Rizz Leveling: A Solo Leveling Fic

Linda was a woman in her early forties, but her age did nothing to diminish her beauty. She had a timeless charm, the kind that turned heads in any room.

Her chocolate-brown hair was neatly styled in soft waves that framed her face, and her light green eyes sparkled with a mix of wisdom and playfulness.

She had a warm, inviting smile that made her approachable, yet there was a confident allure in the way she carried herself.

Her figure was curvy and well-maintained, a testament to her active lifestyle. While she had slight signs of maturity—such as faint lines around her eyes and softer curves—these only added to her appeal, giving her a natural and confident aura.

Linda dressed smartly, often in fitted clothes that highlighted her best features without being overly revealing.

Today, she wore a pair of snug jeans that accentuated her hips and a flowy blouse that dipped slightly in the front, showing just a hint of her cleavage.

Linda appeared at my door with a bright smile and a handwritten grocery list.

"Hey, I thought we could run a few errands together. I could really use your help picking out the best stuff. You have such a good eye for these kinds of things," she said, handing me the list.

Before I could answer, she grabbed my arm gently and tugged me toward the door.

"Come on, it'll be fun! Esther, I'm borrowing Samuel for a bit." She said as she pulled me with her without even waiting for my mom to answer

At the store, Linda stayed close—so close that her shoulder brushed against mine every few steps.

As we moved through the aisles, she reached for the same items I did, her fingers deliberately lingering on mine when they touched.

"Oops," she said with a soft laugh, her green eyes meeting mine. "Guess I should let you grab it first."

She leaned in often to ask my opinion, her voice warm and engaging. When we picked out fruit, she held up an apple, studying it thoughtfully before turning to me.

"Do you think this one's ripe enough?" she asked, holding it close to my face.

Her perfume wafted over, subtle and floral, as she leaned in just a bit closer than necessary.

As we moved to the checkout, she insisted on carrying the lighter bags, positioning herself so our arms occasionally bumped and soon enough her arm was intertwined with mine as if we were a couple that went on a shopping date together.

Once we returned, Linda followed me inside, setting the bags on the counter with a satisfied sigh.

"Thanks for coming with me. I don't know how I'd manage all this on my own. Neither my husband nor my son ever help with anything.

If it weren't for you, I would've had to carry everything by myself or make multiple trips. But thanks to you, we got it all done in one go," she said, her tone warm and full of gratitude.

I stayed to help her unpack all the stuff, as she bent down to put items in the lower cabinets.

Her jeans hugged her curves perfectly, and she seemed to move with an extra vigor, knowing I was nearby.

At one point, she stood on her toes to reach a high shelf, her blouse riding up slightly to reveal a glimpse of her toned lower back.

"Could you give me a hand dear?" she asked, glancing over her shoulder with a playful smile.

I decided to tease her a bit. Instead of putting the item on the higher shelf myself, I moved closer and said, "Let me help you in a different way."

Without waiting for a response, I placed my hands firmly on her butt and gently lifted her high enough to reach the cabinet.

She gasped softly, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of red as she placed the item on the shelf. "Oh my!" she said, her voice trembling slightly, clearly taken aback by the sudden lift and where my hands were.

She noticed my hands firmly in her butt, as I wasn't willing to take them away from there, while my hot breath hit her belly button which was just inches away from my face.

Her body tensed for a moment, but then she relaxed, a small, almost giddy smile spreading across her face as she felt butterflies in her stomach.

She was clearly happy of where my hands were, and the warmth of my touch seemed to make her flustered. "You're… really strong," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm not too heavy for you, right?" she asked, glancing down at me with wide, curious eyes, though her tone carried a hint of insecurity worrying if I found her too heavy.

I chuckled softly, looking up at her. "Come on, Mom," I said playfully, "You know Esther. I always pamper her like this—lifting her, carrying her around wherever she wants.

She loves being treated like a princess, and honestly, she is a princess to me."

Her blush deepened as I called her "Mom." Her lips parted slightly as if she was about to say something, but she closed them again, clearly taken aback by my words.

"Esther is so lucky," she finally said, her voice soft and a bit wistful. "She's got such a wonderful son who treats her so well."

I gently lowered her back to the ground, but her hands lingered on my shoulders for a moment as she steadied herself. "I… I wish I had that," she admitted, her tone filled with both longing and a touch of sadness.

"My husband and son… They don't treat me like this. I'm always running around doing things for them, but they never lift a finger to help me. And here you are, treating Esther like a queen."

Her eyes met mine briefly, her gaze filled with a mix of gratitude and envy. "You have no idea how much I envy her," she said softly, almost as if she didn't mean to say it out loud.

"Hey now," I said gently, trying to lighten the mood. "You're pretty amazing yourself. If you were my mom, I'd probably pamper you just as much."

Her expression softened, and she gave a small, bashful smile, her cheeks still warm with color.

"Thank you," she whispered. "You really know how to make someone feel special." she said as she hugged me tightly.

For a brief moment, she seemed lost in her thoughts, her fingers brushing her arm as if the memory of being lifted lingered on her skin.

After everything was put away, Linda stretched her arms above her head, her blouse riding up just enough to reveal a hint of skin.

"Well, I guess I should head home," I said as I was ready to go. "You're such a gentleman, thank you for everything Samuel. I really enjoyed spending time with you.

Maybe we can do this again sometime?" she said as I stepped out of the apartment.

—

Susan was in her late thirties, a woman whose beauty balanced elegance with just the right amount of boldness.

She had striking jet-black hair that she often wore straight, cascading just below her shoulders, framing her angular face.

Her almond-shaped eyes were a deep, piercing blue that seemed to hold anyone's gaze a moment longer than expected. Her smile was sharp yet inviting, a mix of confidence and allure.

Susan had a toned figure that hinted at regular exercise. Her shoulders were broad but feminine, giving her a strong, confident posture.

She had a trim waist, subtly defined curves, and long legs that always seemed to command attention.

Her sense of style was deliberate—she knew how to dress to captivate without appearing overly forward.

Today, she wore a sleek pencil skirt that hugged her hips and a fitted blouse with just a hint of lace, teasing at the neckline.

Susan invited me over for coffee, claiming she wanted to "catch up" and have my opinion about something she was working on. Her tone was casual, but her smile over the phone hinted at something more.

When I arrived, Susan greeted me at the door, her blouse slightly unbuttoned at the top, showing just enough cleavage to catch the eye without feeling intentional.

"Come in, come in," she said warmly, her voice smooth and inviting. "I made us some coffee, and I could really use your advice on something."

As I sat on the couch, she handed me a steaming mug, her fingers brushing mine just briefly, her nails perfectly manicured and gleaming.

"I always trust your opinion; your judgment is so good that I can blindly trust your decision," she said, settling in beside me, close enough that her leg brushed against mine. Her eyes lingered on me for a moment, a thoughtful expression crossing her face.

"You know," she continued, her voice soft but tinged with a mix of admiration and regret, "Sometimes I wish my husband had even half your sense of judgment.

He's so impulsive and... well, let's just say his decisions aren't always the best." She chuckled lightly, though there was a hint of bitterness in her tone.

"And don't even get me started on my son," she added, shaking her head with a small sigh. "He barely listens to me, let alone gives advice.

Half the time, I feel like I'm talking to a wall." Her gaze softened as she looked at me again, a wistful smile playing on her lips.

"Honestly," she said, her tone now filled with genuine warmth, "if I had someone like you around—someone who's thoughtful, reliable, and actually cares—I wouldn't have to handle everything on my own.

Sometimes I wish you were my son... Esther is so lucky to have someone like you in her life."

Her hand briefly rested on mine as she spoke, her touch light but deliberate. "You're truly one of a kind," she said softly, her eyes holding mine for a moment before she looked away, her cheeks slightly flushed.

She leaned in slightly as she talked, her perfume—a soft mix of vanilla and musk—filling the air around us.

When she got up to grab something from the other room, Susan walked deliberately, her hips swaying ever so slightly, the fabric of her skirt clinging to her curves.

She returned with a folder and sat even closer this time, placing the papers on her lap and gesturing for me to look.

"See this part here?" she asked, leaning in so our shoulders touched, her voice dropping to a more intimate tone.

At one point, as she leaned over to adjust something on the coffee table, her hand casually brushed against my thigh, lingering just a second longer than necessary.

She didn't apologize; instead, she smiled knowingly as if testing my reaction.

Her hand rested lightly on my arm as she explained, her thumb brushing back and forth absentmindedly.

When I looked up from the papers, her eyes lingered on mine a moment too long, her lips slightly parted as though she was about to say something but chose not to.

When I made a suggestion, she smiled and reached over to squeeze my hand in appreciation.

"You're always so helpful. I don't know what I'd do without you," she said, her thumb now grazing the back of my hand as she spoke.

She grew bolder as time passed. At one point, she placed her hand on my chest while laughing at something I said, her touch firm yet warm.

Her fingers spread slightly, almost as if feeling the outline of my muscles through the fabric.

"Wow," she said, her voice laced with admiration, "you really take care of yourself. That strength doesn't just come from nowhere."

After finishing the coffee, Susan suggested moving to the kitchen, claiming she needed to show me something else.

As I stood by the counter, she moved in close behind me, her hand brushing my lower back as she reached over my shoulder to grab something from a cabinet.

Her chest lightly pressed against my back, her breath warm against my neck.

"Sorry," she murmured softly, but her tone wasn't apologetic, and she stepped back just a little too slowly.

She then asked for my help opening a jar, handing it to me with both hands and leaning slightly forward, her blouse dipping enough to catch my attention.

"Wow, look at you—so strong," she said with a teasing smile as the jar lid popped off easily.

Her compliments were frequent but always mixed with a casual laugh, making it hard to tell if she was being playful or serious.

At one point, she touched my forearm as she talked, her fingers tracing lightly over my skin as if testing her limits.

When it was time for me to leave, Susan walked me to the door, her hand lightly resting on my arm as we talked.

"Thanks for coming by," she said, her blue eyes holding mine. "It's always so nice to have you around. You're... different from anyone else."

She hesitated before leaning in for a hug, her arms wrapping around me just tightly enough to feel the warmth of her body against mine.

When she pulled back, her hand lingered on my chest for a moment, her lips curving into a sly smile.

"Don't be a stranger, okay? Next time, maybe I'll cook you dinner," she said, her voice soft but laced with suggestion.

With one last lingering look, she closed the door behind me, leaving me to wonder just how calculated her every move had been.

[Author's Note:

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