing to another equation. “You… you just need to pay attention more. This part is essential for understanding the exam material.”

“Right,” you drawled, letting your gaze drift down to her lips for a moment before meeting her eyes again. “But it seems like you’re the one who’s a little off track. You’ve been going over that same equation for the past five minutes.”

She blinked, glancing down at the textbook as if she hadn’t realised. Her cheeks reddened further, and she quickly flipped to the next problem. “I’m just making sure you understand,” she said defensively. “These equations are really complicated, and I know you’ve been struggling.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Maybe I’d understand better if you helped me in a different way,” you suggested, your tone deceptively casual as your fingers brushed the edge of the textbook, inching closer to her hand. “You know, something more... hands-on.”

Natasha looked up, her brows knitting together in confusion. She tilted her head slightly, her innocence showing as she tried to piece together what you were suggesting. “Hands-on?” she echoed, her voice soft and uncertain. “You mean like... working through more practice problems? Or... showing you the step-by-step process again?”

Your smirk widened. She was just so naïve, so wrapped up in her own world of equations and theories that it hadn’t even crossed her mind that you could be implying something else. You leaned in a little closer, lowering your voice to a near whisper. “I was thinking of a different kind of help, princess. Something a bit more... intimate.”

The pink flush on Natasha’s cheeks deepened, her eyes widening as she tried to process your words. “I-I’m not sure what you mean,” she stammered, looking down at the book in front of her as if it could somehow provide an answer. “We’re… we’re supposed to be studying this, not... I mean, what else would we even be doing?”

You chuckled, a low, quiet sound that made her glance up at you nervously. “Oh, come on, Natasha. You’re a smart girl—you can figure it out,” you teased, letting your fingers graze her hand ever so slightly before pulling back. “Unless you really are that innocent.”

Her breath hitched, and she bit her bottom lip as if debating whether to press further. “I just… I think we should focus on the equations,” she insisted, her voice shaky. “The exam is only a few weeks away, and you said you needed lots of help understanding this chapter.”

You could see it—the way her fingers fidgeted with the corner of the page, the way her shoulders tensed as she tried to keep her composure. There was a part of her that understood what you were implying, even if she wasn’t ready to admit it to herself. The dark desire was there, buried beneath layers of shyness and self-restraint, and you wanted to pull it to the surface, to make her confront it.

Natasha's innocence was almost palpable. She was the kind of girl who had never even dared to watch porn, the idea itself making her blush furiously. The few times she had tried to touch herself had ended in shame, her own inexperience and embarrassment overwhelming her before she could explore anything further. It was like she’d always stopped herself just short of pleasure, afraid to give in completely, and you could sense that hesitation now, see it in the way her breath hitched as your words hung in the air.

But there was also a spark of something else—a curiosity she couldn’t suppress, a craving she didn’t fully understand. And you were determined to feed that curiosity, to coax her deeper into this uncharted territory.

“Sure,” you said lightly, leaning back in your chair. “If that’s what you want.” You let the silence linger for a moment before adding, “But you know, there’s more to life than just studying equations. Don’t you ever wonder what else is out there, princess? Don’t you want to experience something... different?”

Natasha looked at you, her eyes wide and uncertain, as if she was torn between following her instincts and sticking to the safety of the academic path she knew so well. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispered, her blush deepening as she glanced away. “I just… we’re supposed to be here to study. That’s what we agreed on.”

Your gaze lingered on her, the playful smirk on your lips fading into something darker, more predatory. “Studying doesn’t have to be the only thing we do, though,” you said softly. “Sometimes, the best lessons aren’t found in textbooks.”

Natasha’s breathing quickened, her fingers curling into tight fists on the table as she struggled to maintain her composure. There was a glimmer of something in her eyes—an unspoken conflict between the shame that told her to stay focused and the desire that tempted her to give in, to let herself be led astray just this once. She was so naïve, so innocent in her understanding of the world, and you could see how much that innocence was starting to weigh on her.

You reached across the table, this time letting your hand rest over Natasha’s on the textbook. The contact made her stiffen, her breath catching as she glanced up at you, wide-eyed and uncertain. "You know," you began, your voice dropping to a husky murmur, "I can tell you’ve got a lot of things on your mind, princess. But these notes don’t seem like one of them right now."

Natasha tried to pull her hand back, but you tightened your grip just enough to keep her in place, your thumb brushing gently over her knuckles. Her gaze flicked down to where your hand touched hers, then back up to meet your eyes, as if she was trying to gauge your intentions. She swallowed hard, the movement almost imperceptible, but you noticed how her breath seemed to catch ever so slightly.

"I-I don’t know what you’re talking about," she said shakily, her voice betraying her nerves. "I’m here to help you study. That’s… that’s all."

But even as she said it, there was a part of her that didn’t quite want to pull away. The warmth of your touch sent a tingle up her arm, a sensation she wasn’t used to—something that made her want to inch closer instead of retreating. She liked the contact, craved it even, but didn’t know how to reconcile that need with the proper, composed person she was trying to be. The more she tried to focus on the study materials in front of her, the more aware she became of the way your thumb kept tracing gentle circles against her skin, soothing and igniting her all at once.

It was confusing and exhilarating, and the conflict showed in the way she bit her lip, as if trying to stop herself from admitting just how much she wanted this—even if she didn’t entirely understand what this was. Her fingers trembled slightly beneath yours, a subtle surrender hidden behind her protests, a silent plea for more contact that contradicted the words that left her lips.

"Is it?" You tilted your head slightly, your lips curving into a smirk. "Because it seems like you’re trying awfully hard to avoid looking at me. And I can’t help but wonder… what are you so afraid of, Natty?"

She swallowed, her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red at the nickname. "I’m not afraid," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I just… we should get back to the equations. There’s still a lot to cover."

You could hear the desperation in her voice, the way she clung to the pretence of tutoring like it was a shield against the confusion swirling in her mind. It was adorable, really, how hard she was trying to keep things professional when her reactions betrayed her so easily. You let go of her hand, leaning back in your chair and watching as she quickly pulled away, her fingers trembling slightly as she picked up the pen.

"Alright, then," you said with a shrug, though there was a glint of mischief in your eyes. "Let’s get back to it. Show me that equation again."

Natasha nodded quickly, grateful for the reprieve, and flipped back to the previous page in her notebook. Her voice was steadier now, though still a little breathless as she resumed explaining the formula. "So, um, as I was saying… the gravitational constant is—"

Before she could finish, you made your way around the table and sat down next ot her, this time placing your hand on her thigh. Her words died in her throat, and she froze, her pen clattering onto the notebook. Her gaze snapped up to meet yours, her eyes wide with shock and something else—a flicker of excitement, perhaps?

"You were saying?" you prompted, your fingers tracing slow circles on the inside of her thigh, just above the hem of her skirt. The fabric felt warm against your skin, and you could feel the slight tremor in her leg as she struggled to compose herself. "Come on, Natasha. Don't stop now. I was really starting to understand the gravitational constant."

Her breath hitched, and she glanced around nervously, as if checking to see if anyone could see the two of you tucked away in the corner of the library. The quiet space was deserted, and the only sounds were the faint rustle of paper and the distant hum of the air conditioning. Still, the sense of vulnerability lingered in the air, amplifying the heat rising in Natasha’s cheeks. "You… you’re close…" she stammered, her voice barely more than a whisper. "This isn’t… we’re supposed to be…"

"Studying? Yeah, I know," you said casually, your hand sliding a little higher on her thigh. "But you know, sometimes you need to take a break. Clear your head, focus on something else for a while. It might even help you concentrate better." You leaned closer, your lips just inches from her ear as you added, "Besides, I think you could use a little distraction."

Natasha’s breathing quickened, and she bit her bottom lip, glancing down at where your hand rested so dangerously close to her. Her mind was spinning, torn between the urge to push you away and the shameful curiosity that kept her rooted in place. "But… someone might see," she whispered, her voice shaky. "We… we shouldn’t…"

"No one’s going to see us, princess," you murmured, your tone soothing yet insistent as you let your fingers slip beneath the hem of her skirt, brushing against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. "It’s just you and me." You paused, letting your hand hover just below the edge of her panties. "Unless, of course, you want me to stop."

Her gaze darted up to meet yours, her expression a mix of panic and something darker, more primal. There was a hunger in her eyes that she couldn’t quite hide, a longing that had been building up for weeks, fueled by every teasing remark and lingering touch. She didn’t want to admit it—not even to herself—but she was curious, desperate even, to know what it would feel like to let herself be led astray. Her hand trembled as she placed it over yours, but instead of pulling you away, she hesitated, her fingers curling loosely around your wrist.

"That's what I thought," you breathed, a dark satisfaction settling in your chest as you slipped your hand higher, your fingers gently pressing against the thin fabric of her underwear. Natasha gasped, her grip tightening around your wrist as if to stop you, but she didn’t push you away. Her cheeks burned with shame, but there was a small part of her that was curious, that wanted to know what it would be like to let go, to surrender like this for once.

You didn’t give her time to think about it. Your other hand reached up to cup her chin, tilting her head back so she was forced to look at you. "You’re so tense, princess," you whispered, your thumb brushing over her bottom lip. "Relax a little, will you? Just let yourself feel it."

Then, with deliberate slowness, you slipped your fingers beneath the fabric of her panties, finding her wet and warm. Natasha’s breath hitched sharply, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment before snapping open again, as if she was afraid of what might happen if she gave in completely. She gripped the edge of the table with her free hand, her knuckles turning white as she fought to maintain her composure.

"W-oh, we should get back to the equations," she managed to say, though her voice was breathless and strained. "This… I don’t know what I’m doing…"

You could hear the conflict in her voice, the way she tried to cling to her sense of propriety even as her body responded to your touch. "Oh, come on, Natasha," you murmured, your fingers sliding against her slick folds, teasing her just enough to make her squirm. "You don’t really want me to stop, do you? I can feel how wet you are. You’re curious, aren’t you?"

She shook her head quickly, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and longing. "No, I… I’m not… I don’t think like that…"

"Shh," you whispered, your hand moving to cover her mouth as you pressed a finger inside her, slowly, letting her feel every inch. "Just let yourself enjoy it, princess. No one has to know."

Natasha’s muffled whimper sent a thrill through you, and you continued to work your finger deeper, savouring the way her walls clenched around you, how her breath quickened beneath your hand. Her eyes squeezed shut, and you could see the struggle on her face, the war between shame and desire, the urge to push you away and the need to cling to the sensations coursing through her.

Your finger pressed deeper, coaxing a breathy gasp from Natasha that she couldn’t stifle beneath your hand. Her eyes darted around the library, half-lidded and unfocused, as if desperately searching for a way out—or perhaps hoping no one would stumble upon the two of you tucked away in the shadows. The thought of being caught seemed to send a jolt through her, a reminder of how wrong this was. But her hips moved into your touch, a subtle, instinctive motion that spoke louder than any words. She wanted this—wanted you—even if she didn’t quite know how to ask for it. Her breath hitched, cheeks flushing as she met your gaze, letting the unspoken desire hang between you.

"That’s it, princess," you whispered against her ear, your voice thick with dark amusement. "You’re starting to relax now. Doesn’t that feel better?" You added another finger, her tightness evident as you worked them in carefully, each movement deliberate, savouring the way her body tensed and then yielded. Her breath hitched again, a soft, desperate sound that made your pulse quicken. You could feel her trembling against you, every bit the inexperienced girl, struggling to reconcile the sensations overwhelming her.

Natasha’s hand gripped the table tighter, her nails digging into the wood as if it was the only thing keeping her grounded. Her thighs quivered, parted even more for you to reach between them, but she didn’t dare look at you—didn’t dare acknowledge the shameful truth that she was letting this happen. "I-I don’t… I don’t know…" she stammered, her voice muffled by the pressure of your hand still covering her mouth. "We… we can’t…"

Your smirk widened, a dark, knowing gleam in your eyes as you leaned closer, your breath hot against her flushed cheek. "Can’t?" you echoed, your tone dripping with mockery. "Or you don’t want to admit how much you like it?" You crooked your fingers inside her, brushing against a sensitive spot that made her cry out—though the sound was lost beneath your palm. Her hips bucked, her legs squeezing together instinctively, but it only served to trap your hand there, her body clinging to you in a way that was far more honest than her words.

A wicked thrill shot through you as you watched her crumble, every twitch and tremor betraying how little control she had left. You could feel her slickness increasing, coating your fingers as you moved faster, your thumb brushing lightly against her clit just to see the way she would react. Her head tilted back, her eyes squeezed shut as a whimper escaped her lips—a sound so full of desperate need that it sent a shiver of satisfaction down your spine. She was already unravelling, and you hadn’t even properly started.

"I think you’ve got something mixed up, princess," you murmured, letting your lips graze her ear as you spoke. "You keep saying ‘we can’t,’ but I’m pretty sure you’re telling me otherwise."

Natasha shook her head, tears welling up at the corners of her eyes as she struggled to stay composed. "Yes… please…" she breathed, her voice shaking with confusion and desire. "I-I don’t know what… I’ve never…"

"Shh, I know, I know," you whispered soothingly, though there was no real comfort in your tone. "You’re so innocent, aren’t you? Never felt anything like this before." You pulled your hand away from her mouth, letting her catch her breath as you kissed the spot just below her ear, soft and lingering. "But that’s okay, princess. I’ll teach you. All you have to do is trust me."

She looked at you with wide, watery eyes, her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but no words came. Her cheeks were flushed with embarrassment and arousal, and her breath came out in ragged gasps. "W-we shouldn’t… I’m—You’re… I’m supposed to be helping you with your coursework…"

"And you are," you replied smoothly, letting your fingers drag slowly out of her before thrusting them back in, earning a sharp gasp. "You’re helping me a lot, actually. Think of this as extra credit, princess."

Natasha whimpered, her body responding despite her mind’s weak attempts to resist. You could feel the way she squeezed around your fingers, could see the glazed look in her eyes as her walls fluttered helplessly. Her voice was barely a whisper as she finally pleaded, "Please… not here…"

Your smirk widened as you relished the sound of her desperation, and you withdrew your hand completely, leaving her panting and needy. "Alright, then," you said, voice low and dangerous. "We’ll save the rest for later." You stepped back, adjusting your stance as you took in the sight of her—Natasha, the model student, the academic prodigy, now reduced to a trembling mess in the library’s dark corner.

You licked your fingers clean, savouring the taste of her arousal on your tongue, before leaning down to whisper, "Come on, princess. Let's get you home."

You led Natasha toward your motorcycle, but instead of grabbing your helmet, you tossed the keys into the air and caught them with a mischievous grin. "You’re coming with me," you said, nodding toward her car parked nearby. Natasha blinked in surprise, her confusion momentarily cutting through the lingering haze of arousal.

It took her a moment to register the fact that you weren't heading for your bike at all. Her eyes darted to your hand—clutching her car keys. When had you...? She remembered then, how you had been ‘adjusting’ her skirt just a minute earlier, your hands lingering at her waist. You’d slipped the keys from her pocket without her even noticing.

"You’re leaving your bike?" she asked, glancing back at your motorcycle as if it were the only thing grounding her in reality right now.

"Just for tonight." You walked to her car and opened the passenger door, gesturing for her to get in. "Go ahead, princess. I'll drive."

She hesitated for a moment, but the vulnerable look in her eyes betrayed her longing for you to take control, to lead her down this path she’d never dared tread before. She climbed in slowly, her fingers fumbling with the seatbelt as if her mind were still struggling to catch up. You slid into the driver’s seat, your hand settling on her thigh almost instinctively as you started the engine.

The ride was quiet, the tension thick in the enclosed space, your touch resting warmly on her leg. She squirmed beneath your palm, her gaze flicking to you every few seconds as if waiting for you to do something, anything to break the silence. But you kept your focus on the road, pretending not to notice the way her breath quickened whenever your fingers flexed.

"Adress, princess?" you asked casually as you reached a stoplight, your eyes meeting hers in the dim light.

She gave you the directions, her voice trembling slightly, and you hummed in acknowledgment, continuing the drive. But when you reached her street, you didn’t stop in front of her house. Instead, you pulled into a dark side street a few houses down, parking the car under the shadow of some trees.

"W-why did you stop here?" Natasha asked, her voice small and unsure as she looked around the familiar but spooky area.

You turned off the engine and leaned back in your seat, your hand still resting on her thigh. "I didn’t hear a ‘thank you’," you said, your tone teasing, though there was a dark edge beneath it.

She flushed, her fingers gripping the edge of the seat. "T-thank you," she mumbled, her voice filled with embarrassed confusion.

"Oh, that’s it?" you scoffed, arching an eyebrow. "First you forget, and then you don’t even mean it? Not only did I drive you home, but I also made you feel good. I think I deserve a real ‘thank you’, princess."

The tension in the air thickened as Natasha looked at you, her expression caught between shame and a reluctant understanding of what you were implying.

Natasha's breath came out in shallow pants, her face turning a deeper shade of crimson. She squirmed in her seat, her fingers tightening on the edge of the cushion as if it were the only thing tethering her to reality. Her wide eyes met yours, glistening with uncertainty. “W-what do you mean?” she asked, her voice a hesitant whisper, though a hint of something more—something darker—flickered in her gaze.

You chuckled softly, a low and dangerous sound that made her shiver. “Come on, princess. You’re smarter than that. I’m sure you can figure it out.” Your hand slid up her thigh, fingers inching toward the hem of her skirt. Her breath hitched as your touch lingered there, applying just enough pressure to make your intention clear. “Why don’t you start by thanking me properly?” you murmured, your voice dripping with amusement. “And then we’ll see where that gets us.”

Natasha bit her lip, her eyes darting to the darkened street outside. The shadows seemed to close in, emphasising just how isolated you both were. There was no one here to witness this, no one to interrupt. Her pulse raced at the thought, a mixture of fear and something else—something she didn’t want to admit to herself. She looked back at you, her gaze faltering. “I… I don’t know how to…,” she stammered, her voice barely audible. “I’ve never… done anything like this before.”

Your smirk widened, your fingers trailing up to tease the soft skin of her inner thigh. “Again, princess, I know,” you said, the dark satisfaction in your tone unmistakable. “That’s why I’m going to show you. Just do exactly as I say, and I promise you’ll enjoy every second of it, as will I.” You leaned in closer, your breath ghosting over her cheek as you whispered, “Now, say thank you like you mean it.”

Natasha swallowed hard, her whole body trembling with nervous energy. “Thank you…” she whispered, her voice breathless and uncertain. You arched an eyebrow, your fingers slipping higher, grazing the edge of her underwear. “That’s better,” you said, your touch growing firmer. “But I’m still not convinced.”

Her heart hammered in her chest as you moved your hand back to her skirt, lifting it just enough to expose the pale skin beneath. She let out a soft gasp, her hands instinctively moving to cover herself, but you caught her wrists, pinning them down gently but firmly. “Ah ah, none of that,” you murmured, your gaze locked on hers. “Keep your hands to your sides, princess. I want you to be good for me.”

Natasha's chest heaved with each ragged breath, her body betraying the deep shame and twisted desire pooling in her belly. Her hands clenched into fists as she fought against the overwhelming urge to obey you, to give in to whatever you demanded of her. It felt wrong—so terribly wrong—but the heat flooding her veins made it hard to care. 

She wanted to be good. She wanted you to approve of her.

Your grip tightened on her wrists, and you gave a little nod toward your lap, the unspoken command clear in your eyes. “You know what to do,” you said, a hint of a challenge lacing your voice. “Don’t make me wait.”

Natasha hesitated for a fraction of a second before she reached for the button of your jeans, her trembling hands struggling with the metal clasp. Her skin burned with embarrassment, but beneath it was something else—a sense of reckless freedom that made her feel alive in a way she hadn’t before. The sound of the zipper seemed to echo in the small space of the car, and when she finally freed you, her breath caught in her throat at the sight of Big You straining against the fabric.

Her eyes flickered up to meet yours, as if seeking approval—or perhaps reassurance that this was really happening, that you were pulling her into this dark, exhilarating world she’d only ever glimpsed in her fantasies. But there was no familiar softness in your gaze, only a sharp, predatory gleam that sent a jolt through her. “Go on, then,” you encouraged, your tone growing lower, more commanding. “Show me how grateful you really are, princess.”

Her fingers trembled as she reached for the waistband of your boxers, hesitating for a moment before tugging them down just enough to free you from the fabric. She drew in a shaky breath as you sprang free, her eyes widening at the sight before her. The size, the heat, the sheer reality of it left her stunned, and she swallowed hard, unsure of where to begin.

Tentatively, Natasha wrapped her hand around you, her touch feather-light at first, as if afraid to grip too tightly. The unfamiliar weight and warmth against her palm made her pulse throb in her ears, and you couldn’t help but grin at the way her grip faltered. It was clear she was utterly lost and overwhelmed, unsure of herself in this intimate moment.

With a small, teasing thrust, you pushed into her hand, guiding her rhythm. The sudden movement made her flinch, her fingers squeezing reflexively around you. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, but there was something else too—something deeper and more eager beneath her shyness.

“Good girl,” you murmured, leaning back against the seat as you watched her. “Just like that.”

Natasha’s hand moved awkwardly along your length, her inexperience showing in the hesitant, uneven strokes. The look in her eyes was a mixture of uncertainty and curiosity, her cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment. You watched her for a moment, savouring the sight of the usually composed and reserved tutor and classmate unravelling under your touch. Her breath hitched each time your hips rolled against her fingers, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at how adorably naïve she was.

You reached out, catching her chin between your thumb and forefinger, tilting her head up so that she was forced to meet your gaze. “You can do better than that, princess,” you murmured, your voice laced with dark amusement. “Put some real effort into it. Show me that you’re grateful for everything I’ve done for you.”

Her lips parted as though to respond, but the words seemed to catch in her throat. Instead, she gave a small nod, her movements becoming a little more purposeful, though there was still a clumsy innocence to the way she touched you. It was endearing, really, to see someone so smart reduced to a flustered, trembling mess in your hands. Her fingers tightened around you, a little more pressure now, and you rewarded her with a low groan of approval.

“That’s better,” you said, your thumb grazing over her lower lip as her breath stuttered. “But I still think you owe me a real thank you.”

Before she could question what you meant, you grabbed her wrist and tugged her closer. With a swift, effortless motion, you pulled her over your lap, her skirt riding up to expose the pale curve of her thighs. Natasha gasped, her body stiffening with shock as she found herself sprawled over you, her cheek pressed against the back of the cool leather seat. “W-what are you—?” she stammered, but her question died in her throat when your hand slid under her skirt, cupping her through her dampening underwear.

“Quiet,” you ordered, your tone taking on a more authoritative edge. “We’re not done yet, princess. I want you to thank me properly… and I think you need a little example of how to do that.”

Her breath quickened, and she let out a small, muffled whimper as your hand slipped beneath the waistband of her panties again, stroking her gently. “I… I don’t…” she began, her voice a shaky whisper.

You smirked, lifting your hand away from her just as she started to press back against your touch, her body instinctively seeking more. “Count for me, Natasha,” you said, your palm hovering over the curve of her rear. “And don’t forget to thank me after every one.”

The first spank landed with a sharp, resounding smack that echoed in the enclosed space. Natasha cried out, her fingers digging into the seat as she instinctively tried to push herself up. “One… t-thank you,” she gasped, her voice barely audible. The sting was sharp and hot, blossoming across her skin, but there was a curious thrill that came with the pain—a strange mix of shame and excitement that made her head spin.

“Good girl,” you praised, your hand rubbing over the spot where you’d struck, soothing the burn before delivering another firm spank. “Two,” she whimpered, her voice trembling. “Th-thank you…”

You grinned at the way her body jerked with each spank, at the breathless little sounds that escaped her lips despite her best efforts to stay composed. Her skin grew pinker with each strike, the marks of your hand painting her pale flesh. By the eleventh spank, she was trembling, her breaths coming out in ragged gasps. “Eleven… thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely holding together.

You turned your head slightly, your breath hot against her ear as you murmured, “You’re doing so well for me, princess. But I think you can be even more grateful.” Your fingers slipped between her legs again, teasing the dampness that had soaked through her panties. “Maybe this will help you find the right words.”

Natasha’s entire body tensed at the intimate touch, her thighs clenching together in a futile attempt to close herself off. But you were relentless, your fingers slipping past the thin barrier of her underwear to stroke the slick heat between her legs once more. Her breath hitched, and she bit her lip to stifle a moan. “P-please…” she whimpered, though she wasn’t even sure what she was begging for.

“Please what?” you taunted, your voice a low purr. “Do you want me to stop?” You knew the answer before she even said it, but you loved the way her hesitation made her feel even more vulnerable. The way she struggled with her own desires, torn between her shame and the undeniable pleasure coursing through her.

“I… n-no…” she finally admitted, her voice so small it was almost a whisper.

“That’s what I thought,” you said, slipping a finger inside her, savouring the way her walls clenched around you. “Now, keep counting, princess. I want to hear every single thank you.”

Natasha’s voice trembled with each counted number, her thank yous becoming softer and more breathless as you continued to spank her, your hand firm and unrelenting. Her skin was hot and flushed beneath your touch, a vivid reminder of her growing submission. With each strike, her body seemed to sink deeper into the haze of sensation, and a part of her—small, hidden—found herself longing for it. The way you touched her, the way you controlled her pleasure, it was like nothing she had ever felt before. It both thrilled and terrified her.

“Ah–Seventeen… th-thank you,” she whimpered, her voice cracking. There was an unmistakable note of desperation in her tone now, a vulnerability that made your pulse quicken. Her knees trembled, and she shifted on your lap, unable to find any position that didn’t make her feel even more exposed. When the seventh spank landed, she let out a choked little cry, her fingers curling into the seat. “Eigh–Eighteen, God, thank you…”

You leaned closer, your breath brushing over her neck as you whispered, “That’s my good girl… So obedient. I think you’re really enjoying this, aren’t you, Natty?” You punctuated your question with a slow curl of your finger, pressing deeper inside her. Natasha’s breath hitched, and she squeezed her eyes shut, as though she couldn’t bear to admit the truth.

“N-no… I…” she tried to protest, but her hips involuntarily rolled against your hand. Heat flooded her cheeks, and a tingle coursed through her spine, confusing and thrilling her all at once. Her body responded to your touch in ways she didn’t understand, her pulse quickening at the tone of your voice.

You could feel the shift in her, see the way her resolve was weakening. “Don’t lie to me, princess,” you murmured with amusement. “Your body’s telling me what you really want.” You added another finger, stretching her tighter, and she gasped, the sound barely muffled by her bitten lip. “You can ask for more if you want, you know.”

For a heartbeat, she hesitated, her breath coming out in shallow, uneven gasps as you moved your fingers inside her. But then, to her own surprise as much as yours, Natasha’s voice broke the silence—small and trembling, but there. “M-more… please…” she whispered, her eyes fluttering open to meet yours, a glimmer of need reflecting back at you. The moment the words left her lips, she felt her heart skip in her chest, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

A shiver ran through you at her plea, the sound of her voice, so hesitant and desperate, fueling a dark satisfaction within you. “Oh, my Natty baby,” you praised softly, letting your fingers curl and press into her sweet spot, earning another soft cry. Her nails dug into your shoulders, and her breath shuddered as she rocked herself against your hand, her movements tentative but growing bolder with each second.

“I… I didn’t know…” Natasha murmured, her words barely audible as tears began to spill down her cheeks. The emotions overwhelmed her—shame, desire, the thrill of doing something so forbidden. She had never known it could feel like this, like fire and ice, pain and pleasure all at once. Her body trembled, torn between surrender and disbelief. Yet she found herself craving more, surprising herself with how much she wanted to feel you deeper, to push her limits.

“You didn’t know what, princess?” you whispered, your voice filled with dark amusement as you stroked her cheek, brushing away the tears. “You didn’t know you’d like being touched this way? Or that you’d be begging for more?”

She shook her head, another tear slipping free. “I… I didn’t know it could feel so…” Her words trailed off as a sob escaped her throat, her body arching closer to you, seeking the source of her own undoing. “So good… I—please, I need more…”

Your eyes darkened at her confession, at the way she was finally giving in completely to the desire coursing through her. You tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet your gaze as you spoke, your voice laced with satisfaction. “That’s what I like to hear, princess. Don’t hold back… let yourself feel it. I’ll give you exactly what you need.”

She whimpered, nodding as her breath quickened. Her inexperience was obvious in the way her body hesitated, her movements uncertain. But you guided her, coaxing her to sink further into the feeling, the shame and tears only serving to intensify the pleasure. You shifted, positioning her so that she could feel your hard length pressing against her entrance through the thin barrier of her soaked panties, a low groan escaping her lips at the sensation as your fingers steadily kept pumping into her.

Her face flushed darker, a mix of embarrassment and anticipation as she realised you were really planning on giving her exactly what she needs. “But… but…” she stammered, the words stumbling from her tongue. She wasn’t sure what she was even trying to say. The thought of you touching her like this, pushing her to the edge—it made her feel so dirty. But she didn’t want you to stop. “Please…” The word fell from her lips again, almost involuntarily, her body betraying her.

“There’s my good girl,” you murmured, stroking her cheek. “Just keep asking nicely, and I’ll make you feel even better.” You moved your fingers in a rhythm, coaxing small, breathless moans from her. Her eyes fluttered shut, and she rocked against you with a quiet desperation, her tears glistening on her flushed cheeks.

Natasha’s innocence, her struggle to reconcile the shame and pleasure, made every little gasp, every plea for more, that much sweeter. She had never felt anything so raw, so consuming, and despite the tears, despite the unfamiliar—but very much welcomed—sensations coursing through her, she found herself wanting to drown in it.

Natasha’s body was trembling, every nerve alight with a mix of lingering embarrassment and overwhelming need. Her tears had stopped flowing, but her eyes remained glassy with a desperate kind of longing. She was moving on instinct now, her hips grinding against your fingers as they pressed deeper inside her. Her skin was hot to the touch, flushed from both the heat of the car and the intensity of what she was feeling.

You could see it in her eyes—the shift from uncertainty to a raw, unrestrained desire. It was as though a switch had flipped inside her, and whatever hesitation had held her back was now crumbling away. “Please… I don’t… I need it…” Natasha’s voice was breathy, the words barely coherent as she clung to you, her nails digging into your shoulders. The way she asked for more, with such a mix of innocence and desperation, sent a thrill down your spine.

You tightened your hold on her, feeling a surge of possessiveness rise within you. She was yours now, even if she didn’t fully understand it yet. The way she looked at you—eyes wide, cheeks flushed, lips parted in a soft gasp—only made the feeling stronger. “You need me, do you?” you murmured, your tone low and possessive as you moved your fingers in deeper, harder, feeling her tighten around you. “Good girl… that’s what I like to hear.”

Natasha let out a choked little moan, her body responding to your touch and words without hesitation. Her legs trembled, her thighs quivering against the leather seat as she tried to move closer, needing to feel every inch of you against her. “I… I don’t know why… I want you to keep touching me,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need as she buried her face in your neck. She couldn’t bring herself to look you in the eyes now, couldn’t bear the intensity of what she was feeling. “Please… don’t stop…”

You chuckled softly, a dark satisfaction curling in your chest as you leaned in, pressing your lips against her damp hairline. “Don’t worry, princess,” you murmured. “I’m not going to stop. You’re mine now.” Your words were possessive, almost a growl, as you let your free hand cup her cheek, guiding her gaze back up to meet yours. The way she looked at you—so needy, so desperate—made something inside you tighten. “And I’m going to take care of you. You want that, don’t you?”

She nodded quickly, her breath coming out in shallow pants as your fingers continued to work her. “Yes… yes, please,” she whimpered, her voice hitching with every curl of your fingers inside her. There was no room left for shame, only the all-consuming need to feel more, to have you claim every part of her.

The way she responded to you now, without reservation, made your primal instincts flare. You wanted to shield her from everything, but you also wanted to keep her trembling beneath your touch, completely dependent on the pleasure you were giving her. “That’s my girl,” you whispered, kissing the corner of her jaw, just above the pulse that raced beneath her skin. “Look at you… so beautiful when you’re needy. So perfect.”

Natasha’s breath hitched at your praise, and a soft whine escaped her lips. She could hardly think straight anymore.

(not that she was, anyway)

All she knew was the way you made her feel—alive and burning, like she was drowning in you. Her fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt as she clung to you, her tears and fears completely forgotten, replaced by an ache so deep she couldn’t even put it into words. “I want… I want to feel you more…” Her voice broke on the last word, her cheeks flushing an even darker shade of red as she realised what she was asking for, begging for.

“I don’t… I don’t know what to do, but I want it…”

You paused for a moment, your gaze darkening as you absorbed her words. It wasn’t just need; it was a yearning for more than just the physical. She wanted you, wanted the way you made her feel like nothing else mattered but this moment. “You don’t have to do anything,” you murmured, your voice softer now, but still laced with that possessive edge. “Just let me take care of you, princess. I’ll give you everything you need.”

You shifted her slightly on your lap, your fingers sliding free from her wet heat, drawing a quiet whimper of protest from her. You could see the need in her eyes, the way she bit her lip, trying to hold back from asking for more but failing miserably. “Shh,” you whispered soothingly, tracing a finger over her swollen, flushed lips. “I know you want more… Give me a second, baby.” You reached down, sliding her panties to the side as you guided her legs further apart. “You’re going to have to be my good girl again and show me how much you want it.”

Her breath shuddered out as you positioned her over your hardened length, letting her feel the thickness pressing against her soaked entrance. Her eyes widened, a mix of nervousness and desire flashing across her features as she realised just how much more there was to take. “I… it’s… it’s so big…” she whispered, her voice trembling as she hesitated.

You couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at your lips. “You can take it, princess,” you encouraged, your voice a low purr as you held her hips firmly. “I’ll help you. You’re safe with me.”

Her fingers trembled as she gripped your shoulders harder for support, her body shaking with both anticipation and need. She didn’t know if she could handle it, didn’t know if she was ready, but the look in your eyes made her feel like maybe she could. Maybe she wanted to. She began to lower herself slowly, her breath catching in her throat as the head of your cock stretched her inch by inch. It was overwhelming, much bigger than your two fingers, and her tears returned, but not out of shame or confusion this time—just the raw intensity of it all.

“You’re doing so well,” you murmured, your hands steadying her as she sank down further, taking more of you inside her. The possessive part of you revelled in the way her body clenched around you, in the way she bit back the whimpers and moans that spilled from her lips. “That’s it, princess… let me fill you up. Take it all.”

Natasha’s breath was ragged, her forehead resting against her left hand on your shoulder as she tried to adjust to the unfamiliar fullness. The stretch was unlike anything she’d imagined, an ache that made her shudder. But the way you whispered encouragements, the possessive grip on her waist, it all made her feel so… needed.

Wanted in a way she had never been before.

“Please… don’t stop,” she breathed out, surprising herself again with how much she was asking for. Her hips moved of their own accord, rolling slightly as if trying to coax more of you deeper inside her. “I… I need all of you…”

Natasha's breaths came in quick, desperate gasps as she struggled to take you completely. Her body shook, the stretch bordering on unbearable, but she physically couldn’t bring herself to stop. She needed more—needed to feel every inch of you inside her, to be filled in a way that left no room for anything else. Inch by inch, she kept sinking down, her legs trembling as her hips rolled against you in an effort to take you deeper.

You gripped her waist, steadying her as you watched her struggle, your breath hitching at the sight of her determination. “It’s okay, princess,” you murmured, voice strained as you fought to keep control. “You don’t have to—”

But she shook her head, her brows furrowed in concentration as she cut you off. “No… I need to,” she whimpered, her voice breaking on the last word as she bit down on her lower lip. The heat between her legs was almost unbearable, the stretch making her feel impossibly full, but she was so close—so close to taking you all. “I can… I can do it. Please… don’t… don’t stop me…”

A shudder of pleasure ran through you as you watched her fight for it, your grip tightening on her hips as you guided her down a little further. “God… you’re so stubborn,” you groaned, the sensation of her clenching around you almost enough to drive you mad. “But you feel so damn good.” You could see the tears in her eyes, the way her cheeks burned as she struggled to adjust to your size, but she didn’t give up. She kept moving, kept pushing herself.

With one final, trembling motion, she sank all the way down, seating herself fully in your lap. Her breath hitched, her whole body going rigid as she felt you buried inside her, deeper than she’d ever thought possible. The sensation was overwhelming, a sharp mix of pain and pleasure that sent a jolt through her entire body. Her eyes fluttered shut, her head falling back as a soft, shuddering moan escaped her lips.

The sight of her finally taking you completely for the first time, her very first time, her body trembling and her chest heaving, was enough to make you lose control. A deep groan rumbled from your throat as you clutched her hips tightly, your fingers digging into her soft skin. “I’m going to show you, baby,” you slurred, your voice thick with desire as you began to move her, lifting her up only to sink her back down onto your cock. “I’m showing you… y’feel so good, princess–Fuck…”

Your words came out in a heated mess, every thrust making it harder to speak clearly. The way her body clenched around you, squeezing you with each roll of her hips, made your head spin. You could barely focus, could barely think beyond the feeling of being inside her, of her warmth surrounding you so completely. It was as if she had been made for you, every inch of her fitting so perfectly around you that it almost hurt.

That look in your eyes—wide, dark, and feral—was what pushed her over the edge. She saw the way you were falling apart because of her, how your breath hitched and your words came out in broken gasps, and it sparked something wild inside her. For the first time, she felt powerful—felt like she had you at her mercy, even if she was the one trembling. Her hands clung to your shoulders, her fingers digging in as she let you take her completely, riding you with an intensity that shocked even her.

“More…” she breathed out, her voice ragged as she clung to you. “Please… More.” There was no room left for shame or doubt; there was only the need to feel you, to be filled over and over until she couldn’t think of anything else. She tightened her legs around you, pulling you in closer as you kept moving her up and down in a steady rhythm, each thrust making her see stars.

You couldn’t hold back anymore. The sight of her—so desperate, so wild—drove you closer to the brink. Your hips bucked up against her, meeting her halfway as you quickened the pace, your hands guiding her movements with a rough, possessive grip. “God, Natasha…” you groaned, your voice barely coherent as you felt her tightening around you, her body squeezing you so tightly it actually did start to hurt. “You’re mine… mine…” The words spilled out in a heated rush, your breath fanning against her ear as you buried your face in her hair.

Natasha’s nails raked down your arms and neck, her breath hitching with every roll of her hips. The feel of your possessiveness, of the way you claimed her, sent a shiver through her entire body. She buried her face in your neck, her lips brushing against your skin as she let out a broken moan. “Yours… I’m yours…” The words left her before she could even think about what they meant, before she could question why it felt so good to say them.

The rhythm quickened, each thrust sending a jolt of pleasure coursing through her, until it felt like her whole body was on fire. She couldn’t get enough, couldn’t get you deep enough. Her thighs trembled, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she clung to you, letting you move her in whatever way you pleased. She didn’t care anymore—didn’t care how needy or desperate she looked. All that mattered was the way you filled her, over and over, until she felt like she would break.

You could feel her losing herself, could hear it in the breathy moans and half-whimpers that spilled from her lips. It was like she had given herself over entirely to you, her body yielding in a way that made something primal inside you go feral. “My perfect girl,” you whispered, your voice rough as you praised her. “That’s it… take it all, princess. You’re perfect… perfect for me.”

Her body shuddered at your words, and a sob tore from her throat as she felt herself unravelling. She was so close—so close to the edge that it scared her, but she didn’t want it to end. She buried her face against your neck, her voice muffled against your skin as she cried out. “Please… Don’t let go—Don’t let go…” Her voice trembled with the intensity of it all, her nails digging into your shoulders as she held on for dear life.

You didn’t let go. You kept moving, kept taking her, holding her against you as if she might disappear if you didn’t. The possessiveness, the need to make her feel everything, consumed you entirely. And as you felt her tighten around you time after time, her whole body going taut as she cried out in pure ecstasy, you knew you had her completely.

Natasha's cries echoed in your ears, mixing with the sound of your own breaths as you thrust harder, feeling the heat pooling in your core. The way she clung to you, the way her body quivered above you, only heightened your desire. “That’s it, baby, just like that,” you encouraged, each word a reminder of how utterly lost she was in this moment with you, how perfectly aware you were in this moment with her.

Her orgasms rolled through her like a tidal wave, crashing over every thought and leaving only pleasure in its wake. You watched, enthralled, as she writhed against you, her body contracting and pulsing around you, squeezing you tighter and tighter as her cries turned into soft whimpers. The way she surrendered to the feeling made your heart race, igniting a deep-seated need to protect her, to hold her through this storm.

“Please… please don’t stop,” she gasped, breathless and desperate. The sheer need in her voice sent a jolt of electricity through you, igniting an even deeper hunger. You increased your pace, each thrust more frantic than the last as your body took over, driven by instinct rather than thought. You were focused solely on the pleasure radiating from her, on the way she fell apart around you, and how you could make her feel even better.

“Never stopping, princess,” you murmured, your voice a low growl as you leaned closer, wrapping your arms tighter around her. “M’gonna to fill you up... make you mine.” You thrust into her with a newfound urgency, chasing your own release, the heat pooling in your belly threatening to boil over.

With each thrust, you felt the tension inside you building, drawing you closer and closer to the edge. You could see the look on her face—the way her eyes fluttered shut, the way her lips parted in silent cries of pleasure. It was intoxicating, and you couldn’t get enough. “You feel so good, Natty. So fucking good,” you grunted, the pleasure blurring the edges of your mind.

Natasha nodded, eyes glassy with need, her breath coming in shallow gasps. “I—oh god… I can’t…” she whimpered, her hips instinctively meeting yours, driving you both deeper into this carnal dance. The world outside faded into oblivion as you lost yourselves in one another.

“M’gonna fill you, baby,” you groaned, your voice rough with desire as you neared your peak. With a final, powerful thrust, you felt everything snap, the pressure inside you bursting forth as you released into her, filling her completely. The sensation of it was almost overwhelming, the heat of your release mixing with the intoxicating warmth of her body.

Natasha’s eyes widened as she felt you release, and the combination of pleasure and sensation sent her spiralling into yet another climax. She cried out, her voice a mixture of surprise and ecstasy as her body quaked around you, milking every last drop from you as you filled her. The world faded away, and all that remained was the two of you—lost in a whirlwind of pleasure, need, and an undeniable connection that had ignited between you.

You held her tightly, feeling her heartbeat beneath your hands, her breaths coming in shuddering gasps as you both rode the waves of your releases. In that moment, the weight of the world melted away, leaving only the two of you in your own private universe, a place where nothing else mattered but the blissful entanglement of your bodies.

But as you gently slipped out of Natasha and the haze of pleasure began to lift, her eyes glistened with an emotion that caught you off guard. A shadow of doubt crept across her features, her expression shifting from blissful surrender to uncertainty. She looked at the fogged window, her cheeks flushing with a mix of vulnerability and confusion. “Was… was I just a quick fuck to you?” The question slipped from her lips in a whisper, a tremor of vulnerability lacing her voice. She looked down, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, the weight of her words heavy between you. “I mean… I know how you are with girls, and I can’t help but feel—”

She hesitated, biting her lip as if to swallow the flood of insecurities threatening to spill out. Her gaze flickered to the side, avoiding your eyes, and you could see the fear in her expression. The last thing she wanted was to be another notch on your belt, a fleeting moment in the wake of your reputation for sleeping around and toying with girls who had dared to fall for your charm. The thought made her heart race, and she quickly added, “I thought maybe… maybe I meant more to you than that.”

Her voice wavered, each word wrapped in doubt, and the way her hands fidgeted in her lap betrayed just how deeply this fear cut. She needed reassurance, a confirmation that she was not just a passing fancy but something far more significant in your eyes. The innocence she had shown moments before was now tinged with trepidation, and it left you with an ache in your chest as you realised the impact your actions had on her, feeling your heart sink at her words.

Her eyes searched yours for reassurance, wide and vulnerable, and you could feel the weight of her uncertainty. “But… you could have anyone you want,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Why would you choose me?”

“Because I want you,” you replied, sincerity pouring from your words as you continued, “I’ve liked you for a while now. I just didn’t think I was deserving of someone as pure, beautiful, and smart as you.”

A sad smile tugged at her lips, tears shimmering in her eyes. “I’ve liked you for years, you know,” she confessed, her voice trembling with emotion. “Like that time I first bumped into you and let go of that stupid telescope… I thought you were going to hate me for making you pay so much to reimburse the university.”

You let out a soft laugh, the moment turning bittersweet as the memory flooded back. “Honestly, I was frustrated at first, but I couldn’t stay mad at you. You were just… so cute.”

A small smile broke through her tears, hesitantly blooming on her lips. “I don’t want to be just… just a distraction for you.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “Not even close. You’re everything I didn’t know I needed. Just being with you, hanging out with you, it feels right.”

Her smile grew a little, and you could see the flicker of hope in her eyes as she absorbed your words. “Really? You really mean that?”

“More than anything,” you confirmed, your heart swelling with the connection building between you. “You’re my choice, Natty. Always.”

Her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and delight, and you couldn’t help but smile at her. “Can I… can I kiss you?” you asked gently, your voice barely above a whisper.

Natasha's breath hitched slightly at your words, her wide eyes reflecting the gravity of the moment. It struck her that, despite everything that had just happened between you, this kiss would mark a deeper connection—one that transcended the physical. 

That realisation settled between you, making the air feel charged and electric. You could see how much this meant to her, how special it was that your first kiss would be a shared moment of emotional intimacy and vulnerability. It wasn't just an act; it was an acknowledgment of the bond you were forming.

She nodded, a spark of hope lighting her eyes, and you leaned in slowly, your lips brushing against hers with a tender hesitation. The kiss was soft at first, a gentle exploration, but it quickly deepened as you both melted into it, the warmth of your earlier intimacy blossoming into something even more profound.

As your lips moved together, you felt the last remnants of doubt fade away, replaced by a connection that felt unbreakable. You pulled back, searching her gaze for any lingering uncertainty. “See?” you murmured, your forehead resting against hers. “You’re so much more to me than just a quick moment. You always have been.”

Natasha smiled softly, the tears in her eyes now replaced by something brighter, something hopeful. You knew that whatever lay ahead, this moment would always be the start of something deeper, something beautifully complicated that neither of you had anticipated.

[thelostconsultant]

Invisible string

pairing: Max Verstappen x reader

summary: Red Bull Racing has a new sponsor. You host a party as the head of that company to celebrate this agreement. Max has no choice but to attend, but the evening ends with a pleasant surprise after he meets you in person. Maybe he was wrong about you all along.

note: I'm everything but a scientist. If you are one, please, ignore the amount of inaccuracies. There must be a lot.

part two

“You're insane,” Robert told you for the hundredth time that day when he arrived at your place, although every time there was a little laugh accompanying the comment.

Maybe he was right. Deciding to spend over three hundred million dollars on sponsoring an F1 team did sound insane, but he did agree to do it, and you signed the contract together. Sure, sixty percent of the company was yours, it was mainly your call, but he was still your mentor.

But he didn't stand in your way, he knew how passionate you were about this sport, and your biotech company could use the PR and marketing opportunities that came with this partnership. And let's not forget about the political aspect, because there were lots of important people who loved the sport and supported a top team like Red Bull Racing.

Your assistant came up to you to ask a few questions, but once she was gone, you folded your arms and stuck out your tongue at Robert. “You’re just jealous because it was my idea. Jokes aside, it's a good thing. F1 comes to the US so many times these years, it's good to be a big sponsor of a top team. Have you seen what kind of people attend the races? Exactly who we need to charm.”

“You never had an issue with charming people without such a big investment,” he noted with a sigh.

You bit your lower lip and turned away to look out into the backyard that was by now full of party decorations. You wanted to celebrate the announcement with an elegant party at your place, and you invited board members, top employees, some important people to schmooze with, and people from the newly sponsored F1 team.

“We need some legislation changes to kickstart the new project, you know that,” you told him eventually when you turned back to him. “I wish we could afford to be patient, but we need to launch it as soon as we can.”

Robert put a hand on your shoulder and gently squeezed it. “You stress too much about that. Take it easy,” he said.

Easier said than done, but you didn't want to continue this conversation. “I need to get rid of my yoga pants and change into something red, so make yourself at home as usual,” you told him with a smile before rushing away.

“Oh, so you're still a Ferrari fan, aren't you?” he called after you, bringing up the elephant in the room.

With a laugh, you came to a halt and spinned on your heels to face him again. “Yeah, and my favorite team is a joke at the moment. This was purely a business decision.”

Max did his research. Well, it was mostly the team handing out dossiers about the host and her business partner, along with a couple of other important people who were expected to attend the party, but he did read every single page and memorized each and every one of them.

When he reached the gate of his destination, he found armed guards outside, and he let out a frustrated groan at the sight. It was ridiculous. He didn't even want to be here. But he had to be a good boy and attend to act as the poster boy of the team. Hopefully he just says hi, maybe says a few words about how great this partnership will be, exchanges a few sentences with a few people and that would be it.

“Loosen up a bit, you look terribly tense,” Adrian told him from the passenger seat.

Easy for him, at least he would have a funny story to tell at the party. The car he wanted to come with had been stolen from the hotel’s garage, and no one knew how anyone could take it. This gave him the ammunition to keep up conversations. Lucky bastard.

Meanwhile, what was he supposed to talk about? Driving? He talks about that all the time. His hobbies? These people probably weren't the target audience. “I’m not in the mood for this,” he eventually replied with a sigh.

“No one is, but sometimes we just have to play nice and schmooze with our sponsors. This is the first time they support an F1 team, I guess they're just excited.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Max replied with a roll of his eyes. “I just… I don't know, with all the things I've heard about our host, it sounds like she is some real life female Tony Stark. She already built such a huge company, she's responsible for big innovations, and she was on Forbes' 30 under 30 list… I mean, come on.”

Adrian watched him with a deep frown. “Does it have anything to do with the fact she's a woman?”

Okay, this was getting ridiculous. “God, no, it's because of her age. This isn't some app you can make in a college dorm, then sell for a lot of money. Building that company must have taken a lot of work, she couldn't have done it alone, yet every article the team cherry-picked for us failed to mention how she did it.”

“Well, from what I've read elsewhere, her partner really did help her with the administrative part of the project, but they talked to investors together. She's smart, and nice, and I one hundred percent believe she's capable of achieving this at her age. Might I add she's only a year younger than you? You don't seem to be in such a bad situation at your age either.”

Max took a deep breath to calm himself, but in the end he couldn’t hold back the painful grunt that's been waiting to come out. “I'm miserable,” he noted sadly as he parked the car.

But Adrian wasn't in the mood for this. “You're just whining now,” he pointed out patiently.

“Whatever.”

They got out of the car and walked up to the main entrance, passing by some people who looked like boring businessmen and their airhead partners. Maybe there was a politician among them too, at least one with a big voice sure made him believe that.

Inside the two of them separated, and Max took his time to take a look around. The house was impressive; four stories as he counted outside, modern, clean design, combined with a huge backyard that ended in a lake. It must have been peaceful when there was no crowd around.

After a while he went back inside but was soon intercepted by Christian. Crap, so much for a peaceful evening. “Oh, and here's Max,” he said happily as he put a hand on his shoulder and guided him over to their little group.

“Hi,” was all Max managed to come up with.

“Welcome,” you said with a warm smile. “And good luck for this year.”

“Thanks.”

You turned to his boss with a curious look. “And where's Checo? I thought he would be coming as well.”

Christian seemed a little uneasy, but he managed to explain the absence of the team's other driver. “He has a family emergency,” he replied curtly.

Max bit the inside of his cheek in order to keep back a comment. He didn't want to attend this stupid party either, but for some reason he didn't have a choice. He never had a choice.

To his surprise, you began to laugh at this, then took a sip of your champagne with a mischievous look in your eyes. “Oh, the real get out of jail free card,” you noted.

Max snorted at this, and there was no way he could hide the huge grin that wanted to break out. All right, you got a brownie point for this comment, that's for sure.

“I'm sure he would love to be here,” Christian assured you.

“Sure.” You remained silent for a while, but just when Max was beginning to assume an awkward break would settle into the conversation, you spoke up again. “Well, I'm glad you're all here. Thank you for taking the time. Please, just make yourselves at home, and enjoy the rest of the evening.”

At one point Adrian joined the little group and decided to become a part of the conversation with one last question. “Where's Mr. Hartford?” he asked.

You let out a thoughtful hum as you looked around. “I don't know, last time I saw him he was talking to a board member. But I'm sure he'll find and greet you too. Well, if you'll excuse me, I need to say hello to a few more people. Have fun.”

The three of them watched as you walked away, and Max couldn't help but appreciate the view. That red jumpsuit you wore tonight hugged your figure so perfectly it almost made him drool. Almost. He could easily push that stupid part of his mind to the side for now. He couldn't let himself be fooled into believing you really were oh so perfect, there had to be something that was wrong with you.

“Did it kill you?” he heard Adrian's voice, and when he turned to him, he saw a knowing smile on his face.

Meanwhile Christian looked a little confused. “Did what kill him?”

“Talking to her.”

“What, you had an issue with that?”

“No,” Max protested, sending a disapproving look to the engineer who only laughed at him.

“Sure? You sounded kin–” he began, but was quickly interrupted.

“You two are insufferable, you know that, right?” Max asked them with a sigh, then rolled his eyes and left without waiting for their answer. All he wanted was a quiet corner and another glass of champagne, maybe a few bites of those delicious sliders a waiter offered him not long ago.

“Are you planning to come up with something that can race against Neuralink?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake, not this again. But you forced a polite smile on your face and took a deep breath. “It's easy to come up with new, flashy innovations, but let's not forget that the root of the problem is always a bioethical one. Let's take them and their animal testing procedures for example. Whether you like it or not, euthanizing so many animals does raise ethical questions.”

“But it's for a greater good,” another man noted, earning a few nods from the people around him.

“I don't know, I believe we need to find a way to test new technologies without hurting anything or anyone first. That's one of the things we're working on at the moment. Also there's another bioethical aspect, and that's the fact these things would be expensive. The general availability is highly questionable, it would only help the rich.”

That one politician you had no choice but to invite despite every cell in your body protesting against it began to laugh at this. “And what's wrong with that as long as they pay?”

Oh, you son of a bitch, how could you be so dense? You took a deep breath and tried to calm yourself, but it was really hard at the moment. Luckily, Robert realized that this was a touchy subject, so he put a hand on your shoulder to calm you down.

“What she's trying to say is that it should be more than just a discussion about profit,” he began to explain. “Sure, that's important to finance our research, but science is supposed to help people.”

The man gave him a condescending look, as if he was disappointed that you would both choose to help people instead of earning a lot of money. What he didn't understand was the fact your company had highly profitable solutions, which gave you the opportunity to work on things that weren't as successful financially.

“For us,” you suddenly began, your finger moving in a circle as a sign that you were talking about the members of this little group, “going to a private hospital to get treatment and paying for our prescribed medication is normal. But let's not forget that almost 8 percent of the US population is uninsured. That's 26 million people. Let's say they start coughing. What do they do? They turn to home remedies because they can't afford the medical bill. Then things get worse as it turns into pneumonia and if they're lucky, they can go to a free clinic where they're prescribed meds. But can they pay for them?”

Robert nodded, then went on to add, “And it can be anything, really, even something contagious.” Clever. That guy was known for being a germaphobe, if anything, that could surely get his attention.

But he remained silent and a woman jumped in to drive the conversation instead of him. “What about different cybernetic implants? I mean, those are pretty impressive in movies, but how close are we to actually having them?”

You shrugged. “Depends on who you ask.”

A painful half an hour later you and Robert went outside, walking all the way out to the lake to build a little distance from the guests. “Thanks for backing me up there,” you told him before taking a sip of your cocktail.

“Anytime,” he said as he clinked his glass with yours.

Before he could say anything else, though, you heard someone clear their throat behind you. The both of you turned around and saw Max stand there with his hands in his pockets, watching you with a polite smile.

“You have a second?” he asked.

“Sure,” you replied as you took a few steps closer to him.

“I have to go, I just wanted to thank you for the invitation and say goodbye.”

You weren't used to guests you didn't really know coming over to say goodbye before they left. Most people usually just got in their cars and drove off without a word, but honestly, you were honestly grateful for that. But this goodbye was flattering, after all you could see it on his face that under the polite smile he just wanted to get out of here as soon as possible.

With a nod, you held out your hand, and he took it without thinking. “Thanks for coming. I hope you could enjoy yourself a little bit. I know it's not a fun kind of party.”

“It was okay. Well, except for that woman who was raging about people who want to replace real meat with artificial meat,” he added with a laugh.

You froze and your eyes slowly narrowed at him. “Wait a second.”

Max looked genuinely confused, and his hand was still holding yours without either of you realizing it. “What?” he asked you.

“You're a genius! Excuse me.”

As you dropped his hand and began to walk away, he turned to Robert with a confused look on his face. “What did I say?” No response, only a shrug. “Where are you going?” he called after you.

“To the lab,” you finally told him without looking back.

Once again, Max turned back to the other man. “She's leaving her own party?”

“She has a lab in the basement,” you called back to answer his question.

Robert’s lips curled into an understanding smile. “Send me a text if it's something worth looking into,” he said, then turned back to Max and held up his hands. “Usually it's better not to ask.”

Despite Robert's warning, Max was now way too curious to simply ignore your strange behavior. He wanted to know what was going on in your head, so he followed you to the lab inside the house. He first arrived in an office, but through the huge windows he could see the actual lab.

“Is everything okay?” he asked after he softly knocked on the open door.

“Hmm?” You turned around with a questioning look, but once you realized it was him, you nodded. “Oh, yeah, sure. What are you doing here?”

Max walked inside, feeling completely out of place. “You ran away so abruptly that I wanted to know what's going on.”

“You gave me an idea, that's what's going on.”

“Oookay… And what was the idea?” he asked as he watched you sit behind the desk and enter your password to unlock the laptop that was connected to several monitors.

“Using something artificial instead of the real thing. That way we can bypass a barrier that's been blocking us,” you replied without looking at him.

“You lost me.”

A sweet little laugh left your lips, a sound that drew him closer as if it was a siren’s song. “All right, can you promise to keep your mouth shut about what I'm about to tell you?” Max nodded, so you grabbed the chair next to you, then pulled it closer and pointed at it to make him sit down. “Good. So one of the issues with bioprinting is that we can't be sure whether or not the cells we're working with are damaged, meaning if there's a possibility of cancer showing up later on for example.”

You were so enthusiastic, but he was so damn lost. It was the result of an unfamiliar territory, and the fact his mind could mostly focus on the way your lips moved instead of the words that left them. “Wait, what's bioprinting exactly?” he asked, unsure if he had the right idea.

Nodding, you clicked on something and it brought up a video feed. “For example, this,” you said with a proud smile.

It looked like a 3D printer, that much he knew, but what it was printing was a mystery at the moment. “What's that?”

“A 3D printed heart that's being made from my own cells,” you replied with a wide grin. “Give it another few days and it'll be ready.”

“Is that real?”

“Yep. Although, and that's what I've just mentioned, I can't guarantee it doesn't have cancerous cells. But theoretically speaking, someone awaiting transplant could get it.”

Max let out a thoughtful hum as he looked back at you. “So what does it have to do with artificial things?”

“That's how we bypass the damaged cell issue. We just need to create artificial cells that we can then turn into whatever we want them to be.”

“You think it could work?”

After thinking about it for a short while, you eventually shrugged. “Maybe,” you said quietly as you leaned back in your swivel chair. “I need to put a team together and discuss our options, then we'll see. As of now it's just a wild idea.”

“Interesting.”

To be honest, he could spend the whole night doing nothing but listening to you talk about your work. Meeting you in person changed the way he had thought about you before arriving here, and now he wanted to use this opportunity to get to know you better.

He did a quick search after first talking to you, and he read an article from the end of the last year that stated you were single. That was two months ago, maybe that hadn't changed since then. But something told him you were way too in love with your career to worry about romantic relationships, so if he wanted to get your attention, he probably had to work hard for it.

Your phone's screen lit up on the desk and he didn't miss the wallpaper. It was one of those prayer circle memes with Charles’ photo on it, which made him realize something. “You're a Ferrari and Charles fan?” he asked you with a raised eyebrow.

“Yep, already getting ready for prayer circles as you can see,” you replied with a laugh as you showed him the screen. “That's their only hope, I swear.”

“Then why are you sponsoring us?” he asked.

“A business decision in its purest form.”

Was he disappointed? Maybe a little bit. In his head he was already making up scenarios, like the first time you went to a race to support him–yes, he was getting ahead of himself, so what–and now it felt like a bomb had been dropped on his plans. Sure, as a sponsor or his girlfriend you'd physically be in their garage, but your heart would be with the Italians.

Max let out a sigh as he nodded. “And here I was, thinking you just wanted to see your company's logo on a fast car. Didn't know you were actually watching the races.” He tried to keep a casual tone to make it sound like it didn't hurt him, but he had a feeling his disappointment was seeping through the cracks.

Because you remained silent for a while, and when you finally spoke up, your voice was soft and quiet. “Maybe there are a lot of things you don't know.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he responded as he rolled closer to you.

The sadness he felt slipped away as soon as it came, because it was like he got under your spell the moment he got close enough to you. Your pretty eyes were following his every move, carefully watching him as you waited for whatever was to come.

It only took him a minute to make up his mind, to take a risk and see if you were willing to play this little game with him. So he raised his hand and curled his index finger to signal you to move over to him with a playful smile on his lips. “C’mere,” he said quietly.

To his surprise, you didn't hesitate to do as you were told, you stood up and sat in his lap with your arms around his neck, meeting him halfway for a kiss. The need for something more grew inside him as the kiss deepened, and a small part of his mind shifted its focus to your jumpsuit, trying to figure out the fastest way to get you out of it.

“I'm going home on Sunday. Come with me,” he suddenly spoke up, pulling away a little to look you in the eye. “Stay for a few days. Or a week or two,” he tried with a cheeky grin.

You leaned back to reach for your phone that you left on the desk, but he had his hands firmly on your bottom to keep you in place. “I can't reach my phone,” you said with a pout. “I can't tell you if I can go without it.”

With a sigh, he rolled the two of you closer to the desk so you could get it, but he didn't take his hands off of you. As you checked your calendar, humming every now and then, he couldn't help but start and place kisses in the crook of your neck.

“How about the week after that?” you asked him as you lowered your phone. “We have meetings with the CFO, an important meeting with a certain someone that I can't delay or skip, and I want to put together the team to test my new idea. Next week's pretty crowded.”

Max cupped your cheek and made you look at him. “If there's one thing we learned from Covid is that you can do these things online. Come on, I have fast and stable connection back home,” he tried with a smile.

“But you'll let me work,” you told him sternly, to which he only responded with a laugh before kissing you again. “I hate you.”

“You don't, and you know it.”

[iamgonnagetyouback]

𝟷𝚔 || 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍 (PART 1)

♡ ︎ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: After being the forgotten one your whole life, you thought that they wouldn't forget you.

♡ ︎ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Angst, Getting stood up

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: poly!marauders x reader

♡ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ : part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

The small café was almost unbearably stuffy, the kind of warmth that clung to your skin like a bad memory. You sat at the tiny table, your fingers wrapped around the fifth, long-cold cup of coffee. Five empty cups already littered the space around you, their contents drained, and yet the boys were nowhere to be seen. The delicate pink and gold décor of Madam Puddifoot's—once sweet and charming—now felt suffocating.

You glanced up at the clock again.

They were an hour late.

Your heart sank lower into your stomach. An hour. The tiny voice in your head whispered cruel thoughts, thoughts you tried so hard to push away but they gnawed at you nonetheless. Did they stand me up?

You and the boys had only been dating for a few months—James, Sirius, Remus, Peter. It was unconventional, but you all cared about each other, or so you thought. The beginning had been a whirlwind of excitement and passion, stolen kisses in the corridors, late-night sneaking into the Gryffindor common room. But lately… lately, something had shifted.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were slipping through the cracks, that the bond they shared with each other was unbreakable and you were just some added accessory, an outsider trying to fit into a world that already had no space left for you.

A pang of doubt stung your chest. Maybe you had been stupid to believe that this could work. That they wanted you, truly wanted you. A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you stared down at the empty cups. Five cups. Five glasses, just like five people. You had been here. But where were they?

Each tick of the clock seemed to mock you. You had tried to convince yourself, at first, that they were just running late, that something had come up. They were the Marauders after all, always busy with some adventure or prank. But now? Now, you weren't so sure. The knot in your chest tightened, the air in the café becoming harder to breathe in. You were drowning in your thoughts, the same ones spiraling over and over.

Maybe I’m not important enough for them. Maybe they’ve realized they don’t need me. Just each other.

A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it. You quickly wiped it away, but the damage was done. Your heart was cracking with each passing second, each tick of the clock hammering the reality into you: they weren’t coming. They had forgotten you. Or worse, maybe they never even planned on showing up.

The idea that they had stood you up made your blood boil, but underneath the anger was the cold sting of hurt. They were supposed to be yours. How could they do this? How could they leave you waiting here, like some fool, while they—?

You couldn’t stay here any longer. The sight of the café and the sound of the clinking china cups was making you nauseous. You grabbed your things, hands shaking, and bolted out of the door, the chilly evening air hitting your tear-streaked face. The wind stung, but not as much as the empty feeling gnawing at your chest.

Your feet carried you without thinking. You needed to get away, to find solace, to bury yourself in someone who cared. And there was only one place to go.

Lily and Mary’s dorm.

When you burst into the room, Lily and Mary were tangled up together on the bed, kissing softly, not noticing your entrance at first. The door creaked behind you, and suddenly, they pulled apart, eyes wide and worried as they saw your tear-stained face.

“Oh my God, what happened?!” Lily was up in an instant, rushing over to you, her hands gripping your shoulders gently as she took in the sight of you, broken and shaking.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out. Instead, a sob escaped, one that ripped through you, and you crumpled into her arms. Mary had joined the two of you by now, her eyes filled with concern.

“Sweetheart, what is it? What happened?” Mary’s voice was gentle, but the panic was clear.

You choked back another sob, wiping furiously at the tears streaming down your cheeks. “I hate them,” you finally spat, the bitterness in your voice taking even you by surprise. “I hate them so much.”

Lily’s brow furrowed in confusion. “The boys? What did they do?”

“They didn’t show up,” you hissed, the words tumbling out like venom. “They were supposed to meet me at Madam Puddifoot's… an hour ago. And they didn’t come. Not even a bloody owl. Nothing.”

Lily’s face hardened, and Mary’s mouth opened in shock.

“They… they stood you up?” Mary asked, her voice soft, as if she couldn’t believe it.

You nodded, your throat tightening as the tears threatened to fall again. “I waited, and I waited, and they never came. I… I thought they cared, you know? But maybe I’m just—maybe I’m just not important enough for them.” The last part came out in a broken whisper.

Lily pulled you closer, her arms wrapping around you tightly. “No. No, don’t you dare think that. They’re idiots, all of them. Complete and utter prats.”

“But I’m always the last thought, Lily,” you sobbed, the hurt spilling out. “They’ve been so distant lately. Like… like I’m not even part of the group anymore. Like they’re fine with just each other and I’m… I’m just in the way.”

Mary knelt beside you, her hand rubbing soothing circles on your back. “You deserve better than this. So much better.”

“I thought they were different,” you said bitterly, “I didn’t expect this from them. Not from them. But… I guess I was wrong.”

The room was quiet for a moment, only the sound of your broken breaths filling the space. Lily and Mary exchanged a look, one that told you they were just as furious as they were heartbroken for you.

You had come to them with your broken heart, and now, you didn’t know what to do with the pieces. All you knew was that in this moment, you wanted nothing to do with the Marauders. You wanted to scream, cry, and hate them with everything you had.

And maybe—just maybe—you could learn how to forget them too.

[whore-ibly-hot]

"A Servant and His King."

Yandere!Fae-King x Fae!servant x. Fem! Reader

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Dub-con, perverted thoughts, obsession, coercion, fae related hijinks, basically monster fucking, oral (fem receiving), loss of virginity, clit play, p-in-v sex, power dynamics.

(A/N): Part two to a non-smutnfic about Puck, based off of puck from 'Midsummer Nights Dream'. Can be read with or standalone.

Part one (not required to understand)

A brief gust of wind and leaves rattles the shutters of your small cottages window, not sounding out of place when mixed with the usual sounds of the forest. However, the gust turns softer as it gently brushes against the shutters, causing them to open slowly with a creak.

A pair of feet land nimbly upon the wooden dresser across the room from your bed, a shadowy figure squatting down with a grin. The figure hops down, making its way to your bed, where you sleeping form lies blissfully unaware of the intruder.

Groaning, you are soon roused from your slumber by a light pressure on your wrist, and your eyes flutter open. You gasp, seeing the being before you and trying to pull away. "

"W-who are you! Stay awa-" a finger is pressed softly to your lips, the figures face coming into view as the lean forward. Forest green eyes and a set of familiar pearly whites greet you.

"Shh! No need to fear, only Puck is here." He coos, kissing your wrist once more, pressing the soft flesh to his lips. "Sorry to frighten you, little mortal. I would never mean to upset you, but I couldn't very waltz in through the entrance to your humble abode, especially given your mother's feelings about my kind." He lays his lithe body across yours, head on your chest as he looks at you with glee.

"Why are you here, Puck? It's late, I must rest." You say, though you don't resist the fae boys touching. "Sleep is important for humans."

He scoffs. "I know, but I have something more important than your human need for sleep. My king, Oberon, leader of the seelie court wishes to meet you." He pulls you up by your shoulders, a hand fixing your nightgown which begins to slip from your shoulder.

"T-the king?" You're just a human woman, a peasant. You've never even met a human noble, much less a faery king. "Why? Puck, I'm not, I can't! Now? I'm not dressed properly, I'm a human, I-"

Once again, a finger is placed against your lips. Invading your space as per usual, Pucks forehead is pressed against your forehead, nose to nose. "Shush, little mortal. Please, the king loves me. I am his jester-servant, his beloved Puck! We've shared many a-" he chuckles. "Amourous night together. He knows if your good enough for me, then your good enough to meet him. Don't discredit yourself, you are so much more than some mortal maid I take in the woods for a night of passion." He makes her sit up, and tries to slip her out of the bed. "He'll love you, my sweet. It's only proper I introduce my new beloved friend to my closest companion, ruler, and my king." You allow him to pull you out of your bed, and into his lanky form.

"Mmph, Puck. I can walk." You groan, trying to wriggle from his grasp. He tsks with his tongue, and shakes his head.

"No, no, no. Don't whine, don't go away. Be good. It's a long stroll all the way to the spring we're going to, just relax." He cackles. "You humans are so indecisive. Just a moment ago you were whining, 'Puck, no. It's too late, I'm a human, I need my sleep.', now you won't let me carry your frail, tired self to see the king. Make up your mind."

You roll your eyes, but suppose he has a point, and allow yourself to melt into his warm embrace, shoulders flush against his pecs.

As he slips back through the window and dances through the glen, weaving through trees and brush like a gust of cool night air, he soon arrives upon a clearing. Smooth rock reflect moonlight, as the water resting atop them comes from the babbling freshwater spring that rests at the edge of the rocks. A figure, imposing and much more muscular than Puck's is sat on one of the rocks, admiring the water.

Puck gently sets you down with nimble hands, kissing your ear lightly. This causes you to squeak and push him off.

"Stop it, Puck! I-im about to meet a king and your acting like we're lovers! Like your an enamored schoolboy!" You exclaim, and his hands only wrap around your waist from behind, playing with the cloth there.

"And here I thought we were lovers..." He feigns a sad face and a pout, before jolting forward and taking you with him by the waist. "My king!" He yells.

The imposing figure looks over, causing you to freeze, mind not really in synch with body as Puck drags you forward. The king is truly a thing of beauty, rugged and piercing as if he were carved, not from stone, but from the wood that made up the forest which he called his domain. He wears a fur pelt around his waist, covering his only upper thigh and not leaving much to the imagination. His is decidedly hairy, and though beautiful is as rugged as a human man of the woods is expected to be. He has dark curls of hair not unsimilar to Puck's, but not as long. His eyes are a deep brown.

"Ah, Puck, my fair servant friend. I was almost afraid you had planned to trick me, having not shown yet." The king muses, legs spread casually and a hand resting against his chin.

Puck gasps, hand to his chest as if hurt. "Never, my liege. Well, at least not to you." Puck coos, sitting on the rock and curling up to the man's calve. The king runs his hands through the curls of the fae man, and you are taken aback by the sensuality of their interaction.

The king looks up. "And you, little mortal, must be my Pucks new favorite thing, hmm?" He asks, head tilted. You nod nervously as the man waves you closer. You bow, and he grins. "Good, good. I assume she knows who I am then? I am King Oberon, of this enchanted woods and over all of the seelie court. Though, my servant here told me you knew little to nothing of our people when asked you about us, so I doubt you'd know what the seelie court is."

You shake your head. "No, sir. All I know-" you glance at Puck, who is practically purring at his kings touch. "All I know is what Puck has told me. That you are powerful, and to be respected."

Oberon grins at this. "That is all you need know. Come here, allow a king to gaze upon you." His hands begin to wander, cupping your face. His large fingers prod your plump lips, your cheeks, and tilts your chin downwards to look at him from where he is sat. Then, the hand is on your shoulder, playing with the straps of your upper garment, then at your chest. This sudden touch in such an intimate place causes you to jolt back. Oberon raises a brow.

"I'm sorry, sir. That is, that is just a very intimate place for humans. It's for sensual matters, when between two adults." You try to explain. Puck sighs, leaning his head on Oberons knee while the king chuckles.

"I am aware. It is intimate and sensual for fae too. That is why you were being touched there." He says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Now, you are only more confused.

"Well, intimacy of those matters between humans happens between a-a married couple, and even then, it should not be openly discussed. A woman like myself couldn't, shouldn't ever bee with a stranger like that, not even a suitor before marriage!"

"I have heard humans are... less indulgent in the passions of life than fae. All those awful, boring rules. And yet you kill your leaders and revolt because your miserable? Perhaps. Eing unable to express those urges is why." He laughs, and Puck joins in. He sense your confusion and continues. "Fae do not believing in brief enjoyment and indulgence. We live life to the fullest. Our liquor is stronger yet we drink more, our food is richer, yet we all eat like kings. And most of all, we indulge in the passions of the flesh with each other more than your little mind could take. I think if you had the opportunity, you'd see it was the best way to live." He muses.

To your suprise, he suddenly moves Puck up from his calve to his lap, holding the thin man by the waist as Puck grins wickedly. "You see, me and my servant here are close, emotionally and physically. We have enjoyed many a night of passion, without the watchful eye of my queen, of course." There is some bitterness in Oberon's tone at the mention of his queen.

"You... you indulge in passion with those, of the same gender as you, o-often?" You ask. It is not wrong, you are just so suprised and curious. You are not even supposed to think about a man pleasing a woman, let alone a man and another man. It is such a foreign idea.

"Mhmm. Being a king is hard for his majesty, and Puck... I, am happy to help him with his desires. My king cares for me, and I care for him." Puck says, before gasping and cutting off. You blush, seeing Oberons hand has slipped below Pucks leafy loincloth, hand stroking Puck manhood. He focuses only on the tip for now.

"I am suprised seeing as you are so shocked by how touchy and sensual fae are, seeing as you bedded my dear servant." Oberon says, and you immediately shake your head.

"No! I've never, me and Puck did nothing together. We drank a little, but he took me home." You exclaim, and look st Ouck for answers. He's too busy letting out soft whimpers and moans as Oberon moves his hand the full length of Pucks cock, paying attention to his bulbous tip.

"Is this true, Puck? I find it hard to believe, my servant can't keep his hands to himself. I suppose this makes you seem even more special to me, that my Puck would wish to see you again so desperately, and rave about you to me even if he had not bedded you yet. That begs the question though..." He leans in to Puck's ear. "Why did you lie to your king?"

Puck groans, brows furrowing. "M' sorry, your majesty! I knew you were so busy, and if I told you I had found a mortal capable of giving such incredible pleasure, you'd be more likely to come and see what a treasure I had found." He stammers. The king shakes his head, slowing his movements on Puck's cock.

"You know better than to lie to a king with a temper, Puck."

Puck cries out, bucking his hips and trying to chase that friction against his kings rough hands. "N-no sir! Trust me, I know if she'd just indulge, the mortal would be wonderful! She... she could be our mortal, not just mine! Please sir, I'll be good, she'll be good, don't stop." He begs.

Oberon sighs, still frowning in Pucks direction but intrigued nonetheless. "Alright, mortal girl. I yell you, if you would only let go, indulge just a bit in the pleasures of the fae, you would live a better life overall. And, should you please a king of the woods, perhaps your... what is it your mother does? Herbs? Perhaps they would see a better yield. An enchantment perhaps?" He offers.

You gulp, body hot with both arousal at the sight before you and anxiety. "I couldn't. What would the people in town think, I-I would be outcast!"

"Who would know? Even if someone were to find out, no one would believe a quiet gardeners daughter slept with a wicked spirit." The king teases, tongue poking out from between his lips slightly. He pulls you to him, and you offer no resistance. "For an untouched maiden, I assure you there is no one better to introduce you to a world of pleasure than the king, and his most loyal servant."

As he says this, the moaning Puck latches his lips onto your neck, continuing to moan as he sucks the soft flesh. You gasp.

"Oh, oh, gods." You squeak, the sensitive skin of your nape never having been touched, much less kissed in such a way.

"No gods, here, mortal. No angels or demons, only fae. Only the spirits of nature." He leans into your ear, kissing the shell. "Only your king."

Soon, a rough hand gets your skirt pooled around your knees, kneading the fat of your thigh and preparing to spread your legs and allow the fae king and his srmervant a view of the untouched treasure that lies there. You shiver as the cold air brushes across your stomach, you've never felt so exposed.

"See, highness? I told you, she's the perfect, pretty little mortal. Tease her, please? For me? I want to see her face as she experiences pleasure for the first time." Puck begs.

Oberon raises a brow and the request. "Such demands from a liar who has already been granted mercy, and is still being pleasure bu the hands of a king." He pulls his hand from Ouck's cock, causing tears to well in the edged faes eyes, having been denied his release.

"Majesty-"

"Enough. I will allow you to tease and prep the maiden, so she may except you king. Before you say anything, be grateful I don't only allow you to watch, or send you home." Puck whines, but grins a little inside. He knows the king enjoys his presence to much to remove him from this sensual scene.

Oberons large hands keep your shoulders flat against the warm stones of the spring, while Puck, still hard beneath his tented loincloth, crawls unceremoniously up between your thighs.

"What are you doing, Puck?" You whisper out softly, looking into his dazzling green eyes. He smiles warmly, pressing his cheek to one of your thighs.

"I assure you, maiden, my wicked tongue is not only good for japes and jabs." He coos. You are still confused at what he could mean, until the two thin fingers parting your folds are replaced with a hot, wet muscle. Puck licks a stripe teasingly up your center, savoring the flavour but eyes never leaving your face.

Oberon smiles down as he watches your face contort and wrinkle at the new sensation.

"Puck, y-your majesty, what is- oh, what is he doing?" You ask, trying to form a coherent sentence at the odd feeling of pressure and friction against both your clit and your entrance as Puck explores your folds.

"It's called cunnilingus, maiden. Fae have many ways to pleasure each other, but many enjoys the feel of one's mouth on their most intimate areas." He chuckles as he watches Puck tasting you curiously. "Sometimes, I find filling his mouth is the only way to quiet him." Puck giggles, and the vibrations make your legs quake.

Soon, the muscle invades your entrance, as Puck is now groaning almost as much as you. It's a gentle stretch, but both Ouck and Oberon know it will be necessary for what the king is to do later. Your aroused and needy clit is not forgotten by the fae pleasuring you, as a free hand comes to tweak it gently. The feeling is overwhelming, and soon, that knot inside you snaps, and you feel a high you've never known. It feels as though currents, waves run through your body as your maidenhood spasms around Pucks tongue.

He removes it, but continues to lap at your spent clit, tasting the juices of your climax. Oberon smiles.

"Was he good, maiden? Did you first touch by a man satisfy?" He asks. You can only weakly nod. "Ah, answer, maiden. Your being addressed by a royal."

"It was... it was very good, m-majesty." You gasp out. You look away at the sheer lewdness of the sight and Oberon crashes his lips to Pucks so that he may taste you on his servants lips.

"She was a divine nectar, my liege." Puck groans, pulling away from the kiss and now trading spots with his king. Now Puck lays by your shoulders, playing with your locks and kissing your neck and jawline while Oberon moves into place.

His chisled body places itself atop you, his sheer size dwarfing you and removing the moonlight from your body, casting a large shadow. You gulp.

"I... I've never done-" he chuckles, cutting you off.

"I'm aware, mortal. All that talk of purity led me to that conclusion. But, you won't be that innocent for long. I will be gentle, but it will hurt at first when you accept me into your sweet cunt. It's all part of the process."

You tense a little at the feeling of something hard, much more rigid than Pucks limp tongue, prodding at your entrance and folds.

"M' scared." You admit. This seems to soften the sensual yet cold king, and he sighs. Even Puck gives him a sad, wide eyes look. He leans down.

"Don't worry, mortal. I will be as gentle as any man has been with a woman. My Puck was never one to be nervous, but I have had lovers in the past who were. I will take care of you." He says.

Puck holds your hand and nuzzles his cheek to yours to provide a semblance of comfort. "It's true. The king is a fair and gentle lover when he wants to be. Don't worry, my friend." He assures.

Oberon strokes your thighs to relax soon, and soon the tip enters your weeping slit. You whine, the intrusion burns a little, especially as he adds a few inches every so often. But, he is slow, and talks you through it.

"Shh, it's alright. Your taking me so well, especially since I am endowed with more than some. Such a good mortal girl, it will feel good once you've stretched to accommodate a fae's cock." He coos.

As he begins to gently thrust, the slightly pain gives way to a burning pleasure. You whimper, his thrusts rocking your ads back against the stone of the spring. His large, curved tip is hitting the right spots, cervix getting pounded by the large man of the forest.

"O-oh, shit! Oberon, please- please, m-more! I need all, all of you in me!" You cry, and he chuckles.

"That's your womb speaking. This is your first time, you couldn't possibly accommodate all of me. But I will give you what I think, ugh, what I think you can take." He thursts become rhythmic, rolling in and out of your stretched tunnel, as Puck holds you steady and plays gently with your chest.

Oberon humps against you a few more times, moaning at Pucks encouragement. "She is so close, sire. I can tell, she's all tense and red, come on! Give it to her, let her take you. Please." It's clear Puck is still needy from not having gotten his release earlier. Still, he seems satisfied watching the king fuck his newest treasure.

"Mortal, mortal. You squeeze like a vice, such a warm, needy cunt. You needed this, to feel such pleasure, didn't you? Needed a cock to fill this cunt?" He moans. "It was fate, wasn't it, Puck? Finding this maiden, all alone. It was fate for you to be brought to us." Puck nods as his master continues.

"Your majesty, I'm gonna- its happening again." You cry, and his pace doesn't slow.

"I know, I know. I'm, fuck-" one last thrust sends the king over the edge. He groans, feeling your tunnel convulse around him as his thick white cum fills you. Puck plants quick, overwhelming kisses across your face as you climax, secretly wondering what you would look like if you bore the king's child.

Soon, Oberon pulls out, and you lay there, trembling and on the verge of sleep. Puck leans down and plants a final kiss upon your lips. He smiles.

"Sleep, little mortal. It's okay, you are safe with me and my king. I'll return you to your bed, pretty one." He strokes your hair softly, until your tired eyes close and stay closes. He sighs, and looks at the king. It's clear he could go for a fee more rounds.

"Majesty, our poor mortal needed this so badly, her body was on fire for it. We can't... we can't well let her go back to her little cottage, all alone in the dangerous wood with no one to please her. She's trusting, and she broke all the rules of interacting with fae so quickly, what if a worse one came along and-"

"Puck!" Oberon exclaims, making the imp jolt and go silent. Oberon sighs. "I am not a fool. I know how much this unique mortal has captivated the two of us. You need not convince me to take her back to my palace. As fair as Titania will be concerned, she is a plaything for you, correct? I will not have her cursing this treasure." Oberons muscular arms cradle your slumbering form.

"Majesty, I know of your endurance. Perhaps when we get back to the palace, while our maiden rests, I may please you." Puck asks, eyes wide and innocent.

Oberon scoffs. "All this acting because I didn't allow you to finish, Puck?" Oberon says, seeing through Pucks facade of goodwill and selflessness. Puck pouts.

"Isn't it tempting, though?"

"Perhaps."

[louiseolivier]

08x06 Delulu

Tevan are at the Italian restaurant. The Hot Waiter flirts with Buck. Buck's kinda oblivious. He unintentionally flirts back. Buck pays this time, and inside the folder with his card and receipt is Hot Waiter's phone number. Buck is a little weirded out because he feels like it's obvious he and Tommy are on a date.

For the most part, Tommy watches Buck and Hot Waiter's interaction in amusement. He jokes whether Buck is he's going to call him, and Buck is taken aback. Then Tommy gets serious.

"We haven't really talked about the kind of relationship you want."

Buck's confused. "What does that mean?"

"Just that there's more than one way to be in a relationship. I've been in a couple that were open."

"Open?"

"We were allowed to sleep with other people."

"I know what it means, Tommy. Is that what you want?"

"I want you to be happy. I want you to know I'm amenable to that if you're interested. Truth be told, Evan, the most important thing is that you're in my life, whether we’re together or not. 

Suddenly, the Ironside siren goes off in Buck’s head, and he’s spiraling.  

Tommy clasps his hand and looks at him like he’s the goddamn sun, moon, and stars. “Think about it. It’s not like it’s something you have to decide today.”

Cue Buck, going to Bobby. “I don’t know what to tell you, Buck, but I’ve seen you two together. I don’t think breaking up is something Tommy is even thinking about. The other stuff...you should talk to Tommy. Be upfront. Be honest. 

Cue Buck, going to Maddie. “Buck, he kissed you while you were still covered in boils. I saw that with my own eyes and wished I hadn’t. I don’t want to put words in his mouth, but he does seem very committed to you. And to be perfectly honest, the open relationship doesn’t sound like something he’d suggest out of thin air. Maybe you said something...”

“You’re blaming me? Come on, Maddie! You know damn well that’s not how I roll. I slept around, yeah, but not while I was in a relationship - and don’t you dare bring up Taylor! Besides, an agreed upon “open” means consensual. I just - how did I miss that this was something he was interested in? Why would he wait six months to bring it up?”

A sound of disgust emanates from the corner of the call center's breakroom, and the Buckley siblings' heads swivel to its location. Josh is sitting at a table, sipping his coffee and rolling his eyes. “You sweet naive baby bi.” He gets up from his chair, sidles up to Buck, and eyes the donuts he brought for Maddie. “I don’t suppose there's a Bavarian cream in there?”

“There’s a jelly,” Buck says. 

“But jellies are my favorite,” Maddie complains. 

“Too bad. I’m about to help your chaotic brother out, so I deserve it.” Josh bites into the donut and gives an appreciative moan. “Oh god, I haven’t had refined sugar in three days. How I missed you.”

“Back to me, please,” Buck says with a whine.

“Look, it’s pretty simple. There are only two types of guys who want to open up a relationship after the six-month mark. Assholes carrying multiple red flags or..”

“Tommy’s not an asshole,” Buck tells him firmly. 

“Considering he’d whittle a rocking chair if you asked him to, I’d agree. Buck, my guess is he’s scared. He's worried that if he doesn't give you a free pass, that you'll get bored with him and leave.”

“That’s so stupid,” Buck cries in dismay. 

Maddie lays a supportive hand on his bicep. 

“It is,” Josh agrees. “But just because your man is a solid L.A. nine doesn’t mean he’s not carrying around a lot of insecurities. Talk to him. Tell him. And hey, if it all blows up on you, send him my way. I’d love to be that man’s shoulder to cry on.”

Buck shows up at Tommy’s door. Tommy is supposed to come to his after finishing his laundry, but Buck doesn’t want to wait that long. “Hey,” Tommy greets him with that scrunchy smile Buck loves so much. 

“I don’t want to have sex with anyone else,” Buck tells him as he barges through the door. 

“Oh-kay,” Tommy says, closing the door behind Buck. 

“Do you want to have sex with other men?”

Tommy crosses his arms, and his head tilts towards the ground. “No. I’ve come to learn that’s not an ideal situation for me.”

Buck scoffs. “Then why suggest it?”

The buzzer on the washer goes off, and Tommy moves towards it to switch out the load. “I don’t know. I’m pretty used to you flirting with everyone.”

“You think I flirt?” 

“Evan, you told the waiter you liked his chinos while eyeing his ass. Most of the time, I think it’s cute how you rile people up without realizing it, but then I have a thought like, what if Hot Waiter would be a better match for you? So I panicked and threw out that suggestion.” 

“Jesus, Tommy. For the past six months, my brain has been consumed by nothing but you. Yet you think I can be swayed by some guy in a comfortable pair of pants? I only want you.”

“I know. I do. You prove that to me every day. I didn’t suggest it because I don’t trust you.” Tommy tosses one of Buck’s hoodies into the dryer and starts it. He can’t keep eye contact with Buck for more than a few seconds, and he looks paler than when Buck first arrived. Tommy’s also picking his middle fingernail with his thumb, and that’s Tommy’s tell that he’s feeling overwhelmed. “Uh, so like, I’m in this for the long haul. I think you’re it for me, Evan, and I don’t want you to ever feel like you’ve settled or...”

“I love you,” Buck tells him with a certainty he doesn’t think he felt even eight hours ago, but it’s the god’s honest truth. “Just seeing you makes me feel so full I could combust. ”

Tommy’s eyes are glossy and he blinks rapidly to keep the tears at bay. He finally locks eyes with Buck. “Loving you has been living in the back of my mind since...I honestly don’t know how long. I’ve been trying to temper my expectations because I haven’t been super successful in relationships. But then you started leaving clothes here, and suddenly you’ve infiltrated my life like no one else has been willing to. Next thing I know, I’m at a funeral for a long dead cowboy. I watched you embrace the memory of a forgotten man, and I realized I couldn’t love you more, Evan. Boils and all.”

Aaaaand that’s it. I’m tapped out.

[badkitty3000]

Breaking The Rules

Five x Plus Size Female Reader, Words: 8,159, One-shot

Warnings: Smut, slight Daddy kink

So I received a very lovely request from someone I won't name, but they asked for something very specific:

"There aren't that many Five x plus size reader fics, And I think that should be changed"

I immediately jumped on this idea, because yes, this does need to change. Body representation is very important. I fully admit that I normally write Five with petite women, and that's usually because he's not a huge guy himself, so I tend to make them smaller. That's kind of the standard formula I suppose: bigger guy, smaller girl? But it doesn't have to always be that way. Everyone should be represented in a positive way.

Anyway, I have tried my best to fulfill this request and hopefully I do it justice. 😽❤️☂️

You had just been transferred from Records to Case Management. It was a pretty big promotion, but you had worked hard for it and deserved it. You were excited to be out of the stuffy records room and into the main population of employees since you were by nature a very social person. At one point you had thought about training for an agent position, but decided against it. Even though that’s really what you dreamed of doing. Instead, you figured vying for an executive position would be the best route, but that would take a few more years in the machine.

Part of your job was taking the data that you put together and assigning a particular agent to the case. You were good at solving puzzles, which is why you were put in this department to begin with, but you were also very good at reading people. You loved getting to know new people and their personalities, and what made them tick. People in general were fascinating to you, and the Commission had plenty of personalities.

As usual, you had no problem fitting in with your new coworkers. You had some sort of energy or charisma that drew others in. Maybe it was your infectious laugh, or your inappropriate sense of humor. Or just that way that you had of putting everyone around you at ease. Whatever it was, it was a source of pride for you. You liked being the one people gravitated to.

There was one person that did not seem as smitten with you as everyone else, and that was Number Five Hargreeves. You knew of him, of course. Everyone did. He was a legend among legends and there was a reason for that. You hadn’t been there the first time around, when he was fresh out of the Apocalypse, but when he came back years later as a younger version of himself, it was all anyone could talk about.

Five had a reputation for being aloof and if you caught him on the wrong day, he’d cut you down with some biting insult that was just as powerful as any physical harm he could do. He was smart, agile, and brutally honest. He was also hot as hell.

There seemed to be no end to the line of women that would purposefully parade past him on a daily basis. You couldn’t blame them, though. You’d caught yourself staring a few times, as you watched him read over a file with that serious expression of his, before he nodded a curt thank you and disappeared in a flash of blue. But you weren’t really that interested in him and you knew for a fact that he didn’t date inside the office. You admired that about him, actually, because neither did you.

Just because he wasn’t sleeping around the Commission, however, didn’t mean he wasn’t getting some action elsewhere. When you work for an organization that can see anything and everyone across all timelines and at any point in time…well, rumors are bound to start spreading. And you had heard a lot of them.

As with all rumors, it was hard to determine how much of it was true, but you could at least believe what you heard about his usual taste in women. Petite, thin, perky boobs, a flat stomach, and a small, tight ass. The guys at the switchboard loved to give descriptions of Five’s latest conquests, and they all sounded about the same. But hey, good for him, everyone has a type.

So, even if you were somehow interested in him from a romantic standpoint, you wouldn’t have made the cut anyway. You didn’t fit that stereotypical mold of those other women with your wide hips, slightly bigger breasts and butt, and a stomach that had never been flat. You doubted his usual dates had stretch marks on their thighs and hips, or even a small amount of cellulite on their ass. Not that you cared. Everyone’s bodies were different, after all.

Being a bigger sized woman didn’t bother you. You were confident in your body and made no apologies about it. Just because you couldn’t fit into the size negative two jeans that were constantly shoved in your face on every clothing store mannequin, didn’t mean you weren’t going to wear what you wanted. Short skirts, tight blouses that hugged your chest, or low cut, strappy dresses. If you liked it and it fit, who the fuck cared what anyone else thought? You liked yourself and your body, and if someone else didn’t, then that was their problem.

You liked sex, too, and you had no problems in that department either. You’d had many boyfriends, and a few one-night stands. Currently, you were unattached, but that was ok. There would be another man along at some point and you weren’t going to settle for someone you didn’t like. In the meantime, you’d ogle the eye candy at work.

It was a typical day when you had your first real interaction with Five. Sitting in the breakroom with your lunch, laughing loudly with your coworkers, the room suddenly became very quiet. You looked over to see Five strolling casually in, heading for the coffee station. He didn’t speak to anyone, or really even look in their direction, but there were nervous glances all around. One by one, your friends quietly made some excuse and got up to leave. Eventually, it was just you left at the table.

“Aren’t you going to flee in terror with the rest of them?”

You looked up, surprised to see that he was actually talking to you. You pointed to your salad in front of you. “I’m still eating. And you don’t really scare me, sorry.”

Five looked thoughtful for a second and you saw the glimmer of a smile before he took another sip of coffee.

“Nice work on the Edinburgh case, by the way.”

You nodded. “Thanks. I didn’t think you even knew who I was.”

Five shrugged. “I pay attention. Especially when I see real talent.”

You frowned. “So, you’re stalking me, is that what you’re telling me?”

Five almost choked on his coffee. “What? No! Why would you…”

“I’m kidding!” you laughed. “I’m just messing with you. Thank you, though. I appreciate the compliment.”

“Oh,” Five said, clearly uncomfortable. “You’re welcome.” Then he cleared his throat. “Well, I’ll leave you to finish your meal.”

“You don’t have to go, you know,” you said as he headed for the door. He stopped and looked back at you and you gestured to one of the empty seats. “It’s ok to relax sometimes. Maybe be social? And I don’t bite…at least not without prior consent,” you added with a wink.

Five stood there for a few seconds in thought, and you figured he was conjuring up some perfectly crafted insult for you. Instead, you saw his mouth twitch up at the corner and he gestured to you with his coffee cup.

“Well, that is very good to know. Consent is always important.”

With that, he turned on his heel and walked away.

A few days later you were standing with your friends in the hallway at the end of the workday, talking about the upcoming Commission pickleball tournament you were all playing in. One of your best players had been injured on a job and now you were down a body. As you were discussing options, you saw Five walking in your direction.

“Hey, Hargreeves!” you yelled. “You up for some pickleball?”

Five stopped in his tracks and actually looked around, as if there could be another Hargreeves standing right behind him. Then he looked back at you, thoroughly confused.

“What the hell are you doing?” whispered one of your friends.

“What?” you replied. “The guy’s like a hundred years old, he probably fucking loves pickleball.” You turned back to Five. “We need another player, you game?”

Still rooted to the spot, Five shook his head slowly. “Thanks for the invite. But I’ll have to decline.”

There was an audible sigh of relief from the rest of your group. You rolled your eyes. “Come on! It’ll be fun. You know what fun is, don’t you?”

Five narrowed his eyes, but you could see there was no bite to it. “Yes, I know what fun is.”

“Well, I promise this will be all sorts of fun.” You gave him a big smile. “And as a bonus, you’ll get to watch me run around in a short skirt.”

Your friend next to you slapped you on the arm. “What is wrong with you?” they hissed.

Five actually smiled for a second, you were sure of it. “Tempting, but again, I have to decline.” Then he continued on his way down the hall.

Over the next few weeks, you made it your personal mission to try and get Five to loosen up. Whether you personally delivered case files to him just as an excuse to talk to him, or purposefully followed him into the breakroom, you wouldn’t leave him alone until you got him to at least smile at something you said. After a while, you noticed he was much more relaxed around you. Eventually, you and he were officially friends, much to the amazement of everyone else around you. He even started seeking you out on his downtime.

“Hey there, handsome,” you joked as Five strode up to your desk one day. “Something I can do for you, or did you just miss me?”

“You know, I could report you to human resources for sexual harassment,” he said as he perched on the edge of your desk, folding his arms across his chest with a smile. He had a standard manilla file folder in one hand.

“It’s only harassment if you don’t like it,” you replied, pointing a pen at him.

“I’m not sure that’s accurate.”

“Sure it is,” you said as you jabbed him in the arm with the pen, laughing when he frowned and rubbed at the area. “But seriously, did you need something?”

“Maybe. I just wanted to run this by you.” He slapped the case file on your desk.

“What is it?”

“A case I was assigned to. I read it over though, and I don’t think it’s right. I wanted your opinion.”

You raised your eyebrows. “Me? The legendary Mr. Five wants my lowly opinion?”

“Just shut up and read the fucking file.”

With a laugh, you opened it and started reading. He watched you, rather intently you noticed, while you read. You frowned and shook your head, pointing at a paragraph. “Right here, this isn’t true. The clockmaker didn’t take a carriage to work that day. He walked.”

Five nodded. “That makes this whole case pointless, then. I’d be targeting the wrong person.”

“Shit, you’re right.” You looked up at him. “Good catch.”

“It looked off somehow, but I couldn’t figure it out. I knew you would, though.”

Normally you’d say something snarky to bust his balls, but he was being truly sincere and his compliment meant a lot to you. “Thanks, Five.”

He shrugged and grabbed the file off your desk. “Alright, see you later.”

As he turned around to leave, you couldn’t help yourself. “Hey, Five?”

He stopped and turned. “Yeah?”

“I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you walk away.”

Five shook his head while you cackled at your own joke. “Can’t even make it ten seconds without treating me like a piece of meat. You’re hopeless.”

The following day, you were in the breakroom getting some coffee when you overheard a conversation by some of your coworkers.

“…yeah, I heard it’s not good. Took a shot right to the chest.”

“I heard it was a head shot; that he’s barely alive.”

“No way, I don’t believe it. Not him.”

You turned toward the group, coffee cup in hand. “Who are you talking about?”

“You haven’t heard? Your buddy was shot up pretty bad today.”

You frowned, lowering your cup. “Who, Five?”

“Yeah. I only heard bits and pieces so far, but it doesn’t sound great. They brought him directly to the infirmary when he came back. There was a trail of blood in the hall and everything.”

“What?” you cried, slamming your cup on the counter. “That can’t be.”

Your friend shrugged. “I’m just telling you what I heard.”

“Shit,” you hissed, before running out of the room.

You didn’t slow down the entire way to the infirmary, dodging people in the halls, and almost knocking a few of them over in the process. How could Five be hurt? And why was just the thought making you sick to your stomach?

You burst into the infirmary just in time to see several nurses scurrying away, and a very angry and bloodied Five sitting up in one of the hospital beds.

“God damnit, if you touch me one more time, I swear to god, I will strangle you with my IV line!”

“Oh my god, Five!” Without even thinking about it, you rushed up to him and threw your arms around him, hugging him tightly to you. “Holy shit, I thought you were dead!”

His body stiffened at first, but then he relaxed and put his arms around you in return. You heard him laugh and you pulled away.

“I bet you’d like that. Then you’d finally be able to molest me without me fighting back.”

You realized a few tears had slipped down your cheek and you hurriedly wiped them away. You gave him a half-smile. “You wish.” Then you looked him over, noticing the blood on his head and the IV in his arm. “Are you ok? What happened?”

He sighed. “Nothing, just a minor mishap. I’m fine.” He spoke louder and in the general direction of the nursing staff. “But these jack-holes won’t let me leave!”

You huffed out a laugh. “I can see you’re fine by your usual lovely attitude. You should hear the rumors going around about you, though. Pretty impressive.”

“Good. I need to keep up appearances.”

When you sat down on the side of the bed, you took one of his hands in yours and squeezed it. “I’m glad you’re ok, really. I got really scared there for a minute.”

Five smiled shyly at you and gave you a squeeze back. “I’m glad someone here was worried about me.”

You tilted your head to the side and brushed a stray piece of hair off his forehead and tried to wipe away a smudge of blood. “I doubt I’m the only one.”

“I think you are,” he said, looking you directly in the eyes.

You averted your eyes for a moment. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Maybe just one thing.”

“Sure, what do you need?”

He grinned. “Go on a date with me.”

You weren’t sure you heard him correctly. “Did they check you for a concussion because I thought you just asked me out on a date.”

“I did. And no, I am not concussed.”

“Five…” you started, blinking in confusion. “I don’t understand. Do you mean like a date date?”

He huffed and rolled his eyes. “Jesus. Yes, like a date date. Why is this so hard to believe?”

“Uh, well…because we’re friends. Also, I’m not really your type.”

His eyebrows creased together. “You’re not? You’re funny, smart, and sexy. Not to mention you flirt with me every chance you get. What’s not to like?”

“I do not flirt with you.” You smiled when you saw his incredulous expression. “Ok, yeah, I do. But that was just having fun and trying to make you laugh. I didn’t think you’d be into me.”

“Why not?”

“Ok, how do I put this? I have heard all about your little conquests and I know you have a running theme. Skinny, tiny, Barbie dolls that probably have never eaten a sandwich before. And not that there’s anything wrong with that. Everyone has a type and that’s ok. Hell, normally I prefer blond guys, but…”

“Normally?” he cut in.

You blushed. “Well, I do make some exceptions for certain grouchy, dark-haired men.”

Five nodded with a smile. “So then go out with me. I promise the only type I have is the type that I happen to be attracted to. And don’t believe everything you hear around here. Remember,” he pointed to the small abrasion on his head, “I was almost dead a couple of minutes ago.”

Hesitating, you shook your head. “I don’t date anyone from work.”

“Good. Me either,” he said, still grinning.

You laughed. “Alright, then, you wore me down. It’s a date. But only if you promise to stay here for at least another hour without verbally or physically abusing these poor health care workers. It’s not their fault you’re an asshole.”

“Fine, I’ll stay, but only because I want to go out with you.” He raised his voice so the rest of the room could hear. “Not because I need to be treated like a child who fell off their tricycle!”

The next Saturday, you and Five went on your date. When he saw your outfit, he was speechless for a few seconds. He was used to seeing you in your work clothes, which was always the same boring gray pants suit, but now he got to see you in your preferred style. A form-fitting, teal blue dress that stopped halfway down your thighs and had a keyhole neckline to show off a bit of cleavage. You paired it with some gold jewelry and black, strappy heels. You laughed at his face when he saw you.

“You look…” he stammered. “That dress…just wow.”

“Thank you.” You looked him up and down, liking the way his tailored pants fit his lean body just right and his casual button-down shirt that was rolled up at the sleeves accentuated his sculpted chest. You had never really noticed how strong he looked. “You look really good, too. Much better than the stuffy suits.”

“Agreed,” he said distractedly as he continued to stare at your chest.

“Excuse me, but my eyes are up here,” you joked, pointing to your face.

He looked up briefly, then back down at your body. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll get to your eyes in a minute.”

“Wow, I had no idea you were such a pervert.”

He looked up at you with a devious smile. “Oh, yeah, huge pervert. I’m surprised you never picked up on that.” He laughed along with you and then offered his arm for you to loop yours through. “Shall we?”

At dinner, the conversation came easily. It was nice to be able to chat without having to cut it short due to work. Your stories were much duller than his, obviously, but he still seemed genuinely interested in anything you had to say. You made him laugh with your sarcastic comments and you loved knowing you were just about the only one that could crack that veneer of his. Over dessert, you finally worked up enough nerve to ask him what you really wanted to know.

“So, how come you’ve only dated thin girls before?”

Five looked surprised and he shook his head. “I haven’t only dated thin girls.”

You cocked your head to the side and raised your eyebrows. “Really?”

He coughed, embarrassed. “Ok, fine, that’s true. But it wasn’t a conscious decision. Like I said, I’m attracted to who I’m attracted to.” He paused. “But…”

“But what?”

“But what I am most attracted to is confidence. I like a woman that is sure of herself and assertive. A woman that knows what she wants.” He looked guilty for a second. “Usually, at least in my experience, those are the women that happen to fit into the societal standards of beauty. I hadn’t really thought about it until now, though. Sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry, it’s not a bad thing. I was just curious.” You hesitated, not sure you wanted to keep pressing him for information. “What was it that attracted you to me, then?”

He looked surprised again and then he laughed. “Are you kidding? I’ve never met anyone as confident and self-assured as you. Plus, you’re funny and easy to be around. And almost as smart as I am.”

“As modest as always.”

“I’m just kidding,” he said with a smile. “You’re incredibly smart, obviously. I wouldn’t waste my time with someone who wasn’t. And…” He reached across the table and placed his hand on top of yours, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. You felt a warm, tingling sensation ripple through your body. “You are also incredibly sexy with your shameless flirting.”

“Well, I’m glad you noticed,” you said, taking your finger and brushing it over his. “And just in case you didn’t know, you are also incredibly sexy.”

“I did not know that.”

“Oh yeah. I made a lot of enemies once word got out that I was going on a date with you. Lots of jealous women back at headquarters right now.”

“Is that so? Can I get a list of those women, just in case this date goes bad?”

Taking your foot, you dragged it up his calf, all while looking him in the eye with one eyebrow raised suggestively. “I don’t think it’s going to go bad, do you?”

He shook his head. “I don’t now.” You saw him swallow hard and shift in his seat. “How about we get the check?”

When you got back to your place, you were almost falling through the door as you struggled to get inside while aggressively making out. Neither of you had even made it out of the car before you started groping one another, so that by the time you had made it home, you were both on fire.

“You know,” you mumbled between frantic kisses as Five slammed the door closed behind him with his foot. “I don’t usually put out on the first date.”

“Me either,” he said as he grabbed you around the waist to pull you in closer, kissing you along your jaw.

“Ok, I lied. Yes, I do,” you exhaled breathily as your hands wound into his hair and he moved his mouth to your neck.

“Good, because I lied too,” he said, stopping to look at you with a sly grin.

After letting out a short laugh, you were back on his mouth again, breathing hard through your nose and pressing your body against his. You could feel his arousal building as he pushed his groin into your hip. Your hands fumbled as you started to unbutton his shirt.

“Fuck, you are so hot,” he breathed against your neck. “I want you out of this dress.”

As you finished undoing the last button and pulling his shirt out of his pants, you nodded. “Yeah, good idea.” When you reached down to pull at the strap of your shoe, he put a hand on yours to stop you. When you looked up, he shook his head.

“I said the dress. The shoes stay on.”

Well, if you hadn’t been wet before, you were now. The tone of his voice and the seriousness of his face only added to the hotness factor and at that point you would have followed almost any demand he made of you. Leaving the shoes on, you pulled the dress over your head while he watched. Even though you hadn’t really been anticipating your date progressing this far, you had still prepared with a pair of satin panties and lace bra that matched the same jewel tone as the dress you dropped onto the floor.

Five didn’t say anything, just eyed you up and massaged the back of his neck. Then he let out a long, shaky exhale.

“Are you ok?” you asked, suddenly a little concerned he might not be liking what he saw.

Five nodded, his gaze not leaving your breasts. “Yeah, just give me a second. I’m trying not to come in my pants.”

Your astonished laugh was quickly cut off when you found yourself pinned against the wall on the other side of the room, the fluttery sensation of one of Five’s spatial jumps lingering in your stomach. Your squeak of surprise was swallowed by his mouth on yours, as he pushed hard against you, his hands on your tits.

When he flicked his tongue across your bottom lip, you moaned and closed your eyes, jerking your hips into him. Your hands found their way to his hard chest and muscular arms, feeling them tighten and relax with each movement. He let you tug his shirt the rest of the way off and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he pressed his face into the side of your neck and lifted one of your legs up to his waist. His hard cock was grinding into you as you drew in a ragged breath. When you felt his lips against your skin and his warm breath as he brushed his mouth over your neck, you let out a loud whine.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Let Daddy hear you,” he groaned, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh and holding you tightly to him.

“Woah…Daddy?” you breathed out.

Five nodded, moving to the other side of your neck. “Is that ok?”

“Fuck yes, Daddy,” you moaned, running your hands greedily down his back.

You felt him smile against you and his kisses turned into small nips that he trailed down your neck and onto your shoulder.

“I want you. I can’t wait,” he said, his voice husky with desire.

“The bedroom is in there,” you said, pointing to the room just on the other side of the wall.

Five let your leg down and you pulled him by the hand into your bedroom, falling onto the bed and propping yourself on your elbows as Five stood there staring again.

“Well, come on, Daddy,” you teased. “I thought you couldn’t wait.”

A slow smile spread across Five’s face as he immediately started to undress the rest of the way, until he was crawling over you, completely naked. He rubbed his cock against your inner thigh, making a quiet growling noise in his throat before looking you in the eye.

“As much as I love this little bra and panty combination you’ve got going on here, I’m going to need those to go, too.”

When you nodded eagerly, he reached behind you and expertly unhooked your bra, tossing it off the bed before immediately moving farther south and ripping your underwear off. Once you were completely nude, Five sat back to take you all in. You assumed he liked what he saw, because it was only another second before he was covering you with his own body, attacking your full breasts with frantic sucking kisses.

“Damnit, honey, these tits…fuck,” he moaned as he buried his face in your cleavage.

“I take it that you’re pleased?” you giggled, threading your fingers through his hair.

He lifted his head, holding himself over you while he shoved your legs further apart with his knees. Then he lowered himself to kiss you tenderly, caressing your face with one hand. You let out a soft sigh.

“I’m more than pleased. You’re beautiful.”

He leaned in to kiss you again, this time using his free hand to travel down your chest and abdomen, and along your inner thighs. His long fingers met the soft, wet area between them, and he slowly ran them up through your pillowy folds, making you even wetter.

“Five…” you moaned as you rocked your hips up to match his strokes.

“What do you need, sweetheart? Tell me,” he asked, only slightly condescending as he continued to watch your face for your reactions.

Five entered you with two fingers, pressing in slowly and then backing out again before repeating it in a slow rhythm. You chased his hand with desperate thrusts of your hips, biting your bottom lip to try to contain some of the noises that threatened to escape your lips.

“Fuck me, please,” you whined, throwing your head back.

He gave a quiet chuckle and you felt his hand move away from you. Then he was positioning himself between your legs and lowering himself so that you could feel his dick rubbing against your slit.

“God, I swear I’ve never been this hard in my life. I’m going to fuck you like you want, gorgeous. Daddy’s going to take care of you.”

“Oh, shit,” you gasped when you felt him enter you, just slow enough not to be jarring, but not drawing it out, either.

When he was fully inside, you angled your hips so he was at just the right spot.

“How’s that?” he whispered as he slowly pumped into you.

“That’s good…” You grabbed at his shoulders and back. “Keep going.”

Five continued his slow and lazy thrusts while holding himself over you so he could look down at your face and body. His hair fell forward over his eye and he made quiet groaning noises that were punctuated with soft kisses.

“You feel so damn good,” he moaned.

“Five?”

“What do you need, darling?”

“I need you to really fuck me. Hard.”

He looked down at you, momentarily stopping his movements. Then he laughed quietly and you smiled back. “Well, I did say I’d fuck you like you wanted, didn’t I?”

When he pulled out, you let out a soft sigh and watched as he crawled back off the bed, his dick still hard and wet from being inside of you.

“Wha--?” you started to ask, right before he yanked your legs sideways, so that you were laying across the width of the bed.

Five positioned himself between your legs, holding them up under your knees and settling them on either side of his waist while he lined himself up and slammed into you again.

“Is this what you wanted?” he snarled, continuing to thrust into you hard and fast.

“Yes!” you cried, clutching at the sheets beneath you.

Every time he pounded into you, you got to feel the intensity of his strength as your entire body moved back and forth, your tits bouncing enticingly in front of him. He gave your voluptuous ass a hard slap that made you cry out again. You instinctively covered your mouth with your arm.

“Oh, no, I don’t think so,” Five warned through clenched teeth. “Uncover your mouth. I want to hear you scream.”

Everything he was doing and saying was driving you quickly over the edge, and you did scream for him, just like he wanted. You couldn’t even help yourself.

“Yes…please…keep going…harder, please! I need more!”

You were begging and pleading while he railed into you as hard as he possibly could, thrusting his thick cock deep inside of you while slamming his pubic bone right into your clit every single time. All while completely supporting your lower body, angling it up and off the bed so he could fuck you relentlessly and perfectly.

Soon, you felt your muscles start to twitch and your head fell back, your mouth wide open as you repeatedly asked him to fuck you harder. When you finally hit that wall, you completely lost yourself, screaming his name while bucking and thrashing wildly against him.

Your orgasm was still coming in waves when Five released himself inside of you, his head tipped back and jaw set, growling obscenities while his muscles contracted and he dug his fingers harder into your thighs.

When the intensity had passed, Five let go of your legs, setting them gently down, and he leaned over the top of you, his hands on either side of your head. He kissed you tenderly, still trying to catch his breath.

“Fuck, that was good,” he said with a heavy exhale.

You nodded, laying a hand on his cheek. “So damn good.”

After another minute, you both moved so that you were lying longways on the bed again. Five held you against his chest while he kissed your forehead and traced his fingers down your arms and back.

“I’m not sure why we haven’t been doing that all along,” he joked.

“Because you needed to get to know me and my sparkling personality first.”

Five rolled his eyes. “Sparkling? I don’t know, that seems a bit much.”

When you giggled, he pulled you close to him. Your lips pulled to the side in thought and after a few seconds you decided to just put it out there.

“Are you sure you’re ok with my body? I mean, I am, but I just want to make sure you are, too. Because if this is going to continue, and I really hope it does, then I need to know you’re going to be ok with my size and not try to change me after a while. I’ve dated men in the past that said they were ok with it, but then a month or so later, they’re encouraging me to go to the gym or making comments about my diet. They all got kicked to the curb, because I don’t need that kind of negativity in my life. I am who I am and I love my body. I just want to make sure you do, too.”

Five was quiet for a moment, then he held your chin in his hand. “Look at me,” he said quietly, while tilting you face up. “I’m sorry if I ever gave you the impression that body type or looks matter to me, because it doesn’t. I just had the most mind-blowing sex I have ever had, and I wouldn’t change one single thing about you. You’re perfect.”

“Wow,” you said with a smile. “Five Hargreeves just called me perfect. Wait until I spread this rumor down at headquarters.”

“I’m serious,” he said. “You believe me, don’t you?”

You nodded. “I believe you. And thank you.” You gave him a soft kiss and smiled. “So, does this mean I can keep sexually harassing you at work?”

“I hereby give you permission to harass me as much as you want on a daily basis. I will welcome it.”

After that first date, you and Five couldn’t get enough of one another. It was like just being in the same building with him set your body on fire. You would find yourself staring off, lost in a daydream about what his mouth felt like and then someone would clear their throat or say your name, and you’d realize they had been talking to you without you noticing.

Obviously, everyone knew that something was going between you two. You hadn’t exactly spread the word, but you also hadn’t denied it. You didn’t really care what anyone thought, anyway. The only problem was, there was a strict policy of no relationships between case managers and field agents in place. This was done to protect the agents, and to avoid any favoritism with assignments. A few casual flings here and there were overlooked, but serious relationships were usually squashed. Not that you would describe what you had as serious. Yet, anyway.

You did love spending time with one another, even without the sex. You even made Five join you at lunch with your usual group, much to the shock of your friends. It was awkward at first, but when Five cracked a very dry and cutting joke about someone in upper management, the table went silent for a second before bursting into laughter. He looked at you in surprise, like he couldn’t believe he was having this type of positive social interaction. You just smiled and shrugged, mouthing “I told you so”.

Despite the fact that you spent a lot of time together outside of work, that didn’t stop either of you from taking advantage of your proximity at the Commission. You had lost count of the number of times you two had stolen away somewhere in the building for a quickie during the day. With Five’s status plus his convenient teleportation powers, you could hide anywhere you could think of that would give you at least a few minutes of privacy.

You would be sitting there, attempting to work on a case, when Five would come strolling in. Just the sight of him striding into the room, all confident and sexy with that tiny smirk on his face, made you want to jump on top of him. He would approach you with some made up problem he had and ask you to go with him so you could help straighten it out. It was pretty apparent what was going on, and your coworkers would exchange glances around you, but you didn’t care.

Once you were safely down the hallway, Five would grab you and blink you into some abandoned storage room where you were immediately attacked. You had told him to stop being so aggressive while at work, because the hickeys he was leaving on your neck were clearly visible. But that didn’t stop him from shoving you against a table or a wall, all while kissing you fervently and telling you how much he wanted you in that deep, growling voice of his.

Dropping to his knees to eat you out while kneading the flesh of your ass. Spinning you around to bend you over a table before fingering you and then fucking you from behind. Biting and sucking at your tits and stomach, leaving marks that would be hidden by your clothes, but were still a reminder of who you belonged to. All of it was expertly done, as only Five could do, and you couldn’t get enough.

The servicing wasn’t a one-way street, though. You liked to flip the tables sometimes and push him against the wall, sliding slowly down his body until you were kneeling in front of him, hands already clawing at his belt and zipper while you called him Daddy. When you would take all of him into your mouth, he would hiss through his teeth and groan loudly, his hand resting in your hair while he praised you for being good for him. He wanted you to look at him while you sucked him off, and tell you to finger yourself while you did it. You’d be choking on his dick, a hand shoved into your panties, and both of you moaning until you came; all while the throngs of Commission employees were passing by right outside the door.

It was quickly becoming apparent that your relationship was evolving into something more. You were starting to spend more nights together, sleeping in one another’s beds, curled up together and waking up happy in the morning, just to be near each other. Five loved cuddling up with you, pulling your soft body close against his, and nuzzling into your neck or hair. He told you how happy you made him and thanked you for pulling him out of his shell. He’d idly stroke your arms and thighs while you would lie together in the dark, just talking quietly. In the morning, he’d trace patterns over the white, jagged lines that criss crossed your abdomen and hips, reminding you how beautiful you were as the sunlight spilled across your bed.

Your feelings for Five were starting to seep into your everyday routines and the work you normally prided yourself on. You found yourself worrying about every assignment he went on, even though you knew he was a professional and could handle it.

After a while, the cases you started assigning him got easier and easier, whereas before you would have given him the most difficult and dangerous ones. He finally called you out on it when he received a total rookie assignment while another agent that was not nearly as skilled received a much more complicated one.

He sat on the corner of your desk, a smug grin on his face, as he dropped the file in front of you.

“What the hell is this?” he asked you, still smiling.

You glanced down at the file, then back at him. “What do you mean?”

He tapped the file with his finger. “This garbage. It’s a case for a newbie. Hell, you could probably hand this to any random person off the street and they could do it. So what’s going on?”

You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest and frowning. “Maybe I thought you just needed a break, that’s all.”

He studied your face and shook his head. “No, that’s not it. Every case I get from you these days is getting simpler and simpler. I just haven’t said anything until now. Are you losing faith in my abilities, is that it?”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. “Of course not! It’s just, you know…” Your voice trailed off and your eyes flitted away from his.

“No, I don’t know. Tell me.”

With a heavy sigh, you dropped your hands onto the desk in front of you, looking up at him. “Fine. I’m scared to give you anything complicated because I’m afraid something will happen to you. And I don’t really want my boyfriend being gunned down or stabbed or beaten all to shit, ok? Especially not in another timeline where you might not even be able to come back.”

Five took a second to absorb that information, then he looked down with a smile. “You really worry about me?”

“Yes, I worry about you. Is that so bad? You might not be as amazing as you think you are. You’re not infallible, you know.”

Five made a face like he hadn’t actually considered that before, which was mildly infuriating, and then he looked at you with that gentle smile of his that you knew he saved only for you. He leaned in and gave you a quick but tender kiss full on the mouth, even though you were still in a roomful of people that could see. When he pulled away, you felt your face flush, but not from embarrassment.

“Thank you,” he whispered earnestly.

Then he flashed you that arrogant smirk again, the dimple on his cheek deepening, before snatching a much thicker file off your desk, and blinking away without another word.

It was only a matter of time, you supposed, before Corporate caught wind of your relationship. Especially when you were making erratic decisions with your cases lately. Both you and Five received a notice from senior management requesting a meeting. You were a mess of anxiety and nerves when the time came. Your career was important to you, and it was not in your nature to just throw that away for some man. But Five wasn’t just any man, was he? If you were going to have to choose between your job and your relationship with him, you had no idea what you were going to do.

Sitting in front of the executive’s desk, your leg bounced up and down with nerves as you waited for Five to join you. When he arrived, he had the absolute audacity to look calm and unbothered as he sat down in the chair next to you. He greeted the manager and then turned to give you a wink and a small smile. You really had no idea how he could be this nonchalant. Maybe he didn’t care if you had to end things.

“As I’m sure you know, the reason you two have been called here today is –”

Five cut your manager off mid sentence. “Yes, we are fully aware. According to section 64, subsection D of the Commission Code of Conduct, we are prohibited from being in a romantic relationship with one another.”

The executive paused. “Well, yes, that’s correct. And so –”

“And so you have to inform us that we either have to end our relationship or resign from our positions.”

There was another moment of perplexed silence from across the desk. “Uh, yes…”

“But that is only because of the current departments we work for, due to conflicting interests, correct?” Five continued.

“That is correct, yes. But—”

“So, if we move to the same department, that shouldn’t be an issue?”

“Well…yes…I suppose…”

You looked at Five, completely confused. “Five, what are you doing? You don’t want to work in case management. I know you don’t.”

He nodded. “You’re right. But you can train to become a field agent.”

Your mouth hung open. “What?”

“You’ve only mentioned that you were interested in being out in the field about 50 times, so why not? They can always use more agents,” he turned to the manager, “Isn’t that right?”

The man cleared his throat. “Oh. Well, yes, that’s true.”

Five nodded again, as if that explained everything. “Alright then, so move her to my department. She has the determination and skill. And you have my official recommendation, which as you know, holds a lot of weight around here.”

There was another look of bewilderment in your direction. “Yes, Mr. Hargreeves, that’s true. I suppose we could do that—”

Five stood up with a smile. “Great! It’s all settled then.” He turned to you, still sitting in your chair and trying to make sense of all of this.

What he had said was true. You had told Five many times that you wished you could have his job. But you figured that was outside of your skill set. Five didn’t seem to agree. He knew you were highly intelligent, strong, and had the right personality. You just needed the proper training.

He reached out a hand to pull you up. “Is this all ok with you, darling? Do you have anything to add?”

You shook your head slowly. “Uh, no…I mean, yes…I mean, yes I’m ok with it and I don’t have anything else to add.”

“Great!” Five turned to the manager. “Just send me the paperwork we need to fill out and we can call it good.”

The manager shook each of your hands and it appeared that the meeting was over before it began. Five guided you towards the door with a hand on your back. You looked over your shoulder, still unsure of what exactly just happened, but you let him push you outside into the hall.

“What the fuck, Five?” you demanded, hands on your hips. “You want to tell me what is happening right now?”

“It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? They weren’t going to let us keep dating if we were working in our current departments, so one of us had to move. And I know this is what you really wanted.”

You thought for a moment. “So…you didn’t think of breaking up with me just to keep things the same?”

His mouth dropped open and then he snapped it shut again, his brows furrowing and creating deep creases between his eyes. “No. Of course not.” He took a few steps closer to you and took your face gently into his hands, gazing into your eyes. “I love you.”

You drew in a sharp breath. “What?”

“I love you,” he repeated, this time with a smile.

You answered him, your own grin spreading slowly across your face. “Say that again.”

Five laughed, leaning down to kiss you and you hugged him around his waist. “I love you,” he said again after breaking away.

“I love you too, Five. I don’t know if I realized it until just now, but I do. I love you so much.”

Five nodded. “Well, that’s a relief. Because I would have looked like a giant asshole if I did all that and you shot me down.”

Laughing, you reached up for another kiss that quickly turned very heated. When you pulled away, Five was breathing hard and he tugged your body harder against his.

“There’s an empty room down the hallway over there,” he said suggestively.

You shook your head. “Sorry, honey, but we have to get to work. I have a lot of training to start on.”

“I think you forget who your new boss is,” he said in that serious tone of his.

Five pulled you in tightly again, kissing you hard on the mouth and flattened you against the wall. His hand roamed down to your chest and he gave your breast a small squeeze while pressing his knee in between your legs. When he heard you moan softly into his mouth, he backed away with a grin.

“You know, I can report you to HR for sexual harassment,” you said with a crooked smile, even though you were having a hard time controlling your heart rate.

“It’s not harassment if you like it,” he shot back before giving you a loud smack on the ass.

Then he turned around and walked away, leaving you flustered and hot; but also with that amazing feeling in the pit of your stomach from knowing you had found the perfect person to love and that loved you just as much in return.

[ragde890]

So... Chainsaw Man 180.

The chapter starts with Yoru doing the same Bang posture she was doing before trying to attack Aging with the finger bullet. With this, we confirm that the whole Aging speech at the end of 179 happened while he stopped/slowed time (hence the blurred lines).

After that, we've got the dream scene, which an incredibly cool detail.

For those who don't remember, in chapter 110 we have a dream sequence with Asa. It's a recurring dream where she's running down an alleway, the ground full of dead chickens (a reference to Bucky, at that point of the story). She tries not to step on them, but it's so full of bodies that she can't avoid it.

People have been talking a long time now about how this dream sequence actually connects with Asa and Yoru's relationship (specially this last chapters, with Asa being just an spectator as Yoru murders thousands with her own body). Although it is important to mention that this time, there are no chicken on the floor (or at least we don't see them during the chapter 180 dream sequence).

In any case, I think it's always cool when this kind of analysis that has been under discussion for months is being adressed so directly.

After seeing Denji for the first time since July 17, we've got the Aging World scene, and the main point of speculation in this chapter: the human that escaped that world a long time ago.

I've seen people theorize about that human being Quanxi. However, I think the most plausable option (albeit it's still just speculation) is Yoshida. Not only is he someone who looks like a teenager but clearly isn't one and can survave a 1v1 against Quanxi, but also we've got this inside cover art of him from two volumes ago:

Doesn't this place look familiar?

And yes, I know it might sound crazy to interpret cover art as foreshadowing. But it's not the time this happens in CSM. Take for example the inside cover art from volume 12, where we can see what looks like the buildings Yoru destroyed on chapter 178.

Not only that, but Yoshida being that person would add to Yoshida's and Aging interaction some chapters ago (as it wouldn't be the first time Aging is surprised at something Yoshida does) and that one dialogue from part 1:

And to close, I'd like to talk about the sideburns guy "Mreeee" at the end (as well as the whole pressing his head against the tree thing).

People have pointed out that it looks as if he's trying to mimick a cycada at the end of its life (maybe hoping that it will kill him). This might also relate to cycada's role in greek mythology, as they're related to inmortality:

In any case, I think it's really cool that —now that we've seen that Aging's powers are actually the opposite of that — we confirm that devils can represent the opposite of what they're supposed to embody (which helps to the birth devil theory).

[misspygmypie]

His Little Hero

Part of the "Meet & Greet... and more?" Universe Pairing: Lando Norris x Noah, Lando Norris x reader Words: 1324 Request: I love Noah and Lando ❤️ Can we please have some of Noah telling Lando that someone was flirting with his mum at the store and he was scaring the man away saying his dad will run him over. And Lando just being proud. Masterlist

Please do not repost, thank you, and leave some feedback :)

Noah burst into the living room, his excitement practically radiating from him. Lando, sprawled on the couch next to his wife Y/N, looked up from his phone. His eyes tracked Noah’s energetic entrance, his face lighting up with a mix of concern and interest.

“Dad, Dad!” Noah shouted, tugging at Lando’s sleeve with an urgency that only a seven-year-old could muster. “You won’t believe what happened at the grocery store today!”

Lando set his phone aside, his attention fully captured by his son’s animated demeanor. “What happened, buddy? Spill it!”

Noah’s face was lit up when he started to tell the story to his dad. “So, we were in the cereal aisle and this man came up to mommy and started saying she looked like a movie star. He kept smiling at her and saying how pretty she was, like she was a treasure or something.”

“Oh, did he now?” Lando’s gaze shifted from Noah to Y/N. He studied her reactions closely, his eyes wide open. His lips were pressed together in a tight line while Y/N’s cheeks turned a deep shade of pink and she exchanged a quick, almost apologetic glance with Lando. She looked slightly uncomfortable, trying to keep her composure. 

“What did mommy do?” Lando asked, focusing back onto Noah, trying to sound casual but feeling a sense of jealousy bubble up.

Noah continued, clearly invested in his tale. “Mom smiled and said thank you but she was really focused on finding the cereal with the toy inside. You know how important that is, right? We had to get the cereal with the toy! I kept telling mommy it was the best part of shopping. I was so excited because last time I got a cool dinosaur but this time I really wanted the robot I saw in the ad.”

Meanwhile Lando’s fingers drummed on the armrest of the couch, his impatience growing. “What happened next?” he asked, trying to mask his irritation.

Noah’s eyes widened as he leaned in closer, clearly enjoying the storytelling. “So, mommy and I were scanning all the shelves and I was looking at every single box. I kept pointing out boxes and saying, ‘Maybe this one has the toy!’ I was so pumped because even though the dinosaur was cool I just really, really wanted the robot. I even saw it on the box and I thought, ‘That’s going to be the best toy ever!’”

Lando shifted in his seat, his agitation evident. “And then?”

“Well,” Noah’s expression grew even more intense, “this guy just kept talking to mommy. He was saying stuff like, ‘You’ve got the kind of smile that lights up a movie screen,’ and ‘You should be in the spotlight.’ Mom was trying to pick out the right cereal but he just wouldn’t stop. He even blocked the aisle while we were trying to get to the cereal and every time I saw a box, I’d say, ‘Is this the one?’”

Lando leaned forward, his gaze fixed on Noah with a mix of jealousy and intense interest. His lips twitched and he seemed to be wrestling with a mix of frustration and amusement. “And what happened then?” he asked, wishing Noah would just tell him more about the guy.

“So, I saw mommy give me that look, the one that says she needs help. She was still trying to find the cereal with the toy and this guy just wouldn’t leave her alone. I knew I had to do something.”

Noah continued, clearly excited to share more. “And then, I kept thinking about how the robot toy was supposed to be really cool. I remembered the ad and how it could do all these awesome things, like light up and move its arms. I wanted to make sure mommy got the cereal with the toy because it was so cool. I even told her, ‘We have to find the cereal with the robot, mom! It’s going to be the best!’”

Lando’s eyes narrowed and he took a deep breath. “Okay, but what happened with the guy?” he asked, his voice frustrated and intrigued.

Noah’s eyes gleamed as he recounted his brave act. “I walked up to the guy and said, ‘You’d better leave my mom alone! My dad’s a race car driver and if you don’t stop bothering her he’ll run you over with his car!’”

At that moment Lando’s composure completely shattered. He burst into uncontrollable laughter, his shoulders shaking and his howling echoed through the room, a mix of surprise, delight and something else, perhaps a touch of envy. He looked at Y/N, whose eyes were twinkling with pride and then back at Noah, who was beaming with triumph.

“What did the guy do then?” Lando gasped between laughs.

Noah grinned widely. “He looked really shocked, like he’d just seen a ghost or something. He started backing away really quickly and said he didn’t mean to cause any trouble. He practically sprinted out of the aisle! And then we finally found the cereal with the robot toy. It was exactly like the ad showed! It could light up and even move its arms a little bit. I was so happy!”

Y/N moved to wrap her arms around Noah in a proud hug, trying to contain her own laughter. “You were so brave, sweetie. Thank you for looking out for me.”

Lando, still chuckling, pulled Noah onto his lap and continued to laugh. “I’ve got to say, Noah, that’s one of the funniest things I’ve heard in a while.”

Noah’s eyes sparkled with pride. “Thanks, Dad! I just wanted everyone to know mommy’s special and protected. And the robot toy was awesome, too!”

Lando’s laughter gradually faded into a warm, affectionate giggle. “You know, Noah, I’m really happy to see how you’ve taken on the role of protecting the family. It’s nice to know that while I’m away I don’t have to worry about mommy being alone. You’ve got everything under control.”

“Yeah and I’ll make sure no one bothers mom, especially not if you’re not around, daddy!”

Lando’s smile grew wider as he looked at both his wife and their son. “You know what, Noah? I’d really love to see that robot you got. Can you show it to me?”

Noah’s eyes lit up instantly. “Oh, sure! It’s in my room. I’ll go get it!”

With that he dashed off toward his room. Lando’s jealousy had faded, replaced by a huge feeling of pride and admiration for his son. 

As Noah bounded back into the living room, clutching the robot toy in his small hand, Lando’s heart swelled with pride. The little robot, now a symbol of his son’s bravery and quick thinking, was held aloft like a trophy.

Lando leaned forward, making an effort to be genuinely interested in the toy. “Wow, Noah! That robot is even cooler than I imagined!” He reached out, carefully taking it from Noah’s hands and examining it with a childlike curiosity. “You know, this is one impressive robot.”

Noah nodded vigorously, his face flushed with happiness. “Yeah, Dad! It can light up and move its arms. It’s the best one I’ve ever seen!”

“I’ve got to tell you something,” Lando said, his voice softening as he looked at Noah with unmasked pride. “I’m so proud of you. Not just because you found the coolest robot ever but because you stood up for your mom like that.”

Noah’s cheeks flushed. “Thanks, Dad. I just wanted to make sure mom was okay. And I wanted the robot, too!”

Lando chuckled, pulling Noah into a tight hug. “Well, you’ve done an amazing job on both fronts. I’m really proud of you for taking care of mom and for being so brave. You’re my little hero.”

Noah beamed, hugging his dad back with equal enthusiasm. “I’m glad you think so, daddy and next time, if anyone tries to bother mom, we’ll both take care of it together.”

________

AN: The way I am obsessed with this request!!! THANK YOU! Anon, I hope you like it and if not let me know and I can rewrite 😊🫶

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