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pucksandpower · 2 months ago

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Taste of Temptation

Day 17 → Lactation Kink 💋 Lando Norris

Warnings: 18+ content and dubious consent

Kinktober Masterlist

Lando leans against the edge of the pit wall, his arms crossed over his chest as Jon’s voice drones on in the background. He’s supposed to be listening. Focused. But all he can see is you standing a few feet away, talking to one of the engineers. The sun catches on the fabric of your dress, the deep V of the neckline, the way it clings to you in all the right places.

He shifts, swallowing hard, eyes dropping for what must be the hundredth time today to the way your chest looks in that dress. The low cut, the soft curve of your skin peeking out — it’s like you’re daring him to lose focus entirely. Which, clearly, is happening.

“Lando?”

Jon’s voice pulls him back, but only for a second. His head jerks in the performance coach’s direction. Jon’s got that look on his face, like he’s caught him out.

“Yeah, yeah,” Lando mumbles, dragging a hand through his hair. He tries to nod along, as if he’s been paying attention. “Sorry, what?”

Jon sighs, rolling his eyes. “Mate, we’ve been through this. Hydration’s key. You’ve got to keep on top of it, especially in this heat.”

Lando gives a vague nod, but his eyes flicker back over to you. The way your dress hugs your waist. The way you laugh at something the engineer says, tipping your head back just a little. And the way his mind goes utterly blank every time you smile. He’s barely aware of Jon still talking beside him.

“Water. You need water,” Jon says, more insistent this time, probably noticing Lando’s glazed-over expression.

“Water. Right,” Lando parrots, reaching for the bottle beside him on the bench. But his mind is still on you. Specifically, the way the soft fabric of your dress skims just below your collarbone. How it flutters a little when you move, revealing just enough to drive him mad.

He uncaps the bottle, eyes flicking between you and the opening, trying to focus. But it’s no use. You bend down slightly to tie your shoe, and Lando’s grip loosens. The water splashes out, missing his mouth entirely and drenching the front of his shirt instead.

“Shit-” he mutters, pulling back in surprise as cold water drips down his chin and soaks into the fabric. He blinks down at himself, as if confused by how it happened.

Jon bursts out laughing. “Hopeless,” he says, shaking his head. “Absolutely hopeless.”

Lando wipes at his chest with the back of his hand, but it’s useless. His shirt’s already sticking to his skin, and Jon’s laughter is still ringing in his ears.

“Shut up,” Lando grumbles, tossing the half-empty bottle aside.

“If you spent half as much time listening to me as you do staring at her-” Jon doesn’t even finish the sentence, his grin wide as he jerks his head in your direction.

“I wasn’t staring,” Lando mutters, though he knows it’s a lie. He wipes his mouth with the edge of his sleeve, glancing over at you to make sure you didn’t notice the whole debacle. You’re still talking to the engineer, seemingly oblivious to the scene that just unfolded.

“Right,” Jon says, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “Because you totally didn’t miss your mouth just now. Completely by accident.”

Lando scowls, but there’s no bite to it. He knows Jon’s got him. “It’s the heat,” he says, lamely, hoping that’ll shut him up.

Jon just laughs again. “It’s her, mate.”

Lando doesn’t respond, but his eyes flicker back to you, just for a second. Just long enough to catch another glimpse of the way your dress dips low, hugging your curves. It’s not fair, really. How is he supposed to focus when you look like that?

Jon claps him on the shoulder. “I don’t blame you,” he says, grin still in place. “But you’ve got a race in a couple hours. Maybe try and keep your head in the game, yeah?”

Lando shakes his head, a small smile tugging at his lips despite himself. “Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, wiping at his chest again, though the water has already seeped into the fabric.

Jon moves on, probably satisfied he’s gotten enough teasing out of Lando for now, and launches back into his lecture about hydration and recovery, but Lando’s barely listening again. His mind is still on you. Always on you. He watches as you push a strand of hair behind your ear, the sunlight catching in your eyes.

You turn then, like you can feel his eyes on you, and your gaze meets his. For a second, Lando’s breath catches. You smile, and it’s like everything else fades away. The noise of the paddock, Jon’s voice, even the upcoming race — it all falls to the background.

You tilt your head, raising an eyebrow in that way you always do when you know you’ve got him wrapped around your finger. And you do. You absolutely do.

Lando clears his throat, feeling his face flush, but he can’t tear his eyes away from you. He thinks about walking over, about wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close, pressing a kiss to that spot just below your ear that always makes you laugh.

But before he can even take a step, Jon’s voice cuts in again. “Seriously, mate. Focus.”

Lando tears his gaze away from you, shooting Jon an annoyed look. “I am focused.”

Jon just snorts. “Yeah, sure. On her.”

Lando rolls his eyes, but there’s no point denying it. He’s not focused, not on anything Jon’s saying, not on the race coming up, not on anything other than you.

You make your way over, that same knowing smile still on your lips, and Lando feels his heart skip a beat.

“Hey,” you say, voice soft as you come to stand beside him.

Lando’s throat goes dry. “Hey.”

You glance down at his still-damp shirt, your smile widening. “You miss your mouth again?”

He groans, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Don’t start.”

Jon chuckles from the side. “Told you. Hopeless.”

You bite your lip, trying — and failing — not to laugh. “You okay, babe?”

Lando gives a half-hearted shrug, but he’s smiling. “It’s your fault,” he says, motioning vaguely toward your dress. “How am I supposed to focus when you wear stuff like that?”

You glance down at yourself, then back up at him, feigning innocence. “Like what?”

Lando groans again, louder this time. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

You laugh, a soft sound that makes his chest tighten. “I don’t know, I think you’re just easily distracted.”

Jon claps him on the shoulder again, a knowing grin on his face. “That’s what I’ve been telling him.”

Lando swats Jon’s hand away, shaking his head. “You’re both the worst,” he mutters, but he’s smiling, warmth spreading through his chest as you step closer, your fingers brushing lightly against his.

“Good luck today,” you say, voice dropping to a low murmur, just for him.

He exhales slowly, his pulse quickening as he meets your eyes. “Thanks.”

Your hand lingers against his for a second longer, your touch soft and warm. Then, with one last smile, you turn and walk back toward the paddock, leaving him standing there, heart racing and mind thoroughly distracted.

Jon shakes his head, a soft laugh escaping him. “You’re a goner.”

Lando doesn’t even bother arguing this time. He watches as you disappear into the crowd, his mind still filled with thoughts of you, the race the furthest thing from his mind.

“Yeah,” he mutters under his breath, smiling to himself. “I know.”

***

Lando lies on his back, his head propped up by a couple of pillows, the dim glow of his phone the only light in the room. It’s late, and the soft hum of the bathroom fan is the only sound breaking the quiet, accompanied by the faint rustle of you finishing your nightly routine.

He can hear the running water and the occasional clink of bottles as you move through the familiar steps — cleanser, toner, serum, moisturizer. It’s a comforting routine, and Lando knows it well by now, having watched you do it a hundred times.

He scrolls through TikTok absentmindedly, his thumb flicking up the screen as random videos play in quick succession. His eyes glaze over as he watches one of those “get ready with me” videos, someone talking about their outfit for the day. He’s not really paying attention, though. Mostly, he’s just waiting for you to join him in bed. He glances at the door, hoping you’ll finish soon.

Another swipe, another video. This time, it’s a new mom talking to the camera, her face glowing with a mix of exhaustion and pride. Lando’s thumb hovers over the screen, ready to flick to the next one, but something about the video holds his attention.

“I was really struggling to breastfeed,” the woman says, her voice soft but earnest. “Nothing was working, and I was starting to feel like a failure, honestly. But then I found this cream, and I swear, it was a game changer.”

Lando’s brow furrows slightly, not really sure why he’s still watching, but he doesn’t scroll away. He listens as the woman continues talking about how she had trouble producing milk, how nothing seemed to help until she tried this one product.

“I’m not even kidding,” she says, holding up a small jar to the camera. “Within days, I started lactating. It was a godsend.”

Lando blinks, his mind catching on that word — lactating. He suddenly feels hyperaware of his own body, of the stillness in the room, of the faint sound of you moving around in the bathroom. His eyes drift back to the video, watching the woman gesture to the cream like it’s a miracle. His mind starts to wander, unbidden, to thoughts of you.

He hesitates for a moment, his thumb frozen on the screen, but his brain is already running wild with the idea. The thought of you with milk. His mouth goes dry, and he quickly glances toward the bathroom door again, half-expecting you to walk out and catch him watching this bizarrely specific video. But you’re still busy inside.

He swallows hard, feeling a strange mix of curiosity and something deeper stirring in his chest. He taps the screen, pulling up the link the woman left in the video description. The product is right there, easy to order, just a few clicks away.

Lando’s thumb hovers over the “buy now” button. It’s stupid. Ridiculous, even. Why is he even considering this? But the thought won’t leave his head. The idea of you using this cream, of your body responding to it — it sends a shiver down his spine. His heart starts beating faster, a strange kind of excitement bubbling up inside him.

He bites his lip, staring at the screen, his mind spinning with the possibilities. His fingers twitch, almost moving on their own as he clicks the button, the order processing before he can even fully think it through.

The confirmation pops up, and he quickly deletes the email notification, his fingers moving quickly to erase any trace of the purchase. His heart races, a weird thrill running through him at the secrecy of it all. He tosses his phone onto the nightstand, feeling slightly breathless, like he’s just done something he shouldn’t have.

The bathroom door creaks open, and Lando’s head snaps up. You step out, the soft light from the bathroom spilling into the bedroom for a moment before you turn it off. You’re wearing one of his oversized t-shirts, your hair pulled back into a messy bun, skin glowing from your skincare routine. You look comfortable, relaxed, and Lando feels a sudden wave of warmth in his chest.

“Finally,” he says, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “I thought you got lost in there.”

You roll your eyes, climbing into bed beside him. “I wasn’t that long.”

“You were,” he insists, shifting to make room for you. “I’ve aged years waiting for you.”

You laugh, sliding under the covers and snuggling up next to him. “You’re dramatic.”

“Maybe,” he concedes, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer. “But you do take forever.”

You nudge him playfully, but you settle into his side, your head resting on his chest. “Good things take time,” you say with a smirk.

Lando chuckles, but his mind is still spinning, the image of that video replaying in his head. He glances down at you, his arm tightening around you just a little, and his mind drifts to the thought of you filled with milk. The idea is strange, foreign, but it’s lodged in his brain now, and he can’t shake it.

You let out a contented sigh, your hand resting on his stomach, fingers idly tracing patterns on his skin. “What were you watching?” You ask, your voice soft, almost sleepy.

Lando stiffens for a second, his heart skipping a beat. “Uh, nothing much,” he says quickly, trying to sound casual. “Just the usual nonsense.”

You hum in response, seemingly satisfied with the answer, and Lando relaxes slightly. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, trying to push the thought of the cream out of his mind. But it lingers, that strange curiosity gnawing at the edges of his consciousness.

“What’s got you so quiet tonight?” You ask after a moment, your voice laced with amusement. “You’re usually more talkative.”

Lando hesitates. He knows he should just let it go, that this whole thing is ridiculous, but part of him wants to say something. He bites his lip, unsure of how to even bring it up.

“I was just thinking,” he says slowly, his voice a little tentative.

“About?” You prompt, lifting your head slightly to look at him.

Lando meets your gaze, his heart pounding. “Have you ever thought about … I don’t know, trying something new?” He asks, his voice carefully measured.

Your brow furrows, curiosity flickering in your eyes. “New? Like what?”

He hesitates again, feeling a bit stupid for even considering bringing it up. But the image is so vivid in his mind, and he’s suddenly desperate to know what you’d think. “Like … I don’t know. Different things. Stuff you wouldn’t normally try.”

You raise an eyebrow, clearly intrigued now. “Lando, you’re being weirdly vague. What are you talking about?”

He lets out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Forget it. It’s dumb.”

But you don’t let it go. You shift, turning to face him more fully, your eyes narrowing slightly. “No, no. Now I want to know. What ‘different things’ are you thinking about?”

Lando feels his face heat up, the words stuck in his throat. He can’t just come out and say it — hey, what if you tried this cream that makes you lactate? He’s sure you’d look at him like he’s lost his mind.

“Uh … just stuff,” he mutters, looking away. “Like, in general.”

You study him for a moment, a smirk tugging at your lips. “You’re acting really weird,” you say, your voice teasing.

Lando forces a laugh, trying to brush it off. “Yeah, well. It’s been a long day.”

You don’t push any further, but there’s a playful glint in your eyes as you settle back against him, your head resting on his chest again. “You’re such a mystery sometimes, Norris,” you say with a grin.

He lets out a relieved breath, thankful you’re not pressing the issue. He wraps his arm around you again, trying to focus on the comfort of having you next to him, on the way your body fits so perfectly against his. But the thought still lingers, a quiet hum in the back of his mind. The idea of you, your body changing in that way, is intoxicating in a way he hadn’t expected.

As the minutes tick by, the room growing quieter and more peaceful, Lando can’t help but wonder what you’d think if you found out. Would you laugh it off, or would you be curious too?

You shift beside him, letting out a soft sigh, and Lando presses another kiss to the top of your head, trying to push the thoughts away. For now, he’ll keep it to himself. But the secret sits there, buzzing quietly in the background, waiting for the right moment to resurface.

“Goodnight, babe,” you murmur sleepily, your voice soft and content.

“Goodnight,” Lando whispers back, though his mind is far from quiet.

As you drift off, he lies there, wide awake, his mind replaying that video over and over, wondering just what he’s gotten himself into.

***

Lando can barely contain his nerves when the package arrives, neatly wrapped in brown paper with no label to give away its contents. He picks it up from the doorstep and quickly tucks it under his arm, heart racing as he slips back into the house.

You’re in the kitchen, humming softly to yourself as you prep dinner, completely unaware of the small box that holds so much significance for him. He glances at you, trying to act casual, but the adrenaline surging through his veins makes his hands feel shaky.

He slips into the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him. With a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure you’re still out of earshot, Lando opens the package. The cream is small, unassuming, and he feels a strange thrill pulse through him as he holds it in his hands. The video flashes through his mind again — lactation — and it sends a familiar shiver down his spine.

For a moment, he hesitates. Should he really go through with this? He’s already in too deep, though. The thought of you, your body responding to this, is far too intoxicating to back out now. He tucks the cream into his nightstand drawer, hiding it carefully beneath some old receipts and random clutter. Just as he’s closing the drawer, he hears your footsteps coming down the hallway.

Quickly, Lando stands up, smoothing out his shirt and stepping back into the main area of the house, meeting you with a wide grin as you finish setting the table. You look relaxed, but he can see the faint tension in your shoulders — like maybe work’s been getting to you again. He watches you closely as you move around the kitchen, biting his lip in thought. This could be the perfect moment.

“You look tense,” he says, leaning against the counter as you place two plates of food on the table.

You glance up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, it’s been a long day,” you admit, rubbing the back of your neck.

Lando steps closer, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “I was thinking …” he murmurs, his voice low, “maybe I could give you a massage later? Help you relax a bit.”

You lean into his touch, your smile widening. “That sounds amazing.”

“Good,” he says softly, the hint of a plan forming in his mind. “I even got some new lotion that’s supposed to be great for massages. Thought we could try it out.”

Your eyes flicker with interest as you glance up at him. “Fancy,” you tease, but there’s an unmistakable warmth in your voice. “When did you become such an expert?”

He chuckles, pressing another kiss to your cheek. “I’ve always been an expert when it comes to you,” he says, his voice playful, but there’s a sincerity underneath that makes your smile soften.

Dinner passes in a comfortable haze, your conversation light and easy, but Lando’s mind is already fast-forwarding to what’s coming next. He watches you across the table, taking in every detail of your movements, your expressions, the soft rise and fall of your chest as you talk about your day. His heart pounds harder with every passing moment, anticipation building.

Later, after you’ve both cleaned up and changed into more comfortable clothes, Lando pats the space in front of him on the bed, motioning for you to lie down. You oblige with a soft laugh, stretching out on your stomach, your hair cascading down over one shoulder.

“You’re too good to me,” you murmur, resting your cheek on the pillow.

Lando grins, feeling the familiar rush of affection surge through him. “You deserve it,” he says, settling onto the bed beside you. He grabs the regular lotion first, squeezing a bit into his hands and warming it up between his palms. He starts slow, his hands gliding over your back, working into the tension in your shoulders with practiced ease.

You let out a contented sigh, your body relaxing under his touch, and Lando takes his time, savoring every second. He loves seeing you like this — completely at ease, trusting him completely. He kneads into the muscles of your back, his thumbs working in small circles, and you hum softly, your breathing deepening.

“Mmm, that feels amazing,” you mumble, your voice sleepy.

Lando smiles to himself, continuing the massage. His hands move lower, massaging the small of your back, then your sides, and down to your legs. He’s methodical, deliberate, taking his time so you can fully relax.

After a while, he pulls back, his heart thudding in his chest. Now comes the part he’s been waiting for.

“I think you’re due for a flip,” he says with a soft chuckle, giving your side a gentle nudge.

You laugh softly, rolling onto your back and stretching your arms above your head, completely relaxed. Your t-shirt rides up just slightly, revealing a sliver of skin, and Lando’s pulse quickens. He keeps his expression neutral, though, not wanting to give away what’s about to happen.

“Ready for more?” He teases, keeping his tone light.

You nod, your eyes half-closed in contentment. “Bring it on.”

Lando reaches for the nightstand, his fingers brushing the drawer handle with a quick flick. His heart skips a beat as he retrieves the small jar of cream, careful to hide the label from your view. He sets it down beside him, moving slowly so you won’t notice anything out of the ordinary.

He starts with your arms, using the regular lotion again, his touch gentle and soothing. He rubs the lotion into your skin, working it over your shoulders and down your forearms. You sigh again, completely lost in the sensation, and Lando’s chest tightens with anticipation. He knows it’s almost time.

Finally, his hands trail down to your chest. He hesitates for the briefest second, his eyes flicking to your face to make sure you’re still relaxed. You are — your eyes closed, a faint smile on your lips, your body completely at ease beneath his hands.

Perfect.

Lando quietly switches the jars, scooping a small amount of the special cream onto his fingers. He rubs it between his palms, warming it up, and then he lowers his hands to your chest, his breath catching slightly as his fingers make contact with your skin.

His touch is gentle, almost reverent, as he smooths the cream over the soft skin of your chest, taking extra care to massage it in thoroughly. His hands move in slow, deliberate circles, making sure to cover every inch of you, but he’s careful — so careful — not to make you suspicious. He doesn’t want you to know what he’s doing. Not yet.

You let out a soft, contented hum, your body sinking even deeper into relaxation, and Lando’s heart races in his chest. He can feel the cream sinking into your skin, the thought of what it might do sending a shiver down his spine.

“How does that feel?” He asks, his voice low and steady, though his pulse is anything but.

“Amazing,” you murmur, your voice heavy with sleep. “You’re really good at this.”

Lando chuckles softly, continuing his slow, deliberate movements, his hands brushing over your chest, his fingers lingering just slightly on your nipples. He massages the cream into them carefully, making sure they’re completely covered, his touch as light as a whisper.

You sigh, your chest rising and falling under his hands, and Lando feels a wave of heat rush through him. The thought of you, your body responding to this cream, the idea of you producing milk, it’s all so overwhelming, and he has to take a deep breath to steady himself.

“Good,” he murmurs, his voice soft and warm. “Just relax.”

He continues the massage for a little while longer, his hands lingering on your chest, making sure every bit of the cream is absorbed. You’re so relaxed now, your body completely loose and pliant beneath his touch, and Lando feels a strange sense of satisfaction as he watches you.

Eventually, he pulls back, wiping his hands on a nearby towel and setting the jar of cream back into the drawer, hiding it away once again. He glances at you, lying there with a peaceful smile on your face, completely unaware of what he’s just done.

Lando lies down beside you, pulling the covers over both of you as you shift closer, snuggling up against him. Your head rests on his chest, your arm draped over his waist, and Lando wraps an arm around you, holding you close.

“You really are too good to me,” you murmur, your voice soft and drowsy.

Lando presses a kiss to the top of your head, his heart still racing with a mix of excitement and anticipation. “I just want you to feel good,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hum in response, already drifting off into sleep, your body completely relaxed against his. Lando lies there in the quiet darkness, his mind buzzing with thoughts of what’s to come, of the changes that might happen now that you’ve used the cream.

He tightens his arm around you, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction settle over him. It’s all in motion now. There’s no going back.

“Goodnight,” you murmur sleepily.

Lando smiles to himself, his chest tightening with anticipation. “Goodnight,” he whispers, but his mind is far from rest.

***

It’s been weeks since Lando first started using the cream. Every night, he waits for the perfect opportunity: after you’ve fallen asleep, your breathing soft and even, or when you come home exhausted and practically beg him to give you a massage. He’s gotten careful, precise. Every time his hands glide over your skin, rubbing the cream into your chest, a thrill courses through him.

He hasn’t said a word, hasn’t let on that anything is out of the ordinary. Every time you lean into him with a content sigh or drift off into a deeper sleep, he feels more confident, more sure of what he’s doing. The anticipation is almost unbearable at times.

And then, one morning, it happens.

Lando’s sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling aimlessly through his phone when he hears it — your scream. It’s sharp, panicked, and it sends a jolt of adrenaline rushing through him. He’s up in an instant, his phone slipping from his hand as he bolts toward the walk-in closet where your voice came from.

“Babe?” Lando calls, his heart hammering in his chest. He rounds the corner into the closet, eyes scanning frantically until they land on you, standing in front of the full-length mirror, frozen in place.

You’re staring at your reflection, wide-eyed, your hands hovering over your chest as if you’re too afraid to touch. His eyes follow your gaze, and that’s when he sees it — the two dark spots blooming on the fabric of your dress, right over your breasts. Wet, unmistakable, and spreading slowly.

“What the hell is this?” You whisper, your voice shaky, a mixture of confusion and panic creeping in. “Lando, what is this?”

Lando swallows hard, his mind racing. This is it. The cream has finally started working, and now you’re standing there, completely unaware of what’s been happening. He can see the fear in your eyes, the way you’re trembling just slightly, and he knows he has to act fast.

“Whoa, hey, hey, it’s okay,” Lando says quickly, stepping toward you, his hands outstretched in a gesture of reassurance. “Let’s just take a second, okay? Breathe.”

You glance at him, your eyes wild, and he can see how much this is freaking you out. “Lando, I — this isn’t normal! Why is this happening?” Your voice cracks slightly, and you press a hand over one of the wet spots, as if trying to stop it from spreading further.

Lando moves closer, gently taking your hands in his. He forces himself to stay calm, even though inside, his pulse is racing with a strange mix of excitement and guilt. He can’t let you see that, though. Not now. Not when you’re looking at him like you’re terrified of what’s happening to your body.

“Okay, okay, let’s think about this,” Lando says, his voice steady. “It’s probably just, you know, hormones or something. These things can happen sometimes, right? Bodies do weird stuff.”

You blink at him, still looking unconvinced. “But I’ve never-” you start, but your voice falters. “Why now? I haven’t done anything differently. This is just … weird.”

Lando bites the inside of his cheek, trying to figure out how to spin this without raising any red flags. He can’t let you know about the cream — not now, when you’re already so shaken. He needs to make this sound as natural as possible, something that just happens, something you won’t question.

“Hey, remember that article you showed me a while back?” He says, grasping at straws. “The one about how stress can mess with your body? Maybe it’s that? You’ve been working a lot lately, right? It could be your hormones reacting to all the stress.”

You frown, clearly still confused, but Lando can see a flicker of understanding pass over your face. You do work hard, and lately, you’ve been talking about how exhausted you feel. Maybe that’ll be enough to explain this away, to keep you from digging any deeper.

“Stress can do this?” You ask, your voice still shaky but a little more composed now.

Lando nods, giving your hands a gentle squeeze. “It could. And, you know, hormones fluctuate all the time. Maybe this is just your body’s way of reacting to everything going on. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

You look down at the wet spots again, your brow furrowing as you process his words. “But I’ve never had this happen before,” you say quietly. “This is just … I don’t know, Lando, it feels weird.”

Lando pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. He presses a soft kiss to your temple, trying to calm the nerves still buzzing in your body. “I know it’s weird,” he murmurs, his voice gentle. “But we’ll figure it out, okay? If it keeps happening, we’ll talk to someone. But right now, let’s just take it one step at a time.”

You nod slowly, your head resting against his chest, and Lando can feel the tension in your body slowly start to melt away. He holds you close, his heart still pounding in his chest, but he knows he has to keep it together. He can’t let you see how deep this goes — how much this was part of his plan all along.

After a few moments, you pull back slightly, glancing down at the dark spots again with a sigh. “I should probably change,” you mutter, a hint of frustration in your voice.

Lando chuckles softly, trying to lighten the mood. “Yeah, might be a good idea.”

You offer a small, half-hearted smile, and Lando can see that you’re still processing everything. But at least you’re not panicking anymore, not freaking out like you were a few minutes ago. That’s a good sign.

He watches as you turn back to the closet, rifling through your clothes for something to change into. His mind is still racing, though. Now that the cream is working, what happens next? Will you notice more changes? Will you start asking questions? He doesn’t know how long he can keep this a secret, but the thought of stopping now feels impossible. He’s already too far in.

Lando’s gaze flickers to the mirror, where your reflection is visible. He watches you change into a fresh dress, the wet spots on the discarded one serving as a reminder of what’s happening. He bites his lip, torn between the thrill of seeing his plan take effect and the guilt gnawing at the edges of his mind.

You finish changing and turn to face him, still looking a little uncertain but calmer now. “Thanks,” you say quietly, your eyes meeting his. “For being so calm. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.”

Lando’s chest tightens at your words, a mix of emotions swirling inside him. He steps forward, wrapping his arms around you once more, pulling you close. “I’m always here for you,” he says softly, meaning every word, even if there’s a part of him that’s hiding something.

You rest your head against his chest again, and for a moment, everything feels normal — like nothing has changed. But Lando knows better. Things have changed. The cream has started working, and now, there’s no turning back.

As he holds you in his arms, Lando can’t help but think about what comes next. Will the changes continue? Will you start noticing more? He knows he has to tread carefully, but the excitement bubbling inside him is hard to ignore.

He runs his fingers through your hair, pressing another kiss to the top of your head. “We’ll figure this out,” he says quietly, though he’s already thinking about the next time he’ll use the cream, the next step in this carefully orchestrated plan.

You pull back slightly, looking up at him with a soft smile. “Yeah, I guess we will.”

Lando smiles back, but his mind is already racing ahead, filled with thoughts of what’s to come.

***

Lando lies in bed, staring at the ceiling. The room is dark, except for the faint glow of the moon seeping through the curtains, casting soft, silvery light across the room. Next to him, you’re asleep, breathing softly, curled up under the blankets. He watches you for a moment, his heart heavy with an intensity he can’t quite explain.

It’s been days since the incident in the closet, since you first noticed the signs, and while you’ve brushed it off as a hormonal blip — just as he suggested — it’s been gnawing at Lando’s mind constantly. He can’t stop thinking about it, about what’s happening to your body, about the secret he’s been carrying.

And tonight … tonight is different. There’s something humming in the air, something that feels both electric and inevitable.

Lando shifts onto his side, facing you, his eyes tracing the soft curve of your form under the covers. He watches the gentle rise and fall of your chest, knowing exactly what’s happening beneath the fabric of your shirt. The thought sends a jolt of heat through him, a heat he’s been trying to ignore, but it’s becoming too strong now, too insistent.

He knows he shouldn’t. He knows this crosses a line he’s already been walking dangerously close to for weeks, but the temptation has been building, slowly tightening around him until it feels like there’s no escape.

Carefully, he reaches out, his hand hovering just above your shoulder. You’re still fast asleep, unaware of the storm brewing in Lando’s mind, unaware of the secret desires he’s been hiding. His fingers brush your shoulder lightly, testing the waters, and you don’t stir. He lets out a quiet breath, inching closer.

His hand moves down, grazing the fabric of your shirt, feeling the warmth of your skin through it. His touch is featherlight, deliberate, as he pulls the blanket back, just enough to give him access. The moonlight bathes you in a soft glow, illuminating your form in a way that feels almost surreal. Lando’s pulse quickens, and he swallows hard, his mouth dry as his hand lingers near your chest.

He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t.

But his body moves before his mind can stop it.

Slowly, so slowly it feels like time is crawling, Lando slips his hand under your shirt. The fabric slides up, exposing your skin to the cool night air, and his fingers move over the soft swell of your chest. He can feel the warmth there, the subtle heaviness that wasn’t there before, and it makes his head spin.

He pauses, his hand resting over your chest, his breath shaky. He’s trying to be careful, not to wake you, but his body is tense with anticipation, with something deeper, something that feels dangerous and thrilling all at once.

Lando leans in, his lips hovering just above your skin. He hesitates for a moment, heart racing in his chest, before pressing a soft kiss to the curve of your breast. You stir slightly, but don’t wake, and the rush of relief that floods through him is intoxicating.

He moves lower, his lips trailing gentle kisses along your skin, until he reaches the peak of your chest. The fabric of your shirt is bunched up just above his hand, and Lando carefully pulls it higher, exposing more of your skin. His breath catches in his throat as he sees it — the faint trace of moisture beading at the tip.

It’s real. It’s happening.

His mouth goes dry again, but his body moves on instinct, drawn to the sight in front of him. He leans in, his lips brushing against your skin, and then … he tastes it.

It’s warm, sweet, unlike anything he’s ever tasted before. The sensation sends a shock through him, his entire body lighting up with something primal, something he didn’t even know was there. He presses his lips more firmly against your skin, drawing more of it into his mouth, the sweetness flooding his senses.

You stir again, shifting slightly in your sleep, and Lando freezes, his heart hammering in his chest. But you don’t wake. He lets out a slow, controlled breath, his lips still hovering over your chest.

His mind is racing, caught somewhere between guilt and an overwhelming need that he can’t explain. He knows what he’s doing is wrong — he knows he’s crossing a boundary — but it’s too late. He’s too far gone, too consumed by the feeling of you, by the taste of you.

Lando pulls back just enough to look at your face, making sure you’re still asleep, and when he sees that you are, he dips his head again, pressing his lips against your skin once more. He’s careful, deliberate, trying to keep his movements gentle, but the sensation of tasting you, of feeling the warmth of your body beneath his lips, is making it harder and harder to control himself.

He wants more.

His hand moves higher, slipping further under your shirt, until he’s cupping your chest in his palm. The weight of it feels different now, heavier, and the thought of it sends another jolt of heat through him. He squeezes gently, drawing more of the warm liquid into his mouth, and it takes everything in him not to make a sound.

You let out a soft sigh in your sleep, and Lando’s heart skips a beat. He pulls back again, his lips parting as he stares down at you, his mind spinning. He can’t believe what he’s just done, can’t believe how far he’s let himself go.

For a moment, he just sits there, watching you, his hand still resting on your chest, his breathing shallow. His lips are still tingling from the taste, from the sensation of it, and he knows he’s in too deep now. There’s no going back from this.

Lando carefully pulls your shirt back down, his movements slow and deliberate as he covers you again. He tucks the blanket around you, making sure you’re warm, before lying back down beside you, his heart still pounding in his chest.

As he lies there, staring up at the ceiling, his mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. He knows he should feel guilty — he knows this is wrong — but all he can think about is the taste of you, the way it felt to have that small, secret part of you all to himself.

He turns his head to look at you, your face peaceful in sleep, completely unaware of what’s just happened. The moonlight casts a soft glow over your skin, and Lando feels that same overwhelming rush of affection and desire that’s been building for weeks.

He knows he should stop. He knows this can’t go on. But as he lies there, listening to the sound of your breathing, all he can think about is when he can taste you again.

***

Lando collapses onto the small couch in his driver’s room, drenched in sweat and utterly exhausted. The Qatar heat was brutal, and the race had taken everything out of him. His entire body feels heavy, his muscles aching, his skin sticky from the mix of sweat and the desert air. His mind is foggy, still reeling from the intense focus he’d maintained for hours. Dehydration was a real issue here, and it hit him harder than he expected.

“Bloody hell …” he mutters, leaning his head back against the wall, eyes closed.

You’re there almost immediately, a soft, comforting presence at his side. You place a hand on his knee, your touch warm and reassuring.

“You okay?” You ask, your voice soft but full of concern.

Lando opens his eyes slightly, giving you a tired smile. “Yeah … just need to rehydrate. I feel like a raisin.” He forces a chuckle, though his voice is rough, throat dry from the heat.

You stand, quickly moving to the small fridge in the corner of the room. “I’ll get you some water,” you say, already pulling out a bottle and twisting off the cap. “You need to replenish your electrolytes too. You’re completely wiped.”

Lando watches you, his mind still hazy, but there’s something about the way you move, the way you’re so focused on taking care of him, that pulls him out of his fog. You’re always like this after a race — attentive, calm, making sure he’s okay before you even think about yourself. He loves that about you, the way you care for him in these quiet, personal moments.

But today, there’s something else on his mind. Something he’s been thinking about for weeks, ever since that night in bed.

Lando licks his dry lips, his heart picking up speed as a thought crosses his mind. You’ve been by his side this entire time, completely unaware of what he’s been doing, of the secret he’s been keeping. He’s managed to keep things under control, to keep his obsession at bay, but now … now he’s not sure if he can.

He watches as you return to him, holding the bottle of water and a sports drink, and sits down beside him. You hand him the water first, but he hesitates, his fingers curling around the bottle without taking a sip.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, your brow furrowed as you look at him.

Lando swallows, his mouth dry, but not just from dehydration. His eyes flick to your chest, lingering for a moment before quickly returning to your face. “I, uh … I was thinking,” he says, trying to keep his voice casual, though his heart is pounding in his chest. “Maybe I could … try something else.”

You blink at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

He hesitates, his mind racing as he tries to find the right words. He knows he’s pushing it, knows this is dangerous territory, but the thought of tasting you again — of having that secret part of you, especially now, when he’s so raw and exhausted — feels impossible to resist.

“I mean,” he starts, his voice low, “maybe I could try … you.”

Your eyes widen slightly, and you glance down at yourself, clearly taken aback. “Me? Lando, what are you talking about?”

He shifts slightly, his body tense, but his gaze stays on you, steady despite the pounding of his heart. “I know it sounds weird,” he says quickly, before you can protest. “But … I’m so dehydrated, and … you know, with everything that’s been happening, I just thought … maybe it could help.”

You stare at him for a moment, clearly trying to process what he’s saying. “You … you want to …”

He nods, his throat tight as he watches your reaction. “Just a little. I mean, it’s natural, right? And you’ve been producing, so … I thought it might help. If you’re okay with it.”

You’re silent for a long moment, clearly taken aback, and Lando can see the uncertainty in your eyes. His heart pounds harder, the tension in the room thickening as he waits for your response.

Finally, you let out a breath, glancing down at yourself before looking back at him. “You really think it’ll help?”

Lando nods again, though he knows that’s not really the point. It’s not about the dehydration, not really. But you don’t need to know that. You don’t need to know how much he’s been thinking about this, how much he craves it.

“I think it might,” he says softly, reaching out to gently place a hand on your knee. “Just a little. If you’re comfortable with it.”

You bite your lip, clearly still unsure, but there’s a softness in your eyes, a desire to help him, to take care of him in whatever way you can. Slowly, you nod.

“Okay,” you say quietly. “If you think it’ll help.”

Lando’s heart skips a beat, a rush of excitement flooding through him as you agree. He shifts closer to you on the couch, his hand sliding up your leg to rest on your thigh as he looks into your eyes.

“Are you sure?” He asks, his voice low, though he’s already leaning in, already feeling the pull toward you.

You nod again, though there’s still a hint of hesitation in your expression. “Yeah. I just … I didn’t expect this.”

Lando smiles softly, trying to put you at ease, though inside, his mind is racing. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, his hand gently squeezing your thigh. “We’ll take it slow.”

You take a deep breath, and then, with a small nod, you lift the hem of your shirt, exposing your chest to him. Lando’s breath catches in his throat, his eyes immediately drawn to the soft curve of your skin, the subtle sheen of moisture that’s already starting to form.

His mouth goes dry again, but this time, it’s not from the heat.

He leans in slowly, his hand sliding up to cup your breast as his lips brush against your skin. You tense slightly under his touch, but you don’t pull away, and Lando takes that as his cue to continue. He presses a soft kiss to your skin, his heart racing in his chest as he feels the warmth of you beneath his lips.

For a moment, he just stays there, breathing you in, savoring the closeness. Then, slowly, carefully, he opens his mouth and takes you in, drawing the sweet liquid into his mouth.

The taste hits him instantly, flooding his senses with warmth and sweetness. It’s just as he remembered — no, better. The heat, the exhaustion, the rawness of the race — it all amplifies the sensation, making it feel more intense, more real.

He can feel you tense again, a soft gasp escaping your lips, and he pulls back slightly, looking up at you with wide eyes. “You okay?” He asks softly, his voice thick.

You nod, though your breathing is shaky, your hand coming up to rest on his shoulder. “Yeah … I’m okay. It’s just … different.”

Lando nods, understanding, but he can’t stop now. He leans in again, his lips pressing against you once more as he drinks from you, taking in the warmth, the sweetness. It feels like he’s finally giving in to something he’s been craving for so long, and the rush of it makes his head spin.

He moves his hand gently, squeezing softly as he continues, feeling the way your body reacts to him, the way you tremble under his touch. It sends a thrill through him, a deep, primal satisfaction that he can’t explain.

You let out a soft sigh, your fingers tightening on his shoulder, and Lando feels a surge of heat in his chest. He’s careful, though — he doesn’t want to push too far, doesn’t want to scare you. He pulls back after a moment, looking up at you again with that same soft smile.

“How was that?” He asks, his voice gentle.

You look down at him, your expression still a mix of confusion and something else — something softer, more vulnerable. “It was … okay,” you say quietly. “Just … unexpected.”

Lando nods, reaching up to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “Thank you,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. “I feel a lot better now.”

You smile at him, though it’s a small, uncertain smile, and Lando knows that this is something you’re still processing. But for him … for him, it feels like the beginning of something he’s been waiting for. Something he’s been craving.

As you pull your shirt back down and settle beside him on the couch, Lando leans back, his heart still racing, his mind spinning with everything that just happened. He knows he’s playing with fire, knows that this secret is dangerous, but for now, he’s content.

***

Lando is lying on the couch, lazily scrolling through his phone, the sound of the TV humming in the background. It’s a quiet afternoon, the kind of rare downtime that he savors between races. His body still feels the residual tension from the last few weeks, the physical demands of driving through the relentless heat of Qatar lingering in his muscles.

You’re in the bedroom, sorting through some things. Lando hears the occasional thud of a drawer closing, the rustling of clothes. Everything feels normal. Calm, even.

Until it isn’t.

“Lando!”

Your voice slices through the quiet, sharp and tense. His heart stutters in his chest. The way you say his name — it’s not in the usual tone. There’s something off about it, something more than the usual annoyance over small things.

He sits up, his phone forgotten in his lap. “Yeah?” He calls back, trying to sound casual, but there’s a tightness in his throat.

You appear in the doorway, and immediately, Lando knows something’s wrong. You’re holding something in your hand — a small, innocuous-looking jar. But he recognizes it instantly.

The cream. The cream he thought he’d hidden well enough.

He swallows hard, his pulse quickening. “What’s that?” He asks, feigning ignorance, but his voice wavers ever so slightly.

You step closer, holding up the jar. Your eyes are sharp, full of confusion, but also something else — betrayal, anger, hurt. “I found this,” you say, your voice tight. “In the back of the drawer. Where you obviously didn’t want me to find it.”

Lando shifts uncomfortably on the couch, his mind racing as he tries to come up with an excuse, anything to diffuse the situation. He hadn’t expected this. He thought he’d been careful. “It’s just … it’s just some lotion,” he says, but even as the words leave his mouth, he knows they’re not enough.

Your eyes narrow. “Lotion? Lando, this is not just lotion. This is-” You pause, your breath shaky. “This is the cream that’s supposed to induce lactation, isn’t it?”

He feels his stomach drop. There’s no point in denying it now. You’ve found the evidence, and there’s no going back from this. But he can’t let you stay angry. He can’t let this ruin everything. He’s worked too hard to get to this point, and he doesn’t want to lose what he’s gained.

“Look, I can explain,” he says, standing up from the couch, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender. He tries to keep his voice calm, soothing. “I didn’t mean to hide it from you. I just … I thought it would help.”

You stare at him, your expression a mix of disbelief and anger. “Help? Help with what, Lando? You’ve been putting this on me without telling me! Do you realize how messed up that is?”

He steps closer, his heart pounding. “I know. I know it sounds bad. But I didn’t mean for it to be like this. I just … I wanted to try something new. I wanted to feel closer to you.”

You shake your head, incredulous. “Closer to me? By making my body do something without my knowledge? This is so far beyond okay. This is — this is a violation of trust.”

Lando feels a surge of panic. He can’t let this spiral out of control. He can’t let you leave, or worse, shut him out. He takes a step closer, his voice dropping to a softer tone, almost pleading. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I swear. I just-” He hesitates, then says, “I didn’t know how to ask for it.”

Your brows furrow, and you look away, your hand tightening around the jar. Lando can see the conflict in your eyes — the hurt, the confusion, the anger. And he knows that if he doesn’t do something now, he might lose you.

He takes another step closer, his voice gentle. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his hand reaching out to brush your arm. “I just … I couldn’t help it. I’ve been so obsessed with you, with us, and it felt … it felt natural. I didn’t want to scare you.”

You shake your head again, but your anger seems to falter, just a little. “This is … this isn’t something you just hide from someone. You can’t make decisions about my body like that.”

“I know,” he says quickly. “I know. I shouldn’t have done it without telling you. But I didn’t know how to bring it up. I didn’t want to make things weird between us.”

You look at him, your eyes searching his face, and Lando feels a small flicker of hope. He can see that you’re still upset, but there’s a crack in the wall you’ve put up, a softness starting to seep through.

He takes another step, closing the distance between you, his hand gently cupping your cheek. “Please,” he whispers. “Let me make it up to you. I don’t want to lose this. I don’t want to lose us.”

You sigh, closing your eyes for a moment, and Lando can feel the tension in the room shift, just slightly. He knows he’s not out of the woods yet, but he’s close. So close.

“Lando …” you begin, but he cuts you off by leaning in, pressing his lips to yours in a soft, desperate kiss. You hesitate at first, but after a moment, you kiss him back, your lips warm and familiar against his.

When he pulls away, his voice is low, almost a whisper. “Let me show you. Let me take care of you.”

You look at him, your eyes still conflicted, but there’s something else there now — curiosity, maybe, or a need for comfort. Lando takes that as his cue to continue, his hands moving to gently guide you to sit down on the edge of the bed.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again, his hands moving to your shoulders, massaging gently. “I know I messed up. But I want to make it right.”

You don’t say anything, but you don’t resist either. Lando’s hands slide down your arms, soothing and gentle, as he kneels in front of you. He looks up at you, his eyes soft, pleading.

“Let me,” he murmurs, his hands moving to the hem of your shirt, tugging it up slightly. You hesitate for a moment, but then you nod, allowing him to lift it higher, exposing your chest.

Lando’s breath catches in his throat as he looks at you, the soft curve of your body illuminated by the dim light in the room. He presses a kiss to your stomach, his lips warm against your skin.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re perfect.”

You let out a shaky breath, your hand resting on the back of his head as he kisses his way up your chest, his lips trailing along your skin. He pauses at your breast, his lips hovering just above the soft peak.

“Please,” he whispers again, looking up at you. “Let me.”

You nod, your breath shaky, and Lando takes that as permission. He leans in, his mouth closing around you, drawing you in with slow, deliberate movements. The sweet warmth floods his senses, and he feels a rush of satisfaction, of need.

You gasp softly, your fingers tightening in his hair, and Lando’s heart swells with a mix of desire and relief. He’s got you now. He knows he’s distracting you, pulling you away from the anger, and it’s working. You’re softening under his touch, your body responding to him.

He coos softly, his lips never leaving your skin. “You taste so good,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “So perfect.”

You let out a soft whimper, your hand gripping his shoulder as he continues, his mouth moving gently, rhythmically. He can feel you relaxing, the tension slowly melting away, and it fills him with a deep sense of satisfaction. He’s in control now. He’s guiding you, distracting you, making sure you’re focused on him and nothing else.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, his voice soft and coaxing. “I’ve got you.”

Your breathing is shallow, your body trembling under his touch, and Lando can feel the shift in the room. The anger, the hurt — it’s slipping away, replaced by something else. Something more intimate, more vulnerable.

He pulls back slightly, his lips still brushing against your skin, his eyes looking up at you with that same soft, pleading expression. “I’m sorry,” he whispers again, his voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wanted to be close to you.”

You look down at him, your eyes still clouded with confusion and emotion, but you don’t pull away. Your hand stays on his shoulder, your fingers tightening slightly as if you’re holding on to him, grounding yourself.

Lando leans in again, pressing another soft kiss to your chest, his lips lingering there for a moment before he pulls back completely, sitting back on his heels and looking up at you.

“I love you,” he says quietly, his voice raw. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.”

You’re silent for a long moment, your chest rising and falling with deep, steady breaths. Finally, you speak, your voice soft, almost unsure. “This … this is a lot, Lando.”

He swallows hard, reading the uncertainty in your voice, feeling the weight of it settle between you. His heart races, but he knows he can’t push too fast. He doesn’t want to scare you, doesn’t want to lose what they’ve built. This delicate moment, the fragile balance between trust and something deeper — he can feel it teetering.

He stays where he is, kneeling at your feet, looking up at you with that same desperate softness in his eyes. His hands rest gently on your thighs, thumbs brushing back and forth, a soothing rhythm. He knows he has to choose his words carefully.

“I know,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “I know it's a lot. And I know I should’ve told you from the start. But …” He pauses, gathering his thoughts. “It felt right. The connection. The closeness. I just-”

Lando falters, unsure if he should say what’s really on his mind. That he's obsessed with the idea of you like this, that every time he sees you, he’s overcome with a need so deep, so primal, it almost scares him. But he swallows it back, not wanting to push too far, too fast.

Your gaze softens, and although the hesitation lingers in your eyes, you’re listening. You’re still here.

“I just wanted more of you,” Lando continues, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not just physically, but emotionally too. It’s been … it’s been overwhelming for me too, but I didn’t know how to explain it. I thought if we … if you … I don’t know. Maybe it was selfish, but I just-”

He looks down, his head hanging low as if ashamed, his hands still gently resting on your thighs. “I didn’t want to scare you off by talking about it. I thought you might think it was weird.”

Your hand reaches out, fingers lightly brushing the top of his head. He looks up at you again, the gentleness of your touch melting the knot of tension in his chest.

“I don’t think you’re weird,” you say quietly, the uncertainty still there but softer now, more understanding. “But … Lando, this is my body. You should’ve talked to me. We could’ve figured it out together.”

Lando nods quickly, his throat tightening. “I know, I know. And I’m so sorry for not being honest. I’ll do better, I swear. I’ll never hide anything from you again.”

Your thumb grazes his cheek as you watch him carefully, the anger you’d felt earlier fading into something else. Something gentler. “I just don’t understand why you didn’t ask me.”

He lets out a shaky breath. “I didn’t want you to say no,” he admits quietly. “Because … I don’t know if I could’ve handled that.”

Silence falls between you, thick with emotion. You let your hand fall away from his face, resting it in your lap as you consider his words, his vulnerability.

Lando can see the gears turning in your head, the mix of confusion, curiosity, and maybe — just maybe — something that mirrors his own desire. He watches you carefully, searching your face for any sign of where this might be heading.

Finally, you let out a soft sigh. “So, you … want me to keep … producing?”

Lando’s eyes widen slightly, and he nods, his heart racing again. “Only if you want to,” he says quickly, his voice soft but insistent. “I won’t push you. But … yeah. I do.”

Your gaze drifts down, and you chew on your bottom lip, thinking it over. Lando’s pulse quickens, the air between you charged with tension and something deeper, something unspoken.

After what feels like an eternity, you finally meet his eyes again, your expression hesitant but open. “And … you want to …”

Lando nods again, this time more firmly. “I do. But only if you're okay with it.”

The silence stretches again, but it feels different now. Lando can feel the shift, the softening. You’re not angry anymore. You’re curious, unsure, but there’s a flicker of trust in your eyes again. It’s fragile, but it’s there.

“You could’ve just asked me,” you say, your voice softer now, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

Lando exhales a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, his own smile breaking through the tension. “I know. I should’ve. I’m an idiot.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head, and the sound of it is like music to his ears. It’s a relief, like the storm clouds parting just enough to let a sliver of sunlight through.

He reaches out again, his hand gently resting on your knee, his touch warm and grounding. “But … do you want to?” He asks, his voice quiet, hesitant. “We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable. I mean it.”

You look down for a moment, your hands playing with the hem of your shirt, before meeting his eyes again. There’s still a flicker of uncertainty there, but now, there’s something else too. Something deeper. A kind of surrender, maybe, or an acknowledgment of the strange, intense connection that’s grown between you.

Finally, you nod, a small, hesitant movement. “Okay.”

Lando’s heart skips a beat. He wasn’t sure if he’d hear you say that, wasn’t sure if this moment would come. But now that it’s here, he feels a flood of emotion, a mix of relief, excitement, and something much deeper, something he can’t quite put into words.

“Yeah?” He asks, his voice soft, a little breathless.

You nod again, your gaze steady on his. “Yeah. I … I trust you.”

His chest tightens at your words, the weight of them sinking in. Trust. That’s what this all comes down to. You’re giving him that trust again, even after everything, and it means more to him than he can express.

Lando rises slowly, his movements careful and deliberate as he steps closer to you, kneeling between your legs again. His hands rest gently on your hips, his touch reverent, almost worshipful. He doesn’t want to rush this, doesn’t want to break the fragile balance you’ve reached.

“Thank you,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

You nod, your breath a little shaky, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you reach down, guiding his hands to the hem of your shirt, helping him lift it up and over your head. The soft fabric falls to the floor, leaving your chest bare, vulnerable in the dim light.

Lando’s breath catches in his throat as he looks at you, his hands gently cupping your breasts. His thumbs brush over your skin, slow and deliberate, and you let out a soft gasp at the sensation.

“Are you okay?” He asks, his voice low and husky, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

You nod, your lips parting as you take a shaky breath. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

He leans in slowly, pressing a soft kiss to your chest, just above your heart. He feels the steady rhythm of your pulse beneath his lips, and it grounds him, reminding him of the connection you share.

His lips move lower, tracing a path along your skin, until he reaches your breast. He pauses, looking up at you one last time for permission. You nod again, your hand resting on the back of his head, gently guiding him closer.

And then, with a soft, reverent touch, Lando takes you into his mouth.

The sensation is immediate, overwhelming in its intensity. He feels the warmth of you, the sweet, rich taste filling his senses, and it’s everything he’s wanted, everything he’s imagined. You let out a soft moan, your body trembling slightly beneath him, and it only spurs him on.

His mouth moves slowly, rhythmically, savoring every moment, every drop. He’s careful, gentle, but there’s a hunger in him now, a need that he can’t deny. He’s wanted this for so long, and now that he has it, he can’t get enough.

You moan softly, your hand tightening in his hair, and Lando feels a surge of satisfaction, of deep, primal desire. He knows he’s crossed a line, knows that this moment is unlike anything you’ve shared before. But it feels right. It feels natural.

He pulls back slightly, his lips brushing against your skin as he murmurs, “You’re perfect.”

You let out a shaky breath, your body trembling beneath his touch. “Lando …”

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and affection. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice raw. “I’ll always take care of you.”

And with that, you gently guide him back, helping him latch again. The room is quiet, save for the soft sounds of your breathing, the quiet intimacy of the moment wrapping around you both like a warm embrace.

And in that moment, nothing else matters. Just you, him, and the connection that binds you tighter than ever before.

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yvesette · 7 months ago

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WE GOT MARRIED!

ִ ࣪𖤐 ۪ ݁ 𓈒 ── choi seungcheol

SUMMARY: ── the premise of the popular reality show, "we got married," was simple: you and another celebrity would pretend to be married for two weeks, navigating various romantic and domestic challenges together. when your partner turns out to be choi seungcheol however, feelings complicate your perception of reality.

PAIRING: [choi seungcheol (s.coups) x f!reader] GENRE: [eventual smut, domestic fluff, angst, idol!au, fake dating, one bed, all the good shit]

CW: afab!reader, nicknames (angel, babygirl, baby, good girl), arguing (it’s sorted out), soft!dom ?? + pussydrunk cheol, big!dick cheol, fingering, penetration, safe sex (ofc), possessive!cheol, hair pulling, light choking

℘　　◌　　﹒　⠀ ꢾ꣒⠀　 ׅ⠀ㅤ　⑅

── pre-show interview:

interviewer: "thank you for joining us today! can you tell us a little about yourself and what initially made you hesitant to join 'we got married'?"

you fiddle with your hands and compose yourself into a smile.

“of course. i’m y/n, and to be honest, when i was first approached about the show, i had a lot of reservations. being an idol, my life is already under constant scrutiny, and the idea of faking a marriage on national television was daunting. i was worried about how my fans would react and whether I'd be able to genuinely connect with my on-screen partner."

interviewer: "what eventually convinced you to participate?"

you think, “it was a mix of curiosity and encouragement from my friends and management. they believed it would be a good opportunity for me to show a different side of myself, one that isn't always visible on stage. plus, the idea of experiencing something as unique as a reality show marriage was too intriguing to pass up."

interviewer: "do you know who your partner will be yet?

you smile nervously, “no, i don't. it’s a complete surprise for me. all i know is that it's someone from a well-known group. i’m really curious to find out who it is!"

interviewer: "that must be exciting! can you share what your ideal type is for the camera?”

you grin thoughtfully, “my ideal type is someone who is kind-hearted and takes care of the people around them. they should have a strong sense of responsibility but also listen and understand. a good sense of humor is a must — oh and physically, i guess i find myself drawn to someone with a warm smile and expressive eyes. someone who can be both charismatic on stage and down-to-earth in everyday life."

interviewer: "finally, do you have any worries or concerns going into the show?"

you: "i’m a bit worried about how awkward it might be at first. there’s always that initial nervousness when meeting someone new, and this situation is quite intense. i hope we can get past that quickly and have a good time together.”

—

day 1:

you stood in front of the door to a luxurious townhome, hands fidgeting nervously at your sides. this would be your new home for the next two weeks. the camera crew gave you a nod, signaling it was time to head inside. taking a deep breath, you open the door and step into the living room, where a warm, cozy ambiance greets you. as you set your bag down, you hear the sound of the front door opening again. you turn, breath caught in your throat, and a man, looking slightly familiar to you, enters the room.

he was wearing a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, paired with dark jeans that accentuated his tall, athletic frame. his broad shoulders and well-defined chest were subtly outlined by the fabric of his shirt, hinting at the strength beneath. the open collar revealed a glimpse of his collarbones, which added an effortlessly sexy touch to his appearance and you thanked god you’d been paired with someone this attractive, as selfish as it sounded. his face was a perfect blend of boyish charm and mature masculinity and his dark hair was styled in a slightly tousled manner.

the man in front of you carried a polite smile. for a moment, you both stood there, slightly taken aback by the reality of the situation.then, as if on cue, you both bowed to each other in polite, awkward unison. "hello!" you said at the same time, voices overlapping. realizing what happened, you both laughed nervously and bowed again, this time with even more formality.

“hi, i’m y/n," you said, smiling despite your nerves.

“i’m seungcheol. it’s nice to meet you,” he said, returning your smile.

there was a brief pause as you both sized each other up, trying to gauge the other's reaction. something about him seemed familiar, but you couldn't quite place it.

your heart skipped a beat as recognition dawned on you and you remembered his face from music and award shows. you were almost certain the man in front of you was a member of seventeen and your mind was almost more eased you were paired with another idol.

as you shook his hand, your mind raced with a million thoughts. should you mention that you know who he is? would it be weird? awkward?

before you could decide, seungcheol spoke again, his voice cheerful and inviting, “i know this is a bit of an odd situation, but let's make these two weeks memorable, okay?”

you nodded, unable to tear your gaze away from his face and your cheeks flushed slightly.

the first task was to explore the house together, finding little notes and hints left by the producers about upcoming challenges and activities. as you moved from room to room, seungcheol’s playful nature shined through. he made jokes about the odd decorations and even tried on an oversized apron in the kitchen, to which he realized how easily he could make you laugh.

in the living room, you found a note instructing you to cook your first meal together. seungcheol looked at you with genuine curiosity in his eyes. "do you cook often?"

you shook your head, “i try, but i’m not the best. how about you?”

he shrugged, “i can manage, could you hand me those eggs?”

working side by side in the kitchen, you both stumbled through the recipe, exchanging glances and giggles as you tried to make sense of the instructions. seungcheol’s presence was comforting; his easygoing demeanor made it feel less like a staged activity and you had to remind yourself of your situation every once in a while.

“careful!" you warned as he nearly knocked over a bowl of flour.

“oops," he laughed, catching it just in time. "oh my god, thanks for warning me.”

when the meal was finally ready, you both sat down at the coffee table, a sense of accomplishment and camaraderie settling in.

“you know," he says, his voice low and conspiratorial, "i have to admit, i was a bit of a fan of yours before this."

you almost spit out your food and your eyes widen in surprise, “you were?”

he nodded, a shy smirk playing on his lips. "yeah, i may or may not have listened to…a few, songs.”

you couldn't help but laugh, feeling a rush of disbelief, “well," you said, unable to hide the smile on your face, "i guess we both have some fangirling/fanboying to do then.”

seungcheol chuckled before taking a sip of his drink, “looks like we're off to a good start then."

later that evening, as you both settled on the couch to go over the day's events, you found yourself stealing glances at seungcheol when he wasn't looking. the cameras captured every moment, but by now, they had become background noise. seungcheol’s arm rested casually on the back of the couch, his presence reassuring.

"so what did you think of our first day together?" seungcheol asked, turning to you with a gentle smile.

you smiled back, feeling more at ease now. "honestly , it was fun. a bit overwhelming at first, but i think we handled it pretty well."

he nodded, his expression thoughtful. "yeah , i think so too. it’s all about getting comfortable with each other, right?"

you laughed softly, nodding in agreement. "exactly."

as the night continued, the two of you talked about your experiences in the industry, sharing stories and laughing over funny moments. the more you talked, the more you realized how much you had in common. it was easy to forget the cameras were even there.

—

day 5:

it had been a few days of filming and your arranged marriage with the charming seungcheol was off to an...interesting start. between the awkward getting-to-know-you interviews and staged "newlywed" activities for the cameras, you were still trying to find your footing in this bizarre situation.

one minute, you and seungcheol were bickering like an old married couple over whose turn it was to do the dishes, (it would always end with him insisting he did the chore.) the next, you'd catch him shooting you an ambiguous look from under those ridiculously long lashes, causing a fluttery feeling to erupt in your stomach. it was a constant back-and-forth of feeling flustered yet intrigued by your new husband.

today, the production crew had you and seungcheol participate in a silly pillow fight "challenge" meant to showcase your playful newlywed dynamic. what started off as an innocent, goofy bout of whacking each other with the plush objects quickly devolved into an all-out war.

giggling breathlessly, you launched another fluffy projectile at seungcheol’s head, who had now affectionately insisted you call him cheol.

he taunted with a roguish grin, deflecting your pillow attack.

you both scrambled for ammunition, whacking each other relentlessly. you shrieked as a particularly fierce blow sent you tumbling backwards onto the bed.

in a flash, seungcheol pounced - pinning your wrists above your head as he straddled your waist. his sculpted body pressed against yours, stealing your breath away.

"i win," he murmured huskily, drinking in your flushed, disheveled state. a few dark strands of hair had fallen over his forehead, making him look ridiculously pretty and you both froze as the heated tension reached a tipping point, chests heaving from the exertion of your pillow fight.

then, all at once, realization seemed to wash over both of you. this had crossed a line, strayed too far from the realm of pretend into something that felt a little too real for your comfort. seungcheol quickly released your wrists and rolled off you, running a flustered hand through his tousled hair as the cameras cut and the producers applaud your chemistry ‘played up’ for the show.

“i…sorry, i got a bit carried away there," he muttered gruffly, unable to meet your eyes.

you pushed yourself into a sitting position, clutching a pillow protectively to your chest. “no, it's...yeah, me too," you mumbled, cheeks burning.

as seungcheol swiftly excused himself, you couldn't shake the feeling that something deeper and more complicated had been irrevocably awakened on your end, you watched your fake husband’s broad back retreating towards the door, then he paused and glanced over his shoulder at you.

despite the flustered awkwardness of moments before, his gaze openly raked over your disheveled form in a way that made heat lick through your veins. you clutched the pillow tighter, suddenly feeling very exposed under his molten perusal.

as quickly as the blazing look had appeared, it faded to a neutral expression once more as he gave you a brisk nod. "i’ll...see you later," he murmured in a rough rasp before ducking out of the room, leaving you flushed and wondering what the hell had just happened.

—

day 9:

the sweltering summer heat had prompted the producers to film a scene with you and seungcheol enjoying some relaxation at the rooftop pool.

you tried not to stare too openly as seungcheol stripped off his shirt, revealing a toned, sculpted torso that made your mouth go dry. rivulets of glistening water trailed tantalizing paths down those firm abs as he sank into the cool pool with a contented sigh.

“you coming in or what, y/n?" he flashed you a lopsided grin, sending your pulse into an erratic stutter.

shaking yourself free of your momentary thirst, you made a big show of daintily dipping a toe in to test the temperature, “oh my god it’s freezing.” you step out of the water onto the poolside and shiver from the contact.

cheol arches an incredulous brow at your overly dramatic reaction. then without warning, he kicked up an arched wave that splashed you squarely in the face.

you sputtered in outraged shock as he cackled at your drenched, bedraggled state. you cursed at him and then tilted your head, “oh you’re gonna get it now…”

retaliating, you cannonballed directly towards him, prompting a yelp as he tried dodging the cascading wall of water.

what started as an innocent pool dip quickly devolved into an all-out splash fight, filled with laughter and shrieks, water spraying everywhere. at one point, seungcheol grabbed you around the waist from behind, holding you flush against his chest as you squealed and squirmed playfully...

as the sun dipped low on the horizon, it set the sky ablaze with vibrant shades of orange and red bled across the heavens, intermingling with streaks of brilliant pink and lavender. the surface of the rooftop pool shimmered like liquid amber, endlessly rippling and refracting the spectacular colors above.

as the playful battle subsided, you found yourselves standing chest-deep, catching your breath. seungcheol, hair plastered to his forehead, offered you a sheepish grin. his hand, reaching out to brush a stray strand from your eye, hesitated in mid-air.

the air crackled with a sudden tension, a shift from playful banter to something more intense. you held his gaze, unsure of where this unexpected touch might lead. the playful facade, for a moment, seemed to falter, revealing a vulnerability that sent a shiver down your spine.

as the camera crew wrapped their filming of the segment momentarily, cheol leaned against the pool deck, catching his breath, while you treaded water, a satisfied smile playing on your lips.

“you know," seungcheol said, his voice slightly breathless, "for someone who almost drowned me with pool water ten minutes ago - you’re pretty fun to do this whole fake marriage this with.”

his compliment caught you off guard, a blush creeping up your cheeks. you looked away, fiddling with the straps of your swimsuit and snorted, “you would have survived, trust.”

you bit your lip, “but you’re not…awful, to do this with. i’m glad it was you.”

his biceps flexed as he pushed himself off the wall, the water cascading down his toned arms. he smiled and ran a hand through his hair, which was now drying in messy waves.

you had to admit to yourself, in another situation, he was pretty close to your type. your mind took a sharp turn and a thrilling image of cheol, those big arms holding you close, pinning you down. he could easily manhandle you, and the thought sent a forbidden thrill through you.

taking a deep breath, you forced your gaze away from him, the delicious heat replaced by a cold wave of reality.

—

that evening, the producers insisted that as a "newly married couple," you and seungcheol needed to share the bedroom set for an authentic experience. your heart pounded as the camera crew ushered you both into the dimly lit bedroom, pulling the covers back invitingly.

"alright you two, get nice and cozy for us!" the director called out teasingly. "we’ll get some candid footage of your first night spent in the same room together as husband and wife."

you shot seungcheol an awkward look, but he just gave you a reassuring smile as he slipped an arm around your waist, pulling you close. the cameras rolled as you climbed stiffly into bed together, maintaining a prim distance at first.

however, as soon as the crew lights winked off and you were left in intimate shadows, cheol’s touch grew bolder. his arm snaked more fully around you, hand skimming along your curves as he tugged you flush against his solid frame and he watched your face for approval.

"just go with it for the cameras," he murmured in your ear, making you shiver at the feel of his warm breath fanning your neck.

you gave a shaky nod, trying to ignore the rampant spiraling spawning low in your belly from his nearness. but as the man next to you nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, letting out a contented sigh, you felt yourself instinctively relaxing into his embrace.

before long, the camera crew was dismissing themselves, leaving you and seungcheol tangled together intimately. you started to pull away, murmuring about giving him some space, but his arms only tightened around you.

“stay," he rumbled in that deep velvety tone that made heat curl low in your belly. "please. just for tonight."

you couldn't help but overthink the situation as you lay cocooned in seungcheol’s strong arms later that night. his slow, even breathing tickled the nape of your neck as he slumbered peacefully behind you.

this whole scenario - cuddling intimately, sharing a bed, his persistent insistence that you stay - it was quickly becoming difficult for you to differentiate reality and the fake of your friendship, or whatever you could call it.

realistically, there was no way seungcheol actually had romantic feelings for you, right? you were just some virtual stranger he'd been assigned to act affectionate towards for the sake of entertainment.

no, you reasoned to yourself, cheol was simply an incredibly dedicated performer who happened to be devastatingly good-looking. he was merely playing the role of an infatuated newlywed husband exceptionally well. all those lingering looks, the electrifying touches, the way he'd pulled you insistently into his embrace - it was just him staying committed to the act. you were just a tolerable person for him to pretend to be married to for the cameras. that’s all this was. if you started projecting more meaning onto your partner’s actions, reading into lingering touches and heated glances, you'd only end up getting your hopes up and complicating things.

chewing your lip, you willed yourself not to dwell on the intimacy of your current position - pressed snugly back against his toned chest, legs tangled together, breaths mingling. it didn’t mean anything. he was just...really, really good at making this fake marriage feel real.

you lay there for a long while, keenly aware of every rise and fall of seungcheol’s chest against your back, the whisper of his warm breath fanning your nape. his arm was a solid, heated band around your waist, anchoring you to his slumbering form.

carefully, you began extracting yourself from his arms, trying not to rouse him. he made a soft grumbling sound of protest as you slipped out of bed, his arm reflexively tightening for a moment before falling away. you froze, watching him with bated breath, but he merely rolled onto his back with a gusty sigh, face relaxing back into peaceful slumber.

for a long moment, you simply stood there drinking in the sight of him - all tousled ebony hair, chiseled features, lips slightly parted as he slumbered. your heart gave a powerful thud, desperate longing temporarily overwhelming rationality.

then, you wrenched your gaze away, wrapping your arms around yourself as you crept towards the door on soft feet and went to your separate bedroom. this was for the best. putting some distance between you before things inevitably became more tangled and awkward.

—

day 12:

"you’re burning it!" seungcheol suddenly exclaimed, pointing at the pan on the stove where the sauce was starting to smoke.

by late afternoon, you were both working on preparing dinner in the kitchen. the producers had given you a complex recipe to follow, and the pressure was mounting. seungcheol was chopping vegetables while you tried to manage the stove, but things weren't going as planned.

you glanced over, feeling flustered. "i know, i know! i’m trying to fix it!"

"well, you need to do it faster! we can't serve burnt food," he retorted, his tone sharper than you expected.

you felt a surge of irritation. "why don't you come over here and do it then if you're so concerned?"

seungcheol put down the knife he was holding, his jaw tightening. "i’m just trying to help. there’s no need to get defensive."

you turn off the stove and face him, your frustration boiling over. "it feels like you're criticizing everything i’m doing. this is supposed to be fun but—“ you sigh.

seungcheol’s expression softened slightly, but he didn't back down. "i’m not trying to criticize you. i’m just stressed because i want this to turn out well. we’re both under a lot of pressure.”

his words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. you felt a warmth bloom in your cheeks, a prickling awareness that transcended the confines of the tiny kitchen. it wasn't just the heat from the stove anymore; it was the sudden, electrifying tension that crackled between you.

whatever this "show marriage" was quickly becoming, it was growing increasingly difficult to remember it wasn't real.

his gaze held yours, a storm brewing in his dark eyes. was it just the stress of the competition, or was there something more? maybe it was the way his thumb brushed against yours as he reached for a spatula, a touch that lingered a beat too long. maybe it was the way his voice seemed to drop an octave whenever he spoke directly to you.

the air grew thick, the playful banter of the morning replaced by a charged silence. you weren't talking simply about cooking anymore. this felt like something more, something simmering beneath the surface, threatening to boil over.

suddenly, a loud clang from the living room shattered the spell. the cameraman had accidentally knocked over a vase, the sound breaking the intimate bubble you'd somehow created. seungcheol offered a grin of reconciliation, the tension momentarily broken.

as you both cleaned up the broken vase, a playful jab exchanged here and there, you couldn't shake the feeling that cheol’s feelings for you mirrored your own. maybe it was just wishful thinking, fueled by the close proximity and manufactured intimacy of the show. but a tiny, hopeful spark ignited within you. perhaps, just perhaps, this fake marriage could be a gateway into something else.

the air crackled with an unspoken apology after your argument in the kitchen. the rest of the day was filmed in a tense silence, punctuated only by the polite pleasantries expected for the cameras. seungcheol stole glances at you every now and then, his gaze laced with regret, but you studiously avoided his eyes.

dinner was a quiet affair, the weight of the fight hanging heavy between you. as the last crew member packed up their equipment and said their goodbyes, a heavy sigh escaped seungcheol’s lips. you remembered you only had two more days left with him before you parted ways and continued your daily, busy lives.

you lean against the doorframe of cheol’s assigned bedroom. he’s reading something foreign and doesn’t notice your presence at first. "hey," you started hesitantly, the artificiality of your fabricated married life suddenly feeling suffocating. he looked up, his eyes filled with a vulnerability you hadn't seen before.

"i shouldn't have snapped at you," he said, his voice rough. "this whole thing... the pressure, the cameras... it just — you know, gets to me sometimes.”

you understood. the world only saw the polished, perfect idols on stage, not the stress and anxieties that gnawed at them behind the scenes. partially this show felt like a risk of balance between speculation and approval. “i know," you admitted softly, surprised at the tremor in your voice. "it gets to me too."

silence settled again, but this time it wasn't tense. it was a comfortable quiet, an unspoken understanding blooming between you.

you took a seat on the mattress and asked him what he was reading.

“amour,” he says, flipping the book over to show you the cover.

“amour?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "isn’t that french for love?"

cheol rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "yeah, it is. found it at the airport bookstore. it’s about a journalist who travels around france asking people about love."

a playful glint sparked in your eyes. "funny," you said, tracing the title with your finger, “didn’t know you were such a romantic.”

a wry smile tugged at the corner of seungcheol's lips. "maybe i’m just curious," he said, his voice dropping to a low murmur that made you nervous. "especially after all this... 'pretend' marriage stuff." he paused, his gaze flickering from the book to your face. "maybe the line between pretending and feeling is a little more blurry than we thought."

he words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. the playful banter you'd used as a shield these past 2 weeks suddenly felt inadequate. you met his gaze, the air crackling with a new kind of tension.

"maybe it is," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper.

the glint in your eyes softened into something deeper, something that mirrored the sudden intensity in cheol’s gaze. he set his book down on the nightstand with a soft thud, the sound swallowed by the heavy silence that had descended upon the room.

he took a slow movement towards you across the bed, his eyes searching yours with a depth that made your breath catch. you could practically feel the unspoken question hanging in the air, a question your heart already knew the answer to. there was a palpable tension between you, an invisible thread pulling you closer.

without another word, seungcheol closed the remaining distance between you. his hand reached out to cup your cheek, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. his thumb brushed against your soft skin, a gentle caress that spoke volumes. it was as if he was trying to communicate everything he felt in that simple touch, the unspoken emotions and the growing connection between you.

his eyes flickered down to your lips before meeting your gaze again, asking for permission without uttering a single word. you gave a small, almost imperceptible nod, your heart pounding in your chest.

then, he leaned in. the kiss was hesitant at first, a soft exploration that tasted of unspoken longing and a newfound vulnerability. hips lips were warm and tender against yours, moving with a gentleness that made your heart ache and charged with the electricity of forbidden desire and the sweetness of a connection that transcended the cameras and the manufactured reality of your "marriage."

as the kiss deepened, seungcheol’s other hand found its way to your waist, pulling you closer. you responded instinctively, your hands sliding up to rest on his broad shoulders. the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in that moment. the kiss grew more passionate, an unspoken promise of the bond forming between you.

his fingers threaded through your hair, tilting your head slightly to deepen the kiss. the heat of his body pressed against yours, and you could feel the rapid beat of his heart mirroring your own. every touch, every movement was filled with a mix of tenderness and urgency, a dance of emotions that neither of you could deny any longer.

in one swift movement, seungcheol lifted you onto his lap, his strong arms wrapping around you securely. the sudden shift made you gasp, breaking the kiss momentarily. he took advantage of your parted lips, diving back in with a new intensity. his hand tangled in your hair, gripping it roughly as he deepened the kiss. the raw hunger in his actions satisfied a need you’d had since the moment you met him and ignited a new thirst in you for more than a kiss.

his lips left yours, trailing hot kisses down your jaw and neck. seungcheol’s breath was warm against your skin, each kiss sending shivers down your spine. "cheol-ie," you breathed out, your voice shaky with desire. "i’ve needed you so bad.”

he groaned against your neck, the sound vibrating through you and making your core tighten with need. "you have no idea how much I’ve wanted you babygirl,” he murmured, his voice rough with longing. the nickname makes you feel weak in his arms as they roam over your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

you began to move against him, grinding your hips down on his lap. the friction elicited a deep, guttural moan from his chest, his grip on your hair tightening. his lips continued their path along your neck, sucking and nibbling at the sensitive skin. each touch, each kiss, was driving you both closer to the edge.

your hands slid under his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against yours and see the body you’d thought about and fantasized about at the pool. his muscles tensed under your touch, and he let out another low groan. the sound sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, making you grind harder against him.

feeling the need for more, you reached for the hem of your top, and without hesitation, cheol’s hands followed suit, helping you remove the garment until it fell forgotten to the floor. his eyes drank in the sight before him, the intensity of his gaze sending a thrill through you. with a passion that matched your own, he leaned in to capture your lips in a feverish kiss, his movements urgent and commanding.

seungcheol’s hands moved to your breasts, his touch sending electric pulses of pleasure coursing through your body. his lips followed suit, trailing hot kisses down your neck and collarbone before finding their way to your exposed skin. the sensation of his warm mouth on your sensitive flesh made you gasp, a moan escaping your lips as you arched into his touch.

as he sucked and massaged your breasts with a hunger that bordered on desperation, you couldn't help but whine his name, the sound echoing in the room like a symphony of desire.

his only response was a deep, guttural groan, the sound vibrating through you.

cheol’s hands moved to your hips, guiding your movements and matching your rhythm. the sensation of his hardness pressing against you was intoxicating, heightening the desire coursing through your veins. “i need you," he whispered hoarsely against your neck, his breath hot and heavy.

you pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes. the intensity you saw there took your breath away. "i need you too, cheol," you whispered back, your voice filled with the same raw need.

"show me," he commanded, his voice dropping to a low, authoritative tone. "show me how much you want me."

you bit your lip and your mind was urging you to shed the last remnants of clothing separating you from seungcheol’s touch. with a sense of urgency, you sat up, for just a moment to rid yourself of your pajama shorts and panties. he gently helped you slip out of the remainder of your clothes until you were completely bare in front of him.

as you returned to straddle him, seungcheol’s eyes darkened with possessiveness, his slightly dumbfounded gaze raking over your exposed form with undisguised lust. you reached for his hand, guiding it to where you needed him most.

his fingers moved in circles with a skill and reverence that bordered on worship. as he teased and caressed you with one hand, his other grabbed the back of your neck to pull you into his orbit.

"cheol," you gasped, your voice filled with need as his touch sent waves of pleasure crashing over you. "pl-please, want you inside of me..”

his response was a low, guttural growl, the sound sending shivers down your spine. he pressed his fingers against your throbbing center, the sensation driving you crazy, and leaned against your ear, “i know angel, i know, need to prep you.”

he slipped two long fingers inside you, his movements slow and deliberate. you couldn't help but arch impossibly back into his touch, a high pitched moan escaping your lips as he filled you completely. his fingers curled inside you and slipped in and out, stretching you and sending waves of pleasure over you that you could feel building closer and closer to your climax.

cheol pulled your face closer to his by your neck as he pumped his fingers in and out of you and whispered in his deep voice words of praise, “you’re so good for me.” his voice was rough in responsive to your obedience.

“such a good girl.”

the words sent a thrill through you, and your breathing that had gotten more quick by the second let all the air escape from your lungs as you completely gave in to the sensations in your body. you reached your peak screaming his name and collapsing onto the bed with your back. now on top of you, cheol guided you down from your high, and his movements became slower and more gentle until his fingers pulled out of you.

you felt his hand move to your lips, gently pressing against them. with a mix of hesitation and curiosity, you parted your lips, allowing cheol to guide his fingers inside your mouth so you could taste yourself.

“that’s it babygirl,” he said, a low groan escaping his lips. the sight of you, so willing and eager for his touch, only fueled the fire burning inside of him. he pulls his fingers from your mouth to press gentle kisses on your lips and your cheek - a sharp contrast from the intensity that had taken over him before.

as the passion of the moment continued to build, you couldn't help but notice the unmistakable hardness pressing against your thigh. seungcheol’s arousal was evident, his desire matching your own in its fervor. a surge of need washed over you, and you found yourself craving him in a way that was almost overwhelming.

desperation clawed at your insides, urging you to beg for him, to plead with him to take you in his arms and fuck you until you saw stars. but as you glanced into his eyes, you saw a flicker of uncertainty, a hint of fear lurking beneath the surface.

you reached for him, your fingers tracing the outline of his arousal through his pants. the intensity of his desire was palpable, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through you. you wanted him, needed him, in a way that bordered on obsession. but as you moved to undo his pants, you felt him hesitate, his hands shaking slightly. "i…i don’t know if i can," he whispered hoarsely, his voice filled with a sigh.

you whispered, your voice soft and filled with sincerity. "i want this, with you."

a flicker of relief flashed across his features, his shoulders relaxing slightly at your words. but the worry still lingered in his eyes, the fear of causing you pain evident in every line of his expression. he reached down to free his member from the confines of his sweatpants, discarding the clothing with a swift movement. as his length sprang free, you couldn't help but gasp at the sight before you. he was almost comically big, his arousal standing proudly against his abdomen, thick and pulsing with desire.

a mix of excitement and nervousness coursed through you as you watched him, desire pooling low in your belly. you couldn't help but wonder how he was going to fit inside of you, the thought sending a thrill of anticipation racing through you. seungcheol reached for his wallet on the nightstand, retrieving a condom with practiced ease and slipped it on.

cheol lifted your legs over his head, moving himself between them, a gasp escaped your lips at the sudden change in position. you felt him slowly enter you, his size stretching you in a way that was both exhilarating and slightly painful. the stretch stung, sending a jolt of sensation coursing through your body, but it was unlike anything you had ever felt before. he had to be the biggest you'd ever had, filling you completely and leaving you breathless with desire.

“‘s-so big,” was all you could breathe out with awe in your voice.

“you’re so fucking tight,” he murmured with both hands holding your legs over his shoulder so he could stretch you out as much as possible. bottoming out, he studied your face for signs of discomfort and deciding he could move. as seungcheol began to thrust gently at first, you felt his movements cautious and tender, as if he were testing the waters. each slow push and pull sent waves of pleasure rippling through you, his size stretching you in ways that ignited a fire deep within.

“feels so fucking good, your perfect pussy…” he groans into your neck.

you couldn't help but vocalize how good you felt as well, “don’t stop baby, please.”

something about that nickname makes his movements became more urgent, more desperate, as he surrendered himself to the pleasure of being inside you. with each thrust, you felt yourself being pushed closer and closer to the edge, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable crescendo. his thrusts became rougher, more dominant, as he took control of the rhythm. with a growl of desire, he reached for your throat, his grip firm but not constricting.

the sensation of his hand around your neck sent a shockwave of pleasure coursing through you, the combination of pleasure and pain driving you wild with desire. "who makes you feel this good?" he demanded, his voice rough with need.

you gasped at the sensation, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable peak. "you," you screamed, your voice filled with rawness. "It's you, cheol."

he flipped you over onto your hands and knees, positioning you perfectly for him to take you from behind. you gasped at the sudden change in position, the feeling of vulnerability and excitement coursing through you. but before you could react, seungcheol’s hands were on you, grabbing your ass possessively as he pulled you towards him. the sensation of his grip on your flesh sent a shiver of pleasure down your spine, curved for him to hit your perfect angle.

as you thought you couldn't take any more, you felt his hand tangle in your hair, pulling you back towards him with a force that left you breathless. “want you to be mine..” he choked out, his words claiming you.

“‘m yours," you gasped, your voice surrendering yourself completely. with a final, desperate thrust, cheol buried himself deep inside you, sending you both hurtling over the edge into ecstasy. pleasure exploded through every nerve ending in your body as you both reached the peak together, your cries of passion mingling in the air as you rode out the waves of bliss together.

seungcheol slowly withdrew from you and as you caught your breathe, he removed the condom, discarding it thoughtfully before turning his attention back to you. his demeanor shifted, his previous intensity giving way to a tender concern. leaning in, he pressed soft kisses to your tired face, his touch gentle and reassuring. "are you okay?" he whispered, his voice filled with genuine concern as he traced a soothing hand along your sweaty cheek.

you nodded, a contented smile gracing your lips as you bask in the warmth of his affection.

he tenderly cleaned you with a warm, damp cloth that he quickly fetched from the bathroom, his movements gentle and careful as he ensured tour comfort. once satisfied, he disposed of the cloth and returned to your side, pulling the covers over the both of your naked bodies.

you lay in each other's arms, the quiet of the room enveloping them like a comforting embrace. the air was filled with a sense of contentment but also questions rang through your mind. unable to contain your curiosity any longer, you spoke up. "cheol, earlier... did you mean what you said?" you asked, her voice tentative yet filled with hope.

seungcheol turned to you, his gaze soft yet filled with meaning. “every word," he replied, his voice steady and sure. “if you want — then you’re mine, and i’m yours.”

your mind buzzed with uncertainty and you sigh, snuggling closer to him. the realization that your time together on the show was fleeting weighed heavily on your heart, casting a shadow over the intimacy you had shared.

"seungcheol," you begin, switching from the nickname you’d been using. “i can’t help but wonder...after filming ends, what happens to us? we haven't known each other for long, and...” you gnawed at your lip, “what if we’re just caught in the moment?”

his expression faltered, a flicker of hurt flashing across his features at your words. he had been so certain of your connection, so confident in the depth of your feelings for each other, that your doubts came as a painful blow.

he reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he gently cupped your chin, guiding your gaze to meet his. "caught in the moment?" he repeated, his voice filled with an anxiety-ridden tone you had never heard before. "is that really what you think this is?"

your chest clenched at the anguish in seungcheol’s eyes, the weight of your words settling heavily between the two of you. you hadn't meant to hurt him, hadn't realized the impact your doubts would have on him.

"no, seungcheol, that's not what i meant," you hurried to explain, sitting up — your voice thick with regret. "i just... i’m scared. scared that what we have isn't enough to survive once the cameras stop rolling."

seungcheol sat up, shoulders slumped, the weight of your uncertainty pressing down on him like a boulder. "i need some time to think," he said, his voice strained. without another word, he stood up, dressed himself with the clothes he’d discarded on the floor as you protested, and left the room, the sound of the door closing behind him echoing through the silence.

you curled up under the covers, the emptiness of the room amplifying the loneliness you felt.

—

day 13:

the next morning dawned with a heavy sense of awkwardness hanging in the air. as you emerged from your room, the weight of last night’s conversation still pressed on your chest. cheol was already in the kitchen, his back turned to you as he prepared breakfast. the usual warmth and easy smiles were conspicuously absent.

"good morning," you said softly, trying to break the tension.

"morning," he replied flatly, not turning to face you. his tone was distant, a stark contrast to the intimate moments you had shared just hours before.

breakfast was a quiet affair, the silence between you filled with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. every clink of cutlery felt amplified, every glance avoided a reminder of the rift that had formed.

filming started shortly after, the crew bustling around to set up the day’s scenes. you and seungcheol went through the motions, but the chemistry that had once made your interactions effortless now felt forced. the cameras captured your strained smiles and awkward pauses, the tension between you palpable.

by the end of the day, the weight of the unspoken words and unresolved tension was nearly unbearable. as the crew packed up and the lights dimmed, you felt a deep sense of despair settle in. the connection that had once felt so strong now seemed fragile.

the newly familiar routine of brushing your teeth and changing into pajamas felt strangely hollow without seungcheol’s presence by your side. as you slipped under the covers, the cool sheets seemed to amplify the emptiness of the space beside you.

—

day 14:

the next day dawned with a sense of finality, the knowledge that it was the last day of filming adding a layer of bittersweet tension to the air. you went through your morning routine mechanically, each action feeling heavy with the weight of the unspoken words and unresolved emotions between you and your fake husband.

the filming started early, the crew bustling around to capture the last few scenes of your time together. you and seungcheol interacted politely, tension still lingering. you found yourself stealing glances at him, wishing for a moment alone to bridge the gap, but the demands of filming left little room for personal conversations. the day moved swiftly, and before you knew it, it was time for the post-show interview.

—

post-show interview:

you sat in the brightly lit room, the camera trained on you as the producer asked the final questions. the weight of the moment pressed on you, and you took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves.

interviewer: "so, how do you feel now that the show is ending?”

her voice was gentle but probing.

you paused, considering your words carefully. "its been an amazing experience," you began, your voice trembling slightly. "i’ve learned so much about myself and about what i want in a relationship. and...i’ve come to care for seungcheol deeply. more than i expected."

the interviewer leaned in, sensing the depth of your emotions.

interviewer: “can you elaborate on that? how has your relationship with seungcheol evolved?"

you nodded, your heart pounding. "at first, it was just about getting to know each other, but as the days went by, i found myself feeling…a certain way about him. he’s kind, supportive, and has this way of making me feel seen and valued. i’ve realized that i fell for him and that my feelings were real.”

a pang of regret hit you, remembering your doubts and the hurt in cheol’s eyes. you wondered if you should share your feelings fully, fearing the consequences of the media. but then, you decided—if there was a chance that he would see this interview when the show aired, perhaps he would understand the depth of your feelings and know that you regretted your words.

“i’ve fallen for seungcheol," you confessed, your voice breaking slightly. "and i regret the doubts i voiced. i wish i could take them back. i hope... i hope he can see how much he means to me."

the interviewer smiled softly, sensing the raw emotion in your words and the scoop she had just gotten. “thank you for sharing that," she said gently. "it’s clear that this experience has been transformative for you."

—

the weeks after the show wrapped up were a whirlwind of activity as you dived back into your work. your agency had announced a comeback, and preparations were in full swing, leaving little time for anything else. yet, despite the hectic schedule, thoughts of seungcheol lingered in the back of your mind, a constant undercurrent to your busy days. you cherished the rare quiet moments in your dorm, where you could catch up with your girl friends or simply relax. even during these times, you found yourself checking your phone, hoping for a message from the person you longed for. as the days passed with no word, a sense of uncertainty grew, mingled with the hope that he would reach out once the show aired.

when the show finally did air, you watched your post-show interview with bated breath, wondering how seungcheol would react. the raw honesty of your confession, the vulnerability you had shown, left you feeling exposed but kept you waiting next to your phone.

then, the call came. hearing cheol’s voice, filled with emotion and understanding, was like a balm to your weary heart. his words of reconciliation and his desire to give your relationship a real chance were everything you had hoped for. the prospect of meeting him off-camera, to explore your connection without the pressures of the show, filled you with a renewed sense of excitement and somewhat worry.

the next day, you found yourself standing outside a small, cozy café, your heart racing with anticipation. the door opened, and there he was—your same old cheol, looking just as nervous and hopeful as you felt.

he smiled as he saw you, a genuine, heartfelt smile that made your heart flutter. "hey," he said softly, stepping closer.

"hey," you replied, your voice quiet and your eyes watery.

without another word, he pulled you into a hug, holding you close. the warmth of his embrace, the familiar scent of him, it all felt right.

you both sat down, ordering drinks and talking about everything and nothing. the conversation flowed easily, the tension from the show slowly melting away as you reconnected on a deeper, more personal level.

"i’ve been thinking about you every day," he confessed, his hand reaching out to cover yours. "i want to explore this, see where it leads. no cameras, no scripts—just us."

you nodded, tears of happiness glistening in your eyes. "i want that too, cheol. i want us to have a real chance."

as seungcheol and you left the café, a small crowd had gathered outside, eager to catch a glimpse of the two of you together. camera flashes illuminated the sidewalk as fan-sites and news networks alike snapped photos, their interest palpable in the air. reporters shouted questions, their voices blending into a cacophony of speculation about your relationship.

online, netizens dissected every detail, analyzing photos and videos from the show and your recent café outing. comments and posts flooded social media platforms, with hashtags trending worldwide. the public's curiosity and excitement seemed to know no bounds as they speculated about the nature of your relationship.

cheol took to his instagram, posting a photo of the two of you holding hands outside the café with a quote from “amour,” the novel he had read previously.

— “ there will come a time when you believe everything is finished; that will be the beginning. “

—

end.

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capquinn · 13 days ago

Note

ugh just waking up next to Quinn but you need to leave because you have somewhere to be and he doesn't like that so he keeps hanging on and snuggling into you, not ready for you to leave just yet

this is such a sweet thought and i feel a little giddy just thinking about it <3

The early morning light filters through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. You stretch gently, trying not to disturb him, but as soon as you move, Quinn stirs. His arm tightens around your waist, pulling you back against him with a sleepy groan.

“Where are you going?” His voice is groggy, muffled against your shoulder as he presses his face into the curve of your neck. His hair tickles your skin, and the warmth of him makes it so tempting to just sink back into the bed.

“I have to get up,” you whisper, running your fingers lightly along his forearm. “I've got so much to do today.”

“Don’t care,” he mumbles, his hold on you firm but lazy, like he’s determined to keep you anchored without putting in too much effort. He nuzzles closer, his lips brushing against your shoulder in a barely-there kiss. “Stay. Five more minutes.”

You laugh softly, turning slightly to look at him. His eyes are still closed, his hair sticking up in every direction, and his face is relaxed in that perfectly peaceful way that only comes with sleep.

“You said that five minutes ago.”

“And I’ll say it again,” he replies, his lips quirking into a sleepy grin that’s half hidden by your shoulder. He shifts, tangling his leg with yours, his body aligning with yours under the blanket as if to physically anchor you there. “You’re warm, and I’m comfy, and you leaving ruins everything.”

You let out a soft laugh, though it’s hard to resist the way he’s holding onto you like his life depends on it. “Quinn, I really have to get moving,” you say, though your words lack conviction as your fingers absentmindedly trace patterns along the length of his arm.

“Mm,” he hums in protest, not bothering to open his eyes. His voice is low and drowsy, and it sends a shiver through you as he murmurs, “The world will survive without you for a little longer.”

You tilt your head slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of his face, but he burrows further into your neck, his nose brushing along your neck before pressing a lazy, open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder. It’s soft and sweet, a little too deliberate for someone claiming to be half-asleep, and you feel the fight slipping out of you completely.

“Five more minutes,” he repeats, his voice teasing now, just a little, like he knows exactly how to wear you down.

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, though it comes out more fond than frustrated. His hand, warm and soft, moves in lazy circles over your hip, and the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back is like a quiet reminder to stay. “You’re acting like I’m leaving forever.”

“You might as well be,” he mumbles, his voice quieter now, softer, like the very thought is unbearable. His lips skim the line of your collarbone, and the exaggerated pout in his tone pulls a smile from you. “You’re abandoning me. Right when I need you most.”

Finally, you roll over to face him, your exasperation melting the moment your eyes meet his sleepy grin. “Need me most? You’re about to have all the blanket and all the bed, Quinn.”

“And?” he says with mock offense, one eye cracking open, hazy with sleep, just enough to level you with a halfhearted glare. His grin spreads a little wider, lazy and charming all at once. “Neither of those are you.” He shifts closer, his fingers brushing along the curve of your jaw as his arm tightens around your waist. “So, what’s your plan now? Leave me here cold and alone?”

You narrow your eyes at him, trying to hold onto your resolve, but it’s slipping fast. “My plan,” you say, dragging the words out, “is to get out of this bed and actually accomplish something today.”

Quinn hums low in his throat, the sound vibrating softly against your skin as his hand finds the small of your back. His forehead presses gently to yours, the warmth of him seeping into you as he murmurs, “counter offer.” His voice is heavy with sleep, low and husky, but there’s a teasing edge to it. “You stay here, and I’ll share my pillow.”

You raise an eyebrow, your lips tugging into a faint smirk. “Oh, so generous,” you say, your tone light and dripping with sarcasm.

His grin widens, lazy and lopsided, and he shifts just enough to nuzzle his nose against yours. His hair brushes against your face — soft, slightly tousled, and unmistakably him.

“Fine,” he drawls, his eyes still barely open as he presses closer, “I’ll even throw in one of my hoodies later. You love those.”

Despite yourself, you laugh, the sound soft and familiar in the quiet of the room. Your fingers drift up to thread through his hair, and he leans into your touch instinctively, letting out the faintest hum of contentment.

“Quinn…” you start, though your resolve is already softening.

“Shh,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the edge of your temple in a kiss so light it feels like a whisper. His voice is a sleepy drawl, warm and coaxing, as he adds, “just five more minutes. That’s all I’m asking for.”

His hand shifts against your back, firm and gentle, pulling you closer as though the fragile peace of the morning depends entirely on you being right there, nestled against him. His thumb moves in slow, lazy circles over the fabric of your shirt, a rhythm so soothing it feels like a silent reassurance for both of you. Then he shifts, just slightly, his warm palm spreading wide across your back as he tucks his head closer, his nose brushing the curve of your jaw with a tenderness that feels deliberate, purposeful — like he’s claiming these stolen moments before the day pulls you away.

Your fingers drift into his hair, soft and unruly from sleep, threading through it absently. The silky strands slip between your fingertips as you trace the curve of his head, and he leans into the touch, letting out a faint hum of contentment that rumbles low in his chest. You feel yourself settle deeper into the pillow, caught in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

As your breathing syncs with his, you feel the subtle shift in his body — a melting, a quiet surrender to sleep creeping back in now that he knows you’re not going anywhere. Even without you saying a word, he knows. His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm with yours, and you swear you can feel the ghost of a smile pressed against your shoulder, soft and fleeting, like he’s letting himself fully exhale.

“See? This is better,” he murmurs, his voice low and warm, but there’s a teasing lilt to it that makes your lips twitch with a smile. “Me, you, the blankets. Nothing else.”

You laugh softly. “You mean nothing else except you holding me hostage?”

His grin stretches against your shoulder, warm and lazy, as he presses the faintest kiss there, his lips brushing your skin.

“Exactly,” he murmurs, his tone playful, unhurried, like he’s perfectly content to keep you right where you are. “You’re finally catching on.”

#he's just the cuddliest lil guy #capquinn's writing #capquinn’s requests #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #bf!quinn

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w4ndal0ver · 2 months ago

Text

The Art of Submission (4) [Edging]

[minors don't interact, 18+]

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

chapter summary: The first session begins and Wanda tests how long she can keep you on edge, before seeing how many times you can cum for her.

whole summary: As a growing author, you're grappling with a frustrating writer's block while trying to craft your next lesbian erotic novel. With a lack of personal experience holding you back, inspiration seems just out of reach. But when a captivating neighbour steps in, offering unexpected support and a tantalizing invitation to explore the depths of desire, you find yourself on a journey that blurs the lines between reality and fiction, leading to a discovery that you definitely weren't expecting.

content warnings: continuing the insane amount of sexual tension, edging, orgasm denial, begging, fingering (r receiving), cunnilingus (r receiving), strap on use (r receiving), spitting, spanking, restraints

note: So this is the fourth installment and finally we have some well earned smut. The way i'm seeing the chapters from now is a different kink or power dynamic, so if anyone wants anything in particular, just leave it in my asks and i can include it, enjoy <3

The Art of Submission - Chapter 4, Edging

Wanda stood before you, your eyes gleaming up at the redhead in nervous anticipation. Everything about this felt so uncontrollably vulnerable, her fully dressed figure making circles around your body dressed in scarlet lace. Her gentle hands kept brushing against your skin, taking her fingertips across the length of your collarbone, dragging them up along your neck, twirling itself in the strands of hair that hung from your bun.

“You look so perfect,” she hums, her eyes drinking up the sigh of you, “Just sitting there, all mine.” Her glance notices the way your hands sit perfectly flat against your thighs, all she could think about was how you were perfectly written for her. No experience but knowing everything that she would want based on your writing. She takes her bottom lip between her teeth as she continues to devour you with her stare.

Wanda glimpses at the untouched plates, then back at you with a sly grin. “Looks like dinner didn’t stand a chance, huh?” she murmurs, her fingers brushing against your waist. “Guess we got a little distracted.” Her eyes flick down to the table, then back up, dark and commanding. "Why don’t you clear the table, sweetheart? I need the space for something else."

Your hands tremble slightly as you begin stacking the plates, each movement deliberate, almost reverent under Wanda’s intense gaze. Her presence makes every action feel charged, like she’s watching your every move, waiting for you to finish. By the time the table is cleared, your pulse is racing, the weight of anticipation heavy in the air.

"Good girl," she murmurs. "Now, up you go.” You do as she says, immediately, not wanting any accusation of hesitation. She just watches you do exactly what she says, all she can think of is how willing your submission is, how corruptible you could be, your words holding every ounce of your experience. She couldn’t wait to watch you break as you realise the intensity of how the things you write about actually feel. “Spread out for me angel.” Wanda encourages, tapping your thighs as you are lying on your back, hands flush against your stomach.

Wanda noticed your chest rising and falling, your eyes closed and head tilted back. “Colour honey.”

“Green.” You say in a shaky rasp, and that same dangerous smile plastered itself over Wanda’s face, her fingers coming straight back to your thighs, tracing shapes against your skin, taking her time painfully slow.

Wanda steps closer, her presence radiating authority as she leans over you, her gaze sharp and hungry. “You look absolutely gorgeous,” she murmurs, her voice low and sultry. “But I want to see every inch of you tremble at my touch.”

Her fingers trail deliberately along your collarbone, igniting every nerve in your body. She reaches up to the ties at the back of your neck, her movements purposeful and assured. “Let's get this off you.” she commands, a playful smirk dancing on her lips.

She helps you sit up again, fingers brushing the back of your neck as she deftly unties the knot. “Lift your chin for me,” She instructs, her tone leaving no room for argument so you comply, feeling both exposed and electrified by her authority.

With a practised motion, she pulls the bodysuit loose, the fabric clinging for a moment longer before it begins to fall away. She leans in closer, her breath hot against your skin. “You have no idea how fucking tempting you are,” she breathes, her eyes darkening with lust.

Wanda grips the bodysuit firmly, her fingers brushing your thighs as she pulls it down with tantalising slowness. “Let’s get rid of this completely,” she states, her voice laced with a sultry command.

With one decisive tug, she yanks the bodysuit down, letting it pool around your ankles and leaving you entirely bare before her. “There we go,” she declares, her eyes roaming over your body with unabashed desire. “Now you’re exactly how I want you—completely vulnerable.” It was Wanda’s turn to be taken aback by the way your body looks completely undressed.

Her eyes widen as she takes a moment to look at all of you, your body soft, curves accentuated under the warm glow of the light above you. A slow satisfied smile spreads across her lips and her fingers twitch with the urge to touch you. You feel the heat of her palm as it glides along your side, igniting your skin. “Look at you,” Her voice thick with admiration. “You have no idea how much I want you right now.” Her eyes dark with desire, a primal instinct seems to take over as she leans in closer, her face inches from yours.

Wanda’s gaze roams up to your face, capturing the way your lips part slightly in anticipation. The contrast of your soft features against your bare skin captivates her, and she can't help but admire how your vulnerability fuels her own need.

“Every inch of you is perfect,” she breathes, her voice low and sultry. She reaches up, brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face, her fingers lingering on your cheek, as if tracing the outline of your features. As her hand slides down to your collarbone, her fingertips dance across your skin, exploring the delicate curves before moving lower, brushing teasingly against your breasts. Wanda’s eyes gleam with satisfaction, her expression of pure lust and delight as she takes in the sight of you, completely vulnerable and inviting. Your nipples immediately stand at the feeling of her nimble fingers grazing them softly. She pinches lightly at your painfully erect buds, making your back arch into her touch, a small panting moan escaping your lips before she lets go of you, a surge of fire shooting through your body as the blood is allowed to flow back to your nipples.

Her attention finally draws towards the pool of arousal that was building between your legs, your skin glistening, slick with desire. Wanda purposefully starts to circle the pad of her finger around your hardened nipple, smirking as she sees your wetness grow at just a few gentle touches. She had tried to drag this out for as long as she could, but the sight of your pussy aching, almost trembling, begging to be touched, she couldn’t help but gather your arousal with her finger. You immediately gasp at the contact, your lips turning in on themselves as you wait.

She begins to do a similar motion that made you break so quickly last time, tapping the top of your clit in an attempt to make you more sensitive to her touch, making you wish she was drawing tight circles. This didn’t seem to matter, your hips immediately buckling upwards in a desperate attempt to gain some level of continuous pressure.

“You’re already so sensitive honey,” She breathes, a grin tugging at her lips, “I like my pretty girls to stay still for me,” She states in a commanding purr, “Keep your legs open like this princess.” You nod immediately, doing anything to get her where you want her again.

Wanda reaches back over, watching the muscles in your legs quiver in an attempt to do as she asks. This time, the arousal she gathers is used to form slick circles against your clit, a gentle moan tumbling from your lips as you try desperately to keep your legs apart. The heat was building, your core beginning to weaken as Wanda continued the same pressure, same speed against you.

“Please, Wanda, I need you inside of me.” You sputter, the motions against your clit reminding you of how empty you were.

“So eager.” Wanda hums, her middle finger pulling away from your clit, curving around your folds and finding itself waiting at your entrance. She waited a few more seconds before slipping it slowly inside of you. It wasn’t a lot, but the weight it held on your desperate body was unlike anything. You let out a high pitched moan at the feeling of her inside of you, her finger gently thrusting into you, each pump and her finger curled up to meet your spot.

“God you’re so tight for me.” Wanda exclaims, a deepened smirk on her redhead's face as her index finger works its way inside of you, finding the perfect rhythm and perfect pleasure. She can feel you beginning to tighten even more than before, so her other hand finds the same circular motion around your clit that makes you tremble. Your string of moans had become louder and your chest had begun to rise and fall faster. As your body tightens, on the brink of release, Wanda pulls her hand away. “Not yet princess, I think I need to stretch you out a little more first.” You immediately whimper in frustration, exactly what the redhead wanted from you.

Without a word, Wanda left the room, leaving you with your legs spread, arousal leaking out of you, your core burning from being left on the edge. She re-emerges quite quickly and you tilt your head up to see what she has done. She was holding some rope and a wand, smaller than the usual type, the type that looked like it would be light enough to stay in place.

“I need you to stay still for me like I asked you, pretty girl.” Wanda warned in response to your hips jolting upwards from the sight of Wanda’s new props. She ties the rope around your waist, looping it carefully around your thighs, securing the vibrator through the small opening that she’d created.

She doesn’t turn it on immediately, just watching as your cheeks grow red at your new level of vulnerability. “Hands remain on the table.” She orders before immediately sliding her two fingers back inside of you, creating that same relentless rhythm, but this time you could feel the power she was putting in her wrist. Before you have a chance to react to her fingers, she switches the vibrator on to the lowest setting sending shockwaves through your body. Your body was tensing in an attempt to stay as still as you could, but the vibrations were intensifying everything and you could feel yourself getting closer again.

She pulls out of you, turning the vibrator off just at the right time. She had become so fine tuned to your body already, noticing exactly when your growing orgasm was just reaching its peak. She didn’t say anything this time, just caressing your thighs and feeling the warmth radiating from every inch of bare skin on show to her.

She barely gives you a chance to recover, switching on the vibrator to which you immediately gasp and whimper underneath her gaze. This time, she thrusts three fingers into you and you moan pornographically at the forceful stretch around her digits. Your thighs tremble, wanting to close, you move them just an inch but Wanda stops everything the moment you even dare to move them.

Her fingers dig into your jaw, forcefully grabbing your face and turning it towards hers. “Don’t make me angry angel.” She warns, voice low, dark, laced with a stern desire. The desire in your eyes catching her off guard, she’d been so focused on your body that she’d forgotten your youthful innocence and the way you wanted to please her. She let go of your face, instead her hand wrapping firmly around your throat, squeezing the sides briefly as a distant reminder to stay with your legs openly spread.

With your little slip up she removes the vibrator from its place, a small whine leaving your lips but you’re met with a squinted look and you immediately fall silent. She goes to untie the rope, but she decides to leave it, liking the way it makes you look. Her eyes were glimmering with satisfaction at the sight of your shaking body. She pulls you to the edge of the table by the underneath of your thighs, your skin fires beneath her hands. She begins to place gentle kisses against your legs, leaving trails of her beige lipstick, the once singular prints becoming a long stretch of paint up your thighs. She places an individual kiss against your clit, feeling your hips buckle upwards so she places her hand on your lower stomach, forcing you to stay still. She could tell you were going to need physical restraints in the future, your incessant squirming causing her issues.

She starts gentle, her mouth finding your leaking arousal, slowly lapping at your soaked entrance before taking her tongue up the entire length of your slit, stopping just before your aching clit. She allows your clit to be taken between her lips, lightly sucking against your bud and you could barely hear yourself moaning with such passion in the heat of it all. She begins to flick her tongue back and forth over your clit, reaching her hand over to allow for her fingers to gather up some of your arousal as she feels your body begin to shake uncontrollably. Your body is hanging on the edge, doing everything you can to not push yourself over the edge. She places one final kiss against your entrance before coming up for a breath.

“You’re doing so well for such an inexperienced whore.” She growls, her primal instincts taking over, all of your pretty sounds and pathetic squirming making it impossible for her to not allow you to cum over and over, screaming out your name in a gut wrenching attempt to keep ahold of yourself. Wanda moves around the table, allowing her fingers to graze your lips, slowly parting them.

“Open your mouth,” she commands, her voice low and sultry, sending a thrill down your spine. You hesitate for a moment, the weight of her words settling over you. But the heat in her eyes encourages you to comply. You part your lips slowly, anticipation building as you lean closer, the space between you charged with electric tension.

With deliberate slowness, Wanda brings her fingers to your mouth, the tips glistening slightly as they hover before you. “Good girl. I want you to taste yourself,” she instructs, her tone firm yet inviting. You can’t help but shiver at the authority in her voice, the way it wraps around you like a warm embrace.

She presses her fingers past your lips, the soft warmth of her skin brushing against your tongue. “Just like that,” she murmurs, her breath hitching as you begin to suck gently, your eyes wide with a mix of desire and uncertainty. The taste of you is intoxicating, and as you swirl your tongue around her fingers, you can see the satisfaction blooming in her gaze.

“See how easy it is to submit tp what you want?” she teases, her voice thick with pleasure. Her fingers curl slightly, pressing deeper into your mouth, and you can feel the rush of heat flooding your cheeks. “You’re doing so well, but I need you to beg for it,” she urges, her voice a sultry whisper.

You can feel the tension coiling within you, the need for more bubbling to the surface. “Please, Wanda,” you manage to murmur around her fingers, desperation lacing your words. “I want more.”

A wicked smile spreads across her face, and she withdraws her fingers just enough to tease you, the loss of contact making you whine softly in protest. “I know you want more, baby. But I want you to really earn it. Keep sucking. Show me how much you crave it.”

With that, you dive back in, your lips working hungrily around her fingers, the sensation pushing you further into a state of bliss. Wanda watches you intently, her breath quickening as she revels in the sight of you completely lost in submission.

Suddenly, she thrusts her fingers deeper, the movement swift and demanding. You gag slightly, your throat tightening around her, and your eyes widen with surprise. “That’s it, just like that,” she encourages, her voice low and breathy. “Feel it. Let go of that hesitation.”

Each thrust is deliberate, her fingers stretching you, hitting the back of your throat. You can hear the wet sounds as you try to accommodate her, your body instinctively fighting to breathe. “Don’t pull away,” she instructs, her tone laced with both authority and encouragement. “You’re doing so well for me love. Just breathe through it.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you struggle to hold back the reflex to recoil, but the thrill of the moment and her praise spurs you on. You look up at her, desperation mixed with a newfound hunger reflected in your gaze. Wanda’s eyes darken with desire, and she leans closer, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. “I want to see you choke on my fingers like my pathetic little whore. Let me know how much you want it.”

You moan around her digits, the sound vibrating through your chest, a mix of pleasure and the instinctive urge to push her away. But you can’t. You won’t. All that matters is her, and the intoxicating thrill of submission that flows through you like fire burning straight to your core. The sound of you gagging around her fingers coated in your own arousal was making Wanda’s legs buckle slightly, but she wasn’t going to stop. Once she’d removed her fingers from your mouth, she spread your saliva over your lips and down your chin, letting you be painted in a mix of spit and arousal, your lips still parted, small pants escaping them.

She went back to her original position, her shoulders budging between your thighs and instead of taking it slow, her tongue immediately attacked your already sensitive and burning clit. Wanda began to find those circles you loved so much with her tongue, hardening her muscle and getting you closer and closer to the edge, quicker and quicker than the times before. She switches out her tongue for her fingers, “You taste so sweet,” she purrs, a wicked grin on her lips, “And look at you, so pathetic and desperate for me.”

You groan, unable to form any words, your body unable to still itself, your back arching for me. So she dives back in, rough and intense, both her tongue and fingers getting you back to that same brink that you had become so familiar with. Just as you’re about to tip over, she pulls back again, a chuckle emitting from her lips in harmony with your desperate whimpers of pure frustration.

“If you want it,” She teases, her voice dripping with cruelty as you hang on the edge, “You’ll have to beg.”

Wanda, please... touch me again,” you beg, the words spilling out in a breathless rush, the desperation had taken over any ounce of humiliation you feel at begging like this. “I can’t take it. I need your fingers inside me. I need to feel you just one more time, please!”

Wanda’s lips curl into a slow, deliberate smile, and she tilts her head, eyes glimmering with mischief. “Oh, sweetheart, you want me to touch you? You want to feel my fingers again?” She taunts, her tone sultry, each word dripping with seduction.

“Yes!” you cry out, your desperation rising. “I need it, Wanda! I’m so close, just a little more! I promise I’ll be your good little girl. I’ll do whatever you want, just please touch me again!” You arch your back slightly, instinctively trying to draw her closer, your body aching for her touch.

She leans in, her breath hot against your ear. “You want me to touch you? Beg for it like you mean it. Show me just how much you want it, you can do better than this.” she whispers, her voice a silky promise that sends shivers down your spine.

You swallow hard, your heart racing as you feel the weight of her words. “I need you, Wanda, I can't hold back anymore. I want to feel you again; I want your fingers working me up until I can’t take it anymore! I need you to make me feel good please let me come for you.” Your voice wavers, thick with urgency and need.

Wanda watches you intently, her eyes dark with desire. “That’s more like it,” she murmurs, clearly enjoying your pleas. Your body trembles with anticipation, the overwhelming need coursing through you, begging for her touch. You meet her gaze, your eyes wide and pleading, silently begging her to see just how desperate you are. “But don’t be so ungrateful.” Her voice snaps and she leans over again, her nails digging into your chin as she pushes your head up to meet hers. She prises your lips open between her fingers, slowly drawing a long line of spit from her mouth so it lands exactly onto your tongue. She forces your mouth shut. “Swallow it,” She commands, her eyes locked on yours, “Or I’ll leave you here aching for me.”

You comply happily, swallowing quickly, the taste of her sending another wave of arousal through you. She smirks, grabbing your hand and pressing it against her crotch. You breathe slowly, your eyes widening when you feel a hard bulge underneath her trousers. She was already wearing a strap, and she’d been wearing it the whole time. You swallow again, this time with nerves. She’d made you feel fucked out with just her fingers, her stamina relentless against your trembling body. “Just incase my poor baby became ungrateful and I had to fuck it out of her.”

Your body responds instantly, arousal doubling between your legs. Wanda continues to tease you once more, she barely circled your clit for thirty seconds before you were at the edge again. Begging wasn’t an option anymore, it was a necessity.

“Pleas-”

Her eyes flash with a mix of desire and authority, but something shifts in her demeanour. Your pleading seems to reach a breaking point within her. In one swift motion, she grabs your waist, flipping you over onto the table with an ease that sends a thrill through you.

“Enough of this,” she says, her voice low and commanding. You feel the cool surface of the table against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat pooling in your core. She unzips her trousers, pulling them down and stepping out of them, she was so deep in her own heat now that her grasps against her own trousers were the least controlled out of any. Wanda positions herself behind you, the unmistakable weight of her strap pressing against you, eliciting a soft whimper from your lips. “You need to learn to take what I give you and stop complaining.”

As she slides into you, it’s a seamless invasion, filling you completely. A deep, primal gasp escapes you, a mix of surprise and pleasure as you adjust to the sensation. Wanda holds your hips firm, her grip possessive and reassuring, making sure you’re wholly hers in this moment.

“Now, let’s see just how well you can handle this,” she breathes, her voice sultry and filled with authority. With that, she begins to move, her rhythm deliberate and punishing, igniting every nerve ending within you. “Look at how well you take me,” She pants, forcing your body to meet every hard and rough thrust that she piles into you, your body nothing more than a moaning desperate mess. “You’re made to take my cock, it fits you perfectly.”

Wanda continues to roughly thrust into you, but once she snakes her arm around your body, one hand begins to circle your clit, while the other grips the fistful of hair that you’d bundled atop of your head, pulling you body back to meet her movements. You know you’re dangerously close, but you didn’t want to beg again, you were just praying that she’d stop before you had no choice but to cum all over Wanda’s scarlet red cock.

“Go ahead,” She says, and your eyes widen at the unexpected permission, “Cum for me, but If you do, I’m not stopping.”

Your body obeys instinctively, breaking under the relentless pressure as your climax crashes through you. You cum hard, your muscles clenching, back arching, but Wanda doesn’t relent. Her thrusts only quicken, her grip on your hips tightening with possessive intensity.

“Don’t think,” she growls low in your ear, her voice dripping with control. “Just keep cumming for me. I’ll do the thinking for you.”

The sharp sting of her palm lands on your ass, a slap that reverberates through you, sending a fresh wave of pleasure-pain shooting up your spine. The sensation tips you over the edge again, your body trembling as another orgasm builds impossibly fast, the intensity leaving you breathless and quaking beneath her. You’d never orgasmed twice in such a quick succession. “Mm, You can cum from just one spank, you’re so pathetic.” She spat at you, pulling out of you quickly, your cunt on fire with sensitivity.

Wanda flips you onto your back with effortless strength, her movements controlled but purposeful. Her eyes lock on your flushed, tear-streaked face, and a wicked gleam flickers in her gaze. She leans over you, her lips hovering just above yours. “I want to see that pretty face when you break for me,” she murmurs, her thumb brushing gently across your smudged lipstick. Her touch is almost tender, a stark contrast to the intense control she exudes.

For a moment, her expression softens as she wipes the mascara-streaked tears from your cheeks, her fingers warm against your skin. It’s a fleeting tenderness that sends a wave of vulnerability through you. Then, without warning, she captures your lips in a heated kiss, her mouth hot and possessive against yours. Her breath mingles with yours as she whispers against your lips, “You’re perfect.”

Her words sink into you, a heady mix of praise and control. You shudder beneath her, the tenderness making you feel even more exposed. Her pace slows as she shifts between your legs, her fingers moving with calculated precision, circling your swollen clit. The sensation burns through you, rising in waves, her touch just enough to push you toward the edge but not enough to tip you over.

“You’re going to keep cumming for me, aren’t you?” she purrs, her voice sultry and commanding. Each word feels like a command you can't refuse, your body already responding to her every touch. “You want to impress me, don’t you?”

You nod desperately, the ache in your core unbearable, every nerve in your body on high alert. A small, satisfied grin tugs at the corner of Wanda’s mouth. “Then thank me. Every. Single. Time,” she orders, her fingers increasing their pressure, drawing tight circles against your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the brink.

Your orgasm builds, sharp and unstoppable. When it crashes over you, your voice breaks as you gasp, “Thank you,” the words spilling from your lips in a hoarse whisper. Wanda’s eyes glint with satisfaction as she watches you unravel beneath her, but she doesn't stop. Her fingers continue to work you, expertly building you up again. Wanda’s grin grows wider, a mix of pride and control in her expression as she drinks in the sight of you coming apart under her touch.

“You’re doing so well,” she murmurs, her voice dripping with praise, her fingers never faltering. She watches every tremor in your body, every gasp that escapes your lips, her gaze filled with a deep, almost possessive satisfaction. “Keep cumming for me. I want you to give me everything.”

You nod frantically, tears pooling at the corner of your eyes from the overwhelming intensity, knowing you’ll do anything to keep her pleased. Each time you shatter beneath her, you thank her, your voice growing weaker, more desperate, but Wanda's control over you only deepens, her satisfaction palpable with every broken plea that leaves your lips.

“Colour sweetheart?” She asks in response to your limp fucked out body, you could barely think straight, but you knew one thing, you didn’t want her to stop this ever.

“Green, so green, oh my god.” Wanda loved the response, gripping your ass and pulling your body up to her face, now balancing your body on your elbows as she holds your pussy up to her mouth. Every single flick of her tongue, every suck that she makes against your clit between her lips was beginning to burn, your body unable to react to any contact anymore.

“It’s okay honey, just one more for me okay.” Wanda coos, feeling your trembling body underneath her harsh grip against your thighs, her nails still digging in, it would definitely leave a mark. “I just want to see you cum against my tongue like my dirty little slut one more time.” She’d become addicted to watching you cum, the way her name would tumble from your lips in a gut-wrenching plea for the session to be over.

You give it to her, the time between your orgasms had gotten continually shorter, and now even though every part of your body was resisting the harsh swipes of her tongue against your clit, each swirl she took against your arousal, you could feel your orgasm getting closer and closer, not able to stop it even if you wanted to.

When you came, you came hard, Wanda’s name escaping your lips in a scream as your body went into complete overdrive. You couldn’t stop the shaking and the squirming as you writhe around with the intense amount of pleasure that shot through your body. Finally, Wanda lets you come back down, your body trembling with exhaustion. Her touch turns soft, soothing, as she pulls you up into her arms, perching on the table in order to cradle your trembling figure. “Thank you.”

“You did so well for me,” She whispers, kissing your temple. Her fingers undo the bun that was already half out from all the manhandling. Now she can drag her nails through your hair as she holds you, grounding you back after the intensity of the session. She grabs you a blanket from the sofa behind her, wrapping you carefully up like her little present. “I’m so proud of you sweetheart,” She states with confidence, her cheeks glowing as she whispers endless praises into your ear.

“That was incredible Wands, I really want to be yours, in any way that you want me.” You say honestly, your voice still wobbling as you warmed up under the blanket. “I never want to stop.”

“We don’t have to pretty girl, you will be mine for as long as you wish to be.” She says honestly, placing a kiss against your temple, “You’re proving to be an exemplary little one, hm.” You smile at her praise, snuggling your head into the crook of your neck while Wanda reaches for a glass of water for you. “Rest now baby, I’ll take care of everything.”

She waits for you to be ready before getting up and setting some pillows down on the sofa for you to finally relax properly, which you immediately take her up on. She hovers around you, not knowing where your limits lie in terms of aftercare, not wanting to break any boundaries.

“Are you joining me?” You ask innocently, opening up your arm and offering her a place to sit and cuddle into you. She looks hesitant at first, nervous about breaking any of her limits, but the way you’re sat huddled in a blanket, those innocent puppy dog eyes that she couldn’t resist. She sits down next to you, the sofa dipping at the weight and goes to put her arm around you. You push her away, pulling her in and watch as her cheeks flush pink as you squeezed her arm. “Is this okay?”

“I love it.”

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queenimmadolla · 10 months ago

Text

𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐝

Summary: A glimpse into Eddie’s morning as a first time and young dad with his baby. Oh, and you’re there, too.

Warnings: allusions to sexy stuff, descriptions of breastfeeding (it’s natural—suck it up), and fluff.

a/n: pulled this one out of the vault for you guys, written last July. hope you like it!

Eddie’s up before you and surprised to see it’s light outside, a sight he hasn’t woken up to in the last couple of months. Two, to be exact.

That’s when the two of you had brought Penny home.

Eddie yawned, impressively loud before he slapped a hand over his mouth, gaze flickering to you but you were still asleep; on your stomach with your face partially hidden in your pillow. You’d successfully kicked the sheets off yourself in your sleep, leaving your legs bare and your top half covered with one of Eddie’s larger shirts.

One of your legs was bent at the knee and raised up near your elbow.

God, you always looked so fucking delectable. All he’d have to do is rouse you with some kisses pressed to your neck, settle himself behind you, pull his boxers down and move your panties to the side and he could just—

Eddie inhaled sharply, tearing his gaze away from your body before his blood could rush off to an area he didn’t have the time to acknowledge, as the very reason he couldn’t partake in his little fantasy cooed from her crib.

She’d been the result of a very similar event.

He took a couple of moments to calm himself, squeezing his eyes shut as he promised, soon.

Then he got out of bed, snagging a band t-shirt from the dresser as he walked to the crib on the other end of the room.

Eddie yanked on the shirt—only briefly struggling with the arm holes—before he was peering into the crib, mouth breaking out in a megawatt grin.

Penny was awake alright, big brown eyed stare focused on a sticker that had been plastered to the wall of his room long before she was even conceived. You’d swaddled her before putting her to bed last night, so she looked like an adorable, content burrito.

Once she realized Eddie was hovering over her, the sticker lost her attention and those big beautiful eyes were on him, sparkling as her mouth parted in a gummy smile big enough to rival his own.

Daddy came to rescue her from confinement.

“Hi, baby, good morning!” Eddie cooed, trying his best to excitedly whisper so as to not disturb you, but he couldn’t help it. He was still so thrilled—and fucking terrified—to be a dad, to have that cute face peering up at him every morning and waiting for him when he got home from work. She always looked at him like he was the greatest thing to walk the earth, always so delighted to see her daddy.

Even though she’d start crying for you the moment you came into view—but you had an advantage he lacked, you always had her food on you. Her walking meal ticket.

And Eddie couldn’t even blame her, he was a huge fan of your boobs and he’d even bet he appreciated them more than Penny.

Eddie reached into the crib, tugging the tucked in corner of the blanket out and as the blanket around her loosened, Penny’s arms shot up near her head, her tiny body arching as she stretched for a comically long period of time. Eddie chuckled, using it to his advantage, he slipped an arm behind her back and head with the other supporting her bottom as he picked her up, pressing a kiss to her head (and giving her hair a secret little sniff to get a whiff of that baby scent of hers).

“Did you sleep good, honey?” He cradled her in one arm, tucked close to his chest as he carried her out of the room to start on breakfast.

Penny obviously didn’t answer, head resting against his collarbone.

“Heard you woke up mom last night—well, early this morning, I guess—with boobie demands.”

Eddie pulled the fridge open, hovering in front of it as he debated on its contents before selecting the cartridge of eggs.

He didn’t want to put Penny down, happy to have her curled up in his arms, so a simple breakfast would have to do. A pan was pulled out, so was a little bit of cooking oil and soon Eddie was breaking the eggs out of the shell—angling his body to the side so Penny wasn’t at risk of possible oil splash back—and letting them cook.

“You like eggs?” Eddie asked, stepping a little ways from the stove as he hitched her higher on his chest and held the eggshells out for her to see.

She kicked her legs, a roll covered arm shakily reaching out towards the shells but Eddie kept them out of her reach.

“Uh-uh, no sticky fingers for you, young lady.”

The shells were tossed in the trash can but Penny didn’t care, twisting her upper so her chest was pressed to his. She gripped his shirt loosely in her chunky fist as she leaned forward and mouthed at his shoulder, effectively soaking the area with her drool before she began to suckle.

“Jesus, you act like we starve you.” Eddie chuckled, reaching for a recently washed pacifier to pop into her mouth.

She seemed to prefer it over his shirt, doing a full body sigh once she was suckling on it, with her need partially sated (eddie knew he had about fifteen minutes to wrap up breakfast before she realized nothing was coming from it and would start crying), Penny went back to cuddling into his chest.

She was starting to be a little more active—not sleeping as much as she did this time last month but for the most part, her movements were still unstable. She had good neck control (you’d had to pin Eddie down to keep him from picking her up when she’d immediately cry upon being put down for tummy time), she liked to kick her legs like she was about to take off for a marathon, but she still couldn’t quite hold things for long (unless it was hair or fingers) and had yet to roll over without you cheating and nudging her the rest of the way.

Speaking of making Penny do things…

Eddie lost to his intrusive thought, rearranging his hold on Penny so he was gently grasping her sides as he placed her feet on the counter. Immediately, she popped down to squat before shooting up again. And then she did it once more, getting comfortable with using her legs.

She didn’t even seem to wonder why Eddie was making her stand, she was more focused on staring intensely at her own feet.

Then Eddie made her jump, lifted her up and down and up and down, and when that got her smiling wide enough for her pacifier to fall out of her mouth, Eddie moved onto the cabinets.

“Go, baby, go!” He turned her on her side, miming the motions of her chunky legs running over the top cabinets like some baby ninja and laughing at how big her smile managed to keep getting, her big eyes squinting with it.

“What are you doing to my baby?” You asked as you emerged from the bedroom, rubbing sleep from your eyes.

“She’s gonna be the next Karate Ki—hello.”

Eddie couldn’t help himself, dark gaze trailing over your figure as you stood there, hair a wreck, no pants, oversized t-shirt—ooh, and a leaking nipple.

Eddie’s favorite. Yum.

You followed his gaze, scoffing at the dark stain growing over your left boob, hand pressing against it to stop it as if you were applying pressure to a wound.

“It heard her,” You pouted, lip stuck out and wobbling at him as you referenced your body’s response to the sound of your baby. Crying, giggling, whimpering—didn’t matter, your milk ducts went into overdrive, aware that your baby was conscious and could need a feeding. Her baby noises were like a trigger sequence.

Eddie lifted Penny to his face, pressing fervent kisses into the chub of her cheeks, “Score for you, babe!”

You rolled your eyes, completely, utterly fond and smitten over the interaction. He briefly abandoned the kitchen to hand her to you after you’d made yourself comfortable on the couch, ready to fall to his knees in adoration.

You pulled the shirt over your breast, and despite trying to place your nipple in her mouth for her, Penny struggled to find it, mouthing greedily at your boob, her little head turning this way and that way but always missing the peak.

“Girl, it’s right there.” You laughed. Penny gave it like four more seconds of trying before her whimpers kicked in and you hurriedly managed to get her to latch, stopping the outburst.

And just like that, Penny was content, making satisfied little squeaks as she nursed and stared up at you, pretending like she hadn’t been moments away from screaming her lungs out.

And Eddie was distracted, solely focused on the two of you and how he wanted to roll around on the carpet because the cuteness aggression was almost unbearable. If this was how he would be spending every work-free morning for the rest of his life, he was ready to convert to being a morning person.

Especially if those big sparkly eyes and that gummy smile would be staring up at him. GOD-she was so stinking cute. He wanted to smother her in his affection, but she was growing annoyed with Eddie all up in her face and squishing the chub she was accumulating. She even cried if he faked chewed on her chunky cheeks for too long.

“What’s that smell?” You asked, snapping him out of his love stupor as you sniffed loudly.

“FUCK!” Eddie bolted back to the kitchen, smoke surrounding the pan and what had once been edible eggs, “Hey, honey, what’s your opinion on extra crispy eggs? You a risk taker?”

“The answer to that is hurting my nipple right now.”

“Valid. That was a very fun risk.”

divider ℗ cafekitsune ♡

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osamucide · 6 months ago

Text

gladly

gladly i’ll burn up for you if you burn up for me

NSFW—MINORS DNI

wc: 1.2k

cw: dazai x gn!reader, explicit sexual content, no plot just horny and fluffy, established relationship, somno(?)(sleepy, anyway), handjob, grinding, nipple play, use of “baby,” “darling,” pillow princess dazai my most beloved

reid: this position bruh i’m going to go so feral that i eat my own hand. not the smut i intended to publish next but apparently the smut i needed to publish next. a little something short while i put off a longer dazai smut. i <3 soft lazy dazai enjoy

. . . .ᐟ

You know mornings like this should be rarer than they are.

His charming insistence, however muted by his sleep-addled laziness, hardly ever fails on you. In fact, it all might make him more tempting—that, the warmth of newly recharged bodies, the honey behind his drooping eyelids, the wandering of his hands and rolling of his hips against yours that feels so sweetly and foreignly unmapped and confused, yes, it’s equal parts all those things and you’re sure some others that you can’t conjure up into words through your early-hour fog. Yes, very few things Osamu ever does without meticulous planning, but he does let a certain vulnerability crack through on mornings like this, a vulnerability that’s evident in between his parting lips and the soft, unpracticed whines that live and die there. And yes, you’re one of the primary reasons—if not the primary reason—Osamu’s so often late to show up to work, but it’s difficult for you to feel guilty when your senses find their way back to the waking realm amongst his pretty sounds rumbling from his chest into your ear, his back arching back against your touch, and his soft brown hair splayed around his head like a halo.

The rational side of you should be dragging your dear boyfriend up and out of bed but it appears to still be asleep as you let your fingertips creep beneath his waistband. You shut the morning light out in favor of pressing your eyes beneath his collarbone; your thumb finds his tip, and if you weren't on the threshold of consciousness you would let out a giggle at the way his breath catches. You can feel Osamu's fingers curling tenderly around your wrist—a silent plea for you to keep going, touch him more, and you'll oblige, but you have to kiss the triangle of his shoulder first, so you do; your tongue deftly finds his nipple, and he's so pliant half-beneath you that you can slot his thigh between both of your own—it’s all you'll need, you can tell, as his head dips to the side on the pillow to catch a half-lidded glimpse of you working him into a mess so early and so easily. He'll return the favor without even trying, just by laying there and letting you move the way you do; he's so gorgeous all bleary from slumber, palming your lower back to guide you against him. You move. You move, looking up at him like he’s an angel, and his vision melts to warm darkness again. It's all he'll need, too.

You’d think he was falling back asleep if it wasn’t for the slow and steady bucking of his hips up into your hand. Winding your fingers around his base elicits a whine from his diaphragm—one you can hear against him as your own eyes roll shut and your tongue continues to idle. It’s all so natural, the way you stroke him, lick him, grind on him, that you feel yourself slipping back into unconsciousness. It’s his noises that you hang on for.

He’s far from alert, but words tumble out in whispers.

“Baby, it feels so good, don’t stop…”

You hum, more in response to his mumblings and less from the friction you create against his thigh; nonetheless, you’re sensitive, and as you keep rhythm along his cock he flexes against you and the way that you feel, splitting the line of slumber and wakefulness and writhing hotly against your lover, is divine.

You wish you could live in this kind of moment for the rest of your life. Too often you find yourself overwhelmed; regrettably and even more often you find Osamu overwhelmed. It’s never so obvious to anyone as it is to you, so he doesn’t tend to let on to anyone but you, and maybe that’s why you keep things like this sacred, because for once he doesn’t seem to be thinking, analyzing, inquiring, even how he does when you regularly have sex—forever the pleaser, he’s always looking to you with eyes asking questions like is it enough? Even outside of sex, god, in every aspect—you know he never stops wondering the same thing about himself: is it enough? Does it feel good? Am I enough? And the answer you give him is always a resounding yes, and you want so badly for him to believe you because he’s just as much your angel as you are his. You hope that mornings like this communicate it louder than your reassurances can. Your pleasure—in everything, in life—is so vividly amplified by his wellness, his peace, his own pleasure. You love him so deeply. He loves you like a stray cat finally living in comfort. You’ll never let a morning like this slip.

“Right there, right there,” he encourages as you squeeze just below his tip; his head lolls from side to side almost as if he’s dreaming (sometimes he thinks he is with you) and you track his movements through your own bliss, dragging your hips back and forth desperately as you double down on the spot that forces full-bodied moans from his pretty mouth. He’s close, he begs you; you’re frantic on his thigh, feeling yourself cum in a haze that has him tensing—you grind harder, harder, harder, sighing out his name until you’re spent so you can prop yourself up on your elbow to watch his face in the thickly-curtained sunlight.

“Oh, fuck, fuck— fuhhh— ah, uh-huh, ah—”

His eyes flicker open to catch your tired smile and he’s cumming—his grip on your ass is the only thing grounding him as his jaw falls slack, your lashes flutter in pure satisfaction, and he twitches, sent to the clouds by his beloved who looks at him with such adoration that he catches himself believing for a second that he must be beautiful; you work incredible magic on him. His brain and his body, both so used to neglect and abuse, finally feel like fruitful grounds for love. He finally feels whole as his cum drips down your fingers.

It is then that you do giggle and lean down to place a quick kiss to his nipple; he’s breathless, pink in the face, and you know you couldn’t love him more, and yet you will as each second passes.

Osamu brings his hand up to your hair, and your next kiss lands on his lips as he wills you down. It’s tender and lasts much longer than expected—you almost start your hips against him again, but the snoozed alarm at your bedside rings for the fourth time. You glance over. He was supposed to be out the door five minutes ago.

“Oh, shut it off,” he groans resentfully.

“As if.” You press one more kiss to his cheek before you unpeel yourself from him and punch the ringer into silence. “I’ll put coffee on.”

“Shower with me before I go, please.” He rubs his eyes and sits up. You strip out of your sticky shorts.

“Of course, darling.”

You pad to the kitchen. He watches you go with a warmth he didn’t know himself to be capable of.

And a smirk.

Maybe he can talk you into one more round in the bathroom.

#with love—reid #osamu dazai x reader #dazai x reader #bsd x reader #bsd smut #dazai smut #nnnsfw.ᐟ

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mysticmoosenger · 3 months ago

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✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝕗****𝕕 𝕦𝕡 ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

𝐫𝐢𝐩 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭, 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐤, 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭��𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭…

synopsis: deciding to ask choso to switch roles!

themes: sub!choso, dom!reader, orgasm denial, edging, nicknames, begging, reader is evil, choso is just a little guy

characters: choso <3 love my boy and hate gege

a/n: hi very happy to be back, excited to write more. everything i’ve written previously is deleted from my page bc i want to start fresh haha. college is destroying my hopes and dreams rn. also, i didnt proofread this like at all and its 4am, so just like, ignore my fuck ups please ily

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・.

●・○・●・○・●

choso! ur a super freak!

He wont show it, but he is already cumming at the thought of it. He is 110% a switch, but has been taking the dominant role since you seemed so sweet and eager to let him use you to do whatever he pleased.

“baby, I dont know how you feel about it and maybe it’s weird for me to say but… do you mind if I take the lead a little?”

That caught him off guard. Like totally off guard. As he was taking off your shirt his hands froze and his assault on your neck paused, He blinked a few times and asked to make sure thats really what he heard, “…you mean like, you want to be dominant?”

You shyly nod and continue to run your hands through the hair at the nape of his neck, his signature buns starting to unravel, somehow making him even hotter. God, you wanted to eat him alive.

After a few more seconds of processing, he quietly responds, “…yes love”

You feel him slowly kiss the marks he left you on your collarbone, his hands now gently reaching to remove your shirt. As he goes to lift it over your head, he moves back to allow you some space to wriggle the tight material past your shoulders. You catch a glimpse of his face right as he backs up, his face a bright red and his eyes looking glossy, he looks perfectly pitiful. Wow… you never realized how badly you have wanted to do this.

You manage to free yourself from your constricting top, taking off your bra as well. Choso watches you, his eyes following your every move, scanning your body. It’s obvious how down bad this poor boy is for you. You had never expected him to be this eager about switching roles.

The upper half of your clothing now gone, the red LED lights around the border of Choso’s room making your skin look flawless and irresistible. You swear you can see the poor boy drooling over you, waiting for you to order him around, use him, and make him a sobbing mess. He’s sitting in front of you on the bed, his hands tentatively resting on your thighs, staring at you with those sleepy dark eyes. He still had a bit of eyeliner on from earlier in the day, now starting to smudge and give him adorable tear stains. “okay cho… please strip for me baby”, you coo, wanting to mark up that broad muscular chest of his.

He slips his black compression tee over his head in one fluid motion, exposing his perfect abs and those sexy tattoos trailing down them leading to his hips. He stops and begins to run his hands from your waist to your tits, awaiting more instruction, already beet red and breathing fast. His heart is beating so fast that it starts to make him dizzy with lust. “I said strip cho. everything. be a good boy for me okay?”

You have never seen your man this worked up in the entirety of your relationship before. He moves at what seems like lightening speed, tearing off his pants, looking at you for approval as you nod for him to take off his boxers too. His dick springs out with possibly the hardest and angriest boner you’ve ever seen. You motion with your head for him to lay down, crawling on top of him and hovering your clothed pussy over his dripping dick. His eyes begging you to fuck him, he begins to snake his hands around your hips, trying to get you to at least touch him. “no cho, hands up by the headboard.” you say, pulling his wrists together and pinning them above his head. “if you move them I’m not letting you cum today.”

Choso nods immediately, knowing that he’d rather die than not be allowed to finish tonight. You make eye contact and slowly dip down to meet his lips with yours, your hand sliding down his arm from his wrists, gently caressing his muscular tattooed biceps. “you belong to me, got it cho?” you purr against his lips. He lets out an erotic whimper in response, which honestly takes both of you by surprise. You pause and let it replay in your head a few times before saying, “I’m totally breaking you tonight. how did I never know you had such a cute little submissive side?”

You move your hand to gently squeeze his throat and rejoin his lips, tongue grazing gently along his lips, his occasionally meeting yours. And while Choso has a submissive side, he’s still freaky. As you move to pull away, he nips at your bottom lip, making you moan in response, “god I love you.”

You begin to move down his body, leaving little nips and kisses on the way to his beautiful abs. You glance up at his flustered face as you start to fill the gaps between his tattoos with little hickies to mark your territory. “no one else is allowed to see you like this, alright cho? mmmm fuck, no one..” you moan against his skin. You love the idea of your love bites being shown off in his weekly gym pictures.

Choso is squirming, overwhelmed at the sensation of you kissing by his v-line. “..mmm pl-please y/n… ohmygo-d yes pleaseee…” he rambles, his eyes squeezing shut and his eyeliner now officially all over his cheeks, complimenting the long tattoo over the center of his nose. His hair has almost completely fallen out of his buns, now tangled and fanned out around his face. He really does look angelic. And pitiful. You just want to ruin him.

“please what baby? please stop? its too much and i should stop?” you tease as you reduce your love bites to feathered kisses, barely touching his skin. “n-nooo please no i w-want mmore~ please baby y/n p-pleas- oh my go- god fuck!” he begs, his mouth agape and his hips writhing to try to get any pressure remotely to his dick.

You decide that since he has been so good (and you just want to make him a whimpering mess) he deserves a little treat. Your lips ghost down his thigh and to his balls, placing a gentle kiss to them. You quickly suck on your fingers to give them some lube while making sure Choso has a good view, and begin to stroke his shaft. With the way Choso is moaning, you speed up your movements, twirling your fingers over his angry, dripping tip and the end of every motion. Your other arm wraps around one of his thighs, doing your best to pin him in place. His hand slid down sneakily to rest atop your head, lacing his fingers through your hair. Your tongue found a sweet spot towards the base of his balls, eliciting a loud “FUCK oh my- fuck y-yes y/n there!” You continue stroking him and swirling your tongue against his sensitive spots until he is shaking, his hips desperately attempting to buck upwards. Right as he is about to finish, you remove your hands and sit back, away from his cock.

You smile, taking in the gorgeous sight before you. Choso is breathing in loud pants, whimpering and shaking from the abrupt stop of the stimulation. His eyes are teary, his makeup smeared, and his lips are glossy from your kisses. Trailing down, there is a line of love bites leading to his tattoos. His lower abdomen is drenched in slick precum. “baby please p-please keep going~” he begs in between pants.

You giggle slightly sadistically and gently run your fingertips around his v-line and base of his dick. Moving your head up, you give him a sloppy kiss, again inciting cute whimpers from his throat. “cho love, you remember what I said earlier about your hands? Dont think I didnt notice baby…”

Choso lets out a loud moan in protest, begging you for a second chance.

Luckily for him…. the clock just hit midnight.

ending a/n: thank u for reading!! please send in requests my asks are open! or just talk to me!! love u guys and im so excited to be back! :)

#anime #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #manga #choso kamo #gojo satoru #geto suguru #choso smut #choso x reader #jjk choso #jjk headcanons #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk fanfic #jjk oneshot #choso imagine

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trippygalaxy · 8 months ago

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Zagreus' Nicknames For You!

First x reader thing I'm making for Hades, and I wanted to do something small to get comfortable with this new fandom sooo nicknames headcanon it is! I hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: Zagreus x GN! Reader Warnings: NOT BETA READ!! (sorry for spelling errors!), suggestive language? its not meant to be--, Word count: 500+

Little Minx

A nickname said with mirth in his voice and a playful glare that holds nothing but love.

You, among with many others in the House, like to teasingly poke at the Prince's buttons with playful jabs and taunting comments. But you are one of the few that holds no true malice behind your words and makes a point to check in on him to see if these comments bother him.

He greatly appreciates your concerns and semi constant check ins, it makes him feel seen in a way he hasn't yet really experienced--

But he wouldn't call you his little minx if you weren't a little gremlin! Oh no no, you are by far the most mischievous soul he'll ever meet!! Your quick witted quips, your sly smirks and knowing looks as you press each of his buttons (with love, of course!), all of these factors are what got him to coin your title!

Zagreus may roll his eyes and send some playful jabs back, but he loves having a partner that can match his energy!! And he can't help but find it so cute when you snark him in that mirthful tone of yours!

Jewel

A nickname cooed into your hair, a wide smile clear in his loving tone. A nickname that comes bursting from his chest as he sees your darling form.

You shine brighter than any gem embedded in his fathers rings, the light that bounces off of you only adds to the breathtaking form of yours. You, to Zagreus, are one of the most beautiful jewels he had the honor to lay his eyes upon.

To the Prince, you are the most precious thing he has ever found!

Maybe thats the romantic in him, but he truly believes that you are worth every coin under the sun and ever uncut gem beneath the surface. He may doubt how someone as brilliant as you could ever stand next to someone as dull as him, but he is quick to push those worries aside when he sees the way you smile at him.

The man, as soon as he rises from the Styx, will look for you in the halls of the house, and you can bet that if he catches a glimpse of you he will be hurrying to your side and calling for you without a hint of shame in his tone.

He loves his Jewel, and he'll try to voice it ever chance he gets!

Nectar

A nickname whispered into the nape of your neck, batted breaths fanning across your collarbone as he clings to you.

Oh this boy...When he isn't trying to 'escape' the labyrinth that is the Underworld (or..dying), he is in your arms and is making himself right at home in your warm embrace!!

You've gained the nickname from...well...You hold a sweetness to you unlike anything he's ever experienced in the Underworld! He would gladly drown in you if it meant he could experience you again and again.

This nickname isnt as widely known, like Jewel, and nor is it used so sparingly like Minx! The nickname is used for the few quiet moments you two share together, its said with so much tenderness -as if you'd shatter like a glass bottle if Zagreus spoke it in any other way- you melt every time he says it.

These quiet moments tend to be with you two laying down, legs tangled with the others and embracing eachothers warmth and love.

Taglist: @birb-boyo @tomsishere @faroreskiss (Uhh...thats it i think?)

#tales out of orbit #hades supergiant #hades game #hades zagreus #zagreus #hades x reader #hades zagreus x reader #zagreus x reader #reader insert #hades headcanons

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miguelhugger2099 · 9 months ago

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HEEEEYYYYYYYYYYYY

Glad to see ur requests are open. Can I get some kisses with Miggy please? Make 'em steamy, sensual and desperate for me, no smut required, but if you want to add on u can.

Tysm Bee! I love ur writing :)

Oh Boy, Smooching Time!

hello !!! thank u !! :) i love a good simple kissing. personally, i think the tension is sooooo much better than anything. i tried to do this as best as i could !! if u are not happy, as always i can remake it if ur not satisfiedddd ヽ(；▽；)ノ Art: caiabresebun on instagram

Miguel was a touched starved man, that much was clear enough. It showed in the little ways he’d touch you. His fingertips grazing your waist as a silent question to hold you before resting his warm palms on your hips. His arms tightening around you while you rested on top of his chest, one arm reaching down to pull your thigh over his lap. Leaning his body weight on top of you after a long and tiring day of work.

So it’s no surprise when he’s chasing your lips for another kiss while you’re on the couch together. What started as a simple cuddling session, ended up with Miguel crawling closer to you, his lips pressing soft kisses on your collarbone before making his way up.

Your hands curled in his hair, easing out the little tangles in his locks while his fangs nipped at your skin. You tilt your head back while his hands run up your thighs, pushing them apart to make some room for himself. You felt the soft pads where his talons were retracted in and his fingers gripped the plushness of your thighs and hips.

Miguel continues his assault on your neck, his tongue licking up the small bruises and nicks that had formed on your perfect skin. You arch your back, chest pressing up against his and Miguel reaches under your shirt, palm keeping you flush against him–skin on skin contact. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, arms resting on his shoulders while you keep his head close to your neck.

Still, Miguel still finds a way to trail his plump lips up your throat, grinning when he feels your fast pulse. “Te gusta, mi amor?” He hums, and sucks another hickey just under your jawline. Finding yourself impatient, you lean your head down to capture his lips with yours.

Miguel lets out a soft moan, his sigh fanning your cheeks through his nose. His hand raising your shirt further and further up, feeling your spine under his palms and fingers gripping onto your skin with desperation. You follow the way he kisses, wanting and craving to devour all that you are but it feels endless.

It makes your cheeks burn with just how close he is, his body heat radiating off onto you and the soft hums of pleasure while he indulges in you. The soft clicking of teeth and feeling the curl of his lips when he smiles. You catch a glimpse of it when you open your eyes: a weak smile on his face, his eyes still closed and still under your spell before diving back in.

His hand cups the back of your head, entangling his fingers through your hair. Your arms run down his back under the collar of his shirt and you feel the movement of his muscles while he kneads at your body. You separate from the kiss, leaning down to kiss his temple and cheeks. Miguel rests his head on your shoulder, switching positions so you’re now on his lap. He slowly grinds his hips towards you, soft panting and hushed whines of pleading for more.

Miguel can’t help the hunger for more of your love, his hands leading you back down to his mouth, his tongue sliding across your bottom lip. His wet muscle ends up in your mouth to search for your tongue. Meanwhile his hands run down the curves of your body slowly. He takes he time soaking you in, your skin rising with goosebumps, until he lands on your thighs that’s around him. Miguel grips your flesh, ghosting higher to the hem of your shorts and curve of your ass.

Your body burns with desire, the feeling of his tongue swirling with yours— warm puffs of breaths shared in the space between the two of you. Lips moving in sync, taking eager turns of sucking tongues and biting lips to make the other groan and grind. Your fingers find his hair, twirling the curls at the nape of his neck around your index and tugging on it. Miguel moans, pressing you down on his growing erection and bucking his hips up at the same time.

You mewl at the millisecond of relief, tilting your head back for a breath of air. Miguel is relentless, settling on kissing along the side of your face while whispering más, más. Your mind spins when you feel his kisses leave wet marks from the sloppy make out, the sensation cool against your heated skin.

Miguel grabs your chin between his index and thumb, bringing your face back down so he can reach your mouth again in another kiss. You reciprocate eagerly, shivers running through your body while tasting him again. The sounds of shared loving echos softly in the quiet and dim room—soft hums and hushed declarations of love and desire.

Miguel’s fingernails claw at your back from top to bottom. It makes your arch into his chest—which he wanted. He smirks against your lips before biting down on your lip teasingly. His palms feel your arch, groaning with your pressed up against him. He rubs up and down, down, down, to where he cups one cheek of your ass to nudge you closer in his lap.

You nearly stumble, mouth dropping open to spill moans and growing weak. Miguel doesn’t let you go, taking advantage of your blissed state for more and more and more kisses. He loves the way you roll your hips instinctively, the way your breathing becomes labored—feeling it on his lips for the split moment to breathe. He knows what he does to you.

Your hands that had messed with his curls run down his temples, your fingernails gently scratching down his face and neck and over his chest. Miguel shutters, cock throbbing for those very hands to be around him. “Haah..Hnng..” He whines softly, hissing when the teasing boils over. He can’t take it anymore. You know what you do to him.

Miguel switches positions again so you’re lying on your back. A yelp of surprise knocks you out of the moment—your eyes rolling to the back of your head with a sigh of pleasure when he kisses you passionately again. Miguel fumbles with his zipper with one hand while you stumble out of your shorts.

#requests ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚#miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 x reader

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323cutie · 3 months ago

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the way you look at me. | jyh

pairing ୨୧ yunho x reader

word count ୨୧ 650

genre ୨୧ suggestive mostly... making out, beginning of a relationship, sweet talking (almost dirty talking)... i need yunho bad

warnings ୨୧ suggestive/light smut Maybe if you really think about it

author's note ୨୧ guys the yunhoism has been so bad recently. He would fix me. ugh

18+ mdni!!

If there’s one word you’d use to describe Yunho, it’d be comfortable.

Spending the last few weeks getting to know him – deeper, better than before – makes you sure. He’s comfortable. Teasing and flirty and funny and kind. The epitome of charismatic, the kind of guy who draws everyone’s attention once he steps into the room. At first, in the beginning, pressed into the corner of a booth with him while your friends made their way to the dance floor, you thought it’d be awkward. Overwhelming. He was a newer addition to your friend group and you’ve never been any good at the new people thing. Yunho was – is – handsome, and attentive, and witty. You spent the entire night talking to him, ended up pressed thigh-to-thigh in the backseat of a taxi, opened your phone once you were in bed to a goodnight message from a contact you’d never texted one on one before.

It took some more comfortable nights out with your friends, a few inside jokes shared in the groupchat, and a bit of personal growth on your part (you swear your ex didn’t mess you up, but evidently…). But you figure the time doesn’t matter. You’re here now.

Pressed into Yunho’s lap on your couch, hands in his hair. His fingers tracing shapes into your back, your thighs. Memorizing his lips with your own, kissing and kissing and kissing…

It’s only your second date. But the buildup has made it seem like it’s taken so long… and he’s so familiar already. You wanted to play the semi-mysterious, aloof role, but it’s impossible with him. You’re completely transparent, out in the open, clear. Maybe there was never any avoiding it.

Yunho murmurs your name in between kisses and breaths and you hum, unwilling to part. You manage to anyways, catching your breath as he pushes hair away from your face and grabs your chin with his thumb and forefinger to direct your attention at him. (You’re melting.) “How far do you want to take this?” He asks. You can’t really focus on anything but his pink, kiss-swollen lips. “We can wait. I’m ready for whatever you are, honey.”

It’s insane. Completely impossible. You finally meet his eyes and they’re full of hearts and stars, and despite the control he’s established you understand in this moment he’s yours. He’s beautiful, and you want all of it.

“Wanna go all the way,” you say, peeling the straps of your dress off your shoulders. Yunho’s hands land on your semi-bare thighs and he sighs when he catches a glimpse of the pretty white lace set you have on. “Wanna touch you. Feel you.”

He makes a noise in his throat like he’s trying to hold himself back. It’s the last thing you want. So you grab one of his hands and put it on your waist, just under your chest, his thumb brushing against the band of your bralette. “Yunho,” you all but plead.

It seems to do the trick. You don’t think he understands yet that you’d give everything to him if he just asked, but maybe it’s okay to wait on that part. He grips you a little harder and pulls you a little closer still, and you think you sigh when his lips meet yours again; stronger, sweeter, more sure.

He’s confident in you, his hands all over like he’s known you his entire life. You can’t fault him – you feel that way, too. He ghosts one of his hands over your arms, your collarbones, your throat. The other makes itself busy in the space between your legs, initiating a slow grind that is every bit as delicious as it is torturing. Yunho smiles against your mouth when you moan.

“I know, sweet thing,” he coos. His voice is as sweet as honey but his fingers are setting a ruthless pace. “I’ll give it all to you, ‘kay? Now be good for me.”

#YUNHOOOOOO LIKE ITS SO BAD #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez yunho imagine #ateez yunho x reader #ateez yunho smut #jeong yunho x reader #jeong yunho imagine #jeong yunho drabble #jeong yunho timestamp #ateez yunho timestamp #ateez yunho drabble #yunho drabble #yunho x reader #yunho imagine

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babyleostuff · 1 year ago

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Hii I saw your requests are open can I request scoups reaction to reader kissing his tatoo and things just get steamy?? Thank you🩵🩷

warnings | no smut, but is suggestive

You stand in the kitchen doorway wearing nothing but his oversize white shirt, and a pair of panties he bought you for your anniversary, taking in his shirtless form.

Seungcheol's biceps flex under the weight of the pot that he uses for cooking ramen. The same biceps that just fifteen minutes ago pinned you to the bed, ruining you completely in every way possible. His blonde hair is still damp from the shower that he took, and he is wearing nothing but his boxers, which don’t leave much to your imagination.

His ass looks great.

Biting your lip, a rush of heat runs through your body, settling in your core. You feel your panties soaking with your juices, as if he didn’t just fuck you dumb.

The black ink on his back catches your attention. A part of him that only people closest to him are able to see. You love how his fans go crazy about seeing only a glimpse of it, whereas you can admire it in all its glory. The fact that he slept through the process of making it makes you horny almost every time.

“How’s the cooking going?” you ask, coming up behind him. You put your head between his shoulder blades and sneak your arm around his waist, settling your hands on his abs.

“Good, but if you’ll stop distracting me, it’s going to be even better,” he murmurs, as he feels your nails scratching the expanse of his tummy.

You hum and place wet kisses on the naked skin of his back, getting closer to one of your favourite places on his body. He smirks to himself, knowing exactly where you’re going to kiss him next.

He senses your warm puffs of breath over his tattoo, before he feels the tip of your tongue touching the outline of it. You quickly place a kiss right in the middle of it, tracing your fingertips over his other tattoo.

“Baby, I just fucked you like twenty minutes ago, Seungcheol snickers under his breath and turns around to face you. The usual pout on his face is nowhere to be seen, and all that remains is his dominance over you, which you can never resist.

“I know,” you say, placing another kiss on his collarbone. “But you look so hot.”

He cups your jaw with one of his hands, placing the other on your ass, giving it a little squeeze.

“So needy,” he laughs and kisses innocently the corner of your lips. A wine escapes your lips as you press yourself closer to Seungcheol. You put your hand between your bodies, which gently slides down his exposed chest, until it reaches his cock.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, raising one eyebrow, which has always been your weakness. Before you can answer, he dips his head and captures your lips in a rough, passionate kiss filled with nothing but lust and desire. Your teeth clash, and tongues tangle in a mix of your saliva.

“Cheol,” you moan. “The food.”

He quickly turns around to turn off the stove, then grips you roughly under your thighs and sets you down on the kitchen counter.

“Now, where were we?”

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yapperblog · 3 months ago

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Reader never came from just oral. Joost takes on the challenge.

Explicit RPF below

"You know I actually never do this." you motion in between you two. "Having sex a few hours after meeting someone."

You are in bed with a stranger you met at a party. You had a mutual friend, so it did make you let your guard down and feel more at ease with him. Besides the conversation with him went so easy, like you knew each other for ages.

He couldn't take his eyes off of you the entire evening. All of his close friends were at that same party, but he spent the whole time talking to you. Every time he made you smile, it felt like the biggest win. He listened to your every word, drinking in every bit of information you offered, brought you drinks whenever you were thirsty, gave you his jacket when he noticed goosebumps on your skin. The definition of "If he wanted he would".

"Me too." he is on top of you, holding himself on his forearms, his face only a few inches from yours. "We can stop whenever you want."

"No-no, I want this." you say. "Do you?"

"So much." you feel his breath on your lips. "Besides I think my want is pretty obvious." he looks down at his crotch, you follow his gaze to see a bulge in his pants. You want to touch him, he notices your shyness, as he takes your hand and places right over his clothed cock, his jeans getting so uncomfortable.

You move your hand up and down him feeling the length of him. He hides his face in the crook of your neck, moaning, letting you hear it.

He kisses your neck, right under your ear, inhales the scent of your hair, it is all too much for him. He has never felt so entranced by a person. Every thought is spilling out of his mouth into your ear, like he can't control it, he tells you how soft you feel under his hands, how good you smell, how much he wants you. Your back arches while he moves his hands slowly under your top.

He moves further down your body, biting your collarbone, making you gasp.

"Too much?" he asks lifting his head.

"Not enough." you tangle your fingers in his hair pulling him closer.

A smile spreads across his face as he continues to kiss down your chest, hiding his face in the valley of your breasts, still covered by your top. His hand moves from your waist to palm your tit, you hear him exhale into your chest, enjoying the soft feeling under his hands as he continues to squeeze your boob.

You want to feel more of him, you start bunching up his t-shirt on his back, trying to get to the hem and take it off him. He quickly sits up and takes off the t-shirt, you only have a second to catch a glimpse of his hairy chest and a silver cross necklace, before he dives back to you, placing a kiss on your stomach, his hands on your hips, looking up at you, to see if you are okay.

You pull him closer to you for a kiss, before he gets lower. The kiss doesn't last long, when he separates and goes back to moving down your body, but you bring him back into another kiss.

"Am I that good at kissing?" he chuckles. "What's up?" he can sense something is wrong.

"Nothing." you sound unsure, he lifts his eyebrow. "No, it's just it doesn't feel good to me. I can never cum from guys going down on me." you say, looking at your hands, playing with a hem of your top. "There must be something wrong with me. So, don't worry. Let's just skip it."

"What?" he is confused. "It doesn't feel good?"

"I mean, a little, but it never gets me there."

He looks at you trying to process what you said, but then a playful smile starts to spread on his face. "I think those guys just weren't me." his voice cocky, as he leans in closer to you. "Can I please try?" he looks into your eyes, you see a glint in them.

"Joost, it's okay. Really." you place your hands on his shoulders.

"Schat, I feel like I'm going to die if I don't eat you out now." he looks at you with the biggest puppy eyes.

You laugh. "You are so weird." you take a second to look at him. "Okay."

He immediately leans into your neck placing messy open mouthed kisses, earning a surprised moan from you. He kisses your collarbones, his hands sliding under your top, as he looks up at you. "Can I take it off?" you nod and help him get rid off the clothing, leaving you in your bra. "And this?" he says in between kisses down your chest, his hands splayed on your back.

"Yes." you reply. He undoes the clasp of your bra, the straps falling off your shoulders, he throws the bra to the side, revealing you to him. His eyes are trained on your chest, he leans in to place kisses all over your boobs, leaving a few hickeys.

"Joost. Please." you push your chest into his face. He gets the message and wraps his lips around your nipple, playing with it with his tongue, proceeding to suck in, while his other hand grazes the other nipple gently with his nail and proceeds to pull and twist it. You are a whining mess under him already, all of your noises going straight to his dick. But he is determined to take his time with you, get ready for his mouth.

He pulls off your nipple with a pop and looks proud at it swollen and wet. He moves to the other nipple repeating his actions. You feel yourself get more and more wet, lifting your hips into his for friction. He moans against your chest. He likes that you are so needy for him already.

"You are so beautiful." he looks up at you at the same time as you were thinking the exact same thing about him.

He kisses slowly at your stomach, getting close to the waistband of your jeans, as he feels you tense up under him.

"I promise I will make you feel so good." he says sitting up. "Do you trust me?"

"I do" you say the truth.

"Can I take these off?" he places his hands on your hips, ready to take off your jeans.

"Yes." you lift your hips to help him undress you. He lays down on the bed, placing kisses on your inner thighs.

"So soft." he whispers. His kisses get closer and closer to your pussy.

"But please don't get mad when it takes too long." you look at him in between your thighs.

He looks up at you his eyebrows furrowed. "What kind of assholes have you been with?"

"Yeah, I am good at finding those."

"I am going to make you forget all about them." he says and places a kiss over your clothed pussy. He can feel how wet you are already, it almost pulls a moan out of him, but he wants to listen to you, so he stays as quiet as possible.

"Just relax for me, baby." you lay your head back on the pillows, as he takes off your panties and you spread your legs wider for him. He places one of your legs on his shoulder and lays down on the bed completely.

He kisses the soft skin of your inner thigh, slowly getting to your pussy, he kisses your folds, finally licking a long stripe from your hole to your clit. He sucks it into his mouth, pulling a moan from you, it sounds like music to his ears. He focuses on your clit, spreading your folds with two fingers, to get more access.

You were so wet and pent up from how ready he got you before, you have to admit it feels good to have him in between your legs, your back arches, but he keeps a strong hold on your hips. Your heal digging into his back but he likes it, the fact that you are enjoying yourself.

He laps at your cunt, listening to every sound you make, finding out what feels good for you. He moves closer to your hole, fucks you with his tongue, his nose catching on your clit, driving you crazy.

He brings one of his hands to your chest, teasing your nipple, feeling you clench around his tongue. You let out a loud whine and feel him moan into your cunt. You look down at him, his eyes are closed, eyebrows knitted together, so focused on your pleasure. You put your hand over his on your tit, squeezing even harder, that's when you notice his hips moving against the bed, humping it. You can't believe he is getting off on eating you out. His tongue reaches a sensitive part of you and you throw your head back at the feeling growing in your lower stomach.

The sight of him humping the bed, moaning into your pussy, sucking your clit so deliciously, taking his time with you, makes you realise how close to your climax you are getting. This man you just met today is making you feel things your ex boyfriends couldn't even get close to.

He looks up at you, seeing you lost in pleasure, your hand thrown back into the pillows, gripping the sheets, mouth open. He licks two of his fingers, and slowly puts one finger into your pussy, feeling it tighten,

"You are so sensitive, I can't believe no one did this for you before." he says, his lips and chin shiny with your juices, as he sticks another finger in, curling them, to find that spongey spot, that will drive you even closer to the sweet release. He dives back in, licking and sucking your clit.

He curls his fingers just right and with added pressure on your clit, you grip his hair, grinding your hips into his face.

"Joost. Fuck, that's it." you almost scream. "Please don't stop."

Your voice makes him hump the bed even harder, there is a wet spot already from his pre-cum. He brings his hand to your lower stomach, adding pressure softly. You start to see stars, how hard you're are squeezing your eyes shut, the feeling covers your entire body, a hot wave. You grip his hair even tighter, which makes him groan. But he would let you do anything to him in that moment, he is so happy he is making you feel good. Your walls are squeezing his fingers so tight, he can't even imagine how good it will feel when he gets his dick inside of you, worried he won't last long.

"Ohmygodohmygod" you scream, not being able to hold it in anymore. You feel him smile against your cunt, and you release on his fingers, on his mouth. He lets you ride your high, hold you in place with his hand on your lower stomach. He continues to eat you out hungrily, not missing a spot, licks at your folds until you are pushing him away overstimulated.

He stops, leans his head on your thigh, enjoying the view of your rising chest, a shiny layer of sweat covering you.

"So, how was it?" he asks you, he sounds so cocky, proud of himself.

"Insane. That was insane." you are out of breath, your brain feels like a mush.

He leaves one last kiss on your pussy, a whine escaping you, when he pushes himself on top of you again, caging you in, holding himself up on his forearms. There are tears on your face, which he kisses away. Your vision finally comes back to you, you look at him, he looks so good, his hair is messy, cheeks a little red, chin still wet with your slick, his necklace dangling in your face. You hook your finger around it and bring him closer, colliding your lips together. You taste yourself on his tongue, a moan slipping out of you, which makes him push his hips into you. You feel him so hard and heavy.

"Do you want me on top?" you ask him.

"Oh yes." he wraps your hands around his shoulders, snaking one hand around your lower back and easily flips you around. You squeal at his fast action, now he is sitting against the bed frame, with you on top.

You sit back, his dick wet with pre-cum in between you. You move your hand to stroke him, his mouth opens, letting out a soft groan.

"You have such a pretty dick." you stroke him slowly, feeling the velvety skin under your palm. Your other hand moves to his neck, moving towards his broad shoulder, just feeling him. You slide your hand down further onto his chest, his hair a little darker there than on his head. You stop to feel his wild heartbeat, moving even lower to his soft stomach. You think he is the hottest man you've ever seen. He is watching your every move, enjoying your hands on him. The way you look at him, your eyes filled with lust, strokes his ego. He is glad you want him as much as he wants you.

You start to feel him twitch under your hand, but he doesn't rush you like your previous partners would do. You take out a condom from the pack, open the packaging with your teeth and roll the condom onto him slowly. You press your lips against his, his hand on the back of your head, holding your hair. You lean your forehead against his, breathing the same air, you look down, when you start to lift your hips, swiping his dick between your folds. He is thicker than your previous partners, you know the stretch will be there, even after you already came.

You start to lower yourself slowly, both of you letting out a groan, when he first enters you. He is holding your hips, helping you take him in.

"That's it. You are taking me so well." his voice is quiet, eyes fixed between your bodies, watching you lower yourself on him. You feel so good and tight around him even through the rubber.

Soft little gasps leave your mouth, as you start to move on him. You hold him by the shoulders and feel a strong hold of his hands on his hips, setting the slow pace.

You start bouncing faster, painful stretch finally turning into pleasure. You pinch your nipple and he feels you clench around him. He is holding himself from cumming too fast, wants this to last, wants to see you on top of him for a little while longer. He hopes this is not the last time he gets to see you like this.

He moves his hand under your ass helping you set the pace and buries his face into your chest, feeling it move against him, bringing you to him as close as possible. He blindly kisses every bit of skin he can get his mouth on, moaning loudly.

"I am so close." he pushes his hand between you to draw fast circles on your clit.

"Me too." you throw your head back, switching between bouncing and moving your hips in circles.

He starts to thrust up, holding your hips and touching your clit at the same time. He starts to feel your pulse on his dick.

"You feel so good around me." he says in between thrusts. "Fuck. Can I please cum? Are you close?" he says looking up at you.

"I am almost there. Cum. Cum for me." you say and feel him twitch under you, he releases into the condom with a loud groan, loosing the rhythm of his thrusts. He presses you close to him, hits so unbelievably deep, it triggers your climax, you start to feel lightheaded with how strong you cum.

You are both trying to catch your breath, not ready to separate from each other. You scratch his head, still pressed into your chest, while he is moving his hands soothingly on your back.

"That was the best sex I ever had." you admit to him quietly.

He looks up at you. "Same." he brings you into a kiss with a hand on the back of your head. It is slow now, you still feel him inside of you. He tightens his grip on your hair, making you gasp into his mouth, letting him put his tongue in. You are both trying to make this last longer and longer, not sure what happens after.

He pulls back, you start to get up, hissing at the feeling.

He throws away the condom, and lays back, pulling you into his chest. You wrap your hands around him, glad he didn't leave as soon as he was finished. He puts the blanket around you hoping it will also make you stay.

"Can I see tomorrow?" he asks. He wants to get to know you even better, to take you on a proper date, wants to show you his music, introduce you to all his friends.

You look up at him. "I would love that."

"Can you also stay the night with me?" he asks, unsure. "Or, I can walk you home, if you want." his mind starts racing, he wants you to have a choice, but also wants you to stay so bad.

"I can stay." you wrap your hands tighter around him. He lets out a breath he was holding and brings you closer to his chest. You are in his arms, but he already can't wait to see you tomorrow, when he wakes up.

#joost klein #joost klein rpf #joost klein x reader #joost klein smut #yapperwrites

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pandapetals · 3 months ago

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Like A Dream

logan howlett x fem!reader - fluff, romantic, Logan POV, cuteness, no y/n used, light reader description, established relationship

Logan comes back to his room to find you sleeping in his bed.

read on Ao3

Logan slipped into his room, the faint light of dawn just beginning to filter through the window, casting a soft glow on the bed. His muscles ached from the mission, but the sight that greeted him sent a jolt of something else through his tired body.

You were there, curled up in his covers, just like you had been before. Yet this time, the summer heat had made its presence known. The air felt heavy, even the hum of the A/C working overtime couldn’t break the lingering warmth.

A soft creak echoed through the quiet room as he shut the door behind him, his eyes immediately drawn to your bare leg peeking out from beneath the rumpled sheets. One limb tangled in the blankets, the other sprawled freely across the bed. A slow breath escaped him.

As he peeled off his sweat-soaked clothes, his gaze traveled over you, lingering on the sliver of skin revealed by the tank top that had slipped off your shoulder. The thin straps clung weakly to your collarbone, the fabric riding up just enough to expose the curve of your waist.

His throat tightened as his eyes continued downward. The lacy fabric of your underwear barely clung to your hips, framing the soft curves that made his pulse quicken. The sheets, half-tossed aside, did little to hide the way your body shifted with every slow breath.

Logan swallowed hard, the warmth of the room now somehow more oppressive. His body tensed, resisting the urge to reach out, his hand hovering inches from your skin before retreating. Instead, he slipped into bed beside you, careful not to disturb the delicate lines of your sleep, though every inch of him felt pulled toward you.

Logan settled beside you, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. He kept his movements slow, almost too careful, trying not to disturb the peace of your sleep. Yet, even the faintest shift of the bed seemed to ripple between you both.

His eyes lingered on your profile, the soft rise and fall of your chest, your breath steady, untouched by the heat that still clung to the room. One of the thin straps of your tank top had slipped even further down your arm, and a strand of hair rested gently against your cheek, half-hidden by the pillow.

His hand hovered again, the urge to touch almost magnetic. He clenched his fist briefly, fingers pressing into the rough fabric of the sheets as if grounding himself.

Not now, he told himself, not like this.

But you stirred.

Just the faintest movement, the flutter of your lashes, the way your body stretched and curled again, the kind of stretch that pulled the fabric of your top even tighter against you, revealing a glimpse of bare skin at your waist.

Logan’s jaw tensed as he exhaled slowly. He was exhausted—his body, his mind—but there was something about this moment, about you, that kept him tethered, awake.

Another minute passed, maybe more. Then, without opening your eyes, you shifted again, rolling slightly toward him. Your arm moved, brushing against his bare chest. It was a small gesture, barely noticeable, but to Logan, it might as well have been a bolt of electricity. His heart thudded harder in his chest.

You murmured something in your sleep, something soft and unintelligible, your lips parting as your brow furrowed in a fleeting dream. Logan's eyes traced every line of your face, his breath now shallow. He had been with you like this before, waking up beside you, the comfort of your presence an unspoken constant in his life. But this moment, this heat, this closeness—there was something new in the air, something unspoken yet undeniable.

Before he could catch himself, his hand drifted, fingers lightly grazing your exposed shoulder, the skin warm beneath his touch. The contact was barely there, just enough to make him feel the softness of you, the reality that you were here, with him, while the rest of the world blurred into the background.

You stirred again, this time more fully. Your eyes fluttered open, squinting against the faint morning light. For a brief moment, confusion clouded your expression, as if you were still caught between the haze of sleep and waking. But when your gaze met Logan’s, everything seemed to snap into focus.

“Logan?” Your voice was groggy, still thick with sleep, but laced with something else—surprise, maybe, or warmth. Your hand moved instinctively, resting on his arm as if to confirm he was really there.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he whispered, his voice low, rough from both exhaustion and the pull of something deeper.

You blinked a few times, still adjusting to the sight of him. “What time is it?”

“Too early,” he replied with a half-smirk, though his eyes hadn’t left yours.

You shifted closer, your leg brushing against his under the covers, and the simple touch sent a spark racing up his spine. It was a casual intimacy, the kind that should’ve felt easy after all the time you’d spent together. But at this moment, it felt charged, like every small movement carried a weight neither of you could fully name.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep here,” you murmured, though there was no apology in your tone, just a quiet acknowledgment. “I just missed you.”

Logan’s gaze flickered down to the curve of your lips before he answered. “Didn’t mind. I like finding you here.”

The silence that followed was thick, not uncomfortable but filled with something unsaid. His hand, still resting on your shoulder, slid down to your upper arm, the touch now more deliberate, more present. You didn’t pull away. If anything, you seemed to lean into it, your body relaxing further into his as if drawn by gravity itself.

The hum of the A/C broke through the quiet again, the odd noises filling the room, but neither of you seemed to notice this time. All that mattered was the steady beat of your breaths, now almost in sync, and the slow realization that something between you had shifted, subtly but irreversibly.

You were awake now, fully, your eyes locked onto him, searching, waiting. There was a question in your gaze, one that hadn’t been asked yet but hovered between you like a fragile thread.

Logan’s thumb brushed your arm, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You should probably put that strap back up,” he said, his smirk returning, but there was a heat in his eyes that betrayed the teasing tone.

You let out a soft laugh, low and warm, though you made no move to fix your top. Instead, you shifted even closer, your body now pressed against his in a way that left no room for pretense.

“Maybe I don’t want to,” you whispered back, your breath brushing his lips, daring him to close the distance.

Logan’s heart thudded against his ribcage, the heat between you now undeniable, the room feeling smaller, the air thicker. His fingers drifted to the side of your face, gently tucking that errant strand of hair behind your ear. His thumb lingered, tracing the line of your jaw as he leaned in, every inch of him attuned to you.

This time, he didn’t hold back.

#fluff #wolverine #x men wolverine #james logan howlett #logan howlett x you #logan howlett #x men logan #cute #sleeping #dream #logan x reader #james howlett #wolverine x you #marvel #mcu #reader insert #reader fic

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bimrwolf · 18 days ago

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The Christmas Arrangement (Part 3)

steve harrington x fem!reader words: 10,996 warnings: 18+ minors dni :P summary: Steve Harrington thought asking his stubborn intern to play his girlfriend for the holidays would be simple. But "pretend" starts to get a little complicated when moments feel a little too real. a/n: sigh i really love pathetic steve. you only get a tiny glimpse but sigh... also full transparency... conflict with these two will be so hard to write. Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 (coming soon)

You absentmindedly played with hair on Steve’s chest. Neither one of you were naked, you had snuck one of his old Hawkins High t-shirts on while he was in the bathroom brushing his teeth. It still managed to expose your underwear and you laughed when he had to run a hand over his face.

He had settled on only wearing shorts and now you could really cherish his bare chest, running a finger over a few scars that looked strangely similar to his friend Eddie.

To you, being like this… so domestic, made you wound up even more. “What you said today. Was it all true?” You asked softly.

Your cheeks warmed up at his chuckle. “Which part?”

You smirked, laying your chin on his chest so you could look at him. “That you had a giant crush on me when I started working for you.”

He rolled his eyes. “We’re not in middle school. It wasn’t a crush.”

“Did you want me to go on a date with you?” You shot back, an eyebrow raised.

He frowned. “I didn’t just want to sleep with you if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“That’s not what I was asking. I’m asking if you wanted to ever ask me to go to dinner with you.” You poked him playfully.

He looked away, blushing, already giving you the answer you wanted. “‘Course I did,” he mumbled.

You grinned, kissing his stomach. “Then you had a crush on me. And according to what you said to your friends, it was huge.”

“I thought us having sex meant you would be less annoying.” He didn’t mean it because he was smiling. You took it as a term of endearment.

You bit his shoulder.

“Ow! What was that for?” He rubbed the spot your teeth grazed his skin.

“Because you won’t admit you had a crush on me.” You pretended to pout. “Being mean has consequences, Mr. Harrington.”

He no longer tried to attempt to hate the name. You had deemed it his kryptonite, making his face red. His smug smile made you wonder how he could be so shy yet so effortlessly cocky. “I did not have a crush on you. I was only hyper-aware of everything you did.”

“Hyper-aware?” you repeated with a grin, leaning closer. “So you were staring at me in the skirt.”

Steve groaned again, this time with real defeat. “Okay, fine. Yes. I noticed the skirt. Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” you said smugly, planting a kiss on his jaw. “You’re lucky I think it’s cute, otherwise this would be a serious HR violation.”

He snorted, tugging you closer so your body was flush against his. “Yeah, because HR would really love hearing about this part.”

“It’s so cute to see you flustered,” you teased, trailing your fingers over his collarbone.

He scoffed, his lips twitching as if he was fighting a smile. “Flustered? You think this is me flustered?”

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head. “Absolutely. Look at you—you’re blushing.”

Steve sat up slightly, flipping you onto your back in one smooth motion. He hovered over you, his face just inches from yours. “Blushing, huh?” His voice was low, teasing. “You sure it’s not you who’s flustered now?”

You bit your lip, refusing to back down. “Not even a little. You, on the other hand…”

His gaze flicked to your mouth, a wicked smirk spreading across his face. “Guess I’ll just have to prove you wrong.”

Before you could retort, his lips found yours, cutting off whatever sarcastic remark was on the tip of your tongue. You sighed against his mouth, your arms sliding around his neck.

“Still think I’m the flustered one?” he murmured between kisses, his hand slipping beneath the hem of his t-shirt you were wearing.

“Mmm,” you answered stubbornly.

Steve’s lips moved to your jaw, the slow press of his mouth sending shivers down your spine. He murmured, “Okay… I had a huge, massive, impossible-to-ignore crush on you. Are you satisfied?”

The weight of his admission settled over you, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. You thought you’d been joking about the crush, but the way he looked at you now—like he was letting you in on some carefully guarded secret—made your chest ache.

You lifted his face from your neck, blinking. “You don’t have to say that just to make me feel good,” you said softly, half-teasing, half-serious.

Steve shook his head, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “I’m not saying it for you,” he admitted. “I’m saying it because it’s true. I mean, you were impossible to ignore.” He smirked. “I swear you lived to make my life harder.”

You laughed, though your throat felt tight. “You made it easy. You were such an ass sometimes.”

“I was not,” he protested. “I was the perfect picture of professionalism.”

You narrowed your eyes, putting your hands on his chest. “You once made me rewrite a client report three times because I ‘missed the vibe.’”

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “I didn’t know how else to keep you in my office longer. Sue me.”

His words made your stomach flip, warmth spreading across your chest. You tried to brush it off, but the truth of it sat heavy in your thoughts. How many of those little moments—the extra meetings, the lingering conversations—had been him trying to be close to you? And how many had you brushed off as just Steve being Steve?

Your hand traced absent patterns over his chest, your voice softer now. “You really liked me back then?”

Steve’s gaze softened, the teasing falling away. “Yeah,” he admitted quietly. “I liked you a lot. Still do.”

The sincerity in his voice made your breath catch. You could feel the weight of his words settle in the air, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. His lips ghosted your nose before flopping on his back.

His arm draped over your stomach and you thought you could stay like this forever. “What will happen when we get back?”

You could feel his muscles tense. His arm tightened ever so slightly around your stomach, but the comfortable rhythm of his breathing faltered. He stared at the ceiling, his jaw working as if he was chewing on the words he didn’t want to say.

“I don’t know,” he said finally, his voice low, almost reluctant.

You turned your head to look at him, your fingers pausing their absent tracing over his chest. “What do you mean you don’t know? We can’t just… pretend this didn’t happen, Steve.”

He let out a sharp breath, his hand coming up to rub his face. “I’m not saying we pretend, alright? I just—I don’t know how to handle this back at work. Everything’s different there. It’s not as simple as just… being like this.”

Your brow furrowed, a flicker of frustration rising in your chest. “So what? It’s simple when we’re here, but it’s not when we go back? That doesn’t make sense.”

“It’s not the same,” he said, sitting up slightly, his arm pulling away from your stomach. His tone was still calm, but there was an edge to it, like he was trying to hold something back.

“Then explain it to me,” you urged, leaning up on your elbow. “Because right now, it just feels like you’re dodging the question.”

Steve scrubbed a hand over his face, sighing heavily. “I’m not dodging it. I just—there’s a lot you don’t understand, alright?”

Your stomach twisted at his words. “What’s there to understand, Steve? Either this… whatever this is, matters, or it doesn’t.”

“It does matter,” he snapped, his voice sharp but not loud. His eyes softened almost immediately, and he sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It matters. You matter. That’s the problem.”

You blinked, the air in the room feeling heavier now. “How is that a problem?”

He looked at you then, his hazel eyes searching yours, and for a moment, you thought he might actually say it—whatever it was that was eating at him. But then he shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “It just is.”

His words landed like a stone in your chest, and you sank back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. “Great. That clears it up,” you muttered, your voice laced with bitterness.

“Don’t do that,” he said, his tone softening.

“Do what?” you shot back, not looking at him.

“That thing where you get upset and shut me out,” he said, his hand hesitating near your arm before pulling back. “I’m trying here.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Could’ve fooled me.”

The room fell into an uneasy silence, the warmth from earlier replaced with a tension that felt impossible to navigate.

“Goodnight, Steve,” you said finally, turning onto your side and pulling the blanket over yourself.

He didn’t respond right away, but you heard the soft rustle of him lying back down beside you. His arm didn’t reach for you this time, and the absence of his touch made your chest ache.

“Goodnight,” he murmured eventually, his voice almost too quiet to hear.

***

You woke to the faint light of morning filtering through the curtains, the early stillness of the house pressing in on you. The bed felt cold beside you, and when you reached out, your fingers met only empty sheets. Steve’s side was unmade, his pillow indented but no longer warm.

A flicker of irritation sparked in your chest, though you weren’t sure if it was directed at him or the lingering heaviness from the night before. Pushing the blanket off, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and rubbed at your face. You weren’t going to let his mood dictate yours today.

With more determination than usual, you rifled through your suitcase, pulling out clothes for the day. You usually found some excuse to slip into the bathroom to dress—privacy, politeness, whatever—but this time, you stayed right where you were. It wasn’t like Steve hadn’t seen you before, and a small, rebellious part of you wanted to prove a point.

You stripped out of the oversized Hawkins High t-shirt, tossing it onto the bed before pulling on a clean bra. The cool air against your skin sent a shiver down your spine, but you ignored it as you grabbed your jeans.

That’s when the sound of the front door opening reached your ears, followed by the faint scuff of shoes being kicked off and the creak of the stairs. You didn’t bother rushing to finish dressing. Let him walk in. Let him see. You didn’t care.

The door pushed open just as you were tugging your shirt over your head, the hem catching briefly as you adjusted it into place. Steve stood in the doorway, his hair damp with sweat and his breathing still a little uneven from his run. His shirt clung to him, outlining the curve of his shoulders and the lean muscle of his chest.

For a moment, his eyes flicked over you, lingering just a second too long before he caught himself and looked away, clearing his throat. “Morning.” His voice was neutral, careful, as if he was testing the air between you.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you grabbed your socks from the suitcase and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling them on with deliberate slowness. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of an acknowledgment, not when the weight of last night still sat heavily in your chest.

Steve hesitated in the doorway, his hand braced on the frame like he was debating whether to step inside or turn back. Finally, he muttered, “I’ll shower,” and disappeared into his bathroom, leaving the door ajar behind him.

You stared at the open doorway for a moment, frustration bubbling beneath your skin. This thing between you—it was confusing and messy, and you weren’t sure how much more of his silence you could take.

But for now, you tucked it all away, focusing on tying your shoes with sharp, decisive motions. If he wasn’t going to talk, then neither were you.

Your ears pricked when you heard his clothes fall to the bathroom floor. The shower turned on. You pursed your lips. He was playing the same game you were. Acting like everything was normal but in reality, you were in a silent argument.

You huffed, storming inside the bathroom. You could see him look taken aback out the corner of your eye. You made a point to dramatically get your toothbrush ready. You stared at him in the mirror, thankful for his glass doors.

Steve rolled his eyes, turning so you only had a view of his backside. Perfectly good view of his stupidly perfect butt. Touché.

You left the bathroom, sitting at the edge of the bed, arms crossed.

The tension in the room was thick as Steve stepped out of the bathroom a few minutes later, water dripping from his hair and trailing down his chest. A towel hung low around his waist, and he made a point of not looking at you as he crossed to the dresser by the window.

You stayed planted on the edge of the bed, arms crossed, your frustration simmering just beneath the surface. If he wanted to pretend nothing was wrong, fine. Two could play that game.

“You always take this long to shower?” you asked, your tone deliberately sharp.

Steve didn’t pause as he pulled open a drawer, rummaging through it with a forced casualness. “Didn’t know there was a time limit. You keeping track now?”

Your lips pressed into a thin line. “Just seems like you’ve been avoiding me since last night.”

He stilled for a fraction of a second before shaking his head and grabbing a pair of sweatpants. “Not everything’s about you, you know,” he said, stepping into the pants and letting the towel fall to the floor. “You also have been avoiding me.”

“Right,” you muttered under your breath, your gaze flicking away as he turned to face you, his chest still bare.

Steve leaned against the dresser, his damp hair curling slightly at the edges. He exuded the kind of casual ease that drove you up the wall. His hazel eyes flicked to where you sat on the edge of the bed, arms crossed, radiating irritation. He let out a dramatic sigh, dragging a hand through his hair.

“So, we’re still doing this?” he asked, his tone light but carrying that telltale edge of exasperation.

Your jaw tightened. “Doing what? Acting like nothing happened last night?”

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Pretty sure nothing did happen.”

The words hit harder than you wanted them to. “Oh, so now it’s nothing? Good to know where we stand, Steve.”

He froze mid-motion, his grip tightening on the shirt he’d grabbed. “That’s not what I meant,” he muttered, the defensive tone in his voice only making your chest ache more.

“Could’ve fooled me,” you snapped, standing abruptly. The bed creaked as you moved, but you didn’t care. “You’ve been doing a damn good job of avoiding anything that remotely resembles an answer.”

Steve tugged the shirt over his head, the motion rough, like he was trying to shove away the conversation along with it. “Maybe because I don’t have one,” he said, his voice clipped.

“You always have something to say, Steve,” you shot back, crossing your arms tighter. “So why not now? Not when it matters.”

His hands fell to his hips, and he stared at you, the tension radiating off him palpable. For a moment, the air between you crackled with frustration. Then he exhaled, his shoulders sinking slightly as the fight bled out of him.

“I don’t want to fight with you,” he admitted, his tone quieter now, almost defeated.

The sudden shift in his demeanor threw you off, softening the edges of your frustration. You wanted to hold onto your irritation, but seeing him like this—so unsure—made it harder.

“I’m not trying to fight,” you said, your voice losing some of its sharpness. You sighed. “I was upset that you weren’t here when I woke up. I was worried you ran so you wouldn’t have to talk to me.”

Steve looked at you, his gaze softer but still guarded. “I’m sorry. I just…” He sighed, running a hand over his face. “It’s been a while since I’ve done this. And I’m sorry I don’t have an answer to your question from last night. Back at work… everything is complicated and I don’t want you to lose respect or people think that you’re only around for my pleasure. ”

“Steve,” you began, but he interrupted, stepping closer.

“You’re so smart and honestly, you’ve saved my ass with clients more times than I can count,” he said, a faint, weary smile tugging at his lips. “You know that?”

Your lips parted. You blinked at him. You wanted to kiss him but you stopped yourself. You didn’t want to overwhelm him with what you two were, and kissing him so casually seemed like something a couple would do.

Steve’s lips parted like he wanted to say something else, but whatever words he had were swallowed by hesitation. Instead, he reached for his wallet on the dresser, pulling out a sleek black credit card and holding it out to you.

You blinked, the gesture throwing you for a loop. “What’s this for?”

“For the dress,” he said simply, his tone matter-of-fact. “Nancy’s picking you up soon, right? You’re going shopping for the gala. Just get whatever you want.”

You hesitated, looking at the card in his hand. “You think this makes everything okay?” you asked, your voice quieter now, almost testing.

He met your gaze, his eyes earnest. “No. It doesn’t. But I want to do it anyway. Not to fix things—just because.”

You stared at him, searching his face for any trace of insincerity, but there was none. Finally, you reached out and took the card, sliding it into your pocket. “Fine,” you said. “But this doesn’t mean I’m not still upset with you.”

Steve’s lips twitched into a small smirk, a hint of his usual bravado returning. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.” He reached his hand out, brushing your hair back.

You leaned into his touch briefly. “This is really turning out to be the plot of Pretty Woman, you know”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You’re not a hooker.”

“I mean… you are paying me and you did have sex with me–”

“Will you go before I find a way to make you be quiet?” Steve’s deadpan face didn’t quite match the glimmer in his eyes.

You leaned in closer. “Mr. Harrington, you’re proving my point.” You grinned suggestively.

“I meant that if you don’t go I might smother you with a pillow.” He smiled at you, setting his hand on your waist. “I’ll see you there. I have to help my mom with some last minute things for tomorrow.” He gave you a small squeeze before letting go.

You nodded, already feeling flustered. As you headed for the door, you paused in the doorway, glancing back over your shoulder. “Oh, and Steve?”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against the dresser.

“I noticed you watching earlier,” you said with a smirk, the edge of your irritation softening into something teasing.

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “Not my fault you decided to put on a show.”

“Careful, Mr. Harrington,” you called as you descended the stairs. “Keep this up, and I might have to charge you extra.”

His voice followed you, warm and teasing. “Worth every penny.”

As you stepped outside to meet Nancy, you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips.

***

Stepping into the shop felt like walking into a scene from a holiday movie. Twinkling fairy lights were strung along the racks of dresses, their warm glow reflecting off sequins and satin. A garland of pine and red ribbon framed the entrance, and the faint scent of cinnamon and cedar hung in the air.

The floor was covered in a plush cream carpet that muffled your footsteps, and soft Christmas music played in the background, the gentle hum of Bing Crosby’s voice blending with the quiet rustle of fabric.

A small tree decorated with miniature bows and glittering ornaments stood in one corner, and near the counter, a tray of cookies and a pot of hot cocoa invited customers to linger.

The dresses were arranged in neat, color-coded rows, each one seeming more glamorous than the last. Full-length mirrors in silver frames lined the walls, reflecting the soft glow of the lights and making the shop feel larger, almost magical. It was festive and cozy, but not overdone—a perfect balance that made you feel like something special was waiting just for you.

Your arm played as a rack, holding the few dresses that caught your eye.

Nancy handed you another dress from the rack. “This one might work. It’s classic, but not boring.”

You held up the dark green gown she’d chosen, the silk fabric catching the light. It was beautiful, but your mind was too preoccupied to really focus. You hummed noncommittally, hanging it over your arm and pretending to browse.

Nancy noticed. “Alright, what’s up?” she asked, leaning against the rack. “You’ve been quiet.”

You hesitated, fingers skimming a sequined dress you weren’t really looking at. “Steve and I… had a little disagreement,” you admitted.

Nancy raised an eyebrow, encouraging you to continue.

“I brought up what happens when we get back to work,” you said, your voice low. “About us. You know, making it official—or at least not hiding it.”

Her brow furrowed slightly, but she stayed silent, letting you get it out. You wondered if she thought it was suspicious that you had never talked about it before.

“He got weird about it,” you continued, sighing. “Dodged the question, acted like it was too complicated. I don’t know. I just… I don’t get it. Things feel so easy when we’re here. Why does it have to change just because we’re not at his house anymore?”

Nancy’s lips pressed together thoughtfully as she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Steve has a history of… being cautious,” she said carefully.

“Cautious?” You turned to her, frowning.

“Yeah. When it comes to relationships, I mean,” she clarified. “It’s not that he doesn’t care—it’s the opposite. He cares too much, and it messes with his head. I think he’s scared of screwing it up. Again.”

Your chest tightened at her words. “Again?”

Nancy hesitated, her eyes flickering away for a moment. “The last time he got serious with someone… it didn’t end well. He cared more than she did, and she ended up breaking his heart. He tried to date after but none of them stuck. It was worse after his dad died.”

“Someone broke his heart?” It was a little unbelievable to you. The weight of her words settled between you, heavy and unspoken. But then it clicked. The look in her eyes, the careful way she was speaking—it was her. Nancy.

You felt your stomach twist as the realization sank in. She didn’t need to say it outright; the pieces were all there.

“Oh,” you said softly, the single word carrying far more weight than you intended.

Nancy glanced at you, her expression apologetic. “It was a long time ago,” she said quietly. “And I know I hurt him, but I’ve seen how he is with you. It’s different. He’s different.”

You tried to school your expression, but it was hard to process everything all at once. Steve’s reluctance to make things official suddenly felt sharper, clearer, like a wound that hadn’t fully healed.

“I didn’t mean to bring it up to make you feel bad,” Nancy said, reaching out to squeeze your arm gently. “I just thought… maybe it helps to know why he’s being so difficult.”

You nodded slowly, your thoughts tangled. Steve’s hesitation made more sense now, but it didn’t make the ache in your chest any less sharp. You didn’t want to be the person who had to convince him you were worth the risk.

Nancy gave you a small smile. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re good for him. He needs someone who challenges him, keeps him grounded. You do that.”

You managed a faint smile in return. “Thanks, Nancy.”

As she turned back to the rack, your fingers brushed over the other dresses. A comfortable silence filled the space between you two.

Nancy held up a sleek black gown against herself, giving it a critical once-over in the mirror. “Too simple?” she asked, tilting her head.

You laughed, shaking your head. “You could wear a garbage bag, and it would still look elegant. But no, that one’s perfect.”

Nancy smiled, setting the dress aside. “Thanks. I’m so sad that you’re going back to Chicago in a few days.”

You smiled, nodding in agreement. “Who are you going to see in Indianapolis tomorrow?”

Nancy was looking at another similar dress she had picked up but in red. She glanced at you. “My brother, Mike and his fiancée, Jane. He’s going through law school now so he doesn’t come around a lot. He’s like a freaky genius when he applies himself.”

“How did they meet?” You asked curiously.

Nancy seemed to ignore your gaze purposefully, her jaw tightening. “It’s kind of a long story. But Jonathan’s step-dad and mom adopted Jane. I don’t know. They both weirdly understand one another like no one else.”

“And you and Jonathan?” you asked, picking through the rack beside her, “how did you two become a thing?”

Nancy’s smile softened as she leaned against the edge of the display rack, her eyes distant like she was replaying a memory. “I kind of got with him right after me and Steve broke up,” she admitted. “Then he and his family moved off to California to get away from Hawkins for a bit and I think it put a strain on our relationship. We broke up when I left for college. It was mutual at first, but… I think I was scared, you know? Scared to be tied down, scared to figure out who I was without him.”

You nodded, leaning against the rack with her. “Makes sense. So, what changed?”

She let out a quiet laugh, blushing. “One day, I was in my dorm, and there was this knock on the door. I wasn’t expecting anyone, so I thought it was my roommate’s friend or something. But when I opened the door… there he was. Jonathan.”

Your eyes widened. “He just showed up?”

Nancy nodded, her voice softening. “Yeah. We hadn’t seen each other in months, and I could tell he’d been working himself up to it. He looked… I don’t know, lost, I guess. And then he just started talking. Saying how much he missed me, how stupid it was that we broke up. He told me he wanted to be in my life forever, even if it scared him, even if it wasn’t easy.”

Your chest tightened at her words, the rawness of the moment she described stirring something deep inside you.

“What did you do?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

“I cried,” Nancy admitted, laughing softly. “And then I told him I missed him too. I’d been trying to convince myself I was fine without him, but the truth was, I wasn’t. I didn’t want to be.”

You smiled, imagining the scene. “That’s… kind of perfect, actually.”

Nancy shrugged, her eyes glinting with warmth. “It wasn’t perfect, but it was real. And I think that’s why it worked. We had to figure out how to be together again, but we both wanted it enough to make it happen.”

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, you couldn’t help but wonder if that kind of honesty was possible for you and Steve. If either of you could step out of your own fears long enough to admit what you wanted.

Nancy reached for another dress, her voice lighter now. “Anyway, that’s my grand love story. What about this one?” She handed you a dress.

The dress seemed to jump out at you the moment your fingers brushed over the silky black fabric. Its simplicity was striking: the body was sleek and fitted, the hem pooling slightly like liquid midnight, and at the top, a crisp white bow perched elegantly just above the sweetheart neckline. It was classic, timeless, yet somehow playful—the kind of dress you couldn’t help but imagine twirling in.

You held it up to yourself in the mirror. Nancy caught the movement and glanced over, her eyes widening. “Oh, wow. You have to try it on.”

“It’s a little… dramatic, don’t you think?” you said, though the dress had already captured your heart.

Nancy shook her head emphatically. “Nope. It’s perfect. Go.” She gestured toward the fitting rooms, grinning.

You hesitated for only a second before nodding and heading for the fitting room. Once inside, you slipped into the dress, the fabric cool and smooth against your skin. It fit like a dream, hugging your curves in all the right places while the bow added a whimsical touch that somehow didn’t feel out of place. You turned in the mirror, the long line of the dress elongating your frame and making you feel… well, like you’d stepped out of a classic movie.

When you stepped out of the fitting room, Nancy promptly choked.“Oh my god,” she managed after a moment, fanning herself dramatically. “No wonder Steve can’t stop staring at you.”

Your cheeks flushed instantly. “What? He doesn’t stare.” You knew he stared but you didn’t think he did when you weren’t looking.

Nancy raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh, please. He always looks like he’s completely captivated. And honestly? I get it. You look amazing.”

You turned back to the mirror, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck. The dress really was something special, and hearing Nancy’s words only made you feel that much more self-conscious.

Nancy stepped up beside you, leaning against the mirror. “So,” she said casually, “when did it happen?”

“When did what happen?” you asked, still studying your reflection.

“You know. When did you start liking him?” Nancy’s tone was light, but there was a curiosity in her eyes that made you pause.

You blinked, opening your mouth to answer but finding that no words came. “I… don’t know,” you admitted finally. “I don’t think there was a specific moment. It just… happened, I guess.”

Nancy smiled knowingly,

“Is that bad?” you asked, heat rushing to your face. You glanced at your reflection in the mirror, guilt tugging at your chest. Steve had been so open—admitting that he knew exactly when he started liking you, no hesitation. But you? You didn’t have a clue.

Nancy’s smile softened, her head tilting slightly as she watched you. “Of course not,” she said gently. “It’s not like there’s a rulebook for this kind of thing. Sometimes it’s not about one big moment. Sometimes it’s… gradual. Sneaky, even.”

You turned back to her, still fiddling with the hem of the dress. “But he remembered. He told me he started liking me the day I walked into his office.”

Nancy leaned against the mirror, arms crossed, her gaze steady. “Steve’s always been the type to overthink things like that. I mean, don’t get me wrong—when he falls, he falls hard. But not knowing exactly when doesn’t mean your feelings are any less real.”

You let her words sink in, chewing on the inside of your cheek. It was true—you’d never had a lightbulb moment, never felt like you’d been hit by a proverbial truck. It had just… crept up on you. Somewhere between the banter, the stolen glances, and the way his voice softened when he spoke your name.

“It just feels unfair,” you murmured, more to yourself than to Nancy. “He’s so sure. And I—”

Nancy placed a hand on your arm, cutting you off gently. “Hey, stop beating yourself up. If anything, it makes sense. You were probably too busy pretending you didn’t like him to notice when you actually started to.”

You laughed softly despite yourself, the tension easing just a little. “Maybe you’re right,” you admitted, glancing back at the mirror.

“Of course I’m right,” Nancy said, a sly grin spreading across her face. “Now, are we buying that dress or what? Because if Steve sees you in it, I’m pretty sure he’s going to lose his mind.”

The warmth in your chest swelled as you smoothed your hands over the fabric, the thought of Steve’s reaction sending a flutter through your stomach. Maybe Nancy was right. Maybe it didn’t matter when it started. What mattered was what you felt now.

And in this moment, wearing this dress, you couldn’t deny just how much you wanted him to see you in it. Or how much you wanted him to tear it off of you. Both would be okay.

You handed Steve’s credit card to the cashier, the shiny black rectangle almost mocking you as you slid it across the counter. Nancy leaned against the register, arms crossed, giving you a pointed look. You weren’t sure if it was judgment or amusement—or maybe, worst of all, both.

“What?” you asked, trying to keep your tone casual.

Nancy’s lips twitched like she was fighting a smirk. “Nothing. Just wondering if this is the part where you tell me Steve offered to buy out the whole store.”

You rolled your eyes. “Not my fault he insisted,” you muttered, even as heat crept up your neck.

The cashier returned the card with a polite smile, and you tucked it back into your wallet, exhaling softly. Nancy was still watching you with that knowing look, and you were just about to ask her to quit it when she straightened up.

“You want to get ready at my place?” she asked, her tone shifting to something lighter. “Robin’s coming over. She usually hates going to these things, but I tempted her with wine.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “At least she knows what she wants.”

“She made me promise it’d be red,” Nancy added with a grin. “Apparently, it’s ‘fancy people’ wine. She’s so dramatic. You should have seen her and Steve when they worked at the video store together. Drama Queen central.”

“That checks out,” you said, grabbing the bag with your dress inside. Your mind started to wander at the thought of what Steve was like when he was younger. Was he always the playful type? “Sure, I’ll come over. Steve said to meet him at the gala.”

Nancy’s grin widened as she looped her arm through yours, steering you toward the exit.

You smiled, but your thoughts drifted as you walked. The dress hung heavier in the bag than it should have. You wondered how Steve would react when he saw you in it. If he’d be smug, surprised, or something softer, something just for you.

Nancy nudged you gently. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Just wondering if Robin’s ‘fancy’ wine is going to be boxed,” you deflected, earning a laugh from her.

But deep down, you couldn’t shake the anticipation drumming beneath your skin.

***

“Holy shit. You are hot.” Robin proclaimed. She had settled on a green pantsuit with a black jacket. Her hair was braided. She looked pretty, you thought.

You rolled your eyes. “Someone please take away the wine.”

Robin laughed. “Oh babe, this is not the wine speaking. This is the truth. No wonder why Steve is so obsessed with you!”

“That’s what I said!” Nancy shrieked. She was putting on earrings that dangled like gold icicles.

You tucked your chin into your chest, smiling bashfully. “This feels so weird,” you admitted. They wouldn’t know the weight behind the words. How just a few days ago you two were arguing over a tagline for a client and suddenly you were his not-so-fake girlfriend? Even if it wasn’t official, so many lines were crossed. You could never go back to being just his intern.

Robin scoffed. “What’s weird with wearing his credit card in dress form? Do you know how cheap that man is?”

Yes, you thought. He once made you call a restaurant for a refund because they forgot one side on a $200 order for the office. “That’s not what I meant,” you smiled weakly. “It’s complicated.” You almost winced at the word, feeling guilty that you had gotten aggravated Steve had used it last night. But now, you realized, he was right.

How were you to explain to anyone about any of this? You felt ashamed you were lying to Nancy and Robin. They seemed nice. And they seemed like they cared so much about Steve. A week ago you didn’t even know he had human relationships with other beings.

“The best kind of romances are,” Robin said with a cheesy smile.

Nancy rolled her eyes, taking the glass of wine from her friend. “Bad advice, Rob.” She looked at you as you finished putting on your shoes. “It doesn’t have to be complicated. Tell him whatever you’re thinking.”

You let out a long exhale and half-hearted smile. Your chest was tight again as the lie bubbled inside you. You were afraid of one wrong move and it would finally burst.

***

City Hall loomed in the distance, its architecture a stately blend of old-world charm and timeless grandeur. Hawkins had always surprised you that way—unassuming on the surface but filled with treasures if you knew where to look.

Even as someone who had spent time in places like Chicago, there was something about Hawkins that felt irreplaceable. It was a hidden gem, the kind of place that didn’t need towering skyscrapers or sprawling cityscapes to feel special.

As you stepped inside, the soft hum of conversation mixed with the clinking of champagne glasses, creating an air of understated elegance. The polished marble floors gleamed beneath the glow of strategically placed chandeliers, their light refracting off crystal accents to cast delicate patterns across the room.

The decor was simple yet refined. Crisp white linens draped over long banquet tables lined the walls, each adorned with arrangements of ivory roses and greenery. Golden candelabras stood at intervals, their flickering flames casting a warm, inviting glow that complemented the muted tones of the space.

Even the waitstaff added to the air of effortless sophistication, weaving through the room with trays of champagne flutes and bite-sized appetizers. It was hard not to marvel at how Hawkins managed to pull this off—classy, yet entirely its own. No big city could replicate this.

The soft hum of chatter filled the air as you navigated the bustling room, weaving through clusters of people engaged in polite conversation. Your gaze swept the space until it landed on Steve. He stood near a corner of the room, laughing warmly with a group of older attendees, his shoulders relaxed, one hand tucked casually into his pocket.

There was something magnetic about the way he carried himself, equal parts approachable and self-assured. It was a side of him you didn’t often see in the office, where the weight of deadlines and clients sometimes dimmed his natural ease.

As if sensing your gaze, Steve looked up, his smile faltering for a brief moment before softening into something warmer—something just for you. His hazel eyes widened slightly as he took you in, his awe almost palpable as his gaze swept over your dress. He didn’t even try to hide it, his lips parting as if he’d been momentarily struck speechless.

You made your way over to him, the murmurs around you fading into the background. “Hey,” you greeted softly, your voice cutting through the buzz of the room.

“Hey,” he said back, his tone uncharacteristically quiet. His eyes didn’t leave yours, lingering for a beat longer than necessary before finally breaking away. “You look…” He paused, his words seemingly caught in his throat before he let out a breathless chuckle. “Beautiful.”

A blush warmed your cheeks, but you played it off with a teasing smile. “You don’t look too bad yourself, Mr. Harrington.”

Steve grinned, his confidence returning as he straightened slightly. “Come on, let me show you around,” he said, gesturing toward the far side of the room. “They’ve got some pretty interesting stuff up for auction this year.”

You fell into step beside him as he led you through the crowd, pointing out various displays that ranged from antique vases to hand-painted holiday décor. His voice was light, easy, as he described each item with just enough enthusiasm to keep you engaged.

A mix of art pieces, jewelry, and vintage collectibles caught your eye, each labeled with elegant calligraphy on small white cards.

Steve pointed out a few items, explaining their significance or who had donated them. His voice was low, almost conspiratorial, as if sharing a secret just with you. Then your gaze landed on something that made you pause—a delicate charm bracelet displayed on a deep blue cushion.

The bracelet was silver, its charms shaped like intricate snowflakes, each one unique. The craftsmanship was stunning, and the way the light caught on the dainty designs made it look almost magical.

“This is beautiful,” you murmured, almost to yourself.

Steve followed your gaze, his expression softening when he saw what had caught your eye. “It suits you,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now. “The snowflakes, I mean.”

You looked at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. “I wasn’t fishing for compliments, you know.”

He smirked, leaning slightly closer. “Maybe I just like giving them to you.”

You nudged your hip against his, his hand quickly sliding to your waist to keep you there. “Where were those compliments after meetings with clients?”

He looked away, ashamed, and pointed back at the bracelet. “I mean it’s just like you, it looks delicate—”

Your eyebrows shot up, cutting him off. “Are you saying I’m fragile?”

“What?” He snapped his head to look down at you, his grip tightening as if he was scared you’d step away. “No, that’s not what I was meaning—”

“I’d like to remind you. Who saved your ass last week when you froze during the Q&A in one of our client meetings?” You were trying, and failing at biting back a grin. This was just too fun to mess with him now that things were incredibly different between the two of you.

Steve groaned, his free hand dragging down his face. “Okay, first of all, I didn’t freeze. I paused for dramatic effect.”

You let out a snort, unable to help yourself. “Sure, Mr. Harrington. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Steve’s expression changed into the same expression he gave you last night while teasing you until you unravelled. His eyes clouded. “What I was trying to say,” he started, his voice low, “is that it looks delicate, but it’s not. Snowflakes are stronger than they seem.”

Your smirk faltered, replaced by something softer as his words sank in. “Oh,” you said quietly, your teasing edge dissolving.

Steve stepped closer, his hand brushing yours lightly as he tilted his head to meet your eyes. “Kind of like you,” he added, his voice just above a whisper.

You looked up at him, your breath hitching at the sincerity in his gaze. For a moment, you forgot about the room around you, the hum of the gala fading into the background.

“Stop,” you said softly.

“Stop what?” He gave you a cheeky smile.

You bit your lip, leaning back to fully look at him. “Stop looking at me like you want to kiss me.”

“Are you trying to threaten me if that’s exactly what I want to do?” His finger ghosted your chin, making you shiver. “Maybe I am,” you said.

Steve’s grin widened, the corners of his mouth curling in that infuriatingly charming way he had perfected. “So, what happens now? You gonna report me to HR for inappropriate behavior?”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the smile that threatened to break free. “I don’t know, Steve. This might finally be the straw that gets you fired.”

“Fired?” He placed a dramatic hand on his chest, leaning closer. “Not if I tell HR that you’ve been staring at me all night like you’re undressing me with your eyes.”

Your jaw dropped, and you smacked his arm, laughing despite yourself. “I was not!”

He chuckled, grabbing your hand before you could hit him again. “Sure you weren’t.” His thumb brushed over your knuckles, a moment of tenderness slipping through the teasing.

You wanted to kiss him. Badly. To taste him again. But you restrained yourself.

Before either of you could say more, a voice crackled over the microphone near the stage. “Ladies and gentlemen, just a quick announcement—Santa will be arriving in thirty minutes to visit with the children!”

You turned toward the sound, spotting Steve’s mom holding the mic with an amused smile. She glanced your way and gave a little wave.

You gave Steve a slow once-over, tilting your chin in mock assessment. “See, you need to be careful. Santa will be here in thirty minutes. Should I tell him you’ve been naughty?”

Steve offered a weak smile as his mother winked at him while walking off the stage. You felt Steve stiffen beside you, his hand sliding from your waist as he stood straighter. That guilty look in his eye could only mean trouble.

“What?” you asked, your suspicion immediate.

He rubbed the back of his neck, his grin turning sheepish. “About that... I am Santa.”

You stared at him, your mouth falling open. “You? Santa? You’re kidding.”

He shook his head, biting back a laugh. “I wish I was. Every year. It’s like a family tradition or something, and my mom roped me into it again.”

A laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it. “Oh, this is too good. Steve Harrington in a Santa suit? Do the kids know they’re about to meet the hottest Santa ever?”

Steve’s apprehension immediately evaporated, smirking, leaning in closer. “You think I’m the hottest Santa ever?”

“Don’t push it,” you retorted, poking his chest. “And please tell me you at least practiced your ‘Ho, ho, ho.’”

His lips twitched. “Do you want a preview?”

“God, no,” you said, laughing as you tried to step back. “Spare me.”

He caught your hand, pulling you back toward him. “Come on. You’re helping me get ready.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “What, like an elf? Absolutely not.”

Steve’s grin turned devious. “No elf ears required, promise. But I could use someone to make sure my beard’s straight. Plus, moral support.”

You sighed dramatically, but you couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Fine. But if you expect me to call you ‘Santa,’ you’re dreaming.”

“Noted,” he said with a laugh, tugging you gently toward a side door. As you followed, he shot you a sly glance over his shoulder. “But, for the record, you’d make a sexy Mrs. Claus.”

You groaned, shoving his shoulder lightly.

Steve led you through the hall and up a flight of stairs, his hand lingering lightly at the small of your back. The faint buzz of the gala faded behind you, replaced by the quiet creak of an old door as he pushed it open.

The room was simple, functional—a large mirror dominated one wall, and a rack of costumes stood in the corner, the crimson Santa suit hanging front and center like the star of the show.

You raised an eyebrow as you stepped inside, gesturing to the suit. “Well, you weren’t kidding. This is... something.”

It was an impressive getup: rich crimson velvet, trimmed with plush white fur. A thick black belt with a golden buckle hung from a hook nearby, along with the iconic hat and boots.

Steve crossed the room and picked up the jacket, holding it out in front of him. “It’s a lot, right?”

You smirked, leaning against the doorframe. “It’s missing a little something. Maybe a rhinestone belt? Or some sequins? Really make it pop.”

He groaned, tossing the jacket over the back of a chair. “You’re already making this worse.”

“Worse?” you teased, stepping closer. “I’m here to make sure Santa is in top shape for the big debut.”

You stepped closer, grabbing the jacket off the chair. “Alright, Mr. Claus. Arms up.”

Steve turned to face you, his eyes narrowing playfully. “You’re enjoying this way too much” He raised his arms obediently, his expression one of mock annoyance as you slid the jacket onto him. The fabric hugged his shoulders in a way that had no business being as flattering as it was.

“You know,” you said, your tone teasing but your pulse quickening, “this really works on you. Hot Santa could be your next career move.”

Steve’s lips curved into a wicked grin. “Is that a compliment or just your not-so-subtle way of saying I’m irresistible?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” you shot back, but your voice wavered slightly as he leaned in, his hazel eyes darkening with mischief.

“Too late,” he murmured, his hand catching yours as you reached for the belt. “You keep touching me like that, and we might have to cancel Santa’s appearance altogether.”

Your breath caught, your eyes flicking to his lips. “Steve…”

“What?” he said, his voice low, teasing. “You’re the one getting me all flustered.”

You rolled your eyes, but before you could fire back, he closed the distance between you, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that started gentle but quickly deepened. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you against him as the plush fabric of the Santa jacket pressed between you.

The heat of his kiss sent a shiver down your spine, and you let yourself melt into him for a moment, your fingers curling into his lapels. But when he nipped at your bottom lip, a soft sound escaped your throat, and you broke away, breathless.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, your forehead resting against his.

“And you’re beautiful,” he said, his voice husky as his thumb brushed along your hip. “Dangerously distracting, actually.”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress a grin. “You know, you’re not very convincing as a wholesome Santa figure right now.”

Steve chuckled, his lips ghosting along your jaw as his hands slid up your sides. “I’m off duty for another fifteen minutes. Plenty of time to be a little… less wholesome.”

Your heart raced as his mouth found the spot just below your ear, making your knees wobble. “Steve…”

“Say the word, and I’ll stop,” he murmured against your skin.

You wanted to say something, to tease him or push him away, but instead, your fingers found their way into his hair, tugging lightly. He groaned, his hands tightening on your waist as he kissed you again, harder this time.

He kissed your chin, then your jaw, and then his mouth found your neck. His teeth grazed the soft skin. You should push him away but only soft whimpers came out of your mouth. His hands had made their way to their rightful spot on your bottom, squeezing gently.

He was the one who finally broke away, but something from his expression told you everything you needed to know. He didn’t want to. He licked his lips, smiling shyly, looking away as if he was trying to recollect himself.

It was cute when he did that. At the moment, he could be so arrogant and confident but then at other moments he looked like a school boy who had no clue how to talk to girls. You kissed his cheek before grabbing the rest of the suit to help him get in.

He turned toward the rack, grabbing the belt and hat. “Alright, how do I look now?”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider. “You’re missing the beard.”

Steve groaned, reaching for the dreaded white fluff. “This thing is the worst.”

“Let me help,” you said, taking it from him and stepping closer again.

As you adjusted the elastic band, your fingers lingered near his jaw, and you couldn’t resist brushing your thumb lightly over his stubble. He caught your wrist, his gaze searching yours.

“You’re really testing me,” he said, his voice low.

“Good thing you’re Santa,” you teased. “Patience is kind of your thing.”

He smirked, leaning in to steal one more kiss. “Patience, huh? You sure about that?”

Before you could respond, he crossed the room in two quick steps, grabbed your hand, and tugged you toward the oversized chair by the mirror. “C’mon,” he said with a mischievous grin, plopping himself down and patting his lap. “I need help getting into character.”

You blinked, incredulous. “You want me to sit on your lap?”

“Only way this works,” he teased, shrugging nonchalantly. His hand rested on the arm of the chair, his fingers drumming idly, but the playful spark in his eyes was anything but casual.

“Steve Harrington–”

“Santa Claus.” He quickly corrected you.

You scoffed. “Mr. Claus.” You crossed your arms. “This feels like a trap.”

“Trap?” He gasped, feigning offense. “It’s tradition. Totally professional. Pure holiday spirit. Come on, sit down.”

Rolling your eyes, you relented, lowering yourself onto his lap carefully, your hands resting on his shoulders for balance. His hands settled on your waist, firm but easy, and his grin widened like he’d just won something.

“Alright, fine,” you said. “What now?”

“Now you tell me what you want,” he said, leaning back slightly. “And be honest. I’m very generous this time of year.”

You tapped your chin, playing along. “Okay. I want a boss who isn’t a complete pain in the ass.”

Steve snorted, his grip tightening playfully on your waist. “Wow, that’s festive. Anything else? World peace, maybe?”

“Oh, and a boss who doesn’t hog the office coffee pot,” you added, smirking. “You’re a serial offender, Mr. Harrington.”

“Who is this Mr. Harrington?” He asked.

You slightly nudged him, letting out an exasperated sigh. “He’s a freak who has a thing for skirts.”

Steve’s laugh was deep and playful as he tilted his head, the Santa hat askew in a way that only made him look more annoyingly handsome. “A thing for skirts, huh? Sounds like something Steve Harrington might do. But me? I’m just Santa Claus.”

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched at his ridiculous attempt to stay in character. “Oh, so Santa has no clue about Steve Harrington’s behavior? None at all?”

“Not a one,” he said, shaking his head solemnly. “But he sounds like trouble. I mean, hogging the coffee pot? Borderline criminal.”

You snorted, playing along. “And don’t forget the staring. The guy’s a menace. Should be on some kind of watchlist.”

Steve gasped dramatically, placing a hand over his chest as if deeply offended. “I have to say, I’m disappointed in him. What kind of boss gets distracted in meetings?”

“Oh, the kind who claims to be ‘observational’ when he’s very clearly not,” you shot back, leaning slightly closer.

Steve’s smirk deepened, his hands tightening ever so slightly on your waist. “Maybe I’ll have to add him to the naughty list. What do you think?”

“I think he’s been on it for years,” you teased, your fingers toying with the fur trim of his jacket.

“Well, that settles it,” he said, his tone mock-serious. “Steve Harrington’s officially on my naughty list. Now, what about you?”

Your eyes narrowed playfully. “What about me?”

“Any confessions to make while you’re sitting on Santa’s lap?” His grin widened, mischief dancing in his hazel eyes.

You huffed, pretending to think. “Well, I guess I did let my boss think I didn’t notice him blushing every time I caught him looking at me.”

Steve froze for half a second, and then he laughed, low and warm. “Caught me, huh? Santa’s gonna need some elaboration there.”

“Nice try,” you said, poking his chest. “You’re supposed to know everything. Isn’t that the whole deal with Santa?”

Steve shrugged, his smirk impossible to resist. “Maybe Santa just likes hearing you admit it.”

You were about to fire back when he leaned closer, his nose brushing yours. “So,” he said softly, his tone dropping into something more genuine, “what do you really want for Christmas?”

The teasing edge in his tone softened just enough to make your heart skip. You looked at him, your smile faltering slightly. “I don’t know,” you said, trying to deflect. “What about you? What does Santa want for Christmas?”

His smirk faded into something quieter, his hazel eyes searching yours. “That’s easy,” he said. “I want to take you on a real date when we’re back in Chicago.”

You blinked. “Santa or Steve?”

He titled his head. “What do you think?”

Your breath caught at the sincerity in his voice. “A real date?”

“Yeah,” he said, his tone earnest. “No fake dates for my mom or friends. Just us. Dinner, maybe a movie. Something normal.”

You hesitated, your fingers unconsciously curling into the fabric of his jacket. “Steve…”

“What?” he said, his voice gentler now. “I’ve been thinking about it all day.”

You glanced away, your thoughts swirling. “I don’t know if I can be normal about this,” you admitted quietly. “I mean, everything about us started as… well, not normal. You were right when I asked about it last night. It’s all… complicated.”

“Exactly,” he said, his hand shifting to cup your chin and turn your face back toward him. “So let’s change that. Let’s make it normal. You and me, no pretense, no pretending. Just something real. I should have reacted differently last night. But I was scared. I had to think about it from two perspectives. Professionally and personally. Professionally, I respect you and what you offer to the company. I didn’t want others to think you’re there for me to ‘stare at’ because you are much more than a pretty face. But personally, you drive me so insane in the best way possible.”

His words made your chest ache in the best way, and you felt a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “You sound awfully sure about this,” you teased, though your voice was softer now.

“I am,” he said without hesitation. “Look, I know I’ve been… not great at talking about this stuff. But I’m sure about you. About wanting this.”

You studied his face, the earnestness in his expression making your heart squeeze. “Okay,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Okay?” he echoed, his smile spreading slowly.

“Okay,” you giggled.

His grin softened, turning into something warmer as he tilted his head, studying you. “So, we’re both hopeless, then?”

“Seems like it,” you murmured, the tension in the room thickening as his gaze flickered to your lips.

“Good thing I’m Santa,” he said after a beat, his voice low, teasing again but tinged with something deeper. “Pretty sure I’ve got some magic for situations like this.”

“Oh yeah?” you asked, trying to sound unimpressed but failing miserably as your heart hammered against your ribs.

“Yeah,” he replied, his hands sliding up to cradle your hips as he leaned forward, his nose brushing yours. “For starters, I’d say this moment could use another kiss.”

“Steve–” you began, but your protest was swallowed by the warmth of his lips pressing against yours.

The kiss was slower this time, deliberate, like he was trying to pour all the unspoken things into it. The fake beard tickled your face as your lips pushed and pulled. Your fingers curled into the soft fur trim of his jacket, holding him close as his hands moved up to frame your face, thumbs brushing your jaw.

When you pulled apart you both laughed. This was all utterly ridiculous. But it all felt right. You wiped his swallowed lips, realizing you had left obvious kiss marks all over his face.

Steve’s hand caught your wrist. “You know, Santa would like to tell you that your dress might be the reason you end up on his naughty list.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time, would it?”

His grin turned wicked, his fingers brushing against your skin. “If you keep looking at me like that, it might not be the last, either.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. You pulled at his beard, the elastic stretching before letting it go. “Are you done flirting, Santa? You’ve got kids waiting downstairs.”

Steve yelped, rubbing his cheek. Regardless, he kissed your temple.

The both of you stood up from the chair. He dramatically puffed out his chest and held his belt, giving you a small wink as he left the room.

***

The cheerful hum of the holiday festivities filled the room, children’s laughter blending with the soft notes of carols drifting through the air. Across the room, Steve sat on a grand chair, dressed in his Santa suit and surrounded by kids eagerly waiting to share their Christmas wishes. His laugh was warm and easy, his gestures animated as he played his part perfectly.

You stood near the refreshment table with his mom, watching him work the crowd with that effortless charm. He really did look good, even in the ridiculous costume, and something about seeing him like this made your chest ache.

“He’s got his father’s smile,” his mom said suddenly, her voice tinged with something bittersweet.

You turned to her, surprised by the comment. She was holding a glass of champagne, her gaze fixed on Steve with a softness that only a mother could have.

“Really?” you asked, tilting your head. You tried to remember the photo on the desk.

She nodded, her lips curving into a small, nostalgic smile. “Oh, yes. You know, his father used to play Santa every year. He was so good with the kids. Steve... he reminds me of him more and more these days.”

Your gaze shifted back to Steve, who was helping a little girl onto his lap, her face lighting up with pure joy as he spoke to her. It was easy to imagine him as the kind of dad who’d go all out for his own kids someday. You would think it’s because as a kid his own dad didn’t really give it to him. But no, you were starting to understand that Steve was just that type of guy.

You didn’t want to break the illusion his mother had of Steve’s dad. You were sure she noticed his absence from what Steve had told you. Regardless, that was still her husband. “I guess it runs in the family,” you said softly, trying to match her wistful tone.

His mom chuckled lightly, but then her smile faltered, and she hesitated before speaking again. “It’s been good to see him like this. Enjoying himself, even if it’s just for tonight. He’s been... preoccupied lately.”

Your stomach tightened at her words, but you kept your expression neutral. “Preoccupied?”

She sipped her champagne, her eyes flicking to yours briefly before returning to Steve. “Yes, with the business. He’s been thinking about selling it—or quitting altogether. He hasn’t made any decisions yet, but it’s been weighing on him for a while. To be honest, I thought he would’ve done it sooner but something has been holding him back.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your mind raced, scrambling to piece together what she’d just said. Steve? Selling the business? Quitting? Why hadn’t he mentioned it to you? You worked so closely together—how could he keep something this big from you? Why hadn’t he told his employees?

But you couldn’t let his mom see your reaction, so you forced a smile, nodding as if you already knew. “Yeah, he... he mentioned it briefly,” you lied, your voice sounding steadier than you felt.

She didn’t seem to notice the strain in your tone. “It makes sense, though,” she continued. “He’s always been so hardworking, but he’s not the kind of person who thrives under all that pressure. I think part of him just wants to figure out what makes him happy. He never went to college and he’s almost thirty.” She laughed, hiccuping. “Oh I think I’ve had too much eggnog. You already know all of this. I’m sure you’ll help him figure it all out”

What makes him happy. The words echoed in your mind, twisting something deep in your chest. Was this why he’d been acting so cagey about your relationship? Was this part of the reason he avoided talking about what came next for the two of you?

You glanced back at Steve, watching as he listened attentively to a little boy holding a stuffed reindeer. His laugh boomed through the room as he patted the kid’s shoulder, and the boy beamed up at him. He looked so at ease, so completely in his element, but now all you could see was the weight he must have been carrying behind the scenes.

And you hadn’t noticed.

Your fingers tightened around your glass, and you swallowed against the lump forming in your throat. How could you confront him about this without sounding accusatory? Or selfish? Maybe it wasn’t your place to question his choices—but wasn’t it your place to know?

“Are you alright, dear?” his mom asked, pulling you from your spiraling thoughts.

You plastered on a reassuring smile, nodding quickly. “Of course. Just a lot to think about, I guess.”

She patted your arm, her expression kind. “Steve’s lucky to have you.”

You nodded again, though her words only made the knot in your stomach tighten.

For the rest of the evening, your smiles were just a little harder to maintain, and every time you caught Steve’s eye, a million unspoken questions buzzed in your mind.

146 notes · View notes

aikaterini-drag · 7 months ago

Text

The Sweetest Surprise PART 2

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Summary: Rafe returns from work and you have a sweet surprise for him.

Warnings: minors don’t interact, 18+, lots of fluff and sweet moments, pregnancy announcement, shameless smut. Enjoy!!

This is belongs to the ‘Loving You Series’. Find it here.

At first you thought the tiredness and anxiety were due to the wedding preparations and your busy schedule at the museum. With only five months until your wedding to Rafe, the things you had to do daily were overwhelming. The only thing that made you calm down was Rafe.

But for the past ten days, you’d felt more unwell than usual. Sometimes you were lightheaded, and some scents seemed to turn your stomach. Just that morning, the nausea was so bad you had to leave work early. You went straight to the pharmacy, bought a dozen pregnancy tests and rushed home.

A while later, you were pacing back and forth, your heart pounding as you stared at the two lines on the pregnancy stick. Positive. The moment had finally arrived. You and Rafe had done it. You were pregnant! Joy and a little anxiety bubbled within you as you thought about how to tell him. He wanted a baby just as much as you, and you wanted the reveal to be perfect.

After a lot of pondering, you decided to surprise him that evening once he came back home from the company. Getting busy, you cooked his favorite meal, set the table and prepared for a cozy and intimate night in. By 8 pm, the table was ready, the delicious scent of homemade lasagna filling the air. You hid the neatly wrapped gift box into the a cabinet and fumbled with your hands, nervously waiting.

When you heard the door unlocking, you went to greet him, you whole being vibrating with excitement. Rafe closed the door, locked it, and opened his arms. You ran into his embrace, and he encased you protectively, lifting you off the ground for a few seconds. His natural scent teased your nose, dark and musky, it didn’t bother your sensitive stomach.

“Someone missed me more than usual,” he said before bending down to claim your lips.

“Hmm, missed you,” you muttered in between wet kisses.

“Something smells amazing.”

“I made your favorite,” you replied as casually as possible. “Why don’t you wash up and join me? Dinner’s almost ready.”

You shifted away to check on the food but he grabbed your waist, pulling you back against his chest. You wore a flowery mini dress that hugged your breasts and showed off your collarbones. Rafe seemed highly affected by it. His hands traced your hips, waist and the outline of your breasts before stopping at your shoulders.

“You wore my favorite dress,” he said, his voice low and sultry. “You know what that does to me.”

“You will be a good boy and wait.”

“Babe.” His breath was warm against your neck as he whispered, “It’s hard enough for me to keep my hands off you, especially when you wear this dress.”

You flushed but managed to slip out of his hold, smiling playfully. “Dinner first. Pussy later.”

He chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that sent a thrill through you. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

“And don’t you love it,” you teased as you strolled back to the kitchen. Rafe followed after you, smacking your bum lightly before making his way to the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, he was fresh out of the shower with his short hair still damp. He had changed into black trousers and a loose white shirt that he left partially unbuttoned, giving a glimpse of his sculpted chest. He sauntered over to you and hugged you from behind as you served the meal. You smiled and breathed in his clean masculine scent.

“Missed you, love.” He kissed the side of your neck. “I’m starving.”

“Everything’s ready.”

You sat down and enjoyed your dinner. Rafe talked about his day at work, then just watched you with a hungry look in his eyes. You ate a little, but with his probing, you finished your plate. He nursed a glass of wine—you had juice and that made him flinch for a moment.

“Something’s different today. What is it?” His eyes settled on you, warm and appraising.

You stiffened a little. He always read you like an open book. You smiled and decided it was the right time so you took out the gift box, setting it in front of him on the table.

“This is for you, baby. Open it,” you said, your heart racing.

Rafe stared at your with widened eyes. He muttered a husky “Don’t tell me it’s what I think it is” while he untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. He exhaled in gratitude as he pulled out the pregnancy stick. He looked up at you, his eyes so full of love and adoration.

“Yes, yes yes!!” he shouted, jumping up from his chair so quickly that it fell over. He reached you in an instant, lifting you into his arms and squeezing you tightly.

You clutched him, tears of happiness in your eyes. “Yes, we’re going to have a baby.”

“Oh my God, baby, we’re having a baby!” He set you on your feet and kissed you deeply, tears of joy rolling down his eyes. You wiped them, but realized you were also crying, even harder than he.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry, beautiful,” he said gently as he kissed your tears away. “Don’t cry, please I can’t take it.”

“Happy tears.” You sniffled, smiling through your tears. He kissed you softly, peppering touches until you’d stopped crying.

“We’re in this together, okay? You and me.” He framed your flushed face and kissed the top of your red nose. “No more crying, alright? I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, your heart swelling with joy.

Kneeling, he lifted the hem of your dress and kissed your still-flat stomach tenderly. “My precious baby is carrying my baby.”

“I am,” you laughed, shivering at the feel of him against your skin.

He pressed his cheek to your soft belly. “Hey there, little one. I’m your daddy,” he murmured. “I can’t wait to meet you. Stay safe and help me take care of your mommy, hm?”

You ran your fingers through his hair, ready to cry again at the tenderness of the moment.

“Rafe, I’m so happy,” you said, your voice trembling with emotion.

He stood up and pulled you close, his eyes bright with mischief. “Not as much as I. I finally made it happen,” he said, a triumphant grin on his face. “I knocked you up.”

You laughed. “I never doubted you would. You’ve been so determined.”

He slid the straps of your dress off your shoulders and kissed your collarbones. “I can’t wait until you’re showing. I want everyone to see that bump and know you’re carrying my seed.”

“You’re impossibly obsessed.”

He nodded, unabashed. “I am. I’m a slut for you. And for your pussy, your breasts, and your pert little ass. Actually, I fucking worship all of you.”

His words awakened a warm flush through you. “I’ll have you know I’m just as crazy about you.”

He kissed the tops of your breasts, his hands roaming your body. “Well, I can say for sure I’m even crazier.”

“And excited,” you added, sliding your hand down the front of his pants. He was fully erect in your palm, his balls swollen.

“You always make me excited. Even when you’re not with me, just thinking about fucking you gets me hard. And now that you’re pregnant, I’m gonna be in a constant state of hardness for you.”

“Poor baby.” You gave his crotch a gentle squeeze, making him groan. “I can take care of it.”

Growling his approval, he unbuckled his belt and stripped down his trousers and boxers until they pooled at his ankles. You were planning to take him in your mouth, but he sat down and pulled you to straddle him, your legs on either side of his thighs.

“Not fair,“ you pouted, reaching down to pump his cock slowly, feeling the veiny skin against your palms. “I want to suck you.”

“I know, babe…hmmm,” he groaned as you rubbed his ballsack. “Later, perhaps. Now all I can think of is burying myself deep into your warm little cunt.”

You shook your head defiantly, deciding to keep jacking him and running your thumb over the trickle of pre-cum at the head.

“Naughty baby,” he grumbled as he let you have your way— for now —while he worked to remove your clothes. He slipped off your dress and growled at the sight of your tits. Plump and high, they looked delicious enough to eat and he did just that, putting his warm mouth around each rosy nipple. He cupped the underside of your smooth mounds and jutted them up toward his lips.

Choked moans left you as you wiggled shamelessly on his lap, begging him to keep going. Rafe whisked one nipple with his tongue, smiled, then moved to the other. Your hands pumped his shaft weakly, the stimulation was too much, and quickly got out of hand when you heard the sound of your underwear ripping.

“Rafe!” you meant to sound angry but a long moan escaped you when he cupped your pussy.

“What?” he asked sweetly.

“Nnnngh…” you could only whimper as his fingers rubbed your slit, slicking up his fingers in your abundant wetness.

“Such a good girl for me, dripping for me,” he praised, gently probing with two thick fingers. The digits entered you with great care, sliding deep and curving inside you.

“Yesssss,” you clutched his shoulders, realized he still wore his shirt so you impatiently tugged it off. Satisfied, you raked your fingers over his strong chest and broad shoulders.

Rafe fucked you with his fingers while his mouth feasted on your nipples, his wet tongue suckling and circling each tip. Your chest was rosy and marked with his touches and you arched frantically against him, your stomach quivering. Your release hit you so hard that you wanted to scream, but you bit your lips to keep the noise down.

Noticing, Rafe slapped your clit lightly. “Don’t you dare hide your moans from me. I want to hear you.”

You winced, trembling with aftershocks as he kept his fingers inside you and added the gentle pressure of his thumb against your clit. He went back down on your tits, licking the curve and around the flushed areolas.

“Please, fill me up,” you whined, panting heavily. “Inside, deep, come on!”

Smiling against your skin, he grabbed your hips and stood up with you in his arms. You locked your hands at his nape as he pushed you against the wall. You felt one hand cradling your back, protecting you from the hard surface, the other cupping your ass.

“Whatever my goddess wants, my goddess gets.”

You felt the blunt tip at the entrance of your pussy, slowly pressing into you, your walls stretching around the incredible thickness. Pleasurable chills travelled through your body and you wrapped your legs around him, moaning as you felt every inch of him invade you. Rafe lowered you down his cock, your pussy accepting him inside to the hilt.

He groaned and held himself still. “Fuck, your pussy is heaven.”

“More,” you clutched him for dear life needing him close. It was too much yet not enough.

“Easy.” His thick cock pulsed inside you. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It’s okay, Rafe. I promise.”

“We have to be careful from now on,” he said casually as if he wasn’t buried balls-deep inside you. “First thing tomorrow, we’re going to the doctor. I want to make sure you and the baby have the best care.”

“Fine, daddy, now fuck me, please?” Your voice a was playful whisper.

His eyes darkened. “Want my dick so bad, baby?”

“Hmm… want this fucking big cock that knocked me up.”

And that did the trick. He fucked you with a passion that turned you into a sobbing, blubbering mess. His cock was drenched in your juices, both of you panting for air. Thrusting in and out of you steadily, you rocked with force and pulled his head for purchase. Your nipples rubbed against his chest, tits squeezed delightfully until he decided he wanted a view, so he leaned back and watched as your tits heaved with each thrust.

“Gonna…ngh... gonna—"

“Let go baby, I've got you," he drawled. “Cum, baby. Cum all over my dick.”

At his command, your pussy clenched, pleasure making you frantic. You wrapped yourself around him, your teeth grazing his collarbone as you rode your high. He kept fucking you through it and with a bellow, pushed as deep as he could go and let go, spurting thick white streaks inside you. You milked him dry, your breath rugged against his neck.

Several long minutes later, you felt him push from the wall and make his way to the bedroom.

“Rafe..." you muttered as he walked with his raging cock pulsing inside you. You clung to him, letting out a series of soft whimpers.

Rubbing your back comfortingly, he sat at the edge of the bed. "All good?" he asked, his eyes locked on yours.

"Yes, my love," you smiled, running your hand through his hair. “Want you to fuck me again.”

He chuckled darkly. “Such a filthy word from such a lovely mouth.”

“Want to suck you, too.” You smiled when his thumb trailed your lips and, eagerly, you took it in your mouth.

“Damn… I’m yours, baby. I’ll do anything you want.”

“I’m at my happiest,” you grinned, kissing him softly on the lips.

“Not as happy as you’ve made me, baby. Just when I thought it couldn’t get better, you rock my world.”

“And your cock.”

“And that.” He gave a shallow push to remind you that he was still deep inside you. “I’ll take care of you.”

You grinned. “Not if I take care of you first.”

Next part will be something fluffy that gives depth to their relationship. Stay tuned.

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