#Fresh fruits in just one click

[leclerc-hs]

73 Questions with Mrs. Leclerc - cl16

pairing: husband!charles leclerc x fem!reader summary: in which you do a 73 questions interview with Vogue OR charles can't help but third wheel your interview warnings: none??? just cute fluff basically, NOT PROOFREAD word count: 2.1k author's note: I actually got a request by someone to do this and thought it was such a CUTE idea and concept. I obviously didn't do ALL 73 questions cause that would've taken forever. But thought this was a cute little piece to do. I hope you enjoy and don't forget to let me know what you think don't be shy !! xoxo

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THE DELICATE FOLDS of the pale pink sundress fluttered like petals in a gentle breeze, framing your figure with a soft, ethereal elegance. As the front door yielded to the push, the fabric danced around your legs, caressing the tender skin of your thighs with a whisper of touch. Your radiant smile illuminated the scene, a beacon of joy amidst the fluttering fabric and nervous flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

“Hey!” The male voice chimed brightly, his tone cheerful as a songbird greeting the dawn, echoing through the air with an infectious energy that mirrored your own bright smile.

“Hey!” You respond with effervescent warmth, your smile stretching across your face like a sunbeam breaking through clouds. With a graceful gesture, you swing the door open wider, revealing the inviting warmth of your home’s foyer. The soft light spills in, casting a golden glow over the polished floors and elegant furnishing. The first thing to notice is the giant painting of a Ferrari Formula One car, hung high above the entry way table.  

“Look who we have here! It’s Mrs. Leclerc!” A delicate blush warms your cheeks, a subtle reminder of the tender affection that tingles within you whenever you’re addressed as such. Though you and Charles have been together for many years, your marriage has infused your relationship with a fresh sense of intimacy and closeness. And despite that it’s been almost five years, the title of “wife” feels forever new and unfamiliar.

“On a scale of 1-10, how excited are you about life right now?”

“I would say 8, so I’m super excited!” With a gentle click, you shut the front door behind you, enveloping the foyer in a tranquility as you made your way down the hallway to the kitchen. Along the way, you stooped to pick up a scattering of children’s toys that lay scattered like confetti on the polished wooden floors, offering a quick apology for the perceived “mess.” However, you couldn’t help but inwardly smile at the orchestrated chaos around you. While the house was meticulously maintained by the cleaning company before the video shoot, every detail was carefully curated to strike the perfect balance between lived-in warmth and elegance, ensuring a setting that felt both inviting and authentic to you and the viewers.

“Any reason for that?”

In the heart of the home lies a kitchen adorned with a stunning green cabinet motif. The cabinets, painted in a rich emerald hue, exude an air of sophistication and charm, perfectly complemented by gleaming brass hardware. Sunlight filters through the vast array of windows, casting a warm glow over the polished marble countertops. 

“You mean other than the fact that the kids go back to school soon?” You and the interviewer let out a soft laugh as you made your way behind the kitchen island, opening the fridge in a smooth motion to pull out a water bottle. “Want one?”

“No, but thanks though!” His voice is light-hearted. 

As the fridge door remains open, a tantalizing glimpse is offered to the audience of its well-stocked interior. A colorful array of fresh produce fills the shelves, showing an abundance of vibrant fruits and crisp vegetables. Among the healthy offerings, assortment of juice boxes catches the eye, adding a playful touch to the wholesome scene.

“That’s a lot of juice boxes you have in there.” He makes a comment, it’s not a question, but you take it as one.

“Two kids and a husband,” You start, your tone light and casual before lowering your voice into a conspiratorial whisper for the camera, “who practically is also a kid, results in a lot of juice boxes.” With a playful wink directed at the lens, you punctuate the statement, adding a touch of humor to the scene. Setting the water bottle down on the expansive kitchen counter, you resume your easy demeanor, effortlessly blending candor and charm for your audience.

“Hey!” Your head shoots over, the camera seamlessly following your gaze to where Charles, your husband,sits on the floor of the living room, two of your kids, aged two and three, beside him with an abundance of toys strewn about. “I heard that!” Charles retorts with mock offense, a playful grin lighting up his face as he joins in the banter.

The living room exudes a chic sophistication with a distinct Formula One flair. Charcoal-gray walls provide a sleek backdrop, accentuating the mounted flat-screen television. A striking statement piece dominates one corner—a display of artwork showcasing all of the racetracks Charles has conquered – infusing the room with a sense of triumph and energy. A plush white sofa, adorned with an array of vibrant red pillows, invites relaxation and style. Across the room, a sizable shelf proudly showcases a collection of racing helmets, some belonging to Charles and others gathered over time, adding a personal touch to the space. Below the television, was a long console table that was adorned in various plants and photos of your family. You couldn’t help but smile as you glanced at them.

With a casual wave of your hand, you dismiss Charles’s playful interruption, maintaining your position at the kitchen island as the camera refocuses on you. The gesture carries an air of affectionate familiarity, a gentle reminder of the dynamic energy that permeates your bustling household.

“If you could do a love scene with anyone, who would it be?”

“Definitely Austin Butler.” You answer almost immediately, no hesitance in your voice.

“Hey!” Charles’s playful yelp echoes through the room once more, accompanied by the joyful laughter of your children. One nestled in his lap, the other engrossed in a picture book, their presence adding warmth and vitality to the room. You share a knowing smile with Charles, the affectionate banter a familiar melody to your family life.

The laughter of the interviewer joins the playful exchange. The camera effortlessly captures the dynamic interaction between all of you with ease.

You roll your eyes playfully, “Restez en dehors de ça.” Stay out of this!

“Arrête de faire semblant de vouloir faire l’amour avec quelqu’un d’autre que moi!” Stop pretending you want to make love with anybody but me!

With a mischievous gleam in your eye, you turn back to the camera, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “Can I change my answer?” You inquire, injecting a hint of playful anticipation into your tone.

“Sure,” the interviewer replies.

“You’re supposed to say no,” You quip with a chuckle.

“Oh, um no?”

With a playful pout, you glance over at Charles who is already staring at the interaction. A smile adorned on his face like he is in complete awe of you, regardless of what you are saying. “Sorry honey!” You wave your hand around. “Answers are final!”

Leaving the kitchen behind, you make your way towards the backyard, where the promise of relaxation and leisure awaits. Stepping through the door, you’re greeted by the sight of a large pool shimmering under the sunlight, its crystal-clear waters beckoning for a refreshing dip. Surrounding the pool, lounge chairs are strategically place, some on the pool’s ledge, inciting you to bask in the sun while enjoying the cool water. A wide arrangement of pool floaties from unicorns to racecars litter the pool as well.

It’s a breathtaking sight: a vast expanse of bright blue skies stretching overhead, adorned with barely a wisp of cloud in sight. The warm rays of sun dance upon your skin. With a stylish flourish, you slip on a pair of your favorite Ray-Bans, a subtle nod to your husband’s sunglass collection. 

“Vintage or new?”

You ponder for a moment as you stand in the backyard, a breeze blowing your hair behind your shoulders. “Depends, but definitely vintage.”

“Window or aisle seat?”

“Aisle, although Charles likes to take the aisle more.”

“What are three things you can’t live without?”

“Wait, do my children count as two of the three?”

“Up to you.”

“Okay, so my two children. And my lip gloss.” You laugh, pausing for effect. “Kidding! My two kids, and my lip gloss…” You pause, jokingly. “And my husband of course.” The light-hearted remark reflects the joyful chaos of humor and love in your life. “He’s really the sweetest man. I’m so lucky.”

The glass door slides open with a whisper, and into the frame steps Charles, his presence incessant. With a carefree demeanor, he approaches you clad in a pair of baggy jeans and a plain white t-shirt that stretched at the seams from his muscles. He presses soft kisses to your cheeks, the stubble of his own rubbing against your smooth skin, his love evident in each tender kiss.

“Désolé,” Sorry. He apologizes before pecking another kiss to your cheek. “Tellement ambrassable.” Just so kissable. He places one more on your cheek, your face bright red from the camera’s catching all of this.

“Looks like he can’t be far from you for very long.”

Charles looks at the camera, a glint in his eye with a large smile, like he was the happiest man on earth, and nothing could dampen his spirits. Especially with you nearby. “Est-ce que tu la vois?” Do you see her?

The interviewer, unaware of Charles’s words, simply nods in response behind the camera lens, acknowledging the affection in his tone. Later translations will reveal the depth of Charles’s words no doubt. Elle est tellement belle. Bien sûr, je ne peux pas rester loin longtemps.” She’s so beautiful. Of course, I can’t stay far long.

Your face is bright red as Charles remains at your side.

“Where are the kids?”

“Put them down for a nap!” Charles answers, his arm slung over your shoulder as he leans on you comfortably. 

As the interviewer continues the questionnaire, Charles can’t resist interjecting with playful remarks and comments on almost every question. His spontaneous interruptions add an element of humor and spontaneity to the video, turning what could have been a standard interview into an entertaining and engaging exchange.

“How do you define beauty?” “My wife.” “Charles, the questions are for me!”

"What do you love most about your body?" "That's an easy one...I think her--" Charles begins, but you swat his chest and cut him off. "I love my arms. Not because they're that nice but they give me the ability to hold my children." Charles clicks his tongue, hating that you even implied something about yourself as 'not that nice'.

"Least favorite color?" "Red." Charles lets out a large gasp with a string of phrases in French, clearly hurt by your response. "It's a joke, mon amour!" "How did you know you were in love?" You look at Charles then, his eyes already on you, a soft smile pulling on both of your lips. "I can't remember a time when I wasn't in love with him. Probably when I realized I would rather be awake in the middle of the night, since he was traveling so much, just to talk to him for even a few minutes, instead of going to sleep." Charles plays with the ends of your hair, twirling the ends around his fingers as he chimes in. "We've known each other for so long. But, when I first met her, it was like meeting someone I've known my entire life. There was no awkward silences between us. We just clicked."

“Diamonds or pearls?” “Pearls.” “Mon chou, don’t lie.” “I’m not!” “The diamond on your finger says otherwise!”

“If you made a documentary, what would it be about?” “Charles’ brain. I seriously question what goes on in there sometimes.” “Hey! It’s only you…”  You raise your eyebrows at him, like he’s a liar. “And racing.” “Definitely racing.”

“If you had a tattoo, where would it be?”

Charles smirks deeply, like he knows something the world doesn’t, the interviewer picks up on it. “Wait, you have a tattoo? Can we see it?”

“No! It’s for me only.”

You playfully swat at Charles’ chest, a playful blush coloring your cheeks as you both wander throughout the house, showcasing its beautiful décor. Despite your embarrassment at Charles’ antics, you can’t help but be thankful for him easing your nerves. You weren’t one for the public eye, normally. So, when you agreed to this interview it came out as quite a surprise.

“Okay final question of the day.” 

You both stand by the front door, the interviewer on the front step outside of the home. 

“Hugs or kisses?”

“Definitely ki—” You don’t get to finish your answer as Charles’ fingers grasp onto your neck, his fingers sprawled along your jawline as well, and tugs your face into his. He shuts the door as soon as his tongue slips into your mouth.

It’s a few seconds before you push him off you. “You’re unbelievable!”

A giant smile spreads across his face as he looks down at you. “Only for you, mon chou!”

[wandaslittlepsycho]

Precious

pairing: 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚣𝚢!𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚊 ༝༝ 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

summary: your bunny slips through the crack of your front door and you run after her in hopes of catching the pet again. You get lost but your time still ticks, nightfall inching closer and closer as you inevitably sink further into the woods. Luckily, your eyes spot a cabin, and you become acquaintances with the unusual redhead that resides there.

warnings: dubcon, filthy smutty smut smut, HEAVYYYY dacryphilia, groping, dry humping, praise kink, thigh riding (r receiving), mid writing, wanda is lowkey a sadist, slightly unhinged crazy yet loveable and sexy cabin wanda, age gap > r is 20 w is 32

A/N: first fic!!! hi… im very new to writing fics so please be nice ૮꒰ྀི >⸝⸝⸝<꒱ྀིა (i wrote this listening to a true crime documentary idk)

kind of a messy plot but I still hope my little freaks enjoy…… and I’m also sorry this took longer than expected I just kept contemplating if it was good or absolute shit </3

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this is a dark fic. 18+. wlw. men & minors dni!

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It’s getting pretty late…

You think to yourself, hugging your shoulders as you look up at the overcast sky.

How did I end up here in the first place?

✦

You move a leaf to the side and pick the fresh strawberry that was stashed there, rinsing it in your small bucket of water and taking a mouthful of the delicious treat.

You hear a shuffle beside you. Turning your head, you see a white bunny hiding behind one of your sunflower pots. You smile and place another strawberry onto the ground before slowly walking away. Your eyes relish how cute the little animal is as they chomp away at your colourful fruit.

You stand in the corner of your garden and decide from then on, you’d feed the hungry bunnies that would stroll into your neighbourhood.

A few days pass and you quickly became friends with two specific bunnies who you named Clover and Daisy. You eventually took them in as your own, rottenly spoiling both of the creatures. You loved having them around because living alone in a small town that was an hour away from the city can definitely become lonely.

“This tastes like candy to you doesn’t it Daisy?” You say as you hold out your hand and watch her nibble it up. The fur around her mouth is stained purple, you laugh at the sight.

“Okay that’s enough blueberries for tonight! You’ll get sick if you keep eating those.” You click the plastic container shut, standing up and walking into your kitchen. You place the container in the side compartment of your fridge for tomorrow and stroll back into your living room.

Your brows furrow. Daisy is gone. Daisy and Clover are such good bunnies, they never leave your sight for more than a minute. You assume she ran to her sister Clover, but your eyes widen in horror when you see your front door slightly more cracked open than it was before you left.

You anxiously open your phone and dial your best friend Frankie. You ramble to her about how stupid you felt for leaving the door open, like you are an irresponsible parent who’s no smarter than a bag of rocks. She calmly tells you to go look for Daisy and that she’ll come over as soon as she can to watch Clover.

“Thank you so so much, Frankie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You sigh in relief, a hand pressed over your chest. You feel your heart jump underneath your palm and your lips trembling with every breath.

“It’s no problem, Y/N/N. Now go look for that bunny, I’ll be over in 5.”

“Bye, thank you again..” You hang up the phone and dart out the door. You frantically look through your shrubs and call her name, but a bright white spot in your peripheral steals your attention.

There she is, bouncing her way into the open forest across the road from you. As soon as she hops out of your view you race towards her, carelessly running past two moving cars. You ignore the frustrated yelling and the beeping horns, continuing to boost into daisies direction.

“DAISY! WAIT!!”

You yell, but your shouting only seems to spur her on. You run after her and neither of you lose pace. You turn corners, run through mud and almost slip doing so at least two times. The animal suddenly picks up it’s speed, turning abruptly and disappearing into a thick bush. You get on your knees and practically rip this bush to shreds, but she was already long gone. Daisy is no more.

You feel tears sting your eyes, ears and cheeks becoming hot from your stress. You sniffle and wipe your tears with the sleeve of your jacket. You knew it was impossible to look for her now. That bunny became your life in just a couple of days, she felt like a childhood pet. The thought of never seeing her again made your heartstrings tie themselves into knots.

You lose the path you were on but you couldn’t care less. You lost your beloved bunny baby; life is no longer worth living. You wonder if Clover’s okay, and how exactly you’d break the news to her.

So lost and full of woe, mind not even switched on, you didn’t notice the thick tree root in front of you until you stub your foot against it and fall forward. You wince and slowly stand up again. Dusting the crunchy leaves off of your clothes, you use the back of your hand to wipe the dripping bead of blood from your cheekbone.

Great, a cut. I’ll have to clean that up when I get home..

You wonder aimlessly with your head hung low. A brisk breeze that brushes past you is what makes you finally look up.

You hug your shoulders as you stare at the gloomy airspace. The sun isn’t beaming, only a variation of different grey clouds flood the sky.

A person? This far out on in the woods?

Wanda thinks. She watches you with a deranged, curious look as you weave yourself through the webs and bushes, seemingly extra careful about tree roots.

You look up from the ground, scanning the area around you and pause when you see the warm glow of her cabin.

My god, she’s gorgeous.

She takes a swift step back so she’s not in the frame of the window anymore, her brows furrowing. She stares at the wall, she hasn’t seen an actual person in so long.

What is a girl like you doing traipsing in the woods?

She peeks again and now you’re making your way over, big wary eyes cautiously examining your surroundings. A shiver rocks through you as you cough into your elbow, then using that arm to place three firm knocks on the door.

You sigh while you wait for someone to answer the door. You switch from tippy toes to the heel of your feet in a nervous manner. The cabin looks great, almost pristine, there’s no way it’s abandoned.

You feel stupid for going into a cabin in the woods. It’s like some dumb movie; you’re just hoping you don’t end up dead. You expect to see an old, wrinkled man the size of a third grader, but your eyes widen when a tall red headed woman swings the door open. You stutter, stunned that a woman like her would live in a place so isolated.

Holy shit, she’s fine.

“Hi, um.. I know it’s a lot to ask but can I stay here for a little bit? I… got lost.” You fiddle with your fingers. She chuckles as she crosses her arms, biting her lip and letting her eyes run up and down your fidgety figure.

“No it’s not asking anything at all. It’s not like I get visitors very often.” She moves to the side and welcomes you in. You look up at her and mumble a small thank you, slowly stepping inside her warm homestead.

The smell of firewood burning and sweet lavender conquer your senses. The comforting atmosphere relaxes you despite how unfamiliar it is. You kick off your boots and grab them so you can neatly place them next to the door. She shuts the door and clicks it locked, quietly making her way over to what looks like her kitchen.

You drink in the sight around you. A tall, cobblestone fireplace lined up against the wall with wood already burning inside of it. A soft lounge suite with a fluffy mat sitting right underneath it. There’s a short hallway and two doors, one you assume leading into her bedroom and the other probably being her bathroom.

One thing you notice in particular is a painting, one with two women sitting on a red velvet couch. One is dressed in white, the other is dressed in black and they both have lace blindfolds wrapped around their heads.

Their Victorian dresses were detailed and long, their lips so close but afraid to touch and give in.

You look away and clench your fists. Your face is now hot, when you entered a remote cabin in the woods, a gay victorian painting was the last thing you expected.

“Take a seat, make yourself comfortable.” The woman’s hoarse voice echoes through the room. Your ears perk up when they catch a touch of an accent.

Is she some type of Russian? That’s hot.

Your anxious form shifts over to her couch to sit down. You sigh in relief, your aching bones melting into the man made cloud that was this woman’s sofa.

“So what’s your name, milaya?” The woman hands you a cup. Your cold fingers feel fuzzy against the hot mug, shuffling back further into her couch so you can sit up comfortably.

“Y/N. You?”

“Wanda.”

A small smile sits on her face that is on some level, disturbing. It’s such a beautiful smile but you can feel something is not right with her. Your intuition has never made itself more distinct, it was less noticeable when you were walking alone outside.

The room feels like it’s getting smaller, the claustrophobia whips the air right out of your lungs. Your eyes flicker between hers. The room starts to spin. Your ears start to ring. Before you could pass out cold, she cups your chin, the gentle gesture pulling you out of your panicked state.

“That’s a nasty cut isn’t it? Would you like me to take care of that?” She says, her tone coaxing. Your curious eyes linger on her,

Why is this stranger being so generous?

If someone entered your home and needed to stay the night, you’d tell them to get lost. She caresses your face softly while she stares at the wound.

“No it’s oka-“ She suddenly pushes a finger to the fresh cut, forcing you to wince and pull away from her. She looks at you in a way you can’t describe, your reaction seemingly piqueing her interest. Her pupils dilate but not enough for you to notice. You look at her with fearful eyes and think to yourself,

Who would do that?

“Actually, that would be nice. Thank you..”

~

Your eyes switch between the steaming drink in your hand and the obviously unhinged redhead sitting next to you. Her aura is intimidating, but you convince yourself it’s paranoia.

I’m in a remote cabin deep in the woods.

Who wouldn’t be unsettled? She’s nice and she helped you…stop being dumb Y/N!

“Thank you again for cleaning my cut, Wanda.” You try to strike up a conversation, but all you’re met with is painful silence. She watches your lips touch the ring of the porcelain teacup, then moving her eyes up to meet your own.

“You’re very observant aren’t you?” You refer to her endless stare, disguising your discomfort with a small chuckle. Her smile widens.

"Fascinuješ ma, miláčik.” “You fascinate me, darling.”

Your brows squeeze together. You wish you could understand what she said, but it felt rude asking her to repeat that in English. You result in shyly looking away and focus on your dangling feet.

Her hand occasionally runs down your back or strokes your arm. Her icy featherlight touches cause goosebumps to ride over your skin. She notices your eyes following her fingers, a mischief smirk hiking up her cheeks.

“You’re so lucky I’m here to help you, dear. What was a girl like you doing in the woods all alone?” Her hand lands on your knee, slowly climbing up closer to your heat and lightly massaging the flesh there. You squirm when she inches closer to your mound, but you’re in her home. She could do anything to you if you said something that upset her.

What if she’s just being nice? I don’t want to offend her…

“I- uh- I was hunting?” You try to paint yourself as tough but fail spectacularly; you can tell by the way she squints her eyes when she hears your answer.

“If that were true, you’d have hunting gear on you, sweetie.” She moves your hair to the other side of your neck to expose the milky skin there. She gawks at your neck like a predator creeping on her prey, ready to pounce on you at any given moment.

The thought of kissing and licking at your silky skin and the vivid image of you biting your plush pink lips made her tremble with desire.

You shrink, staring at the drink in your hands and feeling a strike of vulnerability as you quietly say the words, “I was chasing a bunny..”

“Aww aren’t you precious?” She praises. She toys with the soft threads of your hair, your cheeks glowing a rosy pink from her comment. Her hand squeezes your thigh more roughly, the unexpected act making you jump.

“Such a pretty thing.” She whispers to herself. You don’t catch her words, so you hum and tilt your head, showing your confusion in hopes she would repeat herself.

“Oh… nothing.” She quickly replaces her shock with a crooked grin. Your lips stretch into a small and nervous smile, slowly putting the cup to your mouth again.

A few more moments of silence are present. The crackling of burning wood and the crickets chirping in the distance gave you a chance to finally breathe, although you still struggle to ignore her invasive presence.

“Put the drink down.” You look at her in surprise. You stutter, taken aback by her orders but don’t dare ask any questions. You lick your lips and shuffle, leaning forward to sit the drink on her coffee table. You then move back against the couch and stare into the orange flames in front of you.

“Do you like when people are rough with you, angel?”

You freeze hearing her question. She tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear ever so gently, grinning when she sees the sheer terror written on your face. There was something eerie about the way she had asked you, a corrupted little twinkle beaming from her eyes.

“Well, no.. N-Not really why?” Your voice is shaking. You know for sure now that this woman is not in her right mind. She could be capable of doing anything and you wouldn’t expect it. She flashes you a charming smile as she continues to twirl and play with your hair, leaning closer to you before whispering,

“Can I tell you a secret?” Your breath hitches softly and your body tenses at the close proximity. You refuse to look at her. You cement your eyes to the flickering fire in front of you. Her hand smoothly travels from your thigh to the zip of your corduroy jacket, slowly pulling down at the metal teeth to reveal your white v-neck shirt and ruby necklace. The sound of your zipper in the unsettling silence makes your skin crawl. You could almost hear the ominous, suspenseful background music. You don’t know what would happen if you deny her, so you hesitantly nod your head.

“I like hurting people… Especially pretty toys like you. I haven’t done it in a long time though.” Her eyes hungrily take in your chilled expression. You gulp when she pulls the jacket off of your shoulders and throws to the side.

“I love to see girls cry, tears running down their sweet little faces…” Her hands rub your upper arms soothingly as she rubbed her nose into the nape of your neck, inhaling your scent. You found yourself unable to move or respond, giving in to her game and listening to her sick train of thought.

“Can I make you cry, please, sweet girl?” She mumbles into your neck, gently nipping at the sensitive skin there. Your breathing becomes heavier, needing her so very badly you start to tune out the blaring alarms in your head.

“Wanda listen-” She moves on top of you. She situates herself between your legs giving you no chance to close them, running her hands up and down your thighs. It all happened so fast.

“Pretty please? You’d look so good..” She becomes breathless at the thought, lunging forward and forcefully pushing her lips onto yours. Her lips feel pillowy and soft against yours, she smells of sweet vanilla and a smoky but subtle cinnamon; the mix makes your brain go dizzy with want. She tangles her hands with yours so she can pin your frantic ones onto the couch. Butterflies dance in your stomach, adrenaline rushing through your veins. Her kiss is rough but somehow so soft at the same time, the conflicted feeling makes your heart flutter.

She puts all her body weight onto you, grinding her crotch into yours as she murmurs praises into your mouth. “You’re so fucking cute,” “It’s gonna feel so so good, just let me touch you..”

She slides her tongue across your lip, silently telling you to open your mouth. She angrily tightens her grip on your hands when you groan and clench your jaw shut, forbidding her access.

“Open your mouth, or I’ll find another way to make it stay open.” You whine quietly, slowly opening your mouth and letting her slide in. You whimper and squirm when her hands land on your hips, guiding you to grind against her knee.

“There you go, so so pretty grinding on me like that..” You grab handfuls of her sweater, the fabric of your cotton panties rubbing against you creating the perfect friction. You softly moan her name, back arching while hiding your face in her neck, ashamed how riled up you are from being taken advantage of. One of her hands move from your hip to your thigh, exploring the rest of your body before snaking up your stomach to grope at your breasts.

“Fuck,” She whimpers before biting down on your lip. She twists and teases your nipples between her fingers, feasting on the sight of your pathetic writhing.

“Wanda!” Your movements against her thigh become more frantic, so blissed out you couldn’t care about how needy and dumb you must look.

Your hands advance to her biceps, clutching onto her as you try reach the high you so deeply crave. Your heart thuds in your chest, sweat glistening on your forehead and gasping for air. Your tears soak her shirt, hating yourself for giving in to her but also not willing to stop.

“Cum, make a mess for me bunny..” Her hand grabs your chin and holds it still. You foolishly kept trying to turn your head, but your actions cease when her hand moves from your chin to wrap around your throat.

“Look at me when you cum.” She forces her face impossibly closer to yours, jutting out her jaw and admiring the sparkling tears falling from your eyes. Her breathing becomes ragged listening to your whines and sobs, the throb between her legs intensifying.

“I don’t want to..”

“I don’t care if you want to or not. I won’t let you move until you do.”

Your mouth falls open and your eyes roll to the back of your head, her cruel words somehow pushing you over the edge. Everything becomes white, your thighs shake and your body tenses. Waves of pleasure crash down on you, the euphoric feeling pulsing through you from head to toe.

She eagerly watches you fall apart from your first climax, knowing that she’s not even halfway done with you. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, eyes struggling to stay open and arms spread over the couch.

She carefully pushes her knee further into your pussy, your pleas and protests only making her more excited for what she plans next.

“I’m going to have so much fun with you, angel.”

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[buckyalpine]

Hi!!!! I love your work and talent, you are so amazing!💗 I was wondering if you could do a light angst fic. Like bucky is a player who is just running through women, and the avenger reader has a big crush on him . She has to watch him string girls through the tower all the time and it makes her sad. Bucky's type is dark,red lip, baddie but reader is the mom of the friend group and wears pink and is super sweet and a little awkward, she is also a mutant who has like earth powers. So whenever she's happy or laughing flowers will bloom in her hair. She's so cute. Kinda like the trope: she fell first but he fell harder. And like bucky realizes that he's madly in love with our sweet baby angel reader. And the FLUFF!! 💗💗💗

Thank you, love Binks 💖

Yes. Yesyesyes. I hope you're all ready cause I sat with this piece for weeks. Jealously, Misunderstandings, love sick Bucky, idiots in love, SO MUCH ANGST AND FLUFF . Protective best friend Steve and dash of smut cause I can't help myself, its so sweet and soft and I love these two, put myself in my feelings with their spicy and sweet loving.

-

"See you later Sargent" A gorgeous woman walked by the kitchen on her way out or the tower, winking over her shoulder and blowing a kiss to the soldier who smirked at her in response. Her lipstick hadn't budged even after a night of who knows what with Bucky, her perfectly curved hips swaying along with the click of her heels.

You were busy with making breakfast, dustings of flour covering your nose and cheeks, still in your baby pink pj's, looking the total opposite of the gorgeous girl Bucky spent the night with.

"Damn Barnes" Tony whistled after the she had left, clapping a hand on his shoulder, "Where do you find em'-Ow!" Tony yelped when Nat gave his ear a flick, cocking her eyebrow up in amusement.

"I'll let Pepper know you're curious-

"Nope. No. I was just admiring Terminators taste" Tony threw his hands up, swiping a hot pancake from the stack you were plating making you giggle, tiny daisies blooming around your hair "These are delicious Petal. I'll never get tired of seeing that" Tony smiled, looking at the fresh little flowers that reflected your mood, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before returning to the lab.

"Sure, admiring taste" Nat snorted while Bucky snickered, taking a seat at the kitchen island; his fluffy hair still messy from bed. You set down a plate in front of him, adding butter and some fresh strawberries on the side just the way he liked.

"Here you go Sargent" You smiled softly before getting started on cutting up more fruit for Steve and Sam who would be returning from their run soon.

"These are amazing" Bucky hummed, reaching for more; he'd never get tired of your cooking. You tried to bite back a smile while vines of baby pink roses weaved their way through your hair, matching the fuzzy feeling the soldier made you feel. The flowers were not missed by Bucky who watched you continue to flit about the kitchen like a little garden fairy, making sure everyone would have something for breakfast. He couldn't help but chuckle at the way you crawled up onto the counters like a cat to reach the highest shelves, a few knotty tendrils sneaking their way through your hair indicating your frustrations when you nearly dropped a cup.

"Do you have different flowers for different moods?" Bucky continued to watch you while you slinked off the counter, starting on a smoothie.

"Sort of? Yeah I guess" You thought to yourself, noting you'd often have yellow ones when you'd laugh, or purple ones when you were excited. You only ever got pink ones around Bucky; the only person to make you feel warm and shy and soft. You were caught off guard the first time you saw the tiny pink buds in your hair the same day you met him when you joined the team. No one else seemed to notice, too busy admiring the fact that gorgeous petals decorated your hair.

Everyone except Bucky.

The soldier was trained to notice everything.

He'd seen every type of flower adorn your hair but these ones were just around him.

"What do the little pink roses mean you're feeling?" Bucky asked, cocking his head when you looked at him like a deer in headlights.

Shit.

"It-I-happy! It means I'm happy" You stuttered out unconvincingly while Bucky hummed, cleaning off his plate before heading down to the gym, taking one last glance over his shoulder before rounding the corner.

Those tiny pink roses suited you perfectly; the human embodiment of a little fairy.

Ever since you'd joined the team, they were blessed with a full breakfast almost every morning, sometimes even dinner. Outside of your role as an Avenger, you took on a nurturing role within the team and of course that was just who you were, being so in tune with nature and naturally caring for those around you. Still, it was evident you went above and beyond just instinct when it came to taking care of others; you were very much the mom of the group. Initially Bucky found it confusing, wondering why you were so nice to everyone, always checking on their needs and being prepared for just about anything. He was so used to functioning on his own, he found it jarring when you were looking out for him too; didn't you know who he was? Why were you being nice to him?

He didn't even have it in him to give you the cold shoulder like he did with everyone else. What kind of person would he be if he was rude to the sweetest person he'd ever met. You were just so precious and sweet and you always smelled like fresh flowers and sunshine, he would've basked under your light for hours on end if you let him-

Bucky shook his head, breaking away from the train of thoughts he was having about you yet again. You didn't make sense. More specifically, him thinking of you didn't make sense. He was rough, rugged, made of muscle and metal, didn't like most people and the last time he'd been nurturing was back when he'd nurse Steve back to health more than 70 years ago.

You on the other hand were literally made of flowers, combined with soft sweetness, shy smiles and giggles. You were cute. Too cute. He had no business thinking about you, ignoring the fluttery jitter in his heart as he tossed a wink to a SHIELD agent who was training at the weights. She had joined recently, typically taking on missions which required her to go under cover in skin tight dresses and bodysuits; it was perfect for her given her tall and toned build. The woman smirked in response, biting her dark red painted lip before making her way over to him by the punching bags.

"Hey Sarge" she purred, bringing her hand up to toy with his dogtags, tugging at them suggestively, "Busy tonight?"

"We're having a movie thing" Bucky shrugged, not suggesting they had to do anything else after but if that's where the night led then-

"Hmm, I'll see you later then" She batted her lashes at him before going back to her set.

This made sense.

Casual. Sexy. Flirty.

Everything Bucky was good at and comfortable with. No feelings, no attachments. No deep, undying love he felt for a certain sweet girl on his team that he'd give his life for.

This made perfect sense.

-

You were the last to make it down to movie night after spending most of the evening prepping drinks and snacks for others. Movie nights were rare and it was even more rare for everyone to be present. You made sure there was something for each member of the team, from sour candy to chocolate, chips, cookies, tiny sandwiches and an array of drinks you'd set up on the coffee table.

You stood at the edge of the living room dressed in your warm oversized sweater and mismatched fluffy socks, nervously peering around the room for an empty space; usually you'd curl up on the two seater sofa with a thick fuzzy blanket draped over you but-

Your heart sank seeing yet another beautiful girl cuddled up next to Bucky, taking up all the space on the couch. A part of you contemplated on going back to your room; the sinking feeling in your stomach worsened seeing the new agent adjust herself until she was pressed right against the soldier. Why did you have to fall for for the person who wouldn't look at you twice. You were dressed in clothes too big and soft, a stark contrast to the matching silk lounge set she was wearing, leaving no doubt over how absolutely perfect her body was.

"Hey Petal, c'mere" Steve noticed you looking for a spot, patting he seat beside him, shifting over so you could join. You smiled at the Captain, quietly shuffling through the room, hiding into the cushions as the movie started. Your heart dropped further each time you heard the girl Bucky was with giggle, slinking around his lap while he gave her his flirty smirk. There were occasional times where flowers wouldn't bloom in your hair and this was one of them.

Steve noticed your less than enthusiastic demeanor, catching you glancing over at the brunette super soldier and his friend for the night, internally rolling his eyes at what an idiot his best friend was. He threw his arm around you, pulling you in to snuggle with him, whispering his own commentary as the movie progressed, hoping to lighten your mood.

You giggled, a few yellow flowers blossoming in your hair making Steve grin. Bucky watched carefully, a new emotion flaring in his chest as he watched bright petals fall onto your lap each time you laughed. He didn't like the new feeling that started off as warm to blazing hot, what was it he was even feeling-

Irritation? Sure a bit.

Confusion? Most certainly but not quite.

Jealously.

That's what he was feeling. He wanted to be the one who caused gorgeous tendrils of flowers to bloom, the one to make you giggle and laugh, the one who got to snuggle up with you. He was envious over how lucky Steve was, getting to cuddle up with such a soft bunny, his jealously momentarily interrupted when he took a moment to look at what you were wearing.

You looked so comfy with your warm sweater, your feet nice and toasty with your favorite socks. Bucky remembered you talking to him about them once, reading socks you'd called them.

"They're super soft and warm!" you grinned, clutching them to your chest after a trip to a book store. "I've been wanting a pair for ages. I finally caved and got them, I can't wait to put them on"

Bucky remembered chuckling to himself over how excited you'd gotten over a pair of socks, a few buds of lavender poking through your hair from how relaxed and calm they made you feel.

You looked so soft to cuddle up with like a little bear he'd hold to his chest, one that would protect him and keep him warm and safe. He wished he had a spot beside him because you would've sat where you always do and it would be him with his arm around you instead of Steve. He didn't want anything else. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to create some distance between himself and the agent, her close proximity suddenly feelings much to hot. She frowned, feeling him pull back, scooting over till she was cuddled up with him again.

Great.

"Did you want me to grab you something?" Steve asked you as he reached over for some chips, popping a few into his mouth. Before you could respond, you saw the woman whisper something in Bucky's ear, winking playfully before sitting up and taking his hand, the both of them leaving the movie half way. You felt like throwing up knowing he was taking her to his bedroom though you knew you had no right to be upset. He wasn't yours and he was welcome to do as he pleased though that didn't make the pain go away.

Bucky's POV

"How about it Sarge" She moved her hand up his thigh, giving it a squeeze, not bothering to wait for the movie to finish. Bucky stared at her like a deer in headlights while she cocked her head waiting for a response. Bucky glanced over to you, his heart breaking seeing your face fall. "Bucky? Are you listening to me?"

Bucky blinked realizing he was paying attention to you, mumbling an apology before turning to the agent. He didn't know who he was fooling but it was getting embarrassing, especially when he knew Steve was glaring at him from across the room. Neither of them had to open their mouths to understand the silent conversation they were having through their eyes alone.

"You're an idiot"

"Shut up"

"You know you like her"

"I-I don't..."

"Then why do you keep glaring at me like I stole your girl punk"

"Don't worry about it"

"You better figure it out before you hurt her more"

"She likes me?"

"You're an idiot"

"Jerk"

That did it. Bucky couldn't' last another second seeing your petals fall, the flowers Steve brought all retreating away and he couldn't sworn he saw you blink back tears. He couldn't keep doing this.

"Um, yeah sure" Bucky nodded, leading the woman away, walking past the elevators and towards the compound exist instead. As soon as he'd told the new agent he just couldn't do it he ran back to the living room in hopes of finding you only to find your spot empty.

You did your best to bite down on your trembling lip but it didn't work. As soon as the first whimper slipped out, Steve hugged you softly, telling you to to go to your room. You looked at him through wet lashes, his soft blue eyes filled with understanding. You rushed straight to your room, zooming right past Bucky's hoping you wouldn't have to hear anything, curling up into a ball in your bed where you wept under the covers.

Why did you fall for him?

Bucky looked over to Steve who nodded towards the elevators that took you to your floor, the super soldier wasting no time pressing the button to the 4th floor. He was at your door as soon as the elevator dinged open, softly knocking while his stomach continued to churn.

What would you think of him.

Why didn't he just accept his feelings the second he fell in love with those pretty little pink roses?

God you probably hated him now.

Bucky nervously chewed his lip,

"Petal?" Bucky called for you, hoping you'd open the door, his his heart hammering against his chest hearing soft sniffles from the other side of the door. "Petal, can you open the door sweets?"

He heard you continue to softly cry, his body working before his mind could catch up as he let himself into your room. He hated the sight of the little ball buried under a pile of blankets, hiding away from the world with a broken heart because of him. He made his way to your bed, sitting on the edge, petting the blanket gently to let you know he was there.

"Bucky?" You shuffled some of the blanket off, surprised to see him there, what was he doing in your room? Wasn't he spending the night with the girl he'd brought? Why did he look so distraught? You sat up with concern, looking him over to see if he was hurt because why was he here with you when he should be with her?

"Did-did you need something, is everything okay?" You tried to keep you voice steady, quickly wiping away your tears and forcing a smile that didn't quite meet your eyes.

"No sweet girl, everything isn't okay" Bucky whispered, smiling at your confused pout, his hand coming up to brush some of the strands of hair that were near your forehead. He let his hand linger on your cheek, wiping away your wet cheeks with his thumb before sitting closer to you. "Why were you crying"

You averted your eyes as soon as he asked the question, staring at your lap instead, playing with your fingers. Your voice was caught in your throat, shrugging as if you didn't know the answer. Bucky was surprised with himself, equally shy to actually say anything even though he wanted to pour his heart out. With others the smooth talking, the flirting, the boyish smirks came easy.

Not with you.

Not with his little fairy.

"Y/n, please" He tilted your chin to meet his puppy like eyes, hoping you'd understand how he felt without saying anything. His innocent gaze caused your cheeks to heat up, feeling his rough calloused hands touching you so softly. You bit your lip as your hair betrayed you, pink petals starting to decorate your hair.

"What do the little pink roses mean?" He whispered with hope in his voice, his heart aching with need seeing your shy smile, "Please tell me pretty girl. I- I only see them when I'm around you"

"It-it means-" you hesitated, scared this would all come crashing and burning if you told him the truth. Maybe he was just being nice, pausing his date to check on you. Or maybe-Just maybe? "I like you"

Had he not had super hearing Bucky would've missed your near silent whisper. The blush on his cheeks matched the flowers in your hair as he reached out for you, pulling you to his chest.

"C'mere my precious little petal" Bucky cooed, scooping you in his arms. You squeaked in surprised before giggling into his chest, the sound making Bucky's heart swell. "There she is" He smiled against your hair seeing little buds blooming again, the tiny pink roses he loved so much sprouting to life.

"Don't you have a date" You asked hesitantly while Bucky shook his head, holding onto you tighter.

"You should've been my date petal, m'sorry for not telling you how I felt about you earlier. I was scared"

"Scared?" You cupped his scruffy cheek, letting your thumb stroke his beard while he nodded, leaning into your touch.

"Scared I wasn't right for you. It didn't feel right falling in love with someone so precious when you're the complete opposite of me" His confession caused stray tears to slip down your cheeks while Bucky kissed them away. "But I promise, if you'd let me have you, I'd take care of you and love you with my whole heart. I promise I'd never hurt you sweets, I've fallen so hard for you, there's no one else I'd rather be with"

You couldn't help yourself, pulling him down for a kiss, giggling at the surprised squeak he let out before groaning and melting into your sweetness.

"I'm yours Jamie"

Stop here if the fluff was enough. Cause next is their sweet love making.

I know it's not part of the ask but imagine their first night together where Bucky doesn't want to over step so he doesn't make a move. He notices you being more cuddly and shy, burrowing into him when you're in his room and that's when he sees gorgeous deep red roses blooming in your hair. He knows by now how to read your mood based on your flowers but he hadn't seen this before.

"Petal?"

"What is it Buck" You look at him with wide doe eyes, hoping he doesn't feel the the heat you feel radiating through your body. You need him. It's more than just physical; you need him as close as possible in the most intimate way because you adore him so much.

"Your hair sweet girl" He runs his fingers through your hair, stroking the velvety petals making you whine from sensitivity, immediately silencing yourself from embarrassment. "What do you need love, you can tell me"

"Need you closer" You whispered, nuzzling your face into his neck where you could breathe in his cologne and a scent that was distinctly him.

"Closer how baby, you're-" It takes a moment for the pieces to click for Bucky to figure out just how much closer you need him, moving his hands to your hips, rubbing them up and down. "oh. OH. Is that all baby? Need me extra close?"

You nodded with another whine while Bucky moved you to lay against his pillows before slowly undressing you until you were both bare with nothing separating you.

"Bucky please, just-just want you" On any other night, you'd allow him to tease and toy with your body but you needed him so badly, your body throbbing, feeling more empty than ever.

"Shhh, m'here baby, it's okay, breathe for me petal, okay?" He stroked your hair while rubbing his weeping tip through your folds gathering your slick before pressing his cockhead against your entrance, "m'right here"

You both gasped at the feeling of him pushing his length inside, his movements slow until he was buried to the hilt. Your pussy quivered trying to pull him in deeper, tears welling along your lash line as he started to move, hardly pulling out, keeping his cock deep inside you.

"Look at these pretty roses" Bucky whispered against your lips as he rocked his hips, his hands laced with yours while more flowers bloomed, your legs moving to wrap tightly around his waist.

"All-all just for you Bucky" You hiccupped with pleasure between moans feeling a different level of satisfaction with him inside you. You finally felt complete as he moved faster, clinging onto him so you'd feel his full body weight lay on you. "More-I-I need more"

You'd never felt like this before, your powers starting to manifest throughout the room as you grew closer and closer to your orgasm. Dark green stems crawled up the bed posts as he fucked you harder, your gorgeous floral scent sending Bucky into over drive. He was the only one who'd make you feel like this, the only person to ever get to see those dark red petals strewn across his bed.

There was something so intimate knowing no one else would ever get to see you like this, no one else would smell how sweet you were when he drove you mad with pleasure.

All the dark red roses full of love and lust just for him.

"I'll give you more pretty girl" Bucky growled, his own high licking down his spine feeling your pussy tighten around him, begging for him to keep going.

"Don't-please don't stop" you begged, clawing at his back, "I-I'm gonna-"

"Cum baby, cum for me petal, give it to me" He pleaded right back, sweat beading at his forehead, his pace growing sloppy. Your back arched off the bed as he reached to rub your sensitive bud sending your nerves into over drive. "OH BUCKY"

As soon as he felt your pussy clamp around his cock as you cried out in pleasure Bucky moaned loudly, tucking his face into your neck as he spilled into you.

"Take it love, t-take it" He stuttered, trembling as the last of his orgasm dribbled into you. He watched in awe as the deep red petals that previously covered the room disappeared into thin hair, his classic favorite little pink roses decorating your hair once more. Bucky pulled the sheets over you both, holding you to his chest while kissing your forehead at you closed your eyes.

"Sleep tight, petal"

[23victoria]

34 + 35

pairings: 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗅𝖾𝗋𝖼 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

warnings: 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍 (𝗐𝗋𝖺𝗉 𝗂𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝖺𝗉 𝗂𝗍), 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗀𝗇𝖺𝗇𝗍

authors note: 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗅𝖾𝗋𝖼 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝗁𝗆𝗆! 𝗂 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍 𝗂'𝗏𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇....𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝖾𝗇𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁! 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄, 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾𝗌, 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽!! 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒!! 🤍

𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗇𝖺 𝖻𝖾 𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗀𝖾𝖽 ��𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌?! CLICK HERE

1k celebration f1 masterlist

The sun peeks through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the bedroom as you begin to stir. The smell of something delicious wafts through the air, pulling you from your slumber. You stretch, the soft sheets rustling around you, and that's when you see Charles standing in the doorway, a tray in his hands and a loving smile on his face.

"Good morning, baby," he says, his voice filled with affection.

You sit up, propping yourself on the pillows as he brings the tray to you. It's a delightful spread of fresh fruit, fluffy pancakes, scrambled eggs, and crispy bacon, accompanied by a steaming cup of coffee and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.

"Charles, this looks amazing!" you exclaim, touched by the effort he's put into making your morning special.

He sets the tray on your lap and leans in to kiss your forehead. "Only the best for you," he says, his eyes sparkling with love. "I wanted to start our anniversary weekend off right."

As you take a bite of the pancakes, savoring the sweet syrup, he sits on the edge of the bed, watching you with a look of adoration. "You have until tonight to pack your essentials," he says casually.

You pause, fork halfway to your mouth. "Pack my essentials? What do you mean?"

He grins, a mischievous glint in his eye. "I already had your BFF buy you stuff and pack everything you might need. Your job is just to relax and get ready."

You're shocked, a mixture of excitement and curiosity bubbling up inside you. "Where are we going?" you ask, your voice filled with anticipation.

You stare at him, speechless. "Wait. Charles! My hair, my nails... nothing is done. Are you serious?"

"It's a surprise," he says with a wink. "But don't worry about a thing. I've scheduled a whole day of pampering for you. Your hair, nails, everything—it's all taken care of."

He laughs, leaning in to kiss you softly. "That's what you're doing today. Just relax and enjoy yourself. I've got everything planned."

After breakfast, you get ready for your day of pampering. You’re still buzzing with excitement and curiosity about the surprise trip. Charles gives you one last kiss before you head out the door, his parting words making you smile. "Enjoy your day, baby. You deserve it."

Your first stop is a high-end salon downtown, where you're greeted by friendly staff who seem to know exactly who you are. "Welcome! We've been expecting you," the receptionist says with a warm smile.

You're ushered into a private room where your stylist awaits. She’s bubbly and professional, and she wastes no time in discussing what you’d like for your hair. After a brief consultation, you decide on a style that's elegant yet easy to manage, perfect for a surprise trip.

As she works, you relax, letting the tension melt away. The stylist is skilled, her hands working magic on your hair. She gives you a deep conditioning treatment, a trim, and styles your hair into soft, cascading waves that frame your face beautifully.

Next, you’re led to the nail section, where you choose a chic chrome white French tip with tiny jewels for a touch of glamour. The nail technician is meticulous, ensuring each nail is perfect. The process is soothing, and you find yourself chatting with her, the time passing quickly.

Once your nails are done, you move on to a luxurious facial. The esthetician is gentle, applying various creams and masks that rejuvenate your skin, leaving it glowing and refreshed. You close your eyes, letting the serene environment and soft music lull you into a state of complete relaxation.

By the time you’re finished, you feel like a new person. Your hair looks stunning, your nails are impeccable, and your skin feels silky smooth. As you step out of the salon, you can’t help but admire your reflection in the glass door. Charles is going to love this, you think to yourself with a smile.

.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .

Charles picks you up outside the salon, his eyes lighting up when he sees you. "Wow, you look incredible," he says, pulling you in for a kiss. "How was your day?"

"It was amazing," you reply, your heart swelling with gratitude. "Thank you so much for everything. But I'm still dying to know where we're going."

He laughs, a low, rumbling sound that makes your heart flutter. "All in good time, baby."

He drives you to the airport, the anticipation building with each passing mile. When you arrive, he parks and leads you inside, his hand warm and reassuring in yours. As you walk through the bustling terminal, you can’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nerves.

"Charles, seriously, where are we going?" you ask again, hoping he’ll give you a hint.

He just smiles, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "You'll see soon enough. Trust me."

You board a private plane, a luxury you hadn't expected. The interior is plush and comfortable, with soft leather seats and elegant décor. As you settle in, a stewardess offers you a drink, and you accept a glass of champagne, the bubbles tickling your nose as you take a sip.

Charles sits beside you, his hand resting on your thigh. "I arranged for dinner to be served once we're in the air," he says, his voice low and intimate. "I thought it would be nice to enjoy a meal together while we fly."

You look at him, your heart overflowing with love and gratitude. "You're so cute," you say, leaning in to kiss him. "I love you. I'm so excited but also a little nervous."

He smiles, his eyes filled with warmth. "I love you too. And there's no need to be nervous. Everything is going to be perfect."

The plane takes off smoothly, and soon you’re soaring above the clouds. The stewardess brings out dinner—a beautifully arranged spread of gourmet dishes. There's a succulent filet mignon, a delicate salmon fillet, roasted vegetables, and a variety of decadent desserts.

As you dine, you and Charles talk about everything and nothing, the conversation flowing easily between you. The food is delicious, each bite a new sensation of flavor and texture. You feel completely spoiled, each moment more perfect than the last.

"You're really pulling out all the stops," you say, taking a sip of your champagne. "This is like a dream."

He reaches across the table, taking your hand in his. "You deserve nothing but the best," he says softly. "I wanted to make this anniversary unforgettable."

You smile, squeezing his hand. "It already is. But I can't help but wonder—where are we going?"

He chuckles, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your hand. "Patience, baby. You'll know soon enough."

After dinner, you both recline your seats, the plane dimming its lights for the evening. You snuggle close to Charles, his arm wrapped around you as you gaze out at the stars twinkling outside the window.

"I can't wait to see what you have planned," you whisper, your voice filled with excitement.

He kisses your forehead, his lips soft and warm against your skin. "It's going to be amazing," he promises. "I can't wait to share it with you."

As the plane continues its journey, you close your eyes, feeling completely content. The anticipation of the surprise destination fills you with a sense of adventure and wonder. With Charles by your side, you know that whatever awaits you will be perfect.

Several hours later, the plane begins its descent. You wake up, feeling refreshed and curious about where you are. Charles looks at you, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

"We're almost there," he says, his voice filled with anticipation.

You look out the window, trying to catch a glimpse of your destination. The landscape below is beautiful, lush and green with hints of water sparkling in the distance. As the plane touches down, you feel a rush of excitement.

Once you’ve landed, Charles helps you gather your things, and you step off the plane into the warm, balmy air. The scenery is breathtaking—palm trees swaying gently in the breeze, the ocean stretching out to the horizon, and the sky painted with the colors of the setting sun.

“Charles, this is incredible,” you say, your eyes wide with wonder. “Where are we?”

He takes your hand, leading you towards a waiting car. “Welcome to Thailand,” he says with a grin. “Our home for the next week.”

You gasp, your heart racing with excitement. “Thailand? Are you serious?”

He nods, his eyes sparkling with delight. “I thought it would be the perfect place to celebrate our anniversary.”

You throw your arms around him, hugging him tightly. “Thank you, Charles. This is the best surprise ever.”

He kisses you, his lips warm and loving against yours. “Anything for you, baby. Now, let’s get settled in. We have an amazing week ahead of us.”

As you drive towards your hotel, the excitement and anticipation build within you. You can’t wait to see what other surprises Charles has in store. With him by your side, you know this trip will be nothing short of magical.

.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .

As you make your way to the candle-lit dinner he meticulously planned, the soft glow of lanterns and the soothing sound of the waves set the perfect ambiance. The setting is picturesque—a secluded beach with a table adorned with flowers, candles flickering gently in the evening breeze, and the scent of the ocean filling the air.

Charles, ever the gentleman, pulls out your chair, his eyes never leaving yours. He looks dashing in a crisp white shirt that contrasts beautifully with his tanned skin, his hair slightly tousled by the wind. You can’t help but smile at the thoughtfulness he’s put into this evening.

As you sit down, a waiter appears with a bottle of your favorite wine. Charles pours it for you, the liquid shimmering in the candlelight. You clink glasses, and he raises his, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“To us,” he says, his voice deep and sincere. “To three amazing years and many more to come.”

You smile, feeling a rush of warmth and affection. “To us,” you echo, taking a sip of the wine.

The first course arrives—a delicate seafood platter with fresh oysters, shrimp, and lobster, all beautifully presented. You savor each bite, the flavors bursting on your tongue. Charles watches you, his eyes dark with a mix of love and desire.

“This is amazing,” you say, your voice filled with genuine appreciation. “You really outdid yourself.”

He reaches across the table, taking your hand in his. “Only the best for you,” he replies, his thumb gently caressing your skin.

The conversation flows effortlessly as you enjoy the meal. You talk about your favorite memories from the past three years, laughing and reminiscing about the adventures you’ve shared. Charles is attentive, hanging on your every word, his gaze never wavering from your face.

The main course is a sumptuous Thai curry, rich and aromatic, with just the right amount of spice. You both savor the complex flavors, occasionally feeding each other bites. The intimacy of the moment is palpable, the connection between you deepening with each shared taste.

As the meal draws to a close, the waiter brings out a decadent dessert—mango sticky rice, perfectly sweet and fragrant. Charles takes a bite, then leans over to kiss you, his lips tasting of mango and coconut.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice husky.

“I love you too,” you whisper back, your heart swelling with emotion.

.•☆.°.•.*₊ ♪ ♫ .• ☆.°.• .

After dinner, you and Charles walk back to your hotel, hand in hand. The night is warm, the air filled with the scent of jasmine and the distant sound of music from a nearby festival. When you reach your room, he opens the door with a flourish, revealing a scene straight out of a fairy tale. The room is dimly lit, with rose petals scattered across the bed and soft music playing in the background.

Charles pulls you close, his hands resting on your hips. “I have one more surprise for you,” he says, his breath warm against your ear.

You raise an eyebrow, curious and excited. “Oh? And what might that be?”

He smiles, a slow, sensual smile that sends shivers down your spine. “Why don’t you sit down and find out?”

You sit on the edge of the bed, watching as he moves to the small table in the corner. He lights a few more candles, their soft glow adding to the romantic atmosphere. Then he turns back to you, his eyes dark and smoldering.

He walks over to you, his movements graceful and deliberate. When he reaches you, he kneels down, his hands sliding up your legs to rest on your thighs. “You look beautiful tonight,” he says, his voice low and filled with desire.

Your breath catches in your throat as he leans in, his lips brushing against your skin. He starts at your ankle, kissing his way up your leg, his touch sending sparks of electricity through your body. By the time he reaches your inner thigh, you’re already aching with need.

“Charles,” you whisper, your voice trembling with anticipation.

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with love and lust. “Just relax,” he murmurs. “Let me take care of you.”

You lean back, propping yourself up on your elbows as he continues his slow, sensual exploration. His hands are gentle but firm as they slide up your dress, pushing the fabric aside to reveal your bare skin. When his lips finally reach your core, you can’t help but moan, the sound echoing in the quiet room.

He takes his time, his tongue teasing and tasting you with a skill that leaves you breathless. Each flick and swirl sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, building higher and higher until you’re on the edge of ecstasy. You grip the sheets, your knuckles white as you hold on, the sensations overwhelming.

“Charles, I’m so close,” you gasp, your body trembling with need.

He looks up at you, his eyes dark and intense. “Come for me,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. “I want to feel you come.”

His words send you over the edge, your body arching as the orgasm crashes over you. You cry out his name, your vision going white with pleasure. Charles doesn’t stop, his tongue still moving against you, prolonging your release until you’re shaking with aftershocks.

When you finally come down, he looks up at you, his lips glistening. “You taste amazing,” he says, his voice husky.

You pull him up to you, kissing him deeply, tasting yourself on his lips. “Your turn,” you whisper, a wicked smile playing on your lips.

You push Charles onto his back, your hands moving to unbutton his shirt. He watches you, his eyes filled with anticipation and desire. When you finally have his shirt off, you trail kisses down his chest, your tongue flicking out to taste his skin. He groans, his hands tangling in your hair as you make your way lower.

When you reach the waistband of his pants, you look up at him, your eyes dark with desire. “I want to make you feel as good as you made me feel,” you say, your voice low and sultry.

He swallows hard, his eyes never leaving yours. “You always do,” he replies, his voice rough with need.

You smile, your fingers deftly undoing his belt and sliding his pants down. When he’s finally bare before you, you take a moment to admire him, your eyes drinking in every inch of his body.

Then you lean down, your lips wrapping around him, your tongue teasing the sensitive head. He groans, his hips bucking as you take him deeper, your mouth moving up and down his length with practiced ease. You can feel him trembling beneath you, his hands gripping the sheets as he tries to hold on.

“God, you’re so good at that,” he gasps, his voice strained.

You hum in response, the vibration sending shivers through his body. You take him deeper, your hand moving to stroke the base as your mouth works its magic. He’s close, you can feel it, his body tensing as he nears the edge.

Just as he’s about to come, you pull back, a wicked smile on your lips. He looks at you, his eyes filled with desperation and desire. “Please,” he begs, his voice rough. “I need you.”

You climb onto the bed, straddling his hips as you align yourself with him. “Not yet,” you murmur, your voice low and teasing. “I want to ride you first.”

You sink down onto him, both of you gasping at the sensation. You start to move, your hips rocking back and forth as you take him deep inside you. The pleasure is intense, each thrust sending waves of ecstasy through your body. Charles watches you, his eyes dark with desire, his hands gripping your hips as you ride him.

“You look so hot,” he groans, his voice filled with awe. “God, I love watching you like this.”

You smile, your movements quickening as you feel the pleasure building. “I love it too,” you gasp, your body trembling with need.

Just as you’re about to come, Charles flips you over, pinning you beneath him. He thrusts into you hard and fast, his hands gripping your thighs as he drives you both towards release. The pleasure is overwhelming, each thrust sending you higher and higher until you’re on the edge of ecstasy.

“You want me to get you pregnant?” he growls, his voice rough with desire.

“Yes,” you moan, your body arching beneath him. “Yes, Charles, I want it so much.”

He thrusts into you one final time, both of you crying out as you come together. The sensation is intense, your body shaking with the force of your release. When it finally subsides, you collapse against the bed, your body spent and satisfied.

Charles pulls out of you gently, his movements careful and tender. He reaches for a warm rag, cleaning you up with a soft touch. “You were amazing,” he murmurs, his voice filled with love and admiration.

You smile, your heart swelling with affection. “So were you,” you reply, your voice soft.

He finishes cleaning you up, then scoops you into his arms, carrying you to the bathroom. When you see the rose petals and warm water waiting, you can’t help but smile. “You really thought of everything,” you say, your voice filled with wonder.

Charles sets you down gently into the bath, the warm water enveloping your tired muscles and soothing your skin. The scent of the rose petals fills the air, adding to the romantic atmosphere. He slips in behind you, pulling you close so your back rests against his chest. His arms wrap around you, holding you securely.

You both sigh in contentment, the warm water and intimate setting creating a perfect moment of peace and relaxation. Charles nuzzles your neck, placing soft kisses along your shoulder.

“This was perfect,” you murmur, leaning back into him.

He tightens his hold on you slightly, his lips brushing your ear. “I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he whispers. “I wanted tonight to be special for you.”

You turn your head slightly, meeting his gaze. “It was more than special. It was unforgettable.”

He smiles, his eyes filled with love. “I love you,” he says softly.

“I love you too,” you reply, your heart swelling with emotion.

You rest in the bath together, enjoying the quiet intimacy of the moment. Charles’s hands gently caress your skin, his touch soothing and comforting. You close your eyes, letting yourself relax completely in his embrace.

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[mokku-latte]

A Slice of Cake

Jinx x fem! Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

There was a sudden tranquility coursing through you when you visited Jinx, her rampage has left an impression on you that can no longer be ignored. Unfortunately, life in Piltover wasn't exactly what you pictured, and you decided it was time for a change of scenery. But why did it leave a gnawing in Jinx's stomach when you came back to her with a 'clearer' head than ever.

You'd fix it. Maybe with a slice or two. After all, you promised.

Trigger warning: Suicidal Thoughts, Implied Suicide, Hurt/No Comfort

Author’s Note: First time posting on here, or posting a fic really. Sorry in advance for any errors!

You can also read it on AO3!!

___

"Stupid. Dumb. Machine-!" She pushed the makeshift bomb away as it clicked from her error. It rolled off the ledge falling past the depths of the abandoned fissure before exploding in purples and blues. Jinx slumped back in her chair, grunting and clutching her braids. She breathed heavily through the strands of hair. Nothing was working, nothing was cooperating. Her voice came out mocking, child-like even.

"What? No witty, come back Mylo? Claggor?" Jinx grumbled, rolling her eyes. They've been quiet. Too quiet after his death. It made her uneasy. She got up, grabbing pow-pow off to the side.

"Then again you two usually shut up, in courtesy of my guests, ain't that right, toots?" Jinx's voice was like venom when she heard footsteps echo throughout her hideout. The barrel of her minigun slowly came to life rotating as you stepped through the foyer.

You.

Age as always, was a bitch. It changes you, making strangers out of those faces you long forgotten. You were you, no mistaking that. The way you carried, yourself, your mannerisms, your walk. You stop just a few feet of her, mouth opening to talk. The memories battered and slammed against Jinx's head, her eyes twitching in hurt and anger. It all proves too much for her when she presses down on the trigger, not even giving you a chance as the smoke of her bullets caught her vision masking you in its entirety.

Jinx keeled over, chest heaving. She wouldn't cry, she wouldn't give you the satisfaction, not when you left her, not when you stayed away, and surely when she got to see your face after so long. Her eyes looked up once the smoke cleared. A snarl coming from her lips.

"You don't just get to walk in here, y'know? Already heard of your little escapade at firelight's base. M' sure catching up with boy savior was just peachy," You stood there, eyes looking down at the bullet holes that stopped just at your feet and trailing up the wall beside you. Her sudden outburst had you turning back to her.

"News flash toots! You were the one who promised 'I'll never stray from you Powder!' and- and- 'Let's build a better life in Zaun' HAH-" Jinx prattled with a mocking tone, walking around in a circle.

"Ya' sure did get that better life, huh? What's it like up there in the fresh air and prissy prim buildings, Piltie?" She sneered at you, gun teasing your abdomen. Betcha' wondered if she'd miss this time?

You expected this. How could you not? Vi told you, Ekko told you, yet none of it seemed to matter. Powder- No Jinx. A wanted criminal. A danger to those around her, to those who like to get in close, people like you. Her damage was irreparable, the fruits of her labor were clear. The bombing of all those enforcers, the council chair incident, the sudden death of a Chembaron NO one seemed to know the cause of death of? It screamed her name. To say it lightly, things were not okay. It was impressive, really.

"...You looked like you've seen better days," Was all you said, eyes taking in her face, her blue bell braids, her attire, her... pink eyes. You could see the dark color of her veins, poke prominently on the skin of her face. An effect of shimmer, no doubt. Nonetheless, you would fix it.

Jinx faltered when You held up a box in front of her.

"S' not much. I don't expect you to forgive me, but Vi said I should bring something," You opened it to reveal a small little cake. You two once stole some during your little Piltover raids as kids, sweet vanilla. Plain and simple. Yet she wouldn't have it any other way.

The cake. That simple, small cake sitting in the box. It's so familiar, so…you. It's the cake you used to steal from that little bakery in Piltover, the one with the old man who always chased them out, yelling about thieving Zaunites. You'd both run and laugh and stuff your faces with those sweet, simple cakes until the both of you were sick. It was a different life, a different world. Before everything went wrong. Before she went wrong.

But the cake...it's a line in the sand. A gesture of peace in a world that's nothing but war you weren't sure you'd come back from. She knows she should be suspicious. She knows she should be angry. But all she can feel is a strange, aching emptiness. A void that used to be filled with laughter and stolen moments and the comforting presence of a friend who understood her in a way no one else ever did.

She takes a shaky breath, and her grip on pow-pow loosens just a little. She doesn't lower the weapon, but she doesn't point it at you anymore, either. She's not sure what to do with her hands, so she lets them weapon dangle awkwardly at her sides.

"You...you brought me cake," she says slowly, her voice small and hoarse. It's not a question, but it's not quite a statement either. She's trying to process, to make sense of something kind in a world that's only ever been cruel. Jinx let out quick breathes. Mistrust and wavering vulnerability clear behind them as she looked at you. You didn't look afraid as much as people should be in this situation, but no... It's not like you were afraid, just tired.

"You knew," she whispers, her voice trembling. "You knew what you were getting into. You knew...what I've become."

She takes a step forward, her movements jerky and unpredictable. She's like a cornered animal, ready to strike or flee at any moment. Her free hand curls into a tight fist at her side, her nails digging into her palm hard enough to draw blood.

"So why? Why come back? Why now?" Her voice rises, edged with a frantic desperation. "Is this some kind of joke? Some twisted game? Are you here to gloat? To see how far I've fallen?"

You blinked at her slowly, before sighing. Jinx stammered when you pushed pass her, sitting the box atop the workbench. Jinx's eyes widen as You turn your back on her, as if she's not holding a weapon that could blow you both to smithereens. As if she's not a ticking time bomb, ready to explode at any moment.

"I'm...simply here to right a wrong," You murmured, taking one of the tools Jinx had, blowing on it, and rubbing at it with your sleeve. It'll have to do. She watches, dumbfounded while you casually took one of her tools and started cutting into the cake.

"Right a wrong," she repeats, her voice hollow. "Is that what you call it?"

Her laugh is brittle, devoid of any real humor. "And what exactly is the wrong you're trying to right, huh? Leaving me? Abandoning me like everyone else?"

She takes a step closer, her movements slow and deliberate. "Or maybe...maybe you're here to fix me." Her voice drips with sarcasm, but there's a hint of something else beneath it. Hope, maybe. Or fear.

"Is that it? Cut a cake, POOF- and everything will be like it used to be? Like I'm still her?"

"Fix you?" Your head raised making her freeze up. You weren't looking at her, your voice pondering as you tilted your head. Jinx could almost smell the familiar scent of lavender, that natural scent you always had on her. You once fell into a tub of suds, when you all cut through this one Pilties house to escape enforcers. The smell stuck with you ever since, weirdly enough. You liked it, one of the few things you could control about yourself.

"I think that time has long passed, damage is damage really..." The tool went back to cutting.

"Me being here is just a means to an end, a talk that was loooonnng overdue," you said, sticking out your tongue while you concentrated, lifting a piece of cake and resting it on a space of its unfurled cardboard.

"That's all this is to you? Just a little chat?"

She gestures wildly with pow-pow, the weapon wavering in the air between them. "Well, let me tell you something. We've got nothing to talk about. Nothing!" Jinx marched around. She wanted to make her intentions clear.

"Coming here, acting like nothing happened, like I didn't sit here for years waiting for you, hoping you'd come back. Hoping you'd be different. Hoping you wouldn't leave me like everyone else."

She's yelling now, her words slurring together as they tumble out in a torrent of emotion. "But you did. You left me. And now you're here, cutting a fucking cake like it's all going to be okay. Like I'm not a monster. Like I'm not..."

She trails off, her voice suddenly small and broken. "Like I'm not alone."

She falls silent, her chest heaving with the effort of her outburst. She's shaking, her hands trembling around the grip of pow-pow. And for a moment, just a moment, she looks like the little girl she used to be. Lost, scared, and desperately clinging to the hope that someone, anyone, might stay.

You sucked on your thumb, licking the frosting off. Turning, you sat atop the work bench, waving the tool lazily.

"Jinx," You tested the tongue on her name and she only scoffed. No longer Powder. Powder apparently fell down a well.

"Would Silco have taken me in, too? When I was bleeding out on the floor, watching with hazy eyes as you ran into his arms after Vi left the scene of the explosion," Jinx shuddered at your question, eye jumping slightly at the thought.

"I mean...I knew he tried to kill us all as kids at first because we were witnesses and all that with Vander being our guardian, but he took you. Grew close to you, from what I was told," You said softly, hands moving the tool like an airplane.

"I don't resent you anymore for putting your trust in him. I used to be angry about it. For siding with the man who killed Vander, but I'm tired of being so...reactive," Your head hung lazily.

"Silco..." Jinx starts, her voice rough and unsteady. "He...he saved me. When Vi left, when everyone left...he was the only one who didn't abandon me."

She looks away, her gaze distant and haunted. "He took me in, gave me a place to belong. A purpose. He...he became my family."

But even as she says the words, there's a brittleness to them. A fragile, desperate edge that betrays the insecurity beneath the bravado.

"And yeah, maybe he...maybe he did some bad things. Maybe he hurt people. But he never hurt me. He never left me."

"And I ask again..." You finally looked her.

"Would he have taken me too?" Would you have ever had a chance? Being here with Jinx instead of becoming a rescue in Piltover. Had he noticed the other girl bleeding out from the rubble, would he have been as merciful? Silco was unpredictable, who knows?

Jinx's shoulders tense at your question, her fingers tightening around pow-pow until her knuckles turn white. She doesn't want to answer. She doesn't want to think about it. But the words force their way out, trembling and raw.

"I...I don't know," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her own heart. "I don't know if he would have...if he would have taken you too."

She swallows hard, her throat constricting painfully. "He...he might have. He might have taken you in, given you a new life. A chance to be a part of something bigger, something more than...than what Piltover offered."

A Lie.

That's what that was. There was an opportunity to shape and to mold. And that man took it when he had her. His ambition got him killed, his love for her, the parallels between him and Vi were too great. His indulgence in the transition between Powder and Jinx was an oddity, something that left behind confusion, and more pain than good. And you saw it all, the anguish it caused, the addicts on the streets of Zaun, the people it affected.

"But it's too late now, isn't it? It's too late to go back. Too late to change what's already been done."

Jinx turns away, her shoulders slumped in defeat. "So what's the point of talking about it? What's the point of anything?"

She laughs then, a harsh, bitter sound that echoes in the stillness of the workshop. "Maybe I'm just a monster after all. Maybe I deserve to be alone. Maybe..." You looked at her, sucking in your bottom lip.

"Come have a slice of cake," You said gently, gesturing her over with the flick of the tool.

Jinx stares at you, her expression unreadable. The pain and anger and confusion swirling inside her like a hurricane, threatening to tear her apart. But beneath it all, there's a small, fragile spark of hope. A desperate, yearning desire to believe that maybe, just maybe, you really were here. That this was real. That maybe this isn't some cruel trick or twisted game her mind conjured.

She takes a hesitant step forward, her movements slow and uncertain. "I...I don't know if I should," she whispers, her voice barely audible. "I don't know if I can trust this. If I can trust you."

But even as she says the words, she finds herself taking another step, and then another. Until she's standing in front of you, so close she can see the flecks of gold in her friend's skins. The history of Piltover, and its effects of it on you, how much you changed. So close she can smell the familiar scent of lavender once more, a reminder of happier times.

"Why?" she asks, her voice raw and broken. "Why are you really here?"

"...I was friends with Powder. It's a check-up of sorts and it's a first finally seeing 'Jinx', you know?" You only tilted her head at her. Jinx watched as You cut her a slice, dropping the piece next to your half-eaten slice.

"I guess, I'm still figuring out first impressions," You added.

She looks up at you, her eyes searching her friend's face for any sign of deceit. But there's nothing there. Just the same warm, familiar eyes she remembers from their childhood. The same gentle smile that always seemed to understand her, even when she couldn't understand herself.

Slowly, hesitantly, she reaches out and picks up the slice of cake. She brings it to her mouth, taking a tentative bite. The sweetness explodes on her tongue, and for a moment, she's transported back to those simpler times. Back to the days when they would raid the Piltie houses together, stuffing their faces with stolen treats and laughing until their sides ached.

She swallows hard, blinking back the sudden tears that threaten to spill down her cheeks. "It's good," she mumbles, her voice rough and unsteady. "Really good."

"Glad, you like it," You spoke softly, taking out a small cannister, playing with the top. A moment of silence went over them, reveling in the cake and the tranquility of it all. But even times like these have an abrupt stop.

Jinx takes another bite, savoring the flavor, letting it fill the empty spaces inside her. For a moment, she allows herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, things can be different. That maybe you really do still care, that you haven't come here just to rub salt in old wounds.

But then the moment passes, and the doubts come rushing back. The memories of all the pain and betrayal, all the times she was left alone and forgotten. She puts the cake down, her appetite suddenly gone.

"So what now?" she asks, her voice flat and tired. "What happens after the cake? Do we go back to the way things were, with you in Piltover and me here in the lanes? Or do we try to start over, pretend like nothing ever happened?"

She looks at you, her eyes hard and challenging. "Because I don't know if I can do that. I don't know if I can just...forget. Forget everything that's happened, everything I've done. Everything."

"Me, going back to Piltover?" You snorted, a small smile making it to her face. Your eyes looked forward, looking around Jinx's hideout.

"No, no...I have other plans," You crossed your legs, picking off a piece of her cake and pressing it into your mouth, finishing the rest for her.

Jinx's eyes narrow at your words, a flicker of suspicion crossing her face. Other plans? What could that possibly mean? She looks around her hideout, suddenly seeing it through your eyes. The mess of weapons and wires, the stacks of crates and barrels, the general air of chaos and destruction. It's not exactly the kind of place you have a friend over for a casual visit.

"What kind of plans?" she asks, her voice guarded and wary. "You're not...you're not here to take me back to Piltover, are you? To turn me in to the enforcers?"

"I wouldn't hold a cake to you even if I tried," You said a pun, licking icing off your lips, holding up your arms and flexing. Nothing. Piltover really had softened you up. You and 'Powder' were the weakest of the bunch when they were little in comparison to Vi, Claggor, and Mylo.

"You know when I entered Zaun again after all these years, a guy held a knife to my throat. I almost forgot how easy it is to just get robbed in this place. Can't say I missed it," You sighed.

"Nonetheless, the guy was confused when I gave him everything, I just asked him to spare the cake at least, figured everything I gave him was more than enough,"

Jinx looks you up and down, taking in the plain, utilitarian outfit. The lack of anything valuable or flashy. And suddenly, the pieces start to fall into place.

"You...you came here with nothing," she says slowly, realization dawning in her eyes. "You came here with no weapons, no money, no way to protect yourself. You're completely defenseless."

She shakes her head, a mix of incredulity and frustration crossing her face. "What were you thinking, toots? Coming back to Zaun like this, after all this time? Don't you know how dangerous it is? Don't you know what happens to people who walk around without protection?"

She takes a step closer, her gaze intense and searching. "Is this some kind of joke to you? Some kind of game? Because if it is, it's not funny. It's not funny at all."

Her voice rises, edged with a note of desperation. "You could have been killed. You could have been hurt, or worse. And for what? To come see me? To bring me a stupid cake?"

"Please...Tell me. Tell me why you're here. Tell me what you want from me."

You looked at her. Powder. Funny, she must've been clawing her way up that well for years. Right...you came here with nothing. Sitting all carelessly, eating cake and minding yourself as though you weren't just robbed or- Jinx paused, her hands freezing in place from her little rant as she slowly looked at You. Your face seemed content.

It was eerie.

"I don't need anything," You smiled, patting your hands clean.

"I'm just finally giving myself the time to actually hash things out, with Vi, Ekko, and now-"

"Me," Jinx finished.

It was a list. A bucket list.

Jinx swallowed, head slowly shaking. She's seen this before. Felt this before. No person just wakes up suddenly deciding to go around, catching up, talking, giving away their possessions. You were talking but your voice was muffled out.

"Stop," she whispers, her voice hoarse and trembling. "Please, just stop."

You quieted. The tool in your hand suddenly felt more heavier when Jinx gave you that painful stare.

"Jinx?" You tilted your head at her.

"You...you're not here to say hello, are you?" she asks, her voice barely audible. She huffed, with a broken chuckle.

You falter when Jinx approached you, a small smile etched on your face but it seemed anything but happy.

"Was it that obvious?" You said lightheartedly. You yelped when Jinx slammed her hands against the table on either side of you, wedging herself between your legs. The cake battered tool felt to the ground with a echoing thud. Your breathing quickened seeing Jinx hover over you, not touching you just...hovering. Her head was held low, face just shy of your chest.

"...I'm sorry," Was all you could muster, not making any sudden moves. Your eyes looked anywhere else. It was uncomforting. You felt as though one glance at Jinx would make this plan all go crumbling down.

Jinx's breath is hot and ragged against your chest, her body trembling with a mix of rage and desperation. She can feel your heartbeat beneath her palms, the steady rhythm a stark contrast to the chaos raging inside her own.

"Don't," she whispers, her voice a hoarse, pleading rasp. "Don't you dare apologize. Not now. Not like this."

Jinx felt like she was being punched senseless. How could you come in here, wedge her way back in without even trying, AND offer her a damn slice of cake with a smile as if you were going to disappear without a trace after?

How cruel.

It' was heartless and it makes her want to scream, to lash out, to do anything to make the pain stop.

But she doesn't. Instead, she just stands there, frozen in place, her body shaking with the force of her emotions. She wants to say something, to beg you to stay, to promise her that everything will be okay. But the words won't come. They stick in her throat, thick and heavy and impossible to swallow.

So, she just stares at you, her eyes wide and haunted, her face a mask of despair. She watches as her friend's smile fades, replaced by a look of quiet resignation. And she knows, with a sickening certainty, that this would be messy.

"Please," she whispers, her voice a hoarse, broken plea not exactly sure what she was even pleading for.

You lean back on your arms, sucking in a breath. Your legs slowly wrap their way around Jinx's waist as though to give her something that told her you were grounded, that you were still interested in sharing words.

"Sometimes I think of how easy it would've been if I bled out after that explosion. Then, I wouldn't be feeling such bothersome things," You smiled.

"Being rescued and spending my life in Piltover, it was like a slap in the face. My brain simply thinking about how all it took was a near death experience to make a change happen, I spent my entire life drowning in this fact. Wondering why it took seeing a child on their death bed, for anyone from topside to finally act. Would it not just be better if all of Zaun dropped dead then?" You popped open the cannister in your hand, taking a long swig of the contents.

She looks at you, her brow furrowed in confusion and concern.

"What are you saying?" she asks, her voice trembling slightly. "What does this have to do with me? With us?"

You grabbed her face gently, wiping at Jinx's watery eyes and pressing your forehead against hers. Such pretty eyes, even with their blue gone. Her presence never faded.

A shame really, but a change of plans was called for. You wouldn't have it any. Other. Way.

Jinx sputtered when you nuzzled into her; gasping before you pressed your lips against hers. Jinx blinked back tears feeling a liquid slip past her lips, swallowing unconsciously. You...You really were something. Jinx coughed, catching her breath when you pulled away. Her eyes only held confusion, eyes darting between the cake, you, the canister-

The canister.

Jinx let out a whimper going to snatch it up. Empty.

You looked at her, a soft sigh leaving your lips at her defeated expression.

"I like you, a lot. Pow-...Jinx, I wasn't sure if any of that would change seeing you now but..." You had a smile on your face.

"Cake never tasted the same after separating from you, from everyone, from Zaun. I grew sick of it. But I can stomach cake for you though, anything for you," She slowly shook her head at you, voice catching in her throat.

"Piltover life may have not suited me. I don't think Zaun can either after I went over so many possibilities when I made this decision. Vi, Ekko, You. Should I stay? Should I go far away?" Jinx shuddered when you hugged her, body slumping against hers. So warm, you missed this, more than ever as you happily spoke.

"My mind has never been so clear," Tears rolled down Jinx's face at your words, arms holding you tightly.

You weren't moving anymore.

A scenario in which you plan a double suicide, to rid Zaun and Piltover of the incidents caused by Jinx and relinquish yourself of the trauma you've endured. It ultimately backfires when you notice that girl you love still has a chance.

[ginnsbaker]

All Of Your Pieces (3 - The Neighbor)

Chapter Summary: Agnes sees the perfect opportunity to stir up some trouble while Wanda deals with her jealousy toward your work assistant, Geraldine. Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female Reader Chapter word count: 2.8k+ | Chapter Tags/Warnings: None

A/N: I really have nothing to say except that I enjoyed writing Agatha in this chapter // More author's notes here.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The team has been at a standstill, figuring out who’s behind this, or how to communicate with anyone trapped inside the town. Every drone they've sent in morphs into something entirely different, thwarting their efforts to gather any useful intel. The people sent underground to scout a safe route through have gone dark, their communication cut off. No one else volunteered to attempt approaching the perimeter after that.

The broadcasts they've been tracking are erratic, cutting out for hours with no warning, making it hard to keep a consistent eye on the town's odd behaviors. But it's during one of these quiet periods when something clicks in Darcy's mind.

“I think I have something,” Darcy blurts out to Jimmy. They’ve been scraping the bottom of the barrel, running out of faces to identify from the snippets of life in Westview they caught on screen. 

“Yeah?” Jimmy gives her a tired look, only half-listening. He can't remember the last time he managed more than an hour of uninterrupted sleep. Even if he could find the time to rest, the bizarre situation they're in won't let his mind relax. 

Darcy sighs and leads him outside the tent.

“So, you’ve seen that radio on Wanda’s kitchen counter, right?”

Jimmy only nods.

Darcy continues, “The next time she’s washing dishes, or whatever—which by my count—happens about once an episode, barf, we’ll shoot a signal to that little guy.” She leads him to a set of computers set up behind a pickup truck. Jimmy doesn’t understand what’s going on with these systems, but he’s hoping Darcy really is onto something.

“This transmitter will mimic the frequency of the broadcast,” she pauses to catch her breath in the cold and to give him time to catch up with her science. “And if my theory is right, it will allow us to speak to her.”

She cuts off any chance for Jimmy to comment and assures him, “This is definitely going to work.”

–

The annual Westview Harvest Festival is in full swing. The town square is packed with booths overflowing with baked goods and fresh fall produce. A small stage is set up for the local band playing tunes from the 70s, while kids dart around in all directions, their faces painted with fanciful designs. Billy and Tommy are with their preschool teachers, who are keeping them and other children their age occupied with arts and crafts that involve tumbleweeds—a material no one seems to think is entirely safe for five-year-olds to play with.

In hindsight, it’s the ideal setting for introductions and mingling. However, everyone here already knows each other—everyone, that is, except for Wanda. She makes an effort to blend in, but apart from a few interactions with the planning committee, which weren’t particularly fruitful, she often remains secluded at home. This makes you, the only one in the household who heads out daily for work, the more socially connected of the two. It’s both amusing and slightly anxiety-inducing to watch you interact with the townsfolk who are essentially strangers to you and to Wanda, if only you knew. You and Wanda never had the opportunity to live a normal life, to settle in a typical city, surrounded by neighbors who could have become integral to the life you might have built together. 

Seeing you interact with these people, she’s realizing it’s harder than she thought to share you with others. Or maybe she’s just as selfish as she’s always been, never really outgrowing it. When you were both part of the Avengers, it was like living in a bubble, surrounded by only a few familiar faces every day. Now, outside that controlled environment, it’s challenging her expectations and stirring up feelings she thought she had under control.

It becomes particularly tough when she sees Geraldine heading towards you, sporting that perpetual, dazzling smile full of perfect white teeth. Wanda's fingers curl into a fist, tiny wisps of red energy leaking from them. You quickly cover her hand with yours, and the effect is immediate—she relaxes slightly, letting you intertwine your fingers with hers, anchoring herself by your side where she feels secure.

“It's so nice to see you outside of the office, just being one of us for a change,” Geraldine says, though she seems to be wearing the same uniform as at work. Not that you're judging, but it does make you wonder why she hasn't changed.

“Definitely beats being stuck behind a desk,” you reply, your attention briefly wandering. Only then do you notice that Wanda has subtly withdrawn her hand from yours, now exploring a booth with homemade apple cider. You hadn't even noticed the exact moment she let go.

“Hello, Wanda!” Geraldine greets her warmly. 

Wanda musters a tight-lipped smile that’s convincing enough, as Geraldine appears quite taken with it. Just then, Geraldine spots Agnes standing a little away from the crowd, lingering behind Wanda with a look that borders on suspicion or disdain. 

Geraldine steps up to her while Wanda continues to busy herself with whatever else is being showcased in the booth. “Hi, I'm Geraldine. Isn’t this a wonderful evening?” She extends her hand to Agnes.

Agnes eyes the offered hand but doesn’t accept it. Instead, she sizes up Geraldine with a quick once-over and nods, foregoing any introductions. Geraldine's smile falters briefly, but she quickly shakes off the slight, tossing a brisk, “See you around, Y/N!” over her shoulder as she heads back to her table.

You wave back and let out a sigh, relieved that you’ve just sidestepped what could have been the most awkward moment of your life. Wanda’s jealousy towards Geraldine seems more serious than you’d realized. You know Wanda can be possessive; it's just been a long time since it's manifested this way. But then, it's also been a while since you've both been in a crowd of strangers like this. Since…

Since when, exactly?

“Y/N, honey?” Wanda’s voice snaps you out of your fog.

You blink. “Hm?”

“I’m thirsty.”

Just like that, you’ve forgotten about your lapse of memory, replaced by a desire to tend to your wife's needs.

“I’ll get us some refreshments. What would you like?” you ask.

“Just some water, please.”

“Water here, too,” Agnes calls out, unsolicited. 

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes. It's great that Wanda's making friends in the neighborhood, but did it really have to be Agnes O’Connor? Ever since you and Wanda moved into this quiet suburb, Agnes has made it her personal mission to be involved in every aspect of your lives. You can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to it than the apparent nosiness of your neighbor.

As you head over to get the drinks, Agnes sidles up to Wanda, her eyes gleaming with an opportunity to stir some pot. 

“Geraldine seems quite taken with your wife.”

It’s not like Wanda doesn’t know what Agnes’s doing, but she finds herself nodding in agreement anyway. Your new assistant does appear smitten with you, and while Wanda gets the appeal—you are, undeniably, crush-worthy—she can't say she's thrilled about it.

“Y/N is her boss,” Wanda murmurs, more to herself than to Agnes.

“Oh, honey,” Agnes laughs condescendingly. “Do you even go to the movies? That's how the steamiest affairs start, you know.”

Wanda bristles at the sound of that endearment from someone other than you. But she keeps herself together—barely. 

“I trust her,” Wanda forces out.

As you're getting drinks, Geraldine joins you, picking up a soda herself. She lets out a light laugh at a joke from the bartender, and you find yourself chuckling too, oblivious to the piercing look your wife is drilling into your back.

Meanwhile, Agnes sees her opening and swoops in, linking her arm through Wanda's with a bit more force than necessary. 

“Of course, you trust her, dear,” she murmurs right by Wanda's ear. “But do you trust her?” She points subtly with her chin towards Geraldine, her lips pursed. “You know what they say, keep your friends close, and your enemies closer…”

Wanda's shoulders tense, her entire frame stiffening. As you return with the drinks, Agnes steps away, leaving Wanda visibly shaken, like she’s teetering on the edge of a panic attack.

“Everything okay?” you ask, handing her a drink. You've noticed before how Wanda's demeanor changes around Agnes; she’s clearly a source of stress for her. It’s going to be a difficult conversation, but it might be time to tell Wanda what you really think about the neighbor.

Wanda takes the water you offer, her fingers trembling slightly as she does. For a moment, she appears distant, disengaged, as if her mind is elsewhere. Then, with a sudden shift, she flashes you one of those smiles that sends a shiver down your spine.

“I'm fine,” she declares, a little too brightly. Then, seemingly out of the blue, she asks, “Is Geraldine here with someone?”

You stop short, realizing you really don't know much about Geraldine beyond work. “I didn’t see her with anyone,” you say.

Wanda nods thoughtfully. Her next suggestion catches you by surprise. 

“Maybe you should invite her over to our table.”

Did you hear that correctly? Had Wanda just done a complete 180 regarding your assistant and was now interested in getting to know her? You shoot a suspicious glance at Agnes. Had she said something to Wanda to change her mind?

“Are you sure?” you ask, puzzled by her abrupt change of heart.

“I am,” Wanda affirms. “It might be nice to make a new friend.”

–

Back at the response camp, Darcy and Jimmy are huddled around the small, grainy television, waiting for the moment Wanda’s in her kitchen so they can send a message through her radio device. However, the usual domestic scenes are conspicuously absent, replaced by static and sporadic cuts to the ongoing Harvest Festival.

“Come on, come on,” Darcy mutters under her breath, shoving her glasses back up her nose. They've been slipping a lot lately, probably because she's been hunching over her work more than usual these past few days.

“It's this festival,” Jimmy says, squinting at the screen. “I think the whole town's out there tonight. I don’t think we’re going to get the chance.”

Their attempts to contact anyone inside the Hex are dwindling, and Hayward's interest leans more towards studying the energy barrier encasing the town rather than resolving the anomaly itself. His latest directive to launch another drone into the barrier feels like a brute force attempt to crack the problem. Jimmy thinks it’s a waste of time—and resources.

“Yeah, and you know what’s worse?” Darcy grumbles. “I have a bad feeling about Agnes. Every time she's around, things just seem to... escalate.”

As they watch, the screen cuts to a shot of Agnes at the festival, linking arms with Wanda, whispering something that makes Wanda’s expression tighten. “See, what did I tell you?” Darcy exclaims, pointing at the screen. “Who’s this Agnes again in real life?” she asks.

Jimmy swivels in his chair, his gaze sweeping across the expansive pinboard filled with photos of Westview residents. Agnes’s face is not among them. 

“No idea,” he says flatly. He had already run a search in the database, but it came back empty.

“So, we've identified Y/N, Monica, and Agnes as outsiders in Westview,” Darcy explains, tallying them off on her fingers. 

“That’s correct,” Jimmy confirms.

“And then there’s Wanda’s sons. But again… we haven’t seen any other children in the show besides the twins.”

Jimmy thinks about it for a while. It had never really occurred to him before. “Maybe they’re bound to show up at some point?”

“Smells fishy to me,” Darcy huffs. Her thoughts circle back to Agnes. “How do you think Agnes ended up here?” she asks, their list of unanswered questions growing daily.

Jimmy shrugs. “She could’ve just been visiting.”

Darcy considers it. It's a possibility, but somehow, it doesn't feel quite right—too simple, too convenient for someone as vibrant and prickly as the character Agnes portrays.

–

It's as if Wanda's animosity toward Geraldine just magically went away. 

They’ve been chatting for almost an hour. Initially, Wanda made sure to include you in the conversation, but as time passed, she and Geraldine started connecting over topics that didn’t involve you as much. Feeling somewhat left out but also at ease that the problem between your wife and your secretary has apparently resolved itself, you decide to check out the festival booths.

This is where Agnes finds the perfect opportunity to get you alone. She starts her approach—to your surprise and discomfort—by acknowledging the elephant in the room.

“I know you don’t like me very much,” she says with a knowing smile. “Maybe we can change that tonight?”

You eye her with suspicion, easily seeing through her blatant attempts to flirt her way into your good graces.

“How exactly are we going to do that?” you ask, crossing your arms in front of you.

Agnes simply laughs off the cool reception you’ve given her. If anything, she revels in it. 

“By getting to know each other, obviously,” she says.

“Right.”

She takes your elbow, and you swear she can feel you recoil at her closeness, yet she doesn’t seem to care. She urges you forward, dictating the pace. Her grip is unexpectedly firm, as if to say you have no choice but to listen—like leaving isn't an option.

With you literally in her grasp, Agnes sets her plans into motion. “So, how did you and Wanda meet?” she asks.

You deliver the narrative precisely as it plays out in your memory, exactly as Wanda implanted it in your mind. “We grew up next to each other. Best friends since we were kids.” 

“How cute,” she says, in that smooth, supercilious tone that usually makes your skin crawl. But this time, with the memories of Wanda filling your head, you hardly notice.

“Yeah, I remember when I first saw her,” you continue, gazing into the distance as if the scene you speak of is right there before your eyes. “It was almost Halloween, and my mom had baked a pumpkin pie to welcome them to the neighborhood. She sent me to deliver it. Wanda answered the door.”

“Love at first sight?”

“More like the opposite,” you say, throwing Agnes a good-natured smile, something you’ve never done before. “She couldn’t stand me, and I felt the same way.”

“Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?” Agnes drawls before accompanying it with a short chuckle. “Who knows? Maybe there’s hope for us yet. You might end up not hating me so much after all.”

“Maybe…” you say, the smile reaching your eyes this time.

“Good, good,” Agnes says. “I can’t think of anything more romantic than growing up with the person you’ll be with for the rest of your life. Almost like it’s… sketched out, no?”

You nod at her, not sure where she’s going with this, but you appreciate the sentiment. You consider yourself lucky to have known Wanda most of your life. 

“So, you've lived in Westview your whole life?” Agnes asks.

“Yes,” you nod without hesitation.

“And you've only ever been to Westview?”

“No, of course not,” you laugh, ready to list off places you've been, but suddenly, you can't name any. The cities and trips that should come easily to your tongue just... don't materialize.

Not a single one.

Agnes watches you struggle with a blank expression. A second later, she begins throwing out suggestions, as if trying to help. 

“Canada?" 

You shake your head. 

“California?” 

Another shake.

“New York?”

No. This time, your eyes sting with the frustration of trying to pull something from the haze, realizing there’s nothing there. 

Have you really never been anywhere but Westview?

“Eastview, maybe?” she offers with a bit of sarcasm as she names the town next door.

“I—”

“How strange,” Agnes muses, driving home the final nail in the coffin of your crumbling peace.

You jerk your arm away from her grip and take a few instinctive steps back. “I need to pick up the twins,” you blurt out, seizing the first excuse that comes to mind. “We should be heading out soon.”

Without waiting for her reply, you start walking away, driven by a sudden, intense need to be with your boys, with Wanda. To hold them close, to find some stability. Because right now, you’re petrified by a fear you cannot name. 

“I heard Australia’s amazing this time of year!” Agnes calls after you.

The idea of not having been anywhere but Westview—it’s possible, right? Some people spend their entire lives in one place. But if this feeling—the one that's been gnawing at you lately—is real, if the world outside of Westview is truly non-existent, then what does that say about your life here?

What does it say about you?

[1920sladydectective]

Best Friend's Mother Ch.2

Hello, you find scroll to find part one earlier on this account as an ask for the lovely @shinyshayminflower or read it on AO3 with the following link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61009999/chapters/155858899

This is Part Two of Three! Enjoy my Loves!

That wasn’t the last time. Not at all. Even if sometimes, as you lay panting and dizzy in her silk sheets, you wished it was. 

Mel didn’t know, there was no way that she could and yet sometimes her gaze felt like a dozen little blades, carving your soul to bits. She still curled into you on the sofa, painted your nails, and drank wine with you. She was still your best friend. 

But you weren’t being hers. 

If you were, you wouldn’t be babbling as a strap on wrecked you, firm hands bruising your hips with each violent tug. It was maddening, face suffocated into plush pillows as Ambessa broke you again and again and again. You were her little plaything, enthralled and leaking with no idea how to stop it. 

You’d sit, inhaling cereal and fruit as Mel rambled about a new research paper whilst her mother’s eyes would trail your every movement like her exhausted, ensnared prey. 

Four weeks passed like that. Every daylight hour was spent traipsing about with Mel and Kino, beach ice creams and forest hikes, upscale bars and drunken Wii Sports matches. Night would fall, Mel would stretch and yawn and place a kiss to your head, dismissing herself. Kino would have another drink, another match, then leave you to your ‘reading’. 

You would end up in her bed within the hour. Each greeting was soft and teasing, as if she didn’t expect you. 

“Good evening,” Her eyes glimmered, naked, always fucking naked “Need something,” 

“I-”

A clicked tongue. She made you say it every single time. “I need you,”

And you did, which was the worst part. You needed her gasps, her harsh touch and special, private laugh. The warmth in you was stoked to a destructive flame, arousal all too similar to affection as she stroked back your sweaty hair. 

It was just sex. It was just sex. It was just sex. 

The candle in her room had changed. You hated the citrus scent, it made you think of days cleaning coffee shop bathrooms and you’d mentioned it one night, head burrowed in her armpit. Now, as you allowed her to devour your lips, the salty seaside hit your nose. It was considerate, it doused the flames, it stopped mattering with her tongue on your clit. 

Ambessa’s kindness increased the more you gave yourself to her, pretty words slipping into your head as she told you about her day, and asked tenderly about yours. You were her Darling, her Sweet Girl. 

The gifts started and you had no idea how to make them stop. 

It started small, almost imperceptibly so. As you rushed out the door for lunch with Mel, your cheap lip gloss snapped, lid soaring onto Ambessa's foot. She promptly chucked it in the bin, snorting at you. That night, as she nibbled at your spent neck, she pressed a lip gloss into your hand. It was simple and sweet and from Dior because of a rich idiot lady. 

“Better than Collection, Dear,” 

“How would you know?” You scoffed, “You haven’t used Collection a day in your damned life,” 

“It was Mel’s first makeup when she was ten,” 

“I hate you,” 

Her silk pillow thwacked you, giggles falling from your tired lips. 

It stepped up after that. And up. And Up. And Fuck. 

Vintage Levi jeans, “Yours looked tired, Darling,” 

A trip to the hair salon with Mel, “Let me treat you girls, nice fresh cut and colour,” 

Your laptop shat the bed and the next morning a new one was handed to you at the table. Mel and Kino didn’t even blink, “Wouldn’t want your studies to suffer, Dear. Don’t mention it,” 

Linen pyjamas in several colours, each set worth more than your nine year old phone, “Sleep is essential, therefore so is comfort,”

Speaking of which, a new fucking phone, though admittedly it did fade away into battery death. 

All of this, you could grapple with despite the pounding in your chest, the gifts worth pennies to their giver and impersonal at best. 

The real clusterfuck was each little thing that saw into your soul. A silly sandcastle making kit, after a drunken ramble about no childhood beach trips. Lobster for dinner, because whilst you loved the rolls, you’d never actually had a full one. Soft massages at the end of a rough session beneath her, firm hands turning you to melted butter in minutes. 

Half way through the seventh week, Kino returned to Uni and Mel received an invitation to a fashion event in Brighton for three days. With your tentative reassurance that you could manage, that her mother wouldn’t eat you (a bold faced lie), you somehow had the house to yourselves. 

The daylight hours became hers. 

Slow, lounging mornings where you could rest easily in her bed. No tiptoeing past Mel’s door, each creak making you nauseous. Breakfast in bed, Below Deck playing as you crunch through bacon and listen to the sounds of her humming in the shower. Ambessa stays in flowing pyjamas, floating through the space doing whatever she pleased. The luxury of staying in her bed until early afternoon is so sweet it rots your teeth. She manages to drag you to the poolside by two and you realise it is the first time you’ve seen her in a swimming costume. She’s majestic about it, of course, all rippling muscles and plush thighs. The water parts for her with ease, her hair in a tight braid as she does seemingly a full exercise in the time you acclimatise to the temperature. Once her laps were done, she slipped out of the water, hips swaying. You watched her, eyes shifting from coy to wide as the tiny fabric was discarded and she jumped back in nude. 

Her face, sin and sunshine, beamed at you with a shockingly sincere grin. That night, as you ate spaghetti straight from the pot with garlic bread for cutlery, you realised you loved her. She seemed oblivious, her mouth unable to escape the red stain of tomato sauce as she crunched through enough bread to kill a horse. Ice cream and sprinkles for dessert, curled on the loveseat in the cinema as she muttered nonsense throughout the whole film, pawing at you and eating ice cream noisily. Two hours later you had no idea what Trading Places was about and you’d cum on her face twice. 

“That was a waste of time,” You muttered, “Didn’t even watch the film,” 

Ambessa laughed, “Well, I had a wonderful time,” 

Your second day together a small, white box was left on your side of the bed, appearing after your shower. She was in her office on a work call, but patience had never been your strong suit. Bright, cascading chiffon rested in the box, your dream dress sitting calmly as if you hadn’t gazed at it every week for four years. 

For Dinner, Sweet Girl x

The note had frogs dancing in your throat. Since your complex revelation the night before, you’d searched frantically for a way to stem the flood of emotion, to cut this tryst short. Each attempt fizzled on an unsure, romantic tongue. It was only a couple of weeks anyway, a handful of time and then you could be free. So dinner, whatever it would be, was manageable. You were pulled from your distractions by a rhythmic rip, rip, rip. Mina had gotten into the wrapping paper and was asserting dominance accordingly, idiot. 

DInner, it turned out, was a Michelin star restaurant that insisted on black out dining. You’d made yourself pretty as a bloody picture and you were shrouded in darkness. It was supposedly to increase the sensation, the food speaking to you with its layered flavour profiles as your senses could focus more heavily on taste. It was nonsense, with an upcharge so astounding they made sure you couldn’t see the bill to question it. That being said, fumbling around wine and plates in the dark was fun. Ambessa’s husky voice spoke to you through the darkness, telling you stories of similar restaurants in far off places, or prompting you to ramble about your latest read. The food was good, but you privately agreed to yourself that the catering for the party had been better. Gentle, sure and slight, a familiar finger stroked against your inner thigh. Wine caught in your throat, a stuttered gurgle as you kicked out hard to get her to stop. A man’s voice cried out instead. 

“Fuck, sorry,” You said, cheeks burning. 

Ambessa’s cheeks strained under her teeth’s pressure, barely keeping a cackle at bay, “Very smooth, Dear,” 

Dinner ended rapidly after that. You were dessert after all. 

Ambessa was at least gentle about removing this dress. It was folded neatly on the side, as she wiped your mind from you. Each surface was to be christened, glistening worship at every altar as the house became yours. Her face, so full of fondness and amusement, hung like a guillotine above your head. Danger lurked, trouble brewed, and yet. 

Your little holiday ending was an odd, smarting ache. Things were the same between you and yet the difference was a physical manifestation. Mel, sweet, perfect Mel.

She had grilled you about everything in her absence, your cover story a bland tale. Books, some thesis work, a swim or two. Truth bled into the lies, your conscience desperate for small drips of relief. Trading Places is a good film, you’d said, ended up watching it with your Mum as if it was movie night. Mel had laughed, calling you a creature of habit. 

Week nine of the ten week holiday began and you were destined to leave in six days time, roadtripping back to Edinburgh. Lines had never seemed blurrier. You were reticent to leave, her words like honey coating every part of you they touched as she spoke amorously of the summer months that had slipped by. It was clear she cared, each word dripping with something you dared not call love

Another party, smaller this time, on your last full day. A barbeque with newfound friends and a few of Ambessa’s actual associates. It made you resent Mel for suggesting it, resent Ambessa for agreeing and resent yourself for placing the blame in all the wrong places.  Ambessa had chattered to you casually that morning, listing off recipes and plans, ignoring your suggestions and reheating your tea twice as you forgot about it. You laughed, picturing what it would be like when you came back here, how many new recipes she’d force you to try. How many of them she’d actually bother to cook herself.

It was nice enough, more homely than the grand party, with buckets of beers and self-serve salads. You finally beat Viktor at Chess, though the success felt stolen as he was so drunk his eyes were shut. Mel and Caitlyn were currently trying to wrestle Jayce and Vi for the music controls. It would have been fun, and yet. Ambessa was far away, another island dancing in view, promising a greatness that was out of reach. The heated glaces were few and far between, the touches brief and the smiles standard as a necessity. You ached to lose her, it would be so long before you saw each other again. That was the sentimentality talking, you begged it to shut up with a wagyu burger. 

Mel, drunk and happy, wanted a girly sleepover for the last night in the house. It crushed your heart twofold. You would miss time with Ambessa, you were the worst person perhaps ever for thinking of that first. Still, with a heavy heart, you giggled in her four poster bed with a bottle of white wine and green, slimy face masks. 

Neon numbers showed it was four am and Mel Medarda was sleeping like a log. Carefully, each cell tensing with strain, you extracted yourself from the room and slipped down the hallway. 

She was there, as you knew she would be even after her distance at the party. Her face was warm, soft and hazy as the weight of the moment settled. You started the dance, practiced and smooth now, but she took a new step. 

“I need you,” It was half choked, your body crushed as she took you into the room, kisses thundering all over your skin. 

It was bliss, a gentle lovemaking she had never permitted before, with trembling hands and docile eyes. Nothing mattered outside this room, outside the rocking and the groaning, her lips kissing your ear with each back and forth movement. It soothed a part of you, so desperate for her care and attention. 

Once full of each other, you allowed yourself the indignity of clinging to her. She traced shapes along your stomach, reminding you that you were her special girl, so perfect and warm, so delicious. You felt almost delirious, trading heavy kisses for romantic words. You loved her and maybe she was showing you that was okay.

Morning came and with it the end of your perfect summer. 

Breakfast was served and eaten slowly, the Land Rover piled high with Mel’s opulence and admittedly now some of your own, courtesy of Ambessa’s constant material kindness. Mel seemed reluctant to leave too, her whispered confessions that this was the calmest time she’d ever had with her mother echoing in your head. Rictus returned, as if like clockwork to service Ambessa as you left, lest she be left to her own devices. 

He walked away to his chambers to unpack and the list of things for the journey back to Uni was consulted. Once. Twice. A short trip up to my room and we’re ready, your friend assured. 

Time slowed as Mel ran to grab the last of her things, leaving the two of you alone in the kitchen. 

“Well,” You chuckled nervously. 

“It was so good to have you, Dear,” Her voice sounded wrong, the warmth fleeting as you tried to chase it. Where had your Ambessa gone?

“Yes, um Thank you,” You said, shoved onto the wrong foot, affection flickering, “I have your number so I’ll ring you when I’m back,” 

As her face dropped, your heart did, “Whyever would you need to do that?” 

Oh Gods. Her pampering, each trinket and trophy you wore and used, each shared dinner and tender laugh pushed you into a foolish forgetting. No amount of love making and promises of devotion had changed her initial terms. 

You were a toy, remember?

“I-I don’t know,” You stammered, “Just in case,” 

“Just in case,” Words lined with pity, her golden gaze condescending. Oh darling, it teased, you didn’t fall in love did you?

Your Ambessa was gone. A figment of imagination, fuelled by summer sun. Part of you hoped she used to be nice, used to be yours and that this was a fearful change of heart. 

A patronising pat to the cheek, words you didn’t hear as you faded into the background. 

Down the Guillotine slammed.

[e-m-ma-lmfao]

PLS YOU NEED TO WRITE MORE FICS ABOUT ASTARION the one you did was so good and cute ☹️☹️ i love it

Let Me Clean Your Wounds

pairing : astarion x (fem) reader

summary : a long week of hard work leaves your party tired and injured. you offer to clean astarions and to your surprise, he accepts.

warnings : talk about blood.

a/n : thank you anon :0 i STILL have not played baldurs gate (so i apologize again for my lack of knowledge).

It had been an incredibly long week. 

It started by someone in the party pointing out that you had no more money left. So you had to spend your days doing odd jobs for people in the nearby town. 

However, a few of them had failed to mention the fact that their job requests could end up harming you in more ways than one. An easy job, like gathering fruit for an old lady who can’t venture out that far anymore, suddenly turned into fighting a hag in the woods for trespassing on her property. 

The compensation received was hardly enough for the injuries you and your party would gather on your bodies throughout the day. 

As powerful as your group was, being caught off guard by some giant creature in the woods left you at a disadvantage. And when calmly mentioned to the people of the village, suggesting that their pay be higher for sending you to do such strenuous tasks so they wouldn’t be attacked themselves, they threw their arms up to you. 

Calling you greedy and saying you were trying to steal their gold. Of course that didn’t sit well with the nearby guards, and while jumping to conclusions without any investigation, you were thrown in a cell. Not all your party, just you, as the leader. 

You weren’t released until a member of your party persuaded them, using the gold you had just earned from the townspeople’s ridiculous jobs. 

So you packed up your camp, and ventured out to find another village. One where you hadn’t been put behind bars for scheming and trying to steal gold from the elderly. 

When you found a nice spot, and a town that looked to have more than enough gold to go around, you set up camp in the nearby woods. The townspeople were less than friendly, but at least they were honest about their jobs. 

They made it abundantly clear that they would not be handing out charity and that you had to work for the gold you earned. That turned out to be a challenge after a few jobs had been completed , and it had clicked that your party has been consistently acquiring injuries over the last few days. 

Your party was down in power. You were lacking in energy, and it was showing in the way your attacks would fly but often miss or hit with not much force behind them. 

So after completing one last job, and buying some fresh meat from the town, you decided to rest. Finally caving into the exhaustion, you felt almost weak when Lae’zel complained about stopping. But nobody else seemed to have any complaints. 

Lae’zel was hasty to eat, along with almost everybody else in the party. They got a fire started and the warmth hugged your body, but while scanning over everyone’s face you realized just how rough your condition had become . 

Everyone seemed to be holding up all right, you weren’t too worried, but as you looked in closer you noticed Astarion was seated farther away from the fire picking at his skin. 

Curious, you left the warmth of the fire and wandered over to him. 

“Mind if I sit?” 

“No, well, not much. But I don’t think you’d listen if I said I did.” You shook your head at him before taking a seat beside him. 

His face was pretty bruised up, cuts on his cheek and lip. And his arms were covered with scratches that it was continuing to pick at. 

You took another glance before standing up and walking back over to your own tent to grab some bandages, your flask of water, and a rag of some sort to wipe his wounds. When you came back he stared at you with amusement in his eyes. 

“What exactly are you planning to do with all that, darling?” 

“You're covered in cuts, have to clean them up so they don’t scar your pretty face. Let me clean your wounds?” You tried not to let the pet name have any effect over you, but you were sure your thoughts were showing through your cheeks. His hand moved to touch his cheek, as if he didn’t believe that he truly did have any injuries, wincing as his finger brushed against a larger cut. 

“You’re seriously worried about me when you’re in the same condition? For the love of the gods , you were thrown in a cell this week and you're truly worried about some cuts on my cheeks?”

“May I?” You held the rag up in your hands, pouring some water over it. He nodded, hesitantly of course, but he allowed it anyway. 

Gently, you placed the dampened rag over his cuts, wiping away at the dried blood and layer of dirt covering his pale skin. His brows furrowed, the sight causing you to let out a giggle. Usually, Astarion was very closed off, so being this close to him and him allowing you to help him was sort of new to you. 

“Why are you laughing? I’m in pain and your ..giggling?” He tried to be stern and serious, his usual facade, but a small smile was playing at the corner of his lip.  

“I’m sorry,” You let out another giggle as you swiped away at his skin and his eyebrows furrowed once more, “It’s just cute, I’ve never seen your face scrunch up like that.”

He seemed to pause, his mouth slightly agape as he stared at you. You were being serious. You thought he was cute, when he was covered in blood and dirt. Him showing a little weakness , you thought it was cute? 

“What? I know my face is probably dirty.” You rubbed at your cheek with your free hand, conscious of your appearance as his gaze lingered on your face. He didn’t care though, he was too busy thinking about your words. 

“Cute is an absurd word to use when describing someone like me. I’m too handsome to be described in such ..simple terms.” His smirk returned to his face, your mouth now agape unsure of whether he was serious or not. 

“C’mon now Astarion, I never said you weren’t handsome. I just said you were cute with your face all scrunched up like that.” The rag sat in your lap, his face was clean, his cuts just needed a little cover up. 

“So you do think I’m handsome?” He leaned in closer , his voice captivating. 

“Well I never said that either.” You placed your hand on his chest to distance yourself , ripping off a piece of the bandaging in your hands and manipulating it into place on his cheek. 

He wore a subtle pout on his lips but when you moved in close and kissed his cheek, in a moment of boldness,  it soon fell away. 

Astarion’s hands brushed against your own, taking the damp rag and pouring more water onto the other unused end. 

“My turn, darling.” The rag, making contact with your skin, made goosebumps appear on your skin. It was colder than you expected, and you knew there had to be small cuts littering your face by the way it stung. Your face must have tensed because he took his turn to laugh at you. 

“You know, you are very beautiful, even with your face all scrunched up.” He was mocking you. obviously, but his voice mixed with his compliments made your cheeks flush. 

A final swipe along your cheek and he pulls the rag away, “There. All clean, my dear.” 

His hand reached out to cup your cheek, but before the act became too intimate, he changed his course and ran his hand along the side of your hair to flatten it down. 

“You really are quite pretty .” He knew his words had such a serious effect on you, as you never tried to hide the fact that your feelings for him were far from platonic interest. It was so weird seeing him be so friendly, and flirty in a way that wasn’t meant to manipulate.

“Would you stop? It’s not nice to tease y'know.” 

“And who told you I was teasing, my dear? Was it Lae’zel cause I’ve always thought she might have a thing for me.” He laughed at the end of his sentence, joking. “I would never tease a woman as pretty as you, that would be very cruel of me.” 

“Do you want to join me by the fire?” His gaze shifted to look at the group seated around the fire, he seemed to ponder before looking back at you with furrowed brows. 

“I can smell their horrible odor from here.” You huffed, pushing his shoulder. He looked once more, and seemed to ponder some more but his face was hard enough to read when he wasn’t looking away from you. 

Astarion groaned, ringing out the wet rag still sitting in his hands. “That is not an answer, Astarion. I’m cold, and the fire looks so nice.”

“Fine, if we must, we can go,” You smiled down at him as you stood but it was replaced with a look of shock when he pulled you to sit back down, “On one simple condition.” 

You rolled your eyes, “What could you possibly want from me?” 

He stayed silent for a second, but as he noticed you becoming increasingly impatient he began to speak.

“A kiss. Not a petty one, and not on my cheek. I mean a real one.” You were flush in the face once more. He seemed totally serious, a permanent smirk painted on his face, but his eyes stared into your own without any sign of humor. You honestly thought he might be mocking you. 

“Okay. I can do that. Easy, but only if you’re nice and say please.” 

“Now who’s teasing.” You only stared at him, sternly. If he wanted to act like a child, and demand rewards in order to complete simple tasks, then you could tease him like one. “Fine. Please…pretty please.”

Your eyes widened, you didn’t think you had ever heard him say please to anyone, let alone add in a “pretty”.

 He didn’t move, he was entirely dead set on this. His face was close enough to yours that you didn’t have to shuffle very far. As gently as you could, in case he decided that he was joking and pulled away, you placed your hands on his face.

One hand cupping his cheek, fingertips rubbing at the hairs falling delicately in front of his ears, the other near the bottom of his cheek and holding onto his jaw. Slowly, you pulled him in until your lips met his. You still weren’t entirely convinced that he was serious, but when his fingers entangled in your hair and pulled you in deeper, you had a hunch that he might not be joking. 

He didn’t let you pull away until he was entirely satisfied. Your breath was heavy, and your skin was hotter than before in multiple ways. 

“I haven’t had a meaningful one in a long time, darling. Thank you.”

“Should we go sit by the fire?” You stood up, legs wavering before stiffening, and you offered him out your hand. He took it in his large one, following you to the fire, sitting beside you. There was a heavy silence, causing you to look around and see everybody's eyes already on you. 

“What?”

“If you guys are gonna keep sucking each other's faces, could you please do it in a tent? You made me lose my appetite.”

[hyunsvngs]

𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐲 - han jisung x gn!afab reader (side lee minho x gn!afab reader)

wc: 5.6k

rating: 18+. MDNI

cw: best friends fuckin, gender neutral pronouns used but reader is afab, jisung being stupid, minho being slay, smut warnings under the cut!

synopsis: after spending a night with the man of your dreams, your best friend won’t look you in the eyes or reply to your texts. what did you do wrong? nothing - he just wants you.

a/n: part two of the fratboy series!! i really hope you guys enjoy this one bc bratty ji means so much to me :D

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: ji is a brat, reader is dom in this one, READER IS MEAN (JISUNG LOVES IT), face slapping, oral (reader rec), dirty talk, degradation (ji rec), pussy drunk!jisung, cum eating, slight edging (both)?

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You woke up the next morning feeling incredibly satiated, for once in your life. Minho had managed to fulfill a lot of kinks that you didn’t even know you had, realistically, and you praised yourself for being so dumb to announce that you wanted to be his sex slave last night. The dominant man had given you more than enough attention, and you knew you’d want to come back for more. 

Waking up in Minho’s bed didn't feel strange, weirdly enough. He’d headed out early, and left you a little plate consisting of a tall glass of water and a snack with a note saying that he had to leave for his shift at work, and that he was sorry. You grinned at the note. He was courteous enough to do that even after fucking your brains out the night before. You’d eaten the snack - a simple assortment of fruits - and downed the water, before heading home for the day. 

After a shower and a clean outfit a lot more casual than what you’d worn the night before, you felt fresh and ready. Well, as fresh and ready as you could be considering you’d tried to phone and text your best friend multiple times since leaving the frat house and he’d literally been ignoring you.

You blinked down at your phone, seeing another text sent by you to Jisung that had simply been left on read. You’d even tried to phone him, but he’d let it go straight to the answering machine. After the third ‘this is legendary rapper J.One, spit bars after the beep’, your patience had run thin. You were confused, obviously, because what the fuck had you done to bother him so much? He was fine with you sleeping with Minho last night, and he honestly had no right to be angry about it when him and Felix had been so fucking persistent about it. Speaking of, you wondered if the resident sunshine had any idea what you’d done to the other member of your triad. 

You quickly went onto the contacts app, clicking Felix’s name that was fortunately close to the top, given your late night group FaceTimes with Jisung. He answered almost immediately. 

“Hey, angel. What’s up?”

You blanched. You hadn’t gotten this far in your plan. “Hey, Lix. I was just wondering, um… have I done something to annoy Jisung? He’s like, completely leaving me on read when I text him and he’s refusing to answer any calls.”

Felix went silent at the end of the line. “Oh, right. Yeah.”

“... What does that mean?” 

“His room is next to Minho’s, you know, and he was in bed when you fucked Minho. He woke up not too long after you put him to bed,” his deep voice was anything but comforting. “He heard everything.”

“Oh. Okay. Why is this a problem?” You three knew everything and anything about each other, and you’d literally exposed your undying lust for his older frat brother the night before. What’s the big deal? Also, given the state Jisung was in last night, you were honestly shocked he remembered hearing anything, let alone actually waking up. You’d actually thought he’d be out for the count, sleeping all day and nursing a horrific hangover after too many of his Hanji Supremes.

“Well, you know Ji. He’s insanely horny. It turned him on and now he’s terrified to look into your eyes because he’s thinking about it.”

Oh. Oh. He was thinking about you and Minho? Was it Minho he was focused on, or you? You went silent on the line, and after a few times of Felix repeating your name to get your attention, you finally answered. 

“Right. Right, yeah. That makes sense. Thanks for clearing that up, Lix,” you replied, still quiet. You weren’t too sure how to address it. “What do I do?”

Felix’s deep chuckle resounded over your tinny phone speakers. “Apart from fucking him senseless, I don’t think anything else could help him here unfortunately.”

You raised your eyebrows. Had you thought about that before, fucking your best friend? Of course you had. You were no stranger to Jisung’s sexual preferences in bed, knowing that he liked to be a brat and be treated a little meanly by someone powerful. ‘A little’ being an understatement, actually. It was something you were no stranger to, and honestly, you knew that if you ever wanted no-strings-attached sex, it would be Jisung you’d go to. No thought needed on that one. You knew Felix was probably joking, but it was making you think on the topic. Could you do it? Could you fuck your best friend?

Yeah. Yeah, you could. It had you wondering if Minho would mind, but you quickly shook that thought out of your head. You’re not together. You can have a bit of no-strings-attached sex with your friend.

You hummed, nodding. “Okay. I can do that.”

“W-Wait, Y/N, I was-” You hung up the line, a determined set to your jaw. You were gonna go to that frat house and find out what the fuck had gotten up Jisung’s ass - if Felix was right, then he was going to have the time of his life. If he was wrong, then you had another situation to solve, which would be no problem. You had some weird feeling that Felix was right, though.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You arrived at the frat house, narrowing your eyes at the front door. Something about it seemed so offending to you. The fact that one of your two best friends was in there right now, wallowing in loathe and hatred for you just because he wanted you to be mean to him? You could do that. You knew that you could be a little mean. You also knew that you were making some vast assumptions. You swung open the door, not caring about knocking, and started to storm up the stairs to Jisung’s room.

“Damn, Y/N, back for more already-” You ignored Seungmin’s quip as you stormed up the stairs, and swung open Jisung’s bedroom door. It was messy, as usual, clothes strewn everywhere that were probably both dirty and clean. Random cans of pop were sitting on his desk and his skateboard was propped up against the wall, looking like it had seen better days. His bed wasn’t even made. You resisted the urge to chastise him on the mess and instead stared straight at his sitting figure, hunched over the desk staring at his laptop, his large over-ear headphones resting on his head. The music production major hadn’t even noticed you’d come in, head bobbing to the beat blasting through the headphones. He was in work mode. 

Fuck work mode. You stormed over, ripping the dark blue headphones off his head and throwing them onto the desk. He turned to you, round eyes immediately widening further and jaw dropping slightly. His cheeks had already begun to burn crimson. You felt a bit bad, sighing at his facial expression. You were becoming soft already. “Sungie, honey, what’s wrong? What did I do?”

“I-” Jisung stared at you. He was unable to form words, tugging at the sleeves of his oversized black hoodie. “Nothing. I didn’t expect- why- you’re here?”

You raised your eyebrows. You weren’t too convinced that Felix was right anymore, with Jisung being a ball of nerves and anxiety in front of your very eyes. You immediately started rambling, unable to stop yourself. “Yes, I’m here, because my best friend was leaving my texts on seen and wasn’t picking up my calls. Which you never do, you can’t ever shut the fuck up. You can’t blame me for thinking I’ve done something wrong here, Sungie. You didn’t seem to mind last night, and I’m sorry if I made it weird by sleeping with Minho, but-”

“N-No!” Jisung stammered out. He rubbed his sweaty palms on his joggers, before throwing his head in his hands and sighing. He looked about five seconds away from kicking out his feet and screaming. “Not done anything wrong. You haven’t, I mean. I have.”

You were no stranger to Jisung when he was like this, stumbling over words and not able to get his point across. You sat cross legged on the floor in front of him, just patiently waiting, speaking with a soft voice. “Just tell me, Sungie. Is it something we can fix?”

“Yeah. No. Yeah. Okay. Maybe. Like, so… you’re gonna think I’m a freak.”

“I always think you’re a freak, Jisung.”

Jisung scoffed, flicking your forehead. He spun on the computer chair to face you. “Shut up. Do you want to know or not?” You nodded eagerly, resting your hands on his knees. He looked at your hands as if they’d offended him, as if they’d framed him for murder or something. “I- I- Okay. Okay! Haha. Yeah. Okay, so basically, I heard you and Minho last night. Room’s next door, y’know?”

You pursed your lips. “Makes sense. Thin walls.”

“Thin walls,” Jisung agreed, nodding. He looked dazed, eyes fixating on the wall behind you. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling at the strands in hesitation. “It’s just- you know. Minho was mean.”

“Y-Yeah.” You tried to avoid thinking of last night with Minho as if it hadn’t plagued your dreams afterwards anyway. In reality, you were getting sick of this conversation. Surely he could give you a little more here? You weren’t a mind reader.

“Yeah. He was mean. I guess it… yeah, okay, it turned me on. I wanted to be… like that,” Jisung mumbled. He was still staring at the wall, but his eyes were narrower, as if he was really focusing on something. Probably the memory of what he’d heard. “Not like Minho. I wanted to be like you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You… wanted to be like me? With Minho? That’s okay, Jisung-”

“No!” He practically screamed, jolting up off the chair. He started to pace, running his hands through his hair even more, before shaking his head. He pointed at you with an incriminating stare. “Well, I wouldn’t be opposed. But I was thinking of you as Minho, and me as you. You get me?”

You almost gasped out loud. So, Felix was right. “Y-You want me to be… mean to you, Jisung?”

Jisung stopped pacing. He was almost vibrating with nerves and excitement. “I- Yeah. Yeah, I do. I know it’s weird, because you’re my best friend, but I-”

You found yourself speaking before you’d even planned on saying anything. “Did that get you all hot last night, Sungie? Did you jerk off hearing me and Minho, and wishing it was me being nasty to you?”

Jisung blinked. For a moment, you thought you’d gone too far, and his round eyes simply stared directly into your soul. You began to speak, to apologize, to say anything to diffuse the tension, but Jisung was shifting on his spot, jumping from foot to foot. He started pulling at his joggers, lithe fingers yanking the fabric every which way and- oh.

Oh. He was hard. Painfully so.

It hit you then, how much you wanted your best friend. You’d always been attracted to him, you weren’t blind, but you’d always strictly put each other in the friendzone. Maybe some friendly fun could be okay? It was convincing when he stood in front of you, all messy chestnut hair and pouty lips that begged to be kissed, maybe even bitten. He was pitching what looked like a very uncomfortable tent in his joggers, sweater paws pulling at the cotton uncomfortably. 

You let out a breath of air, staring at his bulge. If you squinted just right, you could probably see the definition of it. “… J-Ji, do you want to…?”

“God, Y/N, please.” With those words, you shot up from your seated position and pushed him up against the wall, his back hitting it with an almost silent thud. He gripped your shirt immediately, clenching his fingers tight around the cotton and looking as if he was going to burst out of his own skin at the anticipation. You slammed your lips together, teeth clacking and making the kiss not at all friendly but the whine Jisung let out was worth it. You could smell his cologne, something that smelled faintly of flowers but still so Jisung. 

He breathed heavily into the kiss as you pressed your tongue into his mouth, using one hand to reach up and pull on his hair softly. He whined again at this, hips just barely moving forward from the wall in an attempt to gain friction. Desperate, you mused, and the revelation didn’t shock you at all. You pressed your body further against his, pinning him against the wall covered in miscellaneous rap posters and hearing the paper crinkle behind him. You pulled away from the kiss, just letting your head stay close to his so that your wet lips were still brushing against his pouty ones to tease him. It worked - he looked like he was about to die if you didn’t kiss him again.

Tentatively, you took your hand from his hair and moved it downwards to wrap around his neck, squeezing the sides. You could feel his heartbeat, quick and heavy against your fingertips. His cheeks were flaming, bright crimson and his chest heaving underneath the thick fabric of his hoodie.

“P-Please. Please, I- Been good, I’ve not been bad, not been a bad boy-“ You huffed at his babbling, shoving your free hand down his joggers. When meeting the lack of boxers, you laughed internally. It was just so Jisung to work on music with no underwear on. It wouldn’t surprise you if he had nothing under his hoodie either. 

You tightened your fingers in a ring around the base of his length instantly, brushing past the smattering of dark hair on his pubic bone. He was thick, heavy in your hand and absolutely pulsing with need. He instantly let out a rather high pitched moan and writhed, trying to fuck into the tight ring you’d created around his cock. “You’ve not been bad, huh? Explain to me why such a good boy was jerking off to his best friends fucking last night then, Sungie.”

Jisung writhed, hands flying up to grip your shoulders. You started to jerk him off at a languid pace, taking your time and staring into his eyes. He looked like he was trying to answer, brain running a hundred miles per second but no words came out of his mouth, only incoherent babbles. You raised your eyebrows mockingly. “Good boys fucking answer when they’re asked a question.”

Jisung simply blinked at you, unabashed moans still tumbling out from his dropped jaw. His eyes were darting between your hand, still moving at a slow pace, and your eyes, soft but menacing. You tore your hand away, his fingers immediately digging into your shoulders in protest.

“N-No! No, didn’t- I didn’t mean to, was just- hnng.” He was struggling to get his words out, toes curling in his socks against the carpeted floor and his eyes watering with tears. “Please. ‘M so hard, Y/N, please. Fuckin’- make me cum, Jesus-”

“I know you’re fucking hard, obviously I can see that. It’s pathetic,” you scoffed. “Get on the bed. Don’t make me repeat myself again.”

The doe-eyed boy nodded frantically, throwing himself onto the bed. He sat down, gripping at the hem of his sweatpants. 

“Off. Take ‘em off,” he mumbled, staring up at you with a glint in his eye. Oh, he was doing this shit deliberately, wasn’t he? Why couldn’t he just take them off himself? “Please?”

“Fucking brat,” you muttered. You were in disbelief, in all honesty. Your best friend was a slut. It almost made you imagine what Felix was like in bed, if he’d be good for you or if he’d be an absolute brat like Jisung, or maybe he’d want you to be good for him like Minho did. You leaned forward, gripping his cheeks between your thumb and your index finger. His cheeks squished together comically, but he was still looking at you expectantly. You almost folded when you realized. “You want me to slap you?”

“Fucking- yes,” He groaned, trying to nod frantically, your fingers preventing him from doing so. You pulled your hand back, reaching back and delivering a slap to his round cheek. He immediately reeled with the sensation, bucking his hips up into thin air. “O-Oh. Yeah. Harder, harder, hit me harder-“

“You are so fucked up,” you said, in full shock. Your eyes were wide but you tried to hide it, shaking your head and sighing. You gave him another firm slap to his cheek, the same one, making him whine. “You are so fucked up, Jisung. You like being slapped in the face?”

He looked up at you, a stupid grin on his face. His cheek was smarting red from the abuse. “You’re even more fucked up. You like slapping me-“

You pushed him down by his shoulders, yanking his joggers off with one hand and keeping your other hand on his upper body to keep him still. He immediately yanked at the fabric of his hoodie, and you sighed, releasing your grip on him for him to pull that off too.

Immediately, planes of milky skin were exposed to you, the hinting of abs underneath his skin from gym nights with Changbin making you feel like you could drool. His cock laid hard against his tummy, hard and leaking amidst the hair adorning his pubic region. He was so fucking shameless. He was getting off from you hurting him, and being mean to him, and he didn’t give a fuck about it. 

Jisung smiled, revealing his pearly white teeth. He leaned up on his forearms. “Like what you see?”

“Oh my God, do you ever shut the fuck up?” Jisung shook his head at your words, still smiling. You rolled your eyes, pulling your t-shirt and sports bra off with ease and revealing your chest. His eyes immediately went down to the exposed skin, his smile dropping. It was your turn to smile. “Maybe if you’d have been good, I’d let you have them in your mouth. But no. You’re just fucking filthy, Jisung.”

Jisung looked up at you, chest heaving and flushed with a deep blush similar to the shocking color on his cheek. He’d started to shift around impatiently against his messy bedding. “Filthy. ‘M- Yeah. Yeah. I am. Sit on my cock now,” You narrowed your eyes at him writhing on the sheets. “Please?”

You scoffed. You wiggled your own joggers off, leaving your underwear covering your core. “You think it’s that easy? Not everyone gets as turned on as you so fucking fast. No, I’m gonna sit on your face and you’re gonna at least try to put those lips to good use. It’s the only thing that’ll make you shut the fuck up.”

Jisung let out a squeal as you crawled up onto the bed, shuffling on your knees until your clothed core was right above his lips. He immediately latched his lips onto your clit, soaking the fabric with his spit while he sucked hard. His hands went up to your ass, gripping tightly - you allowed him to have that small success.

He was a lot more precise than you’d expected, licking over and over again at the fabric until it was sodden and practically falling off of your core. Maybe it was due to his rapper tongue. You’d been trying not to let out noises all the way through, simply letting out some pleased sighs and gasps when his tongue flicked a certain way. The fabric was restricting though, not allowing you to feel his tongue properly. 

“There you go, that’s good enough. You can move it to the side now baby,” Jisung nodded between your legs, slender fingers coming to hook into the hem of your underwear and revealing your core. You were briefly shocked he’d even listened to you. It had, admittedly, become wet all from you making out and touching his cock a little earlier, but you’d never admit it if you were to keep up this persona that he so desperately craved. He whined at tasting you properly, wide licks cleaning up the mess between your folds and making your thighs twitch at the sensation. 

He was moaning into your core, shifting his hips up as if he was chasing your hole when it wasn’t even above his cock. You heard him mumbling something in between licks and you lifted off, allowing him to speak.

“Just- Just, please, sit on my cock. Please. Look’it,” Jisung’s lips were covered in a clear sheen from your pussy, his eyes wet with tears. He looked thoroughly broken. He hadn’t even made you cum yet, you mused, but in a moment of relent you lifted yourself off of his face and turned to look at his cock. It did look pathetic, actually, laying against his tummy in a pool of dribbling precum and steadily still leaking more. His hands went to grip the sheets, trying to avoid pumping his cock. You felt for him, just a bit, because you didn’t think you had ever seen a cock that wet in your life. 

“Oh, baby, look at that,” you falsely cooed, dragging your fingers down to pick up some of the precum on his soft skin. He whined, nodding at your words. You pressed a finger into your mouth, watching Jisung stare at you intently while you hummed at the taste. It didn’t taste of much, just with a bit of a salty aftertaste. “That’s pathetic. Look at all that going to waste, huh?”

“‘S not- Can’t help it,” Jisung mumbled. You’d officially broken him, you thought. Gone was his bratty behavior and it was replaced with watering, big brown eyes and a quivering pouty bottom lip. “Need your pussy. It’s so wet, I know you need it too, I-“

You pressed your finger into the pool of precum again, coating your index and middle finger and pressing it into Jisung’s mouth to effectively shut him up. He moaned around your fingers, tongue swirling around the pads as if he was sucking a cock. You laughed in disbelief, shaking your head.

“Now that’s fucking filthy. Do you like tasting your own cum? That’s pathetic, Sungie,” Jisung moaned at your words, vibrating around your fingers in his mouth. He started to try to babble around your digits, making you pull your hand away from his face.

He licked his lips, panting. “Not cum. Haven’t cummed. It’s just wet ‘cause I need you to sit on it, ‘kay?” You sighed, acting disappointed.

“Hmm, I guess I could have some mercy. You gotta make me cum though, Sungie, or you’re not cumming. Does that sound okay to you?” You shimmied off your underwear, dumping it on the floor next to his clothes.

“Yeah! Yeah! I can make you cum, yep! You just gotta- it’s- sit on it, I mean, will fill you up-“ You moved again, straddling his hips and resting your hands on the hints of his abs, soft skin beneath your palms. You lowered your now naked core over his length, solid and hot in between your folds. You started grinding along his dick, and Jisung looked fit to burst. “Are you- please! I can’t take it anymore, ugh!”

You shook your head. “Fucking brat. Beg.”

“Yeah, please, fuck please! Please, please need your pussy on my cock, please. I know I don’t deserve it, I know I’ve been bad,” Jisung spoke all in one breath, leaning up on his forearms to look at you. Your teasing had now caused fat tears to actually fall from his eyes, making you feel a bit bad. Maybe you had wound him up enough. “Shouldn’t have- shouldn’t have cum to you and Minho, I know, but you- could hear you moaning and I-“

You cut him off, raising a little to grip his length and sinking down onto it in one go. You shut your eyes, clenching them tightly while you adjusted to the size that was now pulsing against your walls. He was thick. The angle made sure that he was stretching out your hole perfectly, not too much to be uncomfortable. It made you let out a pleased sigh. You hadn’t had this privilege with Minho, just sitting there and letting yourself adjust, but then you’d loved it-

Before you could begin moving, Jisung flipped you over, beginning to thrust into you frantically. You jolted at the movement, letting out a loud moan. “Jesus- Jisung!”

“S-Sorry, sorry, no- I need to, fucking hell- gotta cum,” he was fucking into you at a quick pace, babbling about how good you felt around him. He’d grabbed your hips, pulling you up to meet his thrusts while he just used you as his fucktoy, eyes rolling back into his head.

“Y-You filthy fucking boy, look at you. Give you a bit of pussy and you get all fucking delirious, it’s p-pathetic,” You managed to get out. Jisung let out a loud moan at that, hips faltering. “Can’t even fuck me right, can you?” 

“Yeah! I can, I can, I’ve had loads of pussy,” Jisung mumbled, shifting his hips a little bit to try and get a better angle. He was working hard to please you, and in all honesty it did feel really good, but he was clearly getting off on being told otherwise. With an extra shift of the angle inside of you, he was pounding into your g-spot, making you falter and groan out loudly. “There. There! Told you, can make- oh fuck- can make it feel good- hnnnnng!”

You could feel the slick slide of his cock into your pussy, thrusting in and out and him moaning louder as he felt it get wetter with your arousal. It was dirty, extremely messy especially as you both worked together, thrusting against each other desperately for release. You gripped his biceps, fingers digging into the muscles as moans started to fall out of your mouth unabashedly.

“Oh God, baby, my baby, gonna cum-“

“Sungie, Sungie, wait, let me…” you reached down with two fingers and started to rub against your clit, thighs twitching with pleasure. You rubbed fast and quick, merciless as you tried to reach your orgasm with your best friend. His thrusts were staccato, uneven, but you rubbing your clit made up for any lost pleasure in the change of tempo. 

You quickly felt your high fast approaching, biting up your spine with the energy of a supernova. Domming Jisung like this had turned you on beyond belief, and finally having him put some effort into fucking you - well, you knew it wouldn’t take long. Your fingers were slipping as they rubbed across your bundle of nerves, but you pressed harder into the button and let the ecstasy overtake you.

Your toes curled as you finally let go. You bit into your lip to try not to moan out too loud, but small moans and whimpers still left your mouth at the intense feeling. Jisung had surprisingly hung on to the edge, watching you intently as you came and slowing his hips to a slow grind so that he didn’t cum inside you. You let your hand fall to the side as your orgasm finally subsided, chest heaving and bottom lip bitten raw. 

Jisung pulled out, pumping his cock erratically. His breath was heavy, whines falling out as he used your cum as lubricant to let himself orgasm. “Baby, where do I..?” 

You smiled. “Can do it on my tits if you want, Sungie.”

He moaned loudly at this, shuffling up to press his cockhead between your tits. It slid around messily with yours and his combined juices, but he quickly started grinding it down against your skin. It only took one, two, three thrusts before ropes of hot cum were flooding from his tip and even landing on your chin, making you stifle a giggle. He was loud, whining and sobbing through his orgasm as if you’d just given him the best thing he’s ever received in his life. You probably had.

He rubbed his thumb over his cockhead, finishing his orgasm before slumping to your side. 

“Fuckin’ wow. That was so good, oh my God. You’re totally such a good Dom, like what the fuck!”

You huffed. He really does never shut the fuck up, does he? “Ji, maybe stop talking and get me a towel?”

“Oh! Oh, right, yeah. Totally. I gotchu,” He shot you finger guns before hopping up off the bed, totally not bothered by being fully naked in front of you. He grabbed a small face towel from his drawer - it was surprisingly clean - and came over to you, wiping you delicately. You felt touched that he’d actually wiped you clean. It was Jisung, after all. It wouldn’t have shocked you if he’d licked it up. He stood up afterwards, wiping his now soft cock with a clean part of the towel.

You groaned as you heard your phone chime with a new text, leaning over to grab it from the pocket of your trousers on the floor. Your heart almost stopped beating.

It was Minho. Apparently, his shift had ended, and he’d texted you with a quick ‘come to my room when you’re done’. You gasped. Jisung quickly ushered around the bed with the de facto cum towel to read your phone over your shoulder.

“Oh shit. You totally got in trouble for fucking your best friend.”

You slapped him on the shoulder. “Shut up, Jisung!” You looked back to the text message, and typed a quick ‘sure’. You blushed, anxiety mounting in your stomach. “I hope he’s not mad.”

“Doubt he will be,” Jisung chirped, pulling a clean pair of boxers on. “Your high sex drive and thing for frat boys hasn’t gone unnoticed by any of us, Y/N. He knew what he was getting into by ruining that pussy-“

“Jisung, I hate you. Why did I fuck you again?”

“Because you wanted to see me cry.”

You huffed, pushing past him to put your clothes back on. Your hair was mussed up, and you knew you smelled of sex. Trying to push that thought aside, you quickly shoved your socks back on before going to make out the door. 

“Hey!” You turned around to face Jisung. He didn’t even look sheepish, standing there with his hands on his hips and tapping his foot. “Got anything to say to me?”

Rolling your eyes, you gave him a quick “love you, Ji” before leaving his room. You heard him sing-song an affirmation back to you, but you were already making your way into Minho’s room, not bothering to lock the door.

He was laying on his back, dressed more comfortably after work and with his laptop propped in his lap. You tried not to die just looking at him. Minho turned to you upon entry, raising an eyebrow. “Have fun?”

You hopped from foot to foot. “Y-You’re not…?”

“Mad? Why would I be?” Minho shoved his laptop off of his lap. He sat up, stretching nonchalantly before looking at you again. “You thought I’d be mad because you fucked Jisung? Very loudly, may I add?”

“W-Well, it was… this morning, it was-“

“Intimate? I’m aware,” He stood up, stalking towards you. “I think we should get one thing straight. I don’t care who you fuck. Hell, tick all my brothers off your list if it’s what makes you happy, but you better fucking remember that pussy belongs to me.”

“I-“

“Say it.”

“My p-pussy belongs to you, Minho,” You sigh, cheeks blazing, looking at him standing in front of you. He cocked his head to the side.

“Great, because I’m very aware that no one can ever make that pussy feel the way that I made it feel,” He returned to his sitting position on the bed, leaning back. “Fuck my frat brothers. I couldn’t care less. It’s me you’re coming home to at the end of the night - you did say you wanted to be my sex slave after all, right?” 

You nodded. “So, you really don’t mind?”

Minho shook his head, a cocky smile on his lips. “Like I said, babe. Tick them all off your list if you want to, but you better be sitting on my cock afterwards telling me all about it.”

Your jaw was officially dropped lower than it ever had been. Why did Minho have to be so fucking hot? You couldn’t cope. You couldn’t fucking breathe. You needed him biblically. Practically rushing towards him, you straddled his thighs easily and attached your lips to his in a desperate kiss. His hands went to your ass as if he’d been expecting it, because he probably had.

Tick them all of your list, though?

Now that sounded like fun.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

taglist: @moasworld @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @queenofthegardengnomes @boomfrogg @hoeinthehouse @msaddictions @sunnyhonie @hizliyuruyen @jyu037 @jouoy @drhsthl @seungincore @jellylver @veedoesntknaur @meloncremesoda @k-poplv @livieloo914 @fekixfmp @fawnpeaks @minnielvr @imastraykidsfan @hanjisung2023 @hoelynecujoh @kyrviu @sxgeofprohets @everydreams-penumbra @chaneomma @kkissreol @secretjj @phtogravi @princelingperfect @personawthai @dirah-h @straykids5star @luvhyux @chuuswifereal @stg110 @cookiesandmilfx @number1seungminstan @starsandrqindrops @poody1608

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

thinking about building lego with spencer reid —

implied fem!reader

just thinking about the idea of going to the lego store together, looking around and browsing the items on the shelves. spencer's eyes wouldn't be able to pull away from one lego set in particular, a lavish splurge he's contemplated for months - the typewriter. 

he'd be hesitant, mentally weighing the options with something cheaper - with something he didn't really want. but you'd notice, playfully nudging his side as if to encourage him, tempt him. giving him a soft, easing smile as you place the black box into his hands, telling him how he deserves a treat and that it would look great on his shelf. 

he'd ask you about what you wanted - what you came in for, but you'd already have it. orchid lego set slipped under your arm, an enthusiastic grin on your face.

back at home and dressed into something comfier, you'd have your purchases laid out on the dining table, small plastic bags torn open, correlating pieces spread across the surface. cups of tea and cookies and fresh fruit slotted between the free space of the table - making quick snacks and nibbles to keep you going.

you'd be sat opposite each other, sole focus on the instruction booklets in front of you as you build your sets. but every now and then, you'd take a moment to admire the progress made between you both, seeing each of your creations come to life. sweetly smiling at each other before continuing your projects in comfortable, homely silence. the only sounds being the clicking of the lego and soft commotion from outside.

self indulgent bc im rebuilding one of my lego sets rn tehe

[absurdthirst]

Vivid {Mando x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6.4k

Warnings: SEX POLLEN, dubious consent, fuck or die, oral sex (male and female receiving), 69, face sitting, blindfolds, sex in the dark, vaginal sex, rough sex, overstimulation, cream pie, cum eating, masturbation

Comments: A chance encounter in the canyon just beyond Din's little house on Nevarro leads to a sticky situation. A vivid pink flower, a powerful aphrodisiac, and a need to fuck has Mando bringing you home.

Co-written with @pedropascalsx

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Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

The changes around Nevarro are….nice. The little house that was deeded to Din is far enough away from town that he doesn’t feel crowded, yet it’s close enough that he can walk Grogu to the little school that he had enrolled him in. His journeys needed to include more socialization than bounty hunters, killer droids and Mandalorians. He needed to be able to move throughout many different cultures respectfully and what better place to learn than school?

Din’s own education happened in the Fighting Corps. Effective, but he had a mind to raise his adoptive son and apprentice better than his own teacher had. Especially since Grogu had an advantage that he had never wielded, the force. 

“No Grogu,” Din shakes his head and sighs softly as the fifty year old baby tries once again to float his little school pack off the shelf to where he is sitting. Wanting to go to school, even though it’s the weekend. “There is no school today.” 

****

It had been a long day so far, you’d run your usual errands and finished a few tasks around your home. A few of the children in your class had been requesting some more painting time during the week, and never one to dim anyone’s excitement for the arts, you couldn’t say no.

You like to make sure that art class is just as educational as it is fun, so you grabbed your book of plants and flowers and got ready to make your way out of town to collect and pick some plants and flowers for the kids to paint and learn to identify. 

The cool breeze was welcomed as you began your trip, a wicker basket hanging comfortably from the crook of your elbow as you made your way through the town, greeting everyone politely and with a warm smile as you did so. 

You like Nevarro. Especially as of recent, the town was much friendlier and a new sense of community had fallen across the planet. 

After a brief chat with one of your overexcited students and his parents you continued your walk while nibbling on some fresh fruit from a stall you had passed.

The kid is passed out in the little bed that Din had bought for him, the Mandalorian steps out of the house, striding off towards the canyon. He needs to tune his blaster, having replaced the plasma cartridge earlier. The domesticity is unusual, but he likes it, a set schedule and a home to make meals in. It’s oddly appealing, even though he does often wonder how the covert is doing on Mandalore.

After a nice breezy walk, your basket is almost full, you’ve picked multiple flowers and plants for the children to paint and learn about. The canyon is quiet, peaceful, the only sound coming from the soft breeze shaking the trees and the occasional twitter from the out of sight creatures. 

You’re just about to leave and make your way back home, before it catches your eye and steals your attention. A vivid shade of pink and standing alone. The petals are perfectly uniform and it’s the most perfect looking flower that you’ve ever seen.

Din sighs, seeing someone in the canyon ahead of him. There wouldn’t be any practice unless the person was just leaving. Making him huff under his helmet and hope that it wasn’t someone who is looking for trouble.

You kneel down in front of the flower, appreciating its beauty before reaching into your basket and pulling out your holopad. Unable to resist taking a few snaps of the gorgeous flower. 

Zooming in on the photo you notice a figure in the background that you immediately recognise as the father of Grogu - the new and unbelievably adorable little green foundling in your class. 

You place your holopad back in your basket, figuring he’ll want some space. He’s polite, not much of a talker but there’s something about him that’s… intense. The kind of intenseness that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand upright and makes that magic button downstairs pulse uncontrollably until it gets the attention it deserves. 

You gently snip the bottom of the stalk and gently scoop up the flower in your hands, inhaling its gorgeous and intoxicating scent and letting it flood your senses.

And then it hits you.

Walking closer, he recognizes that it’s Grogu’s teacher. You are a newcomer to Nevarro, at least, you hadn’t been here when it was a bounty hunter’s hive. One of the more gentle settlers, and it doesn’t hurt that besides him, you are Grogu’s favorite person. 

He smiles slightly under his helmet, wondering what you are doing out here in the canyon, although he spies the basket on your arm.

The effect is immediate, within seconds fire is coursing through your veins and pain meets a new type of pleasure in the most delicious way. 

Every nerve ending in your body is set alight, and the pleasure center in your brain is working overtime. Arousal floods your core, your nipples harden and your clit is pulsing with desperate need out of nowhere. 

You start to whimper as your legs threaten to fail beneath you, you’re still kneeling but you feel as though you’re about to collapse in a heap on the floor. The sounds that leave your mouth are nothing short of filthy, and you become more and more aware of your need for something to quench the flames that are burning stronger with every passing second.

Seeing you stumble, Din rushes forward. Hand on his blaster as he tilts his head up, searching for danger. Why else would a healthy woman nearly collapse? “Hey! Hey, get down!” 

“The flower,” you say with a breathy moan, “I think it’s the flower.”

He’s already reached your side, grabbing you and your basket and dragging you behind a craggy outcrop in the canyon, getting you to cover. Unaware of your moaned words,  they were too unintelligible. The pollen from the flower drifts under his helmet, not pressurized against contaminants and floods his nostrils in a heady rush.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” you babble, as you start to pull on the collar of your dress. The material feels much too constricting and far too warm despite the cool breeze.

“Dank ferik.” Din hisses, his own armor suddenly feeling as if it weighs more than the great forge on Mandalore. “It’s- it’s the pollen.” He croaks out, slapping the basket out of your hand, but he knows it’s too late.

“What’s w-wrong with the pollen?” You gasp out, unsure why your clothes feel heavy and your body is trembling uncontrollably. Your need to be touched now is desperate.

“It’s an aphrodisiac.” He grunts, cock already hardening and tenting the fabric of his flight suit. “It- it lasts for hours and-“ His eyes under his helmet widen as he remembers one particular trait of this toxic flower.

“And?” You ask frantically, “And what?”

“Your heart explodes if you don’t- uh, have sex.” His hand slaps against the rock wall of the canyon and he groans, thinking about an activity that he has long denied himself. He’s been too busy with the kid to seek out any companionship, even for a night.

“What?” You say with a pained laugh, “How is that -fuuuuck- how is that even possible?” The lace from your bra rubs painfully against your hardened peaks and you have to physically fight the urge to free yourself of your dress and bra.

He doesn’t fucking know, but the digital display in his helmet is broadcasting that fact as he looks down at the flower. “What the fuck were you doing with it?” He demands, trying to think about something other than pushing you against the rocks and burying himself in your cunt.

“I was just.. I’m picking flowers for the kids to paint,” you say between labored breaths, “Please, do something. It fucking hurts.” You start to beg, unsure what can be done.

He hadn’t anticipated that response. Groaning, he shakes his head. Knowing that a quick fuck in the canyon isn’t going to do it. Plus it’s too exposed out here. “Hold on to me.” He orders, stumbling next to you and wrapping his arm around your back before he kicks on his Rising Phoenix.

You squeal with shock as you’re shot upwards into the deep blue sky, your arms wrapping so tightly around The Mandalorian that it hurts.

Din’s groans are covered by the sounds of the jetpack and the wind. His cock is throbbing and leaking into the flight suit and he knows you have to be feeling worse. Your exposure was vastly greater than his own.

He senses the moment that the pain becomes too much for you to bear, his arms wrapping even tighter around you as you start to lose your grip. Pain shoots throughout your body as you whimper in his arms.

“We-it’s- it’s close.” He groans, his own body used to pain although he’s never experienced an arousal that might override all his senses like this before. All he can think about is stripping you down, burying himself in your body over and over until relief is finally achieved.

“I can’t hold on much longer,” you gasp, as the aching between your thighs grows stronger and more uncomfortable.

The outline of his small cabin appears and it can’t be a second sooner. His entire body is tense and his jetpack is nearly sputtering as it sets down on the ground in front of the remote dwelling. His star-fighter is parked off to the side and he is grateful that the baby is still asleep in his own little room.

His grip on you stays firm as you reach the ground, and he gently pulls you into his cabin. Spinning you around he presses you up against the door and gently palms your tit with his gloved hands.

“Tell me-“ Din groans and bites his lip under his helmet. “Dank ferik, tell me I can fuck you, Mesh’la.” He begs.

“You can fuck me,” you say with a moan as you press yourself up against him, desperate to feel him inside of you.

His head turns towards the door where Grogu is sleeping, relieved to find it still closed and he steps back to drag you away from the wall. “My room.” He demands, knowing the kid didn’t need to wake up and see anything.

“Yes, sir,” you say as you follow him on shaky legs into the room. Your clothes feel heavy against your skin, but you wait for his command to remove them. Standby patiently but writhing in discomfort as he walks towards you. “I need to take my dress off,” you say, as the material irritates your skin.

“Take it off.” He knows he will rip your dress if it touches it and he needs to get out of his armor. It’s chafing his skin and he’s overheating.

You immediately unzip the dress and let it fall to the floor, before working on your bra and panties. “Need you so badly,” you whine and you climb down onto the bed, and spread your legs. Dipping your fingers into your entrance and spreading some of your arousing through your folds and circling your clit.

“Dank ferik.” The armor clanks to the floor carelessly. Unable to treat it as reverently as he normally does. Fingers fumbling as his cock throbs, visor trained on your cunt.

“Hurry,” you beg, as you circle your clit faster, you’re soaked enough for him to slide right in with little resistance. “Am I allowed to touch you?” You ask as you continue working your clit, you know a little about Mandalorian creed but you’ve never fucked one before and want to make sure you’re respectful and you don’t cross any boundaries.

“I-I’m going to turn out the lights.” He groans, wanting to see you, touch you. And have you touching him. “And I need to blindfold you.”

“Whatever you need,” you say, as you turn your head so he can blindfold you. “I won’t touch you unless you explicitly tell me where it’s okay, and I promise the blindfold will stay on until you take it off.”

“You can touch me.” He is panting as he ties the blindfold and quickly strips out of the flightsuit and his boots. Even though he is burning, he hesitates when reaching for his helmet.

You reach out and let your fingers run across his chest, “Fuck,” you say, as your pussy clenches around nothing, “Want you to fuck me so badly, but I really wanna suck your cock first, Mando. I want to rub my little pussy while you fuck my throat.”

“No.” He chokes out, knowing that your body is screaming for release worse than his own is. It makes the decision easy and the click of the locks is accompanied by a slight hiss as he lifts the helmet off his head and it clatters to the ground.

“Oh,” you say, clearly disappointed but still rubbing your clit as fast as you can and chasing your release. “How do you want me?”

Din knocks your hand away and climbs up on the bed to pull you up and spin you around. A lifetime of training makes picking you up easy and he flips you onto your stomach on his chest. “Suck my cock and I’ll lick you.” He rasps out, his voice unmodulated and clear. “Never done it, but I want to. You need it.”

The sound of his voice is even sexier when unmodulated. Raspy and rough. Each word going straight to your pussy. “Yes, sir,” you say as you feel around and finally get his cock in your hand. It’s thick, veiny and dripping in pre-cum, the room is dark enough and the blindfold is opaque enough that you can’t see it but it feels glorious in your hands. You give him a teasing lick, lapping up all the pre-cum before taking the tip of him in your mouth.

Din groans, his gloveless hands reaching for your hips and his entire body shudders when he realizes that it’s full skin to skin contact. Dragging you back and immediately plunging his tongue inside your quivering and leaking cunt.

“Oh, fuck,” you choke out as you pull off his cock, loving the dexterous heat of his tongue. You take him back into your mouth and hollow your cheeks, your moans vibrating against his cock as he eats your pussy. For someone who said he’d never done this before he’s unbelievably skilled, eating you with such vigor that after a few minutes you can feel your orgasm rapidly approaching.

There have been a lot of holo vids around oral sex in his past, learning and aching to try the things that he saw. Although he’s not got a forked tongue like some species, nor one as long, he still grunts in pleasure as you moan loudly around his cock. Rocking your hips back to taste you more, getting deeper into your cunt.

“Gonna cum,” you croak out around him, before swirling your tongue around the tip of him and pulling away before cumming with a loud whimper of the only name you know for him, “Fuck, Mando!’

Din nearly whimpers at the loss of your mouth but the sweetness of your cum makes up for it. Soaking his face like he’s never experienced before. His cock throbs and he pulls away. “Close.” He chokes out, knowing he’s going to cum from this alone.

You take him back into your mouth and double down on your efforts, sucking him harder and licking your tongue around him. You take him as deep as you can, working the bottom of his shaft with your hands, saliva dripping everywhere as you work him towards his high. Needing to feel his cock twitch and start to flood your mouth with his cum.

It doesn't take him but a few more seconds when your mouth wraps back around him for Din to start to cum. Groaning out your name harshly, it's the only warning you get when he shoots a hot rope of cum down your throat, immediately followed by another.

You swallow around him, humming at the rich yet salty taste of him. Not letting a single drop go to waste, eagerly awaiting each burst as your mouth milks him dry. He’s delicious, salty and musky and you want more. You keep sucking until he orders you to stop and you slowly pull off of him with a groan.

Even though he's cum, his body still aches, his cock is still hard and he knows you aren't satisfied either. "My tongue or my cock in your cunt this time?" He pants out, needing to know where to bury his cock again.

“Your cock, please,” you beg as you lift off of him, “Do you want me to ride you, Sir?”

"For now." He knows you might need him desperately and he wants to see how much you are willing to grind on him for his cock.

His harsh tone makes your chest clench, but you push away that feeling and position yourself over him, slowly sinking down on this thick cock and moaning loudly as he stretches you open. His cock fills you entirely, your walls flutter and hug his cock as you get used to the delicious stinging from how stretched out you are from him. You start rocking your hips slowly, before increasing your pace, grinding down on him over and over. Desperate moans slipping through your plush lips as a wave of euphoria floods through you.

The darkness is just enough that he can see you move. A shadow and he wishes that he could turn the lights back on but he can't risk your blindfold coming loose. It's barely a loophole and technicality of the creed, but you can't see him. Not unless you were going to bind yourself to him.

“You feel so good,” you choke out, as you rock your hips a little faster. “So big. So thick.” You murmur again and again as your pace quickens, chasing a high and feeling a desperate need to have him cum hard and paint your walls with his delicious cum.

"Fuck." Din chokes out, puffing up at the praise. It's better than the moans with his cock in your mouth and he palms your tits, plucking at them and pinching your nipples while you bounce on his length.

“Tell me what you need,” you moan, “Fast or slow? Need you to feel good, baby, want to feel this cock fill me up.”

Din curses again. "Fuck, fast." He hisses, squeezing your tits harshly. "Fucking ride me hard."

You do as he commands, increasing your pace and bouncing up and down on him as fast as you can, moaning in pleasure as he hits that spot inside of you. Your hands cover his as he squeezes your tits, holding on tightly as he starts to fuck up into you, matching your pace with his own.

The loud sounds of sex fill his room. His hips snapping up as you bounce down on his cock. Both of you moaning and cursing greedily as the fire of the pollen rages in your systems. He knows you’re craven for his cum, the only thing that can soothe the effects of the flower.

You reach down and start to circle your clit, as you keep the same pace, wanting to clamp down around him and hear those delicious groans from him. “You’re incredible,” you pant as you near your high, circling your clit with perfect precision as he fucks up against nirvana inside of you. “Gonna cum,” you warn, before pleasure washes over you and squeeze his cock like a vice. Yelling his name as you cum, hard.

Letting go of your tits, he grabs your hips again and starts the hammer up into you. His hold on your body is the only thing keeping you from being thrown up into the air. Harsh punches of his cock that hit deep and wrench a cry out of you every time he hits your cervix, he can’t even care if it hurts you because you gush another wave of heat around him.

“Fuck,” you choke out, as he pushes the air from your lungs with every thrust. You’ve never been fucked like this before, but it’s addicting, you crave more and more from him with each harsh thrust of his hips. “Fill me up,” you beg, each word more strained as his pace quickly overwhelms you.

His arms wrap around you and he’s thrusting up into you like you are his personal fuck toy. “Fuck, fuck, gonna, fuck- fill you up.” He promises, grunting out a word every time he buries his cock into your spasming cunt. One harsh thrust later and a harsh bark of your name, he delivers on that promise. Cumming just as hard and as much as when he came down your throat only minutes before.

Falling forward onto him your face nuzzles into the crook of his neck, he’s still hard and twitching inside of you but a wave of exhaustion starts to make an appearance. You pant into his warm skin, arms tightly wrapped around him and you can’t ignore how tense he is. You’re unsure if you’ve crossed a line, but you need to catch your breath again before you’re able to move off of him and ask how he wants you next.

Din is tense from how close you are to his face. It’s been so long but you don’t reach up to touch it. Your arms around his shoulders and your face tucked into his neck. He rolls you onto your back and starts to rock into you again. Knowing that the night isn’t over by a long shot.

You moan as he rocks into you, his stamina clearly better than your own as you attempt to gather up some strength. But he seems content to pick up the slack as your pussy flutters around him and your walls hug him tight. “Are you allowed to kiss me?” You ask, barely above a whisper as his hips snap forward.

Din groans and he nods even though you can’t see him. “Can I?” He breathes above your lips. He’s never kissed before and right now as he fucking you both through a dangerous exposure to sex pollen seem to be a good time to experience it.

“Yes, please.” You plead softly, wanting to taste his lips despite not knowing what they look like. Not caring at all that you have no idea what he looks like.

Permission granted, he crushes his lips to your in a messy kiss. Much less coordinated than when he licked into you, he had avoided kissing holo vids because he had felt jealous.

You giggle a little at the way he smashes his lips against yours, before lightly touching his chin and taking the lead. Licking his bottom lip gently until he parts his lips enough for you to slip your tongue inside and press it against his own. It doesn’t take long until he’s mastering the art and taking control, his lips now refusing to part from yours as he rocks his hips into you. Kissing you just as hard as he fucks you, changing up the pace every now and then and swallowing your moans of delight.

Groaning into your mouth is like ambrosia. You are the best thing he’s ever tasted and he can’t get enough. His cock steadily fills you with strokes and his tongue mimics the motion into your mouth as he pants his pleasure loudly.

With a few more strokes of his cock, he has you clamping down around him and crying out the name you know him by in pleasure. The stuttering of his hips as your pussy acts like a vice around him makes him grunt your name before pulling you in for another breathtaking kiss. The effects of the pollen start to lessen but the effects of him growing stronger. Everything about him is consuming, his scent, the power he commands and with every snap of his hips and grunt of your name; you want more and more.

Din can barely rock his hips but the clenching and squeezing of your cunt pushes him over the edge. This time he is moaning your name into your mouth while pushing more cum into your pussy. Sliding down your cheeks and soaking his bed underneath you in growing puddle.

“Fuck, Mando,” you say against his lips, with a bright smile. “Picking that flower was the best decision I've made in months.” You love the way he twitches inside of you, your walls still hugging him tightly as he groans against your mouth. You gently run your hand up and down his back as he works on catching his breath.

“Din.” There are plenty of people who know his name now and he doesn’t see why you shouldn’t. Given that he had just fucked the life out of you and still had a few more rounds in him before the pollen is completely gone. “My name. It’s Din.”

“Din,” you repeat softly, “I like that. Din.” You press a light kiss to his lips before repeating his name a few more times. “Do you think I can jerk you off next? My pussy isn’t used to being fucked this good. Give her a little break before you fill her up again?”

“Do you want my mouth again?” He asks, knowing you might still need something. “I can just suck on your clit.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, “I know you said that was the first time you did it, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to do it again if you don’t want.”

“I liked it.” Din twitches inside you as he admits that and kisses you again. “Unless you didn’t like it?”

“I loved it,” you giggle, “Can’t believe that was the first time you’ve done it. Best oral I’ve ever had.” 

“Good.” He grunts happily. “Then I’ll do it again.” He pulls out of you and rolls onto his back.

“You want me to sit on your face and I can jerk you off as you eat my pussy, baby?”

“Fuck yes.” Din groans. “Want to taste your cunt filled with my cum.”

“Fuck,” you moan at his filth, “Yes, sir.” He helps you position over his face, and you hover a few inches above his mouth before reaching down and gripping his cock. Giving it a few languid strokes before finding a pace that has him groaning. “I bet you’ve got a gorgeous cock, Din, I can feel how good it is. But fuck. It’s so thick and long and those veins… I.. fuck. It’s so perfect.” You tell him before he pulls you down and starts to eat your pussy like a man starved. You work his cock like it’s the most important job in the work, each flick of your wrist designed to make him groan and grunt with pure pleasure. “Do you like that? Do you like me stroking your cock while it’s still dripping with my cum, Din?”

He huffs, nodding his head as he continues to lick and taste both of you combined. He’d love it if you sucked his cock again but your hand is good too. Tilting your hips up, he finds your clit and sucks it into his mouth.

“Fuck, Din,” you yell out as he sucks on your clit, “Maker- I could get used to this.” You squeeze his cock a little harder, changing the pace from fast to slow. Wiping your thumb across the tip and gathering up the pre-cum to taste on your fingers. He groans as you let him, bringing your fingers up to mouth and licking them clean before gripping his cock again. “Going to suck your cock again after this, you taste so good, baby.”

Din groans and sucks on your clit harder, pushing his tongue against it and releasing it to lick it and suck it back into his mouth to start the entire process over again. He could get used to this too. Eating your pussy every night and having you on his cock.

“Diiiiiiinnnnnn,” you moan, over and over as he works magic on your clit. You stroke his cock over and over as his hips stutter, “Gonna c-cum.”

He pulls away just to gasp out, “me too.” Before he’s reattaching his lips to your clit like a hungry sucker fish.

“Din, Din, Din,” you chant his name over and over like a sacred prayer, pumping his cock until he’s spurting out thick ropes of cum, cum that you’ve desperate to scoop up and lick from your fingers. You feel your pussy clench down around nothing as your orgasm pulses through you, soaking his face with your arousal as he continues his delicious assault on your bundle of nerves.

You stopped stroking his cock, too focused on your own pleasure but you squeeze him. Making him pulse as his balls draw up against his body again.

“Din,” you pant one last time, as he grunts beneath you. You feel his cock twitching in your hands, clearly desperate for more release, and you resume your strokes. Milking him free of his pleasure and loving the way it pants your skin. Your fingers, wrists and arms are covered in his cum. All of it begging to be licked clean.

Letting go of your clit, Din groans your name as you stroke his cock and milk it of every drop of his release.

The second he stops cumming, you gently let it go and start cleaning it from your skin. Moaning at the taste and humming in content as you swallow it all down. “You taste delicious, Din.”

His cock is still hard but he’s not desperate to be inside you. The fire in his veins nearly burned away and it will only take once more before it’s all done. “You taste good, Mesh’la.” He praises roughly. “Could taste you everyday and be a happy man.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you say with a giggle. “It’s wearing off, I think, it doesn’t burn as badly but I think I can go again. You wanna fuck my mouth or my pussy this time, baby?”

“Is your pussy too sore?” He asks, knowing he’s been rough with it.

“I can take you again, I’m definitely going to be feeling you for a while, but I'm not complaining.”

“Why don’t you ride me then?” He asks, stroking your hip. “You can kiss me this time.”

“Perfect,” you say, wasting no time and getting into position and sinking down on him again. You press your lips against his and start to rock your hips, the ache between your legs getting drowned out with pleasure as he matches your pace.

"Shit, shit, fuck,  you are so tight?" Din groans in surprise. "How are you still so tight? We've been fucking for hours." He doesn't stop touching you, anywhere and everywhere he can while you ride him, stroking your back, your hips, sweeping his hands up to your breasts. Greedy for that skin to skin contact now that he's not quite as focused on cumming. "Kiss me, mesh'la." He begs.

You immediately press your lips to his, and moan into his mouth. His hands feel perfect on you, they explore your body with ease as you rock up and down, chasing relief once more around his cock.

This time is less frantic. It’s slower and almost more intimate. It’s almost like you are making love.

“Need you to cum,” you murmur against his lips, exhaustion taking its toll on your fucked out body, as you rock your hips slowly. His thumb pressed up against your clit as you chase some friction

“I will.” He promises. “After you, Mesh’la.”

You move your hips just a little faster, still keeping the pace slow and intimate. His thumb circles your clit perfectly as you grind down on him, cunning with a soft moan of his name, clamping down around him and relishing the groans of pleasure he fills your ear with. “Cum for me, Din,” you plead, as you can come back down.

Now that he feels your entire body melt, he knows the pollen has worked completely out of your system. “Good girl.” He grunts, rocking his hips as he wraps his arms around you. “I’m gonna fill you up again.”

“Please,” you beg, needing to feel his release. “Please, Din.”

He doesn't rush, knowing that you have to be exhausted at this point. Only his ability to go beyond his limits allows him to keep rocking his hips up. As soon as he cums, he knows he will pass out to sleep for a good while. You are almost asleep as he fucks you.

You sink your face into the crook of his neck, unsure how you’re going to find the strength to pull yourself out of bed and make your way home. Rocking your hips more and more, his release clearly moments away, you ride him harder, determined to give him every bit of his pleasure.

"Fuck." He groans and thrusts up one more time to bury himself deep. Throbbing again and feeling your walls grip him tight when he starts to spill inside of you again. Groaning your name quietly as he fills you. Feeling the heat and need of the pollen falling away with the last pulse of his orgasm. 

“Din,” you murmured into his skin, “Tha-thank you.” Exhaustion rumbles in your joints, everything aches, but everything feels worth it when you’re wrapped up in his arms.

"Sleep, mesh'la." He hums, his hand sliding up and down your back gently. He's still inside you and doesn't want to pull out right now. He wants to sleep inside you. "I know you are exhausted."

You hum happily into the crook of his neck, letting him move you slightly and wrapping his arms around you. “Goodnight, Din.” 

Sleep comes easier than it has in months, safely pulling you into slumber as he gently rubs your back and holds you tight to him.

Sometime during the night, Din wakes up. opening his eyes and letting his vision adapt to the darkness. He's softened and is barely inside you but it was probably the most relaxed and the best sleep that he's ever had. Possibly in his entire life. Reaching up, Din gently unties the blindfold that is still firmly over your eyes. He's decided that he wants you to see him. Or have the choice if you wanted him to turn on the lights. Now he just holds you, waiting for you to wake up.

Waking up, you hum contentedly in his arms, nuzzling your nose into his warm skin. The fact he’d removed your blindfold not fully registered yet as you wish him a ‘good morning.’ It’s only as you pull back and the light hits your eyelids that you realize the blindfold is off. “Din,” you say quietly, “Is it ok to open my eyes?”

"Opening your eyes comes with consequences, mesh'la." He admits quietly. "I am not allowed to let anyone see my face. Or I become darmanda." He explains. "I would no longer be Mandalorian."

“What do you want me to do?” You ask, before pressing your lips against his, “Tell me.”

"There is a way that you can see me and I am still Mandalorian." He tells you, slightly nervous about what you would think. It's crazy, but he couldn't stop thinking about it when he woke up. 

“Tell me,” you repeat, “If you want to.”

"If you are my riduur....you can see my face without any consequences."

“Riduur?” You repeat slowly, “What is that?”

“Spouse.” He whispers the Basic word and waits for your reaction.

“Oh,” you say quietly, before bringing your hands up to his chin and gripping it gently. “Riduur,” you repeat, loving the way it sounds, “You could see me as yours one day?”

“You would be mine then.” He tells you. “If you want.”

“I want to be yours,” you say against his lips.

“Then open your eyes, Mesh’la.” He murmurs softly. “You can look at me before we say our vows.”

You kiss him first, pressing your lips firmly against his before pulling back and slowly opening your eyes. Staring deeply into his brown eyes and feeling a smile spread across your face as you take in his features. “Gorgeous,” you say quietly, before letting your fingertips gently run across his face.

His eyes softly and his lips part when your fingers drag across them. He’s been touched by Grogu but this is different. “Pleasant enough? Or should I put my helmet back on?” He jokes self-consciously.

“You’re perfect,” you say honestly, “I can’t believe you’d want me. You’re gorgeous.”

“You are mesh’la, it is Mando’a for beautiful.” He hums, smiling up at you.

“Mesh’la,” you repeat, “You are mesh’la, Din.”

Biting his lip, he says, “repeat after me. Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.”

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde,” you say as clearly as you can, eyes still focused on his as you do so.

Din grins. “It is our vows.” He explains. “It means - We are one when together, we are one when parted, we share all, we will raise warriors."

“We are one.” Taking his hand you bring it to your lips and place a small kiss on it. “Yesterday took an unexpected turn… But I’m so glad I picked that flower.”

He snorts and shakes his head. “Good thing I wasn’t secretly a Gungan under my helmet.” He teases.

You giggle back at him before pulling him in for another kiss, “I don’t think I’m going to be able to walk normally for the next few days, you realize that right?”

“That’s to be expected.” Din flashes you a dirty grin. “Make sure you tell them that when we go to Mandalore.”

“So every time you fuck me, I’m going to be feeling it for days?” You ask with a raised eyebrow.

“Not every time, but when you’re fucking to stay alive, I’ll make sure you feel it.” He chuckles, wrapping his arms around you and grinning up at you. “You can pick those flowers anytime you want….riduur.”

“I might just have to do that,” you giggle, “Thank you for saving my life, Din.”

“I think I’ve gotten a pretty good reward.” Din hums. He had settled here for Grogu and it was a nice little place, maybe a little lonely since he’s not so busy, but now he has a feeling he will never be lonely again. Not with you by his side.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Yandere Coworker (part 14)

Thank you @i---believe---in---pink for commissioning this chapter.

(2945 words)

tw: afab reader, infantilization, butchered Spanish,

Masterlists (+commission info), part 1, part 15

You're in Cyprus's car, munching on one of the many treats he bought you from the farmers market. It distracted you from how Cyprus would sensually knead your thigh as he drove.

The car is full of fresh vegetables and fruits that he bought, so he could make tastier meals for you and him. In his styrofoam cooler, rest slabs of butchered meat and numerous ice packs to keep them from spoiling, as the ride home is quite far.

He was talking about an anecdote, in an attempt to prompt you to open up to him. But his tactic has been failing for the past half hour, all you did was nod and eat.

Cyprus pursed his lips as he glanced at you from the corners of his eyes. You have exhausted his conversational topics and he has a whole arsenal of them. You're driving him insane! What does it take for you to talk to him about yourself? He failed to consider that you may not have a lot to say in the first place because he truly believed that you are complex and more than your internet addiction. He wants to know your thoughts, more about your likes and dislikes, your beliefs, family, friends... anything!

Then, he had an idea.

"We're not going home just yet."

You looked at him and asked what he meant by that. He merely smirked and stayed silent.

-

Cyprus didn't drive back to his apartment or yours like you expected. You knew it was close to his home, since you and he passed by this place to get there.

He pulled up to a dilapidated building, no doubt another apartment complex but older and dingier. The wall paint was chipping off, and windows were shrouded with overgrown trees and moss. Cars were haphazardly parked around the complex without regulation or visible parking lines.

He pulled on his handbrake and switched his engine off. You're still staring out the window, wondering where he took you.

"Baby." You turned around, to have him cup your cheek and gently pull your lower eyelid down with a thumb. You initially struggled against him but relaxed when you realized he meant no harm and wouldn't let go until he got what he wanted. Which was to examine your eyes.

He hummed, staring intensely at you. Making you blush at how attractive he appears to you now, you would be caught dead before admitting that to him. But you didn't have to, he knows what you're thinking and is fully aware of how he presents himself.

Cyprus checked the time on his wristwatch. He finally lets go of you and reaches for his center console, where he has tucked your medicated eyedrops away.

You complained, telling him that you could apply your own antibiotics. He merely clicked his tongue in annoyance and rolled his eyes as he uncapped the bottle. "Look up."

You didn't have to do anything, Cyprus was the one who tilted your head upwards while pulling a lower eyelid down. Sighing, you let him administer the drops in your eyes. It felt humiliating, yet secretly, you felt somewhat comforted to know someone was out there remembering these little details of you. If it wasn't for him, the thought of your medication would have completely slipped your mind.

You blinked hard, letting the liquid sting your eyes momentarily. You could hear the rustling of the pharmacy's paper bag as he kept your medicine away. He had also pulled a sheet out of his tissue box. "Stop that!" Cyprus hissed, pulling your hands away from your face as you instinctually went on to rub your eyes.

You grumbled, letting Cyprus coddle you; gently wiping the excess drops using the tissue and carefully picking the crust out from the corners of your eyes. You remained still for the entirety of this, allowing Cyprus to do whatever he pleases. Luckily, he's acting with the best intentions in mind.

"There, done." He crumpled the sheet of tissue and shoved it into his pocket to dispose of it later. Cyprus then kissed you on the forehead. "Good girl." Whispered praises and chuckling.

You didn't respond, but instead stormed out of his car and slammed the door shut behind you. Cyprus got out shortly after, he took out the styrofoam cooler from his trunk and a couple bags of fresh vegetables before locking his car using his key fob.

"Come on, let's meet tu suegra." He gestured for you to follow him to a dim stairwell, where the only source of lighting was the outdoors. Cyprus started ascending the steps with the bags in hand.

The cogs started turning in your head, you may or may not understand what he just said, but all hints are suggesting that you're now at his mother's place. You also noted how his American accent suddenly changed into a completely different one when saying those two words. However, looking back, he tends to roll his "R"s.

You tailed behind Cyprus, climbing the bare, concrete stairs with suspect hand railings. It's dusty and cobweb-ridden, but at least it's functional.

You and he eventually reached an open-air corridor, grateful for the sunlight shining the path for you.

"Here." He handed you a bag and knocked on the door. It seems like the plaque fell off, you could see the screw holes, but you have no idea what number unit this is. The other doors don't seem kind enough to give you hints either.

You held the bag of vegetables in your arms as you watched Cyprus knock again, trying to get the attention of whoever was residing behind it.

Silence blanketed over him as you were made to wait for any further developments. You opened your mouth to say something, but your ear perked up at the sound of the door unlatching and unlocking. An unpleasant creak of the hinges, and then a surprised gasp reached your ears.

"Mi-" The voice, aged and feminine, stopped midway. You peered over the bag to see a woman in her fifties, her grey roots are showing as it seems she hasn't refreshed her black dye in a while. Like Cyprus, she too, wore glasses and had the same beautiful set of grey eyes. Her eyebrows were thin, charmingly drawn on and her lips were in a deep shade of red, but they were pulled downwards into a frown as she eyed you cautiously. Even taking a few steps back into her room, hiding behind the door.

"Mamá, tranquila." There was a sense of urgency in his voice as if he was trying to prevent a catastrophe from happening. But immediately after, he purred at you. "Ella es muy dulce." He gave you a sweet peck on the crown of your head. Cyprus rested an arm around your waist and brought you closer to his side.

Upon seeing her son's calmness and hearing his assurance, you saw the tension on her shoulders leave. But she's not convinced enough to fully come out of her hiding place. She stared at you unblinkingly, observing what you might do next. At this point, you felt embarrassed, feeling like a filthy, feral stray under her intense gaze.

You gave her an awkward, crooked smile and wave. Unsure if she could understand you if you spoke English. You also had half a mind to act insane, scaring his mother off so she would disprove your forced relationship with him. You assumed that the bag that Cyprus gave you earlier was meant to be for his mother, so you presented it to her. Which made her look amused with her focus darting between her son and you.

"Say 'Buenos Tardes, señora.'" You felt his breath on your ear as he whispered.

You did just that, butchering the pronunciation a bit but it's not too bad. Just enough for his mother to understand and be impressed by. You wonder if her standards for her son's partners are as low as Cyprus's.

"Buenos Tardes, Buenos Tardes. ¿Es eso para mí?" She gestured towards the bag in your extended arms.

"Sí, mama. Es un regalo por tú, Mi vida quería dar una buena primera impresión." He spoke up for you, affectionately stroking your hair as she took the bag off your hands. "Ella no sabía qué regalarte. Entonces sugerí comprar algunas verduras."

"¿Mi vida?" She appeared astonished at the apparent pet name he used for you. "Eso es nuevo. Ella debe ser muy especial para ti."

He laughed and nodded. "Sí, claro." Cyprus put the cooler down and went on to hug his mother as a delayed greeting. It was brief, they let each other go and brought their attention back to you.

Feeling the peer pressure crushing your bones, you mirrored what they did and hesitantly went in for an awkward hug. But it seems like she has warmed up to the idea of you, her arms wrapped around you comfortably.

"Entre, por favor." She stepped aside and opened her door wider. You assume that she's telling you and Cyprus to come in. You were about to step foot into her residence, but your boyfriend grabbed you by the arm before you could get any further.

"Take your shoes off, baby." He instructed as he took his own shoes off. You look at his mother and see that she's barefoot, there is a shoe rack inside that holds a few pairs of shoes and you assume that is where you're meant to put yours. So, you removed your footwear like how Cyprus told you to and it earned a nod of approval from his mother.

He picked your shoes up for you and coaxed you inside. You were about to whine that you could have done that yourself, but it's probably not worth the trouble. The quicker you finish this, the quicker you can leave.

You took a look around at her humble abode. It's not as bad as the outside, quite homely with the oddly luxurious items making their appearance here and there. But it is to be expected, as you remember how Cyprus described his mother as someone who prioritized looking expensive over her children's welfare. You were eyeing the leather massage chair in front of the flatscreen TV, wishing that you owned one.

"Good girl." He praised, kissing you on the temple. Cyprus then went on to put the two pairs of shoes on the rack. His mother is in the process of unloading the styrofoam cooler, bringing the meats to the kitchenette nearby; putting them away in the fridge.

"¿Quieres algo de tomar? ¿Té? ¿Cafe?" She asked, directing her gaze mainly to you.

"Una taza de té por ella, Mama. Ella no podrá dormir esta noche si toma café ahora." He took off his leather jacket and hung it on a coat stand nearby. The woman cocked her eyebrows at how much her son cared for you, it's something new and refreshing. She nodded and prepared three mugs on the counter.

You wish that you could have a say in your choice of drinks.

"¿Y tú, Mijo?" She filled the electric kettle up with tap water.

"No hay necesidad. Compartiré una taza con ella." He ended the line of conversation and turned towards you, cupping the sides of your face in his large, warm hands.

"You're doing so well." He crooned, gently squeezing your cheeks affectionately. "My mom likes you..." Cyprus nuzzled his nose against yours, feeling the cold frame of his glasses brush against your skin. "You make me so fucking happy, princess."

You tried to push him away, telling him that his mother was right there.

"Okay, and?" Your eyes quickly dart in her direction, seeing that she's still busy preparing two cups of tea.

You said that it's embarrassing and probably disrespectful to his mother. No one wants to see their son getting all sappy with someone else!

"She's fine." He brushed you off and pulled you into a hug, swaying you side to side. You felt judged when his mother glanced at you and a smirk, a damn smirk so reminiscent of her son's, began curling at the corners of her lips. So you firmly pushed him away, that did the trick but it was as if you gave him a soft nudge.

She brought the two mugs to the dining table, Cyprus lead you to the chairs and sat down on one of it. However, before you could park yourself onto a chair, Cyprus pulled you into his lap and kept you imprisoned there. His arms tangling around your form tightly, making it impossible to escape his hold without making a scene. So you let out a resigned sigh and sunk into him.

"Cuidado, hace calor." Said his mother as she picked her own cup up, blew on it, and allowed the steam to waft around her face. She used the metal spoon to mix the milk and sugar in the beverage.

"Lo sé, mamá." He picked the other cup up and blew on it. You were wondering if she had forgotten to make you a cup, or if Cyprus told her not to for some reason. It's such a shame, you were looking forward to it-

"Say aah." You were presented with a spoonful of cooled tea. And immediately, your face turned red as a tomato. Really? This level of humiliation in front of his own mother? You opened your mouth to say something unsavory, but Cyprus took the chance to feed you the drink.

It was delicious, no doubt. Enough to shut you up and seek more, but the cup was occupied by Cyprus; he was taking a sip out of it and probably burning his tongue with how hot the tea was.

This whole performance earned some laughter from his mother. You tried your best to hide your face from her, but in the end, Cyprus handed you the entire cup to drink. It's at an appropriate temperature for you to drink.

"Que niña tan Consentido, ¿Te gusta mimarla, Mijo?" You heard clinks coming from her spoon hitting the ceramic walls of her cup as she stirred.

"Sí. Muchisimo." Cyprus watched you with adoration as you drank sipped on the beverage.

Eventually, the mother-son duo started chatting in Spanish. You don't know if they're talking about you, or just catching up. You think it's most likely the latter because you've been with Cyprus 24/7 for a few months now. He has not visited his mother once, this is the first time in a while, you assume.

You're not stupid, though. There was a good chunk of the conversation where it's just talking about you, based on the glances she would give you and the mention of your name, and what you assume are Spanish pet names.

Either way, you felt ashamed. You felt inferior and belittled. You wish you could just go home and hide under the covers. But your home isn't even your home anymore, it's Cyprus's.

You decided to look around once more and drink in your surroundings, noting the lack of picture frames or any indication that his mother has children or a husband. There is a distinct detergent smell, nothing like you've ever smelt before and it's lovely. Cyprus washes his clothes with something similar, but the aroma isn't identical.

Cyprus picked the cup up and took a sip for himself. His eyes were trained on your bored face.

"Doll." He caught your attention and his mother's. Cyprus brought a thumb to your lower eyelid and tenderly tugged it down to check on your pink eye.

His mother seemingly asked him about what he was doing, to which Cyprus explained to her your situation. He then brought his attention back to you.

"Do you want to head home?" He asked.

You were about to say yes, but his mother's innocently wide eyes stared at you with a tinge of sadness.

"My mom is really enjoying having you here." He explained what that look potentially meant. "But if you're tired, we're going home. We can visit her another time."

She's enjoying you here? She's barely talking to you! And that language barrier is not making it any easier. You think that his mother is sad that her son is leaving so soon.

You told him that you could head back home by yourself, you know the way back and he should spend more time with his mother while he still can. Cyprus narrowed his eyes at you. "No way in hell am I letting you go alone."

You said you're fine. It's just a few blocks away.

"We're leaving." He lifted you off his lap. "Gracias por el té, mamá." Cyprus rose up to his full height, towering over you and his mother.

"I have extra pillows and blankets if you want to take a nap." You whipped your head towards the woman at lightspeeds, she could speak English fluently all this time?!

You looked back at Cyprus, he was crossing his arms over his chest and waiting for your response. He isn't shocked, annoyed, or amazed at this sudden switch, he's simply indifferent.

You turned back to his mother and asked why she didn't speak English from the beginning.

"I'll tell you if you stay for dinner." She smiled, speaking in a moderately heavy accent. Now you know where Cyprus gets his blackmailing traits from.

You looked back at Cyprus. He merely shrugged.

"Your call, Mi cielo." You asked him what that term meant.

"I'll also tell you that if you stay for dinner." Beamed his mother.

Cyprus smirked and chuckled, but didn't say anything else.

[angelcent]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐏𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇 ❤︎₊ ⊹ S. GOJO

repost from a song matchup on my old account. for @fangirlings-world <3 hope you don't mind! contains. wedding night, husband!gojo, fluff

lıllılı.ıllı.ılılıı — photograph / ed sheeran

through the viewfinder of the polaroid camera, you focused on the sight of your husband, still in his suit from the reception, laying on the plush king sized hotel bed. two bottles are beside him, cider and champagne. your lips curl up in a soft, honeyed smile as your index finger presses down.

click!

"eh? how's that? handsome, right?" satoru grins when the photo reveals itself. it's boyish, reminding you of the first day you met him. back when you swore you'd never want to see him again. he's chewing on the complimentary chocolate covered strawberries. "told ya i could be a model, babe."

satoru shifts then, leaning back on an elbow while he playfully attempts to seductivley pop another strawberry into his mouth. you laugh and snap another photo, not missing the opportunity to capture the moment. satoru doesn't expect this though, making a 'whuh' noise low in his throat, narrowly avoiding choking on the fruit.

as he's having a dramatic coughing fit beside you, the polaroid fades from stark white to a kaleidoscope of colors, revealing satoru at his most raw—endearingly lame. the sight melts your heart, and you can't help but fall in love a little more.

satoru snatches the camera as you're busy cooing over the photo, aiming the lens towards a profile of you to catch you off guard—hair a little out of place and in your hotel bathrobe, fresh from your post-wedding shower. the day came and went, flying by in a rush of people and commands and timings and music and perfection. there was still a ringing in your ears, your blood still buzzing and limbs heavy with exhaustion. you've done enough mingling and socializing for the rest of the year.

now, it's just you and satoru; the man you've promised your entire life to. the one who holds your heart in his hands. and—a photo of you!

"look at that. my wife," satoru murmurs, testing the word on his tongue. wife. his wife. he’s a married man. "i should keep this in my wallet, huh? a picture of my pretty wife."

you frown, fighting the heat that rises on your cheeks. pretty? you're all bare and visibly exhausted from today. sleep-deprived. "w-wait, toru—no! take another one! let me go fix myself up and—"

"nuh uh," satoru clicks his tongue, holding up the polaroid between two fingers. "i like this one. when i look at this five, ten, twenty years from now—!, i'll remember this exact moment." when you settle back on your knees, he continues. "the lighting right now, that airplane that just went by, the smell of your shampoo, how tired your eyes look, the sock we found under the pillow—all of it."

and satoru looks exhausted as well—broad shoulders sagging just slightly, hair out of the slicked back style he wore today, morning star eyes fighting sleep. you stay quiet for a few moments, just taking in your husband and knowing that you really will remember this moment decades from now. lifetimes.

in every universe you’ll remember your husband on your wedding night.

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Something short and sweet for Sanji's birthday because I love him

Bewildered, Beloved

Sanji x GN!Reader

1.2k words

Spending a majority of his life at a restaurant instilled a strict sleeping schedule into Sanji. It didn’t take long for him to learn to wake on his own without any kind of alarm, and that habit translated perfectly over to his new life as a Straw Hat.

This morning was no different. Sanji awoke at his usual hour, blinking sleepily a few times as his mind caught up with his body. His first instinct is to roll onto his side and bring the love of his life into his arms for a tragically brief morning cuddle session. If he could lay there and hold you for hours each morning, he would. Alas, he had a duty to fulfill as the ship’s cook, so he could only indulge himself for a few minutes.

His arms reach out to drag you to him, only to feel nothing but bedsheets. He pats around your side of the bed, believing he must have just missed your form. Not only were you absent, but the sheets were cold. You’ve been gone for a while. Instantly, he’s wide awake and sits straight up. 

“My love?” He calls out to an empty room. There isn’t a single sign of you, nor a hint as to where you had gone. Not one to sit around and wait, Sanji vaults himself out of bed and hurries to the door. He knows that you are more than likely perfectly fine, but that thought does nothing to quell the worry gnawing at him. He needed to physically see you safe and sound.

He grabbed the door knob, ready to search for you, only for something unexpected to happen. The knob came off. Sanji froze and stared at it in his hand. He tried to shove it back into the door, but all it did was click uselessly in the hole it was supposed to fit into. Stooping down to look closer revealed why it wouldn’t catch. The screws were missing.

This was officially getting weird. Downright bizarre, even.

Desperate for any kind of answer, he drops down and peers through the keyhole. All that got him was a whole lot of nothing. There wasn’t anything unusual about the hallway, and no one was in sight. Sanji stood up and ran a hand through his still messy hair. He didn’t want to kick a door down on the Sunny, but he’s not sure what other option he has at this point.

Heaving a sigh, he snatches his pack of cigarettes off the side table and lights one up. Taking a drag from it did nothing to soothe his mounting anxieties and confusion. He can already hear Franky bemoaning him kicking a door down, but he isn’t about to just sit here when something strange is going on. 

Sanji knows his strength well, he should be able to kick it just hard enough to be able to get out, but not so hard that he sends it flying off its hinges. Taking a deep breath, he rears back, ready to bust it open. Then he hears footsteps. 

A sigh of relief escapes him and he’s quick to knock on the door and call out to his would be savior, “Hey, the door knob fell off and I can’t get out.”

The footsteps come to an abrupt halt. “Sanji? You’re supposed to still be in bed!”

He would recognize his angel’s voice anywhere. The elation he feels from being graced with your voice is quickly replaced with confusion. “What do you mean? I’m supposed to be making breakfast for the crew right now.” He would have to settle for only a brief hug from you this morning instead of his preferred cuddle session, much to his complete and utter heartbreak. 

“Not today. Just… Please get back into bed, Sanji,” your tone was pleading and it hit him straight in the heart. As much as he needs to get to the kitchen, he’s a slave to your words and obeys with only mild hesitation. The door knob is dropped onto the side table as he sits on the edge of the bed, waiting to see what this is all about. 

After a pause, the door is opened from the other side, and you slide in back first. When you turn to face him, he sees you carrying a tray of food. The sweet scents of maple syrup and fresh fruit fill the room, along with the sharp tang of coffee. 

Words escape him as he gawks at the food and then your beaming face. You look extremely proud of yourself as you set the tray on the bed. You kiss his cheek and bring him into a hug, “I made you breakfast in bed today!”

You proceed to ramble about how you weren’t sure your plan was going to work, but were happy it did. As much as Sanji had a tendency to hang onto your every word and listen to it like gospel, all he could do was stare at the breakfast you’d made him. A big stack of french toast was piled onto a plate and decorated with whipped cream and powdered sugar, with a hefty drizzle of syrup over it. Some fresh cut fruit accompanied it, along with a cup of coffee and your favorite morning beverage.

His throat feels like it’s in a vice when he speaks, “You made this for me?”

You stop talking and pull back just enough to be able to look him in the eyes. You’re still visibly elated, but there’s a calmer, warmer glow to it now. “I did. I wanted to treat you to a meal for once, so I really hope this all came out right and you like it. Oh, and don’t worry about making breakfast for the rest of the crew. I got Nami and Usopp to help out and take care of that today.”

Sanji was still in a state of shock as you gently guided him further onto the bed and climbed in next to him. You cut a piece off of the french toast stack and bring it to his mouth with an eager and expectant look on your face. He opened his mouth to take the graciously offered bite and savored it. You could have messed up at every single step, and he’s sure it would still taste like heaven because it was touched by your lovely hands.

That being said, the french toast was genuinely delicious. You must have practiced this countless times to have executed it so perfectly. Finally, he snaps out of his surprise and plasters a smile on his face, lest he makes you believe he didn’t love every bit of that.

He can’t contain his affection for you any longer. His arm snakes around your waist and he brings you in to press gentle kisses to your face. “Thank you, dear. I don’t know what I did to deserve such a gift this morning, but I want to know so I can do it again.”

Your face twists in surprise, then relaxes as you let out a small chuckle, “Well, you didn’t really do anything, but it’s something that happens once a year.” You press a quick kiss to his lips, then whisper, “Happy birthday, Sanji.”

[boop-le-snoot]

kinktober #5

Brown Sugar

kinktober day five | exhibitionism | 18+, Thor is showing off his midgardian girlfriend at a ritualistic orgy. asgard, amirite? | word count 2.5k | click here for more kinktober |

“We must?” You gave your boyfriend a cheeky grin.

“Mhm,” he nodded decisively, although his stormy blue eyes were sparkling with mischief. “'tis would be a good omen.”

“God of Fertility and all that?” You snorted, bringing up one of Thor's lesser known titles.

Well, lesser known on your home planet of Midgard. Here in Asgard, everybody was well-acquainted with the numerous titles and duties appointed to their crown prince. And while the ruling had effectively been transferred to Brunhilde, the House of Odin was still very active in the life and courts of the realm.

Which you had to partake in, as well, being Thor's long-term girlfriend. Some customs were pretty normal (smile and wave, smile and wave...), some a little strange and some had you completely understand why Jane, Thor's ex-girlfriend, had ultimately decided to balk on him. Asgard certainly wasn't for the shy and self-conscious.

For you, that ship had sailed and sunk a long time ago. How could you be anything else than smug with a God hanging off your arm? Passing on an opportunity to show him off was like a dog turning down a bone. And - you bit into a delectable fruit with a name you could not even hope to pronounce correctly - what kind of person would you be if you deprived Asgard of the blessings Thor was obliged to bestow upon his realm?

They way you saw it, it was a win/win scenario for everybody. As you submerged yourself in a hot bath swirling with aromatic oils, your heart raced with excitement and trepidation. Deep in the pit of your belly, a coil was beginning to tighten, further filling your limbs with a pleasant, weightless sensation. Floating in the spacious pool, your eyes traced the hard lines of your boyfriend's body with lazy interest.

Pre-gaming an orgy with your godly boyfriend had been the right choice.

Droplets of clear water ran down Thor's pronounced pectorals to soundlessly drip into the pool. You followed each one where it sent ripples across the shimmering surface of water, distorting the generous vision of his twitching heavy cock. He shrugged moisture off his blonde hair. You smirked.

“I fear we may not make it if you continue looking at me like that.” He rumbled, coyly watching your reaction through wet eyelashes.

“I am getting in the mood!” Objected you, but nonetheless ceased your staring to take care of yourself. You fully intended to leave a lasting impression on the people of Asgard and looking fresh and smelling nice was just the first step. Even if Thor's continued, very naked presence proved to be very distracting...

No less distracting was the cacophony of pleasure and bliss that reached your ears as soon as you entered the designated area for the ceremony. Clad in the finest silks and gemstones Thor had gifted you for the occasion, you held your chin up high even as your eyes lingered on couples, throuples and moresomes scattered across a multitude of surfaces.

Warriors and nobles, gods and regular folk, all lost in the haze. White-clad women danced with flowers in their hair, chanting something sweet and melodic in tongues All-Speak could not translate. The same fragrant blossoms hung in long, colourful garlands from the ceiling as fading sunlight reflected a fine golden dust that saturated the air in the room.

You passed Fandral surrounded by no less than five men and women. Thor had snorted and you responded with a smirk, knowing well of his friend's penchant for amorous conquests. Volstagg was here with his wife and he looked to be having a great time observing a slender Valkyrie busy herself with his wife's bosom as he snacked on some berries and nuts.

Posted at Thor's arm, the other attendees limited themselves to quick, respectful once-overs when it came to you. A human, an exotic curiosity for many, but strictly off-limits. You were more than content to be just Thor's.

The God led you to an elevated platform on which lay a bed of the fragrant blossoms; sitting down gently at the edge, you could not resist touching the soft, shimmering petals. They were surprisingly warm and springy, returning quickly to their undisturbed state as your hand came back tinted with gold. The petals seemed welcoming, somehow, and as Thor rumbled something low and quick into the open room, you fell back easily onto the flowerbed, marveling at the sensation.

Better than anything you'd ever laid on, even Stark's multiple-thousand-dollar memory foam mattress.

The sound of Thor's outer robes falling to the floor attracted your attention. You lifted your eyes and focused on his bare chest: the god looked down on you with mischievous fondness, studying your face for any sign of discomfort. There was none to have. All of the people and their couplings fell into the background as you beheld him, beginning to scent a subtle change in the air.

A distant storm. Bittersweet smell of ozone and fresh rainfall. Crackling of electricity somewhere nearby, the kind that raised the fine hair on your arms and sent a pleasant tingle all over your scalp. Thor's thick thumb traced the bottom of your mouth, spreading the sensation over your lips.

He sat down at your side, taking the time to simply study the lines of your face: the curve of your Cupid's bow, the arch of your nose and warm apples of your cheeks. Every inch of skin sparkled alight under his touch. Parting your lips, you breathed wetly over his fingers, taking his godly nature wholly into yourself.

Holding the side of your face in his large palm, Thor pulled you upwards, easily dragging you to sit over his lap. His blue eyes stormy, a spark of electricity shot out when your mouths connected, adding sensation to the softness of your lips and the scratch of his beard. Your tongues mingled, familiarity and sweet spit pouring molten desire into your bloodstream.

For a while, you two got lost in the sensual dance of your tongues. Background noise tuned out, you felt and had Thor. His large palms stroked your bare back and legs, toed the lines of your revealing tunic without quite breaching them. Unconsciously, you had began to inch closer and closer to the growing bulge beneath his loincloth, your budding arousal just shy of exactly where you wanted it.

Thor pulled you in. Dipping under the waistband of tour garment, he thumbed the skin there, and finding no more barriers, firmly kneaded the plump cheeks of your ass. Each movement rubbed deliciously between your legs, the touch of soft silk causing more and more moisture to flood your cunt.

“Mmm, Thor,” you moaned, having had totally lost yourself in the moment and forgotten the large audience gathered below your designated space. Not that they cared, if judging only from the noises: the air had gotten thick as Thor's arousal grew and it seemed to echo in other attendees.

A low growl left the god's mouth as his hands held onto you firmer, tighter. His bare chest glistened with the same golden dust and sparks of it settled deeply within his yawning pupils. The restraint he showed was truly incredible for that you knew that look: any other time your clothing had already been ripped off in tatters and your legs hung over his shoulders.

Thor became deliciously feral when properly riled up.

With great effort, he unwrapped himself from within your arms and turned you towards the room, settling your legs open over his spread knees, your back to his chest. Your head immediately fell back to rest against his shoulder: the world came in and out of focus as you fought with the fog that always came after Thor's stormy kisses. It was not meant to be: a wet gasp tore out of your lips as your eyes lidded from the possessive nature of his palm gathering and squeezing your breast.

Rolling your nipples between his fingers, Thor grinned into your hair as tiny sparks manifested on his fingertips and hardened the tender buds. You jerked.

He held on strong. “Easy.”

You felt the rumble of that deep voice within your guts and whined, discontent with the pace of your activities. He'd barely started and your cunt was already aching to be filled.

“We must do this properly,” he explained, breathing hot ozone into your ear. “Your body must be receptive to my offering.”

What was that, exactly? Neither of you were on board with having children, at least now. But it did not mean you couldn't practice... Petulant, you pushed your ass back towards his hips and were rewarded with a particularly well-aimed tweak. You squealed. Several attendees raised their heads from various body parts and places and gave appreciative smirks.

Fine, you decided. Two can play that game.

Reaching behind yourself, your back arched as you buried your hands into Thor's hair, pushing your breasts out in the process. The loose silk garment fell apart to the sides, baring your chest and breasts along with Thor's palms kneading the meat of them. The God gave an appreciative rumble at the sensation of his hair being pulled, bending over to mouth at the shell of your ear.

“I can smell you,” he faux-whispered. “Your cunt is dripping.”

No shit, you wanted to say, but all that came out of you was a moan as he released your breasts from his sweet, ardurous clutches and went for your inner thighs instead. Sparks danced all across your flesh, caressing the soft skin there and brining a strong scent of a budding storm into your coupling.

Candlelight flickered into life as twilight fell upon the room. Thick, dark clouds gathered above the palace and behind glass panes constituting most of the roof. Fat, clear raindrops began to tap against the glass. Rich smell of plants in bloom and alimentative petrichor seeped through the cracks in-between doorways and windowsills.

Arousal sat low and heavy in your belly, curling, coiling like a snake. Every spark borne on Thor's fingertips stoked the fire. Glowing embers blossomed into a roaring fire as your blood rushed into your ears. It was incredible your body had any to spare in the first place with how wet and swollen your sex felt.

Thor had come to a personal conclusion as his hands finally traversed a path towards the front clasp of your garment. It fell apart easily, silken curtains gliding over your sensitive skin. You shuddered, fine hairs rising. They were soothed by Thor's hands brushing over your nakedness, undoing the frontal sash.

Noise had picked back up. What started as clear rainfall and rolling thunder outside the walls turned into a damp, fragrant cacophony of sex. Through lidded eyes, you spied a throuple of lovers engaged in a passionate dance of bodies. There was no discerning where one began and other ended, but one blonde head took note of your attentions and winked at you brazenly, causing you to flush.

“'tis a blessed time indeed,” Thor's rumbling chuckle came from the crown of your head. “Tell me, beloved, how do you feel?”

Forming coherent thoughts was difficult. “Hmm,” you arched further into Thor's hands, “electric.”

Your godly boyfriend laughed as he parted your legs to rest over his wide thighs. His hand made a sizeable bump under the flimsy curtain of fabric that covered your arousal, the entirety of it covered by Thor in a posessive gesture. His middle finger slid over the seam of your lips, finding it wet and sticky. Thor rumbled in satisfaction as thunder roared outside, mirroring the god's satisfaction.

Periodic flashes of lightning added an ephemeral spotlight effect onto the inhabitants of the room. It seemed like everyone was watching you. Waiting, with their unhurried movements and lovemaking at a leisurely pace. You found it hard to focus on anything else besides the throbbing in your cunt.

“Almost ripe for the picking.” Thor stated with authority, an unusual grit to his voice. And he felt larger than ever behind you, hot and slick with budding sweat, cock swollen to a steely hardness under your ass. He flicked your clit with resolute precision, coaxing your cunt into dripping more of that sweet nectar.

In the slippery mess of it, you did not notice him switching his fingers out to nudge at your entrance, the side of his thumb taking their place to stroke at your clit. Three of his large fingers slid in with next to no resistance. Your back arched with a loud moan, reticence momentarily forgotten. The walls of your cunt spasmed, trying to suck him further in. To go places only his long, fat cock could reach.

Thor was stretching you with long, fluid strokes as your cunt wept approval, sash bluntly pushed to the side, all of you on full display. Your eyes had long stuck themselves shut for that the assault of sensation had become unbearable: contrary to normal way of your activities, Thor's actions only deepened the pit in your belly. You feared it would grow bottomless, forever unable to be sated by anything you've ever experienced before.

The stares or attendees only served to darken that pit, widen the jagged edges of it. As you held on to Thor's shoulders, your legs fell further and farther open with each stroke. What little clothing had remained on your body felt strangling, suffocating on your skin. You needed to be bare as you were born, placed before your god-partner for there was nothing else you wished but him to ravish you and everyone to bear witness.

“It is time!” Thor declared, voice booming. It carried through the room effortlessly, preceding a rapid change in atmosphere and frantic rustling of clothing as people shed everything save for their birthday suits.

The God unhanded your pliant body, briefly, to thunder something in Asgardian, and laid it plainly upon the marble altar. Sounds of seams ripping joined the roaring storm outside. Heat like molten iron spread through your limbs, and when you opened your eyes to see Thor sat on his haunches, your partner's eyes glowed a brilliant white. Sparks shot from his mane and fingertips.

His large cock, erect and proud, released a drop of clear fluid. Unconsciously licking your lips you watched it trickle down the shaft, along the prominent pulsing vein. Your cunt flexed, too, seemingly having attained a mind of it's own. Thor grinned. A smile that would have been unsettling in any other situation, for it was all shiny white teeth, sharp as a wolf's.

“...!” He spoke, again in Asgardian, and you shuddered at the resonant nature of his grovelly voice. All the others cheered, sound a cacophony of moans, yelps and shrill exclamations.

Whether it was the thunder outside or the ever-present storm within him, you did not know, but with a loud rumble, Thor threw himself atop you, slamming into your swollen, open cunt in one long, smooth stroke. Powerful muscles in his back rippled under your waiting palms. Your eyes rolled back into your skull as your body went limp.

This Thor did not hold back.

Vikings had ritualistic orgies, so why the hell not Asgard? I read this fic some four years ago that since had been deleted with a similar core idea and it has sort of cemented in my brain. Latest MCU has us thinking that Thor is just some guy with a hammer but I like fics that - not necessarily delve - but tie in his divine aspect. Like, he is a God even on his own planet. Additionally, I've always been dead set on Thor having a brown or a black S/O. Not sure why exactly... But this was written with black girls in mind. Especially the gold dust part. Have y'all seen how beautiful golden shimmer looks on dark skin? 🥹