#red velvet 7 years | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

steveslevis · 9 months ago

Text

‘tis the damn season

AUTUMN

chapter contents/warnings: exes to whatever the hell this is, a little bit of smut, angst, weed and alcohol use, mutual pining, steve is an idiot and is afraid of commitment </3, barely proofread (sowwy)

w/c: 5.3k

The first big frost of the season blankets the town of Hawkins when you arrive on Wednesday night, the bits of ice glittering on the orange and brown leaves making the barren streets seem less intimidating as you make your way through your hometown for the first time in months.

There’s a sense of anticipation and dread that fills your stomach while navigating the streets you know so well, knowing you’re going to be asked the same mundane questions about college in the big city a thousand times over during the next three weeks. You know that’s not the only thing filling you with dread for the weeks to come, but keep telling yourself that’s all you have to worry about — right?

The first evening you arrive in town is jam-packed, since your friends insisted on having a so-called “Friends-giving-mas” as the night that you arrived, due to your anticipated absence on the aforementioned Christmas. You spend a few hours with your mom and dad before leaving, enlisting your mom to help you make some cookies for the party, promising you’d leave her and your dad some behind.

The clock hits 7 p.m. and you’re finally finished getting ready, having just thrown on a red velvet, long sleeved dress that hit just above your knees and your best black boots, Robin had requested everyone to look their best so she could take photos with her new camera throughout the party. You grabbed your secret santa gift and jacket, checking yourself in the mirror one last time before leaving your room.

“Alright, I’m leaving.” you call out as you bound down the stairs and into the kitchen.

“Don’t forget your cookies, sweetheart! They’re on the table.” she replied from her place next to your dad on the couch, watching some rom-com while he was dozing beside her, “if you need us to come pick you up, we will.”

You let out a laugh at her remark, knowing that you were only walking to the next house over on the road, so picking you up would be ridiculous.

“Oh, I think I’ll manage just fine.” you joke in return while grabbing the plate of cookies, “love you guys!”

—————————

The outside of the Harrington’s house is gleefully lit with warm string lights, wreaths already adorning the front windows and main door to the house in anticipation of Christmas in a few weeks. You always admired the way their house looked during the holidays, but knew it was only a cheery facade to hide the dysfunction that lay within the halls of the residence.

You knew the family all too well, having grown up next to Steve your entire life. You were the same age as him, grew up attending all the same parties as him, but ran in completely different circles than him — well, up until your senior year of high school at least.

Long story short, being best friends with Robin led to you ultimately becoming so-called friends with Steve Harrington as well. The two of you had what you now called a stupid summer fling before you left for Chicago in August, but the rest was history. The two of you had agreed to stay civil and not let the remnants of any unresolved feelings come between your friendship and the rest of the friend group.

So here you were, knocking on Steve Harrington’s front door on a random Wednesday in late November, cookies in hand as you stood there, shivering. You faintly hear Robin say that she would get the door, then hear footsteps pad towards the entrance.

You’re greeted by your best friend with the strongest hug you swear you’ve ever experienced, and you feel like you might not ever be let go if she has anything to say about it.

“Oh my god! I missed you so much.” Robin exclaims, the widest grin on her face as she grabs for your hand, “everyone’s in here, we’re just waiting on Nance and Jonathan then we’ll be ready to eat but come in! I have so much to tell you about everything you don’t even know—”

You follow behind her wordlessly, smiling to yourself as she rambles on about college applications and band and Vickie — who just so happened to be in the kitchen helping finish making the mashed potatoes so you had to be quiet — and everything that she can think to fit in a conversation to catch her best friend up on after months without. She leads you to the dining room after dropping off the cookies, where you hear two familiar voices having a very passionate conversation.

“I’m telling you, man, I’m cursed—“

“You’re not cursed, Harrington. I’m telling you, you’re just looking in the wrong place for love.” Eddie retorts to his frustrated friend, rolling his eyes at him.

“Oh yeah? And where should I be looking?” Steve snorts, haphazardly tossing forks, knives and spoons atop the napkin at each seat of the table.

“I’ve been saying ever since what happened this summer, you should be going after — oh shit, Y/N!” Eddie interjects, cutting himself off when you trail in behind Robin.

The metalhead pulls you in for a bear hug, whispering in your ear about how he promises not to ask you boring questions about college like everyone else. As you’re being engulfed in his embrace, you hear the sound of silverware tumbling to the ground from the other side of the table, followed by a string of mumbled curse words from the dropper.

You pull away from Eddie’s hug to look at where the noise is coming from, only to see Steve fumbling with a fork and spoon while trying to stand up from where he was just kneeling. Your gaze lingers on him for a moment too long, taking in everything about him that you told yourself you didn’t miss. Eddie gives you a knowing look and you roll your eyes, knowing that he’s trying to tell you to not make things weird, so you try your best.

“Stevie, how are you?” you call to him while walking around the table, putting on the best oblivious and excited face that you can.

“H-Hey, Y/N.” Steve says, feigning coolness as he pulls you in for a quick hug, nearly stumbling over his words when you use the nickname you always loved to tease him with, “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

His eyes flicker over to Robin momentarily, who shoots him a guilty grin before mouthing ‘sorry’ over your shoulder.

“Yeah, it was kinda last minute on my part, I just so happened to be coming home tonight since my finals were all at the beginning of the week. I kinda forced Rob to tell me when it would be so I could crash it,” you lie, trying to throw the blame on yourself instead of her, “sorry if I messed anything up, I-I’ll lay low and won’t eat if that messes up numbers or something—“

“No!” Steve rushes to retort, shaking his head at you adamantly, “I mean, shit—sorry. No, you’re not messing anything up at all, you know you’re always welcome here.”

The smile on Steve’s face is genuine as he speaks, but there’s a glint of sadness in his eyes while he scans yours for any sign of hesitancy. You give him a small smile in return, quickly moving your gaze from his to push down that sinking feeling in your chest you know is coming. Your chest aches as you focus your eyes downward, realizing that this night would be a lot harder than you had convinced yourself that it would be.

“Well!” Robin interjects, interrupting the growing awkward silence filling the air of the dining room where you stood. She reached for your hand while smiling over at you sympathetically, beginning to drag you towards the kitchen as she spoke, “gotta go say hello to everyone else before dinner!”

Your best friend whirled you around to the rest of the guests–which was just Nancy, Jonathan, and Vickie–who were all in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on the meal.

A slew of awkward questions about Chicago ensued in the moments leading up to and during dinner, but you took them in stride as they distracted you from the bright eyed boy across the table who kept sneaking glances in your direction any chance he got. You explained your major, what you did for work outside of class time, and talked about all the new friends you met in the short few months you’d been gone. You could’ve sworn Steve’s jaw clenched at the mention of a date you went on prior to leaving for break, but you didn’t put too much thought into it.

Dinner goes by fairly quickly, and then it’s time for Secret Santa gifts in the living room. Robin begged everyone to participate, and even went through the effort of making sure you and Steve didn’t get each other, partly to not ruin the surprise of you being here and partly to diminish any awkwardness that might arise from it.

You had drawn Jonathan’s name, so you gifted him a few rolls of different camera film. Each person had to guess who their Secret Santa was, but apparently your gift was pretty obvious since he hadn’t been able to find any film like it anywhere near Hawkins, so he guessed you first.

Your turn rolled around and a small red gift bag was sat in your lap. You immediately knew who your gift was from, halfway from the grin plastered on his face and halfway from the smell lingering from inside the back in your hands.

“Thank you, Eddie.” you giggle out while pulling out four perfectly rolled blunts from the gift bag, courtesy of the best dealer in Hawkins.

“It’s always a pleasure,” he jabs back, “we can fire one up after presents if you’d like.”

You nod quickly at him, grinning widely before turning back to the circle where Robin was handing out gifts.

—————————

It’s not long before drinks are flowing and laughter is spilling through the Harrington residence, something that’s happened very few times within those halls. The night seems to go by too quickly, you notice how quickly when you check and it says 11 P.M. already, even though it feels like you’ve only been there a few hours. You’re sitting on the couch with Robin and Vickie, giggling their way through a story about some guy in the Hawkins band, when the sight of the back door sliding open and closed catches your eye.

You turn your gaze to see Steve stalking into the cold on his own, head turned down as he walks towards one of the ice-slicked pool chairs on the deck. A frown passes over your face as you furrow your brows, excusing yourself from the couple on the couch as you slip outside to follow him with your bottle of wine, one of your newly gifted blunts and a lighter in hand.

It’s the last thing you should be doing tonight, really. You shouldn’t be following Steve Harrington – the man who was too afraid to say he loved you and too afraid to commit to you – onto the porch. You should’ve stayed inside and drank some more wine with the rest of them and let yourself cut loose for once, but you just couldn’t do it. You just had to talk to him – you weren’t so sure what you wanted to talk about, but you just felt the need to.

“You alright?” was all you could slip out as you closed the sliding glass door, watching the brown haired boy from afar, making sure you weren’t making the wrong decision.

“Yeah–Yeah, just needed a little bit of fresh air.” Steve stammered, eyes widening for only a moment when he notices that it’s you that followed him outside.

You only hum in response, stepping closer to him as you sense no annoyance or anger in his voice, finding a spot on the chilled pool chair next to his. After setting down the bottle of wine you’d been nursing throughout the night, you took the blunt you’d brought as a peace offering between your fingers and waved it in front of his face.

Steve looked up for a moment, gaze shifting between the blunt between your fingers and your lips that curled up into a mischievous yet friendly smirk. His own lips perked up in a lopsided smile, raising an eyebrow at you when you brought the blunt to your lips, followed by the lighter.

“Would you like to partake?” you joke while puffing smoke through your lips, mixing with the cold puffs of breath coming from Steve’s.

“I’ll never say no to that,” he retorts, reaching to grab the blunt from your fingers.

There’s a breath of comfortable silence between the two of you as he inhales, then lets out a long exhale before focusing his gaze back onto the pool in front of him, onto the ice forming on the pool cover as a way to avoid your eyes.

“So, how’s the Stevie Harrington been faring since I’ve been gone?” you joked after a moment more of the quiet, shoving any nerves down that were threatening to force you to run back inside.

Awful, utterly dull and extremely depressing, was what Steve wanted to say.

He wanted to tell you how he fucked up so badly, how he hasn’t been the same since the last time he saw you, how he hasn’t even been able to look at anyone without thinking of you. He wanted to grab you by the cheeks and pull you in for a kiss and never let go. He wanted to scream and tell you how much he regretted ever letting you leave without knowing how he really felt, but he couldn’t now. It was too late, so he just said; “Oh, y’know. I’ve been fine. Just the same shit, different day.”

Steve wanted to kick himself for saying something so lame, something so uninteresting when the most interesting person in the world was sitting right in front of him.

“Does ‘same shit, different day’ just mean you’re stuck being the same old chauffeur-babysitter you’ve been for the last two years?” you tease, reaching down to grab the bottle of wine at your feet.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” Steve chuckled, giving you a warm smile as he took another puff.

It only took a few moments to finally break the ice between the two of you, then things fell right back into place, right back into a comfortable normalcy. There was something that put you so at ease being outside with him, being able to talk to him without the looming thought of who would be the first to say “I love you” or who would be the first to leave waving over both of your heads.

The next hour went by in a breeze, and it seemed the party inside died down by the time the two of you decided to walk back in. Steve closed the sliding glass door behind you two and you noticed only Eddie and Robin were left standing in the living room. Vickie was presumably in the guest bed, where Robin was about to head to. Jonathan and Nancy had left twenty minutes prior, only popping their heads out to say a quick goodbye before driving off.

Robin said a quick goodnight to you before heading up the stairs, along with a promise to see you tomorrow for a girl’s day. Then, it was just you, Eddie and Steve in the living room, Eddie at the couch setting up his bed for the night while the two of you stood in silence by the sliding glass door still.

“I–I guess I should probably head home for the night,” you say, breaking the silence between the three of you as you start towards your bag and coat on the other side of the room.

“Why don’t you just stay?” Steve interjects a little too loudly, the weed and wine in his system instilling some false confidence in him. “It’s so cold out and I’m sure at this point your parents already think you’re staying anyways.”

You stop on your toes at Steve’s voice, cheeks heating at how interested he sounded in you staying there for the night. It’s not like it was a far and dangerous walk, Steve just wanted an excuse to be around you for longer. You turn around to look at him, then to Eddie, who was giving you a tired smile.

“We can have a sleepover on the couch,” Eddie chuckles, reaching for one of the pillows he was setting out for himself to move it to the other side of the couch for you.

“I don’t have any clothes,” you suggest, looking down at your velvet dress that would be extremely uncomfortable to sleep in.

“Oh, I’m sure Stevie has some clothes that you can sleep in!” Eddie says, shooting a smirk in his direction.

“O–Of course I do, I’m sure I still have your favorite pajama pants up there if you want them.” Steve says hurriedly, as if you would change your mind if he didn’t answer quickly enough.

You give the two of them a smile, pretending to contemplate the decision for a moment before nodding. You could’ve sworn you heard Steve let out a breath of relief at your nod, but he turned towards the stairs before you could acknowledge it. Without a word, you follow right behind him up the stairs, slowly realizing the effects of the cherry wine and weed are coming to the surface.

Steve steps into his bedroom and you follow behind him, a situation the two of you knew all too well.

—————————

You don’t know what led to this, but there you were, in Steve’s bedroom, him towering over your space on his bed as he pulled you in for a heated kiss. Tongue against teeth, hands against cheeks, legs tangled together, just like they were meant to be.

This wasn’t supposed to happen, you swore to yourself you wouldn’t come crawling back every time you were in town, but here you were.

Somehow coming upstairs for a stupid pair of pajamas led to Steve giving you that look of lust and utter desire, led to you becoming a willing participant in his games once again after swearing you would never touch him again, led to you letting him sneak his way into your heart – and pants – yet again.

Your head is spinning as he kisses you, his lips slotted into yours like they belonged there, a perfect fit. You’re unsure if it’s the wine, the weed or the sheer yearning that’s making you feel like this, but you don’t want it to stop any time soon.

There’s a gnawing feeling in your stomach when Steve props his knee up on the bed next to your hip, you know you should stop before he gets any further, but the ache between your thighs is outweighing any thought of what would come after he spreads you open.

Steve groans into your mouth when you pull him closer, fingers intertwining with and tugging the hair at the nape of his neck, and you only smirked against his lips in satisfaction. You knew everything about the boy who was turning to a puddle just from the touch of your fingers. You knew exactly how to make him tick, and him the same for you.

“Fuck,” Steve breathes when he finally pulls away from you, full lips parted as he stares down at you. There’s a twinkle in his eye that you haven’t seen in so long, one you used to mistake for love but now only know to be pure lust. “I–I’m sorry I just, I need–I need you.”

You stare at the desperate, doe-eyed man in front of you for a long moment, mind wandering to a place of fear as you think about what you’re about to do.

Instead of saying anything in reply, you close the space between the two of you once again, smashing your lips into his in a feverish and bruising kiss. Steve is on you in an instant, gently pushing you back and up on the bed, letting your head fall on his pillows. You can tell by the way he stumbles on his way up to you that he’s intoxicated — on the weed or the wine, or you, you’re not sure — but you soon realize that you are too.

A hand wanders toward the hem of Steve’s sweater, tugging at it quickly as he pulls away from the bruising kiss. He wastes no time in pulling the cable-knit up and over his head, tossing it to the side while sitting up on his knees to take you the sight of you in. Your skin was hot and your eyes were blown with lust, cheeks flushed and lips parted as you stared up at him.

You’d only been under him for a minute and had completely folded to his touch. You cursed yourself for letting your inhibitions crumble so quickly, but another part of you didn’t actually care, the same part of you that wanted to claim him as yours forever.

Steve’s eyes trailed over you, from your cheeks to the low neckline of your dress, over the curve of your hips, ending on your thighs spread on either side of his knees. The crushed velvet of your skirt bunched where your leg met your hip, letting the fabric ride up enough for Steve to see exactly what he was searching for.

He sucked in a breath at the sight of your white lace underwear beneath, having to hold himself back from diving in right that second.

“You’re so beautiful,” he groaned, hands tracing over your hip bones while lowering his lips to yours once again.

A moan falls from your lips as his meet yours, his knee coming up between your thighs, creating friction against your core.

“Fuck—Stevie,” you say, choking back a pitiful whine while grinding against his thigh desperately, “please, I need you.”

You swear you hear Steve nearly choke at your words, three words he’d been dying to hear from you for months.

“I know, I know, baby.” he coos at you, trying to keep his cool as he strains against his pants, “I’ll take care of you.”

You nod feverishly as he leans down to pepper kisses along your neck, taking his sweet time while trying not to get drunk off the scent of you.

“This—This doesn’t mean anyth—this doesn’t change anything,” he stammers between kisses, peering up at you as he speaks, “we can still stay close—keep being friends after this.”

You hum in agreement, ignoring the dread building in your gut as you do. You want to be more than friends, you want to scream at him until he admits that he loves you too. But he nearly said it doesn’t mean anything, so you’re convinced he wants nothing to do with you after tonight, nothing but a friend to laugh with and a pretty face to fuck on every break from college.

You push the thoughts from your mind, focusing on the boy in front of you as his hands begin to massage your inner thighs, inching closer and closer to your core with every circle. Steve chuckles lowly as you let out a whine of anticipation, teasing you silently as he gives in to your desires.

Steve knows your body like he knows his own, so what comes after pulling off your dress is nearly second nature to him. One large hand trails to the waistband of your underwear while the other reaches for your breast, nipple peaked from the exposure to the cold air conditioning. You moan in surprise when he wastes no time in putting his mouth to work on your other nipple, tugging your underwear down your legs simultaneously.

His fingers immediately fall to your core once you’re free of the underwear, fingertips circling the bundle of nerves at the top as you let out another whimper.

His moves are careful but quick, he knows you want to waste no more time, and you’ll whine about his teasing if he doesn’t act soon.

He’s out of his boxers in an instant, one hand keeping contact with your clit as he situates himself above you.

“You look so good like this, sweetheart.” Steve says, voice low as his eyes raked over your body, “so pretty spread out for me, all fucked out for me even though I’ve barely touched you.”

“Stevie…” you whimper, reaching a hand up to him, but he pulls from your reach with a smirk across his face.

“Tell me what you want from me,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek as he lines himself up with your slick, teasing the tip against you slowly.

“I—I need you, Steve.” you beg, cheeks flushing at the admittance, “I need you to fuck me, please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” he retorts with a smirk, sliding into you with ease.

You both let out a low moan as he bottoms out, filling you in a way you haven’t felt in a long time. You forgot how thick he was in the time you’d been gone, your body wasn’t used to the stretch of his cock inside you, but it still felt like he was meant to be there. Like he was the only one who could make you feel this way.

And you were right, nobody could make you feel that way. Nobody else could touch you and make you fall apart in less than five minutes like he could. Nobody else could get you so riled up over a few praises thrown in with some condescension (which you embarrassingly loved too much) like he could. Nobody could hold off from cumming long enough to give you three orgasms before getting one of their own like he could.

Nobody did it like he could.

This doesn’t mean anything you repeat in your mind, clinging to his arm like your life depended on it after the two of you calmed your breathing and cleaned up. You weren’t sure if you were repeating those words to convince yourself or to ease your own mind about what just went down, but you knew they stung your heart more than any fighting words the two of you had ever exchanged.

“I missed this, cuddling with you, holdin’ you like this.” was all he slurred out against your hair, pressing a sleepy kiss into the crown of your head.

“Yeah, me too.” you mumble in return, accepting the warmth of his embrace as sleep finally took you in, ignoring the gnawing pain growing in your chest.

—————————

The spice of Steve’s cologne mixes with the familiar scent of his room, filling your senses when you wake, nearly sending you into a panic. You sit upright in the bed, turning to face the boy you claimed you wanted nothing to do with romantically just a few hours ago. Steve is sleeping peacefully next to you, plush lips parted and brows furrowed as he subconsciously pouts about the loss of your touch. The alarm clock behind him read 2:03 A.M., meaning you hadn’t been out for too long, but long enough to sober you up somehow.

Shit. Shit. Shit. I gotta get out of here. Is all you can think as you stumble out from under the comforter, knowing you would never live it down if anyone found you’d slept in his bed, especially with your limbs entangled like they just were. You quickly dress in the clothes you’d originally come into the bedroom to fetch, and snuck out of the bedroom without a sound.

Before making it to the living room, you turned toward the dimly lit kitchen for a glass of water. What you weren’t expecting to be faced with in the kitchen was Eddie, but there he was, leaning against the counter with disheveled hair that probably mirrored your own.

“What a night so far, huh?” he jokes as you shoot him a knowing glare while trudging across the tiled floor.

“Don’t even start with me, Munson.” you warn, absentmindedly reaching your hand up to the cabinet for a glass while shaking your head.

“Woah, don’t get that attitude with me! I didn’t say anything,” he laughs, setting his own glass into the sink, “but that also doesn’t mean I didn’t hear anything.”

“You did not,” you snap back, eyes wide and cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he gives you a shit-eating grin, “there’s no way you heard anything because nothing happened.”

“You’ve always been such a bad liar, Y/N.” Eddie laughs, stepping out of the kitchen to walk towards the living room where the two of you would be sleeping.

A sigh escapes your lips when Eddie leaves, letting you be alone with your thoughts finally. There was an ache in your chest that wasn’t going away any time soon, and it was in that moment that you wondered if you would ever be able to get over Steve Harrington, or if you would be in a continuous cycle of hurt and comfort for the rest of your damned life.

You collected your thoughts as you downed a glass of water, throwing back two ibuprofens with the last chug for good measure, before finding your way back to the living room. Eddie was on his side on the long side of the L-shaped couch, leaving the shorter side for you to sleep on. His eyes were closed as you laid down with your feet next to his own, but you knew he wasn’t asleep yet.

“I won’t tell anyone, I promise.” you heard through the darkness after turning off the table lamp once you were settled.

“I know.” you sigh in return, staring up at the ceiling that was only lit by the streetlights flowing in from outside. “I just don’t want to live like this forever, I–I can’t keep being the secret that Steve is too embarrassed to talk about.”

“He’s not embarrassed of you,” Eddie said, voice barely above a whisper, just loud enough for you to hear, “he’s just afraid of fucking everything up even more than he already has.”

If only he could say that to my face, then maybe I’d believe it, you thought to yourself, chest tightening at just the thought of the brown-eyed boy who was fast asleep upstairs.

You don’t reply to Eddie, unsure of what to say back, unsure of what you could squeak out without breaking down.

“Goodnight, Eds,” is all you say in return, though you know you won’t be getting any sleep.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

—————————

After falling asleep for all of fifty minutes around 5 in the morning, you decided you had to leave.

The entirety of the almost four hours you laid on Steve’s couch consisted of staring at the ceiling and fighting off tears while thinking about how you regretted everything you said and did over the last twelve hours.

Coming to the Harrington house was a mistake, even stepping foot back in Hawkins was feeling like a mistake at this point.

The only words repeating in your mind were This doesn’t mean anything. This doesn’t mean anything. This doesn’t mean anything.

You eventually had enough of the self-loathing and inability to sleep, so it was time to go. It was time to hastily change out of the pajamas that smelled too much like the boy you loved too hard, and time to go collapse in your own bed. There was no telling if you’d actually fall asleep once you made it there, but that was beside the point.

It was when you finally made it back to your parent’s house, to your childhood bedroom, that you swore that you wouldn’t see Steve Harrington again for the rest of Thanksgiving break, and hopefully would avoid seeing him again for a long while, for the sake of saving yourself from another heartbreak.

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tags: @carinacassiopeiae

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stevis writes #ttds*

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sapphicromanoffxo · 7 months ago

Text

Good Vibrations | n.r x w.m

ʚɞ°｡⋆ Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

ʚɞ°｡⋆ wc: 3.8k

ʚɞ°｡⋆ warnings: Top Nat, Bottom Wanda, semi-public sex, use of strap on & vibrator, oral sex, degradation, praise kink, mommy kink

ʚɞ°｡⋆ summary: It was supposed to be a simple date night between Natasha and Wanda. Until one of them decided to spice up their night with a different vibe.

A/N: hello hello! I'm just dropping by to post this fic in celebration of Pride Month! 🏳️‍🌈 I had a little kick of inspiration lately (courtesy of this one cute girl 🥰) and I was finally able to finish writing this. Be gay and kiss that pretty girl already. 🫶 Happy reading! 🤩

╰┈➤ Masterlist

"Would you care to join me for a date this evening?"

Wanda felt the excitement bubble up within her as Natasha invited her on a date, knowing every detail would be meticulously planned by the redhead.

"Absolutely, Natasha." Wanda beamed at her girlfriend. "Where are we going?"

Natasha gently touched Wanda's cheek, amused by her curiosity. "It's a surprise. I'll be at your door at 7 PM to pick you up. I've already laid out the dress you'll be wearing." With a wink, Natasha headed to the training room.

Wanda rushed to her room, discovering a large velvet box on her bed with a note that read, "For tonight. xoxo." Squealing with delight, she prepared herself for the upcoming date night.

The brunette began her afternoon preparations by indulging in a soothing hot bath to ease her muscles after an intense training session that morning and to also give her body the chance to relax for what's about to happen this evening. With a year of dating Natasha, she knew their night will not end until the sun rises up. Following Pepper's suggestion for laser hair removal, Wanda found relief from the hassle of shaving, and Natasha grew more captivated by the change.

With only 30 minutes left, Wanda looked at herself in the mirror to see if everything was perfectly in place, including the bullet-shaped toy which is currently buried between her legs. Natasha also left a request for her to not wear any panties. Leave it to Natasha to have a surprise within a surprise to spice up even more their evening. You will never see Wanda complain as she trusts Natasha so much that she's willing to submit to whatever her girlfriend has planned for her.

Wanda heard a series of gentle knocks echoing against the door, prompting her to take a deep breath in anticipation. As she opened the door, Natasha stood before her clad in a stylish black polo with three undone buttons at the top giving a tantalizing view of her neck adorned with two necklaces and her red lacy bra, her figure was accentuated by a sleek black belt adorned with a gold buckle, cinching her waist deliciously. Completing the ensemble, the wide plaid slacks elegantly emphasised her natural heavenly curves, creating a captivating silhouette. Her eyes are painted with eyeliner, sharp enough to kill, while her lips are painted with a seductive burgundy lipstick, adding a touch of allure to her overall appearance.

The vision in front of Wanda is mouth watering and her internal assessment of her girlfriend was interrupted when her waist was snatched and her back was pushed to the adjacent wall.

"Oh, detka. I know this dress would look good on you." Natasha whispered into her ears, sending shivers down her spine. "Too bad I can't kiss you yet." She further added with an arrogant smirk on her face.

"Natasha.." Wanda grabbed Natasha's biceps and purred when she felt her hand ghosting over the slit of the dress that goes all the way to the top of her thigh.

"Red really looks good on you, detka."

Natasha could not resist and left open-mouthed kisses on her neck, and dipped further down, carefully nipping her collarbone. Thankfully, it did not leave any marks as Natasha is wearing a transfer-proof lipstick. Her hand wandered upwards going to her ass, giving it a good squeeze which made Wanda yelp in surprise.

"Natasha, please. We're going to be late if we keep this up."

"Are you wearing it?" Natasha inquired once she detached her filthy mouth on brunette's neck and her hand went on to check what's in between her legs instead. Wanda only nodded in response then gasped loudly when Natasha pushed the hilt of the toy deeper inside her. "Hmm. No panties. My good girl."

After playfully teasing Wanda, Natasha decided it was time to leave. With a warm smile, she extended her hand towards Wanda, "Shall we go?"

Wanda rolled her eyes at Natasha and answered a simple yes.

This time, Natasha got to fully appreciate her lover's outfit for the night and found herself enchanted while they were walking in the compound's hallway. Natasha specifically chose a vibrant red satin dress with an elegant cinched waist for Wanda. The dress also highlights Wanda's ample tits, leaving little to the imagination. Oh dear, Natasha doesn't think she can keep her hands to herself when Wanda looks like sex on legs with her thigh peeping out of the slit.

***

Natasha has chosen a cozy restaurant with secluded private room seating, creating an ideal setting for an intimate and romantic date. Anticipating Wanda's preferences, Natasha took the initiative to pre-order their favorite dishes. Adding an extra touch of thoughtfulness, she decided to let Wanda indulge in the chef's selection of wines, allowing her to unwind and savor the evening in the most delightful way possible.

In the intimate glow of the private restaurant, Natasha and Wanda shared stolen glances, their fingers intertwining like a secret promise. Soft candlelight danced on their faces as they savored each bite and every minute of this night. The world outside seemed to fade away as Wanda's eyes held galaxies of unspoken emotions, mirrored in Natasha's seductive gaze.

While Wanda was drinking the second glass of wine for the night, she felt a subtle vibration within her which made her slightly choke on her wine and she felt herself quiver from the sensation. Still not understanding what was happening, she looked at her girlfriend with confusion, "Natasha?"

"Yes, baby?" The redhead answered with an innocent smile on her pretty face.

"Don't tell me this is ahh–!" Wanda almost yelled when the vibration hit its peak, realising what's happening in between her legs and instinctively closing them in.

"Are you feeling alright, detka?" Natasha inquired with an unconcerned tone.

Goddamn her, Wanda thought to herself as her insides pulse again, this time the setting is building higher and higher. She should have expected that the toy is not just a toy but is also a vibrator. She brought down the glass and both of her hands are gripping the edge of the table as she's trying so hard not to let out a single sound, or moan from her mouth.

Natasha pulled her attention with a gentle touch, intertwining their hands, and the woman's face lit up with a grin reminiscent of the Cheshire cat, "What's wrong, baby?", she asked once again and Wanda felt like flipping the table over.

Wanda cleared her throat first as the vibration stopped and glared at her girlfriend , her eyes turning red which could send an enemy to surrender, "What the hell are you thinking–!"

The beginning of her rant was yet again cut off by a stronger vibration this time, effectively shutting her up, legs shaking violently and thank God the long curtains of the table concealed how her whole lower body was convulsing.

No matter how hard Wanda tried to control herself, a whimper came out loudly from her and this caused her to tumble over the sea of beautiful noises that Natasha likes hearing.

"Shhh, be quiet for me, detka. You don't want others to hear you being a slut for me." Natasha taunted with no remorse and mercy. "Whoring yourself out while I'm not even touching you yet. How pathetic." She further added while lowering the setting of the remote she's been holding in her pocket.

"Can we go — oh my fucking god — home now, please?" Wanda pleaded as she felt her insides tremble once again. If Natasha continues with her sadistic plot, she fears she won't be able to maintain her composure much longer and bursts right there in her seat.

"But honey, I haven't had my dessert yet."

A strangled moan left Wanda's mouth at Natasha's response, wanting to either wipe the grin off Natasha's face or kiss her senseless. Natasha is looking at her intensely as if she's planning something more scandalous to perform. Wanda can almost feel her pussy leaking and fear that it may stain her dress, and the velvet cushion of the chair she's sitting on.

All of the sudden, the vibration stopped and Natasha stood up from her seat.

"Are you alright?" Natasha inquired, standing behind Wanda and placing her right hand on Wanda's chest to feel her erratic heartbeats.

Wanda rolled her eyes at Natasha's inquiry, pondering whether her girlfriend was genuinely concerned or simply teasing her but still nodded in response.

"My good girl." Natasha smiled down at her and leaned down to kiss her shoulder blade. "Sit down on the table."

"Natasha, we shouldn't." Wanda protested with wide eyes, not wanting to risk exposing themselves to having sex in a restaurant, still wanting to have her decorum intact.

Natasha merely arched her eyebrow and gave her a serious look, silently challenging Wanda to defy her and refuse what she wanted.

After a minute of contemplation, she surrendered under Natasha's deadly gaze and positioned herself the way she was instructed. Natasha situated herself in between Wanda's legs, placing them on her shoulders while sitting down on the vacant chair.

Natasha then parted Wanda's dress through the thigh high slit so she can have a perfect view of her girlfriend's naked pussy. "I like you like this, sweetheart. All dolled up for me." She began kissing the inside of Wanda's exposed thighs and simultaneously caressing the smooth expanse of her long legs. "You look so pretty, baby."

A soft sigh left Wanda's mouth as she felt the feather light kisses and soft caress on her thighs. However, her eyes kept on darting to the door, feeling anxious that someone may catch them.

"Natasha, someone might come in." Wanda breathed out and gripped on Natasha's hair.

"Don't worry about that, baby. I've told the manager of the restaurant to leave us alone, unless I ask for a waiter to come in." Natasha reassured, her mouth moving upwards to Wanda's aching pussy.

"What about if they have cameras here?" Wanda voiced out her concern again, not wanting to have anyone see them in a compromising position.

"I've swept off the floor for any cameras or bugs. We're safe here, I promise." Natasha straightened up and gave her signature side smirk. "Can I have my dessert now without any peep from you?"

Still hesitating, Wanda gave a soft okay and that's all the redhead needed before resuming in kissing the insides of her thighs. One thing that Natasha loves is worshipping Wanda's body, showing how much she adores every inch of the soft skin, trailing feather light touches that will then escalate to groping and leaving either bite marks or bruises. This foreplay prolongs their inner most desires, gradually building up the intense pleasure that they will have in the end.

However, Wanda is not always fond of the slow burn of romance and foreplay. She likes to be devoured at an instant, tethering on the edge of orgasm within minutes, whining and begging to be fucked like an animal in heat, always searching for the reachable high and would gladly be taken again and again for as long as she can. But with Natasha, Wanda has learned to be patient before they get on the main event or course of the evening.

The vibrator hummed once again, startling Wanda and before she could react, Natasha dived right into her aching clit, making her eyes roll back and moan in wanton. The pool between her legs is overflowing from the stimulation that the toy is giving, making Natasha's chin drip with her wetness.

Sucking, biting and flicking Wanda's clit, Natasha relentlessly weaves her tongue from left to right shifting to up and down strokes, making sure to hit all the right places that will make Wanda tremble from extreme pleasure.

The heels of Wanda's stiletto are digging on Natasha's muscled back not caring if it will rip off the fabric or ruin it. There's a lot happening all at once inside her that makes her spine shudder from the endless pit pleasure, running higher and higher as the seconds go by.

"Natasha, baby–!" Wanda's scream came out rugged as the coil in her stomach continued to tighten uncontrollably, begging to be snapped to relieve the tension. "I'm so fucking close, Nat. Good God!"

With both of Natasha's arms holding on the sides of Wanda's upper body, she stopped for a moment to check on girlfriend, "Are you comfortable? Hold on to my head instead, baby. I don't want you to fall over the table."

Wanda shifted and placed her right hand on Natasha's hair, gripping it tightly while the other was positioned slightly behind her to support her upper body. Both of Natasha's hands are holding onto her thighs and leaned down again to lap up her throbbing core with much ferocity. Natasha's tongue feels so warm and torturous on her puffy clit but Wanda welcomes all the sensation in her pussy eagerly, making her a babbling hot mess. "Faster, faster, please. Feels so fucking good– hmp!"

Natasha's right hand adjusted the remote in her pocket and changed the settings to the highest level, quite literally making Wanda's head spin, her insides shaking intensely from the crazy amount of vibration in her cunt while Natasha is still simultaneously sucking on her stiff bud with great enthusiasm.

"Natasha! Natasha!" Wanda chanted incoherently, gripping Natasha's hair tightly this time, "I'm gonna– I'm cumming– fuck!"

Another gush of wetness streamed down from Wanda's cunt, her slick dripping through her ass, and pushing the toy out of her, barely hanging from the edge. Her head is spinning in multiple directions and she's quite sure it will take a couple of minutes before she will calm down from the height of her intense orgasm. With a steadying breath, she clenched her still throbbing pussy, making the toy totally slide out of her slippery hole and landed right on Natasha's front.

Natasha glanced at the mess in her pants, a mischievous grin playing on her lips as she saw the toy's fluids scattered across the front of her shirt, resulting in a noticeable white mark and damp spot down her crotch. She hid the toy in her pocket, stood up,and gently placed Wanda's legs around her waist, "Look at what you've done to my shirt and pants, baby." Natasha breathed in awe, her eyes glittering with satisfaction.

Head still delirious, Wanda whimpered upon realising that the toy is no longer inside her and it indeed made a mess on Natasha's clothes. However, she's still regaining her breath and too immersed in bliss to mind.

The redhead reached down to cup Wanda's enticing tits. "Damn, these nipples are begging to be sucked, baby." Natasha remarked devilishly as she groped Wanda's boobs a little too aggressively. "I'm so obsessed with these. I could stare at them all day if I wanted to."

A loud whimper escaped Wanda's mouth and her eyes rolled back as Natasha continued to play with her clothed cleavage. Before she could plead for nipples to be touched with Natasha's tongue, Wanda noticed a prominent bulge in her pants that was currently poking her bare center. She looked up at her girlfriend and asked in disbelief, "You're packing?"

"Why shouldn't I be, hm?" Natasha's thumb caressed Wanda's cheek softly and captured her lips for a small kiss. When she pulled back, she got another devilish smile on her face.

"You– you're going to fuck me here?" Wanda gulped while anticipating Natasha's response.

"Would you like me to, detka?" Natasha whispered seductively in her ear. "I bet you want my cock filling your tight, little cunt, hm?"

It's pathetic how Wanda immediately folds at Natasha's dirty words knowing that she will give in right away with no hesitation. "I want to feel you inside me, please. Please!"

Natasha started to unbuckle her belt, loosening it a bit. "So desperate and needy. Aren't you satisfied with how I made you cum minutes ago?" she taunted. "Unfortunately, I can't fuck you on this table because I know I will break it." She then wrapped her right arm around Wanda while her left was holding her thigh securely, hoisted her up then walked towards the nearby wall.

"Natasha…!" Wanda whimpered pathetically the moment she was pinned to the wall, and without wasting any seconds, Natasha started assaulting her neck like a starved animal who's always in a hunt for skin.

"Shhh, baby. Let Mommy make you feel good, yeah? Isn't that what you want? To be fucked like a slut, like a whore, hm?" Natasha's mouth further travelled down her chest and this time, her hand pulled down the thin strap of Wanda's dress and so she could finally latch her tongue on her nipples. "Such pretty tits."

Lost for words, Wanda only moaned enthusiastically at the attention that Natasha is giving her boobs. She knew for sure that she would let Natasha do anything to her at this point as she succumbed even further into needy headspace. Her breath shuddered in anticipation once Natasha leaned back and started to unbuckle her belt, pushing down her pants using only one hand as the other was holding Wanda's upper body. Natasha's amazing physique comes in very handy in times like that, her strength adds more to her allure which is making Wanda's head spin even further.

"I'm going to fuck you real good, baby." Natasha groaned as she lined up her cock on Wanda's dripping cunt. "You will walk out of her with a limp 'cause you're my slut, yeah?"

In one swift thrust and without warning, Natasha buried her cock in Wanda's pussy, pulling it all the way out just to ram it back in roughly. This caused the witch to cry out in both pain and pleasure, and held onto Natasha's shoulder tightly.

"Natasha! Be gentle, please. Ngh!" Wanda pleaded, as she needed to fully adjust first to Natasha's length before she could relax and embrace the pleasure. But Natasha is now in the mood to fuck her senseless, hard and fast against the wall and being gentle is not in her plan tonight. Then, Natasha positioned both her hands behind Wanda's thighs, pressing them against her chest and gripping tightly to prevent slipping down the wall.

"Don't tell me what to do. I will fuck you the way I want to 'cause you're my toy, remember?" Natasha forcefully grabbed Wanda's chin to assert her domineering stand, making Wanda back down and accept her fate in an instant. "This pussy is mine to fuck and abuse. So I will use it however I see fit."

The end of her sentence was punctuated with deep, long, hard thrusts, and Natasha's grunts on Wanda's ear sounded so animalistic. The brunette feared that she might be split in half if Natasha continued mercilessly drilling her into the wall, but she couldn't find it in her heart to make her lover stop.

"Mommy—"

Wanda struggles in breathing as her mouth gives out little gasps combined with her moans every time Natasha drives her hips forward in rapid succession. She knows that her lower back will suffer later in the evening from being planted on the wall once they're done fucking.

Natasha was mesmerised with how she can reduce Wanda in this state, with her tits bouncing at each hard thrusts and mouth hanging open. She also watched closely how Wanda's face contorts in pleasure, she's damn well sure that it's the best thing she's ever seen in her life. With Wanda's pupil blown wide, her green eyes glow differently albeit being unfocused and barely open when she's in the height of pleasure, "Open up your pretty eyes when I fuck you like this, baby. Don't you dare close them or else I will stop."

Wanda obliged without hesitation at her girlfriend's demand. Their intimate eye contact seems to be her undoing as she feels all the fluttering sensation deep in her stomach, signalling that she's near her second orgasm. The pleasure has already built up when she first came and despite her efforts to hold it longer, Natasha's intense gaze betrays her body response.

"Baby! I'm cumming again. Fuck! Fuck!"

Upon hearing Wanda's words, Natasha doubled her efforts in slamming her dick in Wanda's slippery pussy just to make sure her girl gets her best back-breaking orgasm that will leave her whole body weak afterwards. She also leaned forward to capture Wanda's lips and contained her moans in the process as it got louder and louder as she reached her orgasm. Although the sounds that are coming out from Wanda are the hottest thing she's ever heard, they cannot afford to be heard outside, in fear that their names will be plastered all over the tabloids the next day.

"You're so fucking tight around me, baby. That's it. That's it. Cum for me." Natasha cooed into Wanda's ear, while still holding her thighs tightly to guide her to her climax and the witch could literally see stars swimming behind her eyes as she descended further up into the endless pleasure that Natasha is driving her into.

As Wanda's heart settled from its erratic beats, she gently lifted her eyelids, only to find Natasha's gaze already fixed upon her. Unlike the intense passion of moments prior, Natasha's eyes now held a tender smile, devoid of any hint of the earlier demonic mood. This time, Wanda's heart swelled with affection, reminded once again of the depth of her love for Natasha.

With a soft, loving gaze, Natasha loosened her hold on Wanda and proudly declared, "I love you," her words imbued with deep sincerity.

Wanda enveloped Natasha in her arms, drawing her close, and wrapped her legs around her waist, craving the sensation of her melting into her embrace. "Baby, I love you too, more than words can express," she murmured, her heart overflowing with emotion. Pulling back slightly, she locked eyes with Natasha. "It's like my heart would burst from how much."

Natasha chuckled softly and touched Wanda's cheeks softly. "Well, we wouldn't want that happening right here, right now, would we, baby? But you're my everything, my lifeline."

Wanda felt her eyes moisten and a gentle warmth tugged her heart with Natasha's sweetness. Natasha, typically reserved with her feelings towards Wanda, made each instance of vulnerability a precious gift in their relationship. It was these rare moments that Wanda treasured the most, knowing the depth of Natasha's affection and the sincerity behind her words.

Noticing the change in Wanda's mood, Natasha quickly made a remark to lighten up the witch, "Aww, don't cry baby. Save your tears for later when I fuck you dumb on the couch."

"Let's head home now then, Nat," Wanda suggested, her voice laced with excitement. "So I can peel you out of this sexy outfit of yours and this time, I'll return the favor."

PS: special thanks to my broo @delulu-with-wandanat cause this fic was made out of our late night brainrots. Looking forward to our next session iykwim. 🫦🫦

#wandanat #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #natasha x wanda #wandanat fanfiction #wlw #marvel #scarlet witch #black widow

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potatomountain · 9 days ago

Text

Winter Wonder- CJH

❄️Pairing: Choi Jongho x older fem reader

❄️WC: 7.6k (17 pages)

❄️AU: "holiday trope"? strangers to lovers

❄️Genre: Fluff, Smut

❄️Summary: Either go home for the holidays, or cash in on a free 2 week vacation at a ski resort despite a massive dislike for the snow? The choice was easy, though when a stranger decides that you being alone for the holidays is a travesty, you don't seem to mind the snow at all; not when he's part of the scenery.

❄️Warnings/smut: a lil holiday depression/loneliness, hints of a not great family life, Jongho reading smut, petnames like Darling and Beautiful, some anxiety over the age gap (its like 5-7 years) smut warnings: fingering, penetration without a condom but IUD, a moment of cum-eating, creampie, some cockwarming.

❄️AN: This is for the @lapydiaries winter event with the tropes "Don't want to go home for the Holidays" and "Not a holiday person"! This is also for my secret Santa event in @mirohs-aurora-society, so, @yourlocaljonghoe I hope you love this! (though im sure you guessed it was me as well)

❄️Honorable tags: @bunnliix, @adelusionforyourthoughts, and @yourfatherlucifer for being my beta's as always <3 Banner and dividers made by me <3

Holidays were not your thing, neither was the cold, but this year you had to pick one or the other. Go home for the holidays, endure your family’s questions that were judgemental stabs posed as questions of concern, or use the free vacation you won to a ski resort?

The choice was easy.

You lied to your family, saying these were the only days you could cash it in, knowing that if you had just stayed home they would have bothered you anyways. So the plan was simple, just enjoy the fancy resort, as it had the hot tub and sauna, fine dining, great room service, and plenty of heat in the suite you secured. You could catch up on some books, work out in the gym, just… relax.

That was the best holiday gift you could give yourself, even if it was surrounded by snowy mountains and freezing cold. Stepping into the resort, the heat that seemed to immediately start melting the snow on your jacket and boots, the cold leaving you with a shiver down your spine.

It was definitely a nice resort, you couldn’t even tell there were snowy mountains all around from inside. Everything about the interior was warm and inviting, decorated for the holidays with garland wrapping around the giant oak pillars in the large lobby, an arched ceiling with intricate carvings on the wood, painted golden to match more of the gold accents all throughout the place. All of it flickering light from the stone fireplace against the wall furthest to the right of the doors, right past a curved staircase up into the second floor.

It looked like a nice area to cozy up with a book, considering to the left of the entrance, through glass doors, seemed to be the ski rentals and hub for skiers to head out. It looked a bit crowded, full of mostly men, or small families, even the workers behind the counter had on a thick sweater from the doors outside constantly opening from the foot traffic. You didn’t see yourself stepping in there at all, and no need to: there was plenty to enjoy here.

Like the room.

After checking in, you had found yourself in a grander room than you had expected, one of the smaller suites. The unfortunate thing was that it was in the wing most skiers were put, with a separate entrance so they could drag their snowy equipment up to their rooms. There was already a trail of snow in your hall, but the room itself made up for it.

A small metal fireplace in the corner, a chaise lounge just out of reach but close enough you could feel the heat, with plenty of space even with the massive bed on the other side of the bed, with an oak canopy with red velvet curtains and warmer bedding. But the bathroom, oh the large jacuzzi tub big enough to fit two of you with plenty of room to spare looked like heaven, especially with the accommodations of a bath table, candles, and a set of bath oils and bombs complimentary of the store you had won the room through.

And the view? You might not be the biggest fan of snow, but there was something breathtaking about the snowy peak and trees you could see from your balcony. Faced to the side of the mountain that didn’t have the ski slopes, the airlines that took guests up, it was pure untouched scenery. And somehow as relaxing as the small fire you started up.

Hours later, after a relaxing bath, and unpacking half of your things, you wanted to see what else the resort had to offer, especially since the sun had set and you were hungry.

With no one you knew who would criticize your outfit either, you dressed up for your own benefit, just to feel nice in your own skin, before heading downstairs to the restaurant and bar. While only the room and transport to and from the resort were paid for these two weeks, food and other things were on you; having been saving up for a vacation anyways, it wasn’t really a problem.

In fact, why not have a bottle of wine or some drinks with your dinner? Just to celebrate, well, yourself. A nice, stress free, relaxing trip as far from your normal worries as you could get. No shame in sitting at a table near the bar alone, no shame looking at the prices as your mouth watered at the long list of food they did have. No shame, just enjoyment, for once in your life. At least that’s how it felt.

It wasn’t so easy to turn yourself into vacation mode as you thought though, even as you had placed your order and sat with a drink in your hand, book open and eyes glued to the page. Even then, you were well aware of the couples and families around. The groups of friends, the joy they were having celebrating their holidays and each other. One particular group stood out to you, what looked like a bunch of men younger than you, all huddled around the bar with boisterous laughter ordering shots and talking about their skiing for the day.

There was a tinge of isolation felt in your core, and despite being in such a hurry to get away from everyone you knew, it unsettled you that you weren’t as happy being alone right now as you thought you would. No one judging every choice you make, to be disappointed in you or show fake concern for your lack of a love life and friends.

But there was no one to laugh with like that, to smile genuinely with and create memories to love for years to come. Your family would say your younger years were behind you now that you were “past your prime”, wasted away chasing a career that gave so little back. Maybe they were right, watching the group of men at least five years younger than you, maybe middle twenties, clearly enjoying each other and their holiday.

With a heavy sigh you downed the rest of your drink, turning back to your book to distract yourself. Though it wasn’t much of a distraction, as seconds later you found yourself glancing back up at the bar, this time finding eyes on you.

You didn’t expect him to wave.

A moment later, you also didn’t expect him to be standing at your table, two shots in his hands as he smiled down at you. “If you’re here alone, would you like to share a shot with me?” He hummed out, presenting the pretty soju shot to you.

Accept a shot from a stranger, or continue your dinner alone with just your book? Another decision that, in hindsight, would change more than you bargained for. Returning his smile with a pleasant one of your own, you took the shot. “I wouldn’t say I’m alone now.”

His grin turned flirty, motioning to the seat across from you for permission before he sat down once it was given. He was nicely dressed, a dark sweater, dark jeans, much like a dress casual as you were wearing as well, and less gaudy than most of his other friends.

“Thank you for accepting, I’m Choi Jongho. Is this your first day here?” He immediately started with the questions, holding onto the shot as he leaned forward a bit.

It occurred to you he wanted something from you. Maybe he and his friends were making a joke about the old woman eating alone? Maybe he felt sorry for you? Or… You let your eyes dip down, taking in the sight of him once more, hoping that he was simply here because he thought you were attractive. Now that was an idea, a younger man approaching you just to flirt?

You gave him your name, smile turning a bit flirty just to see how he would react. “I arrived about midday so yeah, first day here. You’re with your friends over there right?” You jutted your chin at the group at the bar, several of them staring this way with varying expressions. Some in disbelief, some proud, some worried. “Mind filling me in why you decided to leave them to sit with little ol’ me?” Now you leaned forward, purposely pushing your breasts together for the bit of cleavage that was on display.

Only because you were expecting it did you notice the subtle glance and the darkening of his cheeks. “We sort of fought for who would come over here, and I won.” He grinned in triumph, holding up the shot glass. “My lucky day. So a shot to new friends?”

Laughing a bit at his admission, you lifted the shot glass to his. “That’s cute, to new friends.”

With a clink, you both downed the shot, but he didn’t move to get up, instead charging forward right into the next question. “So, pardon me for asking, but why are you here alone just before the holidays?”

Your smile faltered, glancing down at your book before pushing it aside. Of course others would find it odd, it’s definitely not the norm. “The simplest answer would be that it’s just a vacation to give myself some personal time, no holiday stress and I won the room and travel expenses so why not?”

“So no kids or partner you have waiting for you at home?” He inquired, leaning in a bit more.

Shaking your head, you bit down on your lip softly. “No, no one. I was content spending the holidays alone.”

“I hear a but there.”

“Well of course you do. That but would be that now that you’re here, being alone doesn’t seem like the best idea. Wanna keep me company for dinner?”

He was eager to do so, quickly falling into conversation. You ordered some food for him, and he ordered a drink, starting off with just getting to know each other but with some mild flirting in the mix.

You had been right about the age, mid twenties, he and his friends had come up to spend their holidays here, some of their families had also come along but not his. He didn’t judge you when you admitted you just didn’t want to deal with your family for the holidays either, the “joy” of it nonexistent for you. In fact, he seemed more offended that you didn’t like the snow or skiing.

Somehow, by the end of dinner, he had convinced you to go skiing with him just once during your stay, insisting you have to. When you mentioned you had no equipment or gear, he offered to pay to rent it all for you, giving you no excuses.

Instead, you made a deal with him. You’d go skiing, if he read one of the books you had brought with you, since you had talked about your love for reading as one of the topics. You had made sure to clarify it was a romance novel, but he agreed, even if he had a light blush paired with his determined grin.

Once dinner was paid for, and drinks, his friends pulled him away and you could hear them hounding him for questions. One of the taller ones, with a deep voice, not so quietly asked “So is she single? Down to fuck?” before he had gotten far.

“Single, yes.” You called out, answering for him as you stood, feeling the few drinks really taking effect and giving you courage to say things you normally wouldn’t. “Down to fuck? That remains to be seen.” You sent a wink over at Jongho specifically, pleased when he got shy at the attention.

You weren’t against it, but really you had enjoyed just talking to him more than anything.

It was enough of a distraction that you went to your room without much thought of how you were going to give him the book; instead you were more flabbergasted at the fact he and his friends shared a few rooms right across from yours.

Well it made sense, since he had said they were there to ski, but it was oddly ironic. He hadn’t said anything else to you, but currently, a different friend was stepping into the hotel room with him, and luck had it that you caught his eye. He still seemed a bit shy after his friend’s comment, just giving you a wave before stepping into the room. At least you both knew which room you were in, so he couldn’t hide from you but you also couldn’t hide from him.

With eager anticipation, you constantly glanced at the door to see if maybe he would make the move and come to you. Perhaps you could get out of the deal if he didn’t come grab the book? After all, you didn’t want to go out in the snow if you didn’t have to. However barely a half hour had passed before there was a knock on the door.

No surprise to find him there, the confident smile from before back on his face. “So, about that book?”

Sighing dramatically, as if in defeat, you held up a finger before stepping further into the hotel room and grabbing the book you had set aside. “Here you go handsome, one smutty romance novel for you to read.”

“Smutty?” Ah, there was the shy guy from earlier, nearly fumbling the book as you handed it over. “But-”

“I did say it was an adult romance book.” Now you had a wicked grin on your face, hands on your hips as you tilted your head in question. “Backing out of the bet?”

He went stiff, shaking his head with determination. “Not at all, but, I’m upping the deal.”

You actually pouted out. “No fair- all because you were too busy staring at my tits than listening?”

“Totally not the case.” He was quick to defend himself. “If I get like, halfway through, then I take you out to the slopes to teach you how to ski. Because otherwise it’s dangerous if you don’t have some knowledge.”

You told yourself it was only because he had a point that you didn’t argue- and not because that meant more time with him. “Fine. Halfway then. And I’ll be quizzing you.”

“Make the questions hard then at least.”

“The hardest.”

“Oh? Is that also how you like it?” The drop of his tone, and the fact he was much closer than you realized, made the question quite provocative for your mind.

Now you were the one shy and flustered, scoffing because what else could you do? “Maybe you’ll find out.” You motioned to the book, knowing that the couple was passionate about each other, but in a way that was sweet and romantic. It was one of the softer books you had, but there was a reason the binding was worn out from how many times you had read it and why you chose this one for him to read.

If skiing was a love of his, you were sharing a love of yours.

“I see. Then I should get to reading. Goodnight Darling.” He held up the book as he took a step back, reluctant to leave you, but soon enough you were watching him shut his hotel door. Cheeks still burning from the pet name, you headed to bed as well, feeling like a high school girl who just got asked to prom by her crush.

You didn’t see or hear from him the next day, opting to stay in your own room and attempt to read your current book while snuggled up against the fire. You had ordered room service for snacks and the like, not even leaving the room once since the only reason you would knew where to find you.

Unfortunately he was on your mind the whole time, interrupting your thoughts and making it hard to focus on the book. A bit sad to go to sleep without a peep, the next day was promising.

He knocked early, a wide grin on his features when he saw you wrapped up in the hotel robe clearly just out of bed. “I got halfway. Meet me downstairs for breakfast and then skiing?”

To say you were shocked was an understatement, having begun to doubt if he really would read the book, or if he would do so with time for you to fill your half of the bargain. The fact he was younger was somehow intimidating- or maybe it was the insecurities that usually surfaced around this time of year- that had you questioning constantly if he really enjoyed your company.

So you were touched that he did manage so quickly. Even more so when he answered every single of your questions over breakfast down at the restaurant, showing enthusiasm for the story.

Though he was much more talkative about the skiing equipment as he dragged you to the shop to rent your own equipment. Before you knew it, you were shaking out in the snow but looked like an overpacked marshmallow with rosey cheeks under the hefty goggles. The snow made it difficult, waddling through it like a penguin which had him laughing in his own puffer jacket.

“It’s cold~” You whined for the dozenth time in the last ten minutes, finally making it to the kiddy slopes. Regret was just around the corner, but every time he did laugh it seemed miles away.

There was also a spark in his eye when he looked at you, gummy smile like a mini sun that made the biting cold melt away from your chest; your fingertips weren’t that immune yet.

“You’ll get used to it. Now, almost there. We’ll practice how to stand up at the top of this one hill and then I’ll have you practice going down it until you get the hang of it.”

“I dislike those odds. We’re going to be here forever!”

“I beg to differ beautiful, I think you’ll get the hang of it.” He winked, holding his hand out to help you up the small slope that kids half your size and smaller were managing to go down with ease. If he hadn’t thrown out another pet name that left you cooking in the puffer jacket, you might feel jealous of the kids for doing it so well.

So what if it took all two weeks to get the hang of it if he was teaching you?

The first unfortunate face plant into the snow was a harsh reminder that yes, it did matter how long you were out here. He laughed, but helped you up and dusted snow off your jacket while you puffed out your cheeks like you were the younger one.

“I want a refund.”

“No can do.”

Your protests fell on deaf ears as the teaching continued. Once the skis were on, you fell sideways on your first step. Then awkwardly onto your ass. Being bundled like a fragile vase did not make moving easy, but you were trying.

An hour, maybe a bit more, and you made your first successful, if not clumsy, trip down the small slope on skis. He came sliding down, stopping next to you with ease to help you up as stopping was something you still needed to practice.

This time though, you got payback: you pulled him down ‘accidentally’.

He fell on top of you, laughing at the clumsy entanglement you both were. Despite the ice cold snow against your back, he radiated warmth above you, that gummy smile back on his face you associated with pure joy. The smile was gone when you shoved a handful of snow down the neck of his jacket, starting an unfortunate battle between you both that had you rolling around in the snow, laughing and squealing.

Until you weren’t anymore, skis entangled you were pressed together in a tantalizing way that had you heating from the inside out. Staring up at him, admiring the beauty he was with literal steam radiating off him, you thought the winter sky was a beautiful backdrop. He looked at you as if he was staring at priceless art, wet glove easily sliding into the snow under your head to hold you still as he was leaning in.

Your brain was short circuiting as your eyes fluttered close, accepting the kiss you expected to come, but it landed on your bright red nose. Which, you hadn’t noticed, was so damn cold and snotty until his warm breath fanned over it. “We should get you inside before you become Rudolph.”

His teasing comment snapped you out of your trance and you slapped his shoulder playfully. His laughter was back, your cheeks just as red as your nose as he leaned back to easily disentangle you both.

The almost kiss wasn’t brought up, not even as he helped you back inside and up to your room. Whatever he was going to say at the door was interrupted by one of his friends calling out to him: it seemed they had afternoon plans. But he left you with a promise to take you back on the hill tomorrow evening.

He kept it, this time you learned how to stop, still pretty clumsy, but the praise and pride on his features every time you did well was enough encouragement to continue with the lessons. That night he invited you to dinner with him and a few of his friends, those that didn’t have family there, and you met Mingi, San, and Yeosang. It seemed the others were spending their evening with their families.

Mingi had been the one to ask if you were down to fuck, a comment he apologized for profusely when you joined them at the table. San was a gentleman from the start, doting on the quiet pretty boy next to him the entire dinner. In fact, so did Jongho and Mingi, a fact you found interesting and even called Yeosang the “baby girl” of the group. That seemed to be the comment that won their approval, and while you didn’t do much talking, you saw Jongho as his age for once.

Being the youngest of his friends, he was playful like a little brother and teasing the others. Even you couldn’t help jumping in on the teasing, pinching his cheek and cooing at him like a baby. After dinner you joined them for a game of billiards which they were quite competitive for, but good. You found yourself a comrade with Mingi, both of you failing almost miserably while both Jongho and San were toe to toe, carrying you both since you had split into teams with Yeosang as the resident cheerleader.

The biggest moment, for you at least, was when Jongho secured the win, the two of you cheering loudly until he was silencing yours with a kiss. You melted almost instantly, a dreamy look in your eyes as he pulled away a second later, blissful grin on his lips.

“Rub it in our faces, why don’t you!” Mingi huffed out while San was grinning like a proud papa, Yeosang holding his hand over his mouth completely shocked. On the walk back to the rooms, Yeosang became a bit more vocal and nosy about you both while San consoled a sullen Mingi.

But really you wanted to know where you were now standing with the man. He had been a stranger days ago, each evening almost like a date, and now you met his friends and shared your first kiss with him in front of them. Like a couple. Yet he was ushered into the room he shared with another friend, and you had no time to question him about it.

Christmas Eve was the next day, and despite pulling yourself out of the room and reading down in the lobby with the big fireplace, you didn’t see him once. Some of his friends you recognized, once more with family, but not him.

You did a video call with some family that night, the few you could stand easily, and went to bed early. For you, Christmas was another normal day, but the anxiety was beginning to settle in.

Was this a real thing with Jongho? Or was it just a fling? Would it end with sex and then forgetting each other the moment you left the resort? Were you okay with that?

You could hear the hotel doors opening and closing often during Christmas morning, having ordered room service you could hear the cheers and joy coming from the nearby rooms and the loneliness hit hard.

Somehow, like a sturdy rock, Jongho appeared before the heavy thoughts buried you. He knocked on your door, wearing a white fluffy hoodie and a cream colored bearlike beanie and sweats. He had a bag in his hand, that gummy smile back on his face and a near dreamy look in his eyes as he looked over your own cozy outfit. “Merry Christmas?”

Guilt tugged at your heart, as well as some other emotions, but you gently took the bag from him and smiled softly. “I didn’t get you anything though…”

“Don’t have to. We can just enjoy the evening together? Can I come in?” He presented another gift, a bottle of alcohol and juice to mix it with, both items you were familiar with since they made up your drink the night you met.

“Jongho… I’m really touched but you didn’t have to.” You stepped back to let him in, finding him absolutely adorable in the fuzzy clothes, reminding you once more he was younger. It shouldn’t matter, really, but perhaps after so much of your family’s nagging it was just programmed into your mind to hear what they would say, even if they weren’t there.

He shrugged, setting the gift down on the desk provided in the room and then looking around as to where to sit; it didn’t elude you that he avoided looking at the bed. “I know, but I wanted to.” He turned to you once you shut the door and stepped further in, the tension between you palpable, probably from the unresolved kiss. “You don’t have to celebrate, but I just want to spend some time with you today. Is that alright?”

As an answer, you made your way over and grabbed his hand, pulling him over to sit on the chaise lounge by the ongoing fire. You had him sit before going to grab the gift, coming back and taking the spot next to him. “Can I open this now then?” Your words were thick with emotion, a large part of you moved beyond measure by this simple gesture.

It’s barely been a week, you shouldn’t feel this strongly about a stranger.

But he wasn’t a stranger, smiling at you as if he was the sun that you basked in daily; looking at you as if you were his favorite sight. He was a wonder, bringing you to life in ways you didn’t realize you had been dead.

“Open it.”

With apprehension you did, eyes widening as the first thing under the tissue paper was the book you had borrowed him. Your eyes flickered up to meet his gaze, finding him a bit bashful. “I finished it.”

He did?

“You can quiz me on it later but keep going, there’s more.”

Licking your lips you turned your attention back to the bag. There indeed was more, a trilogy of books at the bottom of the bag, a series you weren’t familiar with but could tell would be good. All by the same author as the book you had leant him.

He started to ramble. “So the shop owner said this is a more recent series by that author, similar genre, and I thought you might like it because of how well worn the book is and-” The books fell to the floor as you reached over and grabbed him, cupping his cheeks to hold him still as your lips collided with his.

Why even question that first kiss when it didn’t matter? You wanted him, desire him physically and emotionally. Even if you never saw him after this retreat, you weren’t going to let the what ifs and questions stop you from taking this chance.

He kissed back with equal passion, matching your lips as you held him still. His hands found your waist, guiding you onto his lap as you were already moving there. Kiss after kiss, heating up the room more than the fireplace could.

“Darling- wait.” Despite your eagerness, he pulled away, breathing a bit heavy from the onslaught of kisses. “We should-”

“Talk? Maybe. But to be frank, Jongho, it doesn’t matter to me if I don’t see you after this resort, or if I do.” You slipped your hand up into his hair, knocking the beanie off and onto the floor. “I want you. I don’t want to have any regrets and I will regret it if I don’t take this chance with you.” It was a bit of a lie, you had a feeling you wanted to see him even after the snow had melted into spring and for the next winter and so on.

But even just these few days up in the snow covered mountains would be enough.

It was a sentiment he seemed to share, picking you with such ease you were squealing and holding on tighter.

“I was going to say move to the bed.” He teased out, already carrying you, a sly grin on his features. “But good to know you want me so bad. Or need me so bad?” He set you down on the edge, placing a chaste kiss to your nose before his hands began to wander. “I don’t have a condom though so-”

“I have an IUD. Don’t care.” Your robe fell open, the cute fuzzy pajamas exposed underneath. “I do need you so bad.”

His lips were on yours again in the next moment, no more words needed to show how much he needed you too. His hands did plenty of talking. They slid the robe off completely and tossed it onto the floor, your shirt coming off next while his lips only gave you a small reprieve to breathe before they were back on yours.

He gently inched you up more and more, lips trailing soft but needy kisses along your jaw, to your neck, nipping at the skin there. “So beautiful…”

Your hand found its way into his hair, tilting your neck back to give him more access as his lips trailed lower; over your collarbone, the expanse of your chest, right to your exposed nipple. The second his lips latched on you were tightening your fingers in the fluffy strands, his own fingers pushing down your sleep shorts.

Every touch was soft, but you could feel the passion and need for you. In the way his teeth scraped against your hardened nipple, to the soft way his fingers trailed over your thighs as he pushed the fabric off, your underwear as well. Soon you were bare beneath him, but he wasn’t in a rush as his mouth moved to give equal attention to the neglected tit.

When was the last time you felt so cherished? The emotions swirling in your chest are as heavy as the lust pooling into your lower stomach and between your thighs. It just made your need for him that much more suffocating, impatience surging up that resulted in you pushing him off to the side and quickly climbing on top. “You really think I am?” You questioned, biting down on your lip as you moved down his thighs to grip his sweats.

His hands grabbed your wrists, expression once more bashful. It was cute, how he could be so confident and in control one moment, and then you do something that makes him so adorable and shy. “Y-yes, I think you are.” His eyes ran down your body, still holding you still by your wrists. You could visibly see the lust clouding his gaze more and more, a subtle gasp leaving his lips when his eyes locked onto your pussy, just inches from his clothed member.

You were pleased by the way his grip tightened and the soft, almost whine he let out when you rolled your hips to tease him. “And I think you are adorable like this. I told you I need you, so please, let me have you baby?”

Dropping your hands, he instead gripped your legs just above your knees, watching with bated breath as you pulled his sweats down finally and exposed him more. The wet spot through the grey boxers had you salivating, tempted just to lower your mouth and get a taste. How would he react?

The temptation was too much to pass up, already leaning forward before he knew what you were doing. With sweet satisfaction he bucked his hips up as you mouthed at the wet spot, feeling his thick tip twitching beneath the fabric. Ah his reaction was so cute, nails digging into your knees and soft pants leaving him while he forced himself to watch. Still in the big fuzzy sweater, you thought he should keep it on, he looked so adorable after all.

“Please, Darling I-”

“Yes?” You pulled your lips away, instead rubbing your cheek against the twitching bulge while your hands worked his pants off, using your feet to help kick them off him. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

He didn’t answer, instead sitting up to grab the back of your thighs and pull you up until you were chest to chest. He manhandled you with ease, but with no aggression behind his movements, just desire. Desire he conveyed even more through the desperate clash of lips and teeth and mixed breaths of you both.

Desire you could feel once his underwear was off and he was pressing your wet lips down on his shaft, both of you letting out a sweet sound of pleasure at the touch. Oh he was thick and it had your inner walls throbbing to feel them around it.

But there was no way you could just take it without some pain, which he seemed to be just as aware of. Pushing himself up on one elbow while he tapped your thigh gently. “Lift, or lay down.”

“But I-”

“You’ll have my cock soon enough, beautiful, but I don’t want to hurt you.” He kissed your cheek to soothe your protest, gently guiding you onto your back. Your legs fell open, making more than enough room for him which he took advantage of, his thick thighs spreading yours even further apart, eyes and hand running down the length of your body in admiration. “Are you sure about this?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, fingers threading through his soft hair once more. “DO you want me to beg? Because I will? Please please Jongho, I really want you. Want your cock inside me, want to be as close to you as I can, want- ah~” Your head fell back as his fingers rubbed between your slit before giving your clit the lightest pinch to shut you up.

He was smiling down at you with triumph, taking in the expressions you made as he used your slick to cover two of his fingers. “I get it, so needy it’s cute.”

With a pout you tugged on his hair, though it was instantly washed away when he pushed both fingers in with very little resistance. It had been so long, both fingers already feeling like a stretch inside, making you thankful he had insisted on prep. “N-not cute.”

“No?” He kissed the tip of your nose, pushing his fingers deep and curling them, chuckling at your reaction. “That’s definitely cute.”

“Says the one in a fluffy sweater.” You countered back like a brat despite your hips rocking up to meet his hand, practically putty as the two fingers explored your inner walls, finding the sweet spots that had your breath hitching or body twitching in response.

His smile turned gummy, now tugging at your heartstrings as you had grown to adore that smile. “Do you think I’m cute doing this to you?” To accentuate his words, his thumb started rubbing your clit in circles, humming at how pliant you became, only nodding to answer his question. “Should I take it off?”

Shaking your head, you gripped at his biceps, enjoying the fluffy material under your palms. “Wouldn't be able to think if you were bare.”

“I don’t think you’re doing a good job of thinking right now, Darling.” Slowly he spread you out, thumb increasing its pace just to have you soaking his hand even more. “I think you want to cum, don’t you?”

“A-are you going to let me?”

He chuckled, running his nose along your cheek before placing a kiss. “Of course. I can’t be mean to you.” He was already moving faster, fingers rubbing against your sweet spots he had found earlier in sync with his thumb. Both added more pressure, his thighs keeping yours apart as you started to writhe just a bit beneath him.

Tugging at the sweater on his arms, your eyes rolled shut to just enjoy the pleasure, head falling back into the pillows and shy moans leaving your lips as you realized just how much power he had over you. Yet he was treating you so gently, humming out soft praises about how good you were being.

There was a knowing smirk on his lips before you even started babbling out that you were going to cum, whining and tugging at his sweater as he kept up his pace. “Please, can I come? Can I please please Jongho- baby please.” You panted around the drool, forcing yourself to look up at him and pout between whines.

His grin just widened, glancing down between you both to see the ministrations of his fingers working you up and “then come Darling” to watch you soak his hand with your release, giving him such a sweet moan his impatience roared its head.

You were still twitching and panting as he pulled his fingers out, bringing them to his mouth as he leaned back, guiding his thick member to your cunt while he licked his fingers clean. The contradiction of his actions paired with the fluffy mess of his hair and fluffy sweater was actually endearing.

Though that endearment was pushed to the side as he pushed in, the stretch made your eyes go wide and grab onto him once more. It wasn’t painful, but there was a tight pressure he clearly felt as well. “Fuck- still so tight.”

A whine was your only answer, huffing as you tugged on the fabric to ask for more. You wanted to feel more of him, be as close as possible.

Feel loved.

Because even in just these few days, you had felt seen and cherished and in this moment that was felt tenfold. The way his eyes flickered between your face and where you were joined, eyes soft and looking for any sign of pain.

He was so gentle as he pushed in bit by bit, pausing once he bottomed out and you couldn’t suppress the whimpers that left you even if you tried. The two of you locked eyes, silently checking in on each other before he leaned over and kissed you, stealing what little breath you had left away.

Arms wrapping around his shoulders, you wrapped your legs around his waist as well, pushing the sweater up. The soft fabric grazing your tits with every slow roll of his hips made the entire act softer. As your walls adjusted to his thickness, he picked up pace, panting against your lips before he picked you up.

Now in the air wrapped around him like a koala, he made a show of strength as he gripped just under your ass and moved you in sync with his thrusts. He felt so deep you were already shaking, burying your face into his shoulder and holding on tightly. “Jongho- Jongho please-”

“Please what?” He was breathless but was still thrusting up into you with ease. “Do you need more?”

Bashfully you nodded, gasping out in shock when he obliged. Now you were bouncing on his cock with such fervor your mind was filled with so much cotton you couldn’t think. The soft grunts and pants by your ear were a good indication he was enjoying this as much as you were, but you loved the whine he let out when you purposely clenched down around him.

“Fuck- you’re going to milk me at this rate Darling.”

“Want to. Want to be nice and full. Don’t want you to leave.” You panted out, head lifting to press your forehead against his cheek. “Want you to feel good too.”

“I feel amazing. It’s an effort not to cum in your pretty cunt right now.” He gently kissed your forehead, the softness making your heart lurch with affection.

You were down bad, and with the way he was fucking you, it was for more than just his heart. “Then don’t hold back. We can go again and again.”

He chuckled breathlessly, fingers gripping your soft flesh tighter. “Alright, remember you asked for it.” He went silent then, focusing entirely on chasing his release by fucking into you a bit harder.

Loving every thrust your head fell back, only your grip on him keeping you from falling back. Though with the grip he had on your ass you weren’t coming off his dick anytime soon- just coming on it.

Crying out as the pleasure hit you like a ton of bricks, you nearly did fall back but Jongho fell with you. Burying you into the bed like you had been buried in the snow beneath him as he gave a few erratic final thrusts before releasing himself deep inside. The groan he made tingled your spine and brain, unlocking chemistry that made you feel like you were in love at that moment.

Moments passed as he stilled and both of you struggled to catch your breath, but he didn’t pull out. Not even when he placed a kiss on your cheek and rolled over so you were on top of him, you were still seated on his softening cock.

His hands ran up and down your back and then down your thighs, tucking your head under his chin as his breathing regulated. “I don’t want this to be just a vacation fling.”

Smiling at his words, you hugged him as best you could, but were too worn out in the moment to even lift your head. “Doesn’t have to be. We live in the same city right?” It had been briefly mentioned before.

“Yeah… Will you see me there?” He sounded a little insecure over the question, which you were a bit surprised by.

“I’d love to, Jongho. Besides, there are more fun things to do when you aren’t surrounded by snow.”

He huffed at your comment. “Skiing is plenty fun and you still have to try the novice slope with me.”

Laughing softly, you took notice you could see it snowing on your balcony, knowing just how cold the pretty flakes were. But it was plenty warm in this hotel room, with the fireplace and Jongho under you with his fluffy sweater and warm embrace. “I did promise, and you did read my book.”

“It was a bit hard to, since I couldn’t stop imagining that spicy scene as you and I.”

At the admission you did lift your head, laughing at the blush warming his golden cheeks. “Really? You are so cute Choi Jongho, getting flustered over that after you just fucked my brains out.”

He couldn’t meet your eyes. “Well… I wanted to make sure I could compare…”

“Compared to what? What I read?” He shook his head, leaving you frowning. “Do you think I had a lot of lovers just because I’m older?”

Ah, Bingo. “Mingi made a comment that the older woman he had been with had shown him a lot of new things… I’m less experienced than him so I thought…”

You cut him off with a kiss. “Remind me to kick him in the balls when I see him next. I’m not that experienced, and even if I was you were more than perfect.”

There it was, that smile you adored so much lighting up his features. “Really?”

“Yes really. But-” Resting your head again you glanced back out at the balcony. “Now I think I need to quiz you on that book, see if I really should go skiing with you.”

His hold tightened with a whine. “Why do you want to get out of it?”

“Because the snow is too cold, and I like doing this more.” You huffed out in return, hands playing with the soft sweater.

“Then how about I warm you up just like this after every time we go outside and you get cold?” He prompted, laughing when you jolted up into a sitting position. “I take it you like that?”

With a nod, your grin widened. “I can certainly deal with some snow… especially since it’s not so bad with you.” No, the sight of him in all his ski gear was just as charming as he looked right now, all tousled from sex and blushing.

Snow definitely wasn’t so bad when he was there, so maybe the holidays weren’t that bad after all.

He took your hands in his, meeting your gaze and practically melting at his own. “So you like me, not the snow?” At your nod, he pulled you back down and kissed you softly. “Then I suppose I wouldn’t be against some summer vacation despite not liking the heat… you know, as long as you’re there.”

Oh he really did make everything more wonderful.

#pirateeznet #lapydiariesnet #mirohsaurorasociety #secret santa event #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez fanfiction #jongho smut #jongho x reader #jongho fluff #jongho x y/n #jongho x you #holiday fanfic

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mickyschumacher · 1 year ago

Text

[ICE CREAM CAKE!]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you and lando have a pretty healthy relationship; communication is a breeze between the two of you. and while that seems good, it doesn't help lando is horny 24/7. even the beach isn't safe from him.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minors dni), established relationship, some fluff, blowjob, slight handjob, breastplay, poor humour LMAO aka old creepy mens' dicks, no time concept lol, basically lando time!

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: bf!lando norris x fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 3k+

𝐀/𝐍: now playing: ice cream cake – red velvet! OKAY YES IK I HAVE REQUESTS BUT I HAD WRITER'S BLOCK TILL THIS OKAY? is it not obvious by the word count? 😭 alexa, play 'easy on me' by adele :( also new banners after i messed around one day! ♡︎ // proof-read-ish!

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

You had met Lando two years ago purely on accident. You were at a coffee shop in Brighton, he was visiting a friend there. You ordered a hot chocolate and he had ordered a long black. Somehow the both of you had swapped cups and were wincing at how sweet or bitter the drink was.

Lando had turned his cup around to see who the cup belonged to. Upon seeing your name, unlike a normal person who would ask the barista for another cup or a refund, he had shouted your name across the room.

Lucky for you, you were the only other customer there since it was a slow day. Nevertheless, you looked up in shock. Who yelled out your name? Why? How did they know your name?

You actually purposely avoided eye-contact with his table just in case he was some weird guy. But Lando got your attention after telling you from across that room that you had some sweet taste in drinks.

You raised a brow. Was this some sort of new catcall you didn't know about? But then you had caught the barista's handwriting on 'your' cup. Lando, Long Black.

You scrunched your nose at the cup and looked at him. "You're quite bitter."

It was at that point when Lando had got a clear shot of your face and found his heart racing faster than normal. You were pretty, no gorgeous, no beautiful, no... surreal. Your face was contorted into a grimaced expression at his order which he found amusing. You looked like, what he still claims to this day, part of the shop's couch. The couch was brown and you were wearing a brown sweater.

Honestly, Lando couldn't find the whole situation anymore endearing. So with whatever confidence he had leftover, he walked up to your table and smoothly asked, "Can I get you a sweeter one with my number?"

Now this was when you first had probably got a look of Lando. He had a certain... boyish charm, if you will. The wide grin, sparkling blue eyes, face dotted with the odd freckle or beauty mark. To say he was attractive was an understatement. He looked like one of the main characters in the rom-coms you would binge when you needed a pick me-up.

You said yes. Obviously.

And here you were, two years later. At the beach with Lando, Charles, Carlos, Daniel, and their partners. You were all caught up with F1, always available for Lando. Your perspective of him had changed quite a lot since you had met him. In a good way, of course.

You initially saw him how a lot most of his fans and the media see him. A comedian by day and a moodmaker by night. Always smiling and cheery. Positive and optimistic. But the reality was that Lando struggled with the mental and physical aspects of F1. He didn't always have the confidence and he was stressed and depressed.

But as Lando always said in his interviews, he had found you.

'The best thing that had ever happened to him,' according to Lando himself.

Anyone could see that the two of you loved each other with your entire beings. Neither of you left any stone unturned in your relationship. Most people were jealous of your relationship. The drivers, the media, and especially the fans.

And you wouldn't have it any other way.

━━━━━━━━━━━

One thing about Lando that you had learned quite soon after your first time together was that Lando was insatiable. He was sex-driven, horny, full of lust, aroused... all the words in the dictionary for a man like this... 24/7.

One day, you asked him why. Lando only responded with pulling you closer to him, leaving a trail of kisses from your jaw and down to your neck, and saying "You."

You wouldn't say anything did it for him. No in fact, it was specific things that he couldn't take his mind off once he thought about it.

Take right now for example.

Carlos had decided to treat everyone to ice creams, ice lollies, and juice on your trip to the beach in Playa de Bolonia. Innocently and naively, you had chosen the pink ice lolly out the chilly bin. Lando had also not thought anything of it.

Rather Lando had being eyeing you with every spare glance as you were wearing his favourite bikini, the one he had bought you for Christmas as a prank gift in the nice British winter thinking it had been the funniest thing ever. Obviously, he thought you were going to were it but another thing you had learned was that Lando's humour quite often was unmatched and spontaneous.

The bikini itself was simple. An orange, of course, two-piece. The top was held up by two moderately thin straps and hugged your breasts quite nicely. The bikini bottom was as normal as it could get, clinging to your hips. On top of it, you wore a white thin-laced cotton coverup, loosely tied together.

You would say it was an average beach look. Lando would disagree. It was as if God himself had carved you and decided to put you on Earth as reparations for the bad in the world.

But back to the point.

As mentioned, Lando hadn't really thought of the ice lolly. He was too busy trying to get Daniel back with a water gun. Like you said, boyish. It wasn't until he had finally got him back and decided to go sit down with you and grab himself some ice cream.

But when Lando sat down and looked at you, his mind had suddenly turned into shambles. There you were. Under the shade, peaks of sun shining on your skin, holding that pink ice lolly to your mouth.

Lando wasn't quite sure what was worse. The faint pink colour similar to his cock or the way your tongue travelled down the length of it to collect the melting sugary liquid. Or how your lips pressed up on the tip of the ice and pressed down to take an inch more of it into your mouth as if it was his own cock.

To make matters even worse for him, you had failed to capture some of the melting droplets. Lando keenly watched as they fell to your bare part of your chest and even had landed right where he knew your nipple was. His eyes widened ever so slightly and his breath paced when you frowned at the event and used your finger to wipe the sweet liquid off your skin and into your mouth. Some of it had gone too far down, probably pooling near your breasts like he imagined.

What sent him overboard? When you had spotted the stain on your bikini top over your nipple and attempted to rub it away, only making the stain worse and a small bump for your pebbled nipple.

Lando gulped nervously, pants incredibly tight. He closed his eyes and held his hands over his newly-formed hard on, wishing that his mind wasn't full of everything he had just seen. Your lips... your breasts... the way your eyes looked down at the popsicle... if only that was his cock....

"Lando? Dude, do you need to go to the bathroom?" Pierre's voice cut through the air.

Lando snapped his eyes opened and your eyes looked over to your boyfriend.

"W-What?" The British male queried with slight panic. He was not getting caught with a hard-on in front of his friends... there was no way in Earth...

Pierre raised a brow, gesturing to his pants. "You're ice cream is all melted. You need to take your eyes off Y/N at least sometimes, Lando, otherwise you'll never finish... your ice cream, that is," He teased.

You looked down at Lando's pants where his hands laid, covered in the white vanilla ice cream-turned liquid. You and everyone let out an amused laugh at Pierre's joke, shaking your head.

You stood up from the sandy grass you were sat on, dusting yourself off. You extended your hand to Lando, "Come on. I bought extra stuff in the car. Honestly, I thought you were going to lose your trunks by Daniel pantsing you in the water but I guess not."

A howl of laughter came from Charles and Carlos while Daniel cursed himself for not doing it.

Lando blinked, pulling the finger at his fellow drivers. He sighed, grabbing your hand and awkwardly standing up from the area, managing to cover up his bulge swiftly.

The two of you headed to the car as Lando briefly threw out the sticky wrapper and stick into a bin nearby. You opened the boot of the car, grabbing his trunks. "Jesus, could it get any hotter today?" You asked, closing the back door.

"It really couldn't," Lando mused, walking hand-in-hand with you, making you release a groan.

"Lando... now my hand's all sticky, you idiot," You complained, trying to pull apart from his hand.

Lando rolled his eyes, arriving to the empty males changing room. He was about to enter when he saw you stand outside and not follow him. "What are you doing? Come in."

You narrowed your eyes. "It's a male changing room. I'm not going in. What if there's some old man trying to change? I do not need to be scarred for life. My DMs is enough, thanks."

"First of all, there's no one here," Lando stated before shouting a loud 'Hello' into the room, making you redden with embarassment. "See? Secondly, I'm sorry, let me get this straight, your DMs are full of old men's dicks?" Lando looked at you incredulously.

You grinned, shrugging. "It's called being a woman, Lando. You wouldn't get it."

Lando rolled his eyes once again, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you into the changing room.

The room was the opposite of most changing rooms. It was tiled well, clean and fresh as opposed to musty, damp and with paint-chipped walls. There were also no leaky taps or showers or even any graffiti. It was slightly comforting to know that at least people respected some of their public rooms, even in Madrid.

"Wait, also, what if I get old? You don't want to see my shrivelled dick? It should turn you on!" Lando asked with a dramatic gasp.

You looked at your boyfriend through the mirror with a dumfounded expression. Turning, you threw his trunks at his face. "Go change," You laughed, shaking your head.

Lando grinned underneath the trunks as you turned the tap on to wash your sugar-coated hands.

Lando had removed his trunks, left naked with his hard, reddened cock slapping against his stomach, and was about to put on the new ones when a thought passed his mind.

You paused your hand-washing and froze when you felt Lando's arms wrap around your stomach, pulling you close to his bare body. "Lando," You yelped, feeling a shiver cross your body, "What are you doing?"

Lando peered down at you through his thick eyelashes. He tucked his chin into your shoulder, placing a brief kiss. "What?" He asked innocently, "I'm just washing my hands. I can't get the new ones dirty either."

You watched through the mirror as he pressed his body into you, washing his hands under the tap, ridding the tackiness on his hands.

You sucked in a sharp breath, feeling his cock push into your backside. It was bare, you realised, as the heat spread into you. Your eyes flickered to Lando through the mirror, squinting at him. He wasn't...

Lando caught your eyes staring hard at him. "Don't look at me like that," He whispered into your ear, a loose grin hanging on his face. His wet fingers travelled to the poorly tied lace coverup you wore, undoing the knot with ease. The coverup fell against your shoulders, revealing your bikini and body in all it's glory.

"You have to clean up as well," Lando shrugged, eyes fixated on you through the mirror. "You made a mess," He murmured, wetting his fingers with the water once more before placing it against your chest.

You pressed your lips tightly, feeling his fingers drive down your skin and underneath your bikini top. Lando's fingers brushed your hardened nipples, making you shudder under his touch. His fingers trailed across your breasts, wiping away any of that sticky residue that you had missed. Bringing his fingers to his mouth and taking a wide lick of them, Lando grinned at you. "You know... I can't stop picturing you sucking my dick like that ice lolly. Never thought I would be jealous of an ice lolly."

You couldn't help but smile in amusement. You pulled away from his hold and turned to face your boyfriend. "Yeah?" You hummed, hands trailing down his chest. Lando had been working out a lot more these days for F1; compared to before his abs had become more prominent and toned. You loved Lando no matter what he looked like, but there was something about the way his skin flushed when you touched his torso.

Lando's breath hitched as your hand had ever so naturally found it's way to his cock. His cock, if you could say it, was pretty. It was average in length and with a nice, filling girth, stretching all of your holes wide.

Your fingers brushed across the tip of his head, just grazing his slit. You could feel Lando jolt in your hands as he muttered, “Fuck.”

You opened your mouth, letting a drop of saliva full into his cock. Hand wrapped around it, you gently rubbed natural lube up and down his shaft. Lando’s jaw clenched at the warm liquid nestling around his cock, letting a sharp exhale through gritted teeth.

Slowly you sunk down to your knees. The tiled floor was cold against your burning skin but it didn’t matter: you were too focused on what was right in front of you; cockdrunk. Your tongue darted out to swipe your lips before pressing a light kiss to his cock. Lando could feel himself twitch, aching to be in your mouth.

He watched as your lips opened like they did on that ice lolly. Going down in his cock, your lips stretched and your mouth hollowed.

Lando groaned at the warmth surrounding his cock. He bit down on his lip, watching his cock disappear into your mouth. Your eyes were on him as you sucked him, teeth barely grazing his skin.

"Fuck, you look so pretty like this, Y/N," Lando sighed out, "On your knees for me. I can't imagine the mess you made between those legs of yours, hmm?"

You moaned in response, sending a vibration around his cock. You briefly pulled away from him, making Lando grunt in slight annoyance at the loss. "These lips, my pussy.... all yours," You winked at him before returning to his cock.

Lando tensed at your words, letting a grin overtake him. "Yeah? Let's see about that throat, baby?" His hands reached your half dry and half damp, salty hair. Wrapping those long tresses around his hand and wrist, he tightened his grip. He could feel you open up your throat as he guided his cock down the tighter tunnel.

Lando's rasping groan made you clench your thighs, holding a barrier to the wetness leaking at of you. You could feel him begin to move his hips, beginning to push his cock into your throat.

Fighting the urge to gag around his cock, you tried hard to relax your cheeks and mouth, allowing every inch of him to be seated in your throat.

He flickered his eyes to you. Watching you take him in his mouth was a pleasure of its own. Your big eyes were glassy with tears of arousal and a haze of lust, sweat and saliva lingered at every edge of your skin, and your lips were puffy and red. Trailing his eyes further down, he spotted your bare neck in dire need of kisses, but that wasn't the most striking thing about it. It was the slight bulge of his cock in your throat making it's presence known.

Jesus...

Lando instinctively closed his eyes upon feeling your hands touch his balls. You rubbed them gently, feeling your head bob at an increased rate to match the sudden pace of Lando's cock in your throat.

"Fuck, fuck... I..." Lando moaned. "I'm gonna cum!" Lando hissed out, feeling a familiar bubbling feeling overcome. His thrusts become harder and faster, your nose flushed with his skin.

His moans became irregular and higher, chasing his release. "Fuck...." A guttural groan fell from his lips. Hot, salty white strips of his cum coated the inside of your mouth, swirling around after each drop was sucked from your lips. Almost painfully, Lando removed himself from your mouth. His chest rose up and down as he breathed out heavily.

An admiring smile came from Lando while he pulled you up to meet his face. He pushed your sweaty hair back. "That mouth of yours is evil," He narrowed his eyes playfully.

"You should shut me up then," You quipped back, sticking out your tongue that still had his cum on it.

Lando's eyes sparkled with amusement before he brought his lips to yours, darting his tongue into your mouth. The urgency in the action was understated. God, he could taste himself in you. His hands encapsulated your waist, flushing your barely clothed body to close his naked one. Your own hands travelled everywhere across his chest as the two of you kissed each other.

The muffled moans from you made Lando want to hear them out loud. Slowly he moved from your lips to your jaw. "Let me hear you, baby," He breathed out, placing smaller kisses as he reached your neck.

You let out a small whimper, neck tilting so Lando could get more access. Lando grinned at the sight of your bare neck, leaving small little nibbles across your skin. His lips eventually became settled in an area between your ear and collarbone, beginning to suck at your warmth.

"Lando," You moaned, "No, the others will realise."

Your refutes were ill-attempted even for yourself. You were dazed at the suction of his lips. His nose buried into your neck while he created a fresh layer of purple against your sun-kissed skin.

Lando released himself from your neck, eyeing down his creation with a smirk. "There. If they couldn't tell from your hair, they'll definitely know now."

You narrowed your eyes, turning to the mirror only for your eyes to widen in shock. "Jesus fucking Christ, Lando," You peered at the big purple brown splotch on your skin. "As if the 20 minutes we've spent here wasn't enough," You whined.

Lando laughed softly, standing behind you with his arms around your waist and chin resting on your head. "Well... if you make it through the shame, I can't wait to properly fuck you when we get home. You must know how much I love the way you look when I’m inside you."

Your head fell against his chest with a pout. "Why not now?"

Lando grinned before pressing a kiss to your head "Like you said... it's been 20 minutes."

#mickyschumacher #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x you #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 smut #lando norris fanfic #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader #lando norris

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lilidawnonthemoon · 2 months ago

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#the perfect velvet #7 years ago #peek a boo #iconic #one of the best concepts/ album designs/ covers of all time #kpop hall of fame #one of the history books #RV you will always be famous #♥️#red velvet #2017 #7th anniversary #kpop #ggs #girl groups #photoshoot #concept

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 2 months ago

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In The Gloomy Depths [Chapter 7: Sapphire] [Series Finale]

Series summary: Five years ago, jewel mining tycoon Daemon Targaryen made a promise in order to win your hand in marriage. Now he has broken it and forced you into a voyage across the Atlantic, betraying you in increasingly horrifying ways and using your son as leverage to ensure your cooperation. You have no friends and no allies, except a destitute viola player you can’t seem to get away from…

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), parenthood, dolphins, death and peril, violence (including domestic violence), drinking, smoking, freezing temperatures, murder, if you don’t like Titanic you won’t like this fic!!! 😉

Word count: 5.2k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Tagging: @nightvyre @mrs-starkgaryen @gemini-mama @ecstaticactus @chattylurker, more in comments 🥰

💎 Thank you for reading (and tolerating all my nautical puns)! 💎

How can love be a curse? How can it be something to fear, to condemn, to break?

She has dreamed of him all her life. First he was a protector, almost fatherlike, and then a remote, bewitching phantom as she crept into adolescence, and then when Harwin Strong died Daemon sailed over Saint George’s Channel to offer her solace in England, and at last the fantasies she never would have confessed to anyone were fulfilled, two marriages and four children later. Rhaenyra remembers what he told her in the mist-draped lakeside cottage where they met in secret, crossing paths like an asteroid striking a planet: My wife means nothing to me. She’s not like us. She is young, and weak, and afraid, and I could never respect that kind of person. Her father owns the last Connemara marble quarry in the world, and I needed a son. But the only woman I want is you.

Aegon fires the pistol as he chases her through the corridors of A-Deck, and when she shrieks nobody hears, or if they do they don’t appear to rescue her; the ship is full of people screaming, sobbing, clawing for their lives against wet walls and locked doors. He shoots and misses again. There’s something wrong with his hands. He keeps fumbling with the gun and almost dropping it, hissing in pain as he squeezes the trigger, and there’s blood staining his fingers.

Good, Rhaenyra thinks. I’m glad he’s hurt. I hope he’s dying.

She sees an open room and ducks inside, slamming the door behind her and barring it with the weight of her body as Aegon rams it with his shoulder. Rhaenyra is surrounded by the trappings of another family who purchased first-class tickets: chairs with velvet upholstery, a faux fireplace, paintings by Rousseau and Boccioni and Homer. The lights flicker and the steel beams of Titanic groan, low and disastrous. There isn’t much time left.

“Daemon!” she yells as loudly as she can. If he hears her, he’ll come running. I have to get to a lifeboat. I have to live for my father, for Jace and Luke and Joffrey, for the children I will one day give Daemon.

Rhaenyra struggles with the lock as Aegon batters the door and it quakes on its hinges. Just as she latches it, he fires the pistol through the door. Wood cracks and splinters; a bullet pierces Rhaenyra’s ribcage like a blade. There is unbearable pressure, and then a sharpness, a pain she believes she cannot stand until it keeps getting bigger, deeper, ripping her open and filling her with dark wet weight like the ocean surging into Titanic. She crumples to the floor. When she coughs, blood spurts out onto her lips. Rhaenyra wipes it away and then stares at the red on her palm.

I can’t die now. My life just became what it was supposed to be.

Aegon punches a hole through the mangled door large enough for him to reach in and unlock it. Then he stands in the threshold looking down at her, his hands shaking but his eyes hard, fierce, unflinching. Rhaenyra has never seen him like this before. She didn’t know he could be good at anything.

“How the fuck did you get on the ship?” Rhaenyra snarls as she scrambles away, hacking up more blood. The black opal ring Daemon gave her gleams like onyx or obsidian, something born of heat and earth and insurmountable, ancient gravity.

Daemon and I were made for each other. The same blood, the same bones, the same will to carve treasures from the bleakest places.

Aegon follows her across the floor, slow stalking steps. He doesn’t answer; instead, he shakes his right hand a few times—steadying himself, casting out tremors like demons—and then grips the pistol with it. He raises the gun, the barrel aimed at Rhaenyra’s face.

“Daemon?!” she screams, but he isn’t here. Then she asks, sudden desperate confusion, her blue eyes wide: “Why are you doing this?”

Aegon’s voice is calm. “Because she can’t be free unless you and Daemon are gone.”

That girl? Daemon’s sad, stupid wife? I’m dying because of HER?

“Father never loved you,” Rhaenyra seethes, red on her teeth, blooddrops spilling from her lips like rubies. Her eyes are cold, glinting sapphires, pools of freezing water that only needs minutes to stop the heart. “Just like Daemon never loved her.”

“I know. And I used to care. It almost killed me, it almost ate me alive. But now I’m better. And I finally know exactly who I’m supposed to be.”

Aegon pulls the trigger.

~~~~~~~~~~

As Daemon descends the Grand Staircase, you crawl down towards the next landing, your head spinning, your hands empty, writhing on your belly like a snake.

The dagger???

But you can’t find it, and you don’t have time to stop and search. Daemon is only a few steps behind you. When your palms hit B-Deck, you try to drag yourself upright, grappling for the banister; but before you can get your feet under you, Daemon kicks you and sends you hurtling down the next flight of stairs. You tumble towards C-Deck, clawing in vain for something to break your fall. Your head strikes the English oak wood and you hear your father’s bewildered voice as he sat at the dining room table in Lough Cutra Castle: Where are you going? When will you be back?

Never, never, never; and now from somewhere below you recognize the roar of rushing water.

“You were going to kill me?!” Daemon taunts as he bears down on you like a storm. Blood soaks his throat and the white shirt beneath his black suit jacket. His eyes are bright, feral, monstrous. “After all those times I spared you when I could have drowned you in a river or a hot bath or the sea? You’re so fucking useless. You really can’t do anything right. All you had to do was shut up and endure, and you could have lived to be an old, old woman with all the comforts my empire afforded you. Now, my dear, you will never see another sunrise. And when Titanic sinks, you’ll be buried with her.”

Down, down, always down towards the ocean floor, you crawl faster away from him as his footsteps grow louder.

“Help,” you moan weakly. Aegon? Anyone? But the only reply is the echoing of your own voice and the sounds of the dying ship: breaking metal, distant screams, gushing torrents of seawater.

You crash into C-Deck and again try to stagger to your feet, but Daemon is here, shoving you as if from a cliffside or off a balcony. And as you plummet down the Grand Staircase towards D-Deck—where the First-Class Dining Saloon is, where Thomas Andrews once assured you that Titanic was unsinkable—it is not hard wooden steps you collide with but swirling ice-cold seawater. You plunge beneath the currents and then come sputtering up to the surface, your white wool coat drenched and threatening to pull you below again like an anchor. You struggle to shed it with arms that are rapidly going numb.

I’m so cold, I’m so cold, if I don’t get out of the water I’ll be dead in minutes—

Daemon’s fingers close around your throat and he forces you under the waist-deep water. You thrash and try to push him away, to pry him off of you, but your muscles seem to have disappeared, they have been scraped off your bones and now you can only wait to die, your breathless lungs burning as your body freezes. You have a sudden vision of Daemon in his firelit study at Lough Cutra Castle, marveling at a shard of Larimar dredged up from the Caribbean Sea and quoting the first known treatise on gemstones, written by Theophrastus in the time of Alexander the Great: Of things formed in the earth, some have their origin from water.

“No!” you scream through the depths, bubbles rising up to air you cannot taste. You claw at Daemon’s hands, but you cannot wound him, cannot get a grip on him, and hasn’t that been true since you married him five years ago?

The dark, freezing water makes you want to give up. It makes death feel easy, painless, inevitable. You imagine faces you’ll never see again: Draco, Aegon, your parents, Fern. You hope Carpathia will be here soon to rescue the survivors. You wonder what will happen to Aegon’s paintings.

Through the water come the muffled booms of explosions, four of them, surely something catastrophic, the ship splitting in half or a distress flare misfired or boilers bursting and shearing through what’s left of the hull. Then Daemon’s hands vanish from your throat and someone is hauling you up out of the icy currents, they are freeing you, they are disinterring you from an oceanic grave.

“I’m here!” Aegon is shouting as you burst into open air, gasping and flailing. He drags you towards the Grand Staircase where you can climb out of the flood, but you’re looking for Daemon. He is a few yards away and floating face-up, one hand clasping his chest and a gurgling sound leaking from his throat. The water around him is turning red. He’s fading, but he’s not dead yet.

“Aegon, he’s still—”

“I know. I’ll take care of him once you’re out of the water. I don’t have any more bullets left.”

“I want to do it.”

“We need to get you dry and warmed up—”

“I want to do it,” you say again, and Aegon lets you go.

You twist off your black opal engagement ring and throw it into the water beside Daemon. Then you place both of you hands on his chest and push him beneath the surface, Aegon standing just behind you with the barrel of the pistol in his grasp in case he has to use it as a club. The glacial seawater froths and whirls as it rises over Daemon’s hemorrhaging chest. He startles—a death rattle, a late rite—and resists feebly, gazing up at you with glassy, disbelieving eyes. They ask: How did this happen? I was supposed to kill you, remember? I own you. I own jewels trapped in subterranean darkness all over the world, and you are the very least of them.

“Draco isn’t yours,” you tell Daemon as you force him under. “Rhaenyra isn’t yours. And I’m not yours either. Now sink and die and make me free.”

He twitches, he bares his crimson teeth at you, but after all this time finally Daemon is the weak one. The rising water flushes maroon around him, his skin goes a frail and translucent bluish-white, his heart is drained until the chambers are cold and grey and empty. You hold him beneath the water until the bubbles roiling up from his nose and mouth disappear. He will never touch you again, he will never hurt anyone, he will never bruise or break or ensnare or captivate. And who will inherit his mines scattered across the planet?

Draco. His only son. And my family and I will act as trustees until he’s eighteen.

“We have to go,” Aegon is saying. He must have taken off his coat before he went into the water after you. He stands shivering in only his white shirt and green corduroy pants, the ocean now lapping at his chest.

“Rhaenyra?” you ask.

“She’s gone. I’m sure.”

“It’s over,” you say softly, feeling weight like stones roll off of you, feeling warmth like sunlight on your face.

As if in reply, the listing ship groans and the lights flicker again. “Not yet,” Aegon says, grabbing your hand. “Let’s hope there’s a lifeboat left.”

You wade to the steps and climb out of the water. Aegon helps you wring out your soaked hair and the skirt of your gown, then snatches his black wool coat off the steps where he left it and puts it on you. You race up the Grand Staircase to C-Deck, and then B-Deck, and then the A-Deck landing where you find your green handbag with Aegon’s tiny aluminum lighter still inside.

“I think you dropped this,” Aegon says when he spots the dagger on a nearby step, still covered with Daemon’s blood. He wipes it clean on his corduroy pants and then passes it to you. When you hesitate to take it, he grins. “Who knows. You might need to stab someone else tonight.”

“I never want to draw blood again.” But you accept the dagger and place it in your handbag, the captive gemstones glimmering there: amethyst, tiger’s eye, black opal, emerald, ruby, bloodstone, sapphire like the North Atlantic Ocean that is swallowing Titanic down into her cold, crushing belly. Then you ascend one last flight of steps to the Boat Deck, passing the bronze cherub statue and the ticking clock, stealing a glimpse up at the dome of glass and wrought iron that will soon shatter when the sea punctures through it like a bullet or a blade.

Outside the night air is so frigid that ice crystals begin forming in your hair, and the hem of your blue gown begins to stiffen as it freezes. You are barefoot, you only now realize, and if splinters from the pine planks of the deck needle their way into your flesh you won’t be able to feel them. There are only two lifeboats left on this side of the ship, one of which is already being lowered down to the sea. Officers are still directing women and children into the other. Benjamin Guggenheim and his companions are very drunk, clumsily herding frantic first-class passengers towards the boats. The string quartet is now playing The Merry Widow by Franz Lehár.

“Come, come quickly, Lady Targaryen!” the officers shout when they see you, knowing by your gown that you belong here, perhaps recognizing you from strolls on the Promenade Deck or when you and Daemon boarded Titanic in Cork with much fanfare. Aegon helps you into the lifeboat, his wounded hands cradling yours. Another distress flare is shot into the sky, metallic rain, doomsday portents.

We’re going to be alright, you think. We’re going to survive this.

“Darling, you’re sopping wet!” one of the women in the lifeboat exclaims, and they all begin to fret over you. There are dogs here, a Pomeranian in one lap, a Yorkshire terrier in another.

“Get her under a blanket,” Aegon is saying. “Keep her warm or she’ll get pneumonia. Give her a lifebelt.”

“We will, we will,” another lady shimmering in jewels—a mother of two boys in heavy coats and blue-striped pajamas—promises him. “We’ll take good care of her.”

You turn back to Aegon. “What?”

He tells you, his voice quiet: “Petra, they’re not going to let me in.”

“No, no, you can’t stay here—”

“Women and children only!” an officer booms, then begins waving several shrieking maids towards the vessel, just moments from launching.

“Aegon,” you say, horrified. He’ll die if he stays. He’ll drown or he’ll freeze and he’ll be entombed at the bottom of the Atlantic. “No.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“No you won’t,” you sob, then look desperately at the officers. How can I change their minds? “He’s a Targaryen, he’s a first-class passenger, he must be allowed aboard!”

“A Targaryen?!” one of the officers says distractedly as he battles with the rigging. “I know all the Targaryens on Titanic, and he’s not one of them!”

“Just look at him,” the other officer mutters, meaning: He isn’t dressed like someone with castles or mansions or titles or mines. He can’t be someone who matters.

“He is,” you plead, tears stinging on your cheeks as they freeze. “He’s Aegon, he’s a Targaryen, please, he can’t be left behind—”

“Women and children only!” the first officer barks at you as the other pushes away a group of panicked young men in black suits trying to bribe their way into the vessel. “And if you want to stay here with him, that’s your business, but get to it so the rest of us can try to make it off this ship alive!”

“There’s more than enough room for him, for Christ’s sake, there are dogs in here!”

“There will be other lifeboats, love,” one of the women tells you as she drapes a scratchy wool blanket across your shoulders, but you don’t believe that’s true. The maids are climbing into the lifeboat; the officers are beginning to lower it with sharp lurches that make the occupants gasp.

You reach for Aegon, your hands catching on his drenched shirt, the thin layer of ice cracking beneath your fingers. “No, no, Aegon, I can’t go like this.”

“You have to,” he says calmly, and he holds you face still and touches his lips to your forehead, a kiss goodbye, gentle and lingering.

“No—”

“You have a kid. You have to go. Draco will be looking for you on Carpathia.”

“You deserve to be free too.”

“I’ll stay out of the water for as long as I can,” Aegon says like a vow. “I’ll try to find something to float on. And once Titanic goes down…maybe the lifeboats will come back to pick up any survivors.”

The water is too cold. I’ve felt it, I’ve been paralyzed by it, once you go under you only have minutes. “You can’t…you won’t…”

“Petra,” Aegon says, and his eyes turn desperate. He knows it’s his only chance. “Make them come back for me.”

“I will,” you swear to him.

And he pries your fingers off his shirt and rips away from you before your resolve can weaken. High above and through tears that blur your vision, constellations of stars gleam like diamonds.

~~~~~~~~~~

He runs to the other side of the Boat Deck, searching for lifeboats that haven’t launched yet. He can’t find any. There are swarms of passengers weeping, shouting, jostling, and officers trying to restore order. Pistols and flares are fired, chairs are tossed overboard for passengers to cling to as they float. But Aegon knows that won’t be enough; if they stay submerged, they will die.

I need something bigger. I need something I can lie on. A door or a dresser or…

He shoves through the crowd to get to the ship’s railing. Below, the ocean has gotten so much closer. He sees a lifeboat bobbing in the waves, just far enough away that someone brave enough to leap could not get to it. Inside, along with perhaps twenty first-class women and maids, Aegon recognizes Laenor Velaryon and his ever-present Parisian friends. They are puffing on cigars and toasting glasses of brandy, celebrating their good fortune. They must have successfully bribed their way aboard.

“Fuck,” Aegon sighs, his breath fog in the frigid air.

How am I going to stay out of the water long enough to survive until I’m rescued?

Then he replays the evening in his mind—his first night with Petra, perhaps his last night on earth, red silk and candles and oil paint and the warmth of her beneath his hands—and Aegon gets an idea. He sprints back to the Grand Staircase and soars down to B-Deck, seawater ankle-deep on the floor. He splashes through the corridors to the staterooms once occupied by Daemon Targaryen’s wife and child, now rid of him, now waiting for what will come next. Aegon hurries through the sitting room, passing the taxidermied tiger head above the fireplace and the large, heavy chest where Daemon made Petra lock up the art she bought in Paris.

She didn’t remember to put the real Picasso’s paintings in a lifeboat, but she saved mine, Aegon thinks. If I make it out of this alive somehow, I’m marrying her the second we dock in New York.

He goes to the bedroom, finds what he needs, carries it with him as he returns to the maze of hallways. Now the icy water is nipping at his knees.

~~~~~~~~~~

The ocean is calm, the lifeboat rocking placidly on inky surf. The women comfort their children and their dogs. You take Aegon’s aluminum lighter out of your handbag and light yourself a cigarette, then pass it around so the other passengers can thaw their lungs with hot plumes of nicotine, here in the early hours of the morning when it feels like you’ll never be warm again. The officer who took command of the vessel—the same one who shouted at you and refused to admit Aegon—is rowing vigorously as you and several other women help him, staring horror-struck at Titanic as she goes down by the bow.

“We have to get away from the ship,” the officer keeps saying, and he sounds genuinely petrified. A woman in a glittering gold gown steers with the tiller. “Or she’ll suck us into the water with her.”

There are shadows of other lifeboats nearby, also fleeing from the condemned Titanic, that miraculously colossal and opulent triumph that everyone had told you was unsinkable. You wonder which one Draco and Fern are in, undoubtedly cold and frightened but safe.

Aegon deserves to live too. I have to find him, I have to save him.

Now there is seawater flooding over Titanic’s deck at the bow, where you and Aegon saw third-class passengers—now dead, or very soon to be—kicking around pieces of the iceberg that they didn’t know had doomed them. The ocean surges higher, covering B-Deck, and A-Deck, and finally the Boat Deck, where the towering funnels collapse and you can hear shrieks and guns firing. You know you won’t be able to see Aegon from here—you won’t be able to tell if he made it into a lifeboat somehow, or if he is one of the figures that falls from a lethal height into the waves, or if he is crushed or shot or trapped below deck and drowned—but still, you cannot stop looking for him, peering through the night to where Titanic glows in her spotlight of white-gold electric luminescence.

As the bow sinks, the stern begins to rise, higher and higher until the tension cracks the ship in two, and the passengers you share the lifeboat with wail and sob as the ship’s lights blink out for the last time and the gravesite goes dark. Women call out the names of their husbands, fathers, brothers, adult sons, knowing they must be dying. You can only watch with tears streaming down your face, thinking: How could he survive that? How could I have left him?

The stern bobs for a while in the nightscape sea, a shade, a phantom, and then it plunges into the ocean. The water—indifferent, dispassionate, not a mortal but a titan, here long before humans and destined to outlast them, not unlike the treasures of the earth—gulps down metal beams and pine planks and split bones and shredded flesh. There are screams, so many, so pitiful, so loud they fill the sky, and the howling women in the lifeboat cover their ears and those of their children so they will not have to try to exorcise the sound from their memories later.

As soon as the stern has been consumed by the depths, you say to the officer: “We have to go back to look for survivors.”

“Are you mad, Lady Targaryen?” he snaps at you; but there are tears in his bloodshot eyes. “We’ll be mobbed if we sail into that. They’ll pour into the boat until we go under too. Do you want to freeze to death with them?”

“People will die quickly. They are dying already, the water is cold enough to kill in minutes. If we start rowing towards them now, most of the passengers will be dead by the time we get there. And then we can rescue anyone who’s left.” Please still be alive, Aegon.

“Not a chance in hell,” the officer says.

You turn to the other women. They blink back at you in dazed, timid terror. “It’s murder to leave your men behind,” you implore, you beg them to agree. “Help me row to them.”

But the women only weep softly to themselves and look to the officer to tell them what to do. He smirks at you victoriously, an expression of no humor but rather grim, fearful misery that could drive someone insane. In the lap of one woman, the Pomeranian whimpers.

I can’t leave Aegon, you think. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.

You open your green handbag and pull out the dagger, the blade pointed at the officer. He shouts and bolts away from you, incredulous, furious.

“You’re threatening to kill me?!”

You shake your head. “I’m offering you a gift.” You turn the dagger around so the officer can grasp the handle. His gaze catches, transfixed and wondrous, on the gemstone spheres like perfectly aligned planets. “This dagger is worth more than you would make in a decade of work. Go back for survivors, and it’s yours. Refuse, and when we are rescued and my son inherits my husband’s fortune, I will make it my life’s work to destroy you. I will follow you anywhere on earth. I will ruin you. So take the dagger as payment and break my curse, and let us save the people who are left.”

The lifeboat sways in the small, serene waves, and the stars revolve high above in a moonless sky, and you and the other women wait for the officer to reply. After a minute or more—we have to go back now, right now, we don’t have much time—he finally lifts the dagger from your open palm and tucks it into his belt.

“Fine,” he says, picking up his oar again. “Let’s go. I cannot abide your damnation. I’ll be haunted by enough ghosts already.”

He and several of the other women row into the throng while you find the flashlights stored in the bottom of the lifeboat, then perch at the bow searching for Aegon. Instead you see hundreds of bluish corpses floating in their lifebelts, dead men and women and children, some of them first-class or crewmembers of the ship but most of them third-class passengers: Italian, Polish, Greek, Syrian, Russian, Chinese, Irish, discarded people, good for dying in the operations of mines or factories or railroads and little else.

“Aegon!” you shout over the water, but he does not answer. There is only the mist of your own words and the sound of cold currents rippling as the lifeboat cuts through them.

Your group saves two people from the sea, both nearly frozen to death and unable to speak: one man floating on a table washed out of a dining room, one little girl clutching her dead mother. Then a long time passes with no living souls to salvage.

“Have we done enough now, Lady Targaryen?” the officer asks you gravely. “Have you seen a sufficient number of the dead to assuage your wrath?”

“Not yet,” you say, steely, your eyes fixed on the water as the flashlight illuminates lifeless faces, scraps of wreckage, nothing, nothing, nothing. And then the light settles on him.

When the stern of Titanic went under, so did Aegon: there are ice crystals in his hair, and his clothes are freezing to his skin, and his lips are blue, and he’s shivering violently. But unlike over 1,000 other passengers, he didn’t stay in the depths long enough to perish as the cold stopped their hearts and lungs. He had something with him, a life raft, a second chance, a treasure mined not from some far-flung crevice of the earth but from the bedroom where he uncovered you, where you found each other and never wanted to go back to the way life felt before.

Aegon is sprawled across the oval-shaped mirror that once stood beside your bed, the fractured glass reflecting the stars that glimmer in the night sky. His ravaged hands cling to the wooden frame. And when the beam of the flashlight skates across his face like moonshine, Aegon knows you’ve come back for him, and he reaches for you until your hands link with his and help pull him aboard.

~~~~~~~~~~

Carpathia arrives an hour later, just before four in the morning on April 15th, and as the sun rises over the North Atlantic Ocean you and Aegon find Draco and Fern on the bow deck, where stewards are distributing blankets and tea to the survivors. Women wander the ship pleading for help finding their lost loved ones, weeping endlessly for their brothers, their fathers, their husbands. Your tears have stopped entirely.

Carpathia’s passengers are generous. They offer in charity their food, their clothing, even their rooms. Children share their books and toys with Draco. Fern teaches him how to play marbles; you read him The Story of Saint Patrick. A doctor onboard disinfects and bandages Aegon’s hands, and assures him that he will be able to play viola again, not now, perhaps not even soon, but one day.

That first afternoon, as you and Aegon are taking a stroll on the Boat Deck, you spot a man painting a scene of the sunset: gold, tiger’s eye, ruby, red beryl. Aegon shows him some of the portraits from his scuffed leather portfolio…though, of course, one in particular is not suitable for mixed company. The man is so impressed that he insists Aegon must not be deprived of the ability to create such beauty for lack of supplies, and gifts him an easel and some paper, brushes, and oil paints.

It’s difficult with his sore, bandaged hands, but Aegon still wants to try, and when his brush begins to shake he asks you to help him. Aegon explains things to you as you steady his hands: chiaroscuro, scumbling, alla prima, glazing, impasto, a foreign language that will soon become familiar. Already, you are learning. And as Carpathia sails into New York Harbor on the evening of April 18th, Aegon takes a paintbrush and draws a circle around your ring finger in vivid, sapphire blue, a worthless gift of no gleaming gems or metal, a vow that means everything.

It’s been years, but Aegon remembers the way to his mother’s house. He leads you, Draco, and Fern to the doorstep of the Hightower mansion on Fifth Avenue. He knocks and a butler answers, a middle-aged man who gapes at Aegon in shellshocked disbelief.

“One…one moment, sir, if you’d be so kind to…to…to just wait here, please,” the butler stammers, then disappears inside. A few minutes later, a different man appears in the threshold. He must be Aemond, tall and white-blonde and precise in every movement, his left eye concealed by a black leather eyepatch. His remaining eye, a clear alert blue, darts to where Fern is holding Draco on her hip and then to you and Aegon, his bandaged hands resting so lightly on you they could never leave a mark.

Then Aemond’s face softens, and there is a kind sort of relief that seeps in, and you imagine your parents will look the same way when you return to Lough Cutra Castle. “You’re home,” he says quietly.

And Aegon smiles and replies: “We all are.”

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