#and then i started that and got distracted | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

its-avalon-08 · 2 days

Note

Hello, my favourite Lando Norris writer. Can I request something with Lando where Reader has a son from a previous toxic relationship and Lando thinks she's like hiding something from, like cheating but she confess everything and Lando becomes the dad that stepped up. 🫶

miracle family (ln4)

✦ pairing - lando norris x female!reader

✦ genre - neglected child, tears, comfort

Lando sat at his dining table, staring at his phone. It had been a few days since he last saw Y/N, and though they’d spoken, something felt… off. She’d been distant, always rushing through their calls, making excuses to cut their time short. He told himself he was imagining it, that she was just busy, but a nagging voice in the back of his mind wouldn't let it go.

He thought back to their last date. They had planned to spend the entire evening together, but halfway through dinner, Y/N had gotten a call. She stepped outside to take it, her expression unreadable, but when she returned, her mood had shifted. Her usual brightness had dulled, and she seemed distracted for the rest of the night.

"Sorry, Lando, just some work stuff," she had said with a quick smile when he asked about the call. He didn’t press further, not wanting to seem pushy, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

Then there were the texts. Every time they were together, Y/N seemed to be checking her phone, typing quickly before locking the screen and setting it aside. She never let him see who she was messaging, and when he casually asked if everything was okay, she’d brush it off.

"Yeah, all good. Just a friend going through something," she had said once, her eyes darting away as if she couldn’t meet his gaze.

But the real moment that had started gnawing at him happened the previous weekend. Lando had invited Y/N to one of his races, excited to have her there with him. She’d always been supportive, her energy infectious, but this time, she’d been oddly quiet. When he asked if everything was alright, she just smiled tightly and said she was tired. But after the race, instead of joining him for drinks with the team, she had left abruptly.

"I’ve got to go, Lando. Something’s come up. I’ll explain later, okay?" Her voice had been apologetic, but her eyes… something about them seemed conflicted, like there was something she wasn’t telling him.

He didn’t know why, but in that moment, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was someone else. Was she hiding something from him? Maybe she was seeing someone behind his back, someone she wasn’t ready to tell him about. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask her directly.

Instead, Lando had chosen to observe, watching her carefully over the next few weeks. The phone calls, the quick glances at her screen, the random moments of detachment—it all added up. But every time he was about to say something, the words got stuck in his throat. What if he was wrong? What if she wasn’t cheating, and he was just overthinking everything?

Yet the doubts remained. He found himself scrolling through their old texts late at night, trying to pinpoint when the change had started. He remembered how things used to be—how open and carefree Y/N had been with him. But lately, it felt like there was a wall between them, one she wasn’t letting him break through.

And then, there was that one time she came over to his apartment, looking tired and worn out. She had barely spoken, her eyes heavy with something she wouldn’t share. He had asked her if she wanted to talk, but she had only shaken her head.

"I’m fine, Lando. Just a lot going on."

"Is it work?" he had asked, gently pushing, hoping to understand what was weighing her down.

"It’s… complicated," she had murmured, avoiding his gaze.

Lando hadn’t said anything more that night, but the silence between them had been louder than any words could have been. He had held her close, but even then, she had felt far away.

Now, as he sat alone in his apartment, his mind spinning with unanswered questions, Lando couldn’t help but wonder: was Y/N hiding something from him? Or was it something bigger—something she was afraid to tell him?

Either way, he knew he couldn’t keep pretending everything was normal. Not when it felt like he was losing her, piece by piece.

time skip

Lando strolled through the supermarket aisles, humming softly to himself as he checked items off his shopping list. It was a rare day off, and he decided to take care of some errands. He rounded the corner into the cereal aisle when a small, energetic blur collided with his legs.

"Oh, sorry!" Lando exclaimed, looking down to see a young boy, probably around five years old, grinning up at him.

"It's okay, mister!" the boy chirped. "I was just trying to find the cereal with the marshmallows. Do you know where it is?"

Lando chuckled, kneeling down to the boy's level. "I think it’s a couple of shelves down. What's your name, buddy?"

"I'm Ethan!" the boy said proudly. "What's yours?"

"Lando. Nice to meet you, Ethan," Lando replied, ruffling the boy's hair.

Ethan's eyes widened with excitement. "Like the race car driver?"

Lando laughed. "Exactly like the race car driver."

Ethan's eyes sparkled with wonder. "Wow! My mummy loves race cars! She watches them all the time."

Lando smiled, charmed by the boy's enthusiasm. "Your mum has good taste. Speaking of which, where is she? Shouldn't she be keeping an eye on you?"

Ethan pointed towards the end of the aisle. "She's over there! Mummy! Mummy!"

Lando turned his head in the direction Ethan was pointing, his heart skipping a beat as he saw Y/N standing at the end of the aisle, a look of shock and surprise on her face. She quickly made her way over, her eyes wide with a mixture of emotions.

"Lan?" she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Y/N, uh baby," Lando replied, equally stunned. "I didn't know… I mean, Ethan is your…?"

Y/N nodded, kneeling down to scoop Ethan into her arms. "Yeah, ummm this is my son, Ethan."

Ethan beamed, oblivious to the tension in the air. "Mummy, this is Lando! He's the race car driver!"

Y/N managed a weak smile. "I know, sweetheart. Why don't you go pick out the cereal you wanted?"

Ethan nodded eagerly and ran off, leaving Lando and Y/N standing there, an awkward silence hanging between them.

"Why didn't you tell me, Y/N?" Lando asked softly, his eyes searching hers.

Lando stood frozen, Y/N’s words echoing in his mind.

“I have a son.”

The bustling supermarket seemed to fade into the background, the soft hum of conversations and the clinking of shopping carts drowned out by the weight of her confession. Y/N stood before him, her hands trembling slightly as she held onto the shopping basket, her eyes wide and filled with fear, as though she was bracing herself for his reaction.

Lando blinked, trying to process the information. “You… you have a son?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with disbelief.

Y/N nodded, biting her lip, and that was when her composure began to crack. Her eyes welled up, her breath hitching in her chest as the emotions she had tried so hard to suppress finally surfaced. "Lando, I didn’t know how to tell you. I was so scared you’d leave if you knew. I’ve been hiding it, and I’m so sorry. I—"

Her words choked off as tears streamed down her face. She dropped the basket, her hands covering her face as she sobbed, right there in the middle of the cereal aisle.

“I didn’t want you to think I was hiding it because I don’t trust you, it’s just… Ethan is my whole life. His father was—he was awful, and I didn’t know how to protect us. I’m so sorry, Lando, I should’ve told you sooner—”

But before she could finish, Lando was there, dropping everything as he closed the space between them. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, pulling her into his chest as her body shook with sobs.

“Hey, hey,” Lando whispered, his voice soft and soothing. “It’s okay. It’s okay, Y/N.”

Y/N clung to him, burying her face in his chest, her tears soaking through his shirt. "I'm so sorry," she cried, her words muffled against him. "I didn’t want to lose you. I was so scared."

Lando tightened his embrace, his hand gently stroking the back of her head. "You’re not losing me. You could never lose me."

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look down at her tear-streaked face. He cupped her cheeks in his hands, his thumbs wiping away the tears that continued to fall. “I wish you’d told me earlier, but I get it. I get why you were scared. But I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. You and Ethan—you’re part of my life now. I want to be here for both of you.”

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes wide with disbelief and hope. "You really mean that?"

Lando nodded, his voice steady and full of conviction. "I do. I love you, and if Ethan’s a part of your life, then he’s a part of mine too."

Fresh tears filled her eyes, but this time they weren’t from fear or sadness. They were from relief, from the overwhelming realization that she wasn’t alone anymore. "Lando… I don’t even know what to say."

“You don’t have to say anything. Just… trust me, okay? We’ll figure this out together.” He pulled her back into his arms, holding her tightly as her breathing slowly steadied, her sobs turning into soft sniffles.

In that moment, surrounded by the quiet chaos of the supermarket, Lando knew that nothing else mattered. Not the people passing by, not the curious glances from other shoppers. All that mattered was Y/N and the promise he had made—to be there for her, to be there for Ethan, no matter what.

And as he held her, he realized that this was what love was about. Not just the good moments, but the hard ones too—the moments where you drop everything to be there for the person you love, no questions asked.

At that moment, Ethan came running back with a box of cereal, his face glowing with excitement. "I found it, Mummy! Look!"

Y/N and Lando both laughed, the tension dissipating as they turned their attention to the enthusiastic boy.

"Great choice, Ethan," Lando said, giving him a high-five. "How about we go check out and then grab some ice cream?"

Ethan's eyes lit up. "Yes, please!"

As they made their way to the checkout, Lando glanced at Y/N, his heart swelling with love and commitment. He knew that their journey together wouldn't always be easy, but he was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. For Y/N, for Ethan, and for the family they were about to become.

--- extra scene p.s.a - abusive partner ----

As the sun began to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the park, Ethan ran ahead to the playground, his laughter filling the air. Lando and Y/N watched him for a moment, their hands intertwined as they sat on a nearby bench.

"He's really something," Lando said softly, a smile playing on his lips.

Y/N nodded, her eyes fixed on Ethan. "He is. He's my whole world."

Lando glanced at her, squeezing her hand gently. "Y/N, can we take a walk? There's something I want to talk to you about."

Y/N looked at him, a hint of worry in her eyes, but she nodded. "Sure, Lando."

They stood up and began to walk along the path that circled the playground, the sounds of children playing fading into the background.

"Y/N," Lando began hesitantly, "I want to understand more about Ethan's father. About what you went through. But only if you're ready to talk about it."

Y/N took a deep breath, her fingers tightening around Lando's. "It's… it's not easy to talk about. But you deserve to know."

She paused, collecting her thoughts as they walked. "Ethan's father, Mark, was… he was charming at first. But it didn't take long for his true colors to show. He was controlling, manipulative, and it only got worse over time."

Lando's grip on her hand tightened in silent support as she continued. "He would get angry over the smallest things, and his anger… it was terrifying. He hurt me, Lando. Physically, emotionally. I stayed because I thought I could change him, that things would get better. But they never did."

Y/N's voice broke, and she wiped away a tear that had escaped. "When I found out I was pregnant with Ethan, I knew I had to leave. I couldn't let him grow up in that environment. I was scared, but I knew it was the right thing to do."

Lando stopped walking, turning to face her. "Y/N, I can't even begin to imagine how hard that must have been for you. You're so strong."

She shook her head, tears streaming down her face now. "I don't feel strong, Lando. I felt broken and alone. But I had to protect Ethan. I had to give him a chance at a better life."

Lando pulled her into a tight embrace, his own eyes glistening with tears. "You did the right thing. And you're not alone anymore. You have me, and I'll be here for both of you. Always."

Y/N sobbed against his chest, the weight of her past finally lifting as she felt the warmth of his love and support. "Thank you, Lando. Thank you for being here, for understanding."

He kissed the top of her head, his voice thick with emotion. "I love you, Y/N. And I love Ethan. We'll make this work, I promise."

They stood there for a long moment, wrapped in each other's arms, the world around them fading away. When they finally pulled back, Lando gently wiped the tears from her cheeks.

"Let's go back to Ethan," he said softly. "He's probably wondering where we went."

Y/N nodded, a small but genuine smile forming on her lips. "Yeah, let's go."

As they walked back to the playground, hand in hand, Y/N felt a sense of hope and peace that she hadn't felt in a long time. She knew that the road ahead wouldn't be easy, but with Lando by her side, she was ready to face whatever challenges came their way.

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mechaknight-98 · 3 days

Text

Road Trip Part II (NSFW) FT Sana, Tzuyu and Dahyun

Operator’s notes: I got asked to write Sana so I did you all can blame @smutoperator for her personality though

It's late afternoon as we check into the new hotel. You were resting in Nayeon’s lap when I walked up to you. Tzuyu leaned into me as we sat next to you two.

“How's the search going for a new camera guy?”

You groan. “Yes thankfully he should be meeting us here soon.” I nod and say

“Great here’s hoping he's “normal””

“Me Too,” Nayeon says.

The grand lobby of the hotel buzzes with life as guests shuffle in and out, dragging suitcases, talking in hushed tones, and checking in at the sleek marble reception desk. Twice is no different, blending into the backdrop of tourists, businesspeople, and vacationers. The group chats amongst themselves, some yawning after a long flight, while others, like Sana, seem energetic and eager for new experiences.

As they wait for their room keys, Sana restless as ever, absentmindedly wanders away from the group. She’s preoccupied, glancing at her phone when suddenly—

Bump.

She walks straight into the back of a man, causing her phone to slip from her hands. A small gasp escapes her lips as it clatters onto the floor. Before she can react, the man turns around swiftly and kneels, picking up her phone with surprising grace for someone so imposing. She notices his camera pack before she saw the rest of him

"Sorry about that," his deep voice echoes.

Sana blinks, momentarily speechless. The man standing before her is tall—towering, really—broad-shouldered, and muscular, like a wall of strength. His skin glows with a healthy brown, and his eyes, though sharp, soften when they meet hers. A mischievous grin spreads across his lips as he hands her the phone.

“No, it’s my fault,” Sana giggles, a slight blush creeping up her cheeks. She looks up at him, and for a brief moment, it’s like no one else exists in the bustling hotel. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Well, I’m not complaining about the distraction,” he says with a charming smirk, his voice low and smooth. “I'm Broly, by the way.”

“Sana.” She bites her lip, trying not to look too flustered. She doesn't even process his name. There’s something magnetic about him, the kind of confidence that turns heads.

They stand there for a beat longer than necessary, the chemistry between them palpable.

“So, are you staying here too?” Sana asks, tilting her head playfully.

“I am now, Got a gig and was told to meet the client,” Broly teases, glancing back toward the reception. “What about you?”

"Just for a few days, on tour with my group." She gestures toward the others, where Tzuyu and Nayeon are busy chatting with you and I, oblivious to the scene unfolding nearby.

Broly's eyes follow her gaze and he raises an eyebrow, clearly recognizing Twice. "Ah, so you're famous."

Sana laughs, waving it off. "Something like that."

Before either of them can continue, Jihyo calls out, “Sana! We’ve got our rooms!”

She turns back to Broly, reluctant to break the moment. “Looks like I have to go. Duty calls.”

Broly gives her a slow nod, his smirk never fading. “I hope we bump into each other again.”

Sana grins, her playful side shining through. “Careful what you wish for.”

As she walks back to join her members, she sneaks a glance over her shoulder, and sure enough, Broly is still watching her, his eyes lingering with amusement. She can’t help but smile to herself as she catches up with the group, who immediately start teasing her.

“Who’s that?” Momo asked intrigued.

Sana gave a flirty smile as blush crept onto her cheeks, “oh just some cutie I bumped into,”

Chaeyoung hopped from behind Momo, “he's tall.” she exclaimed. The rest of twice nodded.

“What’s his name?” Jihyo asked curious.

“Broly,” Sana answers we all look at her and I say the words on everyone’s mind except Sana.

“There’s no way that's his name,” I say incredulously.

Sana shrugs and says, “That's what he told me.”

Chewy and I look at you and Nayeon trying to process what Sana is saying until you roll your eyes.

It’s been about 45 minutes since check-in, and we’re scheduled to meet with the rest of the camera crew. The meeting room is modest but well-equipped, the faint aroma of fresh coffee lingering in the air as you walk in, clipboard in hand. A few camera crew members are already seated, including me, adjusting our equipment and chatting in low voices.

You step up to the front of the room, scanning everyone before tapping the clipboard to get their attention.

“Alright, listen up! We’re finalizing our crew for the next couple of days, and I’ve just confirmed our last addition. He should be joining us any second now,” you announce, glancing at the door.

As if on cue, the door swings open. In steps Broly, his tall, muscular frame immediately commanding attention. He walks over casually, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, exuding a cool confidence. My eyes lift from my camera bag, and recognition flickers across my face.

Sana’s mystery man.

“Oh no,” I mutter with a smirk.

You glance between Broly and me, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Wait, don’t tell me—this is the guy from earlier?”

I nod, barely containing a laugh. “Yep, that’s him.”

You turn to Broly, amusement dancing in your eyes. “So, you’re the new camera guy, huh?” You eye him up and down with playful skepticism. “And your name’s… what again?”

Broly doesn’t miss a beat, his signature smirk forming as he confidently replies, “Broly.”

There’s a brief pause, then you chuckle, exchanging a glance with me.

“Broly? Seriously?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “That’s... not what I was expecting.”

I chime in, leaning back in my chair. “Yeah, same here. When Sana told us, I thought for sure she was joking.”

Broly crosses his arms, grin widening as if he’s heard it all before. “It’s a strong name, what can I say?” His tone is light, unfazed by the teasing.

You shake your head, still smiling. “I guess it’s fitting. You do look like you could bench press this entire room.”

I add with a laugh, “Honestly, though, we thought you’d be an anime character or something with a name like that.”

Broly laughs, shrugging. “Well, that’s a story for another time.”

You wave a hand, trying to regain some professionalism. “Alright, alright, enough with the name-roasting. You’re officially on the team, Broly. Let’s see if you can handle the cameras as well as you handle bumping into our members.”

I laugh, leaning forward. “No promises he won’t ‘accidentally’ bump into Sana again.”

Broly shrugs, that smirk still intact.

You roll your eyes, though a grin remains on your face. “Okay, let’s get down to business. We’ve got sound check and prep work for tomorrow’s concert. I’ll be assigning each of you specific members to cover.”

“Dibs on Tzuyu,” I joke, raising a hand, which earns an eye roll from you.

“You’ll have Dahyun,” you retort with a smirk, ignoring my playful pout. You continue giving out roles to the other camera crew members until you get to Broly.

“And as for you, Mr. Davis, you’ll be covering Sana.”

I burst out laughing, unable to contain myself. The timing is just too perfect. You shoot me a glare that shuts me up—mostly.

“Is that it?” you ask, eyebrow raised, and I nod, a dumb grin still plastered on my face.

You wrap up the meeting by establishing a group chat for all the camera crew and their assigned members. As the room starts to clear out, I gather my things and make my way to the “school meal club” room to meet with Dahyun, already thinking about how to bring up her good angles and preferences for the shoot.

As the meeting wraps up, the rest of the camera crew trickles out, and I head down the hallway to meet Dahyun. I pass a couple of Twice members along the way—Chaeyoung and Momo chatting quietly by the elevator. As I walk, I can’t help but replay Broly’s introduction in my head, a smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth. Sana’s going to have a field day when she finds out he’s part of the crew.

Reaching the “school meal club” room, I knock lightly before poking my head in. Dahyun is already inside, lounging on one of the chairs, looking through her phone. She glances up with a bright smile.

“Hey! Ready to make me look good?” she asks, half-joking.

“Of course,” I reply, stepping into the room. “But you make my job easy, Dahyun. No bad angles.”

She laughs, waving off the compliment. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

I notice Tzuyu pout slightly as she's stares at Dahyun and I. I set down my camera gear on the nearby table. “So, let’s talk angles and shots. Anything specific you want me to focus on?”

Dahyun tilts her head, thinking for a moment. “Honestly, I trust you. But… maybe some close-ups during sound check, especially when I’m at the piano. I want the fans to really feel the energy in those moments.”

“Got it,” I nod, scribbling a note on my phone. “I’ll make sure to catch the big moments. Anything else?”

She stands up, stretching a little. “That should cover it. Oh, and maybe if you can get some cool behind-the-scenes stuff when we’re not performing. The fans love that.”

“I’ll get some candid shots for sure,” I promise.

Just then, there’s a knock at the door. I turn around to see Broly standing in the doorway, hands casually in his pockets. His broad frame takes up most of the door, but there’s that signature smirk on his face again.

“Well, if it isn’t Mr. Bench-Press-the-World,” I quip, giving him a mock salute.

Broly chuckles, stepping inside. “I thought I’d come by and get a feel for how things are running here. You're the only other American and I asked Mark. he might’ve mentioned you were up here.”

Dahyun perks up, glancing between the two of us. “Wait, this is the new guy? You're the guy Sana was already talking about you earlier.”

Broly raises his hands in mock innocence. “Can’t help it. People talk.”

I shake my head with a grin. “Yeah, and you’re already causing quite the stir.”

Dahyun crosses her arms, looking him up and down with an impressed nod. “Well, welcome to the crew, Broly. I hope you’ve got some serious camera skills to back up that name.”

Broly laughs, the sound deep and unbothered. “I think I can manage. Just let me know if I need to ‘accidentally’ bump into anyone for a better shot.”

I roll my eyes, shooting Dahyun a look. “See? This is what we’re dealing with now.”

She giggles, obviously entertained by the banter. “Honestly, I think you’ll fit right in. We’ve got plenty of personalities around here, so don’t worry.”

Broly nods, his playful demeanor never faltering. “Good to know. But speaking of fitting in,” he glances at me, “we’ve got sound check in a bit, right? Might be a good time to test out those camera angles.”

I check my watch and nod. “Yeah, we should head down soon. You can get a feel for the layout, and I’ll start grabbing some of those behind-the-scenes shots.”

Dahyun claps her hands together. “Perfect! Let’s make this tour look good!”

With that, the three of us head toward the venue. As we walk, I glance sideways at Broly. Despite his larger-than-life presence, he’s surprisingly easygoing, the kind of guy who could charm his way through any situation. And as much as I teased him earlier, I can’t deny he seems to fit in with the team already.

When we arrive at the concert hall, the stage is being set up for the sound check. Twice is scattered around, some testing their mics, others chatting with staff. The air buzzes with the pre-concert energy, a mix of anticipation and professionalism. I spot Tzuyu adjusting her earpiece and wave over to her before setting up my camera. She smiles before doing The TT pose and fake crying as she gets ready. I smile and mouth, “it will be fine,” which makes her smiley

I catch Dahyun’s eye and nod toward the piano setup. “Ready when you are,” I call out.

She gives me a thumbs-up, and I get into position, carefully framing the shot. As I start snapping photos, I hear Broly chuckle beside me.

“Not bad, huh?” he says, watching the scene unfold.

I glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “Just wait. This is the easy part. Let’s see how you handle the chaos later.”

Broly just grins, his confidence radiating as he slings his camera strap over his shoulder. “Bring it on,” he says, his tone light but competitive.

I narrow my eyes, smirking. “Alright, tough guy. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Without missing a beat, I position myself to capture Dahyun, who’s testing her mic and casually chatting with some of the staff. She looks up just as I snap a shot, and I catch the perfect candid smile. Broly, not to be outdone, turns his attention to Sana, who’s adjusting her earpiece while chatting with Momo. The race begins—both of us moving fluidly around the stage, clicking away with our cameras as Twice moves through their pre-show routine.

It starts subtle—just a friendly rivalry between two photographers, trying to outdo one another. But it doesn’t take long before Sana and Dahyun catch on.

Dahyun, ever observant, notices me darting around, trying to get the best shots. A mischievous smile spreads across her face. She sidles up to me, her gaze twinkling with playfulness. “You working hard or hardly working?” she teases, her voice soft and lilting.

I laugh, glancing down at my camera. “I’m working, but you’re making it hard to focus.”

She giggles, leaning in closer as if sharing a secret. “Well, let’s make it interesting, then.”

Before I can reply, Dahyun blows me a kiss, her hand lifting to her lips before sending the playful gesture in my direction. My heart stumbles in my chest, and for a moment, I forget to take the next shot. Was I falling for her? That innocent charm of hers was disarming, and the way she looked at me made my pulse race. I try to refocus, but she’s already got me flustered, and she knows it.

Meanwhile, across the stage, Sana is upping the ante with Broly. She’s never been one to shy away from playful flirtation, and with Broly, she’s in her element. Her eyes lock onto him, sultry and intense, and she flashes him a smirk as she adjusts her hair. With the subtlety of a seasoned flirt, she begins to move just a little slower, letting her hips sway in a way that makes Broly visibly stiffen, his camera shaking ever so slightly.

“Enjoying the view?” Sana teases as she passes him, her voice low, a hint of laughter behind it.

Broly coughs, caught off guard for a moment, but recovers quickly, shooting her a grin. “Just trying to capture perfection,” he replies, the smoothness of his words hiding his flustered state. But Sana can see right through him.

Dahyun, not one to let Sana out-flirt her, ups her own game. During a break in the sound check, she takes a seat on a speaker, swinging her legs playfully and sending me a sweet, almost shy smile that makes my knees go weak. “Am I doing okay?” she asks in the softest voice, tilting her head just slightly.

“You’re perfect,” I mutter, barely realizing I said it out loud until Dahyun’s smile turns into a victorious grin.

Just as the playful flirting intensifies, Sana goes all-in. She drifts behind Broly during a quiet moment, her eyes lingering on him with a smoldering intensity. Broly tries to stay focused, but Sana isn’t making it easy. She leans in just enough so her perfume lingers in the air between them, her lips curving into a sensual smile as she glances over her shoulder at him.

“How’s the shot from back here?” she asks, her voice sultry, as she takes a slow step away, her hand brushing against his arm.

Broly’s eyes widen for a second, and he quickly lifts his camera, trying to hide the fact that he’s completely flustered. “It’s, uh, great,” he stammers, though the way his camera fumbles slightly betrays his nerves.

The competition between Dahyun and Sana escalates—both playing to their strengths. Dahyun’s innocent, cute approach makes my heart race as she flirts with subtle winks and shy glances, while Sana goes full-on seductress, leaning into her confidence and charm to completely disarm Broly.

The tension builds, and it doesn’t take long for the other Twice members to notice. Momo nudges Jihyo, pointing subtly toward Sana and Dahyun, who are now so wrapped up in their playful competition that it’s almost distracting the whole crew. Jihyo, ever the leader, raises an eyebrow, clearly amused but knowing she needs to step in.

Jihyo walks over, her hands on her hips, shaking her head with a half-smile. “Alright, you two. I know you’re trying to give these poor guys heart attacks, but we’ve got work to do.”

Dahyun, in mid-flirt, blushes slightly, biting her lip to hold back a laugh. Sana, on the other hand, just grins mischievously, shrugging as if she’s innocent in all of this. “What? We’re just having fun,” Sana says, her voice playful.

Broly and I exchange a glance, both of us trying to maintain our composure, but it’s clear we’ve been thoroughly rattled.

“Fun is great, but I don’t need my camera crew passing out before the concert,” Jihyo says with mock sternness. “Save some of that for later, maybe?”

I cough, finally regaining my voice. “Yeah, I think we’ve had enough flirting for one sound check.”

Dahyun giggles, standing up from her seat and giving me one last playful wink. “Alright, alright. I’ll be good.”

Sana, ever the provocateur, shoots Broly one final look. “For now,” she teases, before sauntering off to join the other members.

As they both walk away, Broly lets out a low breath, shaking his head with a grin. “Man, you weren’t kidding. This job comes with a whole lot more than just taking pictures.”

I laugh, still trying to shake off the effect of Dahyun’s flirting. “Yeah, welcome to the team. Good luck surviving it.”

The rest of the sound check goes smoothly, but in the in-between moments, Dahyun and I can’t help but chat. As we talk, I discover we share more in common than I expected. Both preacher’s kids, both passionate about our art, and we even have a similar sense of humor. Every time she laughs at one of my jokes, it feels like a little spark, pulling me closer to her.

“Did you ever have to perform at church?” I ask, curious about her upbringing.

“All the time!” she replies, her eyes shining with excitement. “I think I was born on stage. My dad used to drag me up to sing when I was, like, five.”

“Seriously? That’s adorable,” I say, grinning at the thought. “I can imagine you stealing the spotlight even back then.”

Her cheeks turn a light shade of pink, and she looks down, playing with a strand of her hair. “Well, I might have been a bit of a show-off,” she admits, glancing back at me with a playful smile.

Just then, Sana and Broly approach us, interrupting our moment. “Hey lovebirds,” Sana teases, her voice dripping with mischief as she leans into Broly, who chuckles at the playful jab.

Dahyun and I exchange a quick, embarrassed glance, our faces heating up. “We’re not—” I stammer, but Sana cuts me off with a wave of her hand.

“Oh, please, you both are practically glowing. It’s cute.” She nudges Broly, who smirks knowingly.

Broly grins, crossing his arms. “If they are lovebirds, does that make us a flock?” He leans closer to Sana, who laughs and playfully kisses his nose, leaving him momentarily stunned.

“Broly is definitely the strong, silent type,” Sana says, smirking at him. “But he can definitely be charming when he wants to be.”

“Charm is overrated,” Broly replies, a playful challenge in his tone. “I prefer to let my actions speak for themselves.”

Meanwhile, Dahyun leans closer to me, her eyes sparkling. “So, DJ, do you have any secret talents we should know about?” she asks, her voice soft but teasing.

I chuckle, feeling the heat rise again. “Well, I can juggle, but only when I’m nervous,” I reply, glancing at her with a playful grin. “Maybe I’ll show you later.”

“Oh, I’d love to see that!” she giggles, nudging me lightly with her shoulder.

As we continue to banter, I notice Sana and Broly leaning into each other, their chemistry undeniably electric. Broly catches Sana’s gaze, and without missing a beat, he says, “I bet I could out-juggle you anytime, Sana.”

“Oh, is that a challenge?” Sana replies, her eyes twinkling. “You might want to think twice about that.”

“Bring it on,” he smirks, clearly enjoying their playful competition.

Amidst all this, Dahyun suddenly leans in a bit closer to me, her shoulder brushing against mine, sending a jolt through me. “So, DJ,” she says, her voice dropping slightly, “how do you feel about working with a bunch of divas?”

I laugh lightly, meeting her gaze. “I think I’m in over my head, but I’m here for it,” I reply, the tension between us palpable.

Just then, as I watch Dahyun’s playful smile, I see her blow me a quick kiss, and my heart skips a beat. Was I really falling for her?

In contrast, Sana’s flirtation with Broly intensifies as she begins to dance behind him, giving him sultry looks that make him chuckle and blush. Their playful competition fills the space with energy, drawing the attention of the other members, who watch with amusement.

However, amidst all the fun, Tzuyu stands a little farther away, observing the scene unfold. As she sees Dahyun and I laughing together, an unfamiliar feeling stirs in her stomach. It’s a mix of warmth and something else—something she can’t quite place, but it reminds her of the way she feels about DJ. A hint of confusion flickers in her eyes as she watches, unable to shake the sensation of jealousy and intrigue.

After the soundcheck, I meet up with Tzuyu who bears an expression that is a mix of confusion worry, and something I can't place. She drags me back to my room and says,

“I saw you with Dahyun today,”

Instantly I felt scummy bit Chewy’s eyes flickered with a heat that I didn't recognize. She kissed me and the heat in the kiss is fiery. Chewy pauses for a bit and says, “Please tell me you won't leave me,” I see the pleading in her eyes before confidently saying never. Chewy smiles before kissing me again and removing my clothes.

“Good!” Tzuyu moans as she undresses. She pins me to the bed and mounts me. She slowly grinds on me and I watch as rides me with poise and precision. Her modest tits bounce and I reach up to grab them Tzuyu’s eyes focus on me as she smiles while I massage her breasts. Her walls tighten around me as she continues her “joyride” A moment later I bring Tzuyu in for a kiss as I cup her face. Tzuyu smiles and moans into the kiss.

“You always make me feel so special,” she rasps and I smile before confirming that she is special.

Tzuyu then decided she'd had enough of the slow stuff before she picked up the pace. She rides me faster and faster as she chases her high then when it crashes into her she moans out “Dahyun.” I am so confused that I instantly go soft on her. Tzuyu smiled and then said that was so good before kissing my cheek and cuddling next to me. She got a comfy good night’s rest but I was up the whole night.

The next morning I get up early to talk to you hoping to make sense of last night. as I go looking for you to discuss what happened last night I bump into Sana.

“Hi Dj. How are you?” she asks happy. I shrug which Sana takes notice of.

“Trouble in paradise with Chewy?” she asks. I shake my head and explain,

“No Sana its just weird. I was with Tzuyu last night and she called out for Dahyun. Sana looks at me confused until it clicks.

“Oh I guess it's time again.”

“Time for what?”

“Okay so this may be hard to believe but Tzuyu might have a crush on Dahyun,”

I nodded at Sana’s words stunned, “You are right that is hard to believe.”

“Well neither will admit it but they both have massive crushes on each other, and I think you are their full manifestation of that, because what Chewy likes about Dahyun she sees in you and what Dahyun likes in Chewy she also sees in you. So have fun and enjoy the roller coaster ,” Sana explains then teases which confuses me even more. Sana notices this confusion laughs and says, “Don't worry about it DJ too much. I think you should just go with the flow and let them figure their feelings out.”

I nod confused still and Sana smiles before giving me a big sister-type hug.

“It's okay Dj no matter what happens you'll be fine I promise. Now if you'll excuse me I have a photographer to unravel. Do you know which one of these rooms is Broly’s?” Sana says with a hungry look in her eye. I point to Broly’s room and she smiles before saying “fighting” to encourage me before knocking on his door.

As I walk away to grab food for myself and Tzuyu, I can’t help but chuckle at the thought of Sana's excitement. Moments later, I hear the faint sound of a door opening and then a playful voice.

“Hey, Broly!” Sana greets as she steps into his room.

Broly blinks at her, still slightly groggy. He notices she’s wearing an oversized hoodie that swallows her frame, the fabric hanging off her shoulders in a way that’s both cozy and inviting.

“Huh? This is a surprise. What's with the hoodie fit?” he asks, raising an eyebrow as she skips over to the couch.

Sana’s eyes sparkle with mischief as she plops down, watching him with an intensity that makes him sit up a little straighter. “I like you, and I want you to be mine,” she declares, her voice playful yet earnest.

Broly blinks, taken aback. “We just met,” he exclaims, confusion washing over his features.

“And in that short time, I realized I like you and want to date you,” she continues, sensing his hesitation. Quick to reinforce her words, she leans in, her doe eyes wide and earnest. “Do you not like me?”

Caught off guard, Broly’s defenses drop a notch. “No, I’d love to date you. It’s just… why me?”

Sana suppresses a smirk, pleased that her charm is working. “Well, you’re funny, tough, and handsome. You give me good vibes, so why not?” Her smile is bright and infectious, but there’s a glint in her eye that suggests something deeper.

Broly laughs, clearly flattered. “Okay then, sure.”

Sana beams at him, a triumphant grin lighting up her face. “Yay!” But then, as if a switch flips, her expression shifts. The playful spark in her eyes deepens, and she leans forward slightly, her posture suddenly exuding confidence and intent. “First, some ground rules. I won't be sharing you with anyone.”

The atmosphere in the room thickens, and Broly’s brows furrow, taken aback by the abrupt shift. “Uh, okay…”

Sana’s voice drops to a sultry whisper, her eyes locking onto his with a predatory focus. “I’m serious, Broly. I don’t do love triangles or sharing. If we’re together, it’s just us.” The way she leans in makes Broly feel both exhilarated and slightly uneasy, the intensity of her gaze making his heart race.

He nods slowly, processing the sudden depth of her request. “Right, noted.”

“I want to go on cute dates as often as we can,” she continues, her demeanor oscillating between playful and commanding. “But I also want you to know that if anyone tries to come between us, they’ll have to deal with me.” She smiles, but it’s the kind of smile that sends a shiver down Broly’s spine.

“What do you mean by ‘deal with you’?” he asks, half-laughing, half-worried.

Sana straightens up, her playful facade slightly cracking as she leans back, letting the intensity linger. “I’m not afraid to fight for what I want, Broly. I’m serious about this.”

The air between them crackles with unspoken possibilities, and Broly finds himself both fascinated and intimidated. This isn’t the playful girl he met earlier; this is someone entirely different—assertive, confident, and fiercely determined.

As Sana inches closer, her playful smirk returning, he realizes that he’s drawn to this side of her, even if it’s a bit daunting. “Okay, I can handle that,” he replies, though his voice wavers slightly.

“Good,” she says, her tone lightening again, but the underlying tension remains palpable. “Just remember, I’m not just a cute girl in a hoodie. I know what I want.”

Broly nods, feeling the weight of her words settle in. “I get that. I’m just... surprised.”

Sana leans back, crossing her arms with a satisfied smile. “Surprised is good. Keeps things interesting, right?”

He can’t help but grin at her, feeling a rush of adrenaline. This playful game between them is becoming more intriguing by the second.

Sana stood up and removed her hoodie to reveal a dark black and crimson lingerie set with a garter belt.

“And lastly I need you to keep up when you fuck me.” her voice was dripped with lust and desire. She sashayed over to Broly who sat stunned as she started grinding her crotch on Broly’s before giving him a whorish kiss

She pulls Broly’s shorts down revealing his cock that eagerly plops on her face. Sana’s eyes go wide.

“Oh, I knew you were big Sana moans,” as she palms his BBC. She can't even fully wrap her hand around it. She smiles as she starts stroking him. Her pace is deliberate and intense as she wants to get him as big and as hard for her as possible. Broly groans surprised and horny as Sana has her way with him. As she pushed him to the bed she noticed that Broly had a very specific air

“Oh, are you a virgin?” Sana asked as she slowed her pace. Broly nodded and Sana’s eyes widened.

“Oh my gosh you're telling me Im the first to touch you like this?”

Sana licked her lips as the burning hunger she felt in her womb began to drive her feral. She lined up her dripping pussy with Broly’s cock and sinks down on it.

“Oh fuck you’re gonna split me in half,” Sana moans. Broly is helplessly overwhelmed by all these new sensations and immediately cums inside of Sana. She howls as his semen fills her. She looks down seeing his blissed out face and runs her hands over burly brolic body and cooes “oh I’m gonna have so much fun with you,” she says before getting off of him. Broly apologizes for cumming so early and Sana sweetly whispers to him

“It’s okay baby. We’ll work on our stamina together because I could barely get you inside of me how big are you like 7 inches long and 3 inches thick?”

Broly chuckles and replied “9 by 4 inches.”

Sana’s eyes widen and she says “I’m gonna start calling you Anaconda because fuck your huge.” Broly smiles as Sana kisses his cheek.

The rest of the day goes smoothly, with another practice session scheduled in the late afternoon. I’m tasked with taking more photos, my camera hanging around my neck as I move quietly around the room, capturing the group’s energy. Everything is supposed to be professional—just another day on the job.

But then there’s Dahyun.

She’s dancing near the back of the group, her usual bright energy filling the room. Every now and then, I catch her glancing my way, her eyes sparkling with mischief. It’s like she knows exactly how to pull me in without even trying.

I focus my lens on her, zooming in as she takes a break to adjust her hair. Through the camera, I can see her smile slowly creeping up when she notices me aiming at her.

"Are you sure you’re supposed to be photographing me this much?” she teases, her voice playful but quiet enough not to disturb the others.

I lower the camera slightly, giving her a grin. “You keep finding my lens. Hard to resist a good shot.”

She laughs softly, crossing her arms with a mock-serious look. “Are you saying I’m your best subject?”

I shrug, trying to play it cool even though my heart skips a beat. “You do make my job pretty easy.”

Dahyun’s smile grows as she tilts her head, giving me a cute pout. “Hmm, are you flirting with me again, DJ?”

I freeze for a moment, but then I chuckle. “Who, me? I’m just stating facts. You’re always flirting first.”

Her eyes widen in feigned innocence, her hand lightly pressing to her chest. “Me? Flirting? I’d never!”

I raise an eyebrow, lowering my camera entirely now. “Uh-huh. Like earlier, when you asked me to ‘get your good side,’ knowing full well every side is your good side?”

Dahyun giggles, taking a step closer to me, her eyes bright with amusement. “I can’t help it if I’m photogenic. But I think you just like taking pictures of me.”

I smirk, leaning in just slightly, my voice lowering to match her teasing tone. “Maybe I do.”

For a moment, our eyes lock, and I swear the rest of the room fades away. She’s standing just close enough that I can smell her perfume, something light and sweet that messes with my focus.

Before I can say anything else, Dahyun leans forward, her voice soft but dripping with playful intent. “You know, DJ, if you keep flirting like this, people might start talking.”

I laugh nervously, trying to keep my cool. “Let them talk. I’m just trying to get good pictures.”

“Is that all you’re trying to do?” Dahyun asks, her voice smooth, eyes sparkling as if she knows exactly what she's doing to me.

I blink, caught off guard by her boldness. She steps even closer, her playful expression giving way to something a little more sincere.

“Relax, DJ,” she whispers, a smile tugging at her lips. “I’m just messing with you.”

I swallow hard, trying to regain my composure. “Oh, I know. I just... wasn’t expecting you to be so good at it.”

Dahyun winks, biting her lower lip playfully. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”

The moment stretches between us, the banter flowing so naturally that I almost forget where we are. I lift my camera back up, trying to break the tension, but it doesn’t work. It’s still there, hanging in the air between us—undeniable.

I snap a few more shots, but my mind isn’t on the work anymore. It’s on her, on how easy it is to talk to her, to joke around like this. We just *click* in a way I can’t explain, and that thought both excites and terrifies me.

She catches me looking at her again, and this time, her smile is softer, almost shy. “Careful,” she says, “you’re gonna run out of film if you keep snapping pictures of me.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Good thing this camera’s digital.”

She laughs too, the sound light and infectious, and I can’t help but join in. Every word, every laugh—it feels effortless. Natural.

As the practice winds down and the members start to pack up, I tell myself I’ll keep it professional tomorrow. I’ll keep my distance, focus on the work.

But then Dahyun throws me a wink as she heads toward the exit, and I know that’s not going to happen.

It’s late afternoon, and Twice has just finished rehearsing for the day. The members slowly filter out of the practice room, some heading to the hotel while others linger to chat or stretch. Tzuyu, her heart heavy with a mixture of emotions, lingers behind, eyes darting toward Dahyun, who is laughing with me as Broly and I gather our camera equipment.

Tzuyu’s chest tightens as she watches Dahyun’s bright smile and carefree nature around me. She takes a deep breath and approaches Dahyun just as I excuse myself to adjust my camera for the next shoot.

“Dahyun,” Tzuyu calls out, her voice soft but firm.

Dahyun turns around, her usual playful energy dimming a little at the seriousness in Tzuyu’s tone. “Yeah? What’s up?”

Tzuyu hesitates, not quite sure how to begin. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, her fingers nervously fiddling with the hem of her shirt. “Can we talk? Alone?”

Sensing the tension, Dahyun frowns but nods. “Of course.” The two of them move to a quieter corner of the room, away from the lingering staff.

“What’s going on?” Dahyun asks, concern evident in her voice.

Tzuyu takes a breath, her gaze dropping to the floor before she finally speaks. “Can you... stop flirting with DJ?”

Dahyun blinks, surprised. “What? What are you talking about?”

Tzuyu clenches her fists at her sides, struggling to keep her composure. “I see the way you look at him, Dahyun. The way you’re always laughing and... it just feels like you’re...”

“Like I’m what?” Dahyun’s brow furrows, her confusion growing. “I don’t flirt with DJ. We’re just—”

“Friends?” Tzuyu cuts in, her voice rising in frustration. “That’s not how it looks to me!”

Dahyun’s expression shifts, a mixture of hurt and defensiveness crossing her face. “Why are you getting so worked up about this, Tzuyu? DJ and I are close, sure, but that doesn’t mean anything. Why are you suddenly acting like this?”

Tzuyu’s heart pounds in her chest, the jealousy she’s been trying to suppress bubbling to the surface. “Because I care about him! And... I don’t know if you’re just playing around or if you’re serious, but it’s confusing. For him and for me.”

Dahyun’s eyes narrow, her voice soft but pointed. “Is that what this is about? You’re worried about *him*? Or is it something else?”

Tzuyu falters, her resolve crumbling as she struggles to articulate her emotions. “I just... I don’t want you to hurt him.”

Dahyun’s voice is softer now, but there’s a sharp edge to it. “Tzuyu, I wouldn’t hurt him. He’s a good guy, and I like spending time with him. But why are you acting like you’re the only one who cares about him? What’s really going on here?”

Tzuyu shakes her head, biting her lip. She feels the weight of her unsaid feelings, pressing against her chest, threatening to spill out. She turns away, not wanting Dahyun to see the tears welling up in her eyes.

“Tzuyu...” Dahyun steps forward, her tone gentler now, almost tender. “Why are you so upset?”

“I don’t know!” Tzuyu exclaims, her frustration boiling over. She turns back to Dahyun, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “I don’t know, okay? I don’t know why it hurts so much when I see you with him! And I don’t know why I care so much about who makes him happy. Maybe because... because...”

Dahyun steps closer, her own heart racing now, as if some unspoken truth is on the verge of breaking free. “Because why?”

“Because *I’m* the one who’s confused!” Tzuyu blurts out, her voice cracking. “Not about him... about you!”

Dahyun’s eyes widen, her breath catching in her throat. “Tzuyu...”

“I don’t know when it happened,” Tzuyu continues, her voice shaking. “But suddenly, it wasn’t just DJ anymore. I started... I started feeling something for you, too, and I don’t know what to do with it. It scares me, Dahyun, because I don’t know how to handle it. And I—”

Before she can finish, Dahyun closes the gap between them, cupping Tzuyu’s face in her hands. “Tzuyu, stop.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “You’re not the only one who’s been confused.”

Tzuyu’s breath hitches as she stares into Dahyun’s eyes, the world around them fading away.

Dahyun’s thumb brushes Tzuyu’s cheek gently. “I’ve been feeling something too. About you. I just... didn’t know how to say it.”

The weight of Dahyun’s confession sends a rush of relief and disbelief through Tzuyu. “You... you feel the same way?”

Dahyun nods, her gaze never leaving Tzuyu’s. “Yeah. I do.”

For a moment, neither of them moves, both caught in the raw intensity of the moment. Then, as if drawn by some invisible force, Dahyun leans in, her lips brushing softly against Tzuyu’s. The kiss is tentative at first, delicate, but it quickly deepens as they both realize the depth of their unspoken feelings.

Neither of them notices the door to the rehearsal room opening. Sana and Broly freeze just inside, their eyes widening as they witness the two girls lost in their kiss. Broly clears his throat softly, but Sana quickly shushes him, grabbing his arm and dragging him back out into the hallway.

“Well, that was unexpected,” Broly murmurs once they’re outside, his tone amused.

Sana grins mischievously, her eyes twinkling. “I knew it. They’ve been dancing around each other for ages.”

Broly raises an eyebrow. “Guess DJ’s in for a surprise.”

Sana shrugs playfully, already plotting her next round of teasing. “Oh, he’s got a *lot* to process, but... I have a feeling he’ll be just fine.”

Back inside, Dahyun and Tzuyu pull apart, their foreheads resting against each other as they catch their breath. Tzuyu’s heart feels lighter than it has in weeks, her confusion slowly melting away in the warmth of Dahyun’s presence.

“I’m sorry for being so jealous,” Tzuyu whispers, her voice barely audible.

Dahyun smiles softly, pressing a kiss to Tzuyu’s forehead. “You don’t have to apologize. We’ll figure this out... together.”

Tzuyu nods, her heart pounding but filled with a quiet certainty that whatever comes next, they’ll face it side by side.

#kpop fanfic #male reader #fanfic #twice fanfic #twice smut #tzuyu smut #sana smut

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endless-ineffabilities · 2 days

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chemical override (10)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: as dictated by the results of poll #6, this chapter will include stunt training, clubbing, and an accident. Plus, you've got tub anon to thank for... well... the tub scene :) Oh, and this is kind of 18+. Just a tad.

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Matt and the reader eagerly explore the uncharted waters of their budding relationship. Ewan is booked and busy with the preparation for his new franchise. Will Ewan and his darling even find time for each other, or should they just take this opportunity to let go?

The internet, ever so informative, lets you know that Ewan and Jenna’s arrangement is in its initial stages before he even calls to tell you.

Their first interview with Josh Horowitz is immediately followed by another feature on the movie set, with the two talking about the pre-production, what they liked about the script, and their chemistry, which according to them, came naturally and did not require much work at all. It was practically the thing they had to work on the least. How lucky.

A lighthearted reprieve came in the form of a meme that started circulating not long after their interview with Josh. In it, Ewan is caught looking like he's either malfunctioning or deep in a philosophical crisis. The internet ran with it, with captions like, ‘When you realise you left the oven on at home’, to comparing him to an NPC glitching out.

When you asked him about it, he quickly stammered that he simply spaced out. Sure. It was hilarious, nonetheless.

Your publicist Mallory had commented that soon Ewan and Jenna would be obliged to go on pap walks, something that would appear casual and separate from the confines of the project that they’re working on. Something that signals that their relationship is making it into the real world.

“That whole casual ‘just friends hanging out’ vibe they’re gonna push? It’s all part of the gig,” Mallory shared. “Next thing you know, they’ll be taking long walks on the beach or grabbing coffee in some trendy LA spot.”

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t sting. Even just a little. Sure, you know what the business is like. You’ve been on the same end of that deal just recently, with your own film’s PR efforts. But this arrangement that Ewan has doesn’t seem like the usual short-term fling to drum up buzz. It feels… heavy, like something that might actually stick.

“I’d be lying if I say I don’t find it all annoying, darling, but I try to look at it now as part of the job, you know?” he had said, when he phoned you one evening – his afternoon – to let you know that his stay in LA would be much longer than expected.

You responded with, “Oh, yeah, I completely understand.” What else can you do? You aren’t together – you don’t have a claim to him, and vice versa. You thought that would make things better – easier – but you’re still waiting for that sense of comfort to kick in.

This is for the best, you would remind yourself every time a new headline surfaces.

It’s only been a month since you last properly saw Ewan, since that night on the rooftop. In the early days, he messaged every day, called whenever he had a spare moment. But slowly, the calls have become shorter, more sporadic – chalked up to his increasingly busy schedule. Your tones have become more dispassionate – he blames it on his exhaustion, profusely swearing that he misses you so fucking much, but something feels different.

Your job keeps you busy, with your commitments related to the new season of House of the Dragon, event appearances, and gearing up for the release of your film with Jacob. You are even invited to the upcoming Vanity Fair Young Hollywood Ball, an exclusive party to be held in New York.

And Matt is a more than welcome distraction.

Matt, who has begun spending more time in your apartment after Ewan’s temporary move to LA. Matt, who brings you flowers that are apparently ‘beautiful, but pales in comparison to you’. Matt, who is unfailingly a gentleman, respecting your boundaries and not making a move since that time on your couch after your first date, when you told him to wait.

He sits with you by your kitchen counter, in a disarmingly tight white shirt that leaves little to the imagination, one sturdy hand nursing a cup of coffee and the other on the small of your back to support you as you sit on the high stool, and you suddenly don’t want him to wait anymore.

“Have you decided on what you’ll be wearing to the screening tonight, love?” he asks.

“Why? Does it have to be pre-approved?” you playfully quip, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Ah,” he nods, smiling, playing along, “of course, of course. You think I’m an easy man to date? You’ve got to keep up with my standards, as beautiful as you already are.”

You laugh, playfully mussing his hair, and he catches your wrist before it drops back on the counter. He says, “I ask because I wanted to match you, so to speak. We’d be like two peas in a pod.”

“Oh,” you snort softly, “or you know, like Tweedledee and Tweedledum?”

“Funny girl,” he muses, before leaning forward and capturing your lips in a soft kiss, caffeinated and warm and Matty. You notice that his hand on your back is pressed firmer – he didn’t want you to slip when you leaned in.

Charming bastard. He isn’t making things any easier… or maybe he is.

Maybe he’s it.

But the moment’s broken by a loud, offended-sounding meow. You look down to see Sansa, staring at Matt like he’s personally responsible for all the world’s problems.

“Hey, babygirl,” Matt croons, extending a hand toward her. Sansa, the biggest diva of a kitten, just gives him a slow blink before trotting off, clearly unimpressed.

“Calling her babygirl isn’t going to make her warm up to you,” you tease.

“She already doesn’t seem to like me,” he replies, scoffing. “Which is a shock, pretty much, how can she not?”

“So humble, Matthew.” You smile at his effortless charm, his easy personality. That’s all you seem to be doing nowadays. Matt is like your personal ray of sunshine.

“I’ll win her over,” he declares confidently, sitting upright. “Anything for my lady.”

You roll your eyes. “How very Daemon of you.”

“Actually,” he laughs, “Daemon would probably feed her to Caraxes for being difficult.”

“Matthew!”

“I’m kidding!”

Sansa meows even louder, bounding away towards your bedroom.

“Leave my Sansa alone,” you say, pointing at him accusingly.

He gives you a sly grin. “I will… if you come here and give me another kiss.”

Before you can respond, he slides your stool closer to his with a smooth movement, catching you off guard. You find yourself practically in his lap, his thighs pressing against yours as he waits, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Okay,” you sigh deeply, narrowing your eyes, unable to mask the smile that graces your lips. “One kiss, but only for Sansa.”

“Oh, shush and kiss me already, love.”

The film screening had been a private event, by invitation only from those who worked on the film. Edward Bluemel, Matt’s good friend, is a fellow actor marking his directorial debut with this film. For a first go, it was impressive, gripping from start to finish. Almost as much as Matt’s hand resting just above your knee, his thumb absentmindedly tracing soft circles into your skin.

Your cheeks had flushed when a particularly steamy scene came on the screen, and it might have been the nervous gremlins in your mind, but you swore Matt’s hand inched higher up your leg.

Now, on your couch, his hand is even higher. He hovers over you, his breath heavy and uneven as his fingers tease at the warmth between your thighs, so close to where you’re already aching for him.

Maybe it was all the dirty martinis you drank at the open bar after the screening, or maybe this was a long time coming. Either way, you want him, and from the way his lips move urgently against yours, he wants you too.

It dawns on you that the tension is no longer something you can talk yourself out of.

He pulls away, and you protest with a mewling whine, your body arching into him. He nearly growls in frustration, the unspeakable sound you just made having a direct line to his hardened cock. With a gentle tug at the nape of his neck, you pull him back down to your lips, but he resists.

“We have to slow down,” he chuckles mirthlessly. “Because we’re about to cross a line that I won’t be able to hold back from, love.”

“Matt – ”

“I understand – ” He licks his lips, letting out a slow and controlled breath. “ – that you want to wait – ”

Your confession comes out slow and measured, letting him know that this is what you really want. “Maybe I don’t want… to wait anymore.”

“Say that again,” he says slowly, his eyes darkening in lust.

“Maybe I… I want you to fuck me.”

“Maybe?” he whispers, his voice rough, practically pleading.

“Oh, just fuck me.”

That’s all it takes for him to snap.

He undresses you in record time, ripping off every item of clothing from your body with an eagerness that betrays just how hungry he is for you.

Neither of you even bother to travel to your bedroom. At some point, your entwined naked bodies slip off the couch and onto your plush carpet.

And you have a heated… What was it called again?

Oh right – a damn good roll in the hay.

The water is still warm in your deep clawfoot tub, steam rising gently from the surface. You lean back, head resting against the porcelain, that blissful post-sex daze settling over you.

Matt slides into the water opposite you, his movements slow, deliberate. His eyes haven’t left you since he stepped in, and you can feel the weight of his gaze lingering on your skin. It isn’t just the remnants of your earlier intimacy – though that heat still hummed in the air between you – it’s something more. Something you can’t name and maybe you’re afraid to, but it tugs at you all the same.

A small smile plays on his lips, the kind that made your chest tighten – half teasing, half dangerous.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks, voice low and smooth.

You exhale a soft laugh, running your fingers lazily through the water, trailing small ripples across the surface. “I’m not exactly complaining, am I?”

“Good. Wouldn’t want you to have second thoughts.” His tone is light, but the undercurrent of meaning isn’t lost on you.

You close your eyes, letting the warm water soothe your tired muscles, but even with the comfort of the bath, you can’t quite escape the one person lingering in the back of your mind.

Matt isn’t Ewan, but he’s here, his presence steady, his charm disarming. He makes you laugh, makes you feel wanted in ways that are simple and uncomplicated, and maybe that’s what you need right now. Maybe it was okay to let yourself enjoy this, to live in this moment without overthinking what it meant.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Matt asks, leaning forward.

You open your eyes, catching the glint of amusement in his. “Just... thinking.”

“Dangerous territory,” he teases, reaching for your hand.

“Hmm, maybe,” you murmur, meeting his gaze. “You’re too charming for your own good, you know that?”

He chuckles deeply. “I’ve been told. But I like to think it’s part of my appeal.”

You roll your eyes, though you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Cocky bastard.”

He grins, leaning in even closer, his breath warm against your cheek. “Takes one to know one.” His hand travels to your leg underneath the water, massaging gently.

“I’m serious, though,” he says softly, his voice taking on a more earnest tone. “I don’t want you overthinking this. We’re good, yeah?”

You nod, but there is a flicker of something else in your chest. Guilt, maybe? But Matt is right here, and he isn’t asking for anything more than what you could give, and for now, that is more than enough.

“We’re good,” you whisper, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips.

He smiles against your mouth, his hand moving to cup the back of your neck, pulling you in closer. “Good,” he whispers back, his voice a low rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

You laugh, the sound muffled as he kisses you again and positions you on top of him. You shuffle forward and discover a very obvious indication that he’s ready for round two of rolling in the hay. Or in the tub. Whatever works.

He looks absolutely enraptured when you ride him, your motions causing tremors in the water.

And in the sheer pleasure he gives you, surrounded by flickering candlelight and the smell of lavender, you allow yourself to let go.

The event has the industry buzzing - an exclusive event by Vanity Fair celebrating the rising stars of Hollywood. A masquerade party, the notion of which excited you to no end. You’d only read about such in books, in its medieval iterations, all poofy skirts and velvet waistcoats, the whole concept full of prestige and mystery.

You spent days prepping with your team, the anticipation building until it felt like a living thing inside you. Your dress, a beautiful piece from Atelier Versace, fits like a glove, one side made of draped black sequins shimmering like liquid night against your skin. The theme is Midnight Elysium, and you look every bit the part - dangerous and glamourous and untouchable.

Your makeup team did an impeccable job. Your eyeshadow resembles a swirling galaxy, a blend of silver and noir. Your lipstick is a perfect nude shade that matches your skin tone and your features.

But then there was the mask. The final, necessary touch. Delicate black lace that settles over your eyes, framed with gold filigree and flecks of silver – sharp and ethereal at once. It was a piece of art, something you personally commissioned from a local designer in your hometown.

In a room where everyone claims to know everyone, a mask can be more than just a costume piece. It can be a weapon – giving you the freedom to be both seen and unseen.

Stepping into the nightclub is like slipping in between worlds. Black velvet drapes line the walls, catching the glow of the minimal lighting – gold and silver chandeliers hanging like constellations. The bass from the music pulses underfoot, sending vibrations through your veins. Faces are obscured by extravagant masks, but you are able to recognise some of them if you look close enough. Milly is speaking to someone by the bar, and you remind yourself to pull her aside for a chat later. Timothee is introducing his date to a small flock of people. And Jacob is bounding right for you the moment you make eye contact.

“There’s my leading lady,” he greets cheerfully, swooping down to kiss you on both cheeks. He’s wearing a metallic silver vest and trousers, along with a white mask that covers one side of his face like The Phantom.

“Wow,” you say, making a show of appraising him, looking at all 6 foot 5 inches of his figure up and down. “You look like a handsome disco ball.”

He laughs, the sound unmistakable even in the bustling nightclub. “And look at you! What are you, a cyberpunk witch? A sleek dominatrix?”

“Careful now,” you warn him, “or I might just hex you into getting me a drink.”

“Coming right up,” he says, but his attention is pulled by someone calling his name. “Hold on a sec, I have to introduce you to some of my friends.” You let him lead you further into the room, and you’re swept into the rhythm of it all, moving through the crowd as if you belong – because you do. You’re slowly getting used to the weight of eyes on you, but tonight, it feels as if there’s a shadow you can’t quite shake.

Your personal shadow in a room full of masked shadows. Your skin prickles, an awareness blooming under your ribs. In all the fuss leading up to this event, you hadn’t really bothered to check the full roster of attendees.

After several rounds of conversation, you excuse yourself for a moment and stand off to the side to take a breather.

And then you see him.

Ewan stands across the room, a drink in hand, his black leather overcoat tailored to perfection. The mask he wears, a sharp cut of black and gold, adds a dangerous air to him. His effortlessly tousled hair sports a smattering of gold embellishments, like streaks of pale blonde hair. You take him in, every inch of him, that mischievous curve of his lips and the glint of his blue eyes underneath that mask.

It hits you like a tidal wave, like a fucking hurricane, the longing you’ve tried to suppress for weeks.

You shouldn’t want him this much, not when you both agreed to the break. To keep some distance. His fake romantic arrangement had made sure of that. And after everything, you knew that some separation was what you both needed.

But seeing him now, looking at you like he’s starving… it’s enough to unravel every careful thread you’d stitched together since you last touched. You want to look away, pretend that this is just another night, that he’s just another fellow actor among the crowd. But the pull is too strong. It’s as if your legs move on their own volition, and you slowly move through the crowd, almost subconsciously drawn to him.

He steps deeper into the shadows of the club as you approach, disappearing into one of the more secluded alcoves draped in heavy black velvet. No one will see you there. No one will know any better.

The world narrows down to just the two of you, and the music becomes a distant hum. It’s quieter, darker, and for all the trappings of the Hollywood elite, Ewan is far more intoxicating.

“You’re here,” you whisper, half in question, half in disbelief.

But he’s already moving towards you, his eyes dark and hungry behind the mask. The air between you crackles with an undeniable need – weeks of distance, of longing, building up to this moment. He’s close enough that you feel the warmth of his body through your dress, and you so badly want to forget that this is a bad idea.

“I can’t stay away,” he says, his voice low and raw, like it’s costing him to hold back. “Not tonight.”

You swallow, your heart pounding in your chest, every rational thought slipping away as his fingers skim the bare skin of your waist through the slits in your dress. “We… we can’t,” you manage to say, but even to your own ears, it sounds weak. Oh, who are you trying to fool?

“How can I not? Fuck, how can you look like that and expect me to just walk away?”

You want to say something, something sensible, something to remind him of the stakes. But nothing comes to mind, not when his hand brushes up your arm, raising goosebumps in its wake. His other hand slips to your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space between you. He dips his head down, breathing against your shoulders and your neck, taking you in like a vice.

“Ewan,” you finally croak. “We agreed not to – ”

“I don’t bloody care,” he cuts you off, his mouth inches from yours. “We agreed to give it some time, sure, but I never agreed to stop wanting you. Besides, I make good on what’s asked of me. I play the part. I deserve to be rewarded, don’t I? And you’re the only prize I desire.”

His words hit you hard, melting any resistance you’d been clinging to.

“Oh? So… so I’m just a prize now?”

He only smiles. “The only one worth winning.”

Before you can think, before you can stop yourself, you pull him closer and crash your lips into his.

The kiss is hard, fierce, his mouth feverishly attacking yours. He tastes bittersweet, all hard bourbon and cigarettes. You’re certain that the lipstick your makeup artist painstakingly applied would be wiped clean off. His hands grip you harder, fingers digging into your flesh, pulling you closer, deeper, like he can’t get enough.

You break apart, gasping for breath. His lips are slick, shining in the occasional flicker of neon blue and red lights, his mask casting shadows across his sharp features.

A bright flash from the party's official photographer erupts in the corner, thankfully not pointed in your direction. Still, it momentarily shakes both of you back to reality.

“Come with me.” His hand slips into yours, fingers curling possessively as he pulls you away from the cacophony of the club. You barely have time to react before you’re being led down a narrow, dimly lit hallway. He pushes open a door, leading you into a smaller room bathed in that same cold, electric blue. Plush seating is arranged haphazardly in the corners, but the space is mostly empty. The low hum of the bass still thrums in the distance, but it’s reduced to a faint echo. The smell gives off cigarette smoke and spilled liquor.

“Smoking area,” he says with a half-smirk, glancing around the room as if seeing it for the first time himself. “I think.”

“You think?” You raise an eyebrow.

He shrugs, utterly unconcerned. “Who cares? It’s just us in here.”

You shoot him a look, glancing back at the door. “Someone could walk in.”

He chuckles, stepping closer, that familiar heat radiating off him like a furnace. “It’s a party, darling. They’re probably wasted out of their minds. And besides…” He taps the edge of his mask, his eyes glinting mischievously behind the black and gold. “The masks?”

You bite your lip, trying to maintain some semblance of control. “And if someone does walk in?” you ask, arching a brow. “What then?”

He steps closer, crowding into your space, the tension thick between you. “Then they get a show,” he says, his voice playful and teasing, but laced with something darker.

“Are you fucking serious?”

“You can still walk away, darling,” he offers, trying to bait you when he knows full well that he already has you hooked. “Or, you can just shut up and kiss me.”

So much for giving it time. Ewan’s lips find yours once more, just as desperate, and you barely notice when he directs you to the seating, your back colliding with its velvet exterior. His low groan sends a wave of heat pooling in your stomach, and you think to yourself, this was a terrible idea.

Your hands roam, finding the planes of his chest. He smoothly takes off his leather overcoat, revealing his bare torso underneath. The sight of it makes your head spin, and you croak unsteadily, “Ewan… not here, baby, we can’t – ”

“I know, darling,” he croons, his hand cradling your face. “I just wanna kiss you. I just want you… to touch me…” His other hand takes yours and drags it down the firm lines of his stomach, a desperate plea in his eyes. “Please, just – ”

The moment is abruptly shattered by the sound of giggling from the hallway, getting louder. Suddenly, the door opens and in stumbles a pair of girls, one of them you recognise to be Jenna.

“Oh!” The other girl exclaims, clearly delighted by the situation she’s just walked into. She pulls off her mask, revealing herself as Emma Myers. “We found him! We finally found your date.”

Your heart plummets, right down on the liquor stained carpet.

“Hi,” you manage to squeak, getting to your feet and smoothing down your dress which had ridden scandalously higher up your thighs. “I’m – ”

“Oh, I know who you are,” Jenna says, shaking your hand, not the least bit bothered by the state she found you and Ewan in. “I love your work. I’m Jenna.”

“Oh… thank you – ”

Emma steps in, grinning. “Hi! I’m Emma. I’m such a fan.”

“Oh my god, I should be saying that to you guys!” you blurt, feeling a rush of relief at their easy demeanour. “I love Wednesday.”

They both gasp, and soon the three of you are exchanging compliments like old friends, chatting about each other's work with enthusiasm. Ewan, still seated, watches the scene unfold with barely concealed frustration. He eventually stands, shrugging his leather coat back on, and glances at Jenna.

“One of our producers is here,” Jenna explains cheerfully. “She’d love to chat with both of us.”

Right. Ewan’s her date. The word echoes in your mind, but the jealousy you expected to feel is oddly muted now.

Ewan speaks, addressing only you, “Darling, will you – ”

“I’ve got her,” Emma declares, looping her arm around yours. “I’ve got so much I want to ask you!” Before you know it, she leads you out of the room like you’ve been best friends for years.

Ewan’s eyes stay on you, full of frustration and yearning, even as he and Jenna follow you out the door.

But you barely see him for the rest of the night.

The party is a blur of celebrities and conversations, but your mind keeps drifting back to that stolen moment in the blue-lit room. Eventually, your social battery runs out, and you slip out of the club early, unnoticed by most.

Back at your hotel, you peel off your dress and drop onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling as the events of the night replay in your head. The feeling of his hands on your skin, the heat of his body pressed against yours – it’s all too much.

Your phone buzzes on the nightstand, snapping you out of your thoughts. Ewan One-Eye flashes across the screen.

You hesitate, thumb hovering over the screen, but you pick up. His voice is low, almost cautious. “You left early.”

“I was tired,” you reply, voice soft. “The party was great but it was... a lot.” Mainly because of him.

A beat of silence follows, and you wonder if he's wrestling with what to say next. “Are you okay?” You can almost picture him running a hand through his hair, jaw clenched, eyes dark with worry.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you say, unable to hide the tremble in your voice.

Another long pause, with only his slow breathing on the other end.

“I hate this,” he finally says, voice barely above a whisper, the raw emotion in his words hitting you like a punch to the gut. “I fucking hate that he gets to have you, and I don’t… and I can’t… ” He cuts himself off, and you hear the snap of his lighter followed by his sharp exhale.

You bite your lip, your throat tight with emotion. You’ve both been so careful, dancing around each other, pretending that you could stay apart.

“I’m flying back to London tomorrow night,” you blurt out, the words rushing out before you can stop them. It feels like a confession, like you’re admitting defeat.

“I need to see you before you go.”

“Ewan, we agreed – ”

“Fuck what we agreed!” His sudden outburst takes you by surprise, and you hear the raw need in his voice. “I don’t care about the arrangement, I don’t care about the distance. I just... I need you.”

You want to tell him that you need him too. You want to throw caution to the wind and agree to being together in secret despite the false romance he has to portray to the world. But you can’t.

“I...” Your voice falters. “We’ll see each other soon.” It doesn’t feel like enough. With a soft sigh, you add on a lighter note, “Alyna still has to kick Aemond’s ass, you know.”

A beat passes, and then you hear his tired laugh on the other end. “Right,” he chuckles softly, the sound both comforting and heartbreaking. “Wouldn’t want to keep the fans waiting for that.”

“Yeah, well,” you say, trying for casual, trying not to let your voice crack, “someone’s got to put Aemond in his place.”

“Hmm, well if that place happens to be right in Alyna’s arms, I doubt you’ll hear any complaints about the script from me this time.”

You can’t help but smile at his teasing, but it only deepens the ache in your heart.

“Ewan…” you begin, but the words hang in the air, unspoken.

“I know, darling,” he replies, his tone resigned yet gentle. “I miss you too.”

The training room is alive with the sounds of clashing swords and laughter, but you can’t help but feel a different kind of electricity buzzing in the air. Maybe it’s just the way Matt looks at you, as you rehearse a scene where Daemon helps Alyna brush up on her sword fighting.

You lunge forward, initiating the first move with confidence, and he counters effortlessly, the blades clashing in a symphony of steel. The practice moves are intense, each swing bringing you closer. His eyes darken with focus as he follows your movements, and for a moment, it becomes easy to forget the rest of the stunt crew in the room.

“Nice footwork,” Matt compliments, stepping in closer. His body brushes against yours, sending a rush of heat through you. Ever since your night together, he has only been more brazen with his affections. “But you’re leaving yourself open here.” He demonstrates, his sword brushing against your side as he adjusts your stance.

“There,” he says, his voice dropping lower, “feel that?” You swallow nervously, grateful that the stunt coordinator had moved on to Harry in the far side of the room.

“I think I might be too open,” you manage to say, trying to keep your tone light.

“Maybe,” Matt murmurs, stepping back slightly but keeping his gaze locked on yours. “But I can’t help but want to close the distance.”

As you move through the choreography, you both fall into a rhythm, and almost inevitably, the fight turns into something more playful. You circle each other, exchanging faux blows and laughter, the distracting banter causing the stunt director to approach and get you both back on track.

Next up, you have to train for Alyna’s pivotal scene where she attempts to mount Caraxes as per Daemon’s command.

As you practice the mounting technique on the mechanical dragon, you’re hyper-aware of every movement. The crew watches closely, ready to offer guidance. You grip the handles tightly, adrenaline coursing through your veins, and for a brief moment, you lose yourself in the character, feeling the thrill of the scene.

But then it happens. The Buck jolts unexpectedly, throwing you off balance. Time seems to slow as you feel yourself slipping. You try to brace for impact, but it’s too late. You land hard, the pain shooting through your ankle as it twists at an unnatural angle.

There is a stinging sensation too, by the side of your head, and all you think is – oh fuck. The world around you fades to a blur, just as chaos erupts.

When you finally regain consciousness, the sterile scent of antiseptic fills your nostrils. Your surroundings come into focus slowly, and your heart races when you realise you’re in a hospital room. The steady beep of a monitor is the only sound, punctuated by the faint rustle of fabric.

You feel his hand on yours before your eyes even land on his figure, slumped on a chair beside your bed. His head rests on his shoulder, his grip still lightly holding your hand. His brow is furrowed in worry, even in sleep.

You feel lightheaded, and for a moment you worry that your concussion might be worse than it is, but no. It's just him.

Then, the sound of your movement catches his attention. He stirs, his eyes fluttering open, and when he meets your gaze, relief instantly washes over his features.

“Love… you’re awake.”

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @onlyrealjoy @hotdismylife @thepurplecrown @just-fics-station @clarkysblog @urmomsgirlfriend1 @misfitbimbosblog (continued in comments ... )

Some notes in the margins...

Well, well, well. Yous were convinced that Matty would get the clubbing scene, helped by the red herring of his dancing video. Alas!

Is that Matty at the end there? Or a certain Mitchelly man? Hmm... one wonders. 💖

Complaints? Refund requests? Please direct your thoughts in the comments section below. I can 100% guarantee a satisfying solution. Or 70%.

Or, you know, bugger it. We're all in this together, better or worse ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

#ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell imagine #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell fanfiction #matt smith #matt smith x reader #chemical override #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #hotd

385 notes · View notes

hoshifighting · 19 hours

Note

i’m not even going anon for this because i have NO SHAME for what i am about to ask

i can’t stop thinking about gamer woo… and better yet i can’t stop thinking about what sucking him off under his desk would be like while he’s playing.. 🫠

so lyla i am asking you to PLSSSS write something smutty about gamer!woo if you would be so kind 🥲☝🏻 just sumn about getting him hot and bothered and distracted while he’s gaming (& trying not to stutter and moan into his mic) has me going absolutely bonkers

i know i can trust u with this

giving gamer!wonwoo blowjob as he plays WARNINGS: smut, semi-public sex, blowjob, cum eating, mentions of body fluids (spit/cum)

you’re crouched under wonwoo’s desk, back pressed awkwardly against the leg of his chair, knees scraping the hard floor as you breathe out a quiet laugh. the low hum of his voice drifts from above, a steady stream of half-bored conversation with his teammates. there’s something about the way he talks when he’s gaming—always little impatient. his fingers click furiously over the keys, and his jaw clenches when something doesn’t go his way. it makes him feel untouchable.

and you’ve made it your personal mission to fuck with that.

“fuckin’ idiots, just push left,” he mutters, eyes fixed on the screen, completely oblivious to the fact that your hands are already sneaking up his thighs, fingers teasing at the waistband of his joggers. you feel him tense, the sudden shift of his body as your nails drag lightly against his skin, just under the fabric. his focus doesn’t break, though, not yet.

you grin.

“yah—keep up with the heals, come on,” he snaps, trying to maintain some kind of composure, but you hear the slight hitch in his breath when your fingers dip lower.

“what the fuck are you doing?” he mutters breathless, but the mic isn’t muted, and the noise from his teammates drowns it out.

you don’t answer. instead, you tug his joggers down just enough to free him, your fingers wrapping around his half-hard cock, feeling him twitch in your hand. it’s satisfying, the way his body reacts before his mind even catches up. you hear his breath stutter, like he’s trying to keep the sounds inside, trying to keep some shred of control.

“mmph—yeah, yeah, just push, we can still win this,” he’s saying to the team, voice tight, and you almost feel bad for him. almost.

but then you lean in, let your tongue drag along his length, slow and wet, and you feel him jolt in his chair, his hand gripping the edge of the desk like it’s the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

“fuck,” he whispers, quieter this time, more for you than the game.

you smile against his skin, lips brushing over the sensitive head, and then you take him into your mouth, slowly, savoring the way his thighs tremble under your hands, the way his breath catches in his throat.

“w-wait—shit,” he stammers, and you hear the faint confusion from his teammates on the other end of the mic. you’d laugh if your mouth wasn’t full, if you weren’t so focused on making him lose his mind.

his hands are gripping the desk so hard now, knuckles white, his hips twitching involuntarily as you work your tongue along his length, hollowing your cheeks, sucking just hard enough to make him curse under his breath.

“wonwoo, you... good? you’re like…really quiet, man.”

he doesn’t respond right away, too busy biting his lip, eyes squeezed shut as he tries to keep it together. it’s almost pathetic how hard he’s trying not to break.

“yeah,” he finally grits out, voice strained, “i’m fine. just—focus on the game.”

you chuckle around his cock, the vibrations making him hiss through his teeth, his hips bucking up slightly into your mouth. you let him, taking him deeper, tongue swirling around the head every time you pull back, slow, teasing, like you’ve got all the time in the world to make him come inside your mouth.

“i swear to god, if you don’t stop—” he starts, but the threat dies in his throat when you hum again, pressing him deeper into your mouth, watching his hand fly to his headset, muting his mic with a shaky breath.

he sets the headset aside with a hasty clatter, both of his hands moving down to grab fistfuls of your hair. you feel the shift immediately—the control he’s trying to take back, the dominance that flares up when you push him too far. his fingers are rough as they tangle at the roots, pulling you just enough to make your scalp tingle, but not enough to hurt. you groan at the pressure, letting him guide your head, and that seems to light something inside him. his hips roll up into your mouth, savoring the feeling of your lips wrapped around him.

the chair squeaks under his shifting weight, the soft creak of it barely audible over the wet sounds of your mouth working him over. you’re drooling now, the spit gathering at the corners of your lips, dripping down your chin, resting on his crotch, but you don’t care—you know how much it gets to him when you make it

you glance up at him, eyes rolling back, letting your expression go slack and fucked out—just like he loves it, and that’s when you hear it—his sharp intake of breath, the way he swears under it. it’s like he’s trying so hard to be a strong soldier, but you know him, know that look in his eyes.

“fuck—” he groans, his hips bucking up harder into your mouth, his fingers twisting tighter in your hair, practically holding you in place as he starts moving faster, forcing you to take him deeper.

your hands grip his thighs for balance, feeling the tense muscles under your fingers, the way his body is so close to snapping. every move unraveling as his thrusts get more desperate, more reckless. the squeak of the chair is constant now, a chaotic rhythm that matches the way he’s fucking your mouth, the sound punctuated by his shaky breaths and low curses.

“shit—you’re too fucking good at this,” he pants, eyes wwild as he stares down at you, his voice almost whiny, “look at you, drooling all over me…fuckin’ filthy.”

you moan around him, the sound muffled but still loud enough to vibrate through him, and he jerks, hips stuttering as he struggles to hold back. his grip on your hair tightens, and for a moment, you think he’s going to let go, let himself come in your mouth—but he doesn’t.

instead, he pulls you off him suddenly, your lips slick with spit and precum, and your breath comes in short gasps. before you can even question it, his hand wraps around his own cock, slick with everything you’ve left behind, and he starts stroking himself fast, the way he likes it.

his other hand grips the back of your head, holding you close, forcing you to watch as he jerks himself off right in front of you, his breath coming out in rough pants, the muscles in his arm flexing with every stroke. you can’t help but let your tongue dart out, licking at the head every time his hand moves down, teasing him.

“gonna cum, fuck—gonna cum all over your pretty fucking face,” he growls, his voice desperate. you open your mouth wide, tongue out, eyes locked on his, and the sight of you like that, so eager for him, makes him roll your eyes.

he groans loudly, his whole body shaking as he spills across your face, thick ropes of cum splattering over your lips, your tongue, your chin. you swallow what you can, but the rest drips down, mixing with the mess already on your skin. his hand keeps stroking, milking out every last drop, until he’s twitching from oversensitivity, his breathing ragged.

he watches you for a moment, panting, chest heaving, and then—without a word—he leans down, his thumb swiping across your chin, gathering the cum that dripped there, and pushes it back into your mouth.

“swallow it all, baby,” he says, and you do, your tongue curling around his thumb as you swallow everything he’s given u.

he smirks, pulling you up by the hair and pressing a lazy, messy kiss to your lips, his cum still lingering on both your tongues. when he finally pulls back, he looks at you like you’ve just become his favorite fucking person in the world.

“next time,” he whispers, breath hot against your ear, “i’m fucking you on the chair.”

you grin, wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb.

#seventeen imagines #seventeen reactions #seventeen headcanons #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen #svt imagines #seventeen smut #svt smut #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo seventeen #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo imagine #wonwoo reaction

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steddieas-shegoes · 2 days

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hidden lace

for @steddiesmuttyseptember prompts 'sneaking around' and 'lingerie'

rated e | 18+, minors dni or i will tell your mother | 2852 words | check ao3 for all tags

💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

Steve is pissed at Eddie.

Like, genuinely pissed.

Not that cute, haha my boyfriend was being annoying but I love him, pissed.

The kind where if he saw him right now, he’d do something really stupid, like yell or break up with him.

And he knew he didn’t actually want to do that.

But see, Steve had been given incorrect information about what they would be doing tonight. He’d been told they’d be having dinner alone and then going to the quarry alone and probably going back to Steve’s house alone.

When they showed up at the diner to a table full of Eddie’s bandmates, Steve’s teeth gritted together to hold back saying something much more rude than he intended.

It was fine, though, because Steve did actually like hanging out with the guys despite their rough start. They were some of the few people who knew about Steve and Eddie’s relationship, so they didn’t feel like they had to hide anything.

Well, Steve did tonight.

He was wearing his usual clothes, of course, but underneath, he was wearing a lingerie set. Something Eddie had been begging him to wear for months now, something Steve had tried on at least 20 times before only to hurry out of them because it felt too good. He figured with how much they’d be alone tonight, he could get used to the feeling of the lace against his skin at dinner and then surprise Eddie with it when they got to the quarry.

It’s all he’s thought about since Eddie picked him up.

He’s certain it’s written all over his face throughout dinner. Gareth keeps shooting him these looks like he knows Steve’s hiding something, and Jeff has asked him if he’s okay at least three times since they sat down. Frankie doesn’t say anything, but he does hand Steve a joint when no one else is looking and tells him to relax a little.

If Steve was smart, he probably would have snuck a few hits from it before Eddie got in the van.

“That was fun,” Eddie said as Steve contemplated trying to run back inside to the bathroom so he could strip the lace off and shove it into his pockets.

“Uh huh.”

“Sorry I didn’t tell you they’d be joining us, sweetheart.”

Steve gives him a half-hearted smile. “That’s okay. Um, are we seeing anyone else tonight?”

“Oh! There’s a bunch of people hanging at the quarry. I think even Robin’s gonna be there.”

Steve nods a little too enthusiastically to be convincing. “Cool. Sounds good.”

Eddie’s eyes are on him, intense. “You don’t sound happy about it. Thought you’d be a little more excited about hanging with Robin. You just told me yesterday you haven’t gotten to spend time with her outside of work for weeks.”

“No, you’re right,” Steve sighs. “I just wasn’t expecting to be…social.”

“We planned a date?” Eddie sounds genuinely confused, as if he doesn’t know the difference between hanging out one on one and in groups.

“Yeah, I just.” Steve sighs again. “It’s fine. Let’s go hang out with people.”

Eddie looks like he wants to push and understand why Steve is suddenly so worried about being around people, but Steve leans in to kiss him quickly, just a soft peck on the lips. He smiles and Eddie smiles back.

Instant distraction.

Eddie has admitted before that Steve has a way of making him go completely dumb. Some would call it dick brain, but it’s not even that he gets hard about it. He just feels like all thoughts have left the building.

Like Elvis, man,, he’d said when Robin asked what his deal was after Steve had kissed him goodbye at work.

As Eddie drives them to the quarry, Steve shifts in his seat. He’s not uncomfortable, but he definitely worries that he will be when all eyes are on him. Maybe they won’t know that he’s nearly bursting out of blush pink panties and a matching bralette that rubs against his nipples in a way that feels like Eddie’s teeth when they’re teasing him. But maybe they will.

But are his nerves because he’s worried people will know?

He can feel his dick hardening against the damp lace.

No, he doesn’t think he’s all that worried about people seeing him in lingerie.

Eddie’s door slamming is the only thing that alerts him to their arrival. He blinks and opens his door so he can hop out, but he’s immediately frozen when he feels the head of his dick rubbing against his jeans.

So maybe next time he can buy a size up. Or find some made for men. Do they make them for men?

“Stevie?” Eddie’s voice is against his ear, sending chills down his spine as his hand ghosts between his shirt and waistband. “You sure you don’t wanna go home?”

“I’m sure,” Steve shivers.

“We won’t stay for long,” he promises.

Steve just nods.

He does what he’s supposed to at these things: makes smalltalk with people he doesn’t know that well, hangs around Eddie and Robin as much as possible, smiles and laughs when appropriate.

But his brain is gone.

Well, it’s there, but it’s made of lace and the sweat beading at his brow despite the fall chill.

He doesn’t know how long they’ve been here, but he thinks he’s gonna have to go soon.

Eddie’s fingers grasp his forearm.

“Steve.”

Steve looks at him.

Eddie knows.

His face is flush and his pupils are huge, looks like he would bite a bruise into Steve’s neck right now, in front of all these people.

“Van. Now.”

The van is surrounded by cars. Empty cars, but still cars that belong to people.

Steve should probably just explain what’s going on, and then maybe they could just go back to Steve’s house and never bring this up ever again.

But he doesn’t. He knows they’re about to fuck in Eddie’s van, and he knows everyone at this gathering is busy, and he thinks maybe this will be the night that someone finds out exactly what Steve and Eddie are to each other.

Eddie doesn’t let go of his arm as they walk, which puts them both at a strange angle. No one seems to notice, but Steve’s not sure he’d be aware of anyone looking their way at this point. His brain is fuzzy, and all he can think about is Eddie stripping him down to the lace barely covering him in the back of his van.

No one is near the cars when Eddie opens the backdoor of his van and gently nudges Steve inside. No one is there to see the way Eddie watches him fall face first on the blanket he keeps laid out, barely holding back a groan at the way Steve’s ass is up in the air, taunting him even while fully clothed. No one except Steve feels his heartbeat racing as Eddie closes the door and grips his calf.

“You’ve been on edge all night. I was starting to worry you were sick or I’d pissed you off, but it’s not either of those things, is it?” Eddie leans over Steve’s back, bracketing him in until he has no choice but to fall flat against the blanket. “You wanna be fucked.”

Steve whines.

“But why? You knew we’d go to your house later. You knew I’d take care of you. So why are you acting like this?” Eddie continues, breath hot against Steve’s neck.

His hand ghosts under Steve’s shirt, fingers trailing against his skin and leaving goosebumps along the way.

Steve’s breath catches when he feels Eddie’s touch pause against the line of lace across his back.

“Stevie. What’s this?” Eddie sounds much calmer than he probably is.

“It’s a…bra. It’s a bra.”

Eddie’s forehead falls to Steve’s shoulder blade, and he lets out a huff. It may be a laugh or it may be a sigh, or it may be anything else.

“I don’t know what the hell I did to deserve you, sweetheart.”

His lips are soft against Steve’s neck.

Steve melts further into the blanket, but can’t completely relax until Eddie’s seen– or felt– everything.

“Um, there’s more,” he says as he starts to turn over so he can face Eddie. “And it might be a little weird and it might not even look good anymore because I’ve been hard for most of the night, but-”

Eddie silences him with a kiss to his lips, the taste of the last cigarette he smoked still on his tongue.

He keeps kissing him, even when Steve moans and bucks his hips up, seeking friction that’s easily found. His hand traces the waistband of Steve’s jeans, a fingertip dipping just past the denim to find what Steve’s been hiding.

“Oh.”

Steve smiles nervously. He knows Eddie would never make him feel bad, even if he didn’t happen to like the lingerie, but he’s still nervous. He still wants Eddie to like it, to like the way he fills them out, to like him.

“Can I see?” Eddie asks, eyes wide with awe and cheeks blushing the same pink as Steve’s panties.

Steve nods because he doesn’t think he’ll sound confident if he says anything out loud.

Eddie slides his pants off quickly, but his hands are gentle, almost reverent in the way they glide across Steve’s thighs.

He doesn’t say anything, just gestures for Steve to sit up so he can pull off his shirt.

When Steve’s been stripped down to only pink lace, he’s warm and anxious.

Eddie’s eyes don’t know where to go, zipping from his nipples barely visible through the thick floral pattern covering them down to the see-through wetness of his cock leaking through the thin material. Steve waits for him to say something, can’t interrupt whatever thoughts he’s having right now.

“You look beautiful, Stevie.”

It settles something in him, some last nerves that he knew wouldn’t go away without Eddie’s confirmation that this wasn’t a waste of time or money.

“I do?”

Eddie’s palm cups his cock through the panties. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. When did you get these?”

Steve shrugs because he doesn’t really remember anymore, and even if he did, it’s not important. What matters is that Eddie fucks him while he wears them, and that he goes to buy more on his next trip into the city.

It’s softer than Steve expected.

Eddie’s taking it slow, touching him everywhere, letting his fingers trace the patterns of the lace and smiling when Steve shivers under his attention. He seems mesmerized and Steve feels adored, loved.

Usually, Steve prefers feeling Eddie’s skin against his, but the way his clothed cock brushes against the lace panties, and the way his chest rubs against the bra, it’s a constant reminder that Steve did this to feel nice and for Eddie to look at him.

“Fuck me,” Steve whispers against his lips when he feels his stomach tighten. “Please fuck me.”

“Here? You sure you don’t want me to just suck you off?”

Steve thinks about the people crowded near the coolers and picnic tables not too far away.

“Yeah, here. I need you.”

He knows Eddie can’t resist that.

Now, Eddie’s quick, but no less gentle, as he opens Steve up on his fingers. The lube he keeps in the van is finally getting some use.

Steve arches into it, sighing out the pleasure Eddie gives, keeping as quiet as possible in case someone decides to come back to their car before they finish.

He’s got panties pushed to the side, his precum dribbling onto his stomach, and Eddie’s raspy voice in his ear telling him everything he’s gonna do to him when they’re home. Steve can get off with just this, has gotten off to this before.

“You ready?” Eddie finally asks him, pulling his fingers out so he can wipe them off and get his own pants pulled down.

“Been ready. Could’ve fucked me ten minutes ago,” Steve replies with a smirk.

His head is fuzzy, but the knowledge that they could be caught keeps him present, keeps him aware of everything happening in a way he knows he wouldn’t be if they were in the privacy of his room.

“I don’t like your tone,” Eddie jokes as he lines himself up, pushing the lace further out of the way. “I don’t wanna hurt you. You’re too soft for that tonight.”

“Someone’s feeling sappy,” Steve gasps as Eddie enters him slowly. He lifts his head to watch as Eddie bottoms out, his cock rubbing against the side of the panties. “Fuck.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do.” Eddie groans. “You feel so good. You look so good. I wanna eat you out when we get home.”

Steve nods as his hands grip the blankets. “Yeah. I have a-” Steve whines as Eddie shifts slightly, changing the angle so he brushes against Steve’s prostate. “I have a plug.”

“How the hell did you sneak that in here?”

“Yesterday when you were in the shower,” Steve laughs breathlessly. “Fuck, Eds. So good.”

Eddie is focused now, on not coming or coming, Steve can’t be sure.

“God, you have to wear these all the time,” Eddie groans as his hand creeps up to his chest, thumb rubbing against one of Steve’s nipples. “I want you in every color. Wanna see you in red, and blue, and black, and fuckin’-- what other colors are there?”

Steve giggles. “Purple…yellow…fuck.”

Steve’s gonna come and Eddie’s gonna follow right behind him, he can tell. Eddie’s thrusts are erratic but accurate, always hitting the spot that makes black spots appear in the corner of Steve’s vision and his limbs tingle with warmth and sunshine.

“You’re so good to me, fuck, Stevie. I love you,” Eddie squeezes his thigh as he parts his legs further. “You’re mine.”

“Yours. Yours,” Steve’s head falls back as he shakes through one of the most intense orgasms he’s ever had. He can’t catch his breath, and he feels overstimulated within seconds. “Eddie, need you.”

Eddie always gives him what he needs.

They’re both coming down still when someone bangs on the back door of the van. Steve sits up so quickly, he almost breaks Eddie’s nose.

“Yeah!” Steve yells, pushing Eddie off of him, barely containing a whimper when his cock is no longer filling him.

“If you two wanna get dressed before people start heading to their cars, now would be a good time!” Robin whisper-yells against the door.

“Got it!” Steve yells back, already trying to slide his pants back on despite the mess on his stomach and dripping from his hole.

Eddie places his hands on Steve’s, making him pause for a moment.

“Did you do this for me or for you?” He asks, suddenly shy.

Steve couldn’t help feeling a little proud of the fact that he was maybe the only person Eddie Munson ever got shy around.

“I did it for both of us. And I promise I’ll do it again if you let me get dressed so we don’t get caught.”

Eddie beams at him, kisses his cheek, and starts to pull his own pants back up, wincing when his boxers cling to his sensitive and wet dick.

“We’ve gotta plan better for these things,” he complains.

“I planned just fine.”

“The plug!” Eddie’s eyes widen in panic. “Where is it?”

“We don’t have time,” Steve groans, but he looks over his shoulder at the bag he keeps behind the passenger seat. It’s mostly full of snacks and Tylenol, sometimes a change of clothes if he knows he’s staying with Eddie. Last night he managed to get a plug in there. “Okay! Okay, fine. Just, go start the car.”

Eddie claps his hands together excitedly and grins. “As you wish, my liege.”

Steve rolls his eyes fondly. He reaches down to ease the plug in, biting back a whimper at the soreness he feels. They weren’t even rough tonight, couldn’t be, yet Steve feels like they just went for three rounds.

“If it hurts, don’t do it, sweetheart,” Eddie says from the driver’s seat.

“No, it’s good. I’m good,” he says as he pulls his pants up and slips his shirt on.

Eddie glances over his shoulder and frowns.

“Why the face?” Steve asks.

“I can’t see the lace.”

“Eddie…”

“I know! But I’m speeding on the way home.”

Steve slides into the passenger seat and looks out the window to make sure no one is directly next to them. When he doesn’t see anyone except Robin walking back towards the party, he leans over to kiss Eddie’s cheek.

“Thank you for letting me try something new.”

Eddie blinks over at him. “Thank me? Thank you. Holy shit, Steve. You’ve never been hotter than you are right now.”

“Okay, okay. Drive us home so I can ride you.”

“Fuck. Okay.” Eddie puts both hands on the steering wheel. “Focus, Eddie.”

“You’re such a dork,” Steve laughs.

“I’m living my dream right now.”

Steve can’t agree more.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie smutty september #steddie events #sneaking around #established relationship

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its-not-a-pen · 1 day

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i love the hilarious eunuch ranking system by @welcometothejianghu so i decided to make one based on (mostly) REAL historical chinese enunchs!

in chronological order:

Warring States Period long story short, the PM is sleeping with the Empress Dowager, and he wants to extracate himself before her son (future Emperor Qin Shi Huang) gets old enough to find out. the PM finds her a suitable replacement, and the replacement is attached to a guy named Lao Ai. They pluck his beard and pass him off as a eunuch so he can sneak into the palace. Bing bang boom everyone's happy. This goes terribly wrong later, since Lao Ai tries to replace the emperor with his own kids and stages a failed coup. rest in pieces buddy...

it's very likely that Lao Ai was a ficticious character invented by Sima Qian, who will be appearing on this list later.

Qin Dynasty

Zhao Gao helped the first emperor of China conquer an empire, and administer it efficiently with his legal knowledge, but he also made the second emperor into a puppet, and weakened the empire for his own political gain. Max points of complexity, but you'd get more loyalty out of a coffee club punch card.

Before launching his soft coup, he decided to test the waters by bring in a deer and gaslighted the emperor by calling it a horse. the officials who were loyal to him called it a horse, and he executed the rest.

Han Dynasty Jiru, male favourite of Emperor Gaozu (Liu Bang), the peasant scoundrel who became the founder of the Han Dynasty. look, if the emperor has a harem of hundreds of women and you manage to catch his attention, you max out in style points. simple as. for most of chinese history it was fairly common for high-ranking men, especially eunuchs, to wear make up like powder and rouge, but i decided to give Jiru some women's huadia as well, cause he's a baddie.

Jiru gets a bad rap for alledgely distracting the emperor from his duties, but lets be real, history is written by civil officials who have no shortage of professional jealousy and gender/sexuality related prejudice towards eunuchs, since they were the personal attendants of royalty and could exert a lot of influence. plus Liu Bang was already pissing in the hats of confucian scholars, most of the poor work ethic is on HIM. Jiru should get credit for making him marginally less of a troglodite.

all in all he didn't try any court intrigue so extra points for loyalty and complexity. free my man >:( he's just a Han dynasty Monica Lewinsky who got slutshamed by jealous coworkers >:(

Han Dynasty

meet the father of east asian history, sima qian. half the people on this list can owe their placement here thanks to his extremely though history books "records of the grand historian"

history at this time was mostly "creative writing" and sima qian attempted to give the practise more academic intergrety, he went out and personally interviewed people, tried to get primary sources, and got rid of most of the more fanstastical aspects. however, he was not without his biases and some texts can be seen as allegorical/veiled insults towards the Han Dynasty, especially towards Emperor Wu. unlike most of the people on this list, sima qian was from the gentry and castated later in life as a punishment for treason. he was implicated after trying to defend a friend, and could not pay the fine to commute his sentence. the gentlemen at the time were expected to die by suicide rather than live with such ignimony, but sima qian chose to live so he could finish writing the history book his father started. the "giant conspiracy" joke explained: the chinese word for penis is a homophone for "conspiracy".

#chinese history #eunuchs #qin dynasty #han dynasty #warring states #zhao gao #lao ai #jiru #sima qian

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dcxdpdabbles · 2 days

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Hi! I want to start off by saying that I absolutely ADORE your stories!! ❤️💖💖😁😁😁😁💖💖❤️ And I also really hope you make a series out of the de-aged Captain Marvel au! The potential cuteness and absolute chaos is great!

Tim Drake no longer owned Drake Manor.

When his mother died, it had fallen out of his family's assets as his father had been less than prepared to run the company. When he woke that was.

At the time, Tim had been struggling with the loss and the craziness life had become. Moving to the penthouse was a necessary evil because otherwise, Bruce would have noticed that his "uncle" wasn't around as much. He hadn't really missed the manor, but it was a comfrot to see it there, unchaning since his family fell apart.

He always told himself he would repurchase it, making a mental note whenever he was at Wayne Manor, but he never did for one reason or another. The building remained on the market, but it was considered bad luck among the elites to purchase ancestral homes and the regular populance could never afford it.

Tim would sometimes glance at the manor while driving his motorbike to visit the Waynes. Occasionally, he would stop at the gate, staring at the building and reminiscing.

It would help clear his head on some dark nights. He silently promised himself that when he retired from the field, he would come back home and maybe raise his own family here. It was likely a lie because he couldn't imagine a life without being a vigilante, but it was a nice thought anyway.

He did that today, going for a drive to clear his head and aiming to stop in front of his old home to climb over the fence and sit under the same tree when he realized with a start that the yard had been cleaned up and a group of people were moving items into the building. Yanking out his phone, Tim did a quick search, feeling all the blood drain from his face when the listing now read: SOLD

An overwhelming sense of numbness erupted from his chest as he looked back up, watching the moving crew go to and fro with the belonging of the new owners.

Someone had bought his childhood home. Tim had allowed it to slip through his fingers.

He doesn't have time to process that before a child's laughter has him swinging his head to the top of the gate pillars. There, a boy with bright blue eyes is watching him, eating a giant swirl lollipop.

Tim's heart launches when he realizes how close the child is to tilting over as he yells "Hi mister!"

"Hey there." Tim says as calmly as he can speak."Are you okay up there? You can fall."

"I'm fine. It's really easy to climb up here."

Tim knows. He used the same method to follow Bruce and Jason as a kid. Still, it doesn't make it safe so he steps closer, just incase he needs to catch the kid. It helps, having this distraction from the ache of his mistake in not rebuying Drake Manor.

He ignores the empty sign that the child is leaning against, the faded outline of his family name showing where they removed the metal shapes. He can't handle that right now.

"If you're sure. My name is Tim by the way. What's yours?"

"I'm Billy! I'm five years old! " the boy answers, holding up his hand with a cheer. He gives his lollipop two licks before he gestures at Tim with it."Why are you standing in front of my house?"

"I just.....got curious. You have a pretty house." Tim says as evenly as he can.

"It's super pretty inside, too! My Dad bought it for my Mom and Papa," the boy cheerfully tells him. We move next to my uncle because my Dad says we have to stay close to family."

Wait.

"Bruce Wayne is your uncle?" Tim asks, and the boy nods rapidly. He even points down the street to where Wayne Manor can be viewed from a far distance- neighbors, they may be- the two properties were very vast. "He lives over there with my cousins."

Cousins.

"Oh" Tim hears himself say "That would be me."

Billy eyes sparkle "You're a Wayne?"

"Yes, Tim Drake-Wayne."

"I'm Billy Phantom! Heir to throne!" Billy shouts leaping off the pillar cuasing Tim to launch forward with his arms streach out ready to catch. He hits the ground with a oof but a lack of weight in his hands says he failed to caught Billy.

Not that it mattered as Billy floated in the air harmlessly. Tim glances at the workers to see if anyone has noticed that the boy is apparently a meta, but they don't even look over. Maybe the information was disclosed upon hiring?

"Are you Robin?" Billy says in his face, flouting upside down and staring into Tim's round eyes. He still lays in a heap on the floor, position for a catch and it must make quite a sight to any onlooker. "You look to big to be that one."

Before Tim could even think of an excuse, multicolored rose petals started to fall around them in a dazzling down. It appeared like foral confiti falling from the heavens. Billy flips around to see a pale, beautiful woman dressed in a gothic attire walking toward them.

Behind her, plant life blossoms into a wonderful sight. "Mom!"

"Billy, what did we say about Uncle Bruce's secret?" The lady says, voice musical to the ear.

"But Mom! Only the ghosts are around!" Billy whines, pointing at the moving crew further down the driveway, who have yet to pay attention to them. They didn't care that a goth version of Posion Ivy had strutted by.

"That's no excuse. What would your auntie Jazz say?"

"She says I was not being trustworthy with secrets and other peoples' feelings. I'm sorry." Billy slumps, flouting down to pout on the ground.

"Exactly. Hello Timothy," the woman continues, turning her purple eyes towards the down boy.It's lovely to have family over. "I'm Sam, goddess of the Green. Bruce recommended this place to us. We are excited for the next ten year vacation"

Bruce has a lot to tell him, more then just selling his family house without letting Tim know.

#dcxdpdabbles #Billy Parents #Part 2 #Everlasting trio #Billy meets Tim #Sam is pretty and deadly like a goth rose #Danny and Tucker are rounding around somewhere #Bruce made them neighbors to keep a eye on them #Tim having family feels at first

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romugh · 2 days

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IN HER REFLECTION- nerd!NR

pairing- nerd!natasha romanoff x reader

cw- 18+!!; top!reader, sub!bottom!natasha, fingering, mirror sex, liiiight choking, strap (n rcv), heavy praise kink!!, slight degradation if you squint i guess, natty in subspace!

wc- almost 10k of pure smut? sorry?

a/n- got inspired by a request! and then my brain did something weird and suddenly there's 7k words about natasha taking a strap, but that's not on me. not. on. me. blame the anon! (loved writing your request, feel free to send some more in x)

request- forcing nerdy!nat to look at herself on the mirror while you make her sit on your lap and finger her.

synopsis- natasha had been a brat, so you treat her like one, exploring her desires as she confronts herself in the mirror.

taglist- @esposadejoyhuerta, @lost-mortemanghel - comment or dm if you'd like to be added x

It wasn’t just today that had you on edge. Natasha had been bratting out in the most subtle, infuriating ways for days now, but today she had taken it to another level. She knew exactly how to toe the line—pretending to be her usual innocent, shy self—while leaving just enough doubt in your mind to make you question whether or not she was pushing you intentionally.

The text messages were what really started it.

You’d been in class, trying to focus on a lecture, when the first one came in. It was simple enough: “Hope your class is going well ;)”—completely harmless, right? But you couldn’t shake the feeling there was more to it, especially when you opened it and saw the little winking emoji she’d added at the end. That wink, so out of character for her, made you pause. You stared at your phone, trying to decide whether or not you were imagining things. Natasha didn’t usually send flirty texts, let alone ones with winking emojis.

You could already feel the flicker of heat in your chest, but you pushed it aside and ignored the message, hoping it was just an innocent mistake.

Except it didn’t stop there.

Three hours later, another text came through: “I keep thinking about you today. Can’t focus on anything else.”

And this time, it wasn’t so easy to brush off. Her words were vague enough to be taken as sweet, but your gut told you there was more to it. You could almost imagine her saying those words, the way her voice might sound just a little breathless as she admitted it.

By the third class, you were struggling to concentrate. The way Natasha kept popping into your mind, her texts leaving you on edge, had you feeling more than just a little distracted.

As soon as the lecture ended and you stepped out of the classroom, your phone rang. Natasha.

You picked up, trying to keep your voice casual. “Hey, Natty. Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice soft and shy, but there was something else. A breathlessness. Like she was slightly out of breath. “I was just thinking about you.”

Again, it sounded innocent enough, but the timing, the tone… something about it felt deliberate.

You frowned, trying to make sense of it. "Are you sure you're okay? You’ve been really... attentive today."

“I just miss you,” she murmured, her voice carrying that same soft, almost innocent tone. But underneath it, you could sense that there was more she wasn’t saying.

There was a slight pause on the line, and for a moment, you thought you heard her inhale sharply, like she was trying to catch her breath. It made your pulse spike, sending a ripple of heat through you. You didn’t ask, but the thought crossed your mind—was she…?

No. Natasha was too innocent for that. You knew she wouldn’t touch herself without you.

Still, the way she’d sounded out of breath left you imagining all sorts of scenarios, ones you tried to push away as you focused on getting through the rest of the day.

By the time you got home, her teasing texts and those breathy phone calls had simmered inside you, leaving you wound tight. She was fully aware of her actions, even though she acted like she wasn’t. The winks, the subtle innuendos, the way she kept thinking about you and calling you after every class—it was all part of her game.

And now, here she was, sitting at your dining table, acting like the same sweet, innocent nerd who couldn’t possibly have done anything wrong. Her head tilted slightly as she studied you, still feigning innocence, but there was that glimmer in her eyes, that hint of mischief that sent a fresh surge of frustration through you.

“What’s wrong?” she asked again, her voice sweet but clearly baiting you, her lips curling into the faintest smirk. “Did I do something?”

You exhaled sharply, narrowing your eyes at her. “Don’t play dumb, Natty. You know exactly what you’ve been doing all day.”

She blinked up at you, a blush warming her cheeks, but she didn’t deny it. Instead, she held your gaze, biting her lip as if struggling to suppress a smile, that bratty confidence shining through.

You moved closer, standing directly in front of her now, crossing your arms as you stared down at her. “The texts, the calls… were you just trying to mess with me?”

Her breath hitched slightly, the blush spreading across her cheeks. “I-I wasn’t trying to—”

“Don’t lie,” you interrupted, your tone firm. You leaned in, placing your hands on the arms of her chair, caging her in. “You’ve been bratting out all day, trying to get a reaction. Haven’t you?”

Her eyes widened for a moment, her bravado faltering just slightly. But then, after a beat of silence, she bit her lip and nodded.

“Maybe a little,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, but the admission was clear.

You could feel your pulse quicken, the tension between you crackling like electricity. You knew she was doing this on purpose, trying to push your buttons, trying to test you. But now? Now she was going to find out exactly what happens when she pushes too far.

“You like pushing me, don’t you?” you asked, your voice low and dangerous, watching as her blush deepened even further.

Natasha squirmed slightly in her seat, clearly flustered, but she didn’t look away. “I-I like it when you… when you pay attention to me,” she admitted softly, her voice filled with nervousness and excitement.

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curling into a smirk. “Oh, you have my attention, alright.” You let your hand move to her chin, tilting her head up so she was forced to keep looking at you. “But if you want to keep bratting out, then you’d better be ready to handle what comes next.”

Her breath caught in her throat, her wide eyes locking onto yours. You could see the anticipation swirling there, her nervousness mixing with anticipation as she realised what was about to happen.

“Stand up,” you commanded, your tone leaving no room for argument.

Natasha quickly obeyed, her body trembling slightly as she rose to her feet, her gaze never leaving yours. You could see the flush creeping down her neck, and you knew that under her composed exterior, she was just as affected as you were.

You moved behind her, placing your hands on her shoulders and guiding her toward the mirror on the far wall of the room. She looked confused for a moment, but she didn’t resist.

You positioned her in front of the mirror, your body pressing close to hers from behind, your hands slowly sliding down her arms as you leaned in close to her ear.

“Look at yourself, Natty,” you whispered, your voice low and commanding. “Look at how flushed you are. How much you’ve been teasing me today.”

Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, her eyes fixed on her reflection as you stood behind her, the tension between you thick in the air. She could see it herself too now—the bratty smirk gone, replaced with the vulnerable, needy expression you knew she’d been hiding all day.

“You think you’re so innocent,” you murmured, your hands moving down to rest on her hips. “But you’re not. You’ve been begging for this all day.”

Natasha let out a shaky breath, her eyes flickering between the mirror and the floor, her body trembling under your touch.

“I… I didn’t mean to—”

“Oh, but you did,” you interrupted, your tone soft but firm. “And now, you’re going to take the consequences.” -

You sit on the edge of the bed, facing the mirror in your bedroom with Natasha in your lap. Her back is resting against your front, her body snug against yours. She’s still wearing her panties and your oversized shirt—one she had been using as pyjamas, soft and far too big for her. The image of her in it, slightly dishevelled, only adds to the intimacy of the moment.

She had undressed you earlier, her hands tentative but eager, slowly pulling off each piece of clothing until you were left bare. Her fingers had lingered on your skin, tracing over your chest, arms, and thighs with a delicate touch, as if still unsure of her own boldness. Now, the warmth of her bare back pressing against your chest feels both grounding and electrifying.

The oversized shirt hangs loosely off her shoulders, the fabric falling down past her thighs, barely covering anything. Her skin glows in the dim light of the room, and the way her chest rises and falls with each shallow breath betrays the nerves bubbling inside her. You can feel her heartbeat thudding softly against your chest, her anticipation palpable.

With one hand resting on her waist, you reach for the hem of the shirt. Your fingers brush lightly against her skin, and you feel the shiver that runs down her spine. "Let’s get rid of this," you murmur softly into her ear. She tenses for a moment, but she doesn’t object, only nodding slightly in agreement.

You tug the shirt upwards, brushing it over her shoulders and guiding her arms out of the sleeves. Her skin is warm beneath your touch, and when the shirt is finally discarded, it leaves her sitting there in nothing but her panties, vulnerable and exposed in the dim light of the room.

The soft blush on her cheeks deepens, her eyes glancing away from the mirror in front of you as she tries to hide her embarrassment. But there’s no hiding now—not when you’re both like this.

"Look at yourself," you say gently, your voice soft but firm. Your fingers lift her chin, tilting her head slightly so she’s forced to meet her own reflection in the mirror. Her wide eyes flicker nervously, trying to focus on anything but the image staring back at her. But you don’t let her turn away.

"Look at how beautiful you are," you continue, your hand sliding down her bare stomach, feeling the soft skin beneath your fingertips. She trembles slightly, her body pressing further into you for comfort. The sight of her like this—vulnerable, unsure, and so soft—makes your heart ache with affection.

Her breathing hitches as your hand travels lower, tracing over the waistband of her panties. She’s already wet—you can feel it through the fabric—and the knowledge sends a thrill down your spine. You slide your hand under the waistband, teasing her with the lightest of touches.

"You’re already so wet for me," you murmur, pressing a finger against her slick entrance. Natasha gasps softly, her body jerking in your lap. Her hips shift instinctively, trying to push against your hand, but you hold her steady.

"Keep looking," you remind her, tilting her chin up again as you tear her panties away with a swift motion, leaving her exposed to the mirror. "I want you to watch every second."

Her breath comes in soft, shaky pants as you slide a single finger inside her. Her walls flutter around you, the slick heat welcoming your touch, but she’s so tight, so sensitive. She bites her lip, trying to stifle the whimper that escapes her, but you catch it anyway.

"Tell me how it feels," you coax her gently, your lips brushing against the shell of her ear.

"It feels… good," she whispers, her voice trembling. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes half-lidded as she watches the reflection of herself in your lap, back pressed against you, utterly at your mercy. She’s barely holding on to her own control, the sensation already overwhelming her.

You add another finger, stretching her slightly, and her body tenses. She lets out a soft moan, her head falling back against your shoulder as you continue to move inside her. The wet sounds of your fingers sliding in and out of her fill the room, and her reflection shudders at the sound. Her hips rock involuntarily against your hand, desperate for more friction.

"Look at yourself," you whisper again, your voice a mix of command and praise. "Look at how beautiful you are when you’re falling apart so fast."

Natasha’s eyes flutter open, her gaze locking onto the reflection, and the sight makes her blush even deeper. She watches herself being fingered, cheeks flushed, lips parted as soft gasps fall from her mouth. She’s trembling in your lap already, her hips moving slightly, but she’s still shy, still struggling to meet her own gaze.

"Don’t hide from me," you murmur, curling your fingers inside her, causing her to whimper. "I want to see you, hear you. I want you to see yourself."

Her chest rises sharply as the pleasure builds, and her body reacts to every small movement of your hand. The intensity of it is written all over her face—her soft moans, the way her legs tremble in your lap, the way she tries so hard to maintain her composure but can’t.

You pick up the pace, curling your fingers just right, and Natasha’s breath hitches. Her hips jerk forward, her body writhing as the pleasure starts to take over. She’s close now, her walls tightening around your fingers, her moans growing louder as her body shudders in your arms.

"That’s it," you praise softly. "You’re doing so well."

It doesn’t take long before Natasha falls apart completely. Her orgasm hits her in waves, her body trembling violently as she gasps for air, her reflection a beautiful, trembling mess. Her walls clamp down on your fingers, and she lets out a loud moan, unable to hold back any longer. You keep your pace steady, letting her ride out the full extent of her climax.

"Good girl," you whisper, kissing her temple as she leans back against you, her body spent. "You’re so perfect."

For a moment, you think she might be done, her breathing heavy and her body limp against yours. But then, she surprises you.

"I want more," she whispers breathlessly, her voice barely audible. There’s a neediness to her tone, a desperation for something deeper, more intense.

You pull your fingers out slowly, watching as her body twitches at the sudden emptiness. She’s still trembling, her slick heat clinging to your fingers. "Are you sure?" you ask, your voice gentle but firm, wanting to be absolutely certain.

Natasha nods, biting her lip as she gazes at you in the mirror, cheeks flushed and eyes still glassy from her orgasm. You position three fingers at her entrance, and her breath catches in her throat. She’s never taken that much before, and the nervousness is evident in her expression. But she trusts you—completely.

With slow, deliberate movements, you push three fingers inside her, feeling the stretch and the tightness as she struggles to take all of you. Natasha lets out a sharp gasp, her body tensing, but you’re patient, whispering soothing words of encouragement into her ear.

"Just breathe," you murmur, one hand resting on her waist to ground her. "You’re doing so well, Natty."

Gradually, her body adjusts to the stretch, and the burn begins to melt into pleasure. She’s panting now, her walls fluttering around your fingers as she finally takes all three. Her hips begin to move again, her body seeking out the pleasure despite the overwhelming sensation of being stretched so deliciously. The sensation is intoxicating, and she could easily get addicted to it—the way her pussy clenches around you, taking you in, while she watches herself in the mirror, captivated by the sight.

"That’s it," you praise, your voice low and soothing as you curl your fingers inside her. Natasha’s moans grow louder, her hips rocking against your hand as she loses herself in the pleasure, her reflection shaking and flushed with arousal.

Natasha’s hips move restlessly, grinding down onto your hand as her breath comes in shallow gasps. Her body feels like it’s on fire—every nerve alight with the intense pleasure that your fingers are pulling from her. She’s still trembling, her chest rising and falling erratically as she fights to stay grounded, but it’s slipping away from her with every passing second.

The mirror reflects everything—her flushed face, the way her thighs quiver, craving more of you, even though there’s nothing more to take. Her body tightens and relaxes, caught in a desperate struggle to maintain control over herself. But she’s slipping. She’s losing herself in you, in the way you fill her completely, in the overwhelming need that her body can’t seem to satiate.

Her thoughts blur, everything hazy and distant except for the overwhelming need that pulses through her. There’s no space for anything but the intense sensations, the pleasure so deep and raw it’s almost painful. Her mind can’t focus on anything but the feel of your fingers inside her, the way they stretch her, fill her, the pressure growing until it’s too much.

“I-I can’t—" Natasha gasps, her voice trembling as she tries to form a coherent sentence, but she can’t finish it. Her head falls back against your shoulder, her eyes slipping shut as her body jerks again, a sharp moan escaping her lips.

"You can," you murmur softly, your free hand sliding up to caress her thigh, your voice gentle yet firm. "You’re doing so well, Natty. Just breathe. Let go. I’ve got you."

Her breath catches at your words, the praise hitting her in a way that makes her twitch even more. It’s as if every word of encouragement digs deeper into her mind, making her desperate to please you. She wants to take more, to be good for you, to show you just how much she can handle, how much she needs you.

Her hips jerk forward again, her body trying to pull you even deeper, but it’s still not enough. It’s never enough.

"I want to... please you," Natasha whispers, her voice breathy and weak, barely audible above her own moans. Her fingers clench at the sheets, her body trembling uncontrollably as she rocks back against you, but she’s so far gone that she’s not even sure of what she’s asking anymore.

"You are pleasing me," you whisper, lips brushing against the soft skin of her neck. "You’re perfect, princess. You’re everything I want."

Her breath hitches, her heart pounding as she hears your words, and she can’t help the soft whimper that escapes her. The praise makes her head spin, makes her want more, makes her want to be everything for you.

As you worked her open, the world around you faded into a blur. Natasha’s breathy whimpers filled the space between you, mixing with the steady rhythm of your fingers. The burn and stretch she felt was becoming a delicious ache, one that ignited something deeper within her.

“Just a little more,” you coaxed, your voice a low murmur as you continued to move inside her. “You’re doing so well, Natty.” The praise slipped from your lips like honey, sweet and thick, wrapping around her as she began to surrender to the sensations.

With a deep inhale, Natasha’s eyes fluttered closed, and for a moment, the tension in her body dissolved completely. She began to rock her hips, slowly at first, testing the waters, but soon it transformed into something more urgent, more desperate. You could feel the weight of her trust, a gift that was both intoxicating and thrilling.

Then, without warning, she surprised you. Natasha shifted her weight, driving your fingers deeper inside her as she began to ride them, her movements instinctive, almost primal. The way her body responded to you was mesmerising. Each rise and fall was a dance, her movements fluid and graceful, yet filled with an undeniable hunger.

“Oh my God,” you breathed, utterly captivated by the sight before you. The way she looked, the way she felt—it was overwhelming. The flush of her cheeks deepened, a beautiful shade of crimson, contrasting against the gentle curves of her body. Her eyes, once filled with uncertainty, now sparkled with a wild abandon that made your heart race.

With every thrust of her hips, you could feel the warmth of her surrounding your fingers, enveloping them in a slick, delicious heat. The way she took you deeper, riding your fingers like she was trying to chase down that elusive high—it sent a surge of primal instinct through you. You wanted to guide her, to push her further, but she was taking the lead, and you were powerless to stop it.

“Natasha,” you murmured, your voice thick with desire. “You’re so beautiful like this.”

At your words, her eyes snapped open, locking onto yours in the mirror. There was a glint of something—was it pure submission?—in her gaze that sent a shiver down your spine. She looked so captivating, the way her body moved in tandem with your fingers, her breasts rising and falling with each breath, the soft swell visible through her shirt. You could feel your pulse quicken, blood rushing to your ears as the sight of her lost in pleasure ignited a fire within you.

“Does it feel good?” you asked, wanting to hear her voice, to feel her pleasure wrap around you like a warm embrace.

“Yes,” she gasped, her voice a breathless whisper. “So good.”

You could see the way her body tensed, the slight tremors that coursed through her as she adjusted to the rhythm. The way she leaned backward, pressing her back into your front, gave you an even better view of your fingers disappearing into her. Her sweat clung to her skin, highlighting the curves you wanted to worship.

“Just like that, Natty. You’re perfect.”

Her breath hitched at your words, and she pushed her hips down harder, eager to feel you filling her. Each time your fingers brushed against that sweet spot deep inside her, she gasped, the sound filled with pure ecstasy. The way she rode you, her body moving with both urgency and grace, was hypnotising. She wanted more, her mind hazy from the pleasure, she needed more.

“Look at yourself,” you urged, your voice low and sultry. “Look at how you’re losing yourself in this. How beautiful you are.”

As she gazed into the mirror, you saw a flicker of vulnerability, mixed with a newfound confidence. The tension in her body began to shift, the way she moved becoming more fluid, more assured. The flush on her cheeks deepened, and her mouth fell open in a long moan, the sound reverberating in the silence of the room.

“I—oh God,” she stuttered, her body beginning to tremble as you curled your fingers, hitting that sweet spot again and again. “I can’t… Please–I need more.”

“It’s okay,” you reassured her, your voice steady, not knowing just how serious she was. “Just let go. Trust me, Natty.”

And as if your words had cast a spell, she surrendered completely. You could see it in her eyes—the moment she slipped into subspace. The tension that had held her so tightly began to unravel, the trust she placed in you lifting her higher than she’s ever been before.

“Please,” she begged, her voice thick with need. “I want more.”

You felt a surge of pride, knowing that you were the one to take her there, to help her explore these depths. “You want more, huh?” you teased lightly, relishing in the power dynamic that flowed between you.

“Yes,” she gasped, her hips working furiously against your hand, every movement driven by instinct. The way her body tightened around you, her walls squeezing your fingers, made your breath hitch in your throat.

“Such a good girl for me,” you praised, watching as her eyes fluttered closed once more, a blissful expression painting her features. The way she was losing herself, riding your fingers with reckless abandon, filled you with an overwhelming need to see her reach her peak.

“Keep going, Natty. I want to see you come undone,” you encouraged, your voice dropping to a low, sultry whisper that wrapped around her like a warm blanket.

With each thrust, you felt her teetering on the edge, her body trembling with pleasure. “I’m so close,” she panted, her voice shaking with need.

“Let go for me,” you urged, your fingers never faltering, coaxing her closer to that precipice. “You can do it. I’m right here.”

In that moment, you felt her walls tighten one last time, her body quaking as she finally surrendered to the waves of pleasure crashing over her. “I—oh God!” she cried, the sound filled with pure bliss as she fell over the edge.

As her orgasm washed over her, you could see the way her body tensed and relaxed, the euphoric release igniting every nerve ending. You held her tightly, guiding her through it, feeling every pulse, every quiver as she rode out the waves of ecstasy.

Natasha was deep in subspace, the remnants of her first orgasm still coursing through her like a gentle wave. Her breaths were slow and steady, but the way she clung to you—her fingers gripping your arms tightly—betrayed the excitement bubbling beneath her surface. She was in a world all her own, a place where she felt safe, vulnerable, and strangely empowered.

You watched her through the mirror, captivated by the way her expression shifted from blissful surrender to a shy longing. Her cheeks were still flushed, and her eyes sparkled with something you recognized as desire, but there was a hesitation there, too. It was a mix of trust and uncertainty, and it only made you want her more.

“Can I…?” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with a shy eagerness. “Can I have your cock?”

The request sent a thrill through you. “You want my strap?” you asked, your voice low and teasing. You were ready to give her anything, but you wanted to draw out the moment, to enjoy this shift in power dynamics.

“Y-Yeah,” she stammered, biting her lip, her innocence suddenly seeming more pronounced in the heat of the moment. “Please?”

You nodded, a grin spreading across your face. “Alright. Just let me choose one for you.” You reached for the drawer to your left, excitement bubbling in your chest as you pulled out various options. As you displayed them, you couldn’t help but notice the way Natasha’s eyes widened and her breath quickened.

But when you picked up one of the smaller straps, she shook her head vigorously. “No! I want the biggest one.”

Your brows shot up in surprise. “The biggest one? Are you sure about that?” You hadn’t even used it before—it was something your friends had gifted you as a joke, but here was Natasha, deep in subspace and adamant about wanting it.

“I’m sure,” she insisted, her voice a mixture of shyness and determination, almost as if she was testing the boundaries of her own desires. The way she bit her lip again, uncertainty creeping into her gaze, made your heart race. “Please.”

You couldn’t resist her. There was something so endearing about her shy insistence, her innocence shining through even as she pushed her own limits. “Alright, then. It’s in the other drawer, baby. But you have to promise me you’ll tell me if it’s too much.”

“Promise,” she replied, her gaze unwavering, the trust in her eyes melting any reservations you had.

With a nod, she hopped off your lap, her legs slightly wobbly but her determination shining through. She moved to the drawer, reaching inside to retrieve the oversized strap. You couldn’t help but admire the way she handled it, her shyness somehow making her seem even more alluring.

When she returned, her cheeks were bright red, and her hands trembled slightly as she held the strap. “I want it,” she stated, her voice firm but still laced with a hint of innocence. You could see how deep into the mindset she was, yet her shyness made this moment feel even more intimate.

“Alright, sweetheart,” you said softly, your voice reassuring as you got up. “But let’s take it slow. I want you to enjoy every moment.”

After you had stepped into the harness and adjusted the 12-inch strap, you moved toward the bed, but Natasha lingered behind, not immediately following. Her blush deepened as she stood by the mirror, her gaze falling shyly before she finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper, “Can you... take me where I can see myself?”

Her words caught you off guard, but the longing in her eyes made your chest tighten. “Are you sure?” you asked softly, needing to ensure she was comfortable with what she was asking.

She nodded, her eyes flicking between you and the mirror. “I’m sure,” she breathed, her lips parting with a mix of anticipation and uncertainty.

You smiled, nodding as you guided her back to your previous position. Natasha settled onto your lap again, shifting just a bit higher onto your abs, her back pressed against your chest while the strap nestled against her stomach. The strap was secured snugly to your hips, its impressive length and girth nearly brushing her navel when she sat up straight. The sight alone made your pulse quicken, but you couldn’t help but wonder if she’d be able to take it all.

You rested your hands on her waist, offering a gentle squeeze. “Let’s go slow, okay?” you murmured, feeling the warmth of her body against yours. “We’ll take it one step at a time.”

She bit her lip nervously, her eyes wide with both eagerness and hesitation as she moved up, situated herself and began to lower herself back down. The tip of the strap nudged against her entrance, and she let out a soft gasp, her thighs trembling with the effort.

“Relax, Nat,” you whispered, guiding her down slowly. “Breathe.”

She nodded, exhaling shakily as she sank down a little more, the stretch becoming apparent as she took in the first few inches. Her brow furrowed, her body tensing as she tried to adjust to the sensation. “It’s... it’s so big,” she stammered, her voice laced with both excitement and uncertainty.

“I know, sweetheart,” you reassured her, your hands steady on her waist. “You don’t have to take it all at once. Just take what you can.”

Natasha’s breath hitched as she lowered herself a bit more, her body stretching around the strap. The burn of the stretch was evident in the way her thighs quivered and her soft whimpers filled the air. She could barely take a quarter of it, and even then, she paused, her chest heaving with effort. The sheer girth of the strap made it appear enormous, and you were astonished she was able to take this much of you.

“You’re doing so well, Natty,” you praised, your voice gentle but filled with pride. “You don’t have to rush. You’re perfect like this.”

She exhaled slowly, nodding as she leaned back against you. “It feels... different,” she murmured, her hands gripping your arms for support. “But I like it. I just... I want to take more.”

Your breath caught at her words. “You will,” you said softly, brushing your lips against her shoulder. “But let’s go at your pace.”

For a few moments, she stayed there, hovering on the strap, her body adjusting to the stretch. The sight of her reflection in the mirror—her flushed cheeks, her parted lips, the way her body clung to the strap—was almost too much to handle. But you stayed focused, rubbing gentle circles into her hips to keep her grounded.

Then, as if something shifted in her, Natasha began to move again, slowly lowering herself down further. Inch by inch, she took more of you, her body trembling with the effort but her determination unwavering. You could feel her pulse around you, the heat of her arousal making every movement slicker, easier. Still, she hadn’t taken it all—just over halfway—and the sight of the strap glistening as it nestled within her was mesmerising. The sight of her slick coating the parts she hadn’t taken yet had you hypnotised, utterly drunk on desire.

“I... I can feel it,” she whimpered, her voice breathy and thick with pleasure. “I think I can take more.”

“You’re doing so well,” you murmured against her ear, your hands holding her steady as she tried to sink lower. “Just like that, Natty. You’re amazing.”

Time seemed to blur as she kept moving, her breath ragged, her movements tentative but eager. And then, after a while, you realised Natasha had been taking more and more of you. Your eyes flicked to the mirror, watching in awe as the strap slowly disappeared into her, the stretch making her body quiver with every inch.

She still hadn’t taken it all—just a quarter left—but the sight of her reflection, of how much of you was inside her, made your control slip.

“God, look at you,” you breathed, unable to hold back. Your hands slid from her waist, moving upwards to cup her breasts, kneading them gently as she moaned under your touch. “You’re so beautiful, Natty. Taking me so well.”

Her breath hitched as you massaged her breasts, her nipples hardening against your palms. “I... I’m trying so hard,” she whimpered, her voice breaking. “I want to take it all... I want to please you.”

“You are,” you reassured her, your fingers teasing her nipples as you pressed your hips up slightly, deepening the stretch. “You’re doing so good, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, her body melting into your touch. She leaned back into your chest, her head resting on your shoulder as she focused on the sensation of you filling her up. The praise made her moan, her thighs shaking as she tried to sink down even further.

“Just a little more,” you coaxed, your voice husky. “You’ve got this. You’re perfect.”

Your gaze wandered back to the mirror, entranced by the image of Natasha’s flushed, needy expression and the reflection of your bodies joined together. But then something else caught your eye—a bulge pressing against her lower stomach. It was the outline of the strap inside her, stretching her so much that it was visible through her skin.

The sight made your breath catch, something primal snapping inside you. You hadn’t even realised how far you’d pushed her, how deep the strap had gone until you saw that bulge—and it ignited a fire in you that was impossible to contain.

Your grip on her breasts tightened momentarily, then slid down to her waist again. Natasha let out a soft gasp of confusion as your hands left her chest, only to clamp down firmly on her hips, pulling her down onto you in one swift, overwhelming motion.

Her eyes flew open, a sharp cry escaping her lips as her body was forced to take the rest of the strap all at once. The sheer girth stretched her impossibly wide, her thighs trembling violently as you thrust your hips up at the same time, slamming the last bit deep into her core.

“Fuck,” you groaned, the word dripping with unrestrained lust as you felt the full weight of Natasha's body sink down onto you. The strap filled her completely, the bulge in her stomach more pronounced now as you both struggled to breathe, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

“I-I can feel it,” Natasha whimpered, her voice trembling as she struggled to catch her breath. “I can feel all of you.”

“You’re doing so good, baby,” you whispered, your voice rough with desire. “Look at you... taking all of me.”

Natasha's head was against your shoulder, her eyes wide and unfocused as her entire body shook from the overwhelming sensation. She’d never felt this full before; the sensation made her feel like she was on the verge of breaking—and yet, the pleasure was undeniable. She loved it. The overwhelming stretch, the sheer size of the strap filled her in ways she’d never experienced. Her thighs shook violently, her breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps, and then you saw it—tears.

Her eyes, already glassy with pleasure, began to well as she lifted herself up and then sank fully back onto you. The tears spilled over, streaming down her flushed cheeks, her lips parted as soft, broken whimpers escaped her. She was so deep into subspace, so lost in the haze of sensation and submission that her body didn’t know how to react. All she could do was feel.

You watched her, completely captivated by the sight of her like this—so vulnerable, so beautiful, her skin glistening with sweat, her cheeks stained with tears. It made your heart ache with an almost possessive kind of affection.

“There you go,” you whispered, your voice low and tender as your hands moved from her waist to cup her cheeks, gently wiping away her tears with your fingers while using the reflection as a guide. “You’re doing so well, baby. Look at you, taking it all. You’re perfect.”

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breath catching in her throat as she struggled to comprehend your words. The praise washed over her like a warm blanket, pulling her deeper into that fuzzy, blissed-out space. But the tears didn’t stop. If anything, they flowed even more freely now, her lips quivering as she let out another soft sob.

“Too much?” you asked, though you knew from the way her body clung to yours, the way she kept sinking down further and further, that she wasn’t going to stop. “Or do you like it, hmm? You like being so full of me?”

Her response was almost incoherent, a soft whimper and a nod, her head lolling against your shoulder as she tried to gather herself. The praise was affecting her so deeply, every word sinking into her foggy brain and amplifying the pleasure until she didn’t know what to do with herself.

But then you leaned closer, your lips brushing against her ear, and you let your voice dip into something more commanding, more degrading.

“Look at you,” you murmured, your tone taking on a sharper edge. “Crying just because you’re so full. You’re such a pretty little thing, aren’t you? You can barely handle it, and yet here you are... taking all of me like a good girl.”

Natasha whimpered again, her entire body flushing deep red as the words cut through the haze in her mind. She didn’t fully understand them—her brain was too fuzzy, too far gone—but the tone, the way you said it, made her blush even harder. It was a mix of praise and something else, something darker, and it sent shivers down her spine.

“I... I’m trying,” she mumbled, her voice shaky, her lips trembling. “I’m trying so hard to be good.”

“You are good,” you reassured her, your hands moving back to her waist again, gripping her firmly as you pulled her down onto the strap again. “You’re so fucking good, Nat. So perfect for me. Taking it all like such a good girl.”

Her breath hitched as you moved her, her body too weak to resist, too deep in the pleasure to even think of stopping you. Her mind was spinning, her body trembling, and the tears kept flowing. She didn’t even know why she was crying anymore. Maybe it was the overwhelming sensation of being filled so completely, or maybe it was the praise that made her heart ache with need.

“You’re so beautiful,” you continued, your voice softer now as you kissed the side of her neck, your hands still guiding her hips. “So beautiful when you cry for me.”

The tears kept coming, her body shaking with quiet sobs, but her hips kept moving, kept following your lead as you pushed her down again and again. She didn’t stop, didn’t want to stop. The pain and pleasure mixed together, a heady cocktail of sensations that had her spiralling deeper into submission.

“I don’t know if you can take me much longer,” you teased, your lips brushing against her ear as you spoke. “But you want to, don’t you? You want to be good for me.”

Natasha could barely form a response now, her head spinning with the intensity of it all. She nodded, her cheeks burning with embarrassment and need, her brain too fuzzy to process everything. But she knew one thing for certain: she wanted to make you happy. She wanted to please you, even if it meant pushing herself to the edge of her limits, even further than now.

“Yes,” she whimpered, her voice barely a whisper, her head falling back against your shoulder. “I want to... I want to make you happy.”

“You are,” you murmured, your tone laced with approval as you squeezed her waist, your eyes glued to her reflection in the mirror. “You’re making me so happy, sweet angel. Look at yourself. Look how good you’re doing.”

Her gaze flicked to the mirror, and she moaned at the sight. The strap pushed deep inside her, creating a visible bulge in her stomach that moved with each thrust. Her skin was flushed, hair damp with sweat, and her cheeks streaked with tears. She looked completely wrecked—and yet, so incredibly beautiful.

“You see that?” you asked, your voice thick with lust as your hands slid up her stomach, pressing down on the bulge gently. “Look how full you are, baby. You’re so perfect like this.”

The praise, the sensation, everything was too much for her. Natasha’s mind was a blur of pleasure and pain, her body stretched beyond what she thought she could take, and yet she wanted more. She needed more. Even if her body was trembling, even if the tears wouldn’t stop, she needed to make you proud.

“I’m... I’m so full,” she whimpered, her hands resting right above yours on her lower stomach, feeling the bulge there, her face bright red as she looked at herself in the mirror. “It’s so much...”

“You can take it,” you growled, your hands moving from her waist to her breasts, massaging them roughly as you thrust your hips up again. “You’ve already taken all of me, Nat. You’re doing so good. So fucking good.”

The praise hit her like a tidal wave, making her moan as her body convulsed in your lap. She was too far gone to even process the words properly, her brain fuzzy and overwhelmed, but she nodded anyway, tears still streaming down her cheeks as she whispered, “Thank you...”

“Such a good girl,” you purred, your hands squeezing her breasts as your lips brushed against her ear again. “You love this, don’t you? Being full, being praised... You’re perfect, Nat. Absolutely perfect.”

Her body trembled at the words, her eyes fluttering shut as she let out a soft, broken sob. She didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know how to process all the feelings swirling inside her, but one thing stayed clear in her mind—she wanted to make you proud. She needed to. And she would.

Natasha’s body shuddered violently, her breath hitching in sharp, desperate gasps as she tried to stay grounded. But you could feel the way she was clenching around you, her inner muscles spasming uncontrollably as her body teetered on the edge.

You shifted your hips upward, thrusting the strap even deeper inside her. The rough movement sent a jolt through her entire body, and that was it—Natasha couldn’t hold on any longer. Her third orgasm ripped through her with devastating force, her legs trembling uncontrollably as she let out a loud, broken moan, her body convulsing in your lap.

“There it is,” you murmured, your voice thick with satisfaction as your hands tightened on her waist. “That’s it, Nat. You feel so good when you come for me.”

Natasha’s head lolled back against your shoulder, her body sagging against yours as she came hard, her walls tightening around the strap, her muscles clenching and releasing in frantic waves. Her hands scrabbled for purchase, one gripping your thigh while the other pressed against the mirror as if trying to steady herself, but she couldn’t. She was completely lost in it.

The tears that were already spilling down her cheeks came faster now, mingling with the sweat that coated her skin, her lips trembling as sobs of pleasure wracked her body. She was overwhelmed, her mind completely submerged in the sensation, but even through the haze of subspace, she kept moving—kept riding your strap, desperate to please you, desperate to be good.

“There you go,” you whispered, guiding her gently as she shook in your lap. “Just let go. I’ve got you.”

The praise sent another wave of pleasure crashing through her, and she moaned, her body responding without thought, without control. Her hips bucked, the muscles in her thighs spasming as her fourth orgasm hit her before she had fully come down from the previous one. It was too much. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t stop her body from convulsing as she rode out the wave after wave of pleasure that seemed to keep rolling through her.

“Oh god, oh god,” Natasha gasped, her voice barely audible between her sobs. “I can’t... I can’t stop...”

“You don’t need to stop,” you reassured her, your voice low and soothing even as your hands gripped her tighter, pulling her back onto your strap as she tried to squirm away from the overwhelming sensation. “You’re doing so good, baby. You’re perfect.”

Her sobs turned to wails, absolute filth escaping her mouth, her entire body trembling as her next orgasm crashed into her like a tidal wave. She couldn’t hold herself together anymore, her body completely out of her control. Her hips jerked, moving on instinct as she ground down against you, her walls squeezing the strap so tightly that you could feel the tension all the way through your core.

The sight of her in the mirror drove you wild—the way her stomach bulged from the size of the strap, her breasts bouncing with each desperate movement, and the tears that continued to spill down her cheeks. She looked utterly destroyed, so beautifully wrecked, her skin flushed and glistening, her lips parted as broken moans and whimpers slipped from her mouth.

“Fuck, look at you,” you growled, your hands exploring every inch of her skin, fingers digging into her softness as you continued to thrust deeper with increasing force. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Nat. You’re so full.”

Natasha just whimpered, her breath hitching as her body responded to your rougher touch. She was so deep in subspace now, so far gone, that she couldn’t even register the words you were saying, but she could feel them—the way they made her body react, the way her muscles tightened and trembled under your hands. She nodded, her head falling forward, her eyes glassy and distant as she let out another soft sob.

“I... I want to be good,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath as she tried to steady herself. “I want... I want to make you happy.”

“You are good,” you whispered back, your voice a mix of praise and possessiveness as you kept pulling her down harder onto the strap. “You’re fucking perfect, Nat. You’re making me so proud.”

The praise sent another wave of pleasure crashing through her, and suddenly, Natasha was coming again—her body convulsing in your lap as her next orgasm hit her with even more intensity than the last. Her hands pressed against the mirror, her palms flat against the glass as she sobbed, her entire body trembling uncontrollably.

“You’re doing so good,” you murmured, your hands sliding up from her waist to her breasts again, squeezing them as she convulsed in your lap. “Look at you. Look at how beautiful you are when you come.”

Natasha’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze fixing on the mirror, and the sight of herself—flushed, sweaty, tear-streaked, and utterly wrecked—sent another shudder through her. She moaned, her hips jerking as her body tried to keep up with the pleasure, her mind too fuzzy to process it all.

“I... I still can’t stop,” she whimpered, her voice thick with need. “It’s too much...”

“I know, baby,” you cooed, your voice dripping with approval as you massaged her breasts, your thumbs brushing over her nipples. “You’re doing so good. Just let go. Let me take care of you.”

Her body obeyed without question, her hips moving on their own as she sank down onto the strap again, her walls clenching around it as another orgasm built inside her. She was completely lost to it now, her mind a haze of pleasure and submission, her body trembling as she came again and again, each orgasm rolling into the next until she didn’t know where one ended and the other began.

“Such a good girl,” you murmured, your hands sliding down to her waist again as you thrust up into her with more force. “You’re taking me so well, Nat. You’re perfect.”

Natasha’s response was a soft, broken sob, her body collapsing against you as the pleasure overwhelmed her completely. She was gone, completely lost in subspace, her mind a blur of sensations and praise, and all she could do was ride it out, her body trembling in your lap as you guided her through each wave of pleasure.

Natasha’s body continued to tremble against yours, her breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps, her chest heaving with the effort. The storm of pleasure was still coursing through her, but her hips had stilled, no longer able to move after the relentless waves of orgasms that had wracked her body.

You could feel the twitching of her muscles, the way her body clenched around the strap still buried deep inside her, but she wasn’t grinding and you weren’t thrusting anymore. She was utterly spent, her head resting against your shoulder, her tears still trickling down her flushed cheeks as she tried to catch her breath.

Gently, you loosened your grip on her waist, moving your hands with deliberate care as you wrapped your arms around her trembling form. Natasha whimpered softly as you pulled her close, her body still so sensitive, every slight movement sending aftershocks rippling through her.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, your voice soft and soothing now, a stark contrast to the intensity that had filled the air just moments before. “You did so good, Natty baby. Just breathe.”

Natasha’s body relaxed a little in your hold, though she was still shaking, her limbs twitching with the lingering ecstasy that coursed through her. She made a small, broken sound—half a sob, half a whimper—as her body gave in fully, collapsing against you, completely spent. You cradled her carefully, holding her close, one hand stroking her arm while the other stayed on her breast, grounding her in your touch.

“I’ve got you,” you whispered again, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. “You’re safe. You’re perfect.”

She let out a shaky breath, her head lolling to the side as her eyes fluttered closed, her mind still foggy from the intensity of everything. You could feel the way her heartbeat was gradually slowing, the frantic rhythm calming as you continued to hold her, shushing her softly, letting her know she wasn’t alone in this vulnerable moment.

Your hand on her breast moved gently, tracing soft circles around her nipple, a grounding sensation to remind her she was safe in your arms. Her body twitched under your touch, her chest still heaving, but she didn’t try to move away. She stayed nestled against you, letting the warmth of your embrace calm her.

“You’re okay, Natty,” you murmured softly, your lips brushing against her ear. “Just stay with me. I’ve got you.”

She nodded weakly, her body sagging further into your lap, her legs spread open as she remained impaled on the strap. It was a quiet, intimate moment now—no longer about the intensity of lust but about something deeper, more tender. Her body was twitching from the aftershocks, the occasional clench around the strap still reminding you of how deep you were inside her, but she wasn’t trying to take more. She was just… being.

Natasha let out another shaky breath, her fingers gripping your arm as if to anchor herself. The tears that had been flowing earlier were slowing, but her face remained wet, her cheeks flushed and streaked with saltwater. You watched her closely in the mirror, your gaze softening as you took in the sight of her—completely vulnerable, completely yours.

“There you go,” you whispered, brushing your thumb gently across her cheek, wiping away the remnants of her tears. “You’re so beautiful, Natty. So perfect.”

She whimpered softly at the praise, her eyes fluttering open for just a moment before they closed again. Her breathing was slowly evening out, the shaky gasps becoming steadier as you held her close, your hands moving in gentle, soothing motions. You could feel her muscles slowly unclenching, her body relaxing into you, no longer overwhelmed by the intensity of the pleasure.

“It’s okay now,” you whispered, resting your chin on her shoulder as you held her tighter. “Just breathe with me.”

You stayed like that for a while, the two of you wrapped in each other, the room filled with nothing but the sound of your quiet breaths and the faint hum of the world outside. The strap was still inside her, but it was a comfort—something grounding for her as she came down from the high of subspace.

Natasha’s body, though still trembling, seemed to relax even further, her head turning slightly as she nestled into your neck. She was quiet now, her soft whimpers replaced with gentle sighs, her body twitching occasionally but no longer driven by the need to move. She was content to just be held, to let you take care of her.

You pressed another soft kiss to her hair, your hands still stroking her arms and chest, reminding her that you were there—that you had her.

“You’re so good for me,” you whispered, your voice barely audible now, a quiet affirmation that she didn’t need to do anything more. “So perfect, Nat. I’m so proud of you.”

Her response was a quiet, barely-there hum, her body settling even more as she melted into your embrace. The tension was gone now, replaced with a soft, languid peace that settled over both of you. You could feel the steady rhythm of her breathing, the way her back moved against yours, and it grounded you just as much as it did her.

You cradled Natasha in your arms for what felt like forever, the quiet comfort between you speaking louder than any words. She was completely limp, her body heavy against yours, her breaths soft and steady now.

After a while, you pressed a soft kiss to her temple and whispered gently, “I should clean you up, baby. Let me run you a bath.”

Natasha hummed in disagreement, her head shaking slightly as she leaned further into you, her eyes still closed. She wasn’t ready to move, wasn’t ready to let go of the feeling of you inside her, keeping her grounded and safe. You smiled softly at her stubbornness, her bratty behaviour making you shake your head in amusement. The bulge in her stomach, still there and almost casual now, was like a silent reminder that this wasn’t the last time something like this would happen whenever she decided to brat out.

You chuckled again, warmth spreading through your chest. She was so beautiful, so perfect, and you loved her even more in these quiet, vulnerable moments.

“Alright, alright,” you murmured, running your hand gently along her side, “we’ll stay here for a bit longer. But when you’re ready, I’m cleaning you up.”

Natasha didn’t respond, just snuggled deeper into you, her body still. Her face was completely relaxed, her lips parted slightly as she rested against you, lost in the lingering haze of subspace. You held her close, stroking her arm softly as you watched the slow rise and fall of her chest, content to stay like this for as long as she needed.

It was about ten minutes later when you felt her stir. A faint wince crossed her face as she shifted in your lap, her muscles clearly starting to ache after the intense session. She let out a small, pained whimper, her brow furrowing as she tried to move slightly, the soreness settling in.

You kissed her head gently, your voice soft and reassuring. “Ready for that bath now?”

This time, she didn’t protest. She nodded weakly, her eyes still closed but her body slowly coming back to her as she let out a quiet, “Mhm.”

You helped her sit up, your hands gentle as you guided her, though even the small movement made her wince again. As Natasha began to lift herself off the strap, you couldn’t help but groan at the sight. She was slightly gaping, her body clearly feeling the aftereffects of the stretch, and the sight was enough to make your stomach twist with desire all over again.

Natasha blushed deeply, her cheeks flushed a soft pink as she noticed your reaction. You saw her glance in the mirror, catching the way her body looked before quickly averting her gaze, embarrassed but unable to hide the small, sheepish smile playing on her lips.

“You’re beautiful,” you murmured, your voice a little rough from the sight of her. Natasha’s blush deepened, and she looked away again, biting her lip in that shy, adorable way she did when she was overwhelmed with praise.

You discarded the toy to the side, knowing you’d deal with it later. Right now, Natasha was your priority, and aftercare was the only thing on your mind.

“Come here, Nat,” you whispered, helping her to her feet and wrapping an arm around her waist to support her. She wobbled slightly, her legs weak from the intensity of everything, but you held her steady, guiding her slowly toward the bathroom.

Once you had the bath running, you sat her down on the edge of the tub, kneeling in front of her as you gently cleaned her up, wiping away the remnants of the session with a soft, damp cloth. Natasha was quiet, her eyes half-lidded as she watched you with a tired, hazy gaze, her body still relaxed in the warmth of your presence.

“You’re doing so good,” you murmured as you cleaned her, your hands gentle and careful. “I’m so proud of you, Nat.”

She let out a soft hum in response, her cheeks still a little pink from earlier, but she didn’t try to speak. She was too exhausted, too deep in the afterglow to do anything but watch you with that sleepy, content look on her face.

Once the bath was ready, you helped her into the warm water, holding her hand as she slowly sank into the tub, a sigh of relief escaping her lips as the heat soothed her aching muscles. You stayed by her side, your fingers tracing soft patterns along her arm, watching as she closed her eyes and leaned back against the edge of the tub.

“Are you feeling better?” you asked softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

Natasha nodded, her lips curving into a small, tired smile. “Mhm,” she mumbled, her voice soft but hoarse from all the moaning and gasping earlier.

You chuckled, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead. “Good.”

For the next while, you stayed with her, washing her hair gently, your hands careful as you massaged her scalp, the soothing motions helping to relax her even more. Natasha let out quiet, contented sighs every now and then, her body completely at ease in your care.

When the bath was over, you wrapped her in a soft towel, drying her off gently before helping her into a comfortable, oversized shirt. She was still quiet, her movements slow and sleepy, but she leaned into your touch every chance she got, seeking out your warmth and comfort.

You led her back to the bedroom, guiding her under the covers before climbing in beside her. As soon as you settled in, Natasha curled into your side, her head resting on your chest, her arms wrapping around you as she let out a soft, contented sigh.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, but the gratitude in her tone was clear.

You smiled, wrapping your arms around her and holding her close. “Always, Natty,” you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her hair. “I’ll always take care of you.”

She hummed softly in response, already drifting off to sleep in your arms, her body finally fully at peace.

a/n- i need to start writing shorter fics oh my god. thanks for reading!

#romugh writes #romugh slays #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff reader #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #romugh's requests #romugh's nerd!natty #nerdy natty forever my love

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papercorgiworld · 2 days

Text

I don't need space, I need you

This is the requested Draco and Enzo version

Read the Mattheo and Theo version here.

I present you cuteness overload with needy Draco and Enzo and some sassy insults towards Matt and Theo, because I can't resist adding banter and jokes. To the person that requested this, thank you! ☺️ To the people that have sent in requests or casual small talk I'm slowly working through my inbox... I will get to it one day... just know that I love all you darlings and I'm very grateful for your messages. Now, time to get to some reading, I hope you enjoy it, sending you all lots of love! 💛

Draco

“What’s the point of having a girlfriend if I can’t find her.” Draco complains, approaching his friends relaxing by the fireplace in the Slytherin common room. “Have any of you seen here?” Enzo looks up at the impatient blond. “I think she said something about studying with Granger.” Draco is about to start whining about you not being there and instead spending time with Hermione Granger of all people, when he’s interrupted by a snorting Mattheo. “Finally a moment of peace for my fallen brother. Sit and enjoy your freedom before miss clingy returns.” Theodore and Enzo chuckle and Draco feels forced to at least smile at Mattheo’s comment. “Yeeah-, finally peace.” Draco tries his best to sound convincing, but to him peace was cuddling with you, not hanging out with mister mommy and daddy issues, the Italian manwhore and Enzo. The latter picked up on Draco’s reluctance to sit down. “If you miss her so much, maybe you should go look for her?” Theo laughed at Enzo’s suggestion thinking it was a joke and Draco feels the need to make it absolutely clear that he doesn’t miss you at all. “No! If she gets any more cuddly and clingy I’m gonna need to hide from her. And she’s always so nosy, why does she always need to know how my day was? I'll tell her if she needs to know anything.” Mattheo chuckles and offers his friend a drink, but to Draco that did not make up for missing out on time with you.

Your excitement to tell Draco about your day was replaced by a wrecking sadness that made your tears well up. Clingy. Too cuddly. Nosy. As you turn on your heels to leave the common room before anyone notices you, you almost bump into someone because your eyes are getting blurry. Worried that you had been the most annoying girlfriend ever you decided to do better. Draco had been a wonderful boyfriend so far and you really didn’t want to screw this up by being overwhelming.

***

“He’s a guy and it’s Draco. I’m just giving him some space.” You explained to Luna and Hermione, who both frowned as you joined them in the stands of the quidditch stadium without wishing your boyfriend luck as he left the barracks. Normally you would kiss him passionately in front of everyone and he would hug you tight before he hopped on his broom, but today you wished him luck at breakfast and that was it. You thought you were giving him space as you smiled at him from the stands, but instead you were giving your boyfriend a heart attack as he spotted you so far away. “Hey, Malfoy! The game is about to start. Get on your broom.” Theodore yelled annoyed. “But- but-” Draco’s eyes moved from you to Theo and back to you. The game could not possibly start without you wishing him luck. Confused Draco eventually got on his broom, but his head was nowhere near the game.

***

Fred and George cheerfully ran up to you and George even picked you up for a moment, making you laugh. Gryffindor had won and the boys were convinced you aided in their victory. “Never wish Draco luck anymore!” Fred yelled and George put you back down as he noticed how confused you were. “I’ve known chickens who fly better than he flew today.” You frowned at the statement. “You think it was because I didn’t wish him any luck before the game?” Both nodded and then left as they were distracted by other people cheering.

A little worried you slowly made your way in the direction of the changing room. Most of the slytherin team had already made their way to the common room, mainly to keep a pissed off Mattheo from throwing punches, but Draco wasn’t with them so you guessed he was sulking by himself.

You gently push the door open and it reveals a defeated, sweaty and shirtless Draco sitting in an empty room. He hadn’t even made it to the showers yet, his head resting against the wall behind him like it would fall off if it didn’t have any support. His eyelids slowly open and he ssees your worried figure standing at the door. Why is she not rushing to be by my side? Why is she being so distant? Is she going to break up with me? His head was spinning and his heart was aching. “Bad game, huh.” You eventually speak up and Draco just huffs in response. “If you’re going to break up with me just do it already. I’m having a bad day, but I can handle it.” Draco’s eyes look dull and his voice sounds soulless. He gets up and takes a few steps towards you, studying you as you look absolutely shocked. Once you process his words you immediately rush towards him, your eyes pained at the idea of breaking up with the man you so love.

“I’m not breaking up with you!”. Your voice is surprisingly loud and there is a hint of fear in your words as you worry he was going to end things with you. Your hands rest on Draco’s arms and he shakes his head, not understanding why you were so distant earlier. “Then why didn’t you wish me luck?” You're baffled at the question, it was obvious to you why and you didn’t expect him to care for it. “You said I was too cuddly and too clingy. So I thought it best to give you some space and not overwhelm you before a game. I wished you luck this morning.”

Draco looks at you like you had just said the dumbest thing ever. “Space? I don’t want space! I want you. I need you! I love you.” Your eyebrows knit together. “But I clearly heard you say-” Draco shakes his head. “When did I ever say you were too clingy… or cuddly. It’s why I love you so much.” You take a step back from your boyfriend. “Yesterday, in the common room, you were talking with Riddle, Berkshire and Nott.” Draco opens his mouth in realisation and then clenches his jaw as he curses himself. He takes a step and closes the distance you had created between you two. “Yeah… I said that… but I didn’t mean it. I said it because I felt that the truth was a bit embarrassing.” You look at your boyfriend with questioning eyes. “Not really cool to tell your mates that you’re looking for your girlfriend because you want to snuggle and watch the stars from the astronomy tower.” You give him a soft smack on the head and he looks at you with apologetic eyes. “I felt horrible after hearing you say those things.” Draco pulls you into his chest. “Shouldn’t have listened in.” He jokes, but you don’t think it’s funny at all and you try to push free from his arms. However you are unsuccessful but Draco apologises. “I shouldn’t have said those things, because I’m just one big softy for you. Nothing tough about me when it comes down to you.” Gently his lips search yours and you’re hesitant at first to kiss your idiotic boyfriend, but when he apologises again you let his lips meet yours for a sweet kiss.

“So next game, kisses and hugs?” You ask and Draco nods. “Yes. And I don’t think a single slytherin is going to mock us for being too clingy since the only chance we have at winning the quidditch cup is with you by my side.” Nothing tough about Draco at all. Just a needy boyfriend. You think to yourself as you kiss him.

Enzo

“Pans!” Enzo squeals dramatically as he enters the slytherin common room. “Where is the future missus Berkshire? Can’t find her anywhere.” Before Pansy can answer Enzo’s question Mattheo puts his book down grinning at his friend. “Can’t be without her for even a second?” Enzo’s excitement drops as he notices everyone is looking up now, curious what Enzo’s answer will be. Enzo was always a bit different from his nonchalant and stoic friends. He knew the tough act didn’t suit him and he was confident enough to just be himself, but right now he was a bit worried. He felt himself get nervous and chuckled at Riddle’s question. “Told you, he’s absolutely whipped.” Draco says with an arrogant tone as he raises his eyebrows, challenging Enzo.

“She was at the Library with Luna, but I’m sure she’ll be here any minute.” Pansy finally answers, after rolling her eyes at Draco’s arrogance. “Good, that gives me a few more minutes free of her… because I am not whipped. She’s the one that always wants to be near me.” Mattheo leans back and nods along, pretending to believe Enzo. “Oh really, so why do you keep putting up with it?” Enzo sits down, lounging casually. “I like her so I put up with her clinginess, but honestly I don’t need her around all the time. The hugs and kisses… that’s all her… not me.”

You had only taken three steps in the common room before stopping. You felt your legs get wobbly at your boyfriend’s words. You take quiet steps backwards and hurry out of the common room. Obviously you were not wanted there.

However, you missed out on Pansy’s loud snickering. “Oh please, Enzo! You liar!” Enzo is absolutely shocked at Pansy’s accusations, but no one else is as all his friends start laughing. “You couldn’t go a day with her.” Draco says, shaking his head at Enzo’ sad attempt at trying to act indifferent towards you. “Alright, alright. I can’t stand being without her! I love her. I need her.” Mattheo laughs, satisfied with Enzo’s confession. “There’s the real Berkshire I know.” Enzo lets his head fall back, bracing for days of mocking and jokes about his attachment to you.

***

“Oh yeah! Sounds fun. I’ll be there.” Enzo overhears you agreeing to go to Hogsmeade with the golden trio and leans over his desk towards you. “Hey, hey! You can’t go to Hogsmeade with them on Saturday, we were going.” You turn in your seat towards your boyfriend and kiss him on the cheek. “You can go with your friends. We don’t have to do everything together.” Your answer hurts Enzo and his eyebrows knit together. Yes we do, what else is the purpose of a relationship. But before your boyfriend can protest out loud the professor enters the classroom.

***

“Look at her.” Enzo complains to an uncaring Theodore Nott. “The entire week she’s been distant, always better things to do than being with me and now this.” A frustrated Enzo gestures your way and Theo shrugs. “What am I supposed to do?” Enzo whines.

“Kidnap her and lock her up, then you have her all to yourself.” Mattheo suggests, making Theo frown and offer his own advice on the matter. “No, don’t listen to abandonment issues over here. Just get a new girlfriend.” Blaise just facepalms at the realisation he is the only sane one in his friend group. “Ignore both abandonment issues and attachment issues and just go talk to your girlfriend like a normal person.” Blaise emphasises the last words as he glares judgingly at Mattheo and Theo who both act offended. Enzo nods, realising that Blaise was right.

You notice your boyfriend strutting over to you and your friends from across the street and excuse yourself to meet him halfway. “Hey you.” You whisper and Enzo immediately smiles, feeling relieved that you're still your sweet self. “I miss you.” Your boyfriend blurs, even surprising himself with his honesty. “You wanna have dinner together tonight?” You offer, but Enzo shakes his head making you frown. “No. I mean yes, obviously I would like that, but it’s not just that I want to do just one thing with you. We’ve barely spent time together this week.” An uncomfortable laugh escapes you, but you repress it when you notice how sad Enzo’s eyes are. “We’ve spent plenty of time together, besides you’re a guy, you need your space. I don’t want to suffocate you with hugs and kisses all the time.”

Enzo is baffled at your words. “I’m a guy so I need space. What’s that supposed to mean?” There was a slight tone of agitation in his voice that made you take a step back, but he was quick to close the distance by taking a step closer. “Who put all these crazy ideas in your head of needing to give me space and suffocating me with love?” Your face falls at his harsh tone, but you bite back. “It was you. You were the one that said you wanted to be free of me for a few minutes and that I was the needy one and you had to put up with my clinginess. It was you, Enzo Berkshire, you idiot. So you have no right to complain about me giving you space, since you asked for it.” Enzo’s jaw clenches at your accusation. “I did not!” You cross your arms and raise your eyebrows. “I heard you with Pansy, Matt and Draco.”

Enzo frowns for a moment, but when he remembers his eyes widen and a laugh escapes his lips. “You believed that?” He asks and you just stare at him in confusion. “They didn’t believe any of it. I was trying to convince them I wasn’t some whipped guy that couldn’t be without his girlfriend for a second, but they saw right through me.” You unfold your arms and Enzo takes your hands in his. “I don’t need space, I need you. So please don’t force me to go days without your hugs and kisses. You don’t suffocate me, if anything I suffocate without you.” You kiss him tenderly and out of excitement Enzo picks you up, making you squeal softly. “Please spend the day with me?” You nod and kiss your boyfriend’s pouty lips.

#slytherin #slytherin boys #enzo berkshire #enzo berkshire imagine #enzo berkshire x reader #papercorgiworldwritings #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy

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syluslnd · 20 hours

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Hello I'm sorry if you're not taking requests. But please please if you are can you make the part 2 of Sylus as an online sugar daddy meeting with his sugar baby.

But please ignore it if you don't take requests and your writing is SOOO GOODD. Have a nice day!!

Sylus meeting with his online sugar baby

(note-you sent this a while back when I first started posting so I hope you’re still around lol I’m sorry for taking so long🤍)

Tags • virgin reader,sugar daddy sylus,verbal teasing,fingering,climaxing

5k word count (I got carried away sorry)

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Sylus himself couldn't even believe he was doing this. It wasn’t just a waste of time for him; he never thought he’d be the type to seek out a woman, especially in a place like this but something about you intrigued him in a way he couldn't ignore.

As he leaned against his sleek black car outside the arcade the neon lights flickered, illuminating the faces of the young couples and friends inside. He felt out of place the leader of Onychinus waiting in a childish venue a stark contrast to his usual world of power and control.

He glanced at his watch, the minutes stretching painfully. He was serious about this arrangement, after all. He had his reasons, practical ones—companionship, a distraction from the relentless pressure of his life. But he couldn't deny the thrill of meeting you, the allure of stepping into a world so different from his own.

The sound of laughter drew his attention, and then he saw you approaching. Your smile was bright, a refreshing contrast to the shadows that usually loomed around him. You looked confident almost carefree as you made your way toward him.

“Hi! sorry if I kept you waiting,” you said your voice light and cheerful,opposite of how he’s used to people greeting him.

“It’s fine,” Sylus replied, maintaining his serious demeanor. “I’m just getting used to this.”

“This?” you asked, gesturing around the arcade. “I get it,It’s not exactly your usual scene.”

He finally met your gaze, feeling a flicker of something unexpected—curiosity, perhaps. “I’m not here for the games sweetie”.

You smiled at his straightforwardness, your cheerful demeanor undeterred by his serious tone. “I figured,but the games are kind of fun! You should try one!”

Sylus raised an eyebrow, intrigued but unwilling to show it. “I doubt I’d find much enjoyment in... this.” He gestured around, feeling a mix of irritation and fascination at how different your world was.

You chuckled softly, the sound warming the chilly air between you. “You might be surprised,It’s nice to escape sometimes.” There was a glimmer in your eyes that caught him off guard.

“Escape?” he echoed, feeling the weight of his own reality settle back over him. “I’m not sure that’s possible for me.”

Your expression shifted slightly, the playful light dimming as you regarded him more seriously. “I didn’t mean to pry. I just thought—”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted, his voice sharper than intended. He didn’t want to scare you away, but vulnerability was foreign territory for him.

You looked at him, studying his chiseled features and the tension that pulled at the corners of his mouth. “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met,” you said softly, as if sensing the walls he’d erected around himself.

“Maybe that’s for the best,” he replied, a hint of angst creeping into his tone. It was a reminder of the danger he lived in, the enemies lurking in shadows,never being able to be off guard . “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

Your gaze remained steady, unwavering. “and yet here I am,Isn’t that the thrill of it? To step outside our comfort zones?”

“Thrill,” he muttered, a bitter smile playing on his lips. “More like recklessness.” But even as he said it, he couldn’t shake the instinct to protect you, to shield your brightness from his dark world.

You tilted your head, curiosity gleaming in your eyes. “You’re so serious sylus,what are you afraid of?”

He hesitated, the weight of his duality pressing down. “That I’ll lose you, kitten.” The admission surprised even him. He didn’t know you well, yet there was something about you that ignited an urgency within him.

Your smile returned, softer now, disarming his cold demeanor. “I’m not going anywhere,not yet at least.”

For the first time, Sylus felt a crack in his armor. Perhaps this sugar daddy arrangement was about more than just companionship; it was a chance to explore a connection that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

As you took a step closer, he felt an instinctive need to draw you nearer, to keep you safe. “Let’s get out of here,” he said abruptly, surprising even himself with the sudden protective urge.

You blinked, a mix of confusion and excitement dancing across your face. “Where to?”

“Somewhere... away from all this.”

And with that, the tension shifted. Sylus realized he was no longer just a mafia boss seeking distraction; he was a man drawn to someone who could bring light into his otherwise shadowed existence.

As sylus drove you to the hotel, the tension in the car was palpable, a mix of excitement and uncertainty. The neon lights outside blurred by, but all he could focus on was the way you shifted in your seat, a nervous smile playing on your lips.

Once inside the hotel, he led you to a private suite, the door clicking shut behind you with a sense of finality. The room was elegantly furnished, dim lighting casting a warm glow. You looked around, your earlier cheerfulness tempered by a hint of shyness.

“What happened to the lively little kitten I met at the arcade?” Sylus teased, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. “You seemed so confident, and now...”

You bit your lip, glancing at the floor. “I don’t know! It’s just… different, you know?”

“Different,how so kitten?” He stepped closer, his eyes gleaming with playful mischief. “You’re not worried about me, are you?”

“No, it’s not that” you replied, trying to maintain your composure. “It’s just... you’re a bit intimidating.”

He chuckled, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “Intimidating? Sweetie, I promise I’m just a guy, a guy who’s curious about why you’re suddenly so shy.”

You took a breath, trying to regain some confidence. “I guess I just didn’t expect to be here, with you, like this.”

“Is that so?” He leaned against the edge of the bed, arms crossed, the teasing glint in his eyes intensifying. “I would’ve thought you’d be eager to explore every aspect of this arrangement.”

“Explore?” you echoed, feeling your cheeks heat.

“Yeah, you know,” he said, a playful smirk on his lips. “Try out all the fun things you can’t do over the phone .”

Your heart raced and you glanced away, flustered. “I—”

“Come on, kitten,” he coaxed, stepping closer again, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Are you a little more innocent than you let on? Is that what this is about?”

You froze, your mind racing. “Um, well, I—”

“Are you a virgin, sweetie?” His words hung in the air, a teasing challenge that made you blush even deeper.

Your eyes widened, caught off guard. “I… maybe?” The admission slipped out before you could stop it, and you felt utterly exposed.

Sylus raised an eyebrow, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Well, that explains the shyness,but it’s cute,” he said, leaning in closer a playful glint in his eye. “I didn’t realize I was dealing with such an innocent little thing.”

You shifted your weight, heart pounding. “Stop it!” you protested, half-laughing, half-embarrassed. “You’re making me feel like a kid!”

“Maybe you are,” he teased, his tone light but his gaze serious. “But don’t worry, kitten. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

Your stomach fluttered at his words, a mix of excitement and nervousness washing over you. “You’re such a meanie!” you said, trying to sound indignant but failing miserably.

“I’m just having a little fun, sweetie,” he replied, his voice low and inviting. “You’re adorable when you blush like that. I could get used to this.”

The playful banter hung in the air, creating an electric atmosphere. You couldn’t help but smile, feeling the walls you’d built around yourself slowly crumbling. “Maybe I’ll show you more of my personality if you promise to be nice,” you offered, your voice teasing back.

“Oh, I’ll be nice,” he promised, stepping back slightly to give you space. “But I can’t make any guarantees about being gentle.”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the thrill that raced through you at his words. “I guess I’ll have to hold you to that.”

And in that moment, amidst the teasing and the laughter, something shifted between you, a connection deepening beneath the playful facade. Sylus felt a flicker of something he hadn’t anticipated—an urge to protect not just your innocence, but also to cherish the light you brought into his dark world.

Sylus moved towards you, the teasing smile on his lips fading just enough for his expression to darken, a serious intensity taking over. He crossed the room slowly, closing the space between the two of you, and before you could react, his hands were on your waist. With a firm but gentle grip, he lifted you effortlessly and plopped you onto the bed. The air left your lungs in a quiet gasp and for a moment, you were caught off guard by how swiftly he moved.

“Sweetie,” he murmured, his voice dipping into something lower, something that made the room feel smaller. His gaze locked on yours, the playfulness still there but laced with a seriousness that hadn’t been present before. “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into, do you?”

You swallowed hard, the nervousness creeping back in as he loomed over you. “I… I think I do.”

He smirked, but there was something almost sad in it. “You think, huh?” His thumb brushed lightly against your waist as he knelt onto the bed, his hands still holding you in place. “Kitten, I’ve been playing this game for a long time. I know when someone’s out of their depth.”

The teasing edge in his tone made your heart race, but there was a weight behind his words that made you shift beneath him, uneasy but drawn in all the same.

“You’re a sweet little thing,” he said, his voice almost tender, though his words held a darker undertone. “Too sweet for someone like me. This isn’t like those playful messages online, sweetheart. I live in a world that’s... far from innocent.”

Your breath caught as his fingers trailed up your side, the motion almost soothing despite the tension in the air. “But you… you still want me here, don’t you?”

He leaned closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered, “I want you, kitten. More than I should,but I worry about what happens if you stay in my world too long.”

You blinked, trying to steady yourself, your mind spinning. “What do you mean?”

Sylus pulled back slightly, his face hovering just inches from yours. The smirk returned, but his eyes were shadowed, conflicted. “You see, I’ve got my fun little games, but outside of this room? My life isn’t soft. It’s sharp edges and shadows..and you” he said, brushing a thumb over your cheek, “you’re too innocent,you don’t belong in that darkness.”

Your stomach tightened, the weight of his words sinking in. “I can handle it. I’m not a kid.”

He chuckled softly, though there was no humor in it this time. “You’re not a kid, but you’re pure, and I’m not.” His hand found its way to your chin, tilting your head so your eyes met his. “You think being my sugar baby is all fun and games. But in person? It’s different. You’re not just playing with me anymore, sweetheart. You’re playing with fire.”

Your pulse quickened as he shifted his weight, pinning you gently beneath him. “And what if I want to get burned?” you whispered, feeling bolder in the heat of the moment.

For a second, his expression softened, and his fingers threaded through your hair as he gazed down at you with a mix of affection and regret. “Careful what you wish for, sweetie,” he murmured. “I might just give it to you.”

Despite the teasing, there was an undeniable protectiveness in the way he spoke, as if he wasn’t sure if he wanted to pull you closer or keep you at arm’s length. It was as if he feared that pulling you too far into his world would extinguish the light you carried—something that had begun to matter to him in ways he wasn’t prepared to admit.

And in that moment, you realized Sylus wasn’t just worried about what he could do to you. He was worried about what his world could do to someone like you.

Sylus hovered above you, his eyes flickering between restraint and desire, that teasing smirk playing on his lips as if he was holding himself back. You could feel the tension in the air, thick and electric, his fingers still gently grazing your cheek. Despite all his playful words and sly smirks, you could see it—he was hesitating, his dark world swirling in his mind, wondering if pulling you closer would be a mistake.

For a moment, you bit your lip, considering what to do. But something inside you shifted. If Sylus wasn’t going to make the move, you would.

With a sudden burst of boldness, you reached up and cupped the back of his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. His eyes widened in surprise, the smirk faltering just slightly as you pulled him closer, your lips hovering inches from his.

“I’m not as fragile as you think, Sylus,” you whispered, your voice steady even though your heart pounded in your chest. “I can handle whatever you throw at me.”

For a moment, he simply stared at you, as if caught completely off guard by your sudden boldness. Then, a slow grin spread across his face, his eyes gleaming with amusement and something darker, something hungry.

“Oh, kitten,” he murmured, his voice low and velvety, “you think you’re being serious, don’t you?”

You kept your grip firm on the back of his neck, refusing to back down. “I am serious.”

The way his eyes softened at your determined expression made your stomach flip. He found you adorable—your attempt at taking control only seemed to amuse him more. “Look at you,” he said, voice dripping with affection and a hint of that ever-present teasing. “So tough, huh?”

Before you could say anything else, Sylus closed the distance, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that stole the breath from your lungs. His hands, which had been holding you so delicately, tightened their grip, pulling you flush against him.

Your boldness evaporated as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a wave of flustered heat. The intensity of his kiss left you dizzy and though you had initiated this, you quickly realized you were in over your head. Your heart pounded in your ears, and you felt your face burning with embarrassment.

He broke the kiss just long enough to chuckle against your lips, his breath warm as he whispered, “What’s the matter, sweetie? You’re the one who made the move.”

You could barely respond, too flustered to form words. He loved it—he could see it in your wide eyes, the way your chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. You’d been so bold just moments before, but now? Now, you were back to being the adorable, innocent girl that had him wrapped around her finger.

Sylus leaned in again, this time brushing his lips over your cheek, down to your jaw, his voice a low, teasing rumble. “So cute when you’re all shy like this.”

Your hands trembled slightly, but you held onto him, trying not to completely melt under his touch. “I’m not… shy” you mumbled, but the words came out weak, betraying how flustered you really were.

“Oh, sure” he teased, his lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. “Is that why you can’t even look me in the eyes right now?”

You wanted to protest, to regain some sense of composure but before you could, his hand slid down from your waist, trailing over your hip, slow and deliberate. His touch sent a shock of heat through you, and you instinctively arched toward him, though the movement only made you feel more embarrassed.

Sylus grinned against your skin, clearly enjoying the way you responded to him. “What happened to handling everything, kitten? Still think you’re in control?”

The way he spoke, his voice thick with amusement and a teasing edge, made it clear he was fully aware of the effect he had on you. He wanted to push you, see how far he could take it.

His hand slid lower, his fingers brushing over the curve of your thigh, teasing you just enough to leave you breathless. He pulled back just slightly, his face hovering above yours, his eyes scanning your flushed expression with a mixture of fondness and wicked delight.

“You look so cute when you’re flustered,” he murmured, his tone soft but with that same edge. “But you’re not ready for the things I want to do to you, are you?”

Your breath caught in your throat, but you met his gaze, determined not to back down completely. “Try me,” you whispered, though your voice was shaky.

Sylus chuckled again, leaning down to kiss you once more, slower this time, savoring the moment. “Oh, kitten,” he whispered between kisses, “you’re going to be so much fun.”

Sylus hovered over you, his lips barely leaving yours as he deepened the kiss, drawing out every flustered breath and soft sound you made. His hand, still trailing over your thigh, paused, fingers curling just enough to make you squirm beneath him. He pulled back, only an inch, enough to look at you with that knowing smirk—the one that told you he had complete control of the situation, no matter how much you’d tried to take charge.

“You really think you’re ready for this?” he asked, voice low, dark, but still teasing. His hand slid higher, resting on the bare skin just beneath the hem of your dress, his thumb brushing in soft circles that made it impossible to focus.

You swallowed hard, your heart hammering in your chest, but you managed to meet his gaze with more boldness than you felt. “Yea,I can handle it.”

For a second, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then, his smirk softened into something more, something almost affectionate. “You’re adorable,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Trying so hard to be brave.”

Before you could respond, his hand gripped your thigh a little tighter, drawing a soft gasp from you. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your neck. “But you don’t have to pretend with me, kitten. I know exactly how to get under your skin.”

The teasing lilt in his voice sent a thrill through you, and though you wanted to hold onto that boldness, the way his fingers danced across your skin made it impossible to keep up the act. Your breath quickened, and you could feel the heat rising in your face as his touch became more deliberate, more confident.

“See?” he murmured, his lips brushing over your collarbone, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. “You’re already trembling, sweetie. I told you… you’re not ready for this.”

His words were a challenge, but they weren’t mocking. It was as if he was genuinely testing you, seeing how far you’d go before backing down. And despite the way he was unraveling you, you weren’t ready to surrender just yet.

“I can handle you,” you whispered, though the quiver in your voice betrayed your confidence.

Sylus chuckled softly, his lips moving up to your ear, the sound of his voice sending a shiver through you. “Is that right?” His hand slid even higher, fingers brushing dangerously close to places that made you gasp. “Then why do you sound so nervous, kitten?”

Your face burned, and you instinctively bit your lip to stop the soft whimper threatening to escape. But Sylus wasn’t about to let you off the hook that easily. His lips were back at your neck, pressing a lingering kiss there before whispering, “I love how quiet you get when you’re flustered. It’s like you don’t know what to do with yourself.”

You could feel the warmth of his smile against your skin and it made your pulse race even faster. His hand moved deliberately now, tracing the edge of your inner thigh, teasing but not giving you what you secretly craved. It was maddening how in control he was, how effortlessly he played with your reactions.

“You’re so easy to read, sweetie,” he said, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression both amused and intense. “I could keep this up all night, just watching you squirm.”

You couldn’t help it—your face flushed a deep red and you looked away, embarrassed by how easily he was getting to you. But Sylus wouldn’t let you escape that easily. He caught your chin between his thumb and forefinger, gently turning your face back to his.

“Don’t hide from me,” he whispered, his voice softer now, though no less intense. “I want to see every expression, every little blush. It’s too cute to miss.”

The tenderness in his words made your chest tighten, but there was still a darkness to them, a possessiveness that left you breathless. You were caught between the soft affection he was showing you and the overwhelming heat of his touch and you were losing, fast.

“I can’t…” you started, but the words fell apart as he leaned down, capturing your lips in another heated kiss. His hand slid higher, fingers teasing the edge of your underwear, and you gasped into his mouth, your body arching involuntarily toward him.

He broke the kiss just to smirk against your lips, clearly loving the way you were reacting. “Can’t what, sweetie?” he teased, his breath mingling with yours. “You were so sure you could handle it.”

Your mind was spinning, and though you’d started this, it was clear that Sylus had taken control completely. But despite how flustered you were, you didn’t want him to stop. You wanted more, even if you could barely keep up with him.

“I can handle it,” you whispered, more determined now, though your voice shook.

Sylus smiled, the kind of smile that made your heart skip a beat. He leaned down again, this time his lips brushing just beneath your ear. “You’re so stubborn, kitten. I like that about you.”

Then, his hand slid down, tracing a slow, torturous path along your inner thigh. His touch was light, teasing, just enough to leave you aching for more but never giving in completely.

“But you still have so much to learn.”

Sylus’s smirk deepened as he watched your breath hitch, every little movement you made betraying just how much he was affecting you. His fingers, still tracing delicate patterns along your inner thigh, were slow, deliberate, and maddeningly teasing. Every time he got close enough to make your heart race, he’d pull back just a little, dragging out your anticipation until it felt unbearable.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear as his voice dropped lower, sending a thrill down your spine. “You’re trembling already, kitten. You’re not used to this, are you? No one’s touched you like this before.”

You didn’t trust yourself to respond, but that only made his smile grow. He pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your neck, letting the heat from his lips sink into your skin. His free hand slid up to your waist, gripping just firm enough to make you arch toward him instinctively. He knew exactly how to play with your body, how to drive you wild without even giving you what you wanted.

Sylus pulled back just slightly, his eyes locking with yours, and the intensity in them made your stomach flip. He tilted his head, watching every flustered expression cross your face, drinking in the way your lips parted, the soft, breathless sounds that escaped you.

“Still think you can handle me?” he whispered, his voice rich with amusement, but his touch told a different story—it was heavier now, more intent.

You bit your lip, trying to steady your breath, but it was impossible with him this close. His fingers trailed back up your thigh, higher this time, slipping just beneath the edge of your underwear, the movement slow, teasing.

The sensation made you gasp, your body instinctively pushing closer to his. That small, desperate movement wasn’t lost on Sylus. He grinned, clearly loving how much you were craving his touch now.

“You’re not as innocent as you act, are you, kitten?” he teased, his breath warm against your skin. “Look at how you’re moving for me. You’re not shy now, are you?”

His words sent a wave of heat through you, and though you wanted to hold onto that boldness from earlier, you couldn’t deny how flustered you were under his control. Your body was betraying you, responding to every touch, every low whisper and Sylus was enjoying every second of it.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours, but he didn’t kiss you—not yet. He stayed there, close enough that you could feel his breath, the teasing proximity making your pulse quicken.

“You’re going to have to ask for it,” he whispered, his voice dark and tempting. “If you want more, sweetie, you’re going to have to tell me.”

Your mind was spinning, but the heat of the moment made it impossible to think clearly. Sylus’s hand was still tormenting you, fingers barely brushing over the sensitive skin between your legs, teasing you in a way that made it hard to form words.

“I—” you started, but the words caught in your throat as his touch grew more deliberate, his fingers moving in slow, torturous circles that left you breathless.

“Come on, kitten,” he coaxed, his lips grazing your jaw, his voice dripping with amusement. “I know you want it. Just say it.”

You could barely breathe, let alone speak, but the way he was looking at you, the way his touch had you completely at his mercy, left you no choice. “Please,” you whispered, your voice shaky.

“Please what?” he asked, his tone smug, but his touch never faltered. “You have to tell me exactly what you want.”

Your heart raced as the words hovered on the tip of your tongue, but Sylus wasn’t going to give you any relief until you said it. He waited, his touch slow and deliberate, every movement sending shocks through your body.

“I want… more,” you finally breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper.

His smirk grew, clearly satisfied with your answer. “That’s a good girl” he murmured, and without warning, his fingers slid fully beneath the fabric, pressing against the heat of your body.

The sensation made you gasp, your back arching off the bed as a wave of pleasure shot through you. Sylus’s hand moved with deliberate precision, his touch confident and unrelenting. He watched your reaction with a dark, predatory gleam in his eyes, clearly reveling in the way you responded to him.

“You’re so sensitive, kitten,” he whispered, his voice low and husky as his fingers moved in slow, torturous circles. “I could make you come just like this, couldn’t I? Just by playing with you a little.”

Your breath hitched, your body trembling beneath him, and you hated how much truth there was in his words. The heat was building inside you and the way Sylus’s fingers moved—slow but intentional, pushing you closer and closer to the edge—had you desperate for release.

But he wasn’t going to make it that easy for you.

Just when you were about to lose yourself completely, Sylus’s hand stilled, pulling back just enough to leave you breathless and aching. You let out a soft, frustrated whimper, but Sylus only smiled, leaning down to press a teasing kiss to your lips.

“Oh, sweetie,” he whispered against your mouth, his voice filled with dark amusement. “I told you, I’m not going to be gentle. I want to see just how far I can push you.”

Sylus watched you squirm beneath him, clearly enjoying the way you were unraveling under his touch. His lips ghosted over your neck, sending shivers through your body, while his hand lingered just out of reach, keeping you on edge. Your breath was coming in short, shallow gasps, your body aching for him to push you further.

“Look at you, kitten,” he murmured, his voice soft but laced with wicked intent. “So desperate already… all from a little teasing.”

You whimpered in frustration, your hips moving involuntarily toward his hand, silently begging him for more. But Sylus wasn’t going to give in that easily. He smirked against your skin, his fingers brushing lightly over the sensitive spot between your legs, but not applying enough pressure to give you what you wanted.

“I could keep you like this all night,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. “Just on the edge, begging for more. But…” His hand slid back into place, pressing more firmly now, drawing a gasp from you as he began moving again, slow and deliberate, each touch pushing you closer to the edge. “…I want to hear you scream my name.”

His fingers worked with maddening precision, moving in slow, rhythmic circles that sent jolts of pleasure through your body. Every touch, every stroke, was pushing you higher, closer to the point of no return. Your back arched off the bed, your breath coming in ragged gasps as the heat coiled tight inside you, ready to snap.

“That's it, sweetie,” Sylus whispered, his voice dark and enticing. “I can feel it. You’re so close, aren’t you?”

You could barely respond, too caught up in the overwhelming sensation building inside you. Your fingers gripped the sheets, your body trembling beneath him as his pace quickened, his touch becoming more relentless, more intense.

“Sylus…” you gasped, your voice trembling with need.

“Say it again,” he demanded, his tone both commanding and teasing. “I want to hear you say my name when you come.”

His words sent a thrill through you, and before you knew it, the wave hit you. Your body tensed, then shattered, pleasure crashing through you in overwhelming waves. You cried out his name, your voice shaky, breathless, as your body gave in to the intense release.

Sylus didn’t stop. His fingers kept moving, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you were trembling and gasping for breath, completely undone beneath him. Only then did he slow, pulling back just enough to leave you sensitive and spent, but still aching for more.

As your body came down from the high, Sylus grinned down at you, clearly pleased with the way he had unraveled you so completely. His eyes were dark with satisfaction, and that familiar teasing smirk was back on his lips.

“You look so cute when you’re a mess like this,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement. He leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Was that what you wanted, kitten? Or did I push you too far?”

You could barely speak, still trying to catch your breath, but Sylus didn’t need a response. He chuckled softly, his hand trailing lazily down your thigh as he watched your flushed, exhausted expression.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured, his tone both affectionate and mocking. “I’ll take it easy on you… next time.”

He pulled back slightly, his fingers still brushing over your skin in slow, teasing strokes that made you shudder even in your sensitive state. “But you’ve got a lot to learn if you think you can keep up with me.”

You looked up at him, still dazed from the intensity of your climax, and Sylus’s smirk only deepened. He leaned down, kissing the corner of your mouth before whispering against your lips, “You’re mine now, kitten. And I’m not done with you yet.”

Before you could respond, he slid his hand away completely, leaving you breathless and aching, his eyes gleaming with wicked intent

“We’re just getting started,” he teased, a satisfied chuckle escaping his lips as he watched the lingering need in your eyes. “And I’m going to enjoy every second of it.”

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