#n: gardenia

[myscentarchive]

Tuberóza - NISHANE

Extrait de Parfum - 0.7 ml (wand)

Notes- TOP: Ylang Ylang, Sweet Orange, Armoise, Orange Blossom MIDDLE: Tuberose, Gardenia, Jasmine, Marigold BASE: Amberwood, Vetiver, Sandalwood, Musk

Gender: Unisex Reveals mainly the captivating tuberose of Mexico which is accompanied by other floral notes like gardenia, marigold and jasmine. Strong ambery base is a guarantee for the distinctiveness of the scent.

[thearchvillain]

gardenias. | nikolai

part I

nikolai lantsov x reader

summary: Os Alta is alive with whispers of ambition as the Ravkan court gathers to find a queen for Vasily. Y/N, a merchant’s daughter, has no desire to be part of the spectacle. Forced to attend by her parents, she plans to keep her head down, avoid attention, and disappear before the night is over.

But secrets rarely survive the palace walls. A late-night meeting in the winter garden places her directly in the path of Nikolai Lantsov—the charming and unpredictable younger prince. Now, the one man she’s been desperate to avoid is far too interested in her plans, and to her dismay, she doesn’t entirely mind.

With her freedom on the line and the stakes rising, Y/N must navigate the court’s dangerous games—and the pull of a prince who might just unravel everything.

preview:

“I promise not to scream if you tell them you didn’t see who I was meeting with. Eryk’s done nothing wrong.” He lifted a brow, a sinuous smile curving his lips. “Do you promise not to bite, too?” Blood rushed furiously to her cheeks, indifferent to the fact that she was fighting desperately to keep her composure as she glared up at him, impervious to his taunting, or at least pretending to be. “I promise no such thing.” He leaned in, almost imperceptibly, a look of terrible amusement in his eyes as he whispered, “Good.” Then he straightened back up, hands in his pocket, all graceful, unruffled confidence. “But I find those sorts of nefarious activities are better enjoyed when one is well-rested. Shall I escort you to your room? Make sure you don’t accidentally commit some act of treason on your way to it.” She was careful to control her breathing, aware that she was one inhale too deep from being pressed against his chest. “Is that what this is about? You think I’m planning some grand act of treason with Zaitsev?” “Well, you have that look about you. A bit insolent, a bit treasonous.” “I thought you liked that.” He made a soft tutting sound, looking deeply entertained by the defiant tilt of her chin. “Of course I like you. It doesn’t mean I will just let this go.”

word count: 6k (i know. don't @ me, i made it even worse in the rewrite)

tropes/warnings: not cannon, vasily's still alive, nikolai's kinda suspicious that y/n is about to commit some kind of treason and it's reflected in the way he acts, there is tension and innuendos though sljdf

a/n: i'm not going to lie to you, this is absolutely going to be a multi-part. i'm enjoying writing nikolai being a teasing menace far too much not to explore it further, and i think nikolai would be far too curious and fascinated by y/n to just let it go (and a bit worried about what she's up to). i hope you enjoy it!

The air inside the winter garden was laden with the scent of jasmine. There was an oppressiveness to it, a warm humidity that lingered beneath the overbearing fragrance and made it hard to breathe. Or maybe it was just the nerves finally catching up to her. Tempting fate with illicit late-night meetings had a way of leaving one breathless, and that was precisely what Y/N was currently doing. Tempting fate.

She’d already sat down and stood back up several times, which did nothing to soothe her fraying nerves, so now she kept walking up and down the path instead, focusing on the repetitive sound of her steps. Her fingers were sticky with sap, the leaf she’d plucked from some peculiar bush rendered a soggy mess. She’d have thrown it away, but then she would have nothing to distract her from the nervousness pooling inside her chest.

This routine she had fallen into was why, when the door clicked open, Y/N halted in place, startled by the interruption. There was a beat of silence in which she could hear the startled flutter of her heart before the door closed and the key turned inside the lock. Disappointment solidified to stone inside her chest. A servant must have noticed the door was unlocked and locked it from the outside, that was all. Zaitsev wasn’t coming, and now Y/N would have to pick the lock again, this time with a slightly bend hairpin, in order to get back to her rooms.

Dragging in a shaky breath, she turned on her heel and headed in the opposite direction, towards the second door that led directly to the palace grounds. Taking the outdoor route back to her room would be a detour, but it meant she was less likely to be seen, and Y/N hoped the cool night air might help her figure out her next step.

“What’s the rush?” A voice came from somewhere behind her, startling in the deafening silence. “You’re missing out on the flowers.”

Y/N halted mid-step, breath caught in her throat as she stilled in her spot, uncertain. He continued, undeterred. “Or is the collection not exotic enough for the refined taste of a Ketterdam princess?”

This was not the Lieutenant’s voice - it was too silvery, too playful. Refined in its accent - not a native Kerch speaker, but a very well-educated one. Educated enough to have guessed who she was before ever hearing her speak. Shit.

She balled her fists and found her fingers still sticky, at once regretting both the leaf and her choice to assume someone had locked the door from the outside and not the inside. “I—” She cleared her throat, schooling her voice so she wouldn’t sound so guilty. “It’s the smell in here. It’s overpowering.”

“Perhaps the lady would find it less offensive in the daytime.” There was a pause, interrupted by the click of his boot against the marble floor. She swore she could hear the smirk in his voice as he continued, “As most people do.”

What she should have done was excuse herself and head for the grounds. Y/N knew this on an intellectual level. On a more practical one, she had a talent for talking back, and very little for demureness. “You are here too, are you not?” she said instead, then cursed inwardly when he chuckled in response.

“Touche.” She could hear him moving through the silence, his steps slow and deliberate. Could almost imagine him as a predator closing in on its prey in some distant, exotic forest. The foliage certainly fit the part. “But I like the smell at night. It’s jasmine, by the way. Night-blooming jasmine, to be specific. My mother’s favourite.”

She didn’t want to continue this conversation, but she thought that if she played along, she might still get him to pay her detour no mind. Men liked polite. “Oh? Does she garden?”

This made him laugh. It was a pleasant laugh - the kind that belonged to someone intimately familiar with the action, who found her question inexplicably amusing. “Saints, no. That would be quite the sight, though - my mother with dirt-stained hands, taking care of a living thing.”

While Y/N could empathise - her own mother was more delicate with her porcelain than with her children - she wasn’t about to discuss familial trauma with a stranger at three in the morning. So why was he? “I feel you are trying to make me guess who you are.”

“Well, as fun as that sounds, you could also simply… turn around. The joke will make much more sense that way.”

“But I am escaping,” she said, as if this was also very obvious. “It would be silly of me to show my face now when I still have a chance of getting away.”

“Is that what you are doing, escaping? Huh.” There was a rustle of fabric as he shifted in place, closer than she thought he’d been a moment ago. “Women don’t run away from me very often. What a thrilling change of pace.”

Y/N had to stop herself from snorting at this. For one, it was not very ladylike, but also, one did not go about mocking strange men with her back turned on them. She thought this one might just be egotistical enough to take it in stride, but she refrained from testing that theory out for now. “I’m glad I could thrill.” Her voice was bland, open to interpretation. Was she amused? Irritated? Disdainful. She hardly knew herself, and maybe that was the problem. “Are you going to stop me?”

“Would you like me to?” he asked, perfectly conversational.

If Y/N had had a drink to choke on, she would have. Instead, she forced her voice to stay even, and she shoved back that frustrated, sheltered part of herself that had always been bad at keeping her mouth shut. “A thrilling proposition, but one I will have to refuse. I’m keeping to a strict diet of sensibility these days, and none of that sounds very sensible.”

“Some would say that meeting Lieutenant Zaitsev at three in the morning isn’t a particularly sensible activity, but here we are. Minus Zaitsev, unfortunately.” He said the word unfortunately the way people did when they found very little unfortunate about a situation.

At this, Y/N spun on her heel, suddenly aware of the sound of rushing blood and the pitter patter of her heart in her throat. Prince Nikolai looked as pleased by this reaction as a cat would as it dug its claws into some poor, unsuspecting creature, or dipped its whiskers in a tub of full-fat cream.

And it truly was the prince standing in front of her, who had been standing behind her this whole time, and all Y/N could think about right now was that the joke did indeed make sense. Queen Tatiana did not seem like the type to take up gardening.

He was in his full regalia, as polished as he’d been earlier tonight - all shiny medals, crisp lines and the sort of lazy indifference that came with inherited importance and disarmingly good looks. She’d half expected the illusion of grandeur to dissipate this close to him, and at such an ungodly hour, but she instead found him more imposing this way, as impeccable as he’d been from afar.

She had to admit; she found that moderately irritating, amongst other things.

Y/N forced herself to stop gaping and lower her gaze, contrite. This, at least, she was supposed to be well-versed in. “My apologies, Your Grace. I didn’t recognise your voice,” she said, switching to Ravkan. She wanted badly to turn her back to him again, if only to hide the heat in her cheeks.

“How could you? I’ve never had the pleasure of speaking to you before tonight.” Y/N did not think she was imagining the subtle note of accusation in his voice just then.

Not that it wasn’t a fair point; she just did not like that he’d noticed it, that he’d noticed her. She had simply assumed there were enough girls being paraded around that her absence wouldn’t be noted, not until her parents finally lost their patience and shoved her at either prince, at which point she had intended to make herself terribly unamusing.

That plan, she thought, was already failing, if the amused way Nikolai was looking down at her was anything to go by. He had tipped his head to the side, eyes trailing along Y/N with the sort of intense curiosity she could feel burning against her skin. “No need to apologise. I’ve had enough performative politeness to last me a year.”

“Are you implying my apology was performative?”

Nikolai caught her eyes and smiled at the indignation in them. “I’m implying you’ve been avoiding me. The only thing you’re truly sorry about is getting caught tonight.” She had been right - he had the sort of mouth that lent itself to charming, easy smiles, the kind that made it hard to look away.

“That’s a bit presumptuous. Perhaps I’ve simply been avoiding everyone.”

“Well, I am a prince. One would assume this allows for some presumptuousness, at least.” He eased back against one of the smooth stone pillars, head tipped back, as he regaled her with a smirk. “Are you supposed to be shy? Is that it?”

Y/N scoffed. “I’ve run my mouth enough to know that playing that card wouldn’t work anymore.” She wasn’t sure what else to say but the truth, not when he looked at her like that. Too discerning for someone who was supposed to be used to unfettered, unquestioning admiration. People tended to take her downcast eyes and her rosy-lipped smiles as a given. She was sweet, deferential, a proper young lady. But Nikolai had handed her an accusation instead, and now she didn’t know what to do with it.

As if sensing her unease, Nikolai pushed himself easily off the pillar and made to step around her. “Yes.” There was an undue amount of proximity between them as he passed her, eyes trailing along her features, before he disappeared behind her back. “Pretending to be boring won’t work, either. I’m glad you gave up on that after two sentences.”

“Yes, I need to work on keeping my tongue in check,” she said, sullen. “How did you know who I was?”

She didn’t think Zaitsev would have told him, even if pressed - he feared his sister’s wrath far too much for it - and Y/N doubted he could recognise her from the back, especially in the deep dark of the conservatory. Yet there was something unsettling about the cavalier way he considered her question as he toyed with the flowers. Relaxed. In control.

“It’s in my job description,” he said, as if that might explain the overabundance of information on her. As if the Lantsov royalty were famous for taking their job seriously.

She bit her tongue and said instead, “Is it? I’ve heard princes have people for that. To stand behind you and whisper information over your shoulder.” Y/N could just imagine it now, a nondescript figure at Nikolai’s side, their voice low and quick. She is Braam’s brat. A member of the Council, and a rather powerful one. We might need him at some point, so play nice. Except she wasn’t yet sure if Nikolai was here to play nice.

He chuckled at that, an indulgent sound. “You’re not wrong, but I find those overbearing. They can be tough to get rid of when one wishes to slip away unnoticed,” he said, casting a glance over his shoulder. “I’m sure you can relate.”

She moved from her spot to follow him as he slowly made his way down the winding path, keeping a few paces back. “Well, mine usually know very little, but they are very good at keeping me from slipping away.”

“Yes, clearly they’re very good at their job.” He leaned in to smell an unnaturally orange flower, but Y/N caught the tail end of a smile on his lips before it disappeared behind a shadow.

“Oh, they are, but he left them back home. Wouldn’t want the Court to think I’m anything but obedient.”

He turned his head from her flower to look at her, flashing her a grin. “Can’t imagine why anyone would assume that.”

To be fair, Y/N wished there had been more disobedience to speak of in her record, but the prince didn’t need to know that. She was perfectly content with allowing him to assume the worst of her and did her best to look the part as she lifted her eyebrow. “Speaking of disobedience. Where is Eryk? I mean, Lieutenant Zaitsev.”

The hope was that once she put it that way, Nikolai would be free to assume all manner of less than savory things. Not an ideal outcome if you asked her mother, but a perfect one if you asked Y/N. I’m a headache, it was supposed to imply. So don’t bother with me. And Y/N liked to imagine there was some truth to that statement.

“Am I boring you that much?” Nikolai placed a hand across his heart, and Y/N hated herself for getting distracted by the way his fingers splayed across the medals, long and elegant, the snow white of the glove at odds with the deep blue of his uniform. “You wound me, Miss Braam.”

Oh good, she thought as she blinked and looked away from him in frustration. He’d glossed right over her innuendo - a modern man, just what she needed right now.

“It was not my intention, Your Grace. You are a delight,” she said dryly. Her problem was that it wasn’t really a lie - Nikolai seemed delightful, in a precarious sort of way. It was just not the sort of delightful that she could not allow herself to indulge in at the moment, and that she felt far too on edge to appreciate thoroughly. “He promised—”

Nikolai interrupted her, one gloved hand raised elegantly, as if he were used to people shutting up at a mere wave of his hand. Impressive, but Y/N found it rather annoying just how well it had worked on her, too. “I sent him away,” he said, stopping his walk to turn around and face her fully. “Alas, he obeyed. You’re stuck with me instead.”

Y/N felt the frustration that had been festering in her chest rise like the tide, choking out the words in her throat. She knew she had to keep it down, had to appear forlorn rather than irritated. A lover scorned, rather than what she truly was - simply annoyed by Nikolai’s snooping. She hadn’t meant to drag Eryk so deep into it, and she certainly didn’t appreciate the fact that this would inevitably delay her plans.

“Right,” she muttered, voice tight. She hoped she sounded the part at least, turning away from Nikolai to cast her gaze into the distance, worrying at her lip. She'd kept most parts of herself shuttered for so long now she couldn't will her face to remember the sadness.

She must have done something right, because Nikolai moved in the periphery of her vision, coming around to face her again. There were fingers on the edge of her jaw, the material of his gloves soft and runny against her skin. Not cotton, silk. Because of course it would be silk with him. She didn’t fight him as he gently guided her chin so that she was looking up at him and his gaze trailed along the planes of her face as if he were drinking her in. There was something so gentle and sympathetic about the curve of his lips then that she almost believed him. Almost.

“As lovely as you look in all your teary-eyes, heartbroken glory,” Nikolai said, the amusement in his voice bleeding into his eyes, into the corner of his mouth. He brushed his thumb across the dip of her chin. “I sincerely doubt you are anything of the sort. It’s that Ketterdam blood in your veins. Pragmatism above all else, no?”

And perhaps she only had herself to fault for this. She had been a bit too ready to play with him when he’d prodded, too quick with her words, too forward with her answers. Now, she couldn’t exactly roll it all back and pretend to be a lovesick fool. He wasn’t buying any of what she was selling, and she couldn’t fault him for it. She wouldn’t have believed herself either.

She sneered as she jerked her chin against his hand in a display of defiance, hoping for a convincingly withering look. “And is pragmatism an unfamiliar concept in Ravka? Quit playing with your food, Your Highness. This would’ve gone a lot quicker if you’d just told me what you wanted from me in the beginning.”

His mouth curved, a sort of satisfaction bleeding into his smile, as if he enjoyed nothing more than to see the facade crack. “Now that’s more like it.” His eyes slipped down, taking in the angry curl of her lip, the unrestrained clench of her jaw before he looked back up into her eyes. “Now where would the fun be in that, hm?” He was still looking at her as if he were observing a particularly riveting piece of art, one that might reveal some secret meaning if only you looked patiently enough. “Perhaps I didn’t want it to be quick.”

Y/N could agree with him on this - she did not think the youngest Lantsov wanted anything done quickly or haphazardly, especially when it seemed to bring him an undue amount of amusement. She tested the give of his grip - which was light enough that she thought she could easily bat his hand away - but he did not budge, their eyes still boring into each other. “Well then, perhaps I wish to rush it along.”

He chuckled, and she felt his breath brush against her flushed cheeks. “Do you, really?” His grip loosened, but she could still feel his fingers on her jaw, a ghost of a touch seeping warmth into her skin as he trailed them along the jut of the bone. “Leave then. I won’t stop you.”

When she didn’t move, he looked back up from his fingers to her eyes, gaze questioning. “Why, you’re a curious thing. Brought her to be paraded about the Court in the hopes of securing a marriage, no? But then you so diligently avoid both my brother and me.” His lips quirked, a shadow of a smile. “Strange. Can you blame me for being curious? For taking my time to figure you out?”

At any other time, the genuine curiosity in his eyes might have flattered her, even thrilled her. He was charming and handsome and slightly perilous. And she was supposed to be young and silly and unburdened by common sense. To have such singular attention of a prince pointed at her should’ve rendered her a blushing mess. But all she could think about right now was that he was the last person she wanted figuring anything out.

A change of plans, then. “Maybe that was the ploy all along? Have you ever considered that? Avoiding you, ignoring you.” She tipped her head to the side, leaning into his touch until she could feel the pressure of his fingertips grow heavier against her jaw. She tried to imagine herself as someone brazen, like it was a robe she could simply slip on. “It got your attention, did it not?”

He obliged her, his fingers slipping to cup her cheek, thumb brushing across the curve of her cheekbone. His eyes ran across her face and for a moment, she believed she almost had him. But he didn’t seem to have inherited any of that signature Lantsov foolishness. “I admire your talent for improvisation. Really, I do. It’s almost disarmingly charming.”

“But?”

“But, I’m not buying it. It would’ve been too risky of a plan. And unless you’re more arrogant than I am - which I doubt - I don’t think you expected anyone to come looking.”

If she hadn’t been so annoyed by him intercepting her every move, she might have taken this as a compliment. Instead, she narrowed her eyes, finally irritated enough to reach up and grab his wrist. The rich, thick wool of his uniform was rough beneath her fingertips, golden buttons digging into her palm as she pulled his hand away from her face. She hated how aware of him she was when she let go.

Nikolai let her, grinning delightedly at the sudden display of insolence, as if he’d been waiting for it from the start. “Not particularly gentle. I like that.”

“Fine. Let’s stop pretending to flirt then.” Because that is what this was - make believe. She thought she could see something more sinister lurking beneath it. He didn’t believe she was meeting Zaitsev for a moonlit tryst between forbidden lovers - which, in all fairness, was an entirely correct assumption. He didn’t think she was truly interested in him either - which was mostly correct. She was busy plotting, but not blind. Which had to mean he thought there was more to this, and which meant she was in trouble. She just preferred her troubles to be more forthcoming, and less charming.

“Who says I’m pretending?”

She levelled him with a look. “Please. How did you know when and where I was to meet Zaitsev?”

He watched her for a moment, chin dipped, his eyes unreadable in the darkness. She thought he might have been smiling, but it was hard to tell as he turned on his heel and strolled away. There was something languorous and insolent about the way he moved, like he was a study in effortless regality, the moonlight glinting off the gold details of his uniform, his hands clasped behind his back. If it was meant to unsettle, well… it was doing its job.

“Now that would be telling,” he said, voice playful. “And I like to keep an air of mystery about myself. It adds to the charm, I think.”

It would have added to the charm if that mystery hadn’t been immediately threatening to her and her plans.

“Fine,” she ground out. “Why care to find out about it at all? Why care to follow me? You could’ve assumed any number of more straightforward reasons for my disinterest. I want to be a nun. I have several lovers and no energy to take on more. I don’t believe in marriage, especially not to men I don’t know who also happen to have a reputation.”

“So, which one is it?”

“Maybe it’s all the above.” She lifted a brow. “I’d make a terrible nun.”

“Saints, I’m half in love with you already.” With a flash of a charming grin, he leaned against one of the giant tree pots and looked at her. “I told you. You never introduced yourself, and this charade has been going on for three nights now.”

“So your explanation is that your ego made you do it?”

“My ego makes me do great many things, dear Miss Braam. A character fault, I know, but no one’s perfect.” He didn’t sound remotely sorry about it. “So, what’s my reputation?”

Deciding they weren’t going anywhere soon, Y/N made her way to a stone bench that ran along one side of a small fountain. The waterworks were off for the night, leaving the water a motionless, dark mirror behind her. “Other than being disgustingly charming and well educated? None.” She sat down and continued, interrupting him before he could start gloating. “But you are handsome and intelligent, and that makes the bad things a lot easier to keep under wraps.”

He considered her for a moment, surprisingly silent in his contemplation, before dipping his chin once and strolling over to where she sat. “An astute observation. Some might call it cynical, but I suppose it’s fair, given the circumstances.” Y/N had half expected him to defend himself, but Nikolai simply smiled down at her, as if he’d read her mind. “So, other than general disappointment in mankind. Why are you avoiding me?”

“Well, I have a perfectly sensible explanation for that.” She said leaning back on her hands and tipping her head to her shoulder as she looked up at him. At least he was a pretty sight - she’d give him that. “My parents are tentatively hopeful—” There was absolutely nothing tentative about her parents; she was lying through her teeth again. “But I know better—”

“Of course you do.”

“Would you stop driving me up the wall for two seconds?”

Then Nikolai was laughing, and Y/N realised that all the other times he’d done it was only a good mimicry of amusement. This was the real thing. Startling and unrestrained, it left her looking up at the glass ceiling in faux exasperation, trying to hide her smile.

“Anyway. It’s the crown prince’s hand that’s on the table, right? And you said it yourself - we Ketterdam princesses are a pragmatic bunch. As nice as it sounds, I’m no royalty. So why waste my breath?” She shrugged. “Your kingdom needs political alliances, not my money. And if I’m debasing myself like a dairy cow at a cattle fair, I’d at least prefer to have a chance. I, too, have an ego.”

When she dipped her head back down, she realised Nikolai had been watching her from where he stood, playing absentmindedly with the buttons of his cuff. “From what I’ve been told, your father is a very rich man,” he said after a moment of consideration. “And I hear that sort of thing makes a woman rather attractive. Political alliances can be bought.”

“Oh, is that why you keep flirting with me? Does my father’s money make me so irresistible?”

“Well, that and the insolence.” He smirked. “But mostly it’s the insolence. Us Ravkans, we’re just not as pragmatic.”

“I can tell.” She smiled at him, unable to help herself, before dipping her chin to the side as she dragged her fingertips along the cold surface of the water. “Besides, I’m not too keen on being shipped off to a foreign kingdom, much to my mother’s dismay.”

This was a half-truth, but Y/N was well-versed in those. Yes, her mother was very much dismayed. No, Y/N did not mind being shipped away from Ketterdam. She just wished to do it on her own terms. But Nikolai did not need to know that - homesickness was much easier to believe than whatever truths she hid in her heart.

“Not even for a crown?”

She blinked up at him. When he looked at her like that, she thought she could imagine him as something plucked out of a children’s book. Like he might be a knight in one of those terribly depressing Ravkan stories about dead martyred girls. Like he might hold her body close to his chest and mourn over her in a field of poppies, impressive even in tragedy. She supposed then that she understood why all the girls flocked to vie for his attention once they’d done their duty of doting on Vasily. This, she thought, is what a prince is supposed to be.

“I have no interest in crowns. They seem heavy.”

“What is it than interests you then?”

Freedom. Agency. All things that were hazy and indescribable to her. She smiled up at him. “Now, that would be telling. And I like to keep an air of mystery about myself, too.”

“Fair,” he conceded, the amusement only a faint twitch in the corner of his mouth. He was standing over her now, looking down as she sprawled back on the cold stone. She could feel the fabric of his pants brush against her dress, where the silk lay across her knee, thin and insubstantial. She’d almost forgotten for a moment that she was supposed to be annoyed about her failed meeting, about his prying, about the ungodly hour and no bed in sight. Instead, she allowed herself to be thrilled for just a second, let herself be foolish. She’d been afforded so little foolishness in her life.

“Why were you meeting him?” he asked then, voice quieter and more serious than it had been at any point before. It was a proper question, she realised, not a provocation or a taunt. He wanted an answer, and she knew she couldn’t give it to him, not really.

“He has something I need.” Want. She’d meant to say want instead of need. The word sounded too raw for her liking, too close to admitting to a lack of control. It was more of a truth than she’d meant to offer him.

She pushed herself up to stand, and Nikolai shifted to the side to give her space. He was still close, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off his body, close enough that when she looked up at him, he could see the steely determination in her eyes. “Go on then, make your threats.”

His gaze slipped down to the stiff set of her shoulders, the way she curled her fingers into fists at her side, nails digging into her palms. He hummed, and she felt it reverberate in her chest. “I suppose I could threaten to drag you back to your parents. Demand an explanation?” He said it in such a way that it felt less like a threat than an offer. As if he’d meant to say, Is this what you’re asking for? But he looked like he found the mere idea of it repulsive, as if it were beneath him. She felt Nikolai dealt in charming grins and soft-spoken, elegant threats - dragging her to her parents must’ve seemed positively barbaric to him.

“Yes, I suppose you could.” She turned where she stood, so that now they were facing each other fully, inches separating them as she looked up. “I promise not to scream if you tell them you didn’t see who I was meeting with. Eryk’s done nothing wrong.”

He lifted a brow, a sinuous smile curving his lips. “Do you promise not to bite, too?”

Blood rushed furiously to her cheeks, indifferent to the fact that she was fighting desperately to keep her composure as she glared up at him. “I promise no such thing.”

He leaned in, almost imperceptibly, a look of terrible amusement in his eyes as he whispered, “Good.” Then he straightened back up, hands in his pocket, all graceful, unruffled confidence. “But I find those sorts of nefarious activities are better enjoyed when one is well-rested. Shall I escort you to your room? Make sure you don’t accidentally commit some act of treason on your way to it.”

She was careful to control her breathing, aware that she was one inhale too deep from being pressed against his chest. “Is that what this is about? You think I’m planning some grand act of treason with Zaitsev?”

“Well, you have that look about you. A bit insolent, a bit treasonous.”

“I thought you liked that.”

He made a soft tutting sound, looking deeply entertained by the defiant tilt of her chin. “Of course I like you. It doesn’t mean I will just let this go.”

“That’s not—,” she stuttered, blindsided by the matter-of-fact tone of his voice. “That’s not what I meant!”

“But you are blushing again.”

She hated this. No. She hated herself for not hating this nearly as much as she ought to. And she hated the fact he was aware of it, too. There was an uncanny perceptiveness to his eyes when he caught her gaze, something self-satisfied in the sinful curve of his smile. It was as if he could hear the jackrabbit flutter of her heart, could feel the restless warmth that spread across her skin.

“Enough, Your Grace. We don’t have time for this.” She hated how exasperation had bled into her voice, especially when Nikolai remained as calm and poised as ever, watching her. “I can hear the birds start their singing; soon, the servants will be up. Someone might see us.”

He held her eyes for a moment, silent, and she knew he was listening, that he could hear them too - the harbingers of dawn. It would be daylight soon. Then he nodded, a note of finality to his voice. “Very well. I’ll find you tomorrow. Threats are better when made over a glass of fine brandy, anyway.”

“No,” she said, too quickly. “Same place, same time.” She would never get a good night’s sleep.

But the damage was done. It must have been the high-pitched, panicked sound of that no, or the unguarded expression that flashed across her face. Whatever he’d seen, it made Nikolai shift his stance, gaze reassessing. “I will find you,” he repeated, then added with a smirk, “privately. Unless the lady prefers to save me a dance?”

“Why would I ever… oh.”

He was a picture of ease - shoulders loose, hands in his pocket - looking like he had all the time of the world. It made her overly aware of how locks of her hair had fallen out of her up-do, burdened with the late hour. Of how she pressed her shaky palm flat against her bodice, weary of its tightness. She envied him for his poise. She wanted to reach out and ruin it.

“Oh,” he repeated, smug. And he had every right to be - she would’ve gloated too if she’d been that efficient in finding just the right buttons to press. And he’d done it with such grace that part of Y/N was impressed against her better judgement.

Save me a dance. It was a threat, not a request.

She could almost see it now. Nikolai, impressive in his full regalia, strolling across the ballroom towards her, a picture of single-minded determination. A gloved hand offered and an upturned gaze, promising nothing but trouble. She would know it was all for show, that it was not real - but the Court wouldn’t. All they would see was a prince singling her out, boldly showing his favour, and out of the blue at that. She couldn’t think of a worse thing.

“That’s low,” she said, voice dripping acid. Inside, she was fifteen again, entirely out of her depth, her mother’s voice ringing in her head. Silly girl, she hissed. These are not the games we women can play and win.

“No, Miss Braam, it’s pragmatic. Simple. Elegant.” He would take her hand and spin her out of her carefully crafted obscurity, thrust her under the scrutiny while the waltz played. The realisation was a rope tightening around her wrists, binding her hands until all she could do was watch the situation spiral out of her control.

And he was watching her; she could feel it, but her mind was elsewhere as she turned away from him. The boning of her bodice making it hard to breathe, digging painfully into her hips. She felt along her finger for the smooth gold of her ring, and she spun it around. Once. Twice. Thrice. Breathe. Once more. You can figure this out.

“Miss Braam?” She heard him step around her, keeping at a respectful distance as he dipped his head to catch her eyes. She must’ve looked terribly pale for his voice to have suddenly softened. “No one will know, I promise. All I want to do is talk.”

“Oh, is that all?” she bit out, pinning him with a glare. “Well then, your will is my command. Right?” Gathering her skirts, she quickly lowered herself into a mocking curtsy, holding his gaze defiantly from beneath her lashes. Then she turned on her heel and marched for the door that led to the palace grounds, heels striking the ground with an angry staccato.

“That was not my intention—”

She ignored his voice and the sound of his boots behind her, focusing instead on tugging angrily on the wrought iron handle that refused to budge beneath her hands. She tugged at it again, a frustrated sound escaping her. “They are plants for Ghezen’s sake, not the Royal treasury. Is this truly necessary?” She reached up to pull another pin out of her hair, a lock slipping down to brush against her bare shoulder. Now she probably looked like she actually had been doing something terribly interesting, not just arguing in circles with an entitled prince.

“They are expensive plants,” he said from somewhere beside her. “Are you trying to pick the lock?”

“I do not try to do anything, Your Highness. How do you think I got in here before?”

She was just about to lower herself into a crouch when she felt his hand at her elbow, pulling her up. When she turned to glare at him, she found him dangling a bundle of ornate keys from his forefinger, eyebrow raised. “May I?”

It had occurred to her to refuse him on principle - but it was near dawn, and she had been trying to keep that stubborn, vindictive part of herself in check for a while now. This was good practice. She nodded and looked up at the glass ceiling, focusing on the deep, lazy stretch of the night sky beyond instead of the way his shoulder brushed against her arm as he came closer and unlocked the door.

“I hope you will reconsider my request for that dance at some point.”

She looked at him, incredulous. “You threatened me with it.”

“Yes, it is an unfortunate coincidence that the thing I wish for is the same as the thing that threatens you.” He held her gaze for a moment, a smile playing across his lips, before he looked down between them. Y/N followed his gaze reflexively, frowning when she realised there was a flower in them, so delicate and white that it almost blended into the silk of his gloves. “Since you don’t like the smell of jasmine,” he said and held it out to her.

Y/N stared, uncertain. Curiosity was a familiar, unrelenting beast inside her mind, and she decided she did not have the energy to fight it tonight. “What is it?”

“Gardenia. A personal favourite.” He waited for her to take it from his hand, then smiled at her. “Go. I’ll wait ten minutes and leave out the other door.” With that, he turned and strolled back in the other direction - unhurried, languid, and infuriatingly prepossessing. His voice carried over to her as he looked back over his shoulder. “Goodnight, Miss Braam. I look forward to tomorrow.”

For a moment, Y/N remained standing there, still reeling, before she forced her limbs to comply and stumbled out onto the grounds, desperate for fresh air. It was only then, and once her senses had cleared on her way back to her bedroom, that she realised he hadn’t lied about the flower. Its fragrance was a sweet, charming thing.

If later on she put it in a small crystal glass and placed it on her nightstand, that was only because she hated seeing flowers go to waste. And if her mind was full of its fragrance and the memory of Nikolai’s fingers running along the slope of her jaw, she blamed it on weariness and the uncontrollable nature of dreams.

[cyphyra]

Gardenia got a bit of a weapon upgrade in-campaign

[eyeaka]

— 𝓖𝙖𝓻𝙙𝓮𝙣𝙞𝓪

ᯓᡣ𐭩 — Sob a luz fraca do sol, eu ofereci a você uma flor branca. Quando toco seus dedos e mantenho você perto do meu coração, os brotos se transformam em flores.

Para mim, o Jungkook é como se fosse uma flor de Gardênia: puro, sincero, doce e simboliza o amor (sem ser proibido). Me trazendo paz e conforto apenas olhando para o mesmo.

Sinto sua falta todos os dias mesmo nunca tendo te visto pessoalmente, sinto falta de chegar em casa pela tarde e me deparar com uma notificação de live sua, ah Jeon, como eu sinto falta das suas lives.

Era como se eu me conectasse com você mais ainda, eu me sentia nas nuvens ouvindo sua voz, vendo você sorrir através da tela do celular, até te respondia e ria junto com você porque aqueles momentos para mim eram os melhores.

Eu te amo tanto, meu bem, e nunca vou me cansar de dizer isso, gosto de dizer isso para você, gosto de ter a certeza de que esse amor é recíproco e verdadeiro, gosto do jeito que eu me perco dizendo isso à você e como eu não me importo de repetir mil vezes se for preciso.

Saber que eu não me sinto desconfortável por demonstrar todo amor que sinto por você me faz ter mais certeza de que és a pessoa dos meus sonhos, quem eu mais estimo e desejo em todo o universo.

Você não sabe o quanto eu me senti feliz no dia 13.06, mesmo estando internada isso não me impediu de te ver! Eu fui atingida por uma explosão de amor e felicidade quando te vi na despedida do Jin.

Gostaria de poder te perguntar tantas coisas, como por exemplo, como você se sentiu naquele momento, que cicatriz nova é aquela no seu braço? por acaso você se machucou como? entre varias outras perguntas.

Mas naquele momento nada me importava a não ser a felicidade que eu sentia, ver todos os meus sete meninos juntos e ter ver sorrindo Jeon foi como uma flecha acertando meu peito.

Eu tenho plena certeza do quão feliz e aliviado você estava naquele momento, saber que você não estava naquela pressão do exercito e apenas aproveitando a companhia dos garotos que são como uma família para você.

Quero e espero poder ver essa expressão no seu rosto bem de pertinho e fora das câmeras, quero poder conhecer o "verdadeiro" Jeon Jungkook e poder ver todas as expressões que você pode fazer, ver seu cuidado, como você é apenas você.

Quero poder pegar suas mãos, encher de beijinhos o seu rosto e principalmente seu nariz, afagar seus cabelos e apertar suas bochechas até ficarem rosadas, rir até minha barriga doer e jogar videogame até o amanhecer.

Inclusive, sonhei com você, no sonho eu realmente beijava seu nariz e te via sorrir para mim como um bobo, mostrando seus dentinhos de coelho e sorrindo com os olhos primeiro. Quero poder ver essa expressão novamente, quero poder ver isso pessoalmente agora.

Eu poderia escrever para sempre e em todas as línguas, formas e jeitos o quanto que eu te amo. Espero que você esteja bem e se alimentando direito e que não demore tanto para que nos vejamos novamente.

Tenha um ótimo dia e desejo que os anjos possam cuidar e zelar se você sempre. Não vejo a hora do ano passar, mal posso esperar para te ter de volta.

Me perdoe por não ter cumprido minha promessa de tentar não demorar de vir aqui. Eu te amo para todo o sempre, meu único e grande amor.

ʚɞ — Gardenia, seus olhos inocentes, eu adoro tudo neles. Eu vou te levar, te abraçar e nunca mais te deixar ir.

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

(just ran across this excerpt from a future chapter of one of my WIPs; it actually makes me feel somewhat better about my writing & makes me want to share it too)

She Wore Gardenias In Her Hair

a Stephen Strange x Female Reader Wedding Fic

(excerpt is from Stephen’s pov)

‘No veil for this breathtaking, blushing bride’ he had thought, covering his heart with his right hand as he took in the sight of you. Instead of silk tulle, delicate lace or formal organza, you wore two pure white gardenias in your lush, dark hair, one behind each ear--and Stephen would retell the story of his first sight of his beautiful bride on their wedding day exactly so, in the many years to come, always adding, ‘It seemed only right for Nature’s beauty to adorn her. Nothing made by the mere hand of man or woman would have suited her more perfectly.’

work-in-progress: chapter one | chapter two | chapter three |

Pet Names (naughty one-shot)

[kirisaki-daichi-scenarios]

Hello hello

I hope you're having a nice day ❤️

Can I please ask for some relationship hcs with furu, under what circumstances you think he would fall for someone, what the further relationship would look like etc. I'm in a fluffy mood so please, include some cute content (I mean, as cute as it can get with him, it can have unsettling undertones haha).

Please save me from the torment of not being able to accept any other way of writing him than yours.

Thank you in advance 🦭

i reckon the best route for him to meet someone, fall for them and vice verse, and have a good relationship would be if he met them outside of school/uni

someone who knows him only as “man who tuts as he walks past the florist because he doesn’t think they’re looking after their gardenia optimally” or “quiet, but always very polite, customer at the library who only ever checks out cookbooks on baking and the most gruesome thrillers and neo noir”

you consider him quirky but kind

and the more you get to know him, the more that becomes quirky, kind, and surprisingly funny on the rare occasions he makes a joke, always deadpan. and then quirky, kind, funny, and even more surprisingly thoughtful and considerate when he catches you on a bad day. 

basically, furu’s one of the good ones.  

i feel like the relationship would stay platonic for a long while

furu doesn’t have much interest in pushing it into becoming romantic - as much as he does like you, he’d much rather continue having someone to talk to, especially when that someone’s you, than risk it all by taking the relationship in a different direction

you’d have to be the one to make the first move

even when you do, a lot stays the same

you’re still two pals sat at a cafe discussing the state of affairs, what books you’ve been reading recently, what recipes furu recommends for an amateur baker, coming up with plans for how the two of you are going to kidnap the florist and hold them ransom as revenge for the gardenias they keep killing 

furu’s not a pda type, nor is he touchy-feely. even something like holding hands won’t be common in the relationship, especially not when in public. 

the big tell that you’re his no1 is how much more talkative he is with you, and how much more aware he is of your emotions, compared to those of others

i’ve probably brought this up on other furu hc posts, but furu’s love language is 100% gifts/acts of service

bringing you your own flowers (in a pot, with strict instructions on their care), baking you bread and sweets (and then going on a tangent about how bad the processed stuff people buy in stores is for the body), and so on

he might sound like a real pain at times, but he means well

he’s basically like gokushufudou’s main character: 50% organised crime, 50% threatening people’s lives and polishing knives, and 100% about taking care of his s/o

[fanflames]

HC QUESTION FOR THE DASH: what does your character smell like? their perfume or body wash or their surroundings or just their natural scent? do they smell strong or weak? ifyou want, describe it like a fancy perfume!

[niklenakle]

I ran out of tags before i could list all the rune factory girls im really sorry ill do better next time...

Hello, tumblr user. Before you is a tumblr post asking you to name a female fictional character. You have unlimited time to tag a female character, NOT a male one.

Begin.

[kawowoa]

do you like malice mizer

is grass green (yes)

[moonlightwritingf1]

Wedding Night | LN4

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ summary ━━━━━━━ Lando and Y/N shared their first night as husband and wife, their love unfolding in soft, unhurried touches.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ word count ━━━━━━━ 4.6k

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, unprotected sex, soft sex

Based on this request.

Moonlight spilled through the windows of the centuries-old Italian villa, painting soft silver streaks across the plush cream carpet. The air was still thick with the lingering scent of gardenias and white roses, a delicate reminder of the wedding that had just taken place. Y/N stepped inside first, still wearing her gorgeous wedding gown, though she walked more slowly now than she had all day. The bustle of the reception had ended, the guests had gone to their nearby accommodations, and there, in the quiet hush of night, she and Lando were finally alone.

He closed the door behind them with a soft click, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You realize,” he said in a hushed tone, “that this is the first time we’ve been truly alone all day.”

She laughed gently, leaning back against one of the carved wooden bed posts. “I know. I feel like every time I turned around, someone was trying to talk to us, take a photo, or push another glass of champagne into my hand.”

Lando advanced toward her, and her breath caught in her throat. The day had been long—joyful, intense, and thrilling—but now the air seemed charged with a different kind of anticipation. His dark suit jacket was still on, the fabric slightly rumpled from the evening’s events. 

Lando gently brushed his knuckles along her cheek, an affectionate gesture he had come to do so often in the past three years. “Are you okay?” he asked softly, his voice warm with concern and tenderness.

She opened her eyes, meeting the sea-green gaze of her new husband. A timid, excited smile curved her lips. “I’m perfect,” she whispered, stepping forward so she could rest her forehead against his. “But I’m also exhausted… in a good way. I still can’t believe this is real.”

Lando chuckled under his breath, the teasing spark that always danced in his eyes visible once again. “You better believe it, Mrs. Norris,” he said, letting the last two words hang in the air. He grinned when he noticed the faint flush on her cheeks. Even after everything, she still got shy whenever he said her new name.

She tried to look away, biting down on her bottom lip to stifle a bigger smile. “I’m still not used to hearing that,” she admitted.

“Well, you have a lifetime to get used to it.” His voice was warm, edged with quiet amusement. Instead of kissing her, he tilted his head slightly, letting the moment linger between them. Her gaze drifted downward, landing on his tie, which hung loosely around his neck—a familiar sight, one that carried memories of whispered goodbyes and hurried, stolen moments.

He followed her gaze and gave a small laugh. “Want to do the honors?” he asked, a teasing lilt in his voice.

Y/N flushed but nodded, motioning for him to step closer. Carefully, she began to loosen the tie from around his neck. Her knuckles brushed his throat, and she felt his pulse thrum under her fingertips.

“You know,” she teased, glancing up into his eyes, “I’ve done this so many times, but never as Mrs. Norris.”

A shiver of delight lit up his gaze. “Has a nice ring to it, huh?”

She swallowed, nodding. “It really does.”

His hands came up to gently rest on her waist, and a faint sigh escaped her lips. Outside, a nightingale trilled somewhere in the villa’s gardens. The music that had swirled throughout the day was gone, replaced by their own quiet breaths and the soft rustle of her gown as she shifted.

“You look breathtaking,” he murmured, stepping back an inch to take her in. The white lace and satin of her wedding dress still hugged her figure perfectly, though the train was slightly wrinkled from hours of dancing and walking around. “I can’t believe I got to see you walking down that aisle.”

She smiled shyly, remembering how his eyes had glistened with emotion during the ceremony. “I was so nervous,” she admitted. “Not because I was unsure of you, but just… the whole day felt so surreal. And now it’s over, and we’re actually here.”

Lando reached up, his fingers slipping into her hair with deliberate slowness, threading through the intricate twists and waves. He didn’t rush, just let his touch linger, savoring the feel of her beneath his hands. “Well, now we have tonight,” he murmured, his voice warm and low, “and every other night after that. But let’s start with tonight, yeah?”

She closed her eyes as his fingers brushed through her hair, reveling in the warmth that swept over her. “Mmm,” she murmured, “I’d like that.” She opened her eyes and gave him a soft smile, filled with love.

Y/N closed her eyes again as his finger tips slid gently into her hair. Pin by pin, he removed each hidden bobby pin and decorated comb. Occasionally, he would pause, carefully pulling out a pearl-tipped hairpin that made her wince slightly when it snagged on a few strands. Lando would whisper a soft apology, pressing a kiss to her temple and carrying on. It was slow, sweet work, and it made her shoulders loosen with every piece he freed.

Eventually, her hair tumbled down in soft waves around her shoulders. He ran his hands gently through it, smiling as he massaged her scalp. “There,” he breathed, admiring the sight of her with her hair out and her wedding dress still glowing in the moonlight. “You look so gorgeous.”

She rolled her eyes playfully, cheeks aflame, unable to handle just how fully and unabashedly he adored her. “You say that like you didn’t see me in my dress all day.”

“Call me greedy, but I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of it,” he teased, leaning in for another slow, tender kiss. “But as much as I love this dress on you…” He paused, letting his fingers trace the intricate lace at her shoulders. “I’m also incredibly eager to get you out of it.”

A bubble of laughter slipped past her lips. “Oh, Mr. Norris,” she teased back, doing her best to summon confidence. Even after all their time together, sometimes it still felt surreal that this charming, successful, impossibly handsome man was hers. “Think you can figure out how to get me out of it?”

Lando glanced at the hidden zipper. He gently turned her around so he could examine the elaborate array of tiny buttons that ran down the back. “Well… it might take a while,” he said, a slow grin spreading over his face. “I’m up for the challenge.”

She laughed, remembering the many times they had navigated zippers and tiny buttons over the years of their relationship. “I trust you haven’t forgotten your technique,” she teased, turning around so he could work on the hidden row of buttons trailing down her spine. “But do be careful—I don’t want you ripping the dress. My poor mother might have a heart attack if she heard.”

He pressed a playful kiss to the back of her neck, setting her skin alight. “Don’t worry, I’m still the same man who’s mastered the art of carefully getting you out of complicated outfits.”

Carefully, Lando’s fingers began working on the delicate row of buttons. It was fiddly and complicated, but his patience never wavered. He trailed tiny, adoring kisses down the back of her neck, across her shoulders, and along her spine whenever he managed to open another inch of the dress. Each time, she shivered. The warmth of his breath, combined with the electric sensation of his lips, shot tingles of anticipation through her body.

It took him a few moments of concentration. Every so often, one stubborn button would make her giggle as he struggled, and he’d lightly bite his lip in mock frustration. But eventually, her dress loosened around her torso. She shrugged her shoulders and let it slip down to her hips.

Lando stepped to her side, letting his hand graze from her bare shoulder down her arm in a comforting stroke. He’d seen her body countless times before; they were anything but strangers to one another in that aspect. Yet, the tenderness in his eyes made it feel like the first time all over again.

He noticed the slight stiffness in her posture. Her arms instinctively crossed over her chest, an old habit she’d never quite shaken. Gently, he placed his hands on top of hers, uncurling her arms. “Hey,” he said softly, sliding his palm against her cheek to angle her face toward him, “look at me.”

She blinked, looking up, her eyes laced with a hint of vulnerability.

He leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her lips. “I love you,” he said, voice serious despite the smile playing on his lips. “All of you. Every inch of you—always have.”

Y/N’s throat constricted with emotion. She remembered the days she thought she’d end up alone, the times she firmly believed no man—especially one like Lando—would genuinely want her. And yet here he was, the man she once viewed as a charming playboy, revealing his true heart day after day.

She nodded slightly, letting him slip her dress the rest of the way down. He caught it before it hit the floor, placing it carefully across a chair so it wouldn’t crumple. When he turned back around, she stood there in her simple white lingerie, light shining on her warm skin. His gaze was filled with adoration.

“You’re breathtaking,” he said, reaching out to trace a slow circle along her waist. “I can’t believe I get to call you my wife now.” He exhaled softly, his gaze roaming over her. “Every part of you… I’m honestly a little overwhelmed just looking at you.”

“Overwhelmed?” she echoed, a quiet laugh blending with her disbelief.

He smiled back, smoothing his palms over her waist and up along her ribs, stopping just under her breasts. “Yes, overwhelmed,” he repeated, leaning in so his lips brushed against hers. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted. I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

Her heart squeezed at his confession. Remembering the times she doubted his intentions, or believed that he’d never truly settle down, it all felt distant now. “I love you,” she murmured. She was still shy; the difference was, now that they were married, she felt a deeper sense of belonging and trust.

He pulled her closer, pressing his chest to hers. The contact was a slow burn, warmth radiating from his body into hers, as though they were made to fit perfectly together. Y/N let her hands roam over his well-fitted suit jacket, fiddling with the single button he still had fastened at the waist.

“I think it’s my turn,” she teased, leaning in to brush a kiss on his collarbone, right at the base of his neck. She slid her hands up to push his suit jacket off. He let her do it, an amused glint shining in his eyes. She lingered, removing his cufflinks and sliding them onto the bedside table, then carefully unfastening the first few buttons of his shirt.

Her cheeks grew warm as she revealed inch after inch of his chest. Lando’s breath caught a little when her fingers grazed his skin. His voice, husky with desire, found its way back to her ears. “All these years and you still make me nervous,” he said quietly.

He let out a self-conscious chuckle, remembering the time he’d told her exactly how he felt on a quiet evening in London. How the mere thought of her had made him lightheaded. How he couldn’t get her out of his head, no matter how many races he won or how many practice laps he took. She was always there, the one person who truly saw him for who he was beyond fame. And, ironically, she was the one who had tried to push him away at first.

“Because…” He swallowed, pressing his forehead to hers once again. “I just want to make this night unforgettable. You… you deserve everything. Not just tonight, but for the rest of our lives.”

Y/N smiled against his lips, her fingers finally managing to peel his shirt away. She let her hand glide up his bare torso, feeling the soft planes and gentle ridges of muscle beneath her palm. “You’re here,” she reminded him. “That’s all I need.”

His warm laughter vibrated against her, and he lowered his head to kiss the tender spot at the base of her throat. “I’m so in love with you, it’s ridiculous,” he said, a grin brightening his features. “Now, wife… shall we make it official in every sense of the word?”

A wave of heat passed through her, and she nodded shyly. It was one thing to do this after three years of dating—intimate moments had come before, though they always seemed laced with a sense of wonder. But there was something profoundly different about sharing the first night as husband and wife, a sense of newness glowing between them. It felt both thrilling and comforting, like stepping into a future they had carved for themselves despite every obstacle.

They navigated their way toward the large four-poster bed draped in sheer white curtains. Candles flickered on the nightstand, their golden light giving the entire space a dreamlike aura. Lando helped Y/N onto the mattress as if she were the most precious thing in the world, pressing a kiss to her hand before stretching out beside her.

She let her eyes linger on him—the signature smile, his messy curls, the strong line of his jaw. “Can you believe we’re married?” she whispered, brushing a thumb across his cheek. “Like… actually married.”

He pressed a kiss into her palm. “It’s the best decision I’ve ever made,” he responded, voice thick with emotion. “I can’t wait for tomorrow, and the next day… and the rest of our lives.”

She exhaled a laugh of relief, burying her face into the crook of his neck. “I used to think you’d never want to settle down. I used to think… that you didn’t even like me.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Me? I’ve loved you since the moment you walked into that party and refused to laugh at my jokes,” he teased. “I’ve always teased you, but only because you’re so darn cute when you get riled up.” Then his tone softened. “If only I knew sooner how you felt… how insecure you were about us. I would have spent every second assuring you.”

She blinked back tears. “You’ve done a great job of reassuring me. I just… I guess I never thought you’d want something so permanent.”

He cupped her jaw, guiding her gaze to his. “I want permanent,” he whispered, a little breathless. “I want you.”

She felt the prickle of tears behind her eyes and brushed them away with the back of her hand. It was ridiculous how deeply in love she was with him, but after all the heartbreak and all the doubts, she had never been so certain of someone.

They kissed slowly, at first just a tender press of lips that slowly deepened. His hand ran down her back, tracing small circles. She let her body melt into his, feeling the tension of the day slip away. Her bare skin was flushed and tingling, but there was no panic this time when he ran his palm over the curve of her waist to the arch of her hips. She felt safe, cherished.

Their kisses became more fervent but still measured, each move a deliberate exploration of the warmth and closeness they now got to call theirs forever. She brushed her fingers through his curls, pulling him closer, her heart beating wildly as she let herself sink further into the mattress.

He paused only to hover above her, pressing his forehead to hers once more. “Any second thoughts?” he teased gently, though there was a hint of earnestness in his tone.

“Not one,” she replied, pulling him in for another kiss. She loved the weight of him, the way his breath hitched as she curled her leg around his hip. The soft hum of approval in his throat sent a delicious thrill through her body.

Lando’s lips brushed down her neck, feather-light and deliberate, sending shivers cascading through her body. God, he knew exactly how to make her melt. His breath was warm against her skin, and she felt his teeth graze her pulse point—just enough to make her gasp. His hands slid down her sides, his fingers tracing the curves of her hips as if he were memorizing her all over again. She arched into him, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it.

Her breath hitched as his lips trailed lower, skimming the delicate expanse of her collarbone before finally reaching her chest. He paused there, his warm breath brushing against her skin, and she could feel the weight of his gaze as he took her in. “You are so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire. His lips captured one nipple, and she let out a shaky moan, her fingers tangling in his curls.

Y/N couldn’t wait anymore. The tension had been building all day—hell, all year—and now it was too much. “Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “Please… fuck me already.”

He chuckled softly—that same playful, teasing laugh that always drove her wild. “So impatient,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her chest as he spoke. “We’ve got all night, Mrs. Norris.” But even as he teased her, he was already moving, his hands sliding up her thighs as he shifted back to kneel between her legs.

He stood up briefly, his eyes never leaving hers as he unbuttoned his trousers and slid them down his legs, followed by his boxers. His cock sprang free, painfully hard, and she couldn’t help but bite her lip as she watched him. He was so beautiful, so perfectly hers, and the thought made her chest ache with emotion.

Lando leaned down again, his hands sliding under the waistband of her thong. “Let’s get these off,” he said softly, his voice thick with need. He slipped the delicate fabric down her legs, tossing it aside before letting his gaze roam over her. His eyes darkened as he took her in, and she felt a flush creep up her chest at the intensity of his stare.

“Why did you stop?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He smiled, reaching out to brush his fingers along her inner thigh. “Just… let me look at you,” he said, his voice low and reverent. “I can’t believe you’re really mine.”

She squirmed under his gaze, her thighs pressing together as she fought the urge to close her legs. “Lando,” she pleaded, her voice breaking. “Please…”

He didn’t make her wait any longer. He hovered over her again, his body pressing into hers as he kissed her deeply. His hands cradled her face, his touch so tender it made her chest tighten. She felt the tip of his cock brush against her entrance, and she let out a soft whimper, her hips arching toward him.

“Is that good, baby?” he murmured against her lips, his voice rough with need.

“Yes,” she breathed, her hands clutching at his shoulders. “Please, Lando…”

He smiled, his eyes softening as he looked down at her. “I need to make love to you tonight,” he whispered, his voice filled with emotion. Slowly, he pushed into her, his movements deliberate and unhurried. She gasped, her nails digging into his back as she felt him stretch her, fill her completely.

He started slow, his thrusts deep and steady, each one drawing a shaky moan from her lips. His eyes never left hers, and the intensity of his gaze made her feel like she was the only person in the world. God, he was so gentle with her, so careful, and it made her chest ache with how much she loved him.

“You are so good to me… so good,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

He leaned down to kiss her, his lips soft and warm against hers. “And you’re perfect,” he murmured, his breath mingling with hers. His hips moved in a slow, steady rhythm, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through her body. She could feel the way he was holding back—how careful he was being—and it only made her love him more.

She was a moaning mess, her nails dragging down his back as she clung to him. His name fell from her lips in a breathless whisper, over and over, and he seemed to savor every sound she made. “Lando,” she gasped, her eyes fluttering shut as she felt the tension building inside her.

“Look at me,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. She opened her eyes, meeting his gaze, and felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. He was so tender, so loving, and she couldn’t believe that this man—her husband—was finally hers. Forever.

She started to tear up, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of the moment. “I can’t believe this is real,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

He kissed her again, slow and deep, his hips never faltering. “It’s real,” he murmured against her lips. “You’re my wife now. And I’m never letting you go.”

She felt the tears spill over, but she didn’t care. She just held onto him, her body moving with his as he made love to her with a tenderness that left her breathless. “Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I love you.”

He smiled, his eyes soft as he looked down at her. “I love you too,” he murmured, his voice filled with emotion. “More than anything.” His thrusts grew a little faster, a little harder, and she gasped, her hips arching toward him. “Is that good, baby?” he whispered, his voice rough with need.

“Yes,” she breathed, her nails digging into his back. “Yes, Lando…”

He kissed her again, his lips soft and warm against hers. “Good,” he murmured, his voice filled with emotion. “Because I’m never going to stop loving you.”

Lando returned to slow, measured movements, letting the moment stretch between them like something sacred. He moved inside her with a rhythm that was unhurried, deliberate, like he was memorizing every inch of her body all over again. His thrusts were deep, each one slow and steady, pushing her closer to the edge while still holding her there, suspended in the warmth of him. She could feel the way he savored every moment—pressing into her with tender care, pulling back just enough to make her ache for him. His hands slid up her sides, his fingers brushing over her ribs, his touch so soft it made her shiver.

“God, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire, “you feel so... soft. So perfect.” His breath was hot against her neck, his lips grazing her skin as he spoke. He tipped his head back for a moment, his eyes closing as he sucked in a sharp breath. “I can’t believe you’re mine. All of you... like this... mine.”

She whimpered, her nails digging into the muscles of his back as she arched into him. The way he moved inside her was almost unbearable, his pace so slow, so deliberate, like he was trying to stretch every second into an eternity. She could feel every inch of him, every breath, every heartbeat, and it was too much and not enough all at once.

“Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling, “I can’t...” She trailed off, her words dissolving into a broken moan as he pressed deeper, his hips rolling against hers in a way that made her body sing. “God, you’re... you’re so good to me... so good.”

He chuckled softly, his lips brushing against her collarbone. “And you’re... fucking amazing,” he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. He leaned back slightly, his eyes locking onto hers, and she could see the way he was holding himself back—how careful, how deliberate he was being. His hands slid down to her hips, his fingers gripping her tightly as he pulled her closer, his thrusts still slow, still deep.

Her breath hitched, her chest tightening with how much she loved him. She could feel the tears building again, her eyes stinging as she looked up at him. “I can’t believe this is real,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I can’t believe we’re... here... like this...”

He smiled, his eyes softening as he looked down at her. “It’s real,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. His thumb brushed along her hip bone, his touch so gentle it made her heart ache. “You’re my wife, Y/N. And I’m... God, I’m so in love with you.”

She choked on a sob, her hands reaching up to cup his face. “I love you too,” she whispered, her voice trembling. Her palms were warm against his skin, and she could feel the way his breath hitched when he leaned into her touch. She pulled him down for a kiss, her lips soft against his, her heart pounding in her chest.

He kissed her back with a tenderness that made her chest ache, his thrusts never faltering. His hands slid up her back, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. She could feel the way his body trembled against hers, the way his breath came in shaky gasps. But he was still so careful, so slow, as if he was scared of breaking her.

“You feel... incredible,” he whispered, his voice trembling. His hips moved faster, his thrusts deeper, and she could feel the tension building inside her. She was so close, so close, and she could see it in his eyes too—the way he was struggling to hold on.

“Lando,” she gasped, her fingers tangling in his curls as she pulled him closer. “I’m so close... please...”

He moaned low in his throat, his thrusts quickening just enough to send her over the edge. “Come with me,” he whispered, his voice rough with need. “Please, Y/N... come with me.”

And she did. Her body shattered as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her, her nails digging into his skin, her lips parting in a silent scream. She could feel him tense above her, hear his sharp intake of breath as he climaxed too, his body shuddering against hers. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his lips brushing against her skin as they rode out the waves together.

When it was over, when the world had righted itself again, he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. She could feel the way his heart raced against her chest, hear the way his breath came in shaky gasps. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, his lips lingering for a moment before he finally spoke.

“You’re my wife,” he murmured, his voice filled with wonder. “My wife.” She could hear the smile in his voice, the way the weight of it seemed to settle over him. “I love you so much, Y/N. More than anything.”

She smiled, her eyes fluttering shut as she pressed her face into his chest. “I love you too,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. His arms tightened around her, and she could feel the way his body relaxed against hers. She sighed contentedly, her heart still racing as he pressed another soft kiss to her hair.

His hand brushed over her back, his fingertips grazing her skin as he tangled his legs with hers. “Sleep,” he said softly, his voice warm and filled with tenderness. “We’ve got forever, you and me.” She nodded, her eyes closing as a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. His arms tightened around her, and within moments, everything melted away in the quiet comfort of the night.

[k-hotchoisan]

the scentist

<san x fem!reader>

Your neighbour—Choi San—is such a gentleman on top of being a complete hunk and smelling so fuckin good. Especially so when he offers his hoodie when he sees you being drenched. Well, nothing could come out of such a simple gesture of kindness, right?

Genres/Warnings: perverted & obsessed scentist!San, Olfactophilia (sexual arousal from scent), masturbation on clothing, oral (F receiving), unprotected sex, cumming untouched, armlock (light) breeding, pussy drunk San💙

💙 @san-network 💜

Taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @voicesinmyhead-rc @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess @interweab @mylovelymito @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee @ywtf @jeon-ify

A/N: WE BEEN KNEW THAT I’D LEAVE MY FAVOURITE MAN FOR THE LAST!! 😮‍💨 don’t be sad that this event is ending ok,, we got more to cum come 🥰 thank u for giving my fics so much love as always!!

🩷back to staying perverted

Lavender. Sweet pea. Azalea. Gardenia. 

The scents of the florals fill his lab, something he’s so used to already. As the concoction bubbles, he walks over to the other flowers potted along the shelf, pressing the petals against his nose, taking in their smell before he pulls away. He pulls off his goggles, walking over to his desk, staring at the standing whiteboard, filled to the corners with flower names, chemical compounds, and other miscellaneous details. Even though he’s doing fine, he feels that something is missing. Choi San feels stale and stuck. 

The rain is pattering down heavily against the pavement, he stares at the raindrops hitting the leaves of his plants. San often gets compliments on how beautiful his plants are, and how natural he is at gardening. San would don his signature smile and he would thank them for the compliment. Sometimes, his neighbours would come by to ask for gardening advice and San would gladly entertain them. This evening was no different. Another one of his neigbours who was growing greens had wanted to express appreciation by buying San his favorite fertilizers. Stacking them neatly in his cabinet, San then decides to head down to the reception to receive his parcel. 

Fuck. The downpour was so sudden. It totally caught you off guard, and you were drenched before you realised it. You make it to the entrance of your apartment complex, shivering slightly from the air conditioning. You shake off the excess water off your arms, and when you look up, your heartbeat quickens—your apartment complex crush is standing at his letterbox, filtering through his mail while he holds a parcel in his arms. He’s in a grey hoodie, and for some reason, it makes him look big, and it’s driving you insane. Shit, shit, shit. You pray that he doesn’t turn around and see you.

“Hey. Good evening y/n”, San greets cheerily. You force a smile, “Good evening San.”

San has his eyes on you, and you swear he’s eyeing you down—probably judging you for being drenched and shit. 

“Looks like you reached back just in time”, he teases, and you pout. 

“I feel like a drenched dog. Is this how dogs feel after a shower?” You reply, brushing your hands through your wet locks, all in an attempt to stop yourself from staring at San laugh—his voice is hypnotic enough to make you melt into a puddle already. The cold air from the air conditioning hits you once more, and this time you’re beginning to shiver uncontrollably on top of struggling to open your damn letterbox and not looking like a circus in front of your crush. 

You focus on fidgeting with your letterbox keys, your fingers reaching out to snatch the letters. When you close the latch, San has his hoodie unzipped, and he’s removing said outerwear. 

“San, what are you-“

He’s about to hand you the hoodie, but he instead opts to put his parcels in your hands, and he fucking fits the hoodie around your shoulders, and when he does, his smell floods your senses. He smells like a mix of floral—with hints of spice and citrus, and although for a brief moment, you have it locked in some part of your brain. His fingers brush against yours as he takes his parcels and letters from you, and it doesn’t help that he’s in a black shirt that hugs his biceps, shoulders, and chest a little too well. You barely muster the strength to peel your eyes away, feeling your heart flutter when his fingers brush against yours as he retrieves his packages back from you.

You look up, hoping that the fluorescent lights don’t highlight the heat that’s rushing to your cheeks. You’re still shivering, but suddenly you don’t feel as cold as before. 

“Thank you, San”, you smile. “I’ll wash it and return it to you ASAP.” San smiles in response and the both of you walk to the lift together, light conversations and laughter filling the spaces as your body and your heart gradually warm up.

San is exhausted—he’s been at the lab back to back, drafting report after report, and it’s been taking chunks out of him. Palm against his neck, he tilts his head, shutting his eyes as he stretches his neck, and then he sighs. His superiors finally approved his reports and now he has the god-given chance of going home and catching up on his sleep for the night.

The muffled sounds of his doorbell stir him up from his sleep. He doesn’t shift for a couple of seconds. Then his hands shift across the bedsheets to feel for his phone. The doorbell sounds a couple more times and San grunts in his groggy state, his fingers hitting against the edge of his phone, which he pulls closer to him to check the time.

It’s 2 pm. He crashed for 14 hours last night. 

He slowly sits up, letting his sight adjust to the afternoon sun filtering through his windows before he walks over to the front door. He’s slightly grouchy from the amount of sleep he clocked in, but as he swings the door open, the remainder of his sleep dissipates when he sees that it’s you standing before him.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you up?” You ask, rubbing your neck. “I wanted to return you this..”, you bring up a paper bag to San’s view. San is still registering this.

“But you weren’t home for the past couple of days, and I don’t have your phone number..” 

San blinks. Then his hands reach out to take the paper bag, and his eyes glance downwards. 

Ah, it’s his hoodie. 

He looks up back to you. “Thank you. Don’t tell me you’ve been coming here every day to try to pass me this?” 

“Yes and no..?” you answer with a smile. It spreads to San, who suddenly feels a shot of guilt for making you come to his unit when he wasn’t even there half of the time. 

“I’ll treat you to dinner for the trouble I’ve put you through”, he says hastily. He thinks the way your eyes widen and how pink is flushing at the tip of your ears is so adorable, and then he cuts you off before you attempt to decline his offer, “Pass me your phone.”

The phone in your hand is in his now and he types in his phone number before he hands it back to you. 

He leans in slightly closer, and there is a particular scent that slowly starts to make its way to his brain. Is it coming from you? For some reason, he hasn’t been able to get it out of his head since the day he lent you his hoodie. And there it was again, faint, but it was definitely there.

“Is there anything else I can help you with, y/n?”

He’s almost disappointed when he sees you shake your head, but at the same time, he has lab work to do, so he shuts the door after he sends you off with a smile, not knowing that you omitted that you wore his hoodie a couple more times after washing (mostly due to the cold weather).

He drops off the paper bag on his bedroom floor before he heads off to his home lab.

Unfortunately, the extra 14 hours of sleep still doesn’t spark inspiration for his chemistry, and he ends up spending barely an hour in his lab, mostly tending to his flowers, before he decides to call it a day. 

San is back in his bedroom, and he decides to unpack his hoodie from the paper bag. His hands reach into the bag and retrieve the hoodie, and when he unfolds the hoodie, his mind immediately hazes at the scent coming off the garment. Fuck. It’s even more prominent. It’s the scent that he can’t get out of his fucking head, and now it’s pretty much in his hands. 

You smell like fucking heaven, San thinks, placing the outerwear under his nostrils once more, inhaling, the smell completely entering the crevices of his mind. He groans and curses at the way his erection is pushing against his pants just from your fucking smell. It’s more than just the detergent you use—it’s so much more intimate and intoxicating than that, and it’s undoubtedly driving San fucking crazy. He’s so sure that this is the scent that he’s been chasing after.

San walks over to his bed, comfortable on the mattress while he pushes his pants past his thick thighs, his cockhead pushing against his underwear, forming a dark and wet spot. He inhales shakily, teasing himself, the precum thickening and staining more of his underwear. It doesn’t take him long to kick off his sweats and underwear completely, letting his cock spring out with a relieved sigh, before he slowly starts fucking his hand while his other hand has his head filled with your pheromones. 

The thought of you on that rainy evening, the way the rain had drenched your white shirt through, your bra showing, cupping your tits so fucking teasingly. San wonders if you did it on purpose because he would have just ripped your shirt open right then and there. His repressed fantasies begin to bubble up—the thought of him inviting you to his unit instead, letting his hands feel you up, making sure your goosebumps are from his touches rather than the cold because he swears he can warm you up quickly. He would press himself against you, taking in your scent, before he’d slip his hands underneath your pathetic white shirt, cupping your tits, then sliding your pants off—he knows he can’t even wait till the both of you reach his bedroom—the furthest the both of you would go? The fucking couch.

Your smell floats, and it’s dragging him deeper and deeper. San bucks his hips against his hand, soft moans pouring out his lips, whining your name against the fragrant garment, his precum turning thicker by the minute. He’s liked you ever since he met you when you first moved in, and now you’re filling up every part of his olfactory senses. He’s desperate to fill you up with him, make sure you’re holding your shirt up with your teeth, your eyes filling up with tears as he slams his cock into your warm pussy, over and over, forcing yourself to stay quiet so the neighbours don’t hear.  

Fucking hell. San’s thighs shake slightly at the thought of it. He takes another inhale, and it’s like a dopamine reset once more, perfect at the moment when he’s bringing himself to the edge. Your voice echoes in his head, the pretty sounds you’d make, the expressions that he would indulge in for himself.

Thick streams of cum bubble from his silt, and he almost suffocates himself from the sick pleasure of burying his face in his hoodie drenched in your scent, he catches his breath as the scent slowly fades when he pulls the hoodie from his face, panting from an orgasm that he knows will never be enough one time. 

As San washes off his high in the warm showers, he decides to attempt to recreate your scent, wanting to keep it all for himself. And he knows just a hoodie isn’t gonna be enough.

You’ve been flipping your apartment upside down, looking for your panties. At first, you didn’t notice that one pair went missing—chalking it off as you misplacing your laundry. But when the second one you swore you dropped off in the fresh laundry hamper disappears, along with a third, you realise something was amiss. You retrace your steps—you did have a couple of people over recently, but the majority of them were your girl friends, if you minus off how you and San have been going over to each other’s places for meals ever since the both of you exchanged phone numbers. Undoubtedly, your feelings for him have grown exponentially, especially when the both of you spent time with each other in (almost) close proximity. San had always been polite and helped around with cleaning up the dishes, and he had a very endearing habit of leaning in closer to you—whether to just tease you or to hear you better—it would never fail to make you act flustered around him before you would roll your eyes and push him away. 

Needless to say, the relationship had blossomed since that rainy evening. You just didn’t expect to grow so close with your apartment complex crush, and while there were nights where San’s face, San’s voice, San’s body would bubble up to the surface when your orgasms washed over you, leaving you squirming and shy once the post nut clarity hit, you thought to yourself that the relationship between the both of you was good enough for now.

You scratch your head, racking your brains as to where your panties might have magically disappeared to. You’re lost in thought until the ping from your phone brings you out of it. You go over to check, and it’s from San—reminding you of dinner at his place. Right, the panties can wait for now. 

“I hope I’m not late”, you smile as San opens the door for you to let you in. San returns it, “No, I just placed the order. It’s gonna take awhile.” 

You take a seat on his couch. No matter how many times you’ve been to his place recently, you always feel that it’s still so spacious. 

Then he breaks your train of thought. 

“Is there something you’d like to do while waiting?” You let your eyes wander around his apartment again, and they land on the potted plants on his window sill. 

Your eyes dart away from how San is staring down—his body is facing towards you, giving you his fullest, and it’s making you slightly self-conscious. 

“I’m wondering what you’re always so busy with.”, you say. You’re ready to be rejected when San doesn’t answer right away. Right, it’s probably something personal to him too. But you can’t help but overthink when he doesn’t reply immediately sometimes. It makes you feel so childlike. 

He stands up, gesturing you to follow him. “It’s a little embarrassing”, San replies as he guides you to the tightly shut door. He presses his fingertip onto the keypad—it lights up green and San pushes the door knob down, and the door pushes open. 

It is as if it is another world. The lights are dim and the air is a lot cooler, albeit slightly more humid thanks to the myriad amount of plants littered around the room. He has so many species—differentcolours and different flowers. The scents hit you next, the floral scent floating around your nostrils at different intensities. 

“A whole nursery?” You exclaim, walking near to some of the flowers. 

“Yes and no. It’s more of a lab”, San corrects you, walking over to the heavy desk just full of lab equipment. “Sorry, it’s kinda messy.”

You shake your head, still taking in the sight of his botanically busy room, amazed. 

As you near more of the equipment, the scents grow stronger. The whole lab smells so fragrant, and you’re surprised that it’s not overpowering, to say the least. 

“So, what do you do here exactly?” You ask, taking another whiff of the fragrance while staring at the rows of test tubes before you. 

“I make scents. It’s just a side hobby of mine on top of my research”, San explains. He picks up a test tube and gestures you to take a whiff, and so you do, pleasantly surprised at how much the scent smells just like him. 

“Then what’s your little project now?” 

San pauses. He doesn’t look you in the eye for that split second. As he parts his mouth to answer, the doorbell rings, and it jumps him out of his thoughts. The food is here. 

Seated across San, as you always do, San is plating the takeout while you prepare the utensils. The topic of his lab comes up again, but you completely forget about asking about his projects.

Midway through the conversation, the rice cake that you were trying to eat somehow slips off the utensil and drops onto your clothes, causing you to jump in surprise, somehow toppling your plate with the leftover sauce, on top of staining on your clothes, much to your dismay. 

“Shit”, you curse, casting an irritated glance at the splatter on your clothes. The plate clatters on the floor. You stand there, slightly dumbfounded at the situation. You’re wondering if you should just head home to change out, considering that your unit isn’t too far from his. But before you have the chance to bring up that suggestion, San cuts you off.

“You can drop your clothes into the washing machine. In the meantime, you can borrow my hoodie. It should be on the clean laundry hamper.”

“San-“

He turns to you with a comforting smile. “It’s fine. Rice cake sauce isn’t the easiest to clean off when you leave it for too long. I’ll clean up the floor.”

You realise arguing with him isn’t work out in your favour, nor will it get the rice cake sauce off your clothes any quicker, so you decide to heed his words and head to his room.

Undressing yourself once you shut the door, you drop your soiled clothes into the washing machine. It was then you realise that you are pretty much naked, in Choi San’s fucking bedroom. Struggling to keep your head out of the gutter, you decide to focus on finding that damn grey hoodie. Your eyes scan his room, trying to search for the grey hoodie. And your eyes land on a thick-looking piece of garment on one of the laundry hampers. You walk over to pick it up.

You put his hoodie over, and there it is again—the spicy citrus smell. Choi San’s smell. Your thighs push against each other a little tighter this time. Then something in your peripherals catch your attention—a lace garment. You inch closer, and your heart drops. 

It’s a pair of lace underwear. 

Fuck. Is he seeing someone and he didn’t tell you? A thick lump forms in your throat. 

And then it goes away when you start picking up another two more panties from the hamper, and the realisation hits you like a fucking truck—these are your fucking panties. 

Things are not adding up in your brain, that’s for fucking sure. 

At that moment, San bursts into the bedroom, and a panicked expression scribbled across his face. His eyes are blown wide open when they land on the three pairs of panties in your hands. 

You stare back at him, almost mirroring his expression, the only difference being confusion for you instead. 

The corner of San’s lips pull into a half smile. “Oops.”

“San, what’s the meaning of this?” You ask, feeling your face flush rapidly. 

“Well”, San pauses. “you asked what scent I’m making next right? It’s yours.” 

“My scent?” You echo back in question to him. San sighs, his shoulders relaxing as he inches closer to you, trapping you underneath him when you finally hit his bed. 

“Yes, darling. Your scent”, his voice almost turning into a whisper, dropping octaves lower. “You’re so cruel—keeping something so intoxicating to yourself.” 

You swallow hard. San’s eyes still reflect his usual gentle demeanor, but now it’s slowly being tinted with something else. Something more ominous. Despite that, it only draws you in, like a prey being slowly hypnotized by her predator. You should be shocked, terrified even, but the only thing streaming through the nerves of your brain is the internal begging for San to just eat you up right now. 

You suddenly realise that the hoodie isn’t zipped up, the outerwear slipping down your arms. You remain still, your heartbeat slamming against your ribcage. 

“You can run out of my apartment now. I’m giving you five seconds”, San tells you, and your mind is spinning at the thought of him even giving you a chance to leave. 

Five seconds pass. You’re still staring up at the male above you, whose lips are curling into a satisfied smirk. 

His fingers cup your jaw, and he tells you, “Open up.” Sparks splatter across your eyelids the moment his lips collide with yours. You pull him closer on instinct, the feeling of his thick erection behind the two layers of fabric sending you into an orbit on top of his tongue teasing yours. He pulls back, licking off the strings of saliva between the both of you. His gaze is locked onto yours.

“Please? Let me taste you. I promise I’ll make you feel so fucking good”, his request sounding more like a beg. Your mind is hazy. Choi San? In between your fucking legs? You swallow hard, and then you nod. 

San lowers himself to your clothed cunt, his eyes shut in bliss when he presses himself against your pussy. 

“Heaven”, is all he mutters, his eyes casting you a glazed expression that was definitely about to drive you fucking insane, before his fingers pull against the waistband of your panties, slipping them off you. 

The moment you feel his tongue press against your pussy, your mind threatens to shut off. San is breathing heavily against your soaking pussy, taking in the sight, taste, and smell of what you’re finally giving to him. Every time your thighs jerk to shut at the sensation of his tongue licking you up, his hands push you open for him forcing you to take his tongue in your cunt, and it’s wiping out any remaining rational thoughts you didn’t even know you had. 

Your fingers tug against his scalp, pushing your hips deeper onto his tongue, your back arched from how fucking good he feels. His tongue is lapping you up, teasing your clit over and over again once he hits the sweet spot, his fingers leaving imprints on your thighs when he hears you whine and moan his name. 

All San can think about is how fucking amazing you taste—he knew it would be another fucking level than pressing his nose against the fabric of your panties and fucking into his hand for the past few weeks, but actually letting you fuck his face? He’s on fucking cloud nine. 

His glazed-out eyes shift to look up at you, watching the way you’re squirming under him, the sounds of his wet tongue fucking you, tasting you, echoing around his room. Your cream and pussy are the only things he can register, and he wants to keep it for himself, forever.

“S-San-“, you cry out, your mind just threatening to blank out at every flick of his tongue. He’s building your orgasm at such a dangerous pace, and tears are pooling at the corners of your eyes when you feel something funny bubbling at the pit of your stomach. “I think I’m gonna fuck-“

“That’s it. Let it go for me. That’s a good fucking girl”, San encourages, before his tongue presses against your clit, giving you another lick before white washes over you, your cunt pulsing violently against his tongue from the sheer pleasure, then clear fluids splattering onto San’s pretty face—who seemed unfazed, considering he’s still lapping your cunt up, while you’re almost thrashing above him as the overstimulation starts to sink in. Your moans sound like cries when you beg him to stop. San doesn’t relent, and he only stops when he suddenly whimpers, switching over to kiss your thighs, decorating your plump flesh with love bites. He pushes a finger in, letting you stain and coat his fingers, enjoying your whines before he pulls out and towers over you. 

“Fuck, if I’d known you’d taste this good, I would have stolen your panties sooner”, he mutters, cleaning his fingers with his tongue, desperate to taste you again.

You’re catching your breath from going through the most mind-blowing orgasm, watching San pulling his shirt over his head, and then slipping out of his sweats, your breath caught in your throat when his fat cock comes into view, thick and heavy, and covered in thick cum. 

San’s fingers curl around your neck, and he lowers himself to litter kisses across your neck and jaw, it’s giving you goosebumps, your arms automatically wrapping around his neck to pull him closer. 

He pauses right at the shell of your ear. 

“I want to wear you over and over again. I want to lock you up in me—bottle you up so I can keep you for myself.”

“Then do it. I’m here for you to dip into your pretty little fantasies in, San.”

You swear you see something snap in the poor male, especially from the way he takes a deep inhale—shakily— before he parts your lips with his, leaving you breathless when your little steamy make-out session ends. 

“You don’t know what you do to me, darling”, San cautions when he pulls back. His hair is tousled but fuck, he still looks so fucking good. “And I’m not stopping even if you’re screaming.”

Fuck. 

He fucks his hand, soft sighs leaving his lips, as his cum dribbles down his length, before he lines up to your hole and pushes in easily. 

You hear him groan above you, your eyes are fixated on the way he’s losing himself in your pussy, and your mind is finally growing blank the more his cock fills you up. He’s stretching you open so fucking good, filling you up to the hilt. 

“You’re squeezing me so much, darling. Fuck. Are you fucking kidding me?” His eyebrows are scrunched, his hands holding your legs up while he lets you adjust to his cock. 

But he doesn’t warn you before he starts moving, his impatience completely overriding any ounce of rationale he has left in him. 

“So good. San, you feel so fucking good”, your moans sounding like cries whenever his hips snap against yours, the obscene sounds only adding to the tension. 

“You take me so fucking well, darling”, San’s voice is ringing in your ears. “Look at your fucking pussy just swallowing me up like that.” 

You don’t even reply to that, your eyes are rolled to the back of your head, and your head is somewhere in fucking heaven where San is definitely fucking you into. 

Just when you feel that you were about fucking fall apart on his cock, he pulls out, and you barely manage to catch your breath when San instructs you to turn over. You do, your ass up for him, and he enters your cunt once more, before fucking into you from the back. You don’t fucking know how, but you swear that his cock feels even thicker from the back.

His hands press against your hips, fucking you deep before he lets his hands slide down your body and he stops at your neck, gesturing you to look up at him as he leans down to press his lips against yours—all while rearranging your guts from the back. 

He lets you pull back when you feel your neck is growing sore, and then he puts his body weight onto you, his arm tucking underneath your neck. 

“Such a good fucking girl for me. You feel so fucking amazing”, San whispers, tickling every crevice of your brain as he presses his nose against the curve between your neck and shoulder, his thrusts turning more like ruts. The arm lock around your neck isn’t cutting off oxygen thankfully, but the thought of him choking you out only drags you closer to your high. 

“Cumming, I’m cumming San-“, you whimper, tears trickling from your eyes from how much his cock is constantly hitting in such deep fucking spots of your pussy. 

“Me too, babe. Gonna fill you up so nice and good, that’s what you’d like, right?” San teases, his cock twitching in you before he groans, his warm cum filling you up so good right at the same time your orgasm hits you once more, making you squeeze even more cum from San, perfectly milking him dry in your pussy. 

“So fucking perfect”, you hear San mutter, and you can’t help but flush, even though he just fucked every ounce of sanity out of you. His lips trail down the nape of your neck, his eyes are locked onto you, hazy and tinted with a hint of a growing obsession you could never tell. 

He’s not letting go of you. 

[farkleysparkley]

O my god bro BEEN WAITING FO THIS QUESTION (Prolly long post)

Ight so got múltiple different worlds n characters that betta organised in my head than they use to be, (Dunno if that a good thing fo me) but the main one i working on called Jammin Jaysi n The Junebugs (JJnTJB 4 short).

It centered around a band call The Junebugs, it originally take places on earth w most of earths similarites, but later the Junebugs travel to different planets w the help of the Rad Space Act (TRSA or RSA).

They prefrom concerts on all different planets to all different aliens, robots, mythical creatures, n more!! to eventually find Jaysis dad

(Some Characters got weird/silly name on purpose) They got alotta things to them but this described in short

Jammin Jaysi: A creative n imaginatve guy who often get lost in his own thought, sometimes being unaware of the world around him. He really feel connection to art n music, tryna fill that hole in his life n find the lost part of him. He like making people around him feel comfrotable and like they belong, after being bullied fo things he not able to control his whole life.

Giana Gardenia: A bubbly, positive woman who pretty smart n knows alot about various topics that interests her. She very friendly n loves doing things fo the better of other people, sometimes at her own expense.

DJ Long Locks (Who i still debating wether or not to be actually a Dj): A quieter, reserved dude who gotta soft spot for writing n listening to music. He pretty chill, but it difficult fo him to show his emotions in the way he want, especially considering his upbringing.

Yezi Pretzel: A slightly mischevieous girl who like dancing n hanging out w her friends. She a lil bit bossy but usualy not to extreme degrees, she really cares about her friends but got different ways of showing it.

Sazer Amazer: A kinda hotheaded woman who often misunderstood by her peers as being jaded n always aggressive. However, she pretty physically skilled, w a green belt in karate and partook in many sports, as well as physically n emtionally strong n secure.

Mae Jae Mariposa (Who not actually part of the band, but somebody they meet along the way who usually stick w them n help them around: A lab grown, biolumenescent, green (or blue) butterfly w a laid back n chill demeanor.

Also got otha more minor/supporting characters that Planning to add like Mother Long Gone, Speedy 20, robot cheerleaders, Don Polytherese, Solar Flair/Flare, Lemonface, Iron Ray, Danita & Rosita, as well as different n varying types of aliens n background characters (Gotta soft spot fo backgroundcharacters dunno why). Also some characters i aint revealing yet until after i done w the project!

Sorry fo all that blocks of text but really Been wanting to get this out there, genuinely thank u so much yo!! Fo bringing it up

Tell me about y’all ocs and the universe they live in im interested.

Doesn’t have 2 be bahlk can be anything!!! If u have arts of them I would like to see :)

[thearchvillain]

gardenias. | nikolai

part II (part I)

nikolai lantsov x reader

summary: the setting is a grand event hosted at os alta with the intention of finding a future queen for crown prince vasily. the reader is a merchant's daughter trying to keep a low profile after her parents had dragged her there (against her will) with the hopes that she might catch the prince's attention. she, on the other hand, has different plans. plans that get entirely upheaved by none other than the younger prince nikolai who interrupts her illicit late-night meeting in the winter garden. now she's caught attention of one of the two people whose scrutiny she'd been trying so hard to avoid for the last few days of the event and she's not entirely sure she actually minds it.

preview: He held her gaze for a moment, hardly moving a muscle himself, before he spoke again, his voice firm. “No games. Remember?” The huff that left her might have been a chuckle, only completely devoid of any humour. She stared down at him for a moment, eyes glassy and tired, like it had all just caught up to her and she was finally crumbling. “I almost believe you. I think it’s the face. It’s a kind one.” Her eyes searched his face, clinical, like one would observe a painting of him on the gallery wall. “Or maybe you’re just handsome.” “Why, thank you.” He offered her his best attempt at a self-assured smirk and decided it fell flat. Even his ego was dampened by the moment, which was a feat in itself. He sighed. “What did they do to you?” “Is that a rhetorical question?” Kind of. “Do you want to answer it?” She shook her head. “Then it was rhetorical.”

word count: 3.4k (compared to 5k in the 1st part this is tiny)

pinterest 📸

tropes/warnings: not cannon, adult language

a/n: well, this is like a year too late to the game, but i could not get it out of my head. keep in mind that pieces of information and explanations are left out intentionally, we are only aware of what nikolai is aware of (which is not much, as he'll come to find out) and yes, i might have engineered some ✨drama✨ to bring them closer together emotionally, so we don't all get stuck on surface attraction and vague suspicions

nikolai's POV

If one imagined the Court to be an organism - which was not a hard thing to do, given how reliably it behaved - then the whispers of its courtiers were the lifeblood, coursing steadily through its golden vessels. And if rumours were a sickness, then one could hardly be surprised to see them spread to every last corner of this monstrous creature as quickly and reliably as a plague would. Which was very quick, indeed.

Nikolai had hardly managed to get his hands on a plate of some highly garnished and questionably nutritious food before the whispers reached him. It was not a particularly subtle affair, as these things rarely were, and Nikolai had a sneaking suspicion this was entirely by design. He didn’t think he imagined that the ladies had been standing a bit further away just a moment ago, and he knew with certainty that as far as whispers went, these could hardly be classified as hushed. They made a show of leaning in and raising delicate hands to their lips, but it was the eyes that betrayed them - sharp and quick, glossy with excitement, and slipping surreptitiously in his direction as if to check if he was listening. He was.

And if he took his overly-decorated food elsewhere in the garden, then the mill would start all over again, like a broken melody. She does have that look about her. Her poor parents, they’d say, but Nikolai did not believe their pity. It was, he thought, just a well-aimed knife. Hush, someone’s mother reprimanded, voice sharp, her mother’s right there. But by the looks of her, Nikolai doubted it was anything Mrs Braam hadn’t heard before. She sat, straight-backed and completely devoid of colour, at one of the wrought-iron tables set around the palace gardens. There was an abandoned tart on the plate in front of her, forgotten and replaced by the glass of brandy she gripped with a shaky hand, and next to her was an older Kerch woman who was valiantly attempting to drown out the whispers with conversation. Nikolai averted his gaze, unwilling to participate in this cruel charade.

But when his gaze landed in the distance it caught, as if on a shard of glass, on the pale green silk of her dress. Around her, a few ladies and their handmaids had formed a tactical formation of sorts, attack dogs in the finest silks, their eyes sharp and vaguely threatening. If even one of them caught someone staring, they’d turn in unison like hounds that scented blood and stare them down into submission, then turn back around and smile sweetly at Miss Braam, as if nothing had just transpired. Nikolai was therefore very careful to look only when one of them was taking a shot with her mallet, lest he meet the end of one of those glares.

And so he watched her in increments, like a series of paintings of an obsessed artist - the twist of her body as she swung her mallet, the errant lock of her hair cascading over her shoulder, the lovely twist of her smile when the ball went through the hoop. The fourth time he looked she was leaning on her mallet, watching the girl in purple take her shot, and he realised she had her mother’s eyes and none of her pallor. There was a brush of colour high atop her cheekbones so that in her green dress she looked like a maiden of spring, vivid in her liveliness. If she was concerned with the gossip, she did not show it. And when she caught him looking the fifth time, she met his eyes the same way she did last night in the greenhouse, steady and unflinching. And then she smiled.

_____________________________

She was smiling again when she entered the library in a flurry of silk later that afternoon, her voice light as she called out to the librarian, “Have you found it?”

Nikolai flipped a page, eyes skimming the blueprints and the calculations, and waited for her to notice him. If it was a bit theatrical, he blamed it on the boredom and not the fact that her irritation was a source of great amusement for him. And he knew before she even let out an annoyed huff, that she was bound to be irritated by his ploy.

“Your Highness.” Her voice was even, though it seemed to require not an unsubstantial amount of effort to keep it so. “I didn’t know you were using the library.”

Nikolai flipped another page and looked up at her only long enough to offer her a smirk. “No need to play coy, Miss Braam. I’ve sent everyone away. We’re alone.”

“Wonderful,” she said dryly and shut the door behind her, pressing her back against it. Nikolai allowed himself a private, self-satisfied smile. If she had been so keen on getting away from him she could’ve simply walked back out, but she hadn’t. “And I presume you were also the one that sent someone to tell me the book I was looking for was found?”

“Catching on quick.” Finally, Nikolai shut the book he was perusing and looked up at her. She was wearing the same dress she wore to brunch, the colour a muted jade in the soft, warm shadows of the library. And when he looked up to her face she had her eyebrow raised, like a school-teacher that had caught him staring. Nikolai offered his best boyish smile. “You look lovely.”

“Oh, shut it.” It was not the response he usually got, but he was still amused as he watched her turn her back on him and start fiddling with the lock. He had half a mind to ask if she was blushing again but she jerked that pin in place with such ferocity that he decided against it. Besides, it was answer enough.

Instead, he said, “And a personality to match it.”

She checked the door once, then jerked it again for good measure, and finally when she was satisfied that no one could enter and catch them speaking, she turned around and levelled him with a look. “Careful, I might decide to be polite and bore you out of your mind.”

“You’d combust.”

She pursed her lips but did not deny it. “What do you want?”

Nikolai uncrossed and crossed his ankles again, sinking deeper into his sprawl across one of the chairs that were neatly arranged around a long table, his gaze following her as she made her way towards him. “Only the pleasure of your company.” Then, his voice gone low and serious, he continued, “That, and to ask how you were doing — after the brunch, I mean.”

“Oh, that.” For a moment he saw something cross her features, a look of startled confusion, as if she hadn’t quite expected him to ask, or at least not in such a way. Or maybe he was just imagining things because next he knew she was propping her hip against the table and looking distinctly unconcerned. “As any scandalous woman - basking in the attention, utterly debauched.”

He must have frowned or made some sort of unstudied expression because suddenly she was laughing at him and using the brief moment of confusion to lean forward and steal the book from his lap. She smelled like something sweet and flowery, like a late summer afternoon.

There was a tone of playful accusation in her voice as she said, “So they did find the book.”

He ignored it. “You don’t seem particularly upset.” It was hard to tell if it was a statement or a question, but even Nikolai could not push down the bewilderment that coloured his words.

Y/N, to her credit, didn’t seem to mind his confusion. She moved one of the chairs and sat on the edge of the table, legs crossed, the book open across her lap as she ran her fingertips along one of the blueprints. “It would be quite counterproductive to be upset,” she said conversationally, flipping a page, “given that I’ve started the rumour myself.”

Slowly, Nikolai eased himself back into his chair, allowing the confession to settle over him, eyes never quite leaving her. He could tell from the too-casual way she flipped the pages that she was very much aware of his gaze and very intent on pretending she wasn’t.

He lost his patience after she flipped the fourth page. “How?”

She stroked the edge of the book fondly, like it was a pet or a lover, and took her time with flipping the page before she deigned to answer him. “I made sure to be seen sneaking into my room last night. Then I told one of my maids to talk about a handsome lieutenant she’d seen sneaking around the place at roughly the same time.” She flipped another page and sighed happily at whatever she saw on it. “Anyway, I figured someone would piece it together into a scandal sooner or later. By breakfast, the story was that we were seen together, and by brunch, well…” She looked up at him and smirked. “I’ll spare you the lurid details.”

Nikolai was rather proud of the way he didn’t wonder about the lurid details and instead focused on the matter at hand. “Why?”

“I wish to spare your princely sensibility.” She was flipping the pages and ignoring him again, though he could tell she was thoroughly amused by the game she was playing from the way the corner of her lip twitched slightly.

He drew a furtive breath in through his nose and closed his eyes to steel himself against the taunts. He was not fifteen anymore, he could hold it together. “No, I meant why in the name of Saints would you do that?”

“I do very little in the name of Saints or Ghezen these days, Your Highness.” Nikolai did not doubt that. She let the book fall open on her lap and leaned back against her hands, watching him thoughtfully. Then she shrugged and said, rather matter-of-fact, “I told you I bite when cornered.”

“Yes, but I didn’t think that meant you’d bite yourself.”

There was something vaguely unsettling at the way she smiled at him then. A woman cornered, a desperate snap of the teeth, a final show of defiance. Her voice was oddly flat in comparison as she said, “An animal will chew its own leg off to be free.”

For a moment, all Nikolai could do was stare. It occurred to him only then that the two of them seemed to have in mind two vastly different versions of last night’s events. He felt that on an intellectual level, this was quite a jump from the playful threat he’d left her with last night. His hands gripped the armrests, but he could not feel his fingertips, and for a minute he seemed to be overly aware of the blood rushing through his ears and the steady beat of his heart. He could not hear his stumbling thoughts over the sound of it.

Then he heard himself say, as if from far away, “Is that what you think of me? That this had been my intention?”

“I think,” she said, having gone very still where she sat, “that I’m not going to play your game.”

The air between them shifted, growing raw and strange as if someone had cast a strange spell over it. Belatedly, Nikolai realised that this was not the question he’d truly meant to ask, but he also knew that she wouldn’t have answered it either way. Not when her spine was so rigid and her fingers white-knuckled where she wrapped them around the edge of the table, not when she looked at him carefully as if half-expecting him to lash out. What are you so afraid of? He’d meant to say. But he thought she might not know the answer anyway, or that the answer would simply be everything.

Slowly he reached up to rub his face, careful not to shift from his spot and startle her. Then he leaned his head back against the backrest of his chair and observed the point where the tall shelves met the ornate ceiling. The silence between them felt like being underwater, still and suffocating.

“Okay,” he said after a while, to no one in particular. Then he drew a breath and looked back down at her. “Alright. No games.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.” He was looking at her down his lashes, head still tipped back, his voice carefully bland. She looked like she might object, so he continued, “So let me just make this clear. You attempted to shoot your reputation to pieces because you thought that would stop me from approaching you tonight?”

She hid her uncertainty like a snake hid its legs, but Nikolai saw it flash briefly across her features before she pressed her lips together and stared him down. “You and the others. But mostly you, yes.”

“You lashed out without thinking, didn’t you?”

A muscle feathered in her jaw, but she kept looking at him, tenaciously stubborn. If she was afraid of him still, she did a very good job at hiding it. Which, Nikolai thought, was a pattern. “What does it matter?” she asked, defensive.

“It matters because I didn’t think you’d go about it so self-destructively. And that’s on me.” He pushed himself up from the chair, a bit too quickly, and regretted it the instant he saw her flinch. He froze for a moment, allowing the uncomfortable feeling of it to wash over him and fuel his determination, before he turned away and headed for the door. “I’ll fix it.”

“What? No.” From somewhere behind him he heard her produce a high-pitched, panicked noise followed by the sound of her feet scurrying across the library. By the time she caught him, he was two-thirds of the way out. “Stop. No. Nikolai!”

As he felt her fingers dig into his wrist he thought, quite obtusely, that her hands seemed deceptively delicate from afar. Then he voiced the very next, stupid thing that came to his mind. “Is that all it took for you to call me by my name?”

She tugged at his wrist for good measure, clearly frustrated, then let go when she was sure he’d stopped attempting to leave. “What will you do?” she ground out after a moment, her breath quickened. Nikolai knew that if he reached out to touch the inside of her wrist again he’d feel the same panicked flutter of her pulse. He held back.

“I’ll discredit the source. Which shouldn’t be hard since your sources are pitifully unreliable.” He shrugged, falling easily back onto his confidence. “Or I’ll simply tell them all to shut up.”

“That’s not how that works.”

“Isn’t it?” He smiled down at her, amused by the way she had planted herself firmly between him and the door as if he couldn’t simply go around her. “Just trust me. I’ll make it go away.”

“Well, that would entirely defeat the purpose of why I did it!”

It took an astronomical amount of effort for him not to laugh, though by the look she shot him the amusement must have slipped past his defences. He looked at the door above her head and did his best to collect himself before he answered. “Don’t say I didn’t try to spare your feelings.” He lowered his gaze back down to her. “But I would have asked you to dance even if they called you the whore of Ketterdam. So it was a moot point anyway.”

He noted again, the same way he had last night, that her blush seemed to creep up on her quickly and that it started not on her cheeks, but below, as a smattering of colour just beneath her collarbones. It rose like the tide, but she did not let him see it reach her cheeks, and instead let out a frustrated sigh before going around him. Nikolai turned to watch her as she went back to the table and threw herself down into the chair, sullen and rosy-cheeked.

“So the bottom line is that I have no choice?” she said eventually, looking up from her hands, her voice thin and tired.

Nikolai’s amusement melted into confusion. “What?” He’d miscalculated, again.

This seemed to frustrate her further because she shot him such a vicious glare that he nearly flinched from it. “Oh, don’t play stupid. You’ve got me cornered. Either I confess or you throw me out into the limelight tonight. Is that what you want to hear? That you win?” Whatever energy she had poured into this display of ferociousness seemed to drain her completely, because in the end she just slumped back into the chair and closed her eyes. “Fine then. You win.”

Nikolai just stared at her, confused, and it was a while before he remembered that he had use of his limbs and that he could just walk over to her. He did so slowly, cautiously, like one would approach a snared animal, before lowering himself into a crouch in front of her. “Hey Ketterdam?” She did not respond. “Look at me.”

She seemed so fragile then, eyelids fluttering with the effort to keep them closed, the skin thin and so translucent that he could see the bluish outlines of the fine vessels beneath it. Nikolai had no idea how she’d extrapolated all that from their conversation, but he suspected she’d been spinning herself into a frenzy since last night. He thought that if he looked at it from her side, and at an angle, he might see the logic behind it. If she felt her hands were tied and she’d tried to bite her way out of it, then he supposed what he’d just done must’ve felt like having her mouth taped shut. He ignored the faint wave of nausea that rolled over him then. She opened her eyes, so slightly that Nikolai might have missed it had he not been right in front of her, looking for the smallest twitch of muscles on her face. He held her gaze for a moment, hardly moving a muscle himself, before he spoke again, his voice firm. “No games. Remember?”

The huff that left her might have been a chuckle, only completely devoid of any humour. She stared down at him for a moment, eyes glassy and tired, like it had all just caught up to her and she was finally crumbling. “I almost believe you. I think it’s the face. It’s a kind one.” Her eyes searched his face, clinical, like one would observe a painting of him on the gallery wall. “Or maybe you’re just handsome.”

“Why, thank you.” He offered her his best attempt at a self-assured smirk and decided it fell flat. Even his ego was dampened by the moment, which was a feat in itself. He sighed. “What did they do to you?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?”

Kind of. “Do you want to answer it?”

She shook her head.

“Then it was rhetorical.” Nikolai leaned his elbow against the table, steadying himself, and propped his cheek against his hand as he looked sideways at her. She seemed calmer now, if entirely deflated. “At least now I know you’re not mounting a coup d'état,” he supplied, unhelpfully.

She made a derisive sound, and it took him a second to realise it was a snort. “Because I’m such a sorry mess? Yes, you’re right, nothing so grandiose.” Her fingers slipped absentmindedly across the book that was left forgotten on the table. “You could though, if you wanted to. I think.”

“Yeah, probably.” This time, he did smirk properly. Then he patted the armrest of her chair and pushed himself up. “Now go rest. And wear something ugly tonight, so I won’t even be tempted to look your way.”

This, he found, caught her attention, because her gaze snapped to him almost instantly, suddenly alert. “What’s the catch?”

“Saints, you would not believe me if I told you the Sun set in the West, would you?”

She didn’t answer that, just raised one delicate, precise eyebrow. Well, at least she didn’t look so defeated anymore, which Nikolai decided he’d take as a win.

“Try not to start any rumours in the meantime.” He winked at her, tapping his fingers against the table before he turned to leave the library. “One fire at a time.”

tags (i'm so sorry to bother you if you completely forgot about this 😭): @star-flecked-soul ; @meg-the-second-greatest ; @plowdenkm ; @londongirlcamefallingdown ; @ all the lovely anons in my inbox! <3

[the-kr8tor]

Yk what I think would be really cute. Hobie with a florist reader. Hobie’s a street performer who finds his little spot right outside readers shop. He sees reader come every early morning to open her shop and how she closes it every night. He needs to talk to her🙏🙏🙏

Thank you for this cute prompt! I hope you like it ❤️😊

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Word count: 1.5k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, CW injury, shy! Reader, lovestruck! Hobie, fluff!

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Hobie's soulful song echoes during the early mornings until night falls. Every other week you see him strum the same cherry red guitar right outside your shop for almost two years now. You greet him whenever you open your little corner flower shop, and you murmur a shy goodbye to him every night when it's time to close for the day. And without fail, he always asks you for permission to play in front of your shop, and without a second thought, you always say yes.

Throughout your day, he stands there right outside your window, singing and performing to his heart's content. Sometimes you think he does it just for the love of performing, one day you'll ask him. But for now, you'll gladly toss him a few quid here and there whenever you go out to water the flowers displayed outside. It's your way of saying thank you for always helping you take out the pots from inside and carry deliveries for you even though you haven't asked him to do so. And you always hand him a cup of coffee straight from your own coffee pot, you always tell him that you made too much for today, an excuse to casually converse with the handsome punk.

Hobie always sees you open the shop thirty minutes early, always humming a soft tune as you carry bundles of sweet smelling flowers. He thinks you're as pretty as the flowers you sell, much sweeter too as you always make time to greet him bashfully. The coffees and occasional pastries you hand him with a gentle smile are always a highlight of his day. One day he'll talk to you, not the casual conversation of ‘how was your weekend?’ or ‘how’s business?’ but an actual conversation that he hopes would blossom to a friendship, or maybe more as he glances at you from his usual spot whilst you're watering your flowers that are on display.

“Is that new?” He asks, interrupting your soft humming. “The gardenias, they look a bit different, innit?”

Your smile brightens up the whole street. “You noticed! it's a new type.” Pointing daintily at the petal, you beam at Hobie, finding that he's already smiling at you, his hands paused from playing his music. ���See, the petals are bigger than the usual ones, and they smell sweeter too.” Plucking one, you purse your lips together at what you're about to do.

You cross the distance towards him, handing Hobie the flower as you shyly look at him through your lashes. “Here.”

Hobie grins, hands suddenly clammy as he looks into your eyes. “It's mine?”

“Yeah, it's a gift, Hobie.” Your heart threatens to jump out of your chest.

“Thank you, love.” Plucking the flower from your grasp, his warm hand lingers briefly against your own. He has decided that he's going to make a move when you close the shop later. Bringing the flower to his face, he lets the sweet scent waft over his nose. “You're right, it's as sweet as you.”

You chuckle, face warming up from his comment. “Thanks, Hobie.” Without thinking, you nudge his shoulder with your fist, like a guy joking with his mate. You internally cringe to oblivion. “I–I gotta head back.”

Hobie can't help the grin on his lips, absolutely endeared by you. “Sure, love.”

You bounce nervously on the balls of your feet, before heading back inside. “right, bye.

Then, his spidey senses suddenly kick in, sending his adrenaline into overdrive. “Shit, not on my day off.” He guesses that the spider band needs his help. Tucking the flower inside his vest pocket, and with one last look at you through the window, he bolts off into an alleyway.

—

Your hands play with a silky ribbon, rolling it around your fingers then unraveling it again. You're bored out of your mind, all the orders for today have been sent out, and your duties all checked. As you stare out into the distance, elbow perched atop the counter and looking at the same spot Hobie's supposed to be in, you wonder where he went. You saw him sprint off an hour ago, maybe there's an emergency? You're starting to worry that he's not alright or having an awful day.

Placing your chin atop your palms, you watch people pass by the shop, hoping that something happens or you'll die of boredom. Then you see it, a red and blue flash coming straight at you.

Eyes widening, it gets bigger and bigger. You duck under the counter with a yelp. Glass shatters and bursts into the tiny shop, sending shards to clatter around you.

“Wanker!” You hear a curse from behind the counter.

Peeking over, you see someone lying down on the floor, groaning and cradling his shoulder. Realization hits you when you recognize him as the same masked vigilante you keep seeing on the news.

“Spider-Man?” You mumble, legs wobbly from anxiety. “Are you okay?” He freezes in place, shoulders stiff as he slowly looks over his shoulder. “Are you in shock?” With a bit of courage, you dredge through the broken glass to walk over to him. “I have some bandages, but I don't know if that'll help much.” Wringing your hands together, you see the eyes of his mask widen.

“Lo—” he clamps his mouth shut, leaping back to his feet within a split second. Clearing his throat, he shifts his weight from foot to foot. “Are you alright?”

His voice is much more high pitched than you thought it would be. And he's taller in person too, just like someone else you know.

“Yeah, I'm fine. I ducked.” The awkwardness permeates through the air of your broken down shop. “I can't say the same thing for my shop though.”

“Shit,” He lifts a foot up after noticing that he's stepping on a rose. “Sorry, I'll— fuck, I'm sorry.” His gloved hands hover around you, not knowing if he should comfort you with a hug or leave you alone.

You sniff, eyes tearfully looking at your ruined hard work. Putting on a brave face, you smile at him. “I–It's okay, I have insurance.”

“I—” A roar echoes from somewhere, interrupting him. “It's the lizard, I have to…” he points at the green smoke billowing out from the rooftops a few ways ahead.

“Okay,” you nod, smiling nervously at the vigilante. “Be careful, Spider-Man.”

He takes a step forward, but then goes back to face you. “I'll come back and help fix this.”

“You really don't have to.” You wave your palms in front of you, then you unexpectedly take his hand, squeezing it once as you give him your sweetest smile. He smells weirdly of gardenias, it has you smiling even more. “Just beat the crap out of the lizard for me.”

Chuckling, he squeezes you back before reluctantly letting go. Who knew that his other persona would get to hold your hand before his civilian self did. “I will, for you.” Raising his hand, he swings away.

Looking around your shop, you should've been careful of what you wished for. You're just glad that Hobie left before this all happened, or he might've been caught in the crossfire. As you grab a broom, you start your clean-up while you dial your insurance company. You're sure that you availed the villain slash hero accident in the insurance.

—

The sun is just about to set when you finally got to talk to an insurance agent about your predicament. Sighing, there's still so many shards of glass on the floor, not to mention all the crushed flowers and broken flower pots that are scattered all over the shop. Your cleanup wasn't very effective since it's just you and a single broom. With a sigh, you grab the broom again, sweeping relentlessly as the breeze passes by the broken windows. You definitely need something to cover it up.

As you sweep, you spot a familiar pair of boots coming your way from your peripheral. You crane your neck, sighing in relief when you see Hobie trying to catch his breath.

“Hobie.” You beam at him, and he smiles back, hands reaching for you. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard.” He grasps at your elbow, calloused fingers squeezing you lovingly, heart aching at the state of your flower shop. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I'm fine.” You hold onto the top of his hand, thumb brushing along a bandaid on the side of his palm. Looking down, you see a dozen or so bandaids on his arms and hands. “Shit, did you get caught in the fight?” Taking his palms, you worriedly glance all over his tiny cuts.

Hobie chuckles, shaking his head as he makes you look at him with his index lifting up your chin. “I'm good, love.” He pats at his leather vest, where the gardenia you gave him rests. It's a bit beaten up from the looks of it, but it's fully intact. “My lucky charm saved me.”

Exhaling from the relief, you haven't noticed that you're still holding onto his hand. “I'm glad my flower protected you.”

“I heard it's a new kind of gardenia.”

“Capable of saving you, I heard.”

The two of you stare at each other under the glow of the sunset, savouring the peaceful moment.

Numerous footsteps suddenly come your way, prompting you to look at the group of punks smiling at you while holding onto cleaning supplies and the biggest tarp you've ever seen.

“I also heard that you need help cleanin’ up. Brought some extra hands.”

[doiliedaze]

Intertwined, Sewn Together

Butch mechanic! Vi x Bimbo flower shop owner! reader

Warnings: Vi courting reader very obviously, flirt Vi, tooth-rooting fluff, reader is a perv a little (implied she has masturbated to the thought of Vi before), reader is such a botanical nerd and rambly mess, reader lacks common sense just a little bit, reader is whipped for Vi bad (I feel you girl), sweet to heavy make out session but nothing too major, butch bulge 😵‍💫

Genre: fluff

A/N: a lot of Adrianne Lenker songs remind me of Vi but especially not a lot, just forever! The songs that inspired this fic are crush, not a lot just forever, heavy and Constant Craving!! I typically think of bimbos to have confidence but I want this bimbo to have a more shy nature or like a quiet confident like flowers because they are so dainty but they hold so much energy and meaning! I also know nothing about mechanical stuff so bare with me…I gotta stop not knowing things in my Vi fics😅

Language of flowers guide: carnations= fascination, distinction and love | peonies= love, romance and purity | baby’s breath= everlasting love, purity, innocence | iris’s= affection and devotion | violets= everlasting love, lesbian courting, faithfulness and modesty | lavender= love and devotion gardenias= protection, hope, love and trust

These are the meanings with romantic connotations it can differ based on the connotations. Can also differ based on color!!

───────┈ · ·

“Stupid fucking car! Stupid fucking auto shops!” You mutter to yourself as you walk into the auto repair shop. Your pink bug has been in the shop for two weeks now, something about an engine? You aren’t sure but you felt like it should be done by now! You also spaced everytime you talked to your mechanic because she’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen!

“Excuse me?” You say with a wobble in your voice as you tap the mechanics shoulder. She is as handsome as ever and her gaze is electric!

Her floppy pink hair pulled back in a messy ponytail. Vi her name tag read but it never seems to leave your lips…well at least in public.

“Hey sweet thing, more questions ‘bout the car?” She says smoothly as she rubs some oil on her overalls.

The lump in your throat thickens when she calls you that. Gosh she makes you squirm internally well you hope she doesn’t notice too much.

“Hi…uh yes please!” You follow her mindlessly and as soon as she updates you, you focus on the scar on her top lip or the freckles sprinkled across her cheeks or the way she cocks her eyebrow when she’s explaining car stuff to you or-

“Lost?” Her mellows out from excited to enchanting. “No! I didn’t mean to stare I was tryna listen.” This technically isn’t a complete lie!

With a nod you can tell she was trying to think of a way to explain it to you instead of getting mad at you. That’s a constant in your life, if you’re confused you’re use to being yelled at.

When she breaks it down for you, it all comes together! Before you could say but she says, “y’know it’s nice when you stop by.” Her hands nonchalantly slide into her pockets. “Oh I don’t do much when I’m here?”

“You don’t need to do much sweet thing.” She took a curt step forward. “A woman like you is enchanting to breathe next to.” Her voice lowered to a husky whisper. Not a husk of lust no, a husk of admiration.

Flustered you look away not exactly knowing how to respond. So you choose to flee like fleeting honeybee you can be. “Wow look at the time! I have to be on my way-”

“Wait! I mean…may I have your number before you go?” This time she didn’t step any closer giving you some room to breathe not wanting to come off any stronger than she already is. You can tell she had to mentally work up to it, the tips of her ears were red.

Excited but trying to keep calm you give her your number…well your work number. You accidentally made your business number your personal number and never went back after you print out 500 business cards, which was also too many business cards!

Since that day you haven’t talked to Vi…traditionally at least. She’s been ordering bouquets from your shop and shipping it to meet you in the morning. The meanings behind each beautiful and unique!

This bouquet had carnations, peonies and baby’s breath! Which confused you when you first saw them, typically she’s put some violet or lavender in there…

Maybe it was a signal to call her, or her affections has changed?

You were going to call truly but your nerves got the best of you! So when your car was ready you were going to surprise her!

Vi is under the impression you weren’t interested in her advanced until she could hear the click of your heels as you try to walk as quietly as possible. It’s hard for someone as radiant as you to go unnoticed.

“Hey sweet thing, ready for your car?” She says softly mustering her small smile.

Before she could go on you hand her a bouquet that was behind your back. It was filled with violets, iris’s, lavender, gardenias and peonies with some sticks to add a rustic flare to it.

“I know I haven’t called nor given any action to your affections but I don’t want you to think they go unnoticed! Especially after you started to stop sending violets and lavenders I knew I had to do something. I would be naive to act as though I’m not attracted to you but-”

Vi cuts you off by waving her hand in the air, “thank you, y/n I appreciate it and you don’t have to explain yourself. I’m a woman of action and you babe are showing out.” She smiles as she takes the boquete. “Y’know I’ve never been given flowers? I…thank you.” She holds them closer to her chest.

Ever since then y’all have been spending your free time together. The workers at your shop love when Vi comes by. She’s always being snacks and good conversation! At first the guys at the shop were slightly annoyed by your presence but when you brought baked goods along with flowers for Vi, you were welcomed.

Vi pulled up to your shop after hours knowing you were closing. “Sweet thing you ready?” She smirks as she revs her motorcycle. Although she looks so hot on it you hate being on it with her but she always takes you home.

“Course pretty” you say with a smile and sway in your hips as you get on the back.

You two have a spot. It’s a cozy cliff on this mountain. It’s a bit of a drive but y’all don’t mind. The two of you set up blankets and food as you lay back and gaze at the stars…well you were. Vi was too busy staring your face off. Realizing she hasn’t been replying to your rambling you turn to her and stare back going to caress her cheek.

She’s at home with you. You validate her butchness as she to your femmeness. No one has ever been all that interested in her work, especially to the extent of helping her fix her dream car. You’re there for her and she’s here for you.

Vi has always been described as a courageous woman but when it comes to you? She’s a fucking wimp! The two of you have been taking it slow due to the courting process but she knew tonight was the night. The night she’d ask you to be yours…to try not to say that she loves you because she does. She can feel it in her gut.

“You okay Violet?” She melts when you say her name, the only person she wants to hear say it. She rolls on top of you, somewhat putting her weight on you, more her chest.

“Can you feel that? That’s how my heart beats everytime I’m around you. Which is concerning because I’m around you a lot!” She snorts causing you to laugh a little. You nuzzle your face into hers and you let her fingers entangle into yours.

“Be mine. I can’t live another second without you as mine, my counterpart, my femme, just mine.” She breathed as if she was letting a weight off her shoulders she didn’t know she had.

If she’d was quicker to open her eyes she’d see how excited you are. Impatient as you are you kiss her. The kiss starts off slow, just your lips pressed together awkwardly as you try to stop smiling.

Vi grips your hands tighter as she presses closer, biting your lip. She doesn’t want to mean to make the kiss sloppy but she can’t help but explore you.

Her tongue presses and wraps itself around yours. You mumble her name and her breathe hicks. Her bulge presses against your thigh softly rutting as she kisses you.

You wrap a leg around her causing your skirt to fall some and she moves a hand to grip your thigh. Even though this kiss is moving fast there’s restraint from both end.

You break away to breathe a string of saliva following. “Should we go?” You whisper and she nuzzles into your neck groaning a yes.

The two of you are new to peace, especially a peace you two could provide each other. However you’re willing to get tangled into each other.

───────┈ · ·

A/N: i got nervous writing it teehee!! I hope you enjoyed @milanyas <3 I’m definitely going to expand on this idea because I lowkey feel like it could’ve been longer but I didn’t know how and I didn’t really want smut? I’ll probably make an imagine for you dolls!

Taglist- @manfuckthisimout @bambishaven @femme-historian @furrytaesss

Dividers- @8bbitbunni

[gurugirl]

The Big Tease | bfd!harry

*photo is for t-shirt placement visual only. please picture who you like as reader.

best friend's dad!harry x reader - forbidden relationship au

Summary: based loosely on this request - Harry comes to your place to make sure you're taking care of yourself and you find that as hard as you try to tease him, he's not giving in to you and then some high emotions are exposed.

Word Count: 7.8k words

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, smut, angst, age gap, cheating

bfd!harry masterlist

You tried not to feel guilty about what you were doing with a married man. Your best friend’s dad. It was hard when it came to keeping it a secret from everyone. Keeping it a secret from Fae.

“Where’d you get this?” Fae brushed her fingers over the pretty little bracelet Mr. Styles gave you a few nights before. It was gold with three round light-colored opals in the center and two round-cut tiny diamonds on either side. It was dainty and sweet and you knew it was expensive after googling the brand and finding the exact item available online and in high-end shops nearby.

“Ahh… my mom and dad got it for me a while ago. Just haven’t worn it in a long time. Forgot it about,” you lied with a shrug. Lying to her made you nauseous.

“Really? How could you forget about this? It’s gorgeous! Looks really pretty on you too,” she complimented and you frowned as you looked down at it.

You hated lying to your best friend. But what could you do? You certainly wouldn’t admit to your affair with her father. And of course, you weren’t quite feeling guilty enough to put an end to it either. Mr. Styles was the best you’d ever had and you were completely smitten with him.

When you two finally made it back to your apartment after shopping and eating and stopping at the ice cream shop for a treat you’d also forgotten all the lovely flowers you had sitting around your living room and kitchen.

It had also become a thing where you’d get the most exquisite bouquets delivered to you every Monday morning. Peonies, roses, phalaenopsis orchids, and gardenias all stuffed with hardly any filler. You knew the bouquets he was sending you were hundreds of dollars a pop. But they were breathtaking.

You quickly assessed in your mind whether or not you’d removed the cards from them which would have given everything away should Fae see. Unlocking your door and letting yourself in first you quickly glanced around and the freshest bouquet clearly still had its card poking out of it. You made a beeline across the room as Fae closed your door behind her and plucked the tiny card out, crumpling it in your hand, and then bent down next to the table to pretend you were doing something else.

“Those are so pretty, Y/n. Oh my god. Do you have a flower service or something?”

You had three bouquets placed around your living room. One was clearly old and some of the flowers were drooping, losing their vibrant colors, while the newer ones were full of soft pinks and purples, crisp white and cream…

“Yes. I decided to start treating myself to nice flowers every week.” You smiled. Another lie. You couldn’t afford a weekly delivery of these kinds of flowers and if Fae bothered to research how expensive bouquets like this were she’d have questioned you further. But luckily she didn’t.

The bracelet, the flowers, your glow… all things she noticed, could have been an indicator of a lover but as far as you could tell she hadn’t connected the dots. Or at least she didn’t voice it to you.

Of course, everything could be explained. But she was your best friend. If you weren’t more vigilant, she’d be catching on soon, you were sure.

.           .           .

The following day after a morning shift at the restaurant you arrived home and collapsed on your couch. It was exhausting. The restaurant was only open for breakfast and brunch on the weekend (where normally it’s only a dinner spot the rest of the week) and it was slammed. Mimosas, eggs benedict, fancy French tarts, and pastries, huge parties of people, music, guests nursing hangovers… The restaurant was well known for its weekend breakfast and brunch with bottomless mimosas and Bloody Marys. The clientele were usually upper-class folks who didn’t mind spending $35 for their mimosa and then only ordering 2 when they could have had as many as they wanted. A local creamery provided butter, yogurt, and milk for your special breakfast dishes, and a bowl of fancy yogurt and some in-house granola was $15. The cheapest food item on the breakfast menu. The cheapest item on the menu was a cup of black coffee, refillable. Unless you ordered the free tap water.

You got lucky to eat anything while you served breakfast. It was typically too busy to take a bite of anything. But the tips were excellent because everyone was usually in a great mood.

You were startled awake by your phone vibrating in your back pocket. You’d fallen asleep without even realizing you’d closed your eyes.

Pulling the phone out from under your body you realized it was Harry calling you (he normally didn’t call unless it was prearranged).

“Hello?” You sat up as you answered.

“Baby! I was worried. Are you okay? I didn’t hear back from you.”

Harry had a thing where he wanted you to text him when you got home from work to let him know you made it safely, even if it was a morning shift. He was always so worried about you but you kind of loved it.

“I’m fine. Sorry! I fell asleep as soon as I sat down on the couch. God, I’m so exhausted. Fae was here late last night and then I had the breakfast shift so I only had like four hours of sleep…”

“Hey, it’s okay. I was just worried. I texted you and then never heard back. Just started to panic. Have you eaten?”

You smiled and his soft deep voice made you feel so comfortable and safe, “I haven’t eaten yet. I had a bit at work but just passed out as soon as I got here.”

“So you’ve only had something to eat at work? It’s already dinnertime, Y/n.”

Harry did have a tendency to sort of scold you like he was your dad. Maybe it was ingrained in him in some ways. To try and take care of you and remind you to do things like eat.

“Geez, Dad. I’ll get right on it,” you teased.

Harry was silent for a moment, which had you worried. Perhaps calling him ‘dad’ had been unwise.

But then suddenly his voice broke through the line, “I’m coming over. I have a feeling you don’t have any groceries and I’m gonna make you dinner. Something to eat.”

You scoffed, “I mean… I have food here. I will eat. You don’t have–“

“I’ll be there within an hour,” he interrupted and you nodded to yourself.

“O… Okay. Um… yeah. In an hour.”

.           .           .

You quickly showered and tossed your dirty clothes into your clothes hamper so they weren’t strewn about your bedroom floor. You tidied up and kept yourself busy until he finally arrived. You were getting all worked up knowing he was coming over.

You didn’t know what he had been telling Mrs. Styles about why he was leaving or when he’d stay with you overnight, or spend hours in your bed every week. Though there were times he could only come over quickly, most of the time he stayed with you long enough that he’d need a good cover story. You kind of hoped you could have him for the night.

When he knocked at your door and you opened it up for him you saw he had his hands full. One arm around a sack of groceries and in his other hand the bag he normally packed for when he was staying the night.

You smiled when you saw his handsome face and ushered him into your small apartment. He leaned in to kiss you quickly, “Just showered?” He asked.

“Well yeah,” you spoke as you closed the door and followed behind him to your kitchen, “I didn’t have the chance earlier because I fell asleep as you know,” you laughed.

“Mmhmm…” he grunted affirmatively as he began to remove the grocery items from the bag one by one.

You saw tomatoes, fresh basil, flour, mushrooms, cheese…

“What are you making?” You picked up the container of buffalo mozzarella and then looked at Harry.

“Margherita pizza. One of my favorite little recipes my mom used to make.”

You placed the container down, pulled his arm to drag him toward you, and stood on your tiptoes to kiss him.

He immediately paused what he was doing and wrapped his arms around you, deepening the kiss and then giving you a taste of his tongue.

But then he pulled away with his signature teasing smirk and went back to his task.

“You brought your bag. Gonna stay the night with me?”

He nodded as he folded the paper bag up neatly and then looked at you, “If that’s okay. Have to leave early, though.”

If that’s okay.

You laughed to yourself and nodded, “Of course, it’s okay, Harry. God, what I wouldn’t give to have you with me every–“ You stopped what you saying when you realized how suddenly serious that thought was. You did want him every night. You wanted him to yourself but you hadn’t discussed that with him before.

Harry placed the neatly folded paper bag down on your little counter and then pulled you back toward him with his hands on your hips, “Yeah? Every…? What? Every night? Want me every night, baby?” That same sneaky, devious smirk on his face had you melting and warm.

“I just meant, you’re always welcome,” you slid your hands up his chest and bit your lip. You were a little embarrassed that you admitted that but it was obviously too late now.

“I’m always welcome or you want me every night? Which is it?” He gripped you harder so you couldn’t escape his questions, his gaze.

You puffed a breath out through your lips with a laugh, “Both.”

He loosened his grip and brought a hand to your face, his eyes fixed to yours, “Both. I’d much prefer to be here with you every night too. Would if I could.” The thumb that trailed over your cheekbone and to your temple was soft and loving. You knew he meant what he said.

Harry’s pizza was superb. Your oven wasn’t quite right, he kept saying as he baked it but to you, it was the best thing that had ever come out of that cheap appliance.

“Usually like to make this in a brick oven. The one I’ve got in my backyard, but this will do in a pinch I suppose.”

Your mouth was full as you nodded, “So good.”

Harry laughed at your stuffed cheeks and the way you were gobbling down what he’d made.

“Aren’t you going to eat more?” You asked him finally when you’d swallowed your bite. He’d only had one slice.

“Already had dinner. But I wanted to feed you. Make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

For some reason with a tummy full of Harry’s pizza and the kind gesture of his cooking to help take care of you had you reeling and needing more than just food.

Of course, it would have been impolite to just abandon cleanup but you were suddenly aware of how his sleeves were pushed up his forearms and how his dimples were extra deep accompanying his attractive smile. And his hair looked too tidy, you needed to get your hands in it. Needed to get him out of his clothes. Get those long fingers around your neck and touching your body immediately.

You set your plate down on the small kitchen table you were both sitting at and slid your hand up his thigh, “Oh is that why you came over here? The only reason?” You grinned and he leaned back into his chair and looked at you, keeping his own grin in check.

“Need to make sure my girl is healthy. Has everything she needs.”

“Yeah? And sometimes I need more than just food too, Mr. Styles.”

Harry crossed his arms over his chest and spread his legs slightly as you continued moving your hand upward, “Oh I know, sweet girl. You need a lot of things, don’t you?”

You nodded, “What about you? Do you need things too? From me? Anything I can help you with?”

Now his grin was breaking out over his face but it was cheeky, playful, “Of course I do.”

But he wasn’t giving in to your little game. He liked having you be the one to ask for it. You didn’t know why but he loved hearing you beg him. You always resisted begging. At first anyway. Sometimes he’d give in without you needing to.

“And what do you need from me?” You stopped short of putting your fingers over where you knew he was tucked under his pants. The obvious natural bulge he sported giving away where he normally liked to position himself.

“Whatever you’re willing to give me, love. But I’m here because you needed to eat first and foremost. And you needed some groceries.”

You laughed and skipped over his lovely cock and put your hand up to his chest, scooting your chair in a little closer, “I’ll give you anything you want, sir. All you have to do is ask.”

Harry smiled and licked his lips slowly, “I’m as content as I can be here with you right now. Could sit here all night listening to you talk. S’that what you want? Want to touch my chest,” he flitted his eyes down to where your hand was before looking back into your eyes, “and my thighs, and chat all night about my pizza making skills and your lack of healthy food?”

You folded your lips into your mouth to keep yourself from laughing. He was playing a game of chicken with you. You really wanted to win this time.

“Well, that does sound really nice. You’ve filled me up so good with your yummy pizza. Guess I don’t need anything more than stimulating conversation with you if that’s all you’re interested in.”

Harry swallowed and breathed a laugh out of his nose, “Fine. Pizza and conversation it is.”

You wanted to huff in frustration. He still had his arms crossed over his chest, just under where your fingers were toying with the buttons on his shirt. He wasn’t giving in. But you had a thought.

“I’ll be right back.”

You hopped up from the chair and pranced to your bedroom. If he wanted to tease so would you. Stripping off your sweats you dug out your thin white Hey Lover t-shirt and tied it up just under the center of your breasts, and black cheeky boy short panties. You’d pretend you were only getting comfy since it was already late in the evening. He’d know what you were up to but you could play it off like you just wanted to get into your comfy house clothes.

When you got back to the kitchen Harry was already cleaning up.

“Hey, let’s do that later. Wanna sit and talk a bit.”

Harry tsked you, his back still turned as he wrapped up the rest of the pizza in foil, “I worked hard on this. Don’t want it to go bad. You can go sit–“ when he finally turned his full gaze back to you he stopped mid-sentence. You saw his jaw clench and his nostrils flair.

Not fair. That was not fair of you.

You knew your top especially was going to drive him mad. It was thin and your nipples were poking through the material and he could certainly see the shadow of the deeper color of your areolas popping through.

And he did. You noted where his eyes roamed, pausing over your tits for a good few seconds before licking his lips and turning back around to finish his job.

“Go sit.” He said without a single note of sweetness or desire.

You smiled to yourself as you walked into the living room and sat on your couch. Putting on a little music you selected a good little playlist that you knew he’d like.

Trying to act as unbothered as you possibly could you found a comfortable position on the couch and leaned into your cushions as you waited for Mr. Styles to join you.

It wasn’t long before he was casually strolling into the living room and sitting on the couch, leaving a few feet between you two. He draped an ankle over his knee and sat back, looking totally cool and unbothered.

You stretched and gathered your hair into your hands to expose your neck as you spoke, “So, how was your day today, Mr. Styles? You already know all about mine.”

Harry nodded slowly as he looked at you, keeping his eyes on your face, “Normal. Woke up and worked out, read an article, and played some golf with a colleague. That’s it really. Now here I am feeding you and entertaining you with conversation,” he grinned and you saw his eyes quickly take in your neck.

You smiled and sighed, “Sounds nice. I’ve played golf a few times. I’m terrible at it, though. Once a guy who took me tried to straighten out my stance but it did no good. No matter how many times he helped me adjust my grip or pushed my legs to spread them out properly it just didn’t work,” you chuckled. It was true. You’d gone with a guy a couple of years back on a date. He was flirting with you when he tried showing you the proper way to stand and hold the club but it turned into making out in the golf cart and a quick fuck in his car before he dropped you at home.

“S’that so? He probably wasn’t a good player either if he couldn’t give you any tips to help you improve your game.”

You shrugged, “I don’t know. I think he was more interested in getting my clothes off than anything,” you kept your eyes on his to asses but there was nothing there that indicated jealousy.

You had to amp it up. Do something to make him lose it. Wanted to watch him thicken up in his pants.

Dropping your hair you tucked your legs under yourself and turned to face Harry. You knew he was trying his hardest not to let his eyes drop below your neck. He knew he’d be fucked if he took in the way the soft cotton stretched over your breasts.

“Anyway. Are you any good?” You allowed your own eyes to take him in fully. His composure was sure to falter at some point.

“Yeah. I’m all right. I can hold my own.”

His short answer was not exactly what you were hoping for but you didn’t let it deter you. For some reason, his standoffish behavior was getting you even more worked up.

“Bet you can hold your own. You’re just so naturally good at everything you do,” you moved your finger over your tummy, keeping your eyes on his, “I know first-hand.”

Harry raised his brows and the movement of your hand over your torso and then down toward the top of your panties had him dropping his sight to where you were softly ghosting your fingers along the elastic band. You tugged at the knot on your shirt before moving your hand back up toward your chest, your thumb pressed between your thin cotton t-shirt-covered tits.

He watched your fingers and then looked back up at you, “Do you? And what do you know of my skills?” He smiled softly. Still appearing totally unbothered.

You sighed and tilted your head, keeping your eyes on his before stretching your arms over your head and allowing your shirt to lift the tiniest bit, revealing the bottom of your breasts. You only put your arms down once you were satisfied that Mr. Styles had gotten a good look, “Well, for example, you just made me a pizza that was to die for. Also, you recently got promoted at work and now you’re some big shot,” you unfolded a leg from underneath your bum and stretched it out, pressing your bare foot onto Harry’s thigh, “And I’ve seen you work out,” you nudged his muscled thigh, “You put men half your age to shame. You’re so athletic…” you began to pull your foot away but Harry gripped your ankle and pulled your leg to drape over his thigh making you smile in triumph.  Though you’d not yet won this round, he was clearly giving in to you bit by bit.

“Hmmm…” Harry nodded and hummed quietly. He kept his hand on your shin and his eyes a safe distance from anything below your chin, “I know I’m good at a lot of things. Can make you dribble all over your chin by just pulling my pants down,” he licked his lips, “Feel like that’s a great skill of mine. What else…” his hand began to brush over your leg softly and you scoffed at him but of course, he was right. You both knew it. He made you drool and whiney and hot. He didn’t even have to do anything.

“That was one time. And you had your fingers in my mouth. It wasn’t because of your cock,” you lied. Well, his fingers in your mouth did have you drool down your chin and when he pulled his pants down, he teasingly pointed out how your chin was shiny and you’d dripped saliva down your neck and to your chest.

“No? Hmmm… but you were so desperate to get it in your mouth that you tried grabbing me and when I told you to be patient you whined and drooled all over the floor. You can pretend all you want, little girl. I see what you’re trying to do.”

You watched as his hand traveled up your leg and past your knee to your thigh, “Wearing this little getup… trying to seduce me. So desperate for me. But you’re gonna have to try a lot harder than this, Y/n. You can lie to yourself and pretend you're not bothered and change the subject and show me your pretty tits all you want. S’not gonna change the fact that you’re gonna wind up a messy little puddle begging me for anything I’ll give you. Isn’t that right?”

Your mouth dropped open in faux shock. He was right. But you weren’t ready to give up yet.

“Whatever you say, Mr. Styles. I know you like having your ego stroked. So go ahead and keep telling yourself that you’ve got the upper hand. We both know you’re already folding. I can sit here all night and chat with you like this if you want. Doesn’t bother me one bit.” You folded your arms across your chest with a grin.

Harry laughed quietly and shook his head. You were fun. He loved these moments with you. Loved giving you a hard time. Loved when you gave him a hard time. He softly pinched the inside of your thigh and you laughed, attempting to pull your leg away but he held you in place, large palms keeping your leg over him, fingers digging into your skin.

“Darling, you forget who you’re dealing with. I’m not the one resorting to skimpy clothes and trying to hide how turned-on I am. I see you trying to keep your legs pressed together. Hiding something,” he jutted his chin toward you and looked over the spot between your legs where he knew your panties covered up a tiny secret.

You wore black panties on purpose. Any wetness would be easier to hide, but keeping your legs pressed together could ensure he didn’t see the wet patch that had begun to spread. However, the way he was holding your leg over his lap made it quite difficult for you to not open your thighs a little.

“You just love to imagine that you’ve got me all bothered. But you’re wrong. I’m totally fine.”

Harry smiled and pulled at your leg further, causing a small yelp to slip out from your mouth followed by a tiny bit of laughter at the way you lost balance when you were pulled toward him, your other leg being tugged at to drape over his thigh.

“Good. Then we can just sit here and talk about the weather and maybe politics if you’re into that. Or is there another topic you had in mind since you’re so keen on just sitting chatting all night?”

You steadied yourself, back against the cushion as you pressed your legs together again and looked up at him innocently, “Randy called me the other day. Said he missed me. Apologized for being rude when we were together. That was nice to hear. The apology,” you wiggled your hips to fix your seating so you could appear more casual, despite having your legs in Harry’s possession over his lap.

Harry’s large palms ran up the outer sides of your thighs slowly before dragging back down to just above your knees, keeping his eyes on yours, “Oh really? Thinking about getting back with him then?” He spoke trying to tamper the playful smile on his face.

You snorted a laugh and grinned teasingly, drawing your fingers across your breasts, “Nahh… I can do better. I mean… maybe if I’m desperate and just need to scratch an itch. You know? Being a single girl gets hard at times. My dildo is only gonna give me a small taste of what a man can. Even if he’s not great in bed.”

Biting the inside of his cheek he nodded with dark eyes, “Would be such a shame to waste a good fuck on Rudy like that when you’ve got me at the helm. Of course, you're too stubborn to admit it. All you have to do is ask.”

 You sighed and dropped your hands to your lap with a pout, “Randy. His name is Randy. But anyway… I don’t have to beg Randy to fuck me. He’s never pretended he was unbothered by me. Always quite straightforward really. If he wanted sex all he had to do was tell me. You on the other hand,” you poked your finger into his arm, “like making it hard for me, which is quite impolite. So I’m okay with not having sex if you just aren’t up for it.”

Harry pushed a laugh out through his nose at your tease, “Rudy sounds like a fucking bore. And he never gave you an orgasm. Either you have really bad taste or you’re just a tease. I have a feeling I know which it is, too. Little girl likes to play games. I can play games if you want. But you know I’m gonna win.”

You knew he was right. You wanted his cock but he wasn’t budging. All you had to do was admit it. Ask him politely. And you would when you couldn’t handle it any longer but you were having fun and the back and forth was like foreplay for you.

He kept one hand grasped around the outside of your thigh while his other smoothed inward, fingers pushing your thighs apart the tiniest bit and then gently dancing upward. If he moved his fingers too far up he’d feel how damp you were already.

“I’m not playing games,” you spoke matter-of-factly, watching as his hand traveled over your skin, “I can just tell maybe you’re tired Perhaps you’ve had a long day and it’s almost bedtime for you. I mean I get it,” you laughed in preparation for what you were about to say, “When you get to be your age things just slow down a little. It’s okay if you’re not up for it tonight, sir.”

Harry pulled his lips into his mouth and closed his eyes as he laughed at your attempt to provoke him.

When he looked back at you his expression was serious as he pried your legs apart, swiping the pad of his pointer finger right over the wet material of your panties and raised his brows as if he was shocked. Though you knew he was goading you, “You know goddamn well that my age has nothing to do with my libido. Difference between me and you is that I have incredible willpower and I know that you’re gonna be begging me to stuff your pussy before the night is over.”

You laughed and shook your head, “Nope.”

Harry pressed his thumb right over where your clit was already aching and grinned, “Yep.” Popping the p for emphasis. “See I’ve already got you soaking your panties. Goosebumps on your legs. Your nipples are hard. Your face is warm. I bet your heart is pounding too, just wishing you were getting the life fucked out of you right now. And you could be,” he spoke lowly as he slid a finger under the fabric of your panties and smoothed it over your skin, but not touching your crease or your clit like you hoped, “If you just admit it.”

You noticed that his cock had plumped under his pants. A good sign, you figured, “Nothing to admit. I might be turned on but I can hold out. In fact, I’d bet you’re not in much better shape with your cock swelling up like it is. You need this wet pussy to soothe that big dick, don’t you?”

Harry’s undisturbed body language was a concern because even though his prick was growing harder by the minute, you were starting to boil while he still seemed unphased.

“Oh, honey…” Harry smiled at you like you were a pitiful thing, “I’m doing just fine. In fact, probably just gonna fuck my own fist before we go to bed since you’re so stubborn. Maybe I’ll let you watch me too. I’ll be just fine. Just love being here with you. We don’t always have to have sex.”

You clenched your jaw and huffed imagining that scene. Having Harry yank his cock with his big hand until he was coming on your floor. You’d want to lick it up off the floor too. Scoop it all up and swallow it down. He had you obsessed with his come. Well, with him in general.

You tried to think of something to say but your brain was stuck on the image of him slowly stroking his fat cock and saying filthy shit to you while you tried to hold it together and not give in to your own urges.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Harry lifted a hand to your face and brushed his thumb along your jaw and up over your cheek, “Need to tell me something?”

Your lips parted and you breathed out a small whimper and squished your eyes closed. Your determination was crumbling with his soft touches.

“S’okay. If you don’t mind,” Harry pushed your legs off of him and quickly began to unbutton his pants, “S’getting tight in there…” he pulled his pants down just a touch so that the bulge under his briefs was now poking out and he had a bit more space to breathe.

He pressed over his erection and straightened himself out and suddenly the tip of his cock was peeking out over the band of Calvin Kleins. You closed your eyes again and tried to will yourself to not give in to him. But what was fair was fair. You were teasing him with your body and now he was returning the favor.

When you heard Harry chuckle you opened your eyes to look at him and your head was fuzzy. He was literally mouth-watering. He’d unbuttoned his shirt so you could see his tattoos and the large erection poking out from his briefs was like an actual cherry on top of it all. You licked your lips and swallowed down your saliva as you stared at his swollen head. It looked like something you could just pop into your mouth and suckle on if you weren’t so stubborn.

But Harry loved how stubborn you were. You really did make him work for it. You were exciting and sweet and he loved the way you teased him.

“If you want some you can have some, sweetheart. I know you’d like a taste. S’right there for you if you just ask politely.”

You groaned and looked away from him but your eyes were burning and all you could think about was straddling his lap and pushing his briefs down so you could fuck yourself on him. You were actually vibrating and pulsing you were so turned on.

And when you thought about it all… how this was all just a game anyway. How you both knew you’d end up with his come dribbling out of your cunt and satisfied and fucked out before you went to bed you laughed, “Fuck it…” you said as you crawled yourself over his lap and Harry’s hands found your hips, “I want you. Okay? You win.”

He had a pleased smile on his face when he felt you press your soaked panties over his briefs and plaster your lips over his in finality.

He would have laughed and teased you for giving in but he was thankful you did. Because he was aching for you.

You were desperate too. You pulled away from the kiss and put your hands down to his briefs and pushed at the material before sliding the crotch of your panties to the side and letting your wet hole kiss his tip softly as you looked into his eyes, “Can I please have it?”

Harry’s smirk fell from his face the moment you began to lower yourself, coating him in your slick arousal, “Yes. Take what you want. Fuck…”

The music was soft and you could barely hear the lyrics as you began to work yourself down and up along his length. You moaned as you felt him poke deep and keened, sucking in a sharp breath, “So thick…” you panted.

You were wetting Harry’s briefs and the tops of his pants but he didn’t care in that moment. He’d take care of the issue after you were done, “Yeah? Needed to stuff yourself with my cock didn’t you darling? Feels good?”

You nodded and held onto the back of the couch as Harry moved his hands from your hips up to the bottom hem of your top and pushed the material up so he could finally look at your pretty breasts. His favorite. He leaned in and suckled your tit into your mouth and you gasped softly.

You began to ride him a little faster, sticky slick noises coming from between your bodies as you writhed up and down his cock.

“Harry!” You shouted his name in a desperate plea. You didn’t know what you were pleading for but you just wanted more. His tongue and lips and teeth on your tits and his heavy, hard dick inside of you were really all a girl could ask for.

Harry moaned and licked over the spot he nipped next to your nipple and moved his lips over your soft flesh as he spoke, “Poor thing… so needy for me. Should have just given in the first time I told you to, baby.”

The couch under you squeaked gently as you rose and fell over him. The relief of having him inside of you had you tearing up.

Harry tilted his head back to look at your face. And just as he expected you were completely insatiable. Your expression was hungry and lusty with your lips parted, a pained look across your features.

Harry cooed at you and slid his hands up from your soft breasts to cup your face and make you kiss him. Your mouths moved together slowly as you shifted over him, slowing down a little now that your mouths were connected.

Harry pulled away, keeping his hands at your face, “Slow down a little bit. Here…” he dropped one hand to your hip and stilled you, pushing you down all the way over his shaft until you were firmly seated in his lap and his tip was stuffed so far inside of you it hurt making you whine and quiver.

“Like that. Just sit and feel me. No need to hurry. Gonna always take care of you. Okay?” His lips pressed over yours again and you moaned into his mouth.

You acted as if you were starved. You canted your hips slightly to glide your clit against his pelvic bone and he gasped and pulled away again, “I know you need it, baby. Just slow down. You were so desperate weren’t you?” He thumbed at your cheek and wiped your tears with a grin, “Always my good girl. Aren’t you?”

You bit your lips and whimpered as you nodded. You felt like a pathetic girl. It was like the moment his cock was inside of you all your good sense flew out the window and you were a melty, needy puppy in despair, deprived of attention and love. You needed more and more and more every time he entered you. It only got worse as the months crawled on and your affair got more serious.

“I wanna be your only good girl. Please…” You slid your shaky fingers into his hair and smoothed your lips over his with a tremulous breath.

Harry rocked upward, dipping into your sensitive insides and you gasped again, parting your lips from his.

“Look at me, Y/n…” Harry spoke as he moved a hand to the back of your neck.

You locked eyes with him and your sad little pout had him leaning in to give you a soft kiss at the corner of your mouth before he looked back into your eyes, “You’re my good girl. No one else. Just you, baby. Understood?”

You nodded and sniffled, “But I’m not,” You jutted your bottom lip out like a child and felt ridiculous. You didn’t know what had you so emotional suddenly. Maybe it was the build-up and all the teasing. Or the way you always gave in to him and he was so cool and secure in himself while you were shaky and desperate.

Harry moved a hand down your back and kept his other hand brushing softly over your cheekbone, “Yes you are. You’re mine. You’re my only.”

You didn’t want to say it. Hated to bring it up but you couldn’t help it or you thought you’d explode if you didn’t tell the truth, “But you’re married. I might be yours but you’re not mine.”

He hadn’t quite expected it. You knew the situation. He couldn’t just leave his wife of 20+ years. It didn’t work that way. But to hear you say it was… well it gave him pause.

“Okay. I am married. But I’m here with you right now, Y/n. Because I’d rather be here with you. Wish I could be here every night. And I would if I could.”

You nodded. You knew he’d prefer to fuck you rather than his wife. That part was understood. But he’d never actually choose you over her when it came down to it. “I know. I’m sorry for bringing it up. I just… I’m starting to…” You swallowed the words your heart wanted to reveal but you stopped, “Just want to see you more I think. Once a week or every other week isn’t good for me. Need you more. I think that’ll make me better. I’m sorry… I don’t know –“

Harry shushed you and stroked your back softly, “I want to see you more too, baby. Should we think of a way to make it twice or three times a week even? Will that make it better?”

You smiled and nodded, “Three times a week? Oh my god…” You kissed him and squealed at the idea of having him three times a week.

Harry laughed and nodded, “If it makes you happy. Didn’t know you needed more, honey. Didn’t want to make you sick of me.”

You laughed in return and shook your head, “I could never be sick of you, Harry. I’m…” You stopped yourself once again. The words on the tip of your tongue but that wouldn’t be fair. To you nor to him. “I’m happy you want that too.”

Harry’s fingers on your face felt soft and comforting, “Of course I want that. I want you happy. And that would make me happier too.”

You felt dizzy with love and excitement as you pasted your lips to his and began to rock your hips slowly again.

You knew you were selfish. Knew you were getting in too deep but you didn’t care. Maybe down the road one day it would hurt but for now, you would be happy with anything he gave you.

Suddenly Harry shifted and brought his arm to cradle you close as he laid you down flat on the couch, his thick cock still inside of you. But now he was hovering over you with a dark smile on his face, “I need to fuck you like you’re mine. Show you I mean it,” he said as he pulled your legs up, calves pressed over his shoulders, and began to roll his hips into you. The springs in the couch cushions danced under your back and creaked as he picked up the pace.

You coughed out a moan and squished your exposed tits together. You still had on your shirt, tugged up above your tits, and your underwear, and Harry still had his clothes on, while his shirt was unbuttoned and his pants were down past his bottom. You were both the picture of neediness, not even bothering to take the time to undress fully.

Harry held onto the back of your thighs as he plunged in and pulled back to his tip, before plowing his cock into the hilt again. Every time his hips met the back of your thighs the sticky sound of your arousal on his cock was unmistakable.

He swatted at your thigh when you began to slip from his hold, your leg wobbling free from his shoulder, “Stay put. Keep your legs up,” he grunted.

You gasped and nodded, “Yes, sir…”

Every dip of himself into you felt divine. His cock pushing into your insides and slipping into your guts repeatedly was noisy and delicious.

Harry moaned, unable to hold back how good it felt to be inside of you.

You looked up at him and saw how gone he was. His soft raspberry lips were parted and his eyes were dark as he gasped and panted. His thrusts were becoming harder and sloppier and he was breathing hard. You wanted his come.

“Need it, Harry. Give it to me…” you whispered as you brought a hand up to his jaw and he kept his eyes on you. He was shaking with desire you could feel it.

“Fuck, honey…” he groaned and clenched his jaw. He wanted to make you come first but his own emotions were getting him keyed up and he was already leaking a steady stream of pre-come into your pussy with each stroke.

He stopped his motions and sucked in a sharp breath as he lowered a hand to your clit, “Need you to come first, okay? Then I’m gonna fill your pussy like you need, baby.”

With his thumb on your clit you cooed in ecstasy. You had no idea what you were saying as you felt electricity begin to thrum through your body, winding its way around your ribs and down your spine, and into your tummy where sparks began to turn to fire as he began thrusting into you again.

“Want you to fuck your come deep into my womb. Breed my pussy, sir…” You moaned your words unable to stop it.

Harry grunted and he popped his eyes open to look down at you in shock. He knew you were on birth control and knew it was highly improbable but still, your words had him reeling and feeding his breeding kink, something that had been dormant for many years. You tended to awaken old feelings he once relished in.

And he wasn’t sure if he actually want to get you knocked up but just hearing that fed into something deep and instinctual that had been pushed down. Something primal. You had unleashed a tsunami of emotions and now this?

He began to hammer into you and your legs fell from his shoulders as he fucked himself down into you so hard you saw stars and you gurgled as you came around him, unable to voice your dirty thoughts as your pussy pulsed and squeezed around him.

“Fuck!” Harry barked loudly when he felt you come and he allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy that you’d tapped into, “Gonna knock you up. Fuck you til your all bred and full with my cock and my babies. That what you want? Stuffed full of me in every fucking way?”

Harry throbbed as he finally poured into you, pushing his cock into you as deep as he could manage, balls tucked up against your bum as he whimpered with each tight roll of his hips upward. Imagining his come seeping into you and having it stick. Getting you pregnant. Making you his forever.

He collapsed over you and slid his tongue into your mouth as you brought your arms around his back to keep him close.

Pure hedonistic, rapturous oblivion.

Your heart pounded as he kissed you and you felt him trembling in your arms just as you were in his.

You longed to speak the words you knew you felt but it wasn’t right. You’d want him to say it first. Wanted him to admit it. Wanted him to want you.

But Harry was feeling it all heavy and deeply just the same. His own longing to show you exactly what he felt and that even though he’d play off those words he spoke as he came inside of you, he meant it in a way. He’d love to see you pregnant with his babies. Have you as his own for good. Tell you what he felt deep down.

You smiled into the kiss and Harry pushed himself up to look down at you.

“Just what I needed, Harry. Always know how to make me feel so so good.” You pushed your fingers into his hair and gazed into his pretty eyes and watched as his grin widened.

“Mmm… Ditto. Need you more than just once a week, baby. I did mean that you know.”

You bit your lip and closed your eyes to let that idea sink in a bit. Harry grunted as he moved and you suddenly felt a pinch at the back of your thigh and you laughed, opening your eyes.

“Did you hear me?”

You nodded, “Yes, sir. Three times a week is what you said. That sounds like as close to perfection as I could ask for.”

Harry nudged his nose to yours and let out a soft breath, “Just want more of you, baby.”

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