#the kiss of deception cast

[mh49uwux]

My cast for The Kiss Of Deception:

Lia:

Kaden:

and Rafe:

alr thats it thank you ! ><

[misswynters]

you giving them an attitude?

suggestive

featuring. sevika x reader, ambessa x reader

requested by anon

sevika

“Still pouting?” Sevika’s deep voice broke the tense silence in the dim room, her tone laced with mockery. She leaned against the table, her metal arm resting heavily on the surface, while her flesh hand held a cigarette lazily between her fingers. Her dark eyes bore into you, amusement flickering within them as you pointedly avoided her gaze.

“I’m not pouting,” you snapped, but your lips betrayed you, jutting out just enough to prove her point. Your arms were crossed tight over your chest as you sat on the edge of the bed, refusing to look her way. “But maybe if you actually bothered to communicate instead of leaving me guessing, I wouldn’t be in this mood.”

Sevika chuckled, the sound low and dangerous, her smirk deepening as she exhaled a plume of smoke. “Oh, so this is my fault now? Didn’t know I had to send you a formal invitation every time I step out the door.”

Her nonchalance only stoked your frustration as you glared at her, your temper flaring hotter than before. “So annoying,” you hissed, shaking your head with your voice trembling in anger.

“Aw... you’re adorable when you’re worked up,” sevika countered, pushing off the table and walking toward you, her broad frame casting a shadow over you. She crouched down slightly, bringing her face level with yours. “Tell me, sweetheart, how long are you planning to keep up this little tantrum?”

Your cheeks flushed with anger and something else entirely as her closeness sent your pulse racing. “It’s not a tantrum,” you shot back, though your voice lacked the conviction you’d hoped for. “I just— I deserve more than half-assed explanations and excuses.”

Sevika tilted her head, her smirk softening, her gaze dipping briefly to your lips before snapping back to your eyes. “You want more?” she murmured, her voice dropping an octave, the weight of her words making your breath hitch.

“Y-Yes,” you stammered, your resolve wavering as her hand came up to brush a strand of hair away from your face.

“Then stop running your mouth and show me,” she growled, her lips so close you could feel the heat radiating off her skin. Her mechanical arm came to rest on the bed beside you, the cool metal brushing against your thigh, sending a shiver up your spine.

You opened your mouth to retort, but the words died on your lips as Sevika closed the remaining distance. Your hands instinctively reached for her, gripping the front of her shirt as if anchoring yourself to her. Her flesh hand cupped the back of your neck, her fingers tangling in your hair as she deepened the kiss, her dominance undeniable.

Ambessa

“You’re awfully bold for someone so small,” Ambessa rumbled, her voice dripping with authority as she stared down at you, her golden eyes glinting with both amusement and challenge. Her towering frame seemed to fill the room, the weight of her presence suffocating yet intoxicating.

“Hmph! You’re awfully arrogant for someone who can’t handle a little backtalk,” you shot back, your voice sharp despite the tremor in your chest. You crossed your arms over your chest, your silk sleeves brushing against the jeweled corset Ambessa had gifted you, the picture of defiance wrapped in hyper-femininity.

Ambessa let out a deep chuckle, her lips curling into a predatory smile as she took a deliberate step closer. “You’ve got a sharp tongue for someone so delicate,” she mused, her tone deceptively soft. “But I wonder… how far will that defiance get you before you beg for my mercy. Right?”

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you refused to back down, meeting her gaze with all the fire you could muster. “Maybe I don’t need your mercy,” you countered, though your voice wavered slightly as her hand reached out, brushing over the pearls adorning your neckline. “-I like pushing your buttons.”

Ambessa’s smile darkened, her fingers sliding up to grip your chin with a firm but gentle hold. “Oh, you do, little one?” she murmured, her voice a seductive growl that sent shivers down your spine. “Do you think your pretty face will save you if you crossed the line?”

“I think you like it when I cross the line,” you replied breathlessly, your lips parting slightly as her thumb traced your jawline.

Her golden eyes darkened, her grip tightening just enough to make your breath hitch. “Careful,” she warned, her voice a whisper against your lips. “Keep testing me, and I’ll show you exactly what happens when you push too far.”

Your bodies were close enough to feel the heat radiating off her. Your pulse raced as she leaned in, her lips ghosting over your ear. “And something tells me you’d like that far too much,” she added, her words sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through you.

taglist. @blckbny @ch-bl0gsss @b-lossm @fortluocha @ekkosh @limereance @wolfessa @themostlesbianever @simonapietra @1-800-fantasy @saikikittykusuo @sevikaishot @sugarplumz100 @chaostudi @wxwrites @m-0-mmy-l-0-ver33 @robzo4 @puppyphia @xreadersarchive @boom58 @d3adbrainer @kylorey25 @slutmeoutfortoge @yaeil @sapphicarribean @randomperson291 @mvistl @hellokittyfeenie @literallyimthenerdemoji @nikaachuuuu @prettysupplicant @iamaboringrattat

[00valentina-writes00]

Power with a hint of passion Passion

|| Ambessa Medarda x reader ||

The grand chambers of Ambessa Medarda’s estate radiated opulence. A roaring fireplace cast a golden glow across the room, dancing over polished wood and deep red velvet. You stood near the window, gazing out at the distant city lights of Piltover, but your attention was stolen by the presence behind you.

Ambessa entered, her commanding stride filling the space. She was dressed in her usual armor, though the chest plate was unfastened, revealing the sculpted curves of her collarbone and a hint of her cleavage. Her sharp golden eyes raked over you, assessing, as if you were both her conquest and her prize.

“I thought I told you to wait for me,” she said, her voice deep and smooth, tinged with amusement. She placed her gauntlets on a nearby table with a deliberate clang, each motion intentional.

“I didn’t realize I needed permission to admire the view,” you replied, your voice steady, though her presence always made your heart race.

Ambessa smirked, the corner of her lips curling upward. “Careful, darling. I don’t tolerate insubordination.” She closed the distance between you, her towering frame casting a shadow as her fingers brushed your chin, tilting your head up to meet her gaze.

Her touch was deceptively gentle, but the power behind it was undeniable. “You challenge me in ways no one else dares,” she murmured, her voice low, almost a growl. “It’s infuriating. And intoxicating.”

Her other hand rested on your waist, fingers tracing lazy circles through the fabric of your clothes. The heat of her palm seeped into your skin, igniting a spark of anticipation.

“You should know by now,” she continued, leaning in until her breath ghosted over your ear, “I always get what I want.”

You shivered, caught between the urge to defy her and the desire to give in completely. Ambessa chuckled softly, clearly savoring your reaction. She was in no rush—control was her domain, and she wielded it effortlessly.

When she finally kissed you, it was anything but tender. Her lips claimed yours with a fervor that left no room for doubt. Her hands moved with precision, one sliding to the small of your back to pull you closer, the other brushing over your jaw to keep you exactly where she wanted you.

As the kiss deepened, you felt the cool press of her armor against your chest, a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from her body. It was a reminder of her duality—both warrior and lover, steel and fire.

When she finally pulled away, her eyes were alight with triumph. “Let me make one thing clear,” she said, her voice a husky whisper as her thumb brushed over your lower lip. “You’re mine. Always.”

[mofongomuncher]

𝙏𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 [!𝙎𝙈𝙐𝙏¡]

(Ekko X Reader)

❥ cast : ! Ekko and Reader ¡

Ekko stood at the far end of his room, his back to you, arms resting on the edge of his table. He was awfully quiet, his chest rising and falling with unspoken thoughts.

You watched him from a far, leaning against the doorway. His shoulders were tense, muscles coiled as if he were carrying more than he'd ever admit. But that was Ekko, wasn't it?

"You're brooding again..." you said, your voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

He turned his head slightly, a small smirk tugged at his lips. "And you're lurking again..Guess we're both predictable."

You stepped into the room, your boots scuffing softly against the floor. The air between you two felt electric, like it always did—charged with tension that neither of you could name, let alone tame.

"Still working on that time device?" you asked, gesturing to the intricate gears and wires scattered across the bench.

He turned fully to face you, leaning back against the table. His eyes—sharp, brown, trailed over you for a moment longer than necessary. "Nah.." he said, his voice low, steady. "That's on pause for today. Had other things on my mind."

You raised an eyebrow. "Hm, Like what?"

His smirk deepened, but it wasn't playful this time. "You. Of course.."

The single word hung in the air, heavy and deliberate. It sent a rush through you, but you didn't flinch. You never did—not in front of Ekko.

Instead, you took another step closer.

"Huh, I don't remember giving you permission to think about me?" you teased, crossing your arms.

Ekko tilted his head, his expression softening. "I didn't think I needed permission"

Your breath hitched, but you masked it with a quiet laugh. "Is that so?"

"Yeah," he said, pushing off the table and closing the distance between you in two slow, deliberate steps. "And you know what? I think you like it don't you!The way you show up, act like you're just here to check on me...But it's more than that, isn't it?"

His words were careful, measured. You felt the heat rise in your chest, spreading through your body like wildfire. He was too close now, the earthy scent of his was now filling your senses.

"You've got a big ego for someone who spends most of his time hiding in here." you shot back.

He chuckled, the sound low and rough. "Yeah maybe...But I'm not wrong, am I?"

Your silence was answered enough, and he knew it. His hand came up, his rough fingers brushing lightly against your jaw. The touch was barely there, but it sent a shiver down your spine. You didn't pull away.

You couldn't.

"You make it hard to stay focused, you know that right? " he murmured, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Every time you walk in, it's like... nothing else even matters anymore."

The weight of his confession settled over you, heavy and intoxicating. You searched his face, looking for any hint of deception, but there was none.

Ekko never played games—not like this.

"You really are trouble aren't you Ekko.." you said softly, the words more for yourself than him.

He smiled, a real one this time, warm and genuine. "So are you huh.."

His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer until there was nothing but the sound of your breaths mingling, the heat of his body against yours. When his lips finally met yours, it wasn't gentle. It was raw, a clash of need and want and months of unspoken tension.

You melted into him, your hands finding their way to his chest, his arms, gripping the fabric of his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. He deepened the kiss, his other hand finding your waist, pulling you even closer.

When you two finally broke apart, gasping for air, his eyes focused on yours, his breath warm against your skin.

"Tell me you don't feel it Y/N.." he whispered, his voice almost desperate.

You swallowed hard, your hands still pressed against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palms.

"I can't" you admitted, your voice barely audible.

His grip on you tightened, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your knees weak. "Then don't push me away."

"I'm not," you said, shaking your head. "But I'm hoping you can handle all of this."

He smiled at your comment, that same reckless, confident grin that made your heart race.

Before you could say anything about his silence, his hands slid lower, gripping your waist. His eyes searched yours, waiting for the moment you might pull away. But you didn't. You leaned into him instead, giving him silent permission to keep going.

"I feel like you're testing me now.." he murmured, his voice low and rough as his lips brushed the shell of your ear. "Like you want to see just how far I'll go."

Your breath hitched as his hands tightened, pulling you flush against him. You felt the tension radiating off his body, the restraint he was barely holding onto. You could feel it too—an ache building in the pit of your stomach, something you'd ignored for too long.

"how far will you go, Ekko?" you whispered.

He exhaled a soft laugh, the sound laced with both amusement and desire. "Far enough to make you forget how much you like to act all tough." he said, tilting your chin up with a single finger. "You talk all big, but you and I both know you've been waiting for this."

You didn't answer—not with words. Instead, you grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down to you, crashing your lips against his. He groaned against your mouth, the sound deep and primal as his hands roamed your body, exploring every curve like he'd been imagining this for months.

The kiss grew heated, messy. He guided you back until your hips hit the edge of the workbench, and in one swift motion, he lifted you onto it. His hands moved to your thighs, spreading them apart as he stepped between them, pressing himself against you in a way that made your head spin.

"You drive me crazy, you know that?" he said against your lips, his voice rough with restraint as his fingers brushed the bare skin of your legs.

"Good.." you whispered, your nails digging into his shoulders as you pulled him closer. "Now you know how I feel."

He chuckled, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a path of open-mouthed kisses that made your breath hitch. His teeth grazed your skin, just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

His hands moved with purpose, gripping your thighs and pulling you further into him. The heat between you was so overwhelming, as his lips returned to yours—capturing you in a kiss. You were his now, and he was going to make sure you knew it.

With a low growl, Ekko pulled away just long enough to guide you back, his hands never leaving your body as he laid you gently on his bed. The room felt smaller, the air thick with tension, every heartbeat quickening. His eyes never left yours as he hovered above you. His hands brushed the strand of hair from your face, his lips grazing your cheek before pressing a soft kiss.

"And I thought you were all talk.." he muttered, his voice rough, but a faint smirk played on his lips. "Guess I was wrong, hm."

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile curling on your lips. "You think I'm just talk?" you whispered, your fingers trailing down his chest, moving deliberately slow. "Maybe, I'm just making you work for it."

You watched as his confidence didn't sway, but there was something in his eyes—something more—that told you this game wasn't as easy for him as he was letting on. Smirking, you slid your hands down his chest to his waist, and with a deliberate movement, you pushed him back onto the bed. He didn't resist, and as he fell back, you crawled over him, straddling him with a mischievous grin.

"Wow, would you look at that?" you teased, your fingers lightly brushing over his chest as you leaned down, your lips hovering just above his. "Who's all tough now, hm?"

His breath hitched slightly, but his gaze remained focused. "You really think laying me down means you've got control here?" he asked, his voice smooth, but there was an edge to it that let you know he wasn't entirely sure about where this was going.

"Mmm, Maybe." you purred, leaning in just enough to brush your lips against his.

You lowered yourself, your lips trailing down his neck as you ground your hips against him, teasing him just enough to make his restraint snap. His hands gripped the sheets beneath him, and you could feel the tension building again, both of you barely keeping control.

"What are you trying to do here doll.." he muttered, but you could hear the hint of amusement in his voice.

You pulled away, hovering over him with a wicked grin. "Mmmm" you hummed, your voice soft but full of challenge "I'm just trying to see how you'll react to me.."

The words hung in the space between you, charged and deliberate, and you watched as his throat tried working to swallow whatever response he thought might be appropriate. But there wasn't one.

Not now.

Not when you could see the flicker of tension in his eyes, the way they darted from your lips to yours, searching for permission, for confirmation, for something—anything. But you weren't giving him answers.

You were giving him a challenge.

His hands finally moved, as they found their place on your hips, his touch firm. You felt the heat of his palms through the thin fabric of your clothes, and it sent a shiver racing up your spine. Still, you didn't move. Not yet. You wanted him to squirm a little longer, to feel the weight of your patience pressing down on him, reminding him just how much control you had in this moment.

When you finally leaned in, it wasn't sudden or rushed. It was deliberate, calculated, your lips brushing against his in a slow, teasing kiss that left him gasping for more. His grip tightened on your hips, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you, no room for hesitation. He kissed you back with a desperation that surprised even himself, his mouth moving greedily against yours as if he couldn't get enough.

It was exactly what you wanted.

You pulled back slightly, breaking the kiss just long enough to catch your breath, and grinned down at him. "Wow, took you long enough." you murmured, your voice thick with satisfaction.

He let out a shaky laugh, his hands sliding up your sides until they reached the hem of your shirt. "You really are something else, you know that?" he said, his tone equal parts exasperation and awe.

"And yet..." you trailed off, arching an eyebrow as you shifted your weight, grinding against him just enough to make him groan.

"You can't seem to resist me hm?."

That did it. His hands were under your shirt in an instant, pushing the fabric up and over your head in one swift motion. The cool air hit your skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his gaze, taking in every inch of exposed flesh. You didn't give him time to linger, though. Leaning down, you captured his lips again, your tongue sliding against his in a way that left no doubt about what you wanted—what you needed.

His hands were everywhere all at once, exploring your body with a hunger that matched your own. You could feel his cock pressing against you, hard and insistent, and it only fueled the fire burning in your veins. Shifting your hips, you grind against him again, earning another desperate moan that vibrated against your lips.

Breaking the kiss, you sat back just enough to take in the sight of his boner beneath you—his cheeks flushed, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his eyes dark with need. "You look so good like this Ekko" you said, trailing a finger down the center of his chest.

"Helpless. And Desperate."

He chuckled weakly, shaking his head.

"You're enjoying this way too much."

"Oh, I so am" you agreed without hesitation, your grin widening as you leaned down to nip at his neck.

"Don't act like you aren't too."

His breath hitched as your teeth grazed his skin, his hands tightening on your waist. "I am..." he managed, his voice strangled.

You smirked against his neck, kissing the spot you'd just bitten before sitting up again. Your hands went to the button of his jeans, and you made quick work of it, tugging them down his legs along with his boxers. He hissed as the cool air hit his sensitive skin, but the sound turned into a groan when your hand wrapped around his thick cock, stroking him slowly, teasingly.

"F-Fuck.." he muttered, his hips jerking up into your touch.

"Patience Ekko.." you scolded, squeezing lightly just to watch him squirm.

He groaned again, but he didn't argue. Instead, his hands found their way to your thighs, gripping them tightly as if he needed something to anchor him. You took your time, exploring every inch of him with your hands, your lips, your tongue, until he was trembling beneath you, his body taut with restraint.

Finally, when you couldn't take the anticipation any longer, you lifted yourself up, removing your pants, tossing it across the room—and positioning yourself over him. His eyes locked onto yours, filled with a mixture of longing and disbelief, and you smiled softly. "Ready?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded wordlessly, his hands moving to your hips to guide you. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, you lowered yourself onto him, feeling every inch of him stretch and fill you. It was so overwhelming, the sensation so intense that it nearly stole your breath away. By the time you were fully seated, your thighs pressed against his, you were both panting.

For a moment, neither of you moved. You simply stayed there, enjoying in the connection, the closeness, the way he seemed to fit perfectly inside you. Then, with a soft exhale, you began to move.

It started slow, a gentle rocking of your hips that drew a low moan from him, his fingers digging into your skin. But it didn't stay slow for long. The pace quickened, your movements becoming more urgent, more desperate, as the pleasure built within you. His hips met yours with every thrust, driving him deeper, harder—until the room was filled with the sounds of your mingled gasps and moans.

You could feel it building, that coil of heat tightening in your belly, threatening to snap with every movement. Overwhelmed by the sensation, you dropped your forehead to his, your breath coming in short, ragged pants. "Don't stop baby" you pleaded, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heartbeat.

His hands gripped you tighter as he drove into you with renewed fervor

His hands roamed over your body, tracing the curve of your spine, gripping your hips, sliding up to cup your breasts. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, sending jolts of pleasure through you, and you arched into his touch, a moan escaping your lips.

"Look at you.." he murmured, his voice rough. His words sent a flush of heat through you, and you increased your pace, your hips rocking faster, harder, chasing that delicious tension building low in your belly. His hands moved to your hips, guiding you, helping you find that perfect rhythm that had both of you gasping for air.

The room was filled with the sounds of your breathing, the slap of skin against skin, the low, guttural noises neither of you could hold back. His eyes never left yours, the connection between you as intense as the physical pleasure coursing through your bodies. You could feel yourself tightening around him, the coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter, threatening to snap.

"Fu—fuck d-don't stop..." you gasped, your nails digging into his chest as you rode him harder, faster, chasing that sweet oblivion. He obliged, his thrusts meeting yours, each one driving you closer to the edge. And then, with a cry, you shattered—cumming all over his warm dick, your body convulsing around him. He followed seconds later, his own release triggering another spike of ecstasy that left you both trembling, clinging to each other as the aftershocks rippled through your bodies.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. You simply stayed there, breathing in sync, basking in the glow of what you'd just shared. Then, with a soft laugh, you leaned down to press a kiss to his lips, slow and tender.

"Let's go again." you hummed, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heartbeat.

"....Guess you can't get enough of me, huh?" he murmured, voice low as he tried to catch his breath, yet the tension in his tone made it clear he was just as eager as you.

Jeezussssss

Check out my Ekko one shots on Wattpad for more stories!! :3

[mrsfancyferrari]

NY Kisses

Summary: LH44 + New Year Kisses

Song: Starboy · The Weekend

Author’s note: Happy New Years! Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 2.7k

MASTERLIST - F1

The bass vibrated through the floor, a steady pulse that mirrored the nervous flutter in your chest. Stepping into the expansive living room, you were immediately engulfed in a cacophony of laughter, chatter, and the clinking of glasses.

Fairy lights twinkled from every available surface, casting a warm, golden glow over the crowd gathered. You recognized a few faces – some of Lewis’s cousins, a couple of his friends – but mostly, the room was a sea of unfamiliar faces.

You clutched your glass of sparkling cider a little tighter, scanning the room.

And then you saw him.

Lewis.

He stood near the fireplace, leaning against the mantle, his posture relaxed yet somehow commanding. He was talking animatedly to a group of people, his head thrown back in laughter, and the sight of him, in that deceptively casual black tank top that highlighted the lean muscles of his arms and shoulders, stole your breath a little.

It was a simple piece of clothing, but on him, it was devastating. Your cheeks warmed, a flush spreading up your neck.

You'd been harboring this crush on Lewis for what felt like forever. He was everything you found attractive: intelligent, funny, kind, and undeniably gorgeous.

And tonight, in this setting, with the promise of a new year hanging in the air, your feelings felt even more heightened, more precarious.

Taking a deep breath, you navigated through the crowd, your eyes drawn back to Lewis every few seconds. A small smile played on his lips as he caught your gaze, and he excused himself from his conversation, making his way towards you.

“Hey,” he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate somewhere deep within you. “You made it.”

“Yeah,” you replied, your voice sounding a little breathless even to your own ears. "Thanks for inviting me.”

He grinned, a flash of white teeth that made your stomach do a little flip. “Wouldn't have been a party without you,” he said, his eyes holding yours for a moment longer than you expected. “How are you doing? Need a refill?”

“I’m good,” you managed, hoping your voice didn't betray the nervous flutter in your chest. “And this is fine, thanks.”

“Come on,” he said, gesturing towards the quieter corner by the windows. “Let’s get you away from the chaos.”

You followed him, feeling ridiculously pleased that he’d singled you out. The corner offered a view of the snowy landscape outside, the streetlights casting long shadows on the pristine white blanket of snow.

“So, how’s your evening been so far?” he asked, leaning back against the window frame, his dark eyes fixed on you.

“It’s great,” you said, honestly. “It’s a really beautiful house. Your family has done a wonderful job decorating.”

He laughed lightly. “My mom is the one responsible for all of this. She gets a little dramatic when it comes to holiday parties.”

“Well, she’s got excellent taste,” you said, feeling more comfortable now, the initial nervousness starting to fade.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice softening. There was a beat of silence, and you found yourself staring at the way the light played on his jawline, the way his dark braids fell across his forehead.

You’d known him for a while, but in this setting, under the soft lights and the buzz of the party, he seemed even more… captivating.

“So,” he started, breaking the silence. “Any big new year’s resolutions?”

You chuckled. "The usual I guess. Trying to exercise a bit more, maybe read a book each month, be a kinder person."

He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “All admirable. Me? I’m just hoping this year is a little less chaotic than the last.”

“I hear that,” you replied.

You talked for what felt like a few minutes, conversation flowing easily between you like it always did. It was one of the things you loved about being around Lewis – even when your heart was a tangled mess of nerves, he always had a way of making you feel comfortable.

He asked about your job, your friends, your plans for the coming year, and he listened with genuine interest, his eyes never leaving yours.

As the night progressed, you found yourselves gravitating back to the corner by the windows. The party around you became a warm hum, background noise to the quiet space you had carved out together.

You laughed at his jokes, told him about a funny incident that happened to you earlier in the week, and watched as the minutes ticked by, bringing you closer to the midnight countdown.

The energy in the room began to build, a tangible excitement thrumming through the crowd. People started gathering in front of the television, where a live feed of the ball dropping in Times Square was being projected.

Lewis moved closer to you, so close that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, the faint scent of his cologne and something else—something inherently him.

Your stomach tightened.

“Almost there,” he whispered, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

He was close enough that you could feel his breath on your cheek, and you could feel every nerve ending in your body prickle to attention.

The countdown began, the television screen flashing numbers in bright, bold font. “Ten… nine… eight…” the crowd chanted along. Your heart beat in your throat, a deafening drum against your ribs.

You risked a glance at Lewis, and found him already looking at you, his eyes dark with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“Seven… six… five…” The world seemed to narrow, focusing just on his face, the curve of his lips, the way the light made his eyes sparkle.

“Four… three… two…” Your gaze dropped to his lips, and you couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to feel his mouth on yours.

The thought sent a thrill of anticipation through you, a yearning so intense it was almost painful.

“One!” The room erupted in cheers, champagne corks popped, and a chorus of "Happy New Year" filled the air. The television screen went dark, replaced by the kaleidoscope of fireworks exploding across the New York skyline.

You turned to Lewis, your heart pounding so hard you were sure he could feel it. The room was still buzzing, but in that moment, it was like the world had faded away, leaving only the two of you.

He leaned in, his gaze locking with yours. For a moment, time seemed to stop, and all you could hear was the frantic beat of your own heart.

His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb gently brushing your skin.

“Happy New Year,” he whispered, his voice barely a breath.

And then, he kissed you.

It was a soft kiss, tentative at first, like he was testing the waters. But then he deepened it, his lips pressing against yours with a warmth and a tenderness that made your knees go weak. You closed your eyes, your hands instinctively reaching up to cup his face.

It was everything you’d imagined, and so much more. The kiss was a promise, a connection, a silent language spoken between two hearts.

When you finally broke apart, breathless and flushed, your forehead touched his. You felt dizzy, like you'd just woken from a dream. You struggled to find the words in a moment so surreal and beautiful.

"That was..." you began, your voice still a little shaky.

He smiled, that gorgeous, heart-stopping smile that always made your breath catch. "It was," he finished for you, his eyes still holding yours, "perfect."

A shy smile stretched across your lips. "Yeah," you whispered. "It really was.”

He chuckled softly, his fingers still lingering on your cheek, and the sound sent a delightful shiver down your spine.

The party raged around you, confetti raining down like colorful snow, but your world was focused on him, on that kiss, and the silent promise of something new, something wonderful, beginning in the first moments of the new year.

"So," you finally said, regaining some of your composure, "does this mean I get a New Year’s kiss every year now?"

His eyes gleamed with mischief and something else that made your heart flutter. “Only if you want one,” he said, his voice husky.

And in that moment, surrounded by the echoes of the party and the promise of a new beginning, you knew exactly what you wanted. You smiled. “I think I do.”

A year later...

The living room was filled with a comfortable hum of chatter and clinking glasses. Fairy lights strung along the mantelpiece cast a warm glow on the faces of your friends huddled on the sofas and armchairs.

The scent of spiced apple cider hung in the air, mingling with the subtle aroma of the pine tree standing proudly in the corner. It was New Year’s Eve, and the anticipation of the countdown felt almost palpable.

Lewis, his arm casually draped over your shoulder, leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Hang on, babe, I need to get something real quick,” he muttered, his voice slightly muffled against your ear.

His eyes, warm with that familiar mischievous glint, met yours for a brief second before he pulled away and headed towards the hallway.

You watched him go, a small smile playing on your lips. He was always doing that – disappearing for a minute only to reappear with some little surprise, some silly thing he thought you’d like.

It was one of the many things you loved about him. Maybe he was grabbing the ridiculous party hat he’d bought that afternoon, the one with plastic champagne bottles bobbing precariously on springs.

The conversation around you ebbed and flowed. You caught snippets of laughter and friendly banter, but your attention kept drifting towards the hallway, waiting for Lewis’s return.

Your friends, noticing your distracted gaze, started teasing you gently.

“Someone’s pining,” Sarah chuckled, nudging you with her elbow. Her eyes sparkled with amusement.

“Leave her alone, she’s just excited for her New Year’s kiss again,” Mark added, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

You blushed, feeling a bit silly. “I am not! I just… I’m wondering what Lewis is getting.” You tried to sound nonchalant, but your voice betrayed your true feelings. You were excited for your New Year’s kiss, especially if it was from Lewis.

"He’s probably just getting more beer," David quipped, causing everyone to laugh. You playfully rolled your eyes.

A wave of a low hum filled the air, the TV flashing a countdown timer. It was getting closer. 11:50. You unconsciously started tapping your foot, a nervous energy building within you.

Where was he? You began to feel a tiny pang of disappointment. You wanted to be with him.

“You alright?” It was Emily, her voice soft and concerned. She had seen the brief shift in your expression.

“Yeah, just…wondering when he’ll be back,” you admitted, trying to keep your tone light.

“He’ll be back soon, don’t worry. He’s probably trying to find the perfect champagne,” she replied with a reassuring smile.

11:55. Your heart was starting to beat a little faster. You could practically feel the collective anticipation in the room. People were adjusting their positions, getting ready to raise their glasses. Where was he?

And then, it happened.

A door slammed somewhere in the house, and suddenly, you heard the unmistakable sound of rapid footsteps. A frantic “Shit!” echoed from the hallway. Then, you saw him.

Lewis burst into the living room, his face a mixture of panic and determination. His braids were slightly disheveled, and he was breathing heavily. He looked as though he had run a marathon. He stopped abruptly just in front of you, his eyes wide.

“I… I lost track of time,” he gasped, his chest heaving. “I was sorting through… through that old box of photos and then I heard the countdown! I didn't realize it was almost midnight.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. He’d been looking at old photos? That was completely unexpected.

“You’ve been gone ages,” you said, your tone a mix of relief and amusement.

He ignored your comment, focusing all his attention on you. His eyes were fixed on yours, the same warm, mischievous glint now replaced with something akin to urgency. It was a look you didn’t often see, and it made your stomach flutter.

"It's not.. it's not midnight yet, is it?" he asked, almost panting.

You glanced at the television screen. 11:59:50. The seconds were ticking down rapidly.

"Almost," you answered, your voice a soft whisper.

He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your face. “I didn’t… I didn’t want to miss it.”

You could hear the muffled sounds of the countdown, the excited murmurings around you. Your heart was practically thudding against your ribs. You looked up at him, your gaze locking with his.

The room around you seemed to fade away, leaving only him, his breath warm on your skin.

11:59:55… 11:59:56… 11:59:57…

“You okay?” you asked, a smile playing on your lips.

He laughed softly, a sound that sent shivers down your spine. "Never better," he whispered, his eyes never leaving yours.

11:59:58… 11:59:59…

He leaned in, his gaze intense, and you closed the small gap between you two, your hands coming up to rest on his chest.

“Happy New Year,” he breathed against your lips, just as the room erupted in cheers and clinking glasses.

00:00

His lips met yours in a sweet, tender kiss that sent a wave of warmth through your entire body. It was nothing like the stolen pecks you two often shared, or the lingering kisses filled with playful teasing. This felt…different.

It was a kiss that held the weight of our feelings, a silent promise of the year to come. You felt yourself melt into him, completely lost in that shared moment.

The kiss lasted a moment longer than it should have, a moment where it felt as if the rest of the world had faded away. When you finally broke apart, breathless and smiling, the room was filled with the sound of happy chatter and the pop of champagne corks.

“Happy New Year,” you repeated, your voice soft. Your eyes still hadn't left his.

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with happiness. He ran a hand through his already disheveled braids. "I'm sorry, I got caught up... I didn't mean to leave you hanging."

You chuckled, playfully nudging him with your elbow. “It’s alright. It was worth the wait.” you glanced at the TV, which was now displaying a celebratory message.

"What were you doing, anyway? Looking at old photos?"

He nodded, his cheeks gaining a light pink hue. “Yeah, I found this old box in the attic. There were a bunch of photos from us last year, and I… I just got a bit lost in them, I guess.”

A warmth spread through your chest. He’d been looking at old pictures of you two? Your feelings for him felt even more profound than they had before.

“That’s… that’s lovely,” you said, your voice a soft whisper.

He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yeah. I realized that… I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather spend New Year’s with.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. The room around you faded once again, leaving only you and him in this small bubble of intimacy. You felt a surge of happiness so strongly that it almost took your breath away.

"I feel the same way," you admitted, your smile widening.

He leaned in and kissed you again, a quick, playful peck this time. “So, what do you say we ditch this crowd and find a quiet spot to, uh... look at some old photos?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

You laughed, a genuine, joyful sound. “I think that’s the best idea I’ve heard all night.”

He took your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. As you two walked out of the living room, leaving the celebrating crowd behind, you felt a sense of peace and contentment wash over you.

The New Year had just begun, and you knew that, with Lewis by your side, it was going to be an extraordinary one. The chaos of the near-miss midnight kiss had faded, replaced by a quiet understanding, a shared moment of connection that felt more significant than any grand gesture. It was a perfect start to the year, and it was all you could ever have asked for.

He was all you could ever have asked for. . . .

[sunswish]

☆, — 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 | 𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐚 𝐑𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐟𝐟

✧.* 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲; Natasha couldn’t sleep after her last mission.

✧.* 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠; sad nat, comforting, fluff, mentions of death.

✧.* 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭; 998.

✧.* 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬; just something small I wrote because I wish I could give nat all the love she deserves. English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes I might have made.

✧.* a special spot for my lovely @notanactressyayy! This profile exists thanks to her encouragement. ♡

“Nat,” your voice was soft when it reached Natasha’s ears and her tired eyes found yours. With a gentle smile forming on her lips, she closed her laptop, the graphic pictures from her last mission disappearing as the screen turned off.

“Why did you wake up, my love?” She asked calmly, her arms wrapping around your waist. Your hands found her hair, your fingers massaging her scalp, and the air inside her lungs seemed fresher now.

“You left,” you answered in a sleepy tone that made her heart swell. She buried her face on your stomach when you sat on her desk, your scent flooding her senses.

“I thought you wouldn’t notice,” she lied against your shirt, her green eyes avoiding yours. “You should go back to bed, I will be there soon,” another lie.

You sighed softly, tilting her head up to meet your eyes, and Natasha feared she would find deception in them — but, as if to shake away the insecurities of her past, she found love. A warmth spread through her chest, and she swore it was something sent directly from heaven.

It was divine.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” you whispered, giving her forehead a gentle kiss. Your fingers traced their way down her cheeks and her skin tingled under your digits. She thought about your words for a moment before speaking.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said — confessed. Her hands tightened on your waist in an attempt to keep her emotions in check, to keep them bottled up. Her shoulders got tense, and she frowned a little, hesitant. “Today’s mission was… rough.”

There was something about the way she pronounced the word, something in the weight of it on her tongue — it wasn't just an usual mission. Your gaze held hers, trying to read her eyes. What happened out there? How much pain was she hiding from you? How restless was her soul?

“We walked into an ambush,” she explained quietly, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she looked away. “Things got difficult in the open field and we went to a safe house nearby, but there were more of them waiting for us. I should have considered this possibility, I should have been more cautious.”

Natasha’s hand let go of your waist to run through her hair, and the lights casted a soft, yellow glow on her skin. The dark circles under her eyes became more pronounced, and she rubbed them.

“If I had checked everything before letting my team go inside,” she said regretfully. “Maybe they would still be here. Maybe they would have returned to their families. But they aren’t, and their families won’t ever see them again.”

She looked down at her lap, a lonely tear streaming down her face. “And it’s my fault,” she whispered, shaking her head slightly, and all you wanted was to take that weight off her shoulders, to give her some peace.

“No,” you uttered in a quiet voice, cupping her cheeks with tenderness. You wiped the single tear that rolled down her face, your touch fond and careful. “It’s not your fault. The evil of others and their cruelty are not your fault.”

Natasha looked at you in confusion; how could you show such compassion for someone like her, flawed and undeserving of redemption? The warmth of your palms against her face spread through her skin, your love seeping inside her veins and flowing through her body, nurturing her broken soul.

“I don’t deserve it,” she whispered, closing her eyes and nuzzling into your touch, her silent tears lingering on your fingers. Your lips found her face, pressing gentle kisses to her forehead and cheeks.

“Yes, you do. You're proof that people can be good, that there is still humanity inside people’s hearts. You dedicate your life to save, to heal the world we live in,” you tilted her head to look into her eyes, and deep inside, you saw it — the flicker of belief. Everything that came out of your mouth, Natasha took it like an ultimate truth.

“If there’s someone who truly deserves love in this world, Natasha, that person is you,” the words left your mouth like a silent vow, meant only for her. They were a promise she would carry with her forever.

She melted into your embrace, letting herself be held, letting the weight on her chest dissolve. Her fingers traced absent patterns on your back, the silent language of gratitude. Her breath steadied against your neck, and peace finally found its way to her heart.

Natasha sought your warmth, her fingers grazing yours before intertwining them. Foreheads pressed together, she breathed you in.

“Thank you, milaya,” she whispered, sincerity dripping from her lips. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

She held you tighter, leaning in and kissing you with reverence, savoring your taste, the warmth you sparkled inside her. In your arms, she was safe, sheltered from the storm. Breaking apart, you brushed a hair strand behind her ear, eager to see every part of her, and she smiled.

“I think I’m ready to sleep now,” she murmured, both of you glancing at the clock on the wall. A soft chuckle left your throat and her chest flooded with serenity.

“That’s good, because I can barely keep my eyes open,” you teased and a smirk formed on her face. You guided her back to the bedroom, the dark room bathing you two in shadows.

When you both crawled under the covers, the soft mattress dipped under the weight, and Natasha quickly found her way into your arms. Your hands stroked her hair, fingers gently caressing her scalp, and you could feel the way her body relaxed against yours.

“I love you, Natalia,” you whispered to her and she hummed against your neck, the low sound reverberating through your body.

“I love you too, milaya.”

For the first time in years, Natasha slept until sunlight, no nightmares or doubts creeping into her rest.

[ellesthots]

“twin bed”

read on AO3 ❤️‍🔥

plot: bruce wayne visits your family home, but you struggle to find time alone together.

pairing: (battinson!)bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, mdni, smut, oral sex, fingering, teasing, risky

words: 2.8k

Dinner had been good—great, even. The drinks were never late, the food delicious and warm. The only complication in the whole affair regarded lodging; you were staying at your parent’s house, which they’d insisted upon. This wasn’t the first time Bruce had met your parents, but it was the first trip dedicated to spending time together as a group. The brief initial meetings had made quite the impression, so much so they already considered him a part of the family. 

Meaning? Polite luxuries were no longer afforded, and they had him camping out on an air mattress in your childhood bedroom beside your tiny twin bed. 

Bruce didn’t mind. He was so used to sleeping on a hard cot in the basement of Wayne Tower that the air mattress was a sort of opulence. Most importantly, he thoroughly enjoyed time with your family. Seeing you in your element, getting to know the people who had helped mold you into the person he loved, was blissful. He would’ve slept on cement without complaint.

The first night, two days ago, you’d been so petrified of your parents overhearing that you barely even let him kiss you, despite how badly you craved his touch. He’d been working relentlessly the past month, various charity appearances and meetings about more charity appearances taking up his days, and high-intensity patrols taking up his nights. This week was supposed to be a vacation, but you couldn’t get a true moment alone. Stolen kisses and gripped thighs under tables weren’t enough to satiate your desire for closeness.

Last night you’d prayed for your parents to tuck in early, as they usually did, but they’d kept the both of you up until three in the morning with a deceptively intense game of Monopoly. It had tuckered the both of you out enough to pass out immediately. You’d slept until mid-afternoon, waking to a text from your mother about spending the evening at her friend’s birthday party—and that your sister would visit in their place. 

She hadn’t yet met Bruce, and was entirely enamored. Her eyes glittered every time he acknowledged her. When he excused himself to use the restroom, she leaned in with excited, jealous whispers. The next few hours were a bore.

Bruce caught onto your need for escape like you’d spoken it aloud. He pretended to surprise you with dinner reservations, and hastily made them in the car ride over. Your head throbbed with so much fawning conversation, always surrounded by prying eyes and ears. And you had another four days of this, with a family party pinned at the end of it. 

By some stroke of luck, your sister had abandoned the house by the time dinner plans were completed. Opening the door to an empty, quiet home was a godsend, and you slipped off your jacket and slunk to the bedroom to change. Bruce followed close behind. You fell onto the bed and slipped off your heels, rubbing the side of your foot where they had pinched. Your vision trailed along his legs when he tossed off his dress pants and pulled on a pair of gray sweats. His hips pulled forward as he shrugged off his blazer and yanked on a tee, creating a yummy print against the light fabric. You felt your body flush, and checked the time. It would be at least a few minutes until they got back…

You shimmied out of your underwear and sat on your knees, staring at him hungrily. Maybe it was the fact the room was dark aside from dim, faded fairy lights you’d put up years ago, casting beautiful mountains and valleys across his briefly exposed chest. Or maybe that it had been weeks, and your body felt tight with need, hoarding every second of that time like a grudge. You couldn’t decide what you wanted first—to touch him or him to touch you. For his fingers, or his lips, or…

He walked to the side of your bed, smoothing your hair behind your ear with a calloused hand. His movements were innocent and slow, and you knew he was acting oblivious. There was no universe where he immediately caught onto your boredom but couldn’t tell how intensely you ached to be taken care of now. You vibrated with it, full to the brim, desire so bloomed it blurred your vision. 

Was he waiting for you to beg for it? Would he really make you beg? Or was he playing safe, assuming your parents would be back any second? The thought only made you want to rush, not stall. Only increased the desperate pull for him to be on top of you, or you on top of him or, fuck, anything. 

You started pulling down his pants but Bruce shook his head; he let the rejection hang for a moment, watching the quiet flicker of your eyes across his face, gauging your reaction as he sunk down to his knees. The only sound was the air mattress sliding across the floor with a satisfying shick, and a creak of coils within your mattress as he moved a warm hand to your thigh and spread your legs.

He moved his hands underneath you and hooked around your legs, gently scooting your hips to the bed’s edge. The quilt you laid on cushioned your elbows as you sat up to watch him with wide eyes. Vibrant anticipation made your mouth water, peppering goosebumps up your arms and down your legs. The dim lighting framed his wide shoulders in half-shadow and accentuated the valleys his fingers created in the flesh of your thighs.

His eyes flicked up to yours and all thought vaporized as he brought his mouth to your clit. You held a breath. His eye contact was immobilizing, bringing heat to your cheeks and closing your throat. You only realized his hands had wandered when you felt a squeeze around the fleshy part of your waist. Your attention had been bought and fate sealed when his tongue pressed between the folds of your pussy, sending a soft rumble of pleasure up your core. 

You inhaled sharply as a hand traced down the side of your body, spurring a shiver at the base of your spine. The bedframe creaked as his weight adjusted against it, a finger teasing your entrance. He watched as your breathing shallowed and your subtle, quick nod shook the fragile twin bed. 

He wanted to watch your reaction when… your lashes fluttered as he slid his finger in, simultaneously pressing his mouth firmer against you. God, you tasted so fucking sweet. He suppressed a moan so he could better hear yours when he added a second finger, and oh, his body was unprepared for the sound. Your hips bucked against his mouth, and he let out an involuntary moan as your slick drenched his chin. He pumped his fingers deeper, harder, and suddenly your hands were in his hair.

His eyes dipped down only to pull back and visualize your arousal; your fingers slacked in his hair, a longing whimper slipping off your tongue at the pause. You were puffy, swollen, and the most delicious shade of pink. He drew a long, deep breath, half teasing, half preparatory. He brought his wet, pursed lips a centimeter away; your body tensed in anticipation, the room’s air turned static. 

Tight puffs of warm air caressed your clit, and your elbows slipped as your head fell back; your low groan was his cue to close the distance and lap at you, his fingers motionless inside. He kept a deliberate tempo, every few seconds leaning a little closer, moving his tongue a bit faster. He was waiting for it to be too much, patient for your hands to rip at his hair until it stung. Mmms and ahhs accompanied the thick, wet noises between your thighs, and he nearly lost himself in them. 

Usually you folded before this point, but you were making him work for it tonight—challenge accepted. He broke the suction and slowly withdrew his fingers, reaching for your spare hand. “Look at me,” and you immediately obeyed without protest, not even a sarcastic tease. His heart skipped. Ooh, you needed him. Even in the low light he saw how thrown you were by the width of your pupils and the slack in your jaw. His cock twitched under his sweats, his thoughts loosening. 

“Please,” you pleaded, shifting your hips closer. Bruce grinned when you grabbed the back of his head. He felt the insistence within your palm and obliged, moving his mouth back down. A part of him felt bad—you were never this needy. But the beauty in the trembling arch of your back and the heat emanating off every inch of your skin was so intoxicating he couldn’t resist keeping you here. He dragged his tongue lower, circling your entrance until your grip tightened, but not enough. Not yet. 

The warm, unhurried slip of his tongue against your clit had your moans echo off the walls. His pace was achingly slow, but you couldn’t complain when his mouth knew your body this well. His easy tempo continued for minutes, decreasing each time he felt your walls clench around his fingers. Tension built in your stomach and your back arched higher off the mattress. The sweeping motions of his tongue were languid, but his flicks were hard and calculated. You grabbed another fistful of his hair and yanked as his swipes turned to sucking, and he groaned against it. 

You shrieked as his fingers entered you once more, the come here motion hitting that dull, heady spot over, and over, and… “Fuck,” you cursed, face tense as he worked you to the edge. He was hitting that spot relentlessly, and the noises of your soaked cunt were downright pornographic. 

He felt your pussy clench hard around his fingers, and his mouth separated from you with a pop. “Go, baby.” He coached you as he curled his fingers higher. The room was hazy, his senses attuned only to your face and his fingers. His gravelly voice was strained by his own mounting desire. “Cum for me.”

You bit your lip and fought it; he couldn’t overwhelm you this easily, work you as he pleased. Even though he was right and you were on the edge of completion, almost dangling off the cliff, you wouldn’t let him have it so easily. He didn’t let you have it so easily. Remembering the torturous speed of the past ten minutes… and how fucking perfectly he was nailing you right now. 

Your breathing slowed intentionally when he moved up to kiss you. A whimper slipped from your lips as you held your orgasm at arm’s length, and Bruce’s brow cocked when he realized what you were attempting. “C’mon,” he purred, nudging your jaw out of the way to press a wet kiss to the nape of your neck. Your pulse hammered beneath his lips, betraying you, his hot breath matching the pace of his fingers as they fucked you. 

“Not so easily.” You managed a breathless sentence, the end frayed with a whine as he pulled his fingers out to circle the pearl of your clit. Your teeth made an indent in your lower lip, failing to keep secret how you were putty in his hands. 

His blue eyes bore into yours, framed by his straight, dark hair. His cologne mocked you this close, weakening your resolve. Your body quivered, barely able to keep moans from spilling out in an endless chorus, singing his praises. He grinned, speeding up his pointer and middle fingers. “Let it out, baby.” he kissed along your collarbone, dragging his lips down to your nipple. A moan hummed from his chest as his tongue swirled it, making you yelp. “I can tell you need it.” 

His coaxing wouldn’t undo you, his coaxing wouldn’t… you gasped as his fingers pushed inside again. You shook your head, face heating. He paused and thank god he had, because you needed a split second to contain yourself. “Want me to stop?”

“No.” You pushed your hips down on his fingers and grinded on them, moans and whines escaping full force. The bed creaked under the impact, a laugh mingling with a moan as you noticed his eyes flash, then darken. His jaw dropped open, beginning to pant. It was water. You were water. 

The room spun. He kissed his way down your torso until he could finally taste you again. Impossibly wet, impossible to keep up with the gyration of your hips and the roll of your waist. His tone tempted the Bat when it got this ragged. “Fuck,” he swallowed hard, as if it were the last breath he’d ever take. And maybe it would be, the way you weren’t leaving him room to breathe. 

He wanted to egg you on. Fuck yourself on my fingers, he’d gasp, but he was worried you’d stop. Somewhere the script had flipped and you were teasing him now, commanding control. You always melted him like this. “Take what you need.” 

The words unraveled you. Your body slammed the length of his fingers, jamming the headboard into the wall without mercy. “Another,” you groaned, feeling instantly fuller. His knuckles, the angle of his fingers, and the pinprick pain of hickeys he stained along your skin made you feral. “Please,” you mewled, threading shaking fingers through his sweaty hair. He’d caught your staggered rhythm; you closed your eyes and submitted to the pleasure of each thrust, as sensitive as you’d ever been. 

Bruce felt like you were riding him; he swore he felt each slip of his fingers on his throbbing dick, his hips twitching in unison with his hands. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Broken curses fell from your lips and you tightened around his fingers. His cheeks burned scarlet. He didn’t know if he was still breathing. Everything in the world left him. 

You didn’t have to say anything; he felt it in the tremble of your legs, saw it etched in the crease between your eyebrows. “That’s it,” he coached you through it, feeling you clench so tight his breathing hitched. “Perfect baby, cum for me.”

Your hands landed on his shoulders, nails digging into sweaty, flaming skin as your climax shot through you. Your hips bounced erratically, Bruce’s fingers still fucked you through it, your pussy a useless, trembling, spasming mess. The white-hot release flooded your brain with TV static, a rush which cascaded through every cell in your body. Your mouth opened wider to free a guttural moan when you suddenly felt empty, clenching around nothing, and his hand clamped down on your mouth, muffling you. 

“They’re back,” he whispered, gulping for breath. You writhed, simultaneously wrestling against the forced silence and grateful he’d heard, body contracting and jumping beneath him. “Shh…” he soothed, his dominating gaze quickly placating your throbbing frame. You blinked down the residual high when you heard the front door shut, footsteps entering the hall. 

“Back from the party! Brought you guys some cake.” 

Hearing your parent’s voice so soon after was disorienting; Bruce paused, waiting a second longer to drop his hand. You stared at each other a moment, completely still, until a smile crept on his face and you laughed. 

“I’ll have to wait a minute.” Bruce sat up, adjusting his sweats with a heavy sigh. Your eyes traveled the dark room, catching your breath like you’d just run a mile. His fingers never felt that good before, his tongue never worked such brutal magic. He interrupted your reverie. 

“You okay?” He was breathless too, his shirt limp and stretched haphazardly. He looked dazed, and blushed when you didn’t immediately answer. “Sorry for teasing. You just…” he turned tomato red. 

“Just what?”

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he confessed, focusing on your smile as you leaned toward him. Your hand rested on his knee; his Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Come try it, you two.” 

You felt like a teenager again. “I have an idea.” Your fingers trailed toward his waistband. “You better simmer down, or we’ll get in trouble. Cake tasting’s important, you know.” 

“Evidently…” he tried to measure your parent’s wrath against the ache in his boxers, half shocked he was even considering being so reckless. How soundproof was this room?

“More than okay.” You finally answered, tugging at his drawstring until the knot untied. He drew a quick breath, but didn’t pull away.

“I won’t be able to be quiet,” he admitted, flustered.

The walls narrowed to the space between your lips and his. You knew your parents would soon unwind in the living room across the house, unable to hear a peep—but Bruce didn’t. “Is that a challenge?”

a/n: apparently i have writer’s block but not for bruce wayne smut, so here you go <3 i think it’s cute for Bruce to have the experience of parents interrupting something, since he likely didn’t have that experience growing up !! at least battinson probably didn’t, lmao. also he’s a total munch. a real eater. let me know what you think !!

[austinbutlerslovers]

His Every Desire

Label Mature 18+

Summary As Austins new secretary, you ensure he has everything he needs as a CEO before he even thinks to ask.

🔗Masterlist

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 Austin Butler CEO x Secretary • his best • his favorite • hidden feelings • mild angst • kiss it better• satisfying boss• clit play •nipple play• sex w boss on his desk • P in V • orgasms • creampie •aftercare

*written asap by popular demand/multiple scenario DMs

His Every Desire

The sun streams through the towering glass windows of Austin Butler’s corner office, casting warm, golden light over the sleek marble floors and the expansive view of the city below.

From the fifty-fifth floor, everything seems miniature—the cars, the people, the constant motion of life. But inside this office, within the walls of his empire, Austin is untouchable.

He’s a force—perfection in a tailored suit. Every inch of him is calculated, pristine, an effortless command of power and presence.

You bring his oat milk latte to his desk, careful not to let your hands tremble as you set it down beside a stack of documents that need his signature.

He barely glances up at first, his sandy blonde hair falling forward in his face before he tucks it behind his ear in a way that only adds to his effortless charm.

His attention is fixed on the glowing screen before him, fingers scrolling through a flood of emails, but then, as always, his gaze finds you.

“Perfect timing,” he says, and the way his full lips curve into the kindest smile makes your stomach flutter. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

His voice is smooth and deep whenever he compliments you making your thoughts slip away like silk between your fingers.

His piercing blue eyes look over you, studying you in that way he does, as if you’re something far more intriguing than a mere secretary.

“You always know what I need before I do,” he muses, adjusting his watch, a vintage Patek Philippe that gleams against his wrist.

“Have I told you how much I appreciate you yet?” He says looking at you with a knowing grin.

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks and he notices immediately—He always does.

“Thank you, Mr. Butler,” you respond, stepping back, but not before he tilts his head slightly, eyes narrowing with quiet amusement.

“Austin,” he corrects, his gaze lingering a moment too long. “Call me Austin.”

Your heart hammers in your chest, but you force a nod, turning to leave before you can embarrass yourself further.

Each day is a delicate balancing act, a test of your willpower.

Your new boss is charming, intelligent, impossibly handsome—and married. That fact alone should be enough to douse the growing fire inside you.

But it doesn’t.

You dutifully pick up his dry cleaning, order his lunch, and arrange meetings that dictate the trajectory of his multi-million dollar deals.

And when he’s not commanding boardrooms, he’s asking you personal questions in the quiet moments—questions that make you blush, that peel away layers you hadn’t meant to expose.

“Do you ever see yourself doing more than this?” he asked once when his office was quiet and the city lights glittered outside the window.

You were leaning over his desk, quickly organizing a set of contracts he needed for an early morning meeting. Your fingers moving with practiced efficiency ensuring every signature line was visible, every figure highlighted just the way he liked.

Your breath caught mid-motion, and you glanced up at him, finding his blue eyes watching you with an intensity that made your stomach flip.

“More than… this?” you asked, unsure if he was talking about your job or something else entirely.

Austin’s lips curved slightly, a knowing glint flashing in his eyes. He leaned back in his chair, one hand resting on his jaw, his thumb grazing his bottom lip in a way that made it hard to focus.

“Beyond being my secretary,” he clarified, his tone deceptively casual, though there was something heavier underneath, something that sent a flutter through your chest.

You bashfully tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I like my place here.” You smiled, your heart racing a little too fast.

“With me?” He confirmed, his voice low and teasing, but there was something else in his eyes, something you couldn’t ignore.

You forced a small smile, trying not to think too much about the way he was looking at you.

“Yes,” you confirmed, glancing up at him through your lashes. “I like being with you.”

His eyes darkened just a fraction, and for a fleeting moment, you saw something different than his usual calm demeanor —something more.

He studied you, his blue eyes trailing over your face, taking in every unspoken detail, then he simply nodded, his gaze dropping to the papers in front of you.

You smiled again, refocusing on your task, but his words stuck in your mind long after you’d left his office.

And from that moment on everything began to change.

Austin swiftly filed for divorce — stunning almost everyone, and after the proceedings began he was no longer the same.

There had been signs of dissolution as you worked for him, subtle at first, but undeniable.

The tension in his jaw when he took calls that lasted too long behind the heavy doors of his office.

His wedding band, once a constant fixture on his hand, usually left sitting on the edge of his desk if even seen at all.

But when the news broke that he had officially filed, it felt sudden, like a storm that had been brewing just beyond the horizon, finally crashing down

The office felt different—he felt different. And it unnerved you in ways you couldn’t quite explain.

He could barely look at you as you worked together on his upcoming merger, and when he did, the focus in his eyes was gone, replaced by something distant and unreadable.

He was distracted, tense, and suddenly, every little thing you did felt all wrong.

The first mistake was minor—forgetting to send an updated briefing to the legal team. You caught it in time, but the way his eyes narrowed when he noticed made your stomach twist with guilt.

Then came the missed reschedule of an important client call. His voice had been sharp when he pointed out that he couldn’t afford slip-ups right now.

“You need to be on top of this,” he had said, his tone firm but distant, his eyes scanning you with something close to disappointment. “I need you to be on top of this for me.”

You had nodded quickly, swallowing past the lump in your throat, forcing an answer that felt too tight. “Of course. It won’t happen again.” you responded.

But it did. More than once.

Misplaced memos. A forgotten lunch order. Your nerves frayed more with each passing day, and the more you tried to prove yourself, the more mistakes you seemed to make.

The pressure was suffocating, and the cold way he spoke to you now—like you were just another problem he had to manage—only made it worse.

Late in the evening after being able to correct most of your mistakes for the day, you walk into his office carrying several folders for his upcoming court hearing, your hands trembling under the weight of your nerves.

When you step inside, he doesn’t even look up from his computer screen.

“Set them there,” he says directly his tone cold.

But your fingers slip, and the documents spill onto the floor, pages scattering everywhere,the fluttering sound almost suffocating.

“Fuck,” Austin curses, the frustration in his voice sharp and unforgiving as he stands abruptly to assess the damage. “Do you even know what you’re doing anymore?” He snaps.

His words hit like a slap, and you bite your lip willing the tears back. Your hands fumble as you cower to gather the papers, but Austin is already there, crouching down beside you, and suddenly the anger in his eyes is replaced by something softer.

His hand brushes yours, and you freeze.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, his voice a stark contrast to the harshness from moments before. “You don’t deserve this.”

You slowly nod, unable to even look at him, your eyes fixed on the mess still scattered between you, the tears making it all blur. But Austin’s fingers lightly grip your wrist, steady and warm, as he helps you to your feet.

For the first time, you’re standing so close to him that you can see the faint freckles dusting his cheeks, the vivid depth of his blue eyes, making your heart pound wildly in your chest.

“Austin, I-I should be the one apologizing—” you confess, your voice shaky.

But he doesn’t let you finish. His hand comes up, fingers brushing over your cheek.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he says, his voice low and steady. “Not to me. Not for this.”

His thumb lingers just beneath your eye, wiping away a tear you didn’t realize had fallen. “I’ve been so hard on you..—And I shouldn’t have been…” he confesses his voiced tinged with guilt. “You’ve been nothing but good to me.”

Your lips part, but no words come. The sincerity in his voice unravels you, and the intensity in his gaze holds you captive, making it impossible to speak.

Before you can say more, his lips are on yours—as if he’s been holding back for far too long.

The folders slip from your hand once again, papers scattering at your feet, but this time neither of you care.

His hands slide to your jaw, his thumbs tilting your chin up to fit your mouth perfectly against his, your lips moving effortlessly in a kiss that deepens with every passing second.

His hands slide down your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you grip his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palms.

The city sprawls beneath you, but the only thing you can focus on is him—his breath warm against your skin as his mouth moves to your neck, whispering words that make you weak.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he says between kisses, his lips tracing a path that leaves you dizzy. “I can’t stop thinking about you— I can’t—”

You feel the cool glass against your back as he presses you to the window, his hands trailing down your body with a slow, aching need.

His forehead presses to yours, his breath warm and ragged against your lips his voice filled with conflict. “Tell me to stop,” he whispers, his grip on your hips tightening as he betrays every word.

But you don’t. You can’t.

His lips claim yours again, and this time, it’s as if all the stress, the frustration and the longing has built to this inevitable moment.

You let yourself forget everything—the divorce, the looming merger, the crushing weight of responsibility. In this moment, none of it exists. All that matters is the way he’s holding you, as if he’s finally admitting what he’s known all along.

As his fingers thread through your hair, pulling you even closer, you know you’re falling—falling into something you can’t control, something that might even break you.

But right now, you don’t care.

The glass window cools your back, but the heat radiating from his touch is consuming, making it impossible to think of anything but him—his scent, the warmth of his breath brushing over your lips, the way his blue eyes lock onto yours, filled with an intensity that leaves you speechless.

His voice is low, his lips hovering so close that his breath fans over your skin. “Do you want this?” He asks.

Your lips part, your voice barely audible as you answer. “Yes,” the confession slipping out before you can even stop it.

His jaw clenches, and something dark flickers in his expression—something deep and unrelenting. “Say it again.” He commands.

You swallow hard, the weight of his gaze stealing what little composure you have left. “I want you,” you breathe, and the sound of it sends a shudder through him.

Before you can catch your breath, his hands are on your waist, lifting you effortlessly onto his desk. The polished surface feels cool beneath your skin as he guides your legs apart, his large hands sliding up your thighs, pushing your skirt higher until there’s nothing but your panties between you and him.

He glances down his fingers skimming along the inside of your thigh before rubbing your clit through the fabric.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this,” he says, his voice lower as he leans in, his lips grazing your jaw.

“How many times I’ve watched you walk into my office and wondered how you’d feel on me.” he confesses as each roll of his fingers on your clit feels more torturous than the last.

His other hand finds the hem of your blouse, slipping beneath it as his palm cups your breast. “Tell me you’ve thought about it too.” he whispers.

You can’t even think—not when his mouth starts kissing against the hollow of your throat as his fingers flick heavily over your clit. “I—I have,” you blurt out, your voice barely a breath.

“I want to make it real” he says, his lips brushing against your ear as his hand slips to his belt, unfastening it with a slow, measured pull that makes your core throb.

Your chest rises and falls as he pulls your panties aside, his knuckles brushing against your wetness making you clench around nothing.

“You’re soaked for me,” he muses, his eyes dark with need as he presses his fingers firmly against your slickness.

A soft moan escapes your lips desperately wanting more and it’s all he needs to hear.

His hands slowly grip your thighs as he pulls you closer to the edge, pressing himself against you as his hardness makes your breath hitch.

You watch as he lowers his zipper, freeing his substantial cock and lightly stroking it as he presses the tip directly against your entrance.

“Austin,” you moan, struggling to breathe as he steadily guides himself into you inch by inch, the pressure so deep it has you gasping until finally you feel his pelvis press against yours.

Your lips part, but the words catch in your throat, because you’re sure he already knows—his cock is the biggest you’ve ever had.

The way he’s looking at you, the way his body is pressed into yours, the way his thumb circles your clit exactly where you need it the most—he knows.

His lips claim yours—deep, desperate—his hands gripping your thighs as he pulls you closer, pressing himself against you with every thrust.

You moan into his mouth, your body taking every inch as you cling to him, fingers threading through his sandy blonde hair, wrapped up in him, lost in how deep he can claim, not caring about anything outside of the moment.

His eyes darken, filled with something raw and unrestrained with every slow roll of his hips. He pulls your legs around his waist, pressing himself deeper, his mouth capturing yours in a kiss that’s all-consuming.

His lips move over your neck, down to your collarbone, each kiss leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His hands glide over your thighs, slowly pushing your knees further apart as his hips thrust between them, his movements drawing you into a pleasure you’ve never known until you’re core is throbbing as you moan breathless for him.

Your fingers clutch at his shoulders, pulling him back to you, your lips meeting his in a kiss that’s desperate. Your hands sliding in his hair, as he deepens his thrusts, his body pressing into yours firmly on his desk.

He pulls back his face just inches from yours, his breath mingling with your own as the heat between your bodies increases like a pulse you can’t escape.

“You’re such a good secretary,” he whispers, sliding his hands over your hips. “Always making sure I’m satisfied” he whispers, gripping you tightly as he thrusts with a measured strokes, holding you steady making you take every inch of his cock as he goes even faster.

You softly gasp, feeling the way his cock hits a depth never reached inside you, the way he moves with careful precision that drives you to the brink and beyond your head tilting back as the pleasure coils deep within you.

He watches you intently, his blue eyes dark with desire, his lips parting slightly as his breathing grows heavier.

“You take me so well,” he praises, his voice low and breathless as his hand slides between your bodies, circling your clit firmly.

You try to speak , but the way he moves makes it impossible—your breath catches, and all you can manage is a soft, helpless moan.

He leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to your neck. “You’re so good to me,” he whispers, his other hand slipping beneath your blouse, pulling at the sensitive peak of your nipple.

Your moans becomes unending, your heart pounding as all you can focus on is him. His touch, his thrusts, the way he makes you feel like he’s breaking you in the best way possible.

He pulls you closer, his lips brushing against yours with a tenderness that steals what little breath you have left.

“You’re worth everything,” he whispers, his voice low and raw. “Every risk I took… you’re worth it.”

Your eyes flutter shut as you savor the moment—the warmth of his body against yours, the way his thumb strokes softly along your clit as he kisses you.

His thrusts grow deeper, filling you completely, and your body clenches tightly around him, the pleasure rising so fast it feels impossible to hold back.

“Austin,” you gasp , your hands gripping his shoulders as you feel the the pleasure overtaking you.

His breathing becomes ragged as he feels you tightening around his cock, his thrusts growing more erratic. “You’re so perfect for me, baby—so perfect,” he whispers, his voice breaking with need.

His words send you spiraling, your release crashing over you in waves as he thrusts deep one final time, burying himself to the hilt.

You cling to him, moaning softly, your bodies trembling in sync as he fills you completely, the warmth of his come making you both shiver.

You rest against his shoulder, the office filled with nothing but the sound of your heavy breathing and the rhythmic pounding of your hearts.

Finally, you find your voice as you lay against him, rethinking his words. “What risk?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smiles softly, as he tilts your face up, his thumb tracing gentle circles along your jaw. “You give me everything before I even ask for it,” he says, his voice laced with affection. “I want you with me in every way.”

Your heart pounds at his words, and as you search his eyes you find only sincerity.

As a smile spreads across your lips he kisses you again, this time slower —deeper—sealing the promise between you both as you melt into him, knowing there’s no turning back.

The city lights outside blur in the reflection of the glass, but inside this office, there’s only him—the way he holds you and the way he makes you feel.

You know there will be repercussions, but right now, with his lips pressed to yours and his words echoing in your ears, you let yourself believe that this could last forever.

END 🏙️

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[prying-pandora666]

Rings of Power is Insidiously Sexist

And I’m tired of pretending none of us can see it.

If you enjoy the show, please don’t take this as an attack on you. All media has problematic elements and we all do the best we can in a messed up world. My ire is reserved strictly for the people making these “creative” choices.

The way the show treats Galadriel is misogynistic.

Turning the kind, matronly sage imbued with divine wisdom by the light of the two trees into a naive, selfish hothead who gets ship baited with both the villain AND her son-in-law for titillation is incredibly sexist.

They wouldn’t have had Elrond kiss his father-in-law to “save” him. Everyone would’ve rightfully been disgusted. So why is it okay to do this to Galadriel?

Elrond wouldn’t kiss Gil-Galad, or Celebrimbor, or his bff Durin to “save” them. We would all recognize this as sloppy OOC writing just meant to stir up shippers. So why is it acceptable to do to Galadriel? Being a female character is not an invitation to use her as fan service ship bait. Not once but TWICE.

The way the score swells and the kiss is deep and framed as romantic (even though he’s handing her something and didn’t need to shove himself on her like that at all!), despite the fact that Galadriel is married and elves are by nature monogamous (so much so that forcing yourself on them can even KILL them). As if everything about the narrative framing is subconsciously telling you to ignore Galadriel’s POV and the discomfort she would be feeling and be moved by how “meaningful” this kiss is. But also it’s a deception so don’t get mad! So incredibly transparent.

The fact that they also made her an arrogant idiot that fell for Sauron’s manipulations, when in Tolkien’s canon she is described as one of first to see through him, is also a telling choice. Especially when it would’ve made more sense to have Celebrimbor be the one manipulated and fooled.

So why have it be Galadriel? Why not do their weird ship-teasing bullshit between Annatar and Celebrimbor? At least it might serve the story then.

It’s because she is “female elf”, and therefore she has to be mean, violent, selfish, and stupid. But she isn’t allowed to be criticized either! That’s their idea of a “strong” female character.

So yeah. Personally I find that incredibly sexist.

So for that, I rate ROP a big old “cast it into the fire”.

[utterlyotterlyx]

The Fox and The Fawn

High Lord Eris x Rhys!Sister!Reader x Azriel

Part Three

Summary - After Azriel and Nesta return from their mission you find them being as watchful as ever, and it turns out that celebrations weren’t always destined to be joyous.

Warnings - angst, fluff, flirting, slight suggestive tones

Part One Part Two

Sunlight curled around your forearm, tugging you and willing you to step outside and bask in her glory.

Ignoring her, you again focused on the matter that held your attention.

“Say it with me, Nyx,” your hands were delicately placed under his arms, holding him in place on your lap. Nyx looked at you with wide eyes and blushed chubby cheeks, dark hair weeping from sleep, his little wings flapping behind him and small digits reaching to furl into your hair, “Auntie y/n is the most powerful.”

Nyx babbled incoherently and you shrugged, cuddling him into your chest and inhaling that smell that made your heart clench with want. It was so fresh, a perfect amalgamation of Rhys and Feyre but also something utterly pure and unique to him, “Close enough, I suppose.”

A certain type of ferocity had consumed you the moment Nyx had been born, there was no one that could guard him better than you. Perhaps that was why Rhys rarely cared when you would pick up the child and whisk him away in on one of your adventures, that being you’d walk him around the city and take him for ice cream all whilst trying (and failing) to ensure that the first thing to fall from his lips would be your name.

Sunlight speckled through the stained glass panes of the library, it was sometime around noon, and you had swooped Nyx from his cot that morning before Feyre or Rhys could realise it. No one would dare to meddle with your time with your nephew.

Three days had passed since Azriel had left you with nothing but a whisper of a kiss on your brow, it had been three days of silence, three days of Rhys acting as your shadow and you letting him believe that you didn't notice his intense gaze settled upon you whenever you entered the room. The Circle had been suspicious, whispering in corners and sparing you the odd sidelong glance before resuming their hushed bickering, even Feyre, who you believed wouldn't be one of those people, was also taking part.

It seemed as though Lucien was your only friend, he actively sought you out, he had noticed your reluctance and need to hide yourself away so distracted your mind by asking about Eris, about what you spoke of. Of course Lucien knew you wouldn't divulge any details, but seeing your eyes sparkle and a soft smile form on your lips was enough to make him believe that you at least had one good thing occupying your mind these days.

A sonnet of brisk air alerted you to another presence slipping through the library doors, Nyx perked up in your arms, and you knew instantly from that and the scent of night-kissed air that Rhys was stood somewhere behind you. Your nerves stood on end as he rounded where you both sat, casting his shadow over your forms, "You stole him again," Rhys' voice was cold and distant, but he cocked his head to the side and grinned at his son, placing his finger in Nyx's hand and shaking it gently.

"Is it so terrible of me to want to spend some time with my nephew?" Rhys hummed and reached for the child, you went to shield him from your brother but relented when Rhys' gaze set alight in warning and gave in, relaxing your grip and feeling that pained void when the wriggling child was snatched from you.

Rhys settled Nyx into his chest, resting his chin atop the crown of his head and looked down on you with his usual wariness, "We have been invited to the Day Court this evening. Helion has requested your presence."

Narrowing your eyes at him, you surveyed his face for any signs of deception, "What's the occasion?" Rhys turned his back to you, sweeping Nyx from your sight, muttering something about a birthday.

It was too odd. First Azriel and Nesta being sent away, the entire family being odd and secretive, then being beckoned to the Day Court? Something wasn't right, and you certainly did not want to spend your evening watching Helion beg Azriel and Cassian for some kind of soul-enlightening orgy.

Once Rhys had stepped out of the room, you threw up your shield and floated toward the desk, once again ignoring the sun beckoning you outside and finding an odd scrap of parchment to scribe upon, scratching your message out and letting it devour itself into ash and float away.

I need your opinion on something.

A minute passed and you spied an autumn-scented piece of cream tinged paper wedged beneath an old leather bound book.

Is that all you need from me?

Smirking, you replied with a matching amount of seductiveness. That was how your conversations had been going, light and always full of mischief, but Eris was always poised to listen to your words, he was always ready to help you if you even thought of asking him for it.

For now.

Tell me what's on your mind, Fawn.

Hesitating, your quill hovered over the paper as you debated whether or not to tell him what the past three days had been like without Azriel and Nesta. The hushed words and glares, your loneliness and desire to lock yourself away. Was it divulging Night Court secrets or just your own?

I feel out of place here. I feel like I'm being punished for helping you. Rhys sent Azriel and Nesta away, and the rest of them are avoiding me more than usual. Cassian hasn't invited me to training, Mor hasn't come to my rooms to gossip, even Rhys took Nyx from my arms only a few minutes ago. It's like I'm poison that they need to dispel from their lives and I just want to lock myself away and disappear.

Watching the clock, you counted down the seconds until another note found its way to you.

I know Rhys sent them away because I found them poking around my boarders the evening before last. And, you're not poison, Little Fawn, locking yourself away only means that they win, and you're far too important to let the infantile actions of your family diminish everything that you are. Don't forget that. No one controls you but you, y/n, the world is yours if you would only ask for it.

Would you give me the world if I asked for it?

I would burn the world to ash if you asked me to. There is nothing that I would not give you.

Heart fluttering in your chest, you slumped back into the comfort of the antique armchair that you had told Cassian off more times than not for using it as a stool for his feet.

Will you be there tonight? At the Day Court?

I will.

Will you find me?

Always.

The shield around you pulsated with force and you furrowed your brow at the shimmering ripples that swam across its surface. Dull thumps echoed within your bubble, and a muffled voice called out to you. Glancing down at the note in your fingers, you turned it into black mist that curled around your fingers and danced upward to the sky and lowered the guard.

You could have cried with relief. Azriel stood before you, still clad in his second skin, blue siphons glowing like he had entered just entered Velaris and had immediately sought you out before reporting to Rhys. Azriel knew what was more important.

"You're back," you breathed as you walked into his awaiting arms, arms that wrapped around your waist and fingers that raked through your hair with a hint of desperation.

Your heart seized in your chest, needing to feel at home and at peace. But it didn't. A lump formed in your throat and a pit opened in your stomach and pooled with unease.

Azriel pulled away from you, his hazel eyes scoured your face but they held something awoken in them, like he saw you differently. His fingers floated over the surface of your skin, up the inky bargain that encased your upper arm which matched his own and across your collarbone, but he didn't touch you there as though as if he were worried that you would mar his hands further.

You took a step back, "What's wrong?"

He'd found something on his travels, something that was making him look at you differently, in a way he had never looked at you, with fear, with sadness.

Azriel's brows etched together, his eyes flowing up and down your form, noticing something off about you. Your scent. The scent of Autumn, of Eris, lingered on your fingertips, the same fingers that were wrapped around his neck moments ago. You hid your hands behind your back.

"Nothing. I just wanted to see you," even his voice was laced with his deception, his shoulders went rigid like a putrid smell had entered his nose, and he visibly shivered, "I should go and talk to Rhys. I'll find you later?"

Feigning innocence, you called, "Was the mission alright, at least? Where did you end up going?"

Azriel turned back to you, lingering in the doorway before your portrait, "It was fine," he forced a tight lipped smile, it was almost as if he had forgotten how observant you were, and how well you knew him. Still, you kept your eyes full of that doe eyed wonder that threw him off and lured him right into your talons. If he was going to lie to you, then there was no harm in aiding your own agenda, "Rhys sent us to keep an eye on some happenings in Spring. Tamlin has been expanding his armies."

A lie. A blatant attempt of deception. One that didn't stick.

Anger bubbled within you, Azriel had never lied to you, your bond was supposed to be too special for those kind of games. Instead of allowing it to bubble over, you inhaled deeply and kept your hands folded behind your back, "Well, I'm glad you're home. I missed you."

The Shadowsinger relaxed his features and almost looked as though he wanted to move to you, to gather you up in his arms and protect you from whatever was clearly heading your way. But he didn't, instead, he spoke to you softly, "I missed you too, y/n," and disappeared from your view.

A feeling of impending pain, perhaps not physical, lodged itself deep within your soul, almost strong enough to steal the air from your lungs. Clasping you hand around the ledge of the large oak desk, you hunched over and attempted to fill your lungs with oxygen, tears prickled at the corners of your eyes and for the first time in your life, your own sanctuary was suffocating you.

Nesta had greeted you with the same apprehension as Azriel had, although, at least she had made it clear that she didn't want to.

Even the walls were watching you, craning their gaze to follow your figure through the house. The only safe space was your room, so that's where you were, nestled between the cushions and watching the candlelight flicker against the cream coated walls whilst Nesta paced about the space, showing you countless dresses on their hangers since you were making no move to look yourself.

Your friend was dressed in head-to-toe black, a form fitting garment with a long slit up the right side and a neckline so plunging that it left little to the imagination. Her coronet was tightly woven, and two thick strands curled around her jaw to frame her sharp features. Blood red lips, arched brows, eyes full of anticipation.

"You have to choose one, y/n."

Ignoring her command, you turned your head to her and she knew what you wanted to know before you even asked, "Are you going to lie to me too?"

Nesta froze, allowing the hanger to fall at her side along with the silver garment attached to it, "What do you want to know?"

"I want to know why Azriel lied to me about where you both went, and I want to know why all of you are suddenly treating me like a stranger," Nesta exhaled shakily, and it was the first time that you had truly seen her stoic demeanour perish before your eyes; she glanced about the room with worry, like she too could sense the house pressing its ear up against your door, "It's safe to speak. Not even the house can hear us."

The elder Archeron sister perched on the edge of your bed, noting your hunched over figure as you hugged your knees close to your chest, it was clear that your exclusion by everyone was making you feel lesser than. Nesta rested her hand atop the comforter, almost reaching for you, but also not at all; Nesta struggled to find the words, to tell you some form of truth without shattering you, "If it ever comes to it, you know I will protect you, don't you?"

"I used to believe that."

Nesta shuffled up the bed and spoke in a hushed tone, "Rhys has been trying to understand you, where all of your power came from and why he only has a fraction of it. He asked us to go Under The Mountain, to see if Amarantha did something else to you other than take your wings. Males would stop at nothing to harness the power that you have."

Under The Mountain was a hazy memory, one that you'd rather not remember at all. You rolled your shoulders, feeling the marred flesh rippling at the action, "Is that what Rhys wants to do? To harness my power? Is that why I've been so hidden?"

Nesta didn't want to answer, but she couldn't keep it from you, unlike Azriel, Nesta remembered your observance, how nothing got past those fire ringed violet orbs, "I don't know what he wants to do with what he finds," she told you honestly, her stoic hatred for him returning to her features, "I didn't go to aid him, y/n. I went so that I could find whatever he wants to know and give it to you. Protect you."

At least one of them was on your side, and you supposed it would have always been Nesta, Azriel was too loyal to the Night Court, and despite your bargain, he would always protect Velaris first and worry about you later.

"Did you find anything?"

Nesta sighed, "Azriel didn't," but she certainly had, "Not now. Now, you wear the most incredible thing you can find and we go to the Day Court and wear the masks that we have to in order to survive another day."

The dress in her fingers, still on its cushioned pearlescent hanger, was a shade of blue-grey that you rarely wore. The bodice was like armour, perfectly fitted and boned, crystals were embedded into the curve of the breastplate and trickled down the deep seated opening that only met just above the bellybutton, exposing the taut muscle and cleavage beneath. From the point where the fabric met at the lower abdomen, the skirt curved upward over the hips and each ridge of fabric acted as a branch, curving upward and cascading down the back, pooling on the floor. The skirt was frosted, diamonds coated the branches of the skirt and curled around the hem which trailed along the floor, and a long central slit sliced upward, enough to expose the legs you knew most males would crumble for, but also little enough to keep your dignity in tact.

It was a spectacular thing that your mother had made. Perhaps the most.

Nesta helped you into the piece, slithering it up your form and humming in appreciation about how well it fit you. The sleeveless garment was certainly made for you, and she secured a diamond necklace around your neck and rested her hands on your shoulders.

Loose curls bounced with every step, Nesta had braided two thick sections and pinned them upward, pulling the skin of your face backward, and had even gone as far as to bless your face in neutral shimmering cosmetics.

The room fell silent when you stepped into the living area, Cassian's once bellowing laughter turned to molten nothingness, Mor's quips dissipated, Rhys' loving words to Feyre who was entangled in his arms were ash in his mouth, even Azriel couldn't speak as his own eyes poured over you.

Paying little mind to the stares of your family, you turned your attention to Lucien who was stood in the corner leaning against a wooden beam with his arms folded over his chest, smirking, "Shall we? I'd hate to waste an outfit like this on people who couldn't even begin to appreciate it the way it deserves to be."

Lucien bit back his laugh and took your arm after a gentle nod from Elain who knew, and despised, how you were being treated. Under his breath Lucien muttered, "You're playing with fire, y/n."

Leading him from the house and onto the lawn, you turned your gaze upward to him, appreciating his beauty and the tied back hair that Elain had no doubt tailored to him, "Perhaps. But I won't be the one who gets burned."

The Day Court Palace had always had the ability to take your breath away, the home alone was enough to convince you that relocating would be a good idea. Maybe it was the white marble pillars so brilliantly white and tall that they kissed the sky, or maybe it was the cloudless skies that washed you in orange bliss the moment you appeared at the foot of the steps.

Even the breeze was welcoming, dancing around your arms and shoulders before moving onward. A weight had shifted within you, and you realised that it was because the Day Court had no reason to watch you like Velaris did, that for the first time in months you were actually free of eyes constantly watching you.

You didn't look back to see if everyone had landed alright when you began to ascend the steps, completely breaking protocol and sauntering upward to where you could hear music and laughter bubbling. Two familiar presences fell in step with you, Nesta and Lucien, the former to your left and the latter to your right, and you all ignored the claws scraping down the walls of your minds commanding you to return to your positions.

Music swirled around you as you paced down the hallway, being mindful of the multiple pairs of feet scuffling behind you until a hand wrapped around your wrist and tugged you back with force. Rhys loomed over you, eyes ablaze and snarl conformed to his lips, nostrils flaring with each breath, "What do you think you're doing?"

Nesta fell to your side, ready to take down the High Lord by any means necessary, Cassian was glaring at her and moved closer to Rhys, "I think that you're the one who should be answering that question, brother."

The air around you both grew heavy, it pulsated with dark energy that emitted from you both, but yours drowned his own and pierced him with its talons, making him feel weak and weary, "Remove your hand before I make you," and he did, his hand dropped from your wrist, "What a good little High Lord you are, Rhys. Father would be so proud of you."

Unspoken words flew between you, ones that told him that you knew what he was doing, that he was seeking to control you and always had, just as your father did.

Azriel had, unsurprisingly, moved to Rhys' other side, his gaze low and body ready to cut you down, he was blocking Feyre from view but she peeked over his shoulder just as Mor did with Cassian.

Power pulsated around you like a heartbeat, black began to move from your fingertips and tinge your veins with their ink from your fury, and Rhys' faltered at the sight of it, his eyes blew wide open and he found your darkened eyes zoning in on him, the violet had turned almost black and that ring of fire was blazing, "You need to calm down, y/n."

"Don't you dare," Nesta growled, placing her hands on your shoulders and turning you away, whispering to you and soothing you whilst Lucien stood up to Rhys.

Lucien's gaze was cold, his mechanical eye whirred as he took in the scene before him, of the High Lord flanked by his soldiers, needing to protect him from his own flesh and blood, "Tell me, Rhys," he found Rhys' gaze again, that constantly disapproving thing that followed you everywhere, "Tell me how what you're doing to her, to your own sister, is any different than what Tamlin did to Feyre."

Silence.

Bone dry silence consumed them, and when Lucien turned to see where you and Nesta had gone to, he only saw the train of your dress slip around the corner of the door toward the sound of freedom.

The room had turned to you as soon as you had entered with Nesta by your side, and not in a wary on edge way, in one of awe and adoration. Eris lingered by the dais, dressed in dark grey pants and white shirt, grey waistcoat and matching jacket which adorned silver swirls.

All anger evaporated from you as soon as his russet eyes found you, they washed over you with concern, no doubt seeing the blackened fingertips and sadness in your own orbs that had returned to their usual hue. He looked beautiful, more so than you remembered, more beautiful than the version of him that settled within your dreams.

You moved to the dais and greeted Helion, you had gone to bow to him, as custom when visiting other courts, but he didn't let you, "You bow for no one, especially when you look like that," he had always taken every opportunity to flirt with you, and he always held a certain resentment for Rhys for refusing your hand to him.

"Thank you for inviting us, I hope you've had a wonderful birthday," you folded his hands in your own and felt his healing touch worm its way into every negative pocket in your body, feeling lighter, more grounded.

The doors opened again, and you turned to see Rhys stalk up the centre of the hall closely followed by the rest of his Inner Circle. As if sensing your discomfort, Eris took a step up and offered a hand to you, and you gladly took it, stepping down from the foot of the dais to allow Rhys to have his moment with his friend, and not once did Cassian or Azriel's eyes move from you.

Lucien reached his brother and whispered into his ear, "I need to talk to you. Now," Eris frowned and peered to you, noting your fluttering eyelids and the unease that radiated from you and nodded, moving to follow Lucien who sent you a reassuring smile before they exited the hall.

If it weren't for Nesta stood beside you, you surely would have crumbled. She stared down her own mate and friends, head dipped low and staring at them through her brows, anger seethed from her and you knew she was going over the consequences of ending Rhys' existence right there and then in her mind. Nesta was Lady Death and you were the Queen of Darkness.

For the next hour you stuck to the walls of the hall, muttering polite hellos as you did your best to keep a safe distance between you and Rhys.

The architecture was stunning, white marble walls and golden chandeliers, pale wood round tables stacked with sparkling wine flutes and food, long benches full of revellers enjoying the festivities. Artwork delicately hung from the walls, glittering in the crystal tinted glow of the chandeliers, sparkling in the light as the skies grew dark beyond the open arches.

Helion's bellowing laughter floated about the room, and you wondered how a life in Day could have turned out for you. Though, you didn't have long to think of it before a hand curled around your forearm and gently pulled you from the room. Eris was in front of you, gingerly holding your arm in his hand as he led you down a flurry of corridors, peering down each one quickly to ensure it was safe to go there.

The High Lord led you all the way out to a private balcony, where you could hear the waves crashing against the rocks and the breeze flutter around the corner. The torchlight danced in the wind, flickering softly as he turned to you. Breathing in, you felt peace, that autumn pine and orange, wilting leaves and warm autumn rain.

Sighing, you felt tears pool in your vision, turning it slightly blurry as you tried to drink him in, "Lucien told me what happened. Are you alright?"

That singular question broke a little piece of you, you couldn't remember the last time some asked if you were alright and were actually invested in the answer. The concern in his eyes and brows made a soft tug pull at your soul, "I'm suffocating."

Eris waited for you to continue, keeping a distance he thought you'd be comfortable with between you, though all you wanted was to know what his arms around you would feel like, what it would feel like to have his lips pressed to the bare skin of your shoulder.

"They've been lying to me, all of them. Nesta confirmed it. Rhys doesn't understand why he only has a fraction of my power, he sent them Under The Mountain to see if Amarantha did other things to me when she held me hostage in the beginning. I feel like a prisoner in my own home, they're all scared of me, even Azriel," your voice broke, never in a million years, in your existence, did you ever think you'd voice that Azriel was scared of you.

"None of them want to touch me or speak to me. I can't do it anymore. I thought Rhys just wanted to protect me, but now I know it was never about that, it was about keeping me hidden and away from everyone else, he made me a prisoner and I didn't even know it."

Wrapping your arms around yourself, your tears flowed freely down your cheeks and you made no move to wipe them away. Eris took a step closer to you, his shadow waltzing with your own, "Can I touch you?"

It took you a moment, a moment of his russet eyes on you and fingers fidgeting at his side until you nodded softly and he raised his hand. His fingertips lightly dusted up your arms and neck, they curled your hair around them and grazed along your jaw, and you felt electric under his touch that spready across every single part of you. His breath was warm over your face and you took a moment to appreciate him, his godly-crafted cheekbones and jaw, eyes that told a million stories, the golden freckled skin and his curved lips.

"I'm not afraid of you, Little Fawn. Nothing about you scares me," his finger curled under your chin and angled your head upward, "All you need to do is say the words. You are the author of your own story. Tell me what you want."

Rhys had let you believe that you had free will, he had allowed you to be outspoken and poised, he had let you believe that you were nothing more than a scare tactic, and you were too enthralled with your so-called family to realise what he had done. There was nothing free about your life, you weren't allowed to leave Velaris without supervision and even such occasions were rare, you weren't called upon in battle until there was no other choice, you were a pawn to him, one that he had masterfully toyed with.

"I want to go to the Autumn Court. With you. I want to denounce my place in the Night Court and leave Velaris," the words felt like poison in your mouth but your soul was thankful for it, and the storm in your soul had already began to break with golden sunlight.

Eris nodded and took a step toward you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you into his chest, your hands were flat against his waistcoat that had once again matched your own attire perfectly, "Your wish is my command, Little Fawn," and then you both disappeared in a swirl of light, leaving nothing but the joint bliss of your scents behind and dancing away in the night-kissed breeze.

Author's Note

I hope you love this! x

Taglist

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[lumosou]

୨୧ — Beneath the Dungeon’s Shadows, Where Rivalry Softens to Heat. 𖦹 + ꕤ

ꕤ — Character(s) ; Slytherin!Harry J. Potter x Ravenclaw!Fem!Reader.

ꕤ — Synopsis + Wc ; A shared detention in the dungeons forces you and Slytherin’s Harry Potter to confront your simmering rivalry. But as the tension deepens, so does something unexpected—and far more dangerous. 1.7k.

ꕤ — Discretion ; Some kissing and banter, mostly silly and fluffy! Harry wants reader BADDD..

ꕤ — A/n ; hehe hi guys! I’m OBSESSED with slytherin!harry so naturally, I needed to make a fic with him, have fun reading <3

; masterlist.

Detention with Harry Potter was not how you’d planned to spend your evening. The dungeon air was damp and cold, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows across the rows of potion shelves you’d been tasked with scrubbing. It was miserable, thankless work, made worse by the fact that you weren’t alone.

“Do you always mutter when you’re annoyed, or is it just for my benefit?” Harry’s voice cut through the quiet, smug and smooth, as he rinsed a rag in the basin at the end of the aisle. You didn’t bother turning around. “Do you always talk just to hear yourself, or is it your way of coping with failure?”

There was a pause, and you couldn’t help but smirk to yourself. You’d hit a nerve. “Remind me who got us into this mess,” Harry said, his tone deceptively calm. “Oh, right—it was you, spilling your potion everywhere because you were too busy glaring at mine.”

You straightened, spinning on your heel to face him. He was leaning casually against the shelf, rag in hand, his green tie loosened and his hair even messier than usual. The faintest smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, and you hated how annoyingly good he looked under the dim dungeon light.

“You distracted me,” you snapped.

Harry raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Did I? Must’ve been doing something right, then.” You glared at him, your grip tightening around your own rag. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here we are.”

The two of you worked in tense silence for a while, the only sounds the faint drip of water from the basin and the occasional clang of glass vials. The shelves seemed endless, each one packed with dusty jars and unidentifiable ingredients, and your fingers were already sore from scrubbing.

“Honestly,” Harry said after a while, breaking the quiet again, “you could just admit you were impressed.” You frowned, glancing over your shoulder. “Impressed by what?”

“My potion,” he said simply, as if it were obvious. You let out a sharp laugh, shaking your head. “Don’t flatter yourself, Potter. It wasn’t that good.”

Harry straightened, stepping closer. “Snape seemed to think otherwise.” “Snape’s biased,” you shot back, turning to face him fully.

Harry tilted his head, studying you with a look that made your stomach twist. “Or maybe you just hate losing.” Your jaw clenched, but you didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, you turned back to the shelf, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn stain with renewed vigor.

“You know,” he continued, his voice softer now, “you don’t have to try so hard to beat me.” You froze, your hand stilling mid-scrub. Slowly, you turned to look at him. “Excuse me?”

Harry’s expression was unreadable, his green eyes steady as they met yours. “I’m just saying… You’re already brilliant. You don’t have to prove anything.” The words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” you asked finally, your voice quieter than you intended.

Harry shrugged, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Take it however you want.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but the words caught in your throat. The tension in the room had shifted, subtle but undeniable, and you suddenly felt very aware of how close he was standing.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and charged, until you finally turned back to the shelf. “Just keep scrubbing,” you muttered, your cheeks warm.

Harry didn’t say anything, but you could feel his gaze lingering for a moment longer before he returned to his own shelf.

For the next hour, the two of you worked side by side, the initial animosity softening into something quieter. There was still the occasional barb, still the playful glint in Harry’s eyes when he caught you glaring at him, but it felt different now. Less like rivalry and more like… understanding.

By the time you finished the last shelf, your hands were raw and your legs ached from standing, but the work was done. You leaned against the edge of the basin, wiping your hands on your robes, and let out a long breath.

“Well,” you said, glancing at Harry, “that was miserable.” He chuckled softly, running a hand through his hair. “Could’ve been worse.”

“How?”

“You could’ve been stuck here alone,” he said, his tone light but teasing. You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at your lips. “Don’t push your luck, Potter.”

Harry grinned, his green eyes bright with amusement. “Too late.”

As you gathered your things and prepared to leave, you felt the faintest pang of regret. Detention was over, and with it, the strange, unexpected connection that had formed between you. But as you reached the door, Harry’s voice stopped you.

“Hey.”

You turned, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

He hesitated for a moment, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “For what it’s worth… I don’t think you’re insufferable.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in his tone. “Oh,” you said softly, your chest tightening. “Well, you’re not as terrible as I thought, either.” A slow smile spread across Harry’s face, and for a moment, the dungeon felt a little less cold.

“See you tomorrow, then?” he said, his voice light but full of something unspoken.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

As you stepped into the corridor, your heart still racing, you couldn’t help but wonder if tomorrow would feel different.

Somehow, you already knew it would.

The next day, the tension between you and Harry felt different. Subtle, but there.

You caught him watching you during Potions, his green eyes flicking your way every time you adjusted the flame under your cauldron. You tried to ignore him, pouring all your focus into perfecting your Draught of Peace. And it worked—for a while.

Until Harry spoke.

“Need help with that?” he asked, his voice just loud enough to carry over the soft murmurs of the classroom. You looked up sharply, your ladle pausing mid-stir. “I’m perfectly capable, thanks.”

“I’m sure you are,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “But if you’re still scrubbing potion shelves next week, don’t say I didn’t offer.” You glared at him, but before you could respond, Snape’s voice cut through the room.

“Miss your own cauldron, Potter?”

Harry straightened, his smirk fading as Snape’s dark eyes narrowed on him.

“Five points from Slytherin for your inability to stay silent,” Snape said coldly. “Focus on your own work.”

Harry ducked his head, his cheeks faintly pink, and you couldn’t help the small spark of satisfaction that bloomed in your chest.

Later that evening, you found yourself in the library again, hoping for some peace and quiet to make up for the distractions of the day. But of course, peace was too much to ask for.

You’d barely settled into your seat when Harry appeared, his tie loosened and his bag slung over one shoulder. He didn’t say anything as he slid into the chair across from you, but the faint smile on his face said enough.

“Didn’t you get enough of me in detention?” you asked dryly, flipping open your notebook.

“Not even close,” he said, his voice light but teasing.

You sighed, your quill scratching against the parchment as you scribbled out a list of potion properties. “What do you want, Potter?”

Harry leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Maybe I just like your company.”

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered, but the words lacked bite. ‘’And yet, you haven’t hexed me yet,” he replied, grinning. You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corner of your mouth despite yourself.

Over the next few days, Harry seemed to appear wherever you were—at breakfast, in the library, even lingering in the corridor outside the Great Hall between classes.

At first, it was infuriating. His constant presence, his teasing remarks, the way his smirk seemed to soften into something almost fond when he caught you staring too long. But slowly, your frustration began to fade, replaced by something else.

Curiosity.

It wasn’t just the way he teased you, or the way his green eyes sparkled with amusement every time you rose to his bait. It was the quieter moments, too. The way he held the door open for you without a word, or the way he offered you a piece of chocolate during a late-night study session without expecting anything in return.

You hated how much you noticed him.

But you hated how much you liked it even more.

It was during another shared detention a week later that everything came to a head. This time, the two of you had been tasked with organizing Snape’s potion ingredients—a tedious, mind-numbing job that required sorting through dozens of dusty jars and vials.

“This is cruel and unusual punishment,” you muttered, brushing a layer of dust off a jar labeled Pickled Billywig Stingers.

Harry snorted, holding up a jar of slimy, unidentifiable roots. “Could be worse. He could’ve made us drink this stuff.”

You wrinkled your nose, but before you could reply, your foot slipped on a loose stone. You stumbled, nearly knocking over an entire shelf of glass jars, but Harry caught you, his hands steadying you before you could fall.

“Careful,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

Your heart was pounding, though you weren’t sure if it was from the near-miss or the way his hands lingered at your waist, warm and grounding. “Thanks,” you said quietly, your eyes meeting his.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The dungeon seemed to fade away, the dim light casting soft shadows across his face as his gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips. And then, as if drawn by some invisible force, he leaned in.

The kiss was tentative at first, his lips brushing yours so softly it was almost a question. But when you didn’t pull away—when you kissed him back—he deepened it, his hands tightening at your waist as he pulled you closer.

It was like everything else fell away. The rivalry, the teasing, the endless arguments—it all dissolved into the heat of his kiss, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the way his fingers curled against your hip like he couldn’t bear to let go.

When you finally pulled away, your forehead rested against his, your breath mingling in the small space between you.

“Well,” Harry said after a moment, his voice low and amused. “I guess detention isn’t all bad.” You laughed softly, your cheeks warm. “Don’t push your luck, Potter.”

But as his lips curved into a slow, genuine smile, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t mind his luck.

﹙@ 𝗹𝘂𝗺𝗼𝘀𝗼𝘂 ﹚

[someprettyname]

𝕷𝖊𝖆𝖑 & 𝕯𝖊𝖗𝖓

You mean the world to him, and he wouldn't hesitate in letting the world know. 

Characters : Isagi Yoichi

Contains : pro!isagi x childhood best friend!reader, no use of y/n if that helps, accidental/abrupt confession, pining except for you'll love it. No smut here but they're both aged up because that fits the story line. He basically kisses you in a full stadium, yes it's a hard launch fic. 

Moodboard : click here 

[ best viewed in dark mode ]

Silent anticipation buzzed through the loud cheers as you take your seat in the VIP stands, fingers fidgeting in your lap. You inhale deeply, eyes following him without a break as the whistle blows - marking the start of one of the most important match you know that he'll ever play. 

"Next match is the final." Your soft words echoed in the peacefully flowing air, fingers interlaced with his as you both walked back after his practice. The warm golden glow of the setting sun casting a shadow behind you.

"Yeah. It is." He replied softly, trying not to disturb the peace that your presence always bought him. 

You hum softly, eyes staring at a distance as you smile softly. "You'll win." You say as a matter of fact. So much that it takes even him aback. 

He chuckls softly, but of course he understands that feeling. He'd have said the same if he was in your place. "You have so much confidence in me huh?" His words dissipate in the air leaving behind an essence of gratitude, a smile playing at his lips as his thumb brush across your knuckles. 

You shake your head, finally turning to him. "I have a feeling. A premonition."

You tried telling yourself it was fine every time something went down in the match, but even so you couldn't really help the way your heart would sink. It wasn't rational at all, and that's annoying but heart wants what it wants. Isn't it? 

"Me?" You tilt your head, blinking as you look away. "I've been in love for years."

His heart skipped not one but a few beats. A few too many. A weird sense of relief but disappointment taking over him. "Years?" he repeated quietly, trying to process the information, wondering who it was you had been pining for all this time.

"But we're both young, so I'm waiting. Waiting till he and I are both successful and stable enough in our careers." You justify, knowing full well he wouldn't be able to take apart time when he's a part of something as time taking as blue lock. Not that you mind. You can wait for him your whole life, what's a few years anyways? It's almost selfish in a way. Scary even, because what if he doesn't feel the same? He's the one for you, but are you the one for him? 

Jealousy bubbled up in his chest as his fingers squeezed your skin. It was something he did that he didn't even realise, but you did. Of course you did. You always did. 

He tried to push those feelings aside and feigned indifference, even though his heart was racing. "I see...and who's the lucky guy?"

"I can't tell you now." Your calm voice echoes in his anxious curiosity, piercing a hot burning hopelessness through it. 

His skin crawls in frustration. "There's no way he's good enough for her." He thinks silently but doesn't dare utter a word about it.

"Why not? Afraid i'll judge him or something?"

"No. I know you won't." You say easily, with lot of trust and self belief, "It's just not the right time."

Your unwavering trust in him makes his heart squeeze in his chest, eyes scanning your expression for any signs of deception, but you'd always been a honest person, hadn't you? 

"Yeah, I guess you're right. But you'll tell me one day, right?"

You hum and smile softly, "Of course." Voice settling on oblivious ears. 

Who will tell him it's him that you've been in love with? 

He squeezed your hand lightly, a small comfort gesture. Was he trying to comfort himself or you, he didn't know. He tried to push down the feeling of jealousy that still lingered in his chest and feigned a smile back at you. 

"I'll hold you to that."

The crowd roars and the final whistle blows as the ball rolls down the net and within few seconds he had Hiori and others tackling him down. 

He had won. 

They had won. 

Japan had won the WORLD CUP. 

Yet. Yet all he could think of was you. Your words ringing in his ears, and this was not the first time that happened this evening. 

"But we're both young, so I'm waiting. Waiting till he and I are both successful and stable enough in our careers." 

He parts from his teammates, eyes scanning intently through the crowd at the VIP stands, craving to be met with yours. Not only was he a pro player now but also a world champion.

"...successful and stable enough in our careers..."  

The wait was over. You already had a high paying job and your career was blooming, now he had caught up too. If you were to confess, this would be the moment right? 

No. 

Scratch that. He has had enough of that. 

The moment you're in front of him HE will lay out his heart clear and bare for you to take care of. And if you happen to step on it he'd swallow that pill with a smile too, it's better than this untold distance between you both anyways. 

"Yoichi?" 

"Yeah?" Your eyes pierce through him when he looks at you, as if you were calculating every of his reaction. Not that he minds, you were like this some times. 

"Am I being stupid?"

He frowns, "What? No, of course not. Why would you think that? What happened?"

You hum looking away, "You know....he doesn't know someone's been in love with him for YEARS now. But I'm here, hoping he won't go find any other girl..." You look down, a hint of hurt in your expression as you sigh, "...but how is he ever supposed to know? Am I stupid for hoping so much?"

He felt a pang in his chest as he saw the hurt expression on your face. One thing he just can't tolerate is seeing you sad or hurt. It's as if his system just has a resistance to it. His hand find it's place on your shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly, "No, you're not stupid." He said firmly. And even if it is stupid - damn it, he wants someone to love him like that. Such deep faith in destinies. It makes him look at the flowers of trust you have made to bloom in your heart and mind with awe. Love is the most beautiful yet the most delicate flower isn't it? 

You are such a passionate lover, it's beautiful but oh does it hurt so much to think it might not be him that your heart aches for. 

Your eyes widen slightly as you turn to him almost immediately, his words catching your attention. No. You don't trust him with this one. He's just saying that to make you better isn't he? 

"Why not?"

He looked back at you, his gaze intense and sincere. "Because it takes courage to keep silent while carrying feelings this significant." He paused, trying to find the right words to express himself. Trying his best to not let the fear of the man you love so dearly not being him slip into his words. "You've been quietly waiting. Patiently hoping. That's not stupid. It's actually quite brave." He'd know afterall. He'd know better than anyone else. 

He's been doing the same thing afterall. 

Your expression softens, "Am I doing the right thing?"

Was he? 

He squeezes your shoulders again, "Sometimes, doing the right thing isn't always easy. Sometimes it requires patience. And belief." he paused again, his voice softening slightly. 

"Sometimes it requires just... faith." He breathes in, eyes closed as he takes in the fragrance of your trust flowers, imagining himself to be standing in the garden of your love. It's so beautiful that it almost makes him forget his fear, just like when you're in love. When you're in love all you care about is how your heart beats slightly more happily at the sight of them. When you're in love you don't care about being rejected and forgotten. When you're in love, all your focus goes into being in love. Maybe he's in love with the way you love, "Faith that your feelings will be returned one day."

You smile and look away, almost longingly "I've been loving him for so long. I think I'd be shattered if it's NOT reciprocated." You chuckle bitterly, your nightmares visibly slipping in your words. You don't know how he's so firm in his words... but they're somehow consoling. As if he's been through the same...but you were quick to push that doubt aside. 

"That's the risk we take when we love someone, isn't it? We open ourselves up to the possibility of heartbreak." he paused for a moment, his grip on your shoulder unconsciously tightening. "But... don't you think it's worth the risk?" 

You close yourself to pain, you close yourself to joy afterall. You were his joy and you were his pain. A pain he'd happily sink himself in. 

His mind reels back to your smile, the shine in your eyes, the way your voice sounds, the way your encouraging words echo in his head in the silence and loneliness of the night sometimes, helping him walk down to embrace of sleep, the way you hold him, the way you trust him, the way you console him...it's all so worth it. More than worth it, and he doesn't doubt that atleast. 

And you don't do either judging by the way you answer in a beat, "Oh. He's worth EVERYTHING."

He almost smiles but jealously was quick to spread it's thorns and constrict his heart. He was jealous that HE might not be the one you loved so deeply. He smiled, trying to hide the hint of envy in his eyes. "Looks like you've really fallen hard for this guy."

"Could be you." You glance at him, eyes gleaming playfully, a grin playing at your lips. Fuck. The words were out before you could control them. Shit. Why did you do that? To see his reaction? To keep the scope open, to let him know it could be him? Well, you did see doubt in his eyes just now but that's stupid. Who else would be the one for you? He had always been your type.

Always. 

Your words strike through his chest, spreading like cold ice through his whole body, mind racing a thousand miles an hour. He blinked a few times, trying to process what you had just said as his heart danced in his chest at the hope budding through his skin and bones like flowers. 

It could be him. 

He swallowed, trying to calm his racing heart. He had to remain composed and nonchalant, like he had been doing the whole conversation. He gave a light shrug, trying to hide the mixture of hope and fear in his eyes as he spoke. 

"Yeah, could be."

He frowns, scanning the crowd again. He knew you were here, you wished all the boys well before the match. Then why can't he find you? He looks down at his hand, warmth enveloping his skin at the memory of your touch, your voice echoing in his ears again. 

"Don't worry. Champions always win." He sighs, running the same hand through his hairs. You looked so assured, so sure just 2 hours ago, then where were you when he wanted to celebrate his biggest success with you? To have you in his arms? You weren't about to become his shadow now that he's in the face of glory after you've been his shield, standing firm in a protective stance through all his downs for so long were you? But before he could drown any further in the sea of questions and helpless uncertainty he feels a tap on his shoulder and the sight that adorns his eyes when he turns around makes his breathe hitch. 

You stood there panting, eyes shining the brightest he had even seen, face lit up with emotions making you look arguably the most gorgeous you'd ever been. Or maybe because he thinks so due to the bright glint of pride in your eyes. No. But that's not the only emotions dancing over your features right now. Determination, hope, anticipation, pride and happiness. He can see all of that. Joy, euphoria, ecstasy. 

The moment he turns to you, you instantly throw your arms around him, taking him in a strong, soul crushing hug. The force and speed even taking him aback, causing him to stumble backwards, but he recovers quick enough. 

You didn't care that he was all sweaty. You just were so SO happy. It's debatable, you were probably happier than him. You could technically feel happy hormones gushing through your veins. You didn't care if the cameras were on you both. All you cared about was that he had won.

"Have you ever been in love?" 

"Uh well..." Your abrupt question makes his heart skip a beat. He hadn't expected you to ask him that all of a sudden, but then again, you always had a way of surprising him. Didn't you? 

"Yeah. I have been."

You smile, a somber twinkle in your eyes, "What does it feel like?"

Your question was enough to hit him with a wave of strong emotions. He took a moment to collect his thoughts before speaking. "It's... intense. Like, really intense. Your heart starts racing anytime you're around that person but it's somehow very comforting. Your mind always drifts off to them, no matter what you're doing." He paused, trying to articulate his feelings. "And you just... feel this overwhelming need to be close to that person. All the time. Because...it feels...warm. And they just make you happy."

"Right?" Your smile tilts with your head, "Their presence is just so comforting."

He couldn't help but agree. your words hit uncomfortably close to home. "Yeah...Their presence. It just... feels like home." He could feel longingness gush through his veins as he thinks back to everytime his eyes would automatically search for you in a room full of people. Your eyes a glowing warmth and your smile a sense of security. As if everything would be fine if you were happy and smiling. Maybe the thing he loved the most about you was how absolutely breathtaking you looked everytime your smile reached your eyes, sparking them up with a twinkle. 

"You're smiling." You muse playfully, the same smiling he was thinking about playing at your lips when he looks up at you, slightly taken aback. "Seems like you've fallen pretty hard too huh?" 

For some reason, the fact that you might not be the one he loves wasn't as bothering. You were just happy that he was as deeply loving and caring as you thought he'd be. 

"Still in love?"

"Yeah... I still am." He paused, looking down for a moment. Silently cursing how his heart would become the quick beats to the melody of your voice everytime you spoke. Your words have had this effect on him for so long he has stopped questioning it at this point. 

He wanted to say more, but he was afraid.

Afraid of revealing too much and making a fool of himself. Bringing down the castle of patience you'd both built together. Maybe he WANTED to. He wanted to destroy everything distancing you from him even if it was a beautifully comfortable castle, but he forces a reminder on himself. 

"Just a few more days." He thinks silently, promising himself to lay down his whole world at your feet when he wins that final match for you. 

He took a deep breath and continued in a low, almost whispered tone. 

"In fact... I think I'm even more in love than I was before."

"You did it." You squeeze him tighter as his his hands slide along your waist, his face buried in your hair and mind focused on holding your close and savouring the feeling of your body against his as your smell invades his senses. Yes. This is perfect. "YOU DID IT! YOU DID IT! YOU DID- FUUUCKKK. I'M SO PROUD OF YOU, YO. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH."

And the world stops. 

He could feel the adrenaline in his blood turn ice cold at that. You....what? 

He pulled back slightly, looking down at you with an expression of awe and disbelief. "Did you just say... that you love me?"

You expressions falter slightly, your heart still beating out of your chest. You were in a frenzy - body high on emotions and adrenaline. You could barely think straight, any thoughts of your secret not being reciprocated thrown out of the window. But now that you see surprise etched on his expressions, doubts flood your system again. What if he doesn't...oh no.

"Is it a bad time?"

And before you could process what was happening you felt his lips crash on yours. Your eyes widen and your internal uproar at his touch was instantly mirrored by the crowd. But it barely took a second for the screams and cheers to die away as you found yourself settling into the kiss like the last piece of puzzle, fingers tangling in his hair as you deepen the kiss. 

Shivers run up both your spines and sparks fly the moment your lips touch, charging up the air around as he holds you tighter, kissing you with a fierce need. How long had he waited for this? His fingers would probably fail him if he were to count but oh, were you the most gorgeous being he had EVER laid his eyes on. And now you were his. 

His lips move against yours with a desperate need to convey and pour out every emotion his heart couldn't hold, because damn well it'd most definitely burst open if he tried keeping all these feelings inside. This is beyond perfect. 

This is well beyond perfect. 

Your head was swirling. You couldn't believe this was happening. Consequences be fucked. You are about to enjoy this to your whole. Every coherent thought, every worry leaves as you kiss him back equally passionately. He wasn't any better, mind clouded with feeling of your lips against his and you in his arms. His hands come up to cradle the back of your head as yours slide to his chest and nape and he deepened the kiss. 

He didn't want it to end, he never wanted it to end. He wanted to stay in this moment forever. But call it the protective instincts, his rational part kicks in reminding him of the cameras that must be on the two of you. He gives you one last slow kiss and you take the hint, pulling away. 

He pants, resting his forehead against yours, his chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. You love him. He loves you. You are his, he is yours. And there's nothing more he'd want. Nothing more. He'll die a happy man if he has you in his arms. That's just how much he'd yearned for you to be officially his. And now you were. He won 2 of the most important things he could have tonight. And right now he, without a doubt, was the HAPPIEST man on earth right now. 

You gasp for breathe, eyes still closed as you try and process everything. The way he holds you. The way he touches you. The fact that he was talking about you when he said he was in love. The whole world was watching you both. Fuck. AND he had won the World Cup. So much to process. So much. You almost felt dizzy, his protective embrace around you being the only thing which kept you grounded for now. 

Speechless. You were speechless. You didn't know what to say. There was so much to say yet nothing good enough. So you keep your eyes closed, savoring the moment.

"I love you, yoichi."

He smiles softly, hands reaching up to caress your cheek, his thumb tracing over your skin.

"I love you too. so much it hurts."

a/n : Hello lovely peoples. This is the first time I ever spent so much energy and effort in formatting a fic and making it look pretty. Am I down bad for him or am I down bad for him? Haters say I'm downbad for him, don't listen to them. I'm COMPLETELY normal about him. Yep.

I know hard launch is usually not the most realistic scenario with professional players, but a girl is allowed to dream 😔🎀

And if you see me screaming in the reblogs of my own fic....no you don't. <3

Tagging @zendersenders @sharkissm @thebestsetter @plsmarrymehioriyo because GASP can you believe it? I actually wrote i screamed about. Crazy.

[ dividers from cafekitsune ]

[wandascrush]

Please don’t say you love me

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female!Reader

Summary: Your new girlfriend has such a nice home, with so many secrets

Warnings: lies, death, deception, kissing, crying

A/N: A reupload!

The soft scent of lavender and vanilla on Wandas skin was intoxicating. You lied on top of her, legs intertwined and breasts touching one another as you woke her up with kisses. She giggled and touched your hips gently, you felt her let out a happy sigh as she flipped you over and nuzzled her face into the side of your neck. Your chest felt endlessly warm as you started your day with laughter. It was the first night you spent with Wanda, sleeping over in her bed, both comfortably naked, waking up together. Since you two had started dating three months ago, it had always been at your place, not that you minded. 

Her hot breath fanned your ear, “I gotta get ready for work baby. Do you wanna stay here until I get back?” You heard the hesitation in her voice, “mhm m’kay sounds good bear.” 

 Two months earlier

“Wanda, baby, how much honey did you put in this oatmeal?”  you sat on her lap, trying not to wince at the sugary-ness of

“Hmph, only about 6 tablespoons for your bowl why?”

“6 TABLESPOONS? YOU BEAR,” your laugh echoed around the room. 

Her eyes were wide as she looked at you with faux suprise, “I love honey what can I say? I guess I am a bear,” she chuckled and rested her chin on your arm. 

 “It’s okay, you’re my bear.”

End of memory

She kissed the top of your head before you felt the side of the bed dip and heard her light footsteps to the bathroom. You adored her. A few hours later you woke up again with a rumble in your stomach asking for food. You stretched and rubbed the sleep out of your eyes before  picking up your phone and reading a text from Wanda: 

I'll be home by 5, rest well sweetheart.

It was hard not to notice how meticulously clean Wanda's house was, couch pillows fluffed and in perfect corners, dishes and platters stacked in unison and color coordinated. Even her cereal boxes were stuck straight, organized from sweetest to least sweet. As new as her home was to you, something about it felt so familiar, so homely that you felt you'd lived here for years. The unfamiliarity of it all didn't scare you much, it excited you to build a new relationship from scratch. While you blindly rummaged through her cabinets looking for a morsel of food to eat, a voice boomed from above.

“Ms. L/N, may I assist you in finding a suitable meal for breakfast? I know cooking isn’t your strong suit.”

You spun around and your heart nearly leapt out of your chest. No one was there.

“H-hello? Who-where are you?”

“Ah my apologies, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Jarvis, an AI assigned to Ms. Maximoff by Mr. Stark. I help her with her domestic tasks and accompany any guests to make sure they are comfortable.”

You noticed whenever he spoke, the ceiling lights cast a light blue over the room. It was hard to get used to the fact that everything in Wandas home was high-tech, even her daily assistant. 

“Sure, thank you. It’s lovely to make your acquaintance Jarvis.” Without another word, the stove turned on by itself and the fridge opened up and pushed a carton of eggs into your hands. The fridge was practically telling you what to cook. You were awestruck.

A few hours later after watching a movie, doing some work, and even pestering Jarvis with question about himself, you got bored and decided to look around. You wandered through all the rooms, scanned through the books on the shelves, turning to go back to the couch when you accidentally knocked a vase off the tv stand. 

Instead of it breaking, it tilted on the edge of the mantle, resting like an open lid…huh. 

       Your eyes squinted closely when you noticed a small black button under the bottom of the vase. Press it or not, press it or not, you couldn’t decide. You didn’t want to break the trust between you and Wands, but she did tell you to make yourself at home. Then again, why would she have a hidden button…is there something she doesn’t want you to see?

“Press it,” Jarvis’ accented voice spoke above you.

“W-what?” 

“You should press it, Ms. L/N.” Huh. Your fingers tentatively reached for the black button. Click. The entire fireplace mantle and TV shifted, making screeching and mulling noises, until it disappeared into an open space in the side of the house. What was left behind the missing wall piece was a dark hallway, with one left corner turn.

Meanwhile, Wanda was busy at the Avengers compound, working on controlling her emotions with Bruce. He was more gentle with her than any scientist she’d ever met, she began to trust him.

“What’re you feeling now, when I show you these images?”

Her voice came out shaky, angry. “Take them away Bruce.” His eyes trailed down to Wanda’s glowing finger tips. “Control them Wanda, you can do this.” She took a deep breath and tried again, “I think we’re done for today.” After grabbing her bag and packing her files, she was on her way home to you, finally.

You gingerly walked through the hall, phone flashlight in hand as you turned the short corner. You felt a little silly expecting a big surprise or some crazy object, but all there was was a single locked door at the end of the turn, no handle.  It was steel white, glossy and smooth, with nothing to pry it open. It looked like someone painted it on or magically built it into the wall. Your stomach felt nervous all of a sudden and your heartbeat a little faster against your chest. “Jarvis, is there a key for this?” 

“It’s DNA activated Miss.” You were a mix of sad that you wouldn’t be able to open it, and relieved that you didn’t have to either. Before turning away you gave the door one last one over, tracing its cold white steel. And just like that, click, the door slid open. Holy. Shit.

“Fuck, that’s a lot of traffic,” Wanda tried calling you multiple times, but you didn’t answer. Maybe your phone was off. Either way it made her nervous, sickly nervous, for you to be alone exploring the house for too long. She couldn’t wait to put her bag down and fall asleep listening to your heartbeat again. But for now, she was stuck in a line of traffic longer than the line at the DMV.

It took a minute for your eyes to even process what they were seeing. You were staring at a ginormous, white warehouse looking room with lab tables and high tech screens. The ceiling had no less than 10 rows with slim, sleek cases, each holding what looked like a person. They all looked like life size dolls and as you stepped forward, legs heavier than titanium, you came to the haunting realization that they were all…you. Your eyes, your hair, your lips, even down to your birthmarks on every. single. body. They were displayed like mannequins. You were displayed like a mannequin.

Your chest burned, you were, you were, well you didn’t even know what you were to be honest. Your eyes were blurry and your face was hot, before you knew it you were on the floor. You could feel the coldness of the tile, the glow of the blue light above you. 

“Now you know, the truth. I’ve always tried to get you to come down here, but I never got the chance until now.” 

A car door slammed from outside. The sound of heels click clacking on the ground got closer.

“Jarvis,” your voice sounded like someone else’s, you couldn’t even feel the movements of your mouth, “what do you mean always?”

“Y/N? Baby I’m home!” she was still downstairs, her voice echoed off the high ceilings. What would happen when she found you? When she knew what Jarvis did? Her voice got closer, and closer, and closer.

“Thank you, Y/N.” 

“What?” What’s he thanking you for?

“You treated me like a friend, not just a robot. I thought I should return the-”

His voice cut out and the soft blue light in the ceiling stopped. Your girlfriend stood right behind you, a power box in her hand. Bye bye Jarvis. Wanda couldn’t stop thinking about the look on your face, the way she had never seen such a look on another human ever before.

“Hey, hey listen to me,” immediately she went to the floor and tried to hold your hands, console you. You practically flew back at her touch, instantly feeling rage and fear inside you at once. Those weren’t a good combination. 

“What is this, what is all of this! I need to know now Wanda, before I do something I’ll regret,” you held one of her work screwdrivers out toward her. Both of you knew you didn’t have the strength to hurt anyone right now, and that made you weak.

“Just listen, just listen,” she took a tentative step toward you, like caging in a wild animal. “This is crazy, I know”

“Yeah no fucking shit!  Who are these people, why-why do they all look like me. Explain.” Your mind started spinning out of control.

“Because they are you.”

“LIAR” You pushed her up against the wall, screwdriver against her neck. Air was hard to breathe, you were panting like a labored dog. And then you saw it. The pain in Wanda’s eyes, in her heart.

“I’m not lying. Th-these are all clones of you. Tony helped me design them if I swore to only use one, to help the kids mourn you but, I- I couldn’t stop.” Kids, you had kids? She was sobbing, shaking silently. So were you. 

“I just kept losing you, and whenever I traveled to another time, you were gone again. I lost you in every universe. I had to find a way to make you stay.”

It’s like your identity fell through the floor, your world burned up into flames, you weren’t even you anymore. You were some fucking lab experiment. The screwdriver fell to the floor with you, and in an instant your face was in Wandas warm, soft hands. The hands of a liar. The hands of the woman you thought loved. Your worst nightmare and your daydream.

If your body had a mind of its own, it was trying to get you killed. Without thinking your hand met her cheek, slapping harder than you’d ever hit anyone, or anything, before. Shit.

“You ungrateful bitch. Do you know what I’ve done for you?” She pushed you onto your back, your head hit the marble floor with a smack. “How I had to make you fall in love with me over and over. How I had to watch you die in every universe?,” you couldn’t tell who’s tears were who’s on your cheek, hers and yours mixed together.

“Baby,” she lied her soft brown hair on your chest. You didn’t move.

“What number am I, Wanda? How many more….of me died.”

“I did this all because I-”

”Please don’t say you love me.”

“11. You’re version 11.”

There had been 11 more before you, 11 more that had had the same life, same face, same family, same personality. If you cut yourself would you even bleed? But what you didn’t know was that Wanda had been responsible for 6 of your deaths. She never forgave herself. 

Tenderly, her hands held the back of your hand as she pressed her lips to yours. You closed your eyes for a second.

The last thing you heard was Wandas voice breaking,

“Version 11, shut down.”

[librababe99]

Kinktober Day Six: Erik Lensherr

Erik Lensherr x Female Reader x Charles Xavier | Threesome |

Tags: MDNI, 18+ ONLY, SMUT, Threesome, Oral (M receiving), anal, p in v, cherik if you squint...

Summary: A lavish gala is being held at the x-mansion and you happen to find yourself ensnared by Erik’s possessive touch and Charle’s irresistible charm. 

wc: 2.6K

A/N: I have a feeling this will make up for day five...I think I got my groove back...enjoy!

| Day Five | | Kinktober Masterlist | | Day Seven |

The cool evening breeze kissed your bare skin as you stepped out of the car, Erik's strong hand resting at the small of your back, guiding you toward the entrance of Charles Xavier's grand estate. The mansion loomed ahead, glowing under the light of countless chandeliers, casting a warm, inviting glow into the night. This wasn't the first gala you'd attended, but tonight felt different—more charged, more intimate.

Erik's presence was grounding, yet electric. His usual intense, brooding demeanor seemed even sharper tonight, though there was a quiet anticipation beneath the surface. His gray-blue eyes swept over the guests filtering in, his posture relaxed but his grip on your waist firm, possessive.

"You look stunning tonight," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. His voice was low, a smooth rumble that sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

You smiled, feeling the heat of his body against yours as you leaned in just slightly. "You say that every time we go out, Erik."

His lips curved into a knowing smirk. "And yet, it’s true every time."

Inside, the gala was in full swing, the air thick with the sound of glasses clinking and the hum of polite conversation. The soft strains of classical music played in the background, though it felt distant compared to the intensity of Erik’s presence beside you. You scanned the room, your eyes landing on Charles almost immediately—his tall, imposing figure standing near the center of the grand hall, engaging in lively conversation with a group of elites. He looked regal, in a perfectly tailored suit, his sharp jawline and warm brown eyes catching the light.

He saw you first, and his face lit up, a charming smile spreading across his lips. As you and Erik approached, Charles moved through the crowd with an effortless grace, his steps confident, his presence commanding.

"Erik," Charles greeted with that familiar, easy charm, his gaze sliding to you, lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. "And you must be the stunning companion Erik has been keeping from me."

The compliment sent a ripple of warmth through you, but it was the way Charles looked at you that made your pulse quicken. There was something beneath his usual friendly expression, a hint of something darker, something curious.

Charles extended his hand, and when you placed yours in his, his grip was firm but gentle, his thumb brushing the back of your hand in a way that felt far more intimate than it should have. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Erik’s hand never left your back, the touch of his fingers grazing your skin through the fabric of your dress. He smirked at Charles’ words, though there was a possessive edge to his expression, something territorial. "Charles and I go way back," Erik said, his voice deceptively casual. "It was only a matter of time before you two met."

Charles' eyes flicked to Erik, a silent conversation passing between them. It was something unspoken yet undeniable—a push and pull, a magnetic tension that seemed to ripple between them, one you felt yourself getting caught in.

Drinks were placed in your hands, the three of you retreating to a more secluded corner of the room as the conversation flowed. Charles was every bit the gracious host, his smooth voice drawing you in with every word, his attention on you so sharp it made you feel exposed and intrigued all at once. Erik stood beside you, his hand never far from your body, his gaze darker, more intense as the night wore on.

The wine flowed freely, loosening your thoughts, and soon the conversation took a deeper turn. What started as polite banter evolved into discussions of power and potential, of the complexities of desire. Erik’s fingers traced absent patterns on your skin, the heat of his touch grounding you while Charles’ words seemed to slip beneath your defenses, each syllable a tantalizing promise.

"You’ve always held back, haven’t you?" Charles’ voice was lower now, quieter, as though the question was meant for you alone. His eyes locked with yours, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. "What would it feel like to let go?"

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of both their gazes on you, Charles’ question hanging heavy in the air. Erik’s hand slid down to your hip, his fingers squeezing just enough to remind you of his presence, of the fact that he was right there, watching.

"Charles has a way of uncovering things," Erik murmured against your ear, his lips grazing your skin, sending a jolt of heat down your spine. "Desires you didn’t even know were there."

Your breath hitched at the implication, your body suddenly hyper aware of how close they both were. You were standing between them now, Charles leaning in just slightly, his hand resting on the back of the velvet sofa, his chest brushing your arm. Erik stood behind you, his mouth near your neck, his scent—dark, musky—wrapping around you, making your head spin.

"And is that what you want?" you asked, your voice coming out softer, breathier than you intended.

Erik’s hand slid around your waist, pulling you back against him, his lips brushing your earlobe. "I want to see what happens when you stop holding back."

The fire in Charles’ eyes flickered darker as he stepped even closer, his hand now resting on your lower back, just beside Erik’s. "We both do," Charles whispered, his voice a sultry invitation that sent heat pooling low in your belly. "Let us show you."

The moment felt suspended in time, thick with tension, desire, and unspoken promises. You could feel the heat radiating from both of them, their bodies so close to yours that it felt like you were drowning in the sensation. Erik’s fingers traced slow, lazy circles on your hip, his breath hot against your neck. Charles’ presence was equally intoxicating—his hand sliding around to your waist, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin just above the line of your dress, the lightest touch that still made your knees weak.

You exhaled a shaky breath, your body already responding to the proximity of their touch, to the sensual rhythm building between the three of you. Your lips parted, anticipation swirling in your chest as you glanced between them, feeling the pull of both men, their energy feeding off each other and heightening your every sense.

Erik pressed his lips against the curve of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that made your breath catch. "You’re with us now," he murmured, his voice a low growl that sent a ripple of desire straight through you. "And we’re not letting go."

Charles, still in front of you, tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into a slow, wicked smile as his hand slid further up your waist, brushing the underside of your breast. His voice dropped, smooth and commanding. "Let us take care of you."

The heat between you all was unbearable now, a fire burning just beneath the surface of your skin. Erik’s hands roamed lower, pulling you against him as his mouth moved along your neck, lips trailing fire down to your shoulder. At the same time, Charles' hand slid up to cup your jaw, his fingers grazing your lips before he leaned in, his breath fanning over your mouth.

Your heart raced as Charles whispered, his lips a breath away from yours. "Let go. Feel everything."

And then his mouth was on yours—soft at first, then more insistent, his kiss igniting something deep within you. Erik’s lips were at your throat, his hands guiding you, molding you to him as Charles deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring yours with a languid, sensual rhythm.

The two of them moved in sync, surrounding you, pulling you into their orbit, the world outside disappearing as you surrendered to the heat of their touch, the intensity of their desire.

The heat between your bodies felt unbearable now, an intensity that blurred the edges of everything except the sensations Erik and Charles were creating within you. Charles’ mouth was insistent on yours, his kiss deepening as his hand slid down the curve of your waist, fingers brushing the hem of your dress, teasing. Erik’s lips trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin at the base of your throat, sending shivers coursing through your body.

You were caught between them—Charles’ possessive kiss, Erik’s hungry touch. The air around you thickened, charged with anticipation, every brush of their hands leaving fire in its wake.

Erik’s hands found the zipper of your dress, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “You’ll look even better out of this.”

With deliberate slowness, he pulled the zipper down, the cool air kissing your skin as the fabric slipped from your shoulders. His hands were rough, commanding as they slid along your bare back, pulling the dress down until it pooled at your feet. You gasped into Charles’ mouth, feeling exposed, vulnerable, but also electrified by the way they both looked at you—as if you were something they had been waiting for all night.

Charles’ lips curved into a wicked smile as he pulled back, his eyes dark with lust as he took in the sight of you standing between them, your body half-exposed, chest heaving with every breath. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice like a velvet caress. “More than I imagined.”

Erik stepped closer behind you, his chest pressed firmly against your back, his hands sliding around to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your already hardening nipples. The sensation made you arch into him, a soft moan escaping your lips. His mouth returned to your neck, kissing and biting along your skin as his hands explored your body, teasing, tormenting.

“Look at how she responds,” Erik growled, his voice low, filled with a dangerous edge of control. “Like she was made for us.”

Charles’ eyes darkened even further, his own desire simmering beneath the surface as he watched the way your body moved under Erik’s touch. He leaned in again, his lips brushing yours, teasing, before kissing you again, more demanding this time. His hands slid down your sides, tracing the curves of your body, his fingertips dancing over the tops of your thighs.

You were trapped in the fire between them—Erik’s roughness, Charles’ calculated seduction, the contrast making your head spin. Your mind raced, but your body surrendered, giving in to every touch, every kiss, every heated breath. The pleasure was building, coiling tight in your core, threatening to spill over as their hands roamed freely over your skin.

Erik’s grip tightened around your breasts, squeezing gently before one hand slid down between your legs, teasing the already growing heat there. His fingers brushed against you, barely touching, just enough to make you gasp in anticipation. “So wet,” he growled, his lips against your ear, voice dripping with satisfaction.

Charles’ lips left yours, his mouth moving down to your collarbone, trailing kisses lower, across your chest, his tongue flicking over one of your nipples before he took it into his mouth. The sharpness of the sensation sent a surge of pleasure through you, your hips instinctively pressing back into Erik’s growing hardness, craving more of the delicious friction.

Your mind was hazy, lost in the sensations flooding through you. Charles’ mouth moved from one breast to the other, his hands gripping your hips, holding you in place as Erik’s fingers continued their slow, torturous exploration between your legs, never quite giving you what you desperately craved.

“Tell us what you want,” Charles murmured against your skin, his voice vibrating through you, deep and commanding.

“Please,” you breathed, not even entirely sure what you were begging for, but needing more, needing them to push you past the edge they were keeping you on.

Erik chuckled softly, the sound low and dark as his fingers finally pressed harder, slipping between your folds, finding the sensitive spot that made you gasp sharply. “Is this what you want?” he asked, his breath hot against your ear, his voice filled with dangerous satisfaction.

You nodded, your breath coming in shallow gasps, your body trembling with need.

“Not enough,” Charles murmured against your chest, his teeth grazing your nipple before he bit down gently, sending another jolt of pleasure through you. “We need to hear you.”

“Tell us,” Erik growled, his fingers teasing you, keeping you on the edge of release but never letting you tip over.

 “I want you both.” you gasped, your voice breaking with desperation.

The words seemed to ignite something in both of them. Charles pulled back, his hands sliding down to the waistband of his trousers, his gaze locked on yours, full of lust and something even deeper. Erik’s fingers pressed harder, slipping inside you now, filling you, stretching you in a way that made your body hum with pleasure.

Charles undid his pants, his eyes never leaving yours as he freed himself, his cock making your mouth water in anticipation. He moved toward you again, pulling you down onto the plush sofa, his body hovering over yours as Erik stepped back for a moment, his hands moving to undo his own pants.

Charles leaned down, his mouth capturing yours in a heated kiss as he positioned himself between your legs, the head of his cock brushing against your slick folds, teasing you, making you gasp against his mouth. “Are you ready?” he whispered, his lips brushing yours, his voice thick with desire.

You nodded, your body trembling with need.

With one smooth thrust, Charles slid inside you, filling you completely, his cock stretching you in a way that felt perfect, almost too much but exactly what you needed. You moaned loudly, your hands gripping his shoulders as he began to move, slow and deliberate, each thrust sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

Behind you, Erik knelt on the sofa, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you back slightly to meet each of Charles’ thrusts. His cock pressed against your ass, teasing, and you felt a shiver of anticipation at the thought of both of them filling you, overwhelming you.

“Let me have her,” Erik growled, his hands squeezing your hips hard enough to leave marks. Charles smirked down at you, his eyes dark with desire as he pulled out, allowing Erik to position you on all fours, his body pressing against yours from behind.

Erik didn’t waste any time. With one rough thrust, he filled you completely, his cock thicker, harder than Charles’, the sensation making you cry out in pleasure as he took you, his hips slamming into yours with a force that left you breathless.

Charles knelt in front of you, his cock still hard, glistening with your wetness. He cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your lips before he pressed the tip of his cock against them, a silent invitation. You opened your mouth eagerly, taking him in as Erik continued to fuck you from behind, each thrust pushing you further toward the edge.

The sensation of both of them overwhelmed you, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain, but it was exactly what you needed. You moaned around Charles’ cock, your body trembling as Erik’s rough pace quickened, his growls filling the room as he took you harder, faster, his hands gripping your hips with bruising force.

Your mind blurred, lost in the heat of the moment, in the way they claimed you, body and soul. You were theirs now, caught between them, and there was no escape. And you didn’t want one.

“Come for us,” Charles commanded, his voice smooth and dark as he thrust into your mouth. “Now.”

The order, the intensity of it all, sent you spiraling. You cried out, the orgasm hitting you like a wave, crashing through you, leaving you trembling and gasping as Erik continued to thrust into you, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you were shaking, spent, and completely theirs.

Taglist: @comicbookslut @lilah1020 @writingaftermidnight @nyxineiros @chaoticweirdogeek @5soscrack @dindjarins04 @superstar-lover863-blog @Therealnekomari @iloved1lfs0

[fangdokja]

“This isn’t an interrogation. It’s a love story—you just don’t know it yet.”

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured: A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Criminal Prosecutor x Fem. Reader

♡ Oneshot. #1

♡ Word Count. 844

♡ TW. dom + top yandere, non-con, possessiveness, psychological manipulation and conditioning, suggestive themes, fear play, emotional manipulation and abuse, hints at rough play and sex, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and/or touching, forced relationship, BDSM, manipulation of circumstances

The room is cold. Not the kind of cold that bites your skin, but the kind that seeps into your bones, into the marrow. The sterile fluorescence overhead casts you in an unforgiving light, illuminating every micro-expression, every tremor. He watches you from the other side of the table, his imposing frame seated with unnerving composure. There is no sound except for the faint hum of the light and the deliberate scrape of his knuckles against his jaw as he leans in closer.

“You’re lying,” he says, his voice low, a sharp contrast to the suffocating silence of the interrogation room. His lips curl into a slight smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Those eyes—black, sharp, abyssal—cut through you like a scalpel, slicing you open, layer by trembling layer. He knows. God, you can feel it. He knows everything.

You swallow hard, your throat dry. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you manage to whisper, but the words sound flimsy, pathetic, even to your own ears.

“Hmm.” He tilts his head, almost amused by the pathetic defense you’ve mustered. He doesn’t need to say it—your guilt is painted across your face. His tongue clicks against his teeth, a sound that makes your stomach twist with dread. He leans forward, the movement impossibly smooth for a man his size. His presence is overwhelming, predatory. The tailored lines of his suit strain against the broad expanse of his chest, his muscled forearms flexing as he rests his hands flat on the table.

“You’re a clever girl,” he says, his voice deceptively soft, like velvet over a blade. “But cleverness can be extremely… exhausting, don’t you think?” His smile grows, sharp and cruel. “You’ve spent days trying to outmaneuver me. Lying. Denying. Running.”

Your hands are bound to the chair. Leather straps dig into your wrists, biting into the flesh. You’d struggled at first—so much so that the skin had broken, and now blood seeps slowly into the restraints, staining them a deep crimson. You hadn’t even noticed when he’d strapped you down. He’d been so methodical, so careful, making it feel like a lover’s caress rather than an act of restraint.

But the way he watches you now, the hunger in his gaze—it isn’t love. It’s hunger. Pure, unadulterated hunger.

“I now have all the necessary evidence, you know.” He pulls an object from his pocket—a photograph, crumpled, bloodstained. He places it on the table in front of you with a deliberate slowness, like he’s savoring every second of your growing terror. It’s your face in the photo, your hands stained with blood.

“No…” you choke, shaking your head. Your breath catches in your throat, and the straps dig deeper as you instinctively try to pull away.

“Oh, yes.” His tone is mocking, his expression one of predatory glee. “I’ve been watching you for months. Following you. Piecing together every step, every breath, every plan, every misstep. Do you want to know what I believe?”

He doesn’t wait for you to answer.

“I believe you wanted to get caught.” He stands now, the sheer height of him looming over you. He walks behind you, his presence an all-encompassing weight pressing against the back of your skull. You can’t directly see him, but you clearly can feel him. His breath against your neck. The heat radiating off his body.

“You left just enough evidence,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. His voice drops, taking on a guttural tone that sends shivers down your spine. “You wanted someone to stop you. To own you.”

“I didn’t—”

“Shh.” His fingers brush against your cheek, wiping away a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen. “Do you think you’re in control here?” He chuckles softly, a deep, baritone sound that reverberates through the suffocating room. “Poor thing. You’ve never been in control. Not since the moment you walked into my courtroom.”

His hands, large and calloused, clamp down on your shoulders, forcing you to still. The pressure is unbearable, a warning of the strength he could so easily use against you.

“I’ve already decided your sentence,” he whispers, his voice dripping with sadistic satisfaction. “And it has nothing to do with prison bars and sentences.”

His harsh grip tightens, his fingers digging deeply into your flesh. You cry out, but it only seems to please him, his lips curling into a wicked smile. “You’ll stay here, with me. Forever. Every day, every moment, under my watchful eye.”

You shake your head, your breaths coming in shallow, panicked gasps. “You can’t—”

“Oh, but I can.” He presses his lips against your temple, a mockery of affection and tenderness. “You’re mine now. Body, mind, soul. I’ll break you, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left but me inside you.”

The realization dawns slowly, painfully, that there is no escape. The man before you isn’t human—not in the way others are. He’s something far darker, far more twisted. And he has you exactly where he wants you to be.

[verstappensrealwife]

Beyond a Contract - Max Verstappen x Reader

[max verstappen masterlist / f1 masterlist]

ʚɞ in which... max's pr relationship becomes real ʚɞ fluff ⋆⭒˚.⋆ 1500 words ʚɞ warnings: kissing

-୨♡୧-

In the glittering world of Formula 1, where speed and glamour collide, a rumour swirls like exhaust fumes on the track: you, a rising star in journalism, are tasked with a mission unimaginable—fake dating one of the sport's most renowned drivers, Max Verstappen.

As the paddock buzzes with speculation and cameras flash with every calculated move, you find yourself thrust into a whirlwind of luxury suites and champagne-soaked celebrations, all while navigating the complexities of a relationship that exists only for the public eye.

But beneath the dazzling facade lies a tangled web of secrets and desires, as you and Max struggle to maintain the charade while grappling with the undeniable chemistry that sparks between you. With each staged photo-op and stolen moment, the lines between reality and fiction blur, leaving you wondering if there's more to this fake romance than meets the eye.

From the moment the charade began, you had no idea how intricate the performance would become. Every smile, every touch, meticulously orchestrated for the cameras, yet somehow, amidst the staged romance, genuine emotions began to bloom.

As you embarked on this journey of deception with him, the lines between fiction and reality blurred, and you found yourself drawn to him in ways you never anticipated. His charm, his wit, his passion for the sport—all of it fueled the flames of desire within you, until it became impossible to deny the burgeoning feelings blossoming beneath the facade.

With each stolen glance and whispered conversation, the facade began to crumble, revealing the raw, unfiltered connection between you. Despite the world watching your every move, you couldn't ignore the magnetic pull drawing you closer to Max, igniting a love that transcended the boundaries of the charade.

In the midst of the staged romance, amidst the glare of the spotlight, you discovered the unexpected beauty of falling for someone in the most unlikely of circumstances. And as the facade fell away, leaving only the truth of your love behind, you realised that sometimes, the most genuine connections are forged in the most extraordinary of circumstances.

As the clock struck 8 pm, the stage was set for the first PR stunt—a seemingly intimate dinner with Max Verstappen. Through the large panes of glass at the front of the building, cameras captured the scene, casting a soft, romantic glow over the dimly lit restaurant.

In the flickering candlelight, you and Max were caught in a moment of laughter, the genuine joy evident in the curve of your smiles. Despite the orchestrated nature of the evening, there was an undeniable chemistry between you, an electricity that crackled in the air.

Max couldn't tear his gaze away from you, captivated by your every gesture and expression. From the sparkle in your eyes to the way your hair fell in soft waves around your face, he found himself drawn to every inch of you. It was as if time stood still as he savoured the sight of you, relishing in the fantasy of having you by his side, even if only for show.

As the evening unfolded, he found himself lost in the illusion of your fake romance, unable to resist the pull of his growing admiration for you. And though he knew it was all a charade, a part of him couldn't help but wish that, just maybe, there was a hint of truth hidden beneath the facade.

The air crackled with tension as Max's proposition of carrying on the date in his hotel hung between you, his gaze unwavering as he awaited your response. Despite the contractual nature of your arrangement, there was a palpable undercurrent of something more—an unspoken desire that simmered beneath the surface.

Your heart raced as you considered his offer, the allure of the unknown tempting you to abandon caution and dive headfirst into the depths of possibility. Yet, lingering doubts tugged at the edges of your mind, reminding you of the boundaries you had agreed upon.

"Our contract doesn't say that's necessary," you replied softly, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

Max's shrug belied the intensity in his eyes as he leaned in closer, his voice low and husky. "I don't mind," he murmured, his words laced with a vulnerability that mirrored your own. "I think you can feel something more than this facade too..."

With his confession hanging in the air, the lines between reality and fiction blurred, leaving you to grapple with the weight of your mutual attraction. And as the tension between you reached a fever pitch, you realised that perhaps, just perhaps, there was more to this fake romance than either of you had dared to imagine.

With a nervous nod, you made a split-second decision to seize the opportunity presented by Max's invitation. Hastily settling the bill, you dashed out of the establishment, your heart pounding in your chest as you embarked on this unexpected turn of events.

As you navigated the bustling streets, your mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions. What had started as a simple contractual agreement had now morphed into something entirely different—a real, genuine date with Max Verstappen, the famous Formula 1 driver who had captured your attention in more ways than one.

Despite the nerves that threatened to overwhelm you, there was a flicker of excitement coursing through your veins. This was uncharted territory, a leap into the unknown, and yet, there was a sense of exhilaration in the air as you ventured into the next chapter of your evening with Max.

As you arrived at the hotel, a nervous energy crackled in the air between you and Max, the weight of the evening's events hanging heavy in the space between heartbeats. The grand facade of the building loomed before you, a silent witness to the unfolding drama of your unexpected rendezvous.

With each step toward the entrance, the anticipation built, a silent crescendo of anticipation and uncertainty. What lay beyond the threshold was a mystery—a realm where the confines of reality blurred, and the boundaries of your fabricated romance were tested.

As the automatic doors slid open, you stepped into the opulent lobby, the soft glow of chandeliers casting a warm, inviting light over the marble floors. Max's hand brushed against yours, a subtle gesture that sent a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins, igniting a spark of anticipation in the depths of your soul.

As the elevator ascended, the tension between you and Max reached a fever pitch, the anticipation crackling in the air like electricity. With each passing floor, the space between you seemed to shrink, until you were practically pressed against each other, the heat of his body searing through the fabric of your clothes.

With a subtle nudge, Max drew impossibly closer, his presence overwhelming yet intoxicating. You found yourself lost in the depths of his gaze, your breath catching in your throat as his lips descended upon yours with a fervent urgency.

The kiss was electric, igniting a fire within you that burned hotter with each passing second. Your heart raced, pounding against your chest as you melted into his embrace, losing yourself in the dizzying whirlwind of sensation.

But as quickly as it had begun, the moment was shattered by the ding of the elevator, signalling your arrival at Max's floor. With a sense of urgency, he dragged you out of the confines of the elevator, practically running to his room with a single-minded determination that left you breathless and exhilarated.

As you crossed the threshold into his room, the door closing behind you with a soft click, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you in a cocoon of intimacy and desire. And in that fleeting moment, as you stood on the precipice of the unknown, you knew that whatever lay ahead, you were ready to dive headfirst into the depths of passion with Max by your side.

In the soft glow of the hotel room, surrounded by the hush of whispered confessions and the warmth of shared embraces, Max and you found yourselves teetering on the edge of something extraordinary. With each passing moment, the boundaries of your contractual agreement faded into insignificance, overshadowed by the blossoming love that bloomed between you.

As the night unfolded, you discovered that what had started as a mere PR stunt had evolved into something far more profound—a genuine connection that defied the constraints of your fabricated romance. And in the quiet intimacy of the moment, as you gazed into each other's eyes with unspoken longing, you knew that it was time to cast aside the pretense and embrace the truth of your feelings.

With trembling hands and hearts laid bare, you made a silent pact to abandon the confines of your contract and embark on a new journey together—a journey defined by love, authenticity, and the promise of a future filled with endless possibilities.

And as the first rays of dawn peeked through the curtains, illuminating the room with a soft golden light, you knew that this was only the beginning of your love story—a story that would unfold with each passing day, leading you both down a path of happiness and fulfillment, hand in hand, as an official couple in love.

el fin.

Kindahatethisbutohwell