#//too lazy to find a giF FORGIVE ME | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

houserautha · 3 months

Text

These Destined Ends

Part Seventeen

Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. You’re now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child — the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Warnings: angst, depictions of violence, breeding/pregnancy kink, oral sex f receiving, some good ole p in v

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: I’m baaack (for now). My plan for this part was for Feyd and reader to fight/argue more but I love them too much and I just couldn’t do it

It takes a tremendous effort not to look at Feyd. You can only imagine the expression on his face, the depth of hurt in his dark eyes. Even the image in your head is enough to plant a seed of despair, spiraling through you like crushing vines.

“What baby?” Feyd asks again. His voice has taken on a steely undertone, perceptible only to you. You’ve heard a plethora of emotions running like currents in his voice, disguised by years of training and practice, but this one guts you the most. There’s a single layer of vulnerability.

Of questioning hurt.

You inhale and force yourself to say, “Our baby.”

There’s no way to know how he will react. You’ve seen every side of him — the lover, the monster, the soldier — and you’ve examined each with a careful eye, peering into the mouth of his being and inspecting its teeth. But no amount of familiarity can prepare you for his calloused hand encircling your wrist and tugging you to face him.

“Say it again.”

Tears burn your eyes. “Our baby.” And suddenly it comes tumbling out, all of it. “I’m pregnant. I haven’t known long. I-I was going to tell you after you healed because I knew you would fret over me. You have to understand.”

Your explanation hastens as he stares back at you blankly. You would’ve preferred him to lash out at you, hit you, call you any number of insufferable names. But this…

“You didn’t tell me,” he says. He’s mastered his voice enough that it feels like the prick of a blade under your ribs, waiting to push in.

“You couldn’t afford to think about me,” you tell him, “you needed to focus on your health.”

There’s a flicker there, in his expression. “It is not solely your decision to make. The child is both of ours. You should’ve told me.”

“Feyd —”

“Enough.” Feyd releases his grip. “I’ve heard enough.

“Feyd, please —”

His jaw feathers with suppressed emotion. Feyd whirls on the heel of his boot and storms off, leaving a wake of silence. You watch his retreating form, sorrow clenching in your chest like a fist. Only once he’s disappeared around the corner and you’re sure he won’t return, do you lash around to confront Chani.

“Why did you do that?”

“Do what?” A lazy smile unfurls on her face. “I assumed you told him already.”

“Fuck you.”

“Again?” Chani asks.

No one dares stop you as you dress for battle in your stillsuit. Chani better pray to her gods that you don’t find her alone in the battle field, you can’t promise not to take out your anger. The public argument between you two simmers as the group gathers, reviewing the attack. A familiar movement in the corner of your eye distracts you, and surprise grips you in response.

“What are you doing?” You breathe out, ashamed to admit how relieved you felt, however fleeting.

“Did you think I’d let you go out alone?”

Feyd avoids your gaze, keeps his own focused on Stilgar as the bearded man explains his plan. Your husband is so heartbreakingly beautiful. You commit his profile to memory, the essence of him — wrath and death, the god of war, but also the softer side of him that only you’ve seen. Before, on Giedi Prime, you didn’t know the pain of losing him, of seeing him bleeding out in the sands of Arrakis.

The memory flashes in your mind. The level of desperation in your voice is frankly pathetic, but you wouldn’t allow it for anyone else. “You have to forgive me, Feyd. I thought —”

“Save it.” His gaze slides, finally, to you. You might imagine the softness that forms there when he looks at you. “We’ll talk later.”

Your legs are cramping. You’ve laid on this fucking sand dune for what seems like a small eternity now, covered in a mesh blanket to disguise yourself. Feyd rests next to you. The Fremen are buried in the sand for ambush. You don’t know why you would want to help the Harkonnen, but they were insistent upon you being removed from the initial attack.

Your decision to move your leg is forgotten at the droll sound of a ship in the distance, a dark shape in the sky that grows exponentially larger. Feyd stiffens next to you.

“Rabban might be on that ship,” you say as loud as you dare.

Feyd’s mouth forms a firm line. “I hope he is.”

It strikes you that you’re quite grateful to be on the side of the Fremen as they launch their ambush, bodies upon bodies emerging from the sands like desert wraiths and immediately killing every foot soldier. You and Feyd launch from your hiding spot once the ship opens fire — Feyd to join the fighting on the ground, you aiming the blasgun given to you. You follow him with your eyes as he moves through the bloodshed like it’s a well-choreographed dance, both graceful and gruesome, his blades glinting.

Shot after shot you take out as many Harkonnens as you can, trying not to think about how you might know them. You focus, instead, on the fact that they would do anything to erase the life growing inside your womb, the promise of unity.

The Messiah.

From your vantage point the ambush looks to be waning when a figure disembarks from the ship. The last time you saw him, you’d tried to kill him.

The feeling hadn’t gone away.

Feyd kicks in the knee of a fellow Harkonnen, who drops to the ground. In a fluid movement he removes the helmet and slits their throat, then regards his brother. There’s no doubting that Rabban recognizes his brother, even in a stillsuit, recognizes the man he trained and fought with.

Every instinct in you is yelling at you to tumble down the dune to join the fight, but the rumble of a sandworm hums beneath your feet and you know that you don’t have time. Already the Fremen are retreating. Almost all of the Harkonnen soldiers have been cut down except for the spare few who stayed behind with Rabban. The ship whirs to life. You can’t tell if the brothers exchange any words before the ship lifts back into the air and Feyd is clamoring back to you, his face paler than normal beneath his protective helmet.

You know not to question him about it until later but when you return to the sietch, the ambush team rejoices in their triumph. You’re jostled back and forth and away from Feyd. “The Messiah paved our way to victory!” Stilgar exclaimes, dirt and blood smearing his face.

A roar of approval echoes him and you smile weakly at the Fremen patting you on the back and reaching out to touch your abdomen. An actual growl over your shoulder wards them off, though, Feyd appearing in your peripheral.

“Y/N!” Jessica emerges from the festivities, expression concerned. “Are you alright?” Her attention drops to your stomach.

Irritation has you grinding your molars together as you bite out, “I’m fine.”

“Where were you?” Feyd levels this question to your mother.

Jessica says, “I was doing my duty. Here.”

“You say you have the interest of the Fremen at heart but you make yourself conveniently scarce whenever the opportunity arises to prove it.”

You suppress a smirk. While healing, he missed most of your mother’s Bene Gesserit propaganda. It pleases you that he sees through her bullshit right off the bat. Even if he doesn’t completely understand it, or your participation in it, Feyd knows that Jessica is not as genuine as she says.

“Do you doubt me?” She asks him.

Feyd’s silence is response enough. A flicker of irritation crosses Jessica’s face.

“You need to speak to them,” she says to you, “tell them that you foresaw this victory. That with our help, with the support of the Messiah, they will succeed in this war. That today is just a taste.”

Feyd cuts his gaze to you. Well, he knows your participation now.

“No,” you tell her.

Jessica has the good sense to look taken aback. “No?”

“I am tired. And I wish to reunite with my husband. You speak to them.” You grab Feyd’s hand despite knowing that the contact is unwanted, dragging him away from the crowd and your mother’s palpable anger. For your sake he clings to you until you’re out of sight, then wrenches his hand away.

“I have not forgotten what you done,” he snarls.

You double check to ensure that no one is around to overhear what undoubtedly will become an argument. “I know.”

Soft to his unyielding fury.

“Tell me everything.”

Unable to look at him, you find a spot on the wall past him, regret burrowing into your heart. “I-I’ve known for roughly three months now. I didn’t know if he would survive the crash.”

“He?” A single word.

“Yes.” For the first time in his presence, you let your fingers drift to your abdomen. Feyd’s hands twitch but otherwise he’s motionless. “It’s…a boy. He’s strong. I can feel it.”

Feyd wavers slightly, the news leeching from the reservoir of his anger. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I told you, I knew you would never give yourself the time to heal if you knew.”

“It’s my duty to protect you. My privilege. And all this time, not knowing—” Feyd cuts off abruptly, a spasm of pain crossing his expression. “I thought we told each other everything. No more games.”

Your heart pangs. “I wasn’t playing a game, Feyd. I wanted to protect you. I had to watch you nearly die in front of me. I can’t lose you.” You blame the pregnancy hormones for the tears that spring to your eyes, the emotions thick in your throat. “Please don’t hate me.”

“Nothing you do can make me hate you,” Feyd murmurs after a heartbeat. He steps closer, his thumb swiping over your cheeks, your tears. He seems to be wrestling for what to say next and finally whispers, “You’re pregnant.”

“I am,” you say, laughing, nearly delirious.

A moment passes in which he stares at you in disbelief, before he loops his arms around your waist and picks you up off your feet. A smile graces your face, buried in his neck, as he whirls you in a circle and sets you back down with a rarely-heard laugh — clear and deep.

“A son,” he breathes. Realization encroaches his delight. “What does this mean? For us? For…him?”

Sorrow eclipses your own happiness, however brief. You keep it close to your heart, a memory for later, when it will be scarce. “The Fremen have been condition by the Bene Gesserit to believe our child is their Messiah.”

“Isn’t he?”

“Yes.” You cringe. “And no.”

“Explain.”

“As you know, we’ve been bred for generations to produce the Kwisatz Haderach. But according to the Fremen, to what the Bene Gesserits said, the mother must also be Bene Gesserit. And I am…not.”

“But they believe you are.”

Guilt punctures you like a blade to your lung, slipping between your ribs and expelling all of your breath. “Yes, they do. It’s all by my mother’s design. She wants the control.”

Feyd’s brow furrows. “Against my family?”

“The person in control of Arrakis is in control of the whole universe,” you say, “she wants to orchestrate everything from behind the scenes.”

To say it out loud devastates you, how you and Feyd have been only pawns in a scheme much larger than the both of you. And now your child.

Power drove your family apart.

“What do we do?” Feyd asks.

“I don’t know,” you reply honestly.

Feyd’s attention drifts to where the sietch is still celebrating their victory. “These people have been oppressed for too long. We can’t allow it to continue.”

“We need their allegiance, though,” you tell him. “We won’t win this war without them.”

“Wouldn’t we just be falling right into the Bene Gesserits hands? Lending ourselves and our son to them? Enslaving them?”

“I want justice for them as much as you.”

The slightest of exhales from Feyd. “What’s your plan?” When you look away without a reply, he reaches out to take your hand. “We’ll figure it out. But we don’t have much time.”

“Y/N.”

You turn to face your mother, wreathed in yellow fabric. The intensity of her blue-on-blue eyes is frightening. You haven’t dared to look into any reflective surface to see if yours possesses the same hue but, judging by the tint in Feyd’s, you probably look the same.

A visible sign of the way your life has transitioned.

“We aren’t done,” you say to her flatly.

“It can wait.”

Feyd bristles. “She said we weren’t done.”

Jessica lazily assess your husband. It incites a flare of anger in you; no one has ever looked at Feyd-Rautha before with such indifference. He simply did not command it. Out of the corner of your eye you peek at him. Shutters have drawn down on his face, making him entirely unreadable. The slightest of muscles jumping under his eye tells you of the turmoil beneath the surface of his composure.

“You think you own her?” Jessica asks. “Just because you’re wed? Need I remind you that it was by my design.”

Feyd snarls, “No one owns her.”

“You belong to centuries of Bene Gesserit design,” your mother reminds you, “this is your destiny.”

“It’s the destiny that you’ve manipulated,” you snap back. “What will they do when they find out that I’m not a witch? That everything is a lie?”

“It’s not my fault that you failed to live up to your potential,” Jessica shot back.

It hits you like a slap to the face.

“I suggest that you take your leave,” Feyd says into the stunned silence. He steps forward, half shielding you with his body.

Jessica’s upper lip curls. “The failed heir to the Baroncy. A weapon, but nothing more. Except perhaps a sire. Congratulations.”

“Enticing us into an argument isn’t going to make us give in to your demands,” you say. “I refuse to take part in your indoctrination anymore.”

“Fine. Tell them it’s a lie. They’ll kill you before you can say another word.”

Feyd curses under his breath. You both know that she’s right, that the link of your son is the only thing keeping you alive. It’s a tremulous relationship between you and the Fremen, one that not even the victory today could completely reconcile. You hate that Jessica still has such a firm hold over you. Over Feyd. Your son.

At your sides, your hands tremble with suppressed rage. “This isn’t over.”

“Isn’t it?” Jessica’s lips curl into a smile.

You lay side by side later that night, mulling over the events that had unfolded. The darkness obscures your husband but his presence beside you is solid, unyielding. Safe.

“He saw me today. Rabban.”

“Do you think they’ll come for you?” You ask.

His silence stretches on for quite some time before he answers. “Perhaps. I’m not sure whether I want them to or not. Probably not.”

“Why wouldn’t they? Surely they thought that you — we — died in the crash.”

“That’s just it,” Feyd says, “Rabban undoubtedly reported our deaths and, by admitting he’s wrong, will suffer for it. I suspect that he’s fuming right now actually.”

“Hopefully long enough for us to figure out our next step,” you murmur in reply.

The cot that you both have squeezed onto rustles as Feyd turns on his side. You can just barely make out his face, the shape of his shoulder. His hand moves to your abdomen, where it hovers before finally landing. His palm is warm on your skin, alighting a fire inside of you. No matter how many times you touch your entire being reacts to him, surging up to meet him. And there, as weak as a fluttering pulse, your baby, too small for Feyd to notice rejoicing in his closeness.

“Our next step is just to take them one at a time.” His eyes glisten in the darkness. “I do not want to miss out on these moments because I am worried about a future that is not promised.”

Feyd dips down, presses a kiss to your navel. You can’t help but sigh in response, hips rising, eager to feel his lips elsewhere. He chuckles, deep and rumbling, fingers dancing over the waistband of your pants. “We have conceived a child. Some would argue that our obligation to one another is finished.”

“And what would you argue?”

He pretends to pause, to consider this. “I would tell them that I must be cold in the ground to miss an opportunity to fuck my wife.”

A laugh escapes you as he masterfully removes the barrier of cloth between you, relying on touch to guide him down your body. Hips still wriggling, Feyd quells your impatience with his tongue. He slides through your folds like he’s savoring the experience, like he might never taste you again, tracing over your entrance but denying you the admittance. You buck up in frustration.

“Patience, jewel,” he murmurs against you, “I want to relish touching my pregnant wife for the first time.”

Your cunt clenches at this. You’re forced to squeeze your eyes, as the sight of him between your legs is almost too much to bear. Your whole life you have been chasing home and now, here, you have found it in him, in his ruinous touch. You were his, marked before by the band on your finger and now the child in your womb, not a sign of ownership but belonging.

“Such a good, perfect wife,” he says as he pleases you, a mixture of his fingers and his mouth. “Taking my seed so well and giving me a son. I cannot wait to see you grow with him in your belly, my child. Our child.”

He withdraws long enough to stroke himself, clearly aroused at the thought. Your thighs press together, slicked by his mouth and your own arousal, but Feyd pushes them apart with one hand while pumping himself with the other. In a single, fluid movement, he then pushes his cock into you with decisive force. You bite down on your lip to keep from crying out as he fills you completely, stretching your walls.

Feyd draws back and thrusts into you, over and over, building in ferocity. You bury your fingers into the cot to anchor yourself. Stars burst across your vision.

He speaks through each panted breath as if he might perish if he does not say the words. “I have given my heart to you, my soul, and in return you have given yourself to me. To my son.” There’s a hitch in his voice. Feyd presses his body to yours as he drives into you, holding you close. “You have given me the ultimate gift.”

Tears splatter on your chest. You realize with a lurching heart that he is crying, overcome with his emotions. You hold on to him just as tightly — there are no words fitting for this confession. Instead you pour yourself into him, into the push and pull of your bodies. And when you come together, crashing into your release, there is no distinction between you or him; you are only one. One breathing, pulsing being, utterly entwined.

Afterwards, when you have kissed the tears off his cheeks and he’s thoroughly cleaned you, Feyd curls up beside your abdomen. Adrift in your post-orgasm bliss, you’ve nearly succumbed to sleep when he says:

“I see him.”

Drowsy, you ask, “Who?”

“Our son.” This piques your interest, leading you to squint into the dark at him. Feyd, sensing your confusion, elaborates, “I see him in my dreams. Nightmares. I didn’t understand at first but now I know that it’s him.”

“Really?” Your voice is soft.

Feyd nods. His finger trails up the curve of your belly, not quite shaped by your pregnancy. “He looks like you and I’m so…I’m so proud of him.” There’s an edge of sadness in his voice now. “Even though, in my nightmares, he —”

You wait for him to continue but he does not. Feyd shudders against you, wrought with whatever pain the poison-induced dreams leave.

Feyd finally whispers, “Do you think we can change our fate? What’s been laid out for us?”

“I like to think so,” you say with honesty. Every instinct in you is raging at whatever has unraveled your husband so, but you know that the matter must be delicate. You don’t want to press.

“But what if we can’t?”

You ghost your fingers over his head, desperate to comfort him. The words unnerve you but you don’t dare let him know that you’re frightened by the same thing.

“I will love you until the very end of it,” you breathe, “that is all I can say for sure.”

Feyd replies, full of fear and regret, “I know.”

Taglist:

@moonsoulk @heartarianagran @torchbearerkyle @unicoreads @mamawiggers1980 @jovialeggsbailiffsoul @harkonnin @avidreader73 @unicorntrooper @beebeechaos @kamcrazy123 @wo-ming-bai @m-indkiller @kpopnstarwars @dacreshoney @stopeatread @the-na-baroness @therealslimshady-1 @unnisumi @aoi-targaryen @psychoffin @lauratang @austinswhitewolf @bloodyziggy

#feyd rautha #dune #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd x reader #feyd x you #fanfic writing #feyd smut #writers on tumblr #fanfic #writing #these destined ends

184 notes · View notes

catmelonwriting · 2 months

Text

BSD & Their love languages <3

Warnings: A few mentions of characters pasts in passing but other than that this is pure fluff <3 not written well because i made this on a whim 20 minutes before i typically sleep

Characters: Akutagawa, Atsushi, Yosano, Dazai, Ranpo

A/N: I need a boyfriend like akutagawa 😒

Akutagawa

- Acts of service

He's constantly doing the tiniest little things for you that'll make your day just a little better; switching your clothes from the washer to the dryer for you, he'll cook you breakfast and make the coffee in the morning before you're even awake, he'll shut the blinds when he wakes up before you so you can sleep in longer, etcetera. He's not great with showing how he loves you through words and he's a bit afraid of physical touch so this is the best way for him to show you his love.

Atsushi

- Quality time

He wants to spend every second of every day with you no matter what you're doing. Going to the laundromat? He'll tag along! Forgot to get something at the store, well obviously he needs to come with. Besides that, he's always planning cutesy little dates at parks and inviting you over to his house just to sit on his bed in each other's presence while doing your own thing. Your presence just makes his life so much better and he wants to do everything with you.

Yosano

- Gift giving

We all know this girl LOVES shopping. You're coming with her on all her shopping trips of course so you'll see most of what she gets, but every once in awhile she'll slip a cute shirt or a pretty lip color into the cart while you're off looking at something else so she can surprise you when you two get home. Same goes with online shopping - even if she's not planning on buying anything and just scrolling through a shopping website for fun and she sees something she'll know you like, purchased immediately.

Dazai

(forgive me for the color I had no clue on what to use)

- Physical touch

It doesn't matter what you're doing, you can be reading a book on your couch or sitting at your desk at work, he'll come right over and drop his torso into your lap, laying over you while you pet his hair and he complains about how difficult his day today was. He never got a lot of affection as a kid so he's so happy to have you to fill that whole.

Ranpo

- Gift giving; but only with sweets.

Obviously this boy doesn't have too much money, he's not particularly attached to physical affection, he's too lazy to give you many acts of service - but what he can do? Leave a piece of candy on your desk eveytime you're upset, even if it's his favorite he'll give it to you to make you feel better. It's not.. the best way to help you, but he's trying and it genuinely does show his love (we all know how much his candy means to him.) and of course it cheers you up everytime you find a nice treat on your desk.

#bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd #atsushi x reader #akutagawa x reader #yosano x reader #dazai x reader #ranpo x reader

256 notes · View notes

imaginingbleach · 5 months

Text

Something that randomly came to mind...

Enjoy!

(NSFW below the cut; espadas included: 1, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8 & Neliel)

Struggled a bit with 8, so forgive me. 😭

Types of Doms they are:

Starrk

This man has got exactly two modes when it comes to sex. Lazy or feral.

He's willing to do a lot with you, but if you catch him in his lazy mode you'll likely be doing most of the work.

Ride him, suck him, hell he'll even give you oral if you both find the right positions for him to laze a out.

Just remember: It's not that he isn't enjoying himself; that rock hard dick proves otherwise...

You knew what you were getting into.

Now then, switching gears: when he's feral, he'll barely let you move.

He's making you cum a minimum of one time before he's even going to penetrate you in any way.

He gets very possessive in this state.

Congratulations! You've essentially got a werewolf boyfriend who's usually lazy and can't transform like that...

But! When he needs to claim you for whatever reason? Welp!

Communication is key with this man! He doesn't mind if you have multiple partners, but he can get a bit jealous if you don't tell him!

Hell, you'll find out on more than one occasion, when someone flirts with you...

He'll bring you home and claim you all night long.

He might not even make it home.

Just... Keep him in the loop if you're crushing or plan to date another. it'll probably save some furniture.

Halibel

As she can't quite use her mouth outside of being in her release form, she's had time to master plenty of other ways to get you off.

She prefers to use her hands and fingers on you, but is not opposed to toys in anyway.

That's primarily for when she's doing any for of penetration on you, though.

She has learned to use any and every part of her body to be able to tease you and leave you squirming and begging for her.

Don't call her master. It reminds her of her fraccións.

May accept being called mommy under the right circumstances, though.

Has absolutely no issues with being called daddy.

Just sit on her lap and ask daddy politely if you can ride her thigh~

Not one to get jealous easily, but is definitely protective.

This is particularly true if you are someone who can be seen as weak to others.

Not very loud, but loves hearing how loud she can make you.

Ulquiorra

He struggles a lot with more human like needs and emotions

So he tends to be a heavy service top...

But it comes with so many questions.

"Why does your face warm when I kiss you?"

"Why do you avert your gaze when I-"

You get the idea.

Eventually once repeated behaviors rise up, he starts catching on.

When you make this sound, it means you really like it.

When you squirm, you're not actually trying to get away.

Just simple stuff, but you'll have had to explain it to him a bit before he starts connecting the dots.

Once he's more comfortable with you and starts recognizing these reactions...

You're in for it.

He's definitely someone who gets off on your pleasure.

As long as you're satisfied, so is he.

Nnoitra

He surprisingly doesn't mind being the one to do all the work.

It let's him be in control of, well, everything.

There's something about seeing how much you get off on everything he does to you that drives the predator in him wild.

He enjoys having control, and, having you submit to let him do whatever he wants is too delicious to pass up.

Plus, he can't help but enjoy the way you always act like such cute little prey when he's teasing you.

Those big doe eyes, the small squeaky and whiny noises you make...

The way he can make you come undone with almost any part of his body...

It's very >:))

Not entirely against sharing, but like with Starrk, if it's not discussed he can get a bit jealous

His jealousy, however, is usually more rage fueled than hormonal so watch out for that.

He's not too into being called anything "special"

May accept "daddy" now and again

Despite how kinky sex with him might be-- it is fueled by emotions (at least on his end)

You've sparked his interest in one way or another enough to warrant wanting to carnally claim you...

There's at least some attachments and calling him "master" immediately throws that out the window to him.

Grimmjow

He definitely still has some characteristics from his more beastial hollow form

His need to claim you is always in battle with his desire to see you submit to him

Kneel before the king and offer him a blowjob, he's grinning wider than Nnoitra

Seeing you beg him to pleasure you is just 😘

Part of the problem with him is that it's a bit difficult for him to give oral... Given that he has to be very conscious of every move he makes because of his hollow mask

But he is a god with his hands.

He's another one who likes to watch you ride his thighs.

Absolutely gets off on being called king, but will absolutely bust a nut if you refer to him as your husband (romantic partner ofc)

This is at it's worst before any kind of marriage, but it's still effective after.

Doesn't see the appeal in being called daddy until he *is* a daddy 👀 something about being one makes it kinkier to him for you to call him daddy

Szayel

A bit different from the others on the list in that he wants to be worshipped like a god.

He wants you to use your entire body to do so, but this is just the first act-- no form of penetration just yet. (Minus maybe deep throating him~)

Now, once that's all done he's got PLENTY of ways to pleasure you...

He's definitely into orgasm denial and overstimulation.

He likes testing your body~

If you're willing, definitely would do some experimenting...

He wouldn't do anything too drastic, though.

If not, he'll find a way to make some of his palatable for you~

You really should thank him for thinking of you.

So/so with names. The higher status the name gives him, the more he'll like it.

Neliel

Dommy mommy 🥰

She absolutely loves to spoil you during kinky times together

Another one who gets off more on your pleasure than her own

If you're not a pillow prince(ss) type of sub, she will boss you around a bit~

But she's so sweet when she does that it just has you melting at her every word

"What was that, baby? Tell mommy what you want~"

She might tease you with that one by having you with a gag in your mouth or other things 🤭

Absolutely does get off on taking care of you

Dotes on you, takes great lengths into making sure you're comfortable during aftercare!

Doesn't matter how you compare size wise to her, she's holding you on her and letting you rest your head on her chest

Makes an amazing pillow ngl

163 notes · View notes

spiderispunk · 2 years

Text

Insatiable

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Smut (18+). Oral Sex (f!receiving). So Many Pet Names. Praise Kink. Dirty Talk. A little smidge of domesticity.

A/N: I blame this one completely on @ussgallifrey reblogging that stupid gif of Glen Powell flipping that goddamn toothpick over and over again until I combusted. Thanks for all the inspiration, my friend. This one’s for you!

If it were up to Hangman, he’d stay between your legs forever.

It was no secret he loved going down on you. Jake loved the way you tasted. Loved the way you felt under his tongue, and all the pretty, wanton sounds you made when he got his mouth on you. He lived for the shake and sigh of your body, and how you pressed your thighs against the sides of his head to hold him in place (not that he was going anywhere anyways).

You were his favorite meal. He wanted you anytime, anywhere.

On the kitchen counter in the morning, when you were still bleary eyed and moved like warm syrup. On the couch during a particularly lazy afternoon, while an innocuous TV show or movie played in the background, long forgotten. After a long day or an operation– though nowadays it was getting harder and harder to tell the difference between the two.

Once he’d even pushed you up against the door of the Hard Deck’s bathroom and hastily shoved your dress up your legs. That was fun. You think back on that night often.

His whispered apologies: I know. I know you’re working, honey, and it’s a bad time. But you look so damn good in that dress and I just have to have you now. Think you can forgive me? The way his green eyes glimmered in the dim light, lips pulled into a smirk, because he knew there was no way you’d tell him no. Not by then, when you could feel the warmth of his breaths against your damp panties. He’d drawn your attention, and your desire, the moment he walked into the door with his friends.

Yeah, Jake “Hangman” Seresin was an insatiable man, but really, you weren’t complaining.

So you’re not surprised to find yourself tossed haphazardly onto the bed, with Jake worming his way between your legs the moment he gets home.

“Jake,” you giggle. “Slow down.”

He grabs your ankles and drags you to the edge of the bed. “Can’t, honey. It’s been too long since I’ve seen you.”

“It’s been 9 days,” you gasp, sliding down the bed.

Jake lifts your leg and kisses your calf. “It’s been too long,” he repeats, a smirk on his face, and a hunger in his eyes.

“You’re so dramatic.” You roll your eyes.

Mischievous eyes lock with yours, lips still dragging up the skin of your leg. “You wound me, baby.” He bites the bend of your inner knee. “Can’t a man miss his wife?”

“Miss his wife, or miss something else?” You lift your eyebrows.

Jake chuckles. “Little bit of both.” He rubs his hands down your thighs. “That a bad thing?”

“‘M not complaining.” You let your legs fall open.

Jake’s gaze darkens. He trails his hand up your inner thigh, fingers hooking into the front of your small sleep shorts.

“Y’know how much I love these things,” he mumbles, his voice all gravel. “Did you wear them for me?”

“Maybe,” you say coyly.

You had. It was quite a gamble on the timing though. You had a ballpark range for how long the operation was supposed to take, but not an exact return date. Thankfully he had come back tonight, because you’d nearly gone through your entire wardrobe of shorts.

Jake runs his fingers up your calf, fingers rubbing circles on your bare skin. “God, I missed ya,” he mumbles under his breath.

Jake looks at you like he’s trying to decide where to start. Slowly, meticulously taking his time. You imagine it was how he got when planning out an operation.

A thousand scenarios play out in his head, and they all end the same, with you coming apart on his cock. Sometimes you’re on your stomach, sometimes you’re on your side. Sometimes you’re a drooling mess, sometimes you come with a whimper. It all ends the same. But how he gets to that point, well, there lies the fun of it all.

He takes you in, gaze roaming your body like fire. His eyes slide down your body, snagging on your shirt bunched up under your breasts, dragged there when he tugged you towards the edge of the bed. His mouth waters at the bare skin of your stomach and hips. With a little luck, in a few minutes you’ll sport twin bruises on your hip bones from his teeth.

His lust-blown gaze lingers on your shorts, and the prize that lies beneath them. He tugs at the waistband of your shorts again, with a thoughtful expression that makes something hot twist inside your core.

“You just gonna stare at me all day?” You bite your bottom lip.

Jake chuckles. “Oh no, honey. I’m just trying to figure out where to start.”

“How about like this?” You twist your fingers into the bottom of his shirt and pull him down on top of you.

He leans over you, supporting his weight on his elbows. “Like this?” His fingertips stroke your cheek.

Your eyes flit down to his lips, mouth going dry. “Uh huh.”

Jake closes the distance, brushing his lips over yours. What starts as an innocent kiss quickly turns hungry when he slips his tongue past the seam of your lips. You can taste the faintest hint of the spearmint gum he chews, and the coffee he must have drunk to stay awake on the drive home.

He gently lays the rest of his weight on top of you, molding his body to yours. You arch into the solid mass of his warm chest, feeling anchored there when his arms snake around you. On instinct, you wrap your legs around his waist, using the leverage to grind your hips against his.

Jake sucks in a breath. One of his hands slides down your back to grasp at your ass, sealing you to him as you slide into a clumsy rhythm. Your lips part, and your warm, dewy breaths fan over Jake’s face. Your soft whimpers, and Jake’s hungry grunts fill the room. It’s desperate and messy, and Jake thinks he might come in his pants then and there like a goddamn teenager.

With great effort, he unlocks your thighs from his waist, and puts a little space between the two of you.

Your kiss-swollen lips twist into a pout.

“Sorry, baby.” He kisses the corner of your mouth. “Wouldn’t want this to be over too soon, now would we?”

Before you can dwell on the loss of friction, Jake’s lips are on the move, tracing a searing path across your jaw and down your neck. His teeth nip at your pulse, tongue laving afterwards to soothe the sting. A breathy whine falls from your lips when he stretches the collar of your shirt to kiss your chest.

He continues his downward trek, pausing only for a moment to leave wet kisses on each of your peaked nipples. Your stomach receives his attention next– gentle kisses and bites that make it flutter. Hangman reaches your hips, and makes good on his mental promise to leave marks. By the time he pulls away to survey his handiwork, you’re a whimpering, sticky mess.

Two perfect bruises in the crescent shape of his teeth. He kisses them gently, and tugs down your shorts.

You are embarrassingly aware of how turned on you are. Your panties stick to the damp folds of your cunt. They literally peel away under his touch.

“Goddamn,” Jake mutters, total reverence in his voice. “All this for me?” He asks, running the tip of his finger over your dripping cunt.

“Y-yes.” You nod.

He sucks his finger into his mouth. “Attagirl.” His eyes flutter shut, and when they open again, they’re nearly black.

The way he watches you is obscene. It makes your skin hot, and your cunt somehow wetter. It’s too much, this desire that grows within you. And all Jake is doing is watching, as if he wants to goad you into action.

You close your legs, rubbing your thighs together for some friction, and Jake shakes his head sharply.

“No.” He clicks his tongue. “None of that.” He kneels in front of you and throws your legs over his shoulder. “Let me look at ya, honey. Just wanna appreciate ya, is all. God, you’re so fucking beautiful. Look at you just dripping for me.” There’s an edge of admiration in his tone.

Jake keeps you on edge with teasing touches. The skate of his fingertips up your inner thigh. The brush of his lips against the bend of your knee. Over and over again, until you can’t take it anymore.

“What do you want, baby?” He asks, with a shiteating smirk on his face. “Talk to me.”

“You know.”

“I do.” Jake tips you a wink. “I just wanna hear you say it.”

You glare at him petulantly.

“C’mon, baby. Use that pretty mouth of yours and tell me what you want.” He leans forward and kisses the crux of your inner thigh.

“Iwantyourmouth.” You whisper, the words running together until they’re barely recognizable.

Jake tilts his head to the side. “I’m sorry. I didn’t quite catch that.”

You roll your eyes. “You heard me.”

“I’m afraid not, pretty girl. Must be all the time I spend around those jet engines.”

“I said–” The words nearly come out in a whine. “I want your mouth.”

“There we go. That wasn’t so bad,” Jake praises. His lips resume their pilgrimage up your inner thigh, tongue sweeping out to taste your skin.

When his mouth finally touches your clit, you jump. It’s heaven. The warmth of his lips wrap around you. He slurps at you messily, spit and slick mixing in a shine that covers his chin. He savors the taste of you, the one that drives him wild, the one he dreams about when he’s away. He can’t get enough of you. His tongue swirls over you feverishly, hungrily, determined not to let a bit of you go to waste.

Above him, you shudder and shake. Hips lifting to meet his frenzied mouth. His name, among other expletives, falls from your lips. You’re really just babbling at this point, speaking just to speak. Mixing praises with pleas. The sensations feel too good to put into words.

Jake pushes your legs back, nearly folding you in half. Holding you still as his mouth works you over. One of his hands travels up your body, and two fingers prod at your lips. You suck them into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the digits.

His lips pop off your clit just for a moment to say “Good girl.” You clench around nothing and gush all over his chin.

You don’t stay empty for long. Those two long fingers leave your lips and fill your cunt. Slowly at first, and then build into a steady rhythm. The curl of his fingers inside you has you seeing stars, reaching places you can’t even hope to find on your own. Each thrust brings another wave of pleasure, throwing you closer and closer to the edge. Your toes curl, your heart hammers your breath stutters, and Jake continues consistent through it all.

“Jesus fucking Christ, sweetheart.” Jake groans. “Feel so fucking good wrapped around my fingers. Squeezing ‘em so tight. Can’t wait to fuck you.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. That bright beautiful thing builds inside you, and you lurch towards it hungrily, eagerly. Pleading for it to overtake you in its all-consuming glory.

He knows you’re close. Call it intuition, call it the knowledge that comes with prolonged intimacy. Whatever it is, he knows, and he wants it.

“You gonna come?” He mumbles, drunk on you.

You nod. “Uh huh.”

“That’s it. Come, baby. Whenever you’re ready,” he coaxes. “Wanna taste you. Want to so bad.”

Jake doubles down on his efforts. Fingers and tongue never stopping their glorious assault. Your body seizes under his touch, ratcheting tighter and tighter until you break. You gasp for air, chest heaving as the dam breaks.

You’re vaguely aware that you’re sobbing Jake’s name. At least you think you are– you’re so far gone that you could be saying anything. The broken syllables shatter off of the walls, each one going straight to Jake’s cock.

“There’s my girl, there she is.”

“Jake.”

“I know, baby, I know. Give it to me. That’s a good girl. Fuck you’re so beautiful.”

Though your body goes limp, Jake stays in place. That insatiable urge within him driving him to lick you clean. He gladly takes everything you offer and then some. Even after your consciousness finally slams back into your body, and you’re able to suck down a lungful of sweet air. Even after you try to wiggle away from him. Even after you whimper with sensitivity. Even after he somehow manages to pull a second, albeit smaller, orgasm from you.

A last sharp tug to his hair and a shudder has him pulling away with a sated smile. He wipes his chin with the back of his hand. You notice his eyes are back to their usual green. The beast must have finally been tamed.

Jake crawls his way up your body, settling on top of you once more.

You roll your head to the side and fix him with a grin.

“Don’t tell me you’re getting tired on me,” he mumbles, kissing the sensitive skin of your throat. “We’re just getting started.”

“Whose fault is it for wearing me out?” You twist your fingers through his hair and scratch at his scalp.

Jake hums, leaning into your touch. “Gotta build up your endurance again.”

“How are you planning to do that?” You raise an eyebrow.

Jake meets your eyes, that signature glint of mischief in his eyes. “I’ve got a few ideas,” he mumbles, kissing along your jaw.

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh.” His lips tickle your skin as he whispers his salacious plan in your ear.

Let’s just say you were in for a very long, very pleasurable, night.

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #hangman x reader #jake seresin fanfic #hangman fanfic #top gun maverick #i literally wrote this like a person possessed holy shit

2K notes · View notes

alexawynters · 8 months

Text

Scarlet Whispers pt. 8

Gif not mine, as always

Trigger Warnings: Smuttttttt. Horribly written smut.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Female!Reader

Rating: M. Minors DNI

Masterlist with parts 1-7 here

Chapter Eight

Translations: котёнок - Kitten; malyshka - baby; lyubov - love; dorogoya - darling; I probably missed some… I should have probably been doing this the entire time, no? Eh… My b.

A/N: Its uhhh.. My first time writing smut for the public so uh… be gentle pls? Lol. Lemme know how it went. Writing dialog and smut makes me cringe haha. This was also written while I was in the hospital. Is it bad that the 5 day stay was almost a vacation compared to life? Haha, living the dreeeaammm. Someone pls hit me with their car or something so I can go back and have 0 responsibilities for another week. Promise I won’t sue 😛

Once again, edited while floaty. Apparently that’s the only time I can get the motivation to open my laptop. In my defense, I’m currently in the middle of a move and starting a new job so pls forgive my laziness. I’m a tad overwhelmed. It’s finnnne.

____________________________________________________________

During your time at the aquarium with Wanda, you hadn't noticed how late it had gotten. Logically, you knew it was around dinner time because you both had just eaten, but you didn't realize until you both entered the dimly lit cottage that it was so dark outside. Despite the long day you’d had, you weren't ready to go to bed just yet. Body thrumming with an unfamiliar energy, and you could tell it stemmed from Wanda's hand still holding onto your waist. Now that you were home, it would be socially acceptable for her to let you go, but instead, she chose to linger.

Never one to enjoy having others in your personal space, regardless of if you were touch starved, you were thrilled to discover that you didn't mind the witch being so close to you. In fact, the mere thought of being separated from her made your stomach roil with anxiety. Looking at the redhead next to you as you traversed the hallway towards your room for the evening, a new kind of craving overcame you. This one was different from the hunger you had experienced just before dinner, and you realized that you couldn't get enough of the witch’s touch and presence.

Reaching your shared room Wanda finally moves to separate from you, and as she heads opposite from you, her hand falling away, you make a split-second decision. Well. Decision was being generous. More accurately you allowed your impulses to take over, unable to think logically - you couldn’t let Wanda get too far. Not that there was anywhere for her to go in a bedroom you both shared, but your brain wasn’t exactly running on all cylinders at this time.

“Wait!”

You don’t know what, or even if you were thinking, knowing only that in the scant few feet the witch was away from you, your whole world felt like it was collapsing. A lightly calloused hand shot out as you turned to grab her hand again, and in your exuberance, you accidentally ended up yanking the woman towards you. In an unexpected feat of grace surprising both of you, you managed to catch Wanda. Despite her velocity, you were able to use her momentum, spinning both of you. A small jolt of pain wracked through your bones as your back landed harshly against the smooth wall, with Wanda safely in your arms. Chests heaved for air, both of you having fully expected to collide, ending up in a heap on the floor.

After the initial surprise wore off, both women giggled, though neither made a move to separate. “What is it, Y/N?” the older woman asked. Amusement colored her gaze, mixed with something else you couldn’t quite decipher. You were still learning new facial expressions to this day.

“I-” You started then stopped, trying to assemble your thoughts and determine just how vulnerable you were willing to be. “Thank you, Wanda. For today. For… everything. This was..” you trailed off, unable to find the words. “Everything.”

You hoped Wanda would understand what you meant by that even if you yourself weren’t quite sure just yet. What you were sure of is that you wanted to return to Wanda at least a fraction of the care and devotion she had shown you in all this time. You knew you didn’t want her to walk away, heart aching at the concept. What you didn’t know was what you wanted to do next, you hadn’t exactly gotten that far, but you couldn’t stomach the thought of being apart from her.

The redhead’s gaze softened at your words. “You don’t need to thank me, lyubov. You deserve so much, and I just want you to be happy.”

The words “with me” went unspoken, though she was dying to let them out. Instead, well-manicured hands lifted the tips of her fingers to gently push some fallen strands of your hair from your face, as she studied you curiously. A feeling you both were on the precipice of something settled firmly within the witch’s chest. Wanda was fairly confident she knew exactly what that something was, but she wouldn’t plunge you into anything you weren’t yet ready to fall into.

Though certain in her assumptions, Wanda was unable to clearly read your surface thoughts. A jumbled mass of emotions, each thought no more than fleeting before another took its place, your mind was a whirlwind. The next steps had to be taken by you, and if you weren’t up for that yet, the redhead was content with where you both were at this moment.

A palpable tension filled the air, conveying an unspoken awareness that something transformative was about to occur. Anticipation lingered in the atmosphere, creating a delicate blend of nervousness and excitement. There was an understated, magnetic attraction that drew you closer to Wanda. Completely unaware as you were, enthralled by the alluring softness of her lips which stoked a longing within you to know if they felt as velvety as they appeared, you were unconsciously learning forward.

It was a moment of breathless expectation, where time seemed to stretch. The world had fallen away, leaving only the two of you suspended in the beauty of the impending inevitability. Eyes finally connecting with Wanda’s, a silent, mutual understanding was shared, and in that moment, you made a decision.

”May I…?” your voice a husky tremor, thick with emotion.

Never had Wanda found you more endearing than in that moment. Your innocent consideration that you would need to ask her permission after everything. As if she hadn't been waiting for this very moment for so long. As if this wasn’t what she had been waiting for since first discovering the Darkhold, and all the possibilities of a multiverse.

“Please, Y/N.” The witch’s reply was all but a breathy whisper.

As your lips and hers finally connected in a gentle, exploratory kiss, an electric current seemed to pass through their bodies, igniting a fire within your souls. It was a moment of pure magic, a culmination of all the emotions and desires that had been building between you both. Breaths mingled, blending together in a perfect harmony of passion and longing.

The softness of the kiss spoke volumes, revealing a depth of connection that you were certain words could never fully capture. A tender exchange, filled with a delicate balance of vulnerability and trust. Each touch, each movement of Wanda’s lips against yours, was deliberate, as if she was savoring every precious moment of this newfound intimacy with you.

With every passing second, the world around faded away, leaving only the two of you enveloped in a bubble of pure bliss. Time seemed to stand still as you explored this uncharted territory together. A feeling as if something inside, you hadn’t known had been missing, was now perfectly slotted into place. Home.

When it came to kissing you, Wanda marveled at the stark contrasts between your Avenger variant, and you. While your other variant was self-assured, often taking command of a kiss with practiced skill, you, on the other hand, were gentle and tentative. It was evident that you were willing to let Wanda take the lead, which she found incredibly empowering, almost addictive. She knew she should probably take this first kiss slowly for you, however, your submissiveness was simply too delicious for her to pass up such an opportunity.

Long, slender fingers came to rest just under your jaw, firmly holding you close, Wanda using her body to press you harder against the wall, as if trying to merge your two bodies into one. A gasp escaped you at the length of the witch’s body pressed so intimately against you. Wanda, ever opportunistic, took advantage of your open mouth to deepen the kiss, her lithe tongue swiping softly at the seam of your lips in askance.

You couldn’t even fathom a moment where you would ever deny Wanda this request, opening your mouth to grant her the access she desired. Her skillful tongue sensually slid against yours, eliciting a barely suppressed whimper from you. With a little coaxing Wanda was able to entice your tongues to engage in a seductive dance, leaving you breathless and heady.

Eventually, the kiss broke, leaving both of you craving more. It had opened the door to a world of possibilities, and in that moment, everything changed. The bond between the pair of you had deepened more than you could know, and more than Wanda had hoped for. Despite initial reservations, your heart knew then you would follow Wanda anywhere, irrevocably tied to the witch forever. There was no one you wanted or trusted more.

While trying to catch your breath, no words were spoken. Taking this moment, your intrusive thoughts began creeping in because of course they were. Desperately you hoped the woman wouldn’t view the kiss as a mistake, praying that you measured up to your superhero counterpart. That you were truly what she had been looking for all this time, even if you weren’t anything special.

You would do anything to have her lips on yours again, and briefly a thought occurred to you that this woman could murder you, and you would probably thank her for the privilege. Therapy, maybe you should ask Wanda if she could get you in to see a therapist, because that wasn’t concerning at all.

It wasn't in you to feel ashamed just then though, not when the very thought resonated in your soul. Gods, was this what you had been missing your entire life? And it had been right under your nose, for ages you had been unknowingly depriving yourself, hellbent on self-sabotage.

As you finally caught your breath, the witch gazed at you hungrily, causing a shiver to race down your spine.

"What do you want, detka?" Wanda asked, voice sultry. She tilted her head as if curious, but in reality, she was relishing in your disheveled appearance, eyes raking over your blown pupils, and kiss-swollen lips. So responsive for her, and this was only a kiss. Your first kiss with her, to be specific. Wanting to completely ruin you, it took every ounce of self-restraint for Wanda to wait for your answer instead.

Chest heaving, your brain struggled to pull together enough brain cells in order to provide her with an answer. When you finally spoke, your voice had a throaty quality you had never heard before.

”You. I want you.”

Green eyes, the color of jade, sparkled in such delight they could have practically illuminated the room with their vibrant glow. As you stared into her mesmerizing gaze, you got lost in her presence. Your mind was a myriad of thoughts, unable to focus on anything else. Every word she spoke, every movement she made, had a profound impact on you. As if the witch had cast a spell over you, weaving her magic effortlessly, and you willingly succumbed to her enchantment, eager to be under her captivating influence.

A mischievous smile played upon her lips, adding an air of mystery to her already enchanting demeanor. The grin hinted at the hidden depths within her, the playful intentions that lied just beneath the surface. So, as Wanda’s mischievous smile lingered, you couldn't help but be drawn further into her web of enchantment, willingly surrendering yourself to the metaphorical spell she had cast.

"Oh, lyubov, will you let me ruin you?" she asked teasingly, her voice filled with impishness and a hint of excitement.

Swallowing nervously, you felt desire building deep within you. Your experiences in this matter were limited, but you trusted the former avenger all the same. Still, you had a sneaking suspicion that whatever Wanda had in store for you would likely test your limits, even if you had no idea what those were yet. Eagerly, you nodded, ready to throw yourself headlong into this unknown, trusting the witch implicitly.

The moment her silky lips met yours once again, a hunger ignited within her, surprising both of you with its intensity and passion. Wanda pulled you close, her fingers curled in your hair, keeping you in place as she plundered your mouth. You could do little but let her lead the way, trying not to embarrass yourself with how much she was turning you on. Her sharp teeth tugged on your lower lip before biting down hard enough to draw blood. A pitiful whine was barely restrained by you as Wanda lapped at the new wound she had caused.

Deciding to test your boundaries during the kiss, the redhead gently wrapped her other hand around your throat. Not tight enough to cut off your oxygen supply, but the pressure did restrict some of the blood flow to your brain, leaving you in a deliciously foggy haze. A breathy moan escaped you, which Wanda eagerly swallowed as you gladly ceded control of the kiss to her. Pride out the window, you were no longer capable of trying to withhold any sounds she could draw from you. Wanda found it delightful that so far you were proving to be the perfect little котёнок for her. The redhead eagerly anticipated discovering what other surprises you had in store for her.

The other hand not on your neck moved from your hair down to the first button of your shirt and hesitated. “Is this okay, Y/N?” She asked, voice surprisingly soft for someone who currently had one of their hands wrapped around your neck.

Sluggish thoughts hazy with lust, you nodded with what would have probably counted as an embarrassing amount of enthusiasm. Having someone as gorgeous as Wanda in front of you, asking for your consent, you found you couldn’t be bothered by your eagerness. You were a simp, and you were fine with that. Anything to get more of Wanda touching you.

The former Avenger grinned, finding you utterly adorable. She was charmed by how needy you were for her. Unable to help but revel in the power dynamics between you, relishing the opportunity to challenge your blissed-out mind and watch as you struggled to comply with her demands. It was a delightful game for Wanda, and she was going to have fun training you.

Before she could continue though, the witch wanted you to be absolutely sure. Regardless of how long she had waited for you, if you weren’t truly ready, Wanda didn’t want to push you. She wanted all of you, everything you had to give, but if you still weren’t ready, weren’t sure, she could wait. Wanda would wait forever if she had to.

“Lyubov moya, if you want me to stop at any point, just say the word, and I’ll stop immediately, okay? Full stop, I promise, and I won’t be upset with you.” she insisted, voice thick with longing as her nose grazed gently across yours in a reassuring manner.

Even now, Wanda was always putting your safety and happiness as her top priority, endearing her evermore to you. How could you have ever doubted that this woman had anything but your best interests at heart? The purest of intentions?

Knowing it was a bit over dramatic, while you appreciated her reassurances, if the witch didn’t do something in the next few seconds, you felt like you might combust. Releasing a needy whine, you hoped to convey your desperation to Wanda who only chuckled at your behavior.

“Relax, malyshka, I’ll take good care of you, I promise. But first, I need you to use your words, darling.” The hand on your throat easing its grip a little, allowing more blood to your brain, giving you back some of your intellectual capacity.

With Wanda’s body covering yours, you petulantly ground against her in the hopes of achieving any sort of friction, causing her lips to quirk upwards in an amused smirk. You weren’t going to get out of this until she had confirmation of your understanding, and if she happened to tease you into a petulant, writing mess in the process, well, that was just the cherry on top.

Giving in, you let out a keening whimper. “I understand Wands, please. Just touch me. Please!”

A wolfish grin overtook Wanda’s face at your begging. Green eyes locked with yours, and she could see the desire and longing in your eyes, mirroring her own. The way you looked at her, with a mixture of vulnerability and trust, made her heart flutter with a sense of joy and fulfillment. You were willing to surrender yourself to her guidance, to allow her to take the lead and shape you into the person she knew you could become. That kind of implicit trust and faith you had in her shot her arousal through the roof.

With each passing moment, Wanda's excitement grew, knowing that she had the opportunity to train and mold you into her perfect little котёнок. She relished the thought of all the fun games that lay ahead, confident in her ability to guide you towards your full potential. Your willingness to submit to her desires fueled her passion, making her all the more determined to own you completely. This power was the ultimate high, and she didn’t think she could ever get enough of it.

Her hand moved from your throat to wrap around your waist with a firm yet gentle grasp, pulling you closer to her in an undeniable display of ownership. The touch of her hand on your hip sent a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins, igniting a fire within you that you had never experienced before. It was a possessiveness that transcended the boundaries of mere desire, a possessiveness that spoke volumes about the depth of her emotions for you.

Far from being suffocating, her dominance was a testament to the strength of your bond. A tangible manifestation of the passion that burned between the two of you, it was a flame that only grew stronger with each passing moment. Her assertive touch was a declaration, a proclamation of her utter devotion and fierce protectiveness towards you.

In that instant, you couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the intensity of her feelings. A sensation that both thrilled and comforted you, it was a magnetic pull that drew you closer to her with each passing second. Feeling as if you were the center of her universe, the focus of her unfaltering attention, and you visibly preened under her attentiveness. Your hands which were clenching the bottom of her shirt held fast, unwilling to let her move more than a few inches away.

Now that she had your consent and had subtly established your place with her, Wanda's svelte hands returned to the task of unbuttoning your shirt. Unable to resist the allure of your lips for long, she passionately kissed you once again. As your lips moved against each other with a sensual rhythm, Wanda swiftly unbuttoned your shirt. Before you knew it, your shirt was completely undone, revealing your torso to her exploring hands. A shiver ran through your body as her slightly cool palm pressed against your abdomen for the very first time, the gravity of her body pressing you further into the wall. While you had felt her touch on your skin before, it had never been this intimate, this exhilarating.

As her hand glided over your bare skin, heat coursed through your body, the sensation sending shivers down your spine. The flames within you steadily stoked by every caress. Your breath hitched as her touch lingered, tracing delicate patterns along your abdomen.

Growing desperate you deepened the kiss. Your hands instinctively reach for her, moving from the hem of her shirt to tangle in her hair as you pull her closer. The magnitude of the moment was almost too much, feeling the desire consuming you from within.

Wanda's lips slid against yours with a fervent hunger. Her roving hands continued their journey, tracing every curve and contour of your torso with an almost reverent touch, sending pleasure coursing through your body. As your lips moved in perfect synchrony, heightening your senses, it left you yearning for more. The room was filled with a heady mix of desire and anticipation, as you both gave in to the draw of the moment..

Lost in the haze of passion, you couldn't help but give yourself completely to Wanda's touch. The way she explored every inch of your body with a delicate yet possessive hand left you breathless, craving more of her commanding aura. It was a dance of pleasure and surrender, a symphony of sensations that left you craving her touch like a drug. You had never needed anyone or anything as much as you needed Wanda to continue doing whatever she wanted to you.

As the kiss broke, both of you gasped for air. Wanda, still breathing heavily, leaned back to take in the sight of your newly revealed skin, her eyes darkening with want. Though never having been confident in your own body, often choosing to cover up, to hide in your self-consciousness, the way Wanda was looking at you now though left no doubt she liked what she saw. Yet still your insecurities plagued you, especially now that you were no longer covered up and there was nothing for you to hide behind.

The witch didn’t need to read your mind to know where your thoughts were going. The expression on your face, the way you tried to curl in on yourself made it plain. Voice thick with desire, Wanda needed to reassure you. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Y/N. Don’t ever let yourself believe otherwise.”

Though you didn’t truly believe her words, her tone and the way she held you like she couldn’t get enough was almost capable of convincing you in and of itself. You decided then that throwing yourself into this was the fastest way to get out of your head. Throwing caution to the wind, you slammed your lips against Wanda’s again, desperate for more of her.

Impatient, you couldn't resist the urge to guide Wanda's hands lower, craving for her to touch you more. Deft fingers brushed against a particularly sensitive spot, sending a surge of pleasure shooting through you, and tearing a quiet gasp from your mouth. Your body responded eagerly to her every caress, arching into her hands, silently begging for more. Emboldened by your response, Wanda's touch grew daring, her kisses to your neck pressing harder leaving red welts that would purple over by tomorrow. Her marks on you would tell all who you belonged to. Her fingers began exploring your body with a newfound confidence. The touch was both gentle and possessive, leaving you with the utter clarity that she wanted to mark every inch of you as her own, even the parts of you no one else would ever see.

The room was filled with the sound of your shared breaths, heavy with desire. Feeling the urgency building within you, your body pressed closer to Wanda's, seeking to ease some of the pressure within. Her touch was all at once overwhelming yet not enough.

Determined to elicit every delicious sound she could from you, one of Wanda's hands finally moved to your breast. Gently she cupped it while her thumb teased you by gliding around your areola, avoiding your hardened bud. She took great enjoyment in your whimpers and gasps as she teased you. If she had it her way, she would keep you like this, never giving you quite what you wanted. Wanda would ease you into that eventually though. For now, this was enough.

Eventually she had mercy on you, letting her thumb lightly graze across your nipple. A deep, throaty groan emanated from within you, your hips bucking against hers, unbidden. Taking the opportunity you had presented her with, Wanda slotted her knee between your thighs, applying firm pressure just where you needed it most. You whispered an exhaled curse as your head slumped forward onto the older woman’s shoulder. Your grip on her tightened, the urge to just rut against Wanda’s leg nearly overpowering what little was left of your rational mind.

Wanda could feel the subtle grinding of your hips against her leg, and she encouraged it, pressing harder each time you arched towards her. The witch grasped your hips firmly, helping to set your rhythm as you desperately sought more friction between the apex of your thighs.

For someone who hadn't even taken off their pants yet, you were surprisingly worked up, but you were far too focused on chasing your high to be overly concerned about it. Sensing how close you were, Wanda pulled away from you, calling forth a keening whine from you. The older woman chuckled softly at your desperation. Her raspy voice next to your ear made you shudder.

"Patience, dorogoya, I don't want you to come just yet unless it's in my mouth or on my fingers."

Wholly unprepared for her words as you were, they almost single-handedly threatened to ruin the witch’s plans as you nearly came on the spot. Wanda was aware that you had likely never edged before, and while she should have shown some mercy, she found no enjoyment in that prospect. Her intention was to have you so drunk for her to the point where you would become a helpless, trembling wreck, willing to do anything she desired just to reach that peak. Then, she planned to repeatedly push you off that ledge so many times that you would be a boneless, quivering mess for her by the time she was done with you.

As her words hung in the air, you felt a mixture of anticipation and hesitation. This was a new territory for you, one that you weren't entirely sure of what you were getting into. But as you looked into Wanda's eyes, filled with desire and a touch of mischief, you couldn't deny your feelings. You wanted to experience everything she was willing to show you, to give yourself fully and trust in her to guide you through this journey of pleasure.

With a deep breath, you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper, "I trust you, Wanda."

A smug smile played on Wanda's lips as she gently held your cheek. "Good," she purred, her voice laced with satisfaction. "I promise you won't regret it. Now, let’s take this to the bed.” She didn’t want your first time together to be rutting up against a wall.

Wanda grasped your hand, leading you the remainder of the distance to your shared bed. Once there the witch assisted you in removing the remnants of your clothes, gently pushing you backwards onto the bed. Before joining you, she took a moment to admire your naked body, as you looked up at her with a combination of desire and excitement. You were uncertain of her intentions, but the fact that you were willing to trust her filled Wanda's heart with joy.

With a gaze that could only be described as ravenous, she studied you and quietly uttered a curse. "Fucking exquisite" she husked, hoping to drive home her words from earlier.

Squirming under her intense gaze, you blushed deeply at her compliment. No one had ever called you that before, not in your entire life. The longer you laid there, alone under her scrutiny, the greater your need for Wanda grew. Before you could ask her to rejoin you, she was already removing her own clothes with purpose. You waited with bated breath, as Wanda revealed her body which you swore could have been sculpted by Michelangelo himself. Honestly, you thought it was a little unfair for someone to look so perfect. You felt absolutely privileged to be in this moment with her, that she had chosen you of all people to witness her glory. No one you had ever seen, in person or even on tv could compare. Wanda was a goddess, and you wanted to worship at her altar.

The redhead knew she was an attractive woman, but your loud thoughts were giving her quite the ego boost. She had you right where she wanted you, but Wanda would be damned if she allowed your self-deprecation to continue. There was not a single doubt in her mind that you were equally deserving to be here with her.

“Your thoughts are loud, malyshka.” She almost giggled at how red your face turned when she called you out, reminding you of her powers, and your gaze dropped.

“While I’m flattered, darling, you need to know.” Wanda said with certainty as she began crawling up the bed towards you. Once she had crawled up the length of your body, the witch trailed her fingertips along your thigh, and up your torso to your face. Curling a graceful finger under your chin, she tilted your face upwards until you made eye contact.

“You are stunning, lyubov moya. There is no one else I would want to be here with right now. Not in the entire multiverse, believe me, I’ve looked. No one but you. Can you trust me on that, Y/N?”

Green eyes searched Y/E/C for any sign of lingering insecurity. With the witch looking at you so earnestly, your doubts faded into the background. They would likely never be completely silent, but in this moment, those thoughts were just white noise. Speaking was currently too difficult for you so instead you simply nodded at her words.

No longer able to hear your uncertainty as loudly, Wanda felt you were ready to continue. “Good, but just to make sure, I’m going to show you.”

Before you could ask what she meant, Wanda kissed you again. Her hand, which was previously under your chin, caressed down your chest and cupped your breast. She gave it a gentle squeeze, causing a soft sound to escape your throat.

As Wanda's touch re-ignited the flicker of pleasure within you, her lips and tongue traced a path of heated kisses down your neck, leaving a hot trail of saliva behind. Her skilled hand continued to explore your body, evoking an oeuvre of gasps and moans. Eventually, her lips settled on one of the places you desired the most, enveloping your nipple.

Once Wanda's lips closed around your hardened bud, a jolt of pleasure shot through your body, causing you to arch your back in response. Her tongue teased and circled the sensitive bud, sending ecstasy pulsating through your veins. While Wanda continued to lavish attention on your aching nipple, her other hand trailed down your body, caressing and exploring every inch of your skin. The combination of her skilled touch and the intense pleasure coursing through your body made it difficult to think or focus on anything else.

Her hand continued its exploration, gliding over your skin with a feather-light touch. Every brush of her fingertips, each flick of her tongue against you sent your arousal to new heights. Your senses were completely consumed by her, the world around you fading once again into a distant blur.

Completely at Wanda's mercy, you found yourself basking in her every touch and caress. The pleasure she was bestowing upon you was the best high you had ever felt, addictive and irresistible. Your mind was filled with a primal need, a craving for more of the pleasure that only she could provide.

Wanda switched breasts, moving to lavish attention on the other one ensuring it didn't feel neglected. Her hand continued to tease your flesh, raising goosebumps to form on your skin.

Unable to sit still, your own hands came up to tangle themselves in the redhead’s hair. Head held firmly in place by you, Wanda's hand slid lower, exploring the wetness that had pooled between your thighs. Svelte fingers teased your entrance, and you gasped as the anticipation nearly undid you. Back arched, begging for more, you whispered a “please!”

Helpless to deny your plea, Wanda's fingers dipped inside you, your slick allowing them to slide in with ease. You moaned lowly as she began to move her fingers in a slow, deliberate rhythm, curling and stroking against your most sensitive spots. The pleasure built within you, radiating through your body like an electric current.

Your hands tightened in her hair, pulling her closer to you as your hips instinctively rocked against her hand, seeking deeper pleasure. Wanda matched your movements, her pace increasing, driving you closer to the edge. Her lips found yours once again, swallowing your moans as the pleasure consumed you.

The room was filled with the sound of your shared breaths, the wet, almost obscene sound of her fingers moving inside you, and the symphony of your pleasure. Each stroke of her fingers sent you spiraling further into this rapturous euphoria, your body trembling with desire.

Lost in the carnality of the moment, you could feel the heat building within you, the pressure mounting until you were teetering on the edge. Sensing your imminent release, Wanda's fingers quickened their pace, driving you towards oblivion. Moans growing louder, they mingled with the sound of your ragged breaths.

“Are you gonna come for me baby?” She asked, voice dripping sweetly with lust, not letting up the pace even a little. The woman knew what she was doing to you, and couldn’t resist drawing it out just a bit.

Beneath her, you squirmed and bucked in place, desperation eeking off you in waves. You hadn’t exactly had many partners to begin with, and you had certainly never been especially vocal with any of them. Wanda couldn't have you being all shy on her now though. She wanted to hear each and every sound she could possibly draw out of you as proof of how good she was making you feel, her fingers hitting that special spot deep inside of you that had always been just out of your own reach.

“Now dorogaya, use your words. Are you going to be a good girl and come for me? If you can’t answer me then I guess I should stop.” Wanda slowed her pace and you all but wailed your frustration.

“Yes, yes I’m going to come. I’m so close, Wands, please don’t stop!”

Truthfully that should have been enough for her but sadistically she wanted to push your boundaries further still. She smirked at your pleas.

“I won’t stop, Y/N, but you can’t come until I give you permission.”

You didn’t think you had ever been on such a precipice of euphoria before. It was right there if only Wanda would let you. Part of you wanted to ignore what she said and let yourself go, but the part of you that yearned to be good for her won out in the end.

You begged pitifully. “Please Wanda, please let me come! I’ll be your good girl, please, just let me come!” You would say anything the woman wanted as long as she would let you finally finish.

It was positively sinful how your submission made Wanda feel. She wanted to experience you like this every day for the rest of your lives. The tremor of your voice as you begged, how quickly and completely you accepted her commands, it was positively sublime.

“Well when you beg so prettily for me, how can I resist? Be a good girl, Y/N - come for me.” Her fingers curled deliciously, mercilessly hitting your new favorite spot.

With Wanda’s permission, the world shattered around you as your orgasm crashed over. Your body convulsed with exquisite hedonism, every nerve ending alive with sensation. Wanda's name were the only words from your mouth as you rode the high, your orgasm careening over you in a tidal wave of pleasure.

For Wanda, feeling your wet heat tighten around her fingers, practically refusing to allow her to pull back to even help you through your peak, was so perfect. You didn’t know it, but it was enough to make Wanda topple over the edge alongside you, her head dropping to the crook of your neck while she whispered sweet nothings in your ear, struggling to bring you gently down from your high.

As the aftershocks of your release subsided, Wanda gently withdrew her fingers, her touch lingering for a moment before she pressed a soft kiss to your lips. She held you close, her presence a comforting anchor as you came down from the heights of pleasure. You whimpered at the feeling of emptiness after being so joyously full.

Breathless and sated, you nestled into her embrace, feeling a profound sense of contentment and connection. And as you lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, you felt that this was just the beginning of something beautiful between you both. You had made the decision to trust Wanda with your body, heart, and soul, and in this moment, everything felt so right.

Wanting to return the favor, and make Wanda feel as good as you did, but as you tried to shift in her embrace, the former avenger simply held you tighter. Feeling rejected, you wilted in her arms. Perhaps you had already failed to live up to her expectations, so much so that she didn’t even want you to touch her. How heartbreaking to have failed so soon, to never get the chance to prove yourself.

Voice soft, Wanda alleviates your fears. “Not tonight, darling. Tonight was all about you. Rest with me for a little while, detka, I just want to hold you. May I do that, Y/N?”

Murmuring a quiet assent, you settled into the comfort Wanda provided. You both laid there, basking in the intimacy you both had just shared, feeling content and happy. It wasn’t long until your eyes began to droop, signifying you were about to nod off.

Sensing how close you were to sleep, the witch gently roused you. She giggled at your grumblings for the disruption but insisted you both needed to clean up. Shaking your head, you whined as you tried to hold her in place with you, unwilling to let her go for any reason. Wanda had to actively restrain herself from cooing at your adorable stubbornness.

“Come on now, it’ll be just a few minutes and then we can go back to sleep, okay darling?”

Petulantly you shook your head, and Wanda full on belly laughed, holding you tightly to her while she did so. Her laughter was infectious, and you couldn’t help but chuckle as well, knowing you were being a bit ridiculous.

Eventually, both of you calmed down, and Wanda pulled away from your embrace, mentioning that she would be right back. You let her go, but you pouted the entire time she was in the bathroom. After a few moments, you could hear the sink running, and then the witch returned to you with a warm, damp washcloth in her hand. With an unprecedented level of care, Wanda cleaned between your legs, removing any trace of the night's activities, while being mindful not to overstimulate you.

“There we go, detka. All clean. Let me just throw this in the sink, and we can go to sleep.”

Doing exactly as she had said, Wanda quickly returned, swiftly maneuvering her way into the cozy bed beside you. With a few gentle movements, she skillfully arranged the soft sheets to envelop both of you, creating a warm and comfortable cocoon.

Once she was finished setting up the sheets, you wasted no time in crawling back into her arms, burying your face into the divot where her neck and shoulder met. You felt like you had been through the wringer, but in the best way. When she had gotten up to clean you both, with her no longer being in your arms, your emotions had run all over the place. Now all you wanted was to be as physically close to the redhead as possible, to reassure yourself that she wasn’t abandoning you after such a vulnerable act.

Wanda was not at all opposed. Quite thrilled in fact, and as she held you, one hand came to gingerly trace random shapes along the side of your face, whispering nonsensical words of love and solace. Pillowy lips placed a soft kiss to your forehead.

As you drifted off to sleep, feeling safer and happier than in your entire life, you heard Wanda whisper in her native tongue. You were curious, but too far gone to ask her what she meant.

“я так люблю тебя, дорогая. (I love you so much, darling.) I promise I will always keep you safe, and I will never let you go.”

A/N 2: ... Why do I have a higher word count for a chapter with smut than any other chapter? .... Reasons. We're going with "reasons". So uhhh... yay? nay? Yeet myself off a cliff? Also if anyone wants to be added to the taglist just lemme know in the comments.

Taglist: @dorabledewdroop

#Wanda maximoff x reader #dark!wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x f!reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #dark!wanda maximoff #dark!wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #dark wanda x reader #yandere!Wanda #yandere wanda maximoff #wanda x y/n #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader

169 notes · View notes

imagining-in-the-margins · 2 years

Text

Clean Lovin' (S.R.)

Summary: Spencer and Reader have sex in the shower.

Request: Spencer and Reader end up doing it in the shower because Spencer is a horny little shit and can’t keep his hands to himself Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Shower sex, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, mild blasphemy, religious themes (confession) Word Count: 1k

MASTERLIST

Showers are meant to be cleansing. Within glossy tiles and ornate fabric, there lies the confession, the begging to be cleansed.

Sometimes, though, forgiveness is not the only thing that’s sought. Sometimes, it is the intimacy of letting someone else see you still dripping with evidence of your humanity; the vulnerability of asking someone else to wash the sins from your skin.

But if that afternoon rinse was about cleanliness, Spencer didn’t get the message.

He has no qualms with cleaning you. In fact, he covers his hands with soap and starts touching you before your hair is even fully wet.

You almost chastise him for his eagerness, but it’s hard to find any fault in him when his hands are warm when they glide over sensitive skin.

He is gentle—at first. Even when he massages the knotted muscles of your back, he is careful to keep you happy and pliant.

Once he’s finished with your back, he makes it clear he’s moving on. With his palms against your breasts, he pulls you closer until you rest against his chest.

At the same time, though, he slips his already aching cock between the wet, pillowy skin of your thighs. His fingers press tighter against your chest, massaging the tissue betwixt devilish fingers.

“Fuck,” he whispers under his breath but directly into your ear, “You’re so soft.”

His hips buck between your legs, but his fingers continue to rub lazy, undulating circles around your breasts.

You can hardly breathe, and you know it wasn’t from the steam. The same way that you know the lukewarm water can’t burn the way his hands do. Still, you try to keep your wits about you.

There were still parts of you that Spencer hadn’t paid enough attention to… yet.

“I think they’re clean, Spencer,” you chuckle.

His hands stop but they don’t move away. Instead, he crushes your bodies together without moving. The leftover soap stuck between you makes your skin slick enough that you have to brace yourself with a hand on the wall.

It was a good thing you do, too, because Spencer’s response nearly brings you to your knees.

Through clenched teeth, he growls, “There’s nothing clean about what I want to do to you right now.”

You can’t speak, so you answer with a pitiful whimper. He rewards the sound with a wandering hand. While he continues to worship one breast, his other hand glides down your stomach until it settles at the space between your legs.

He cups your heat and pants heavily in your ear. His hips continue to grind against you, continuing to enjoy the softer parts of you.

After a moment of fervent appreciation, his fingers move between heated folds. There, within the warmth of you, he finds a wetness unlike the water flowing down your bodies.

“Fuck,” he groans again. His fingers sink deeper inside you, exploring and enjoying the ease with which you accept him. His breath is heavier, his tone is darker as he continues, “You’re this wet, and you’re teasing me?”

“I’m sorry,” you choke.

You give in immediately because there is nothing you want more than for him to continue. This is your confession, your begging to be cleansed.

“If you’re really sorry…” he whispers with a trembling voice that betrays his stoicism.

He wants you just as badly as you want him. You can feel the shared desire pulsing between your legs. You can feel his lust in the form of a firm hand pressing hard between your shoulder blades.

“Bend over,” he orders.

You are eager to obey. You are sad for the distance it requires, but you are happy to feel his hands on your hips. He does it to hold you steady, but he also uses it as an excuse to dig his fingers into your skin until he couldn’t take it anymore.

Spencer’s hand abandons you in favor of his cock. He strokes himself with the same hand that had been inside you, and he savors the feeling of your obedience.

Slowly, he presses himself against your entrance. He gives a few small thrusts, fighting the resistance caused by the water as it tries to wash away sinful feelings. It fails. With one brutal thrust, Spencer forces himself to the hilt inside you. Over the water, you hear the way his moans echo in the stall.

“That’s my girl,” he strains between breaths, “Let me take care of you.”

He throws his head back at the same time his hips thrust forward. Each motion is intensified by the way he moves you just as much as he moves himself. Every time his hips snap forward, he forces yours back.

He fucks you with a bruising force. He’s rewarded once more with the sounds of your pleasure. With pathetic mewls and guttural sobs, you sing his praise.

He tries to stay gentle, but he can’t control himself when he sees—he feels—all of your limbs shaking. He is watching you come undone, so vulnerable and still seeking depravity.

“This is what you wanted, right?” he growls, “You want me to make you dirty?”

“Yes,” you answer without thinking, “Yes, I want you to make me whatever you want.”

The mindless confession, the desperation in your voice sends him into a frenzy. His thrusts somehow become even more ruthless. Your feet are barely able to stay on the ground from the sheer force of his hips against yours.

You cry out his name in different variations. “Spencer,” you say at times, “Oh, God,” you say at another.

All you know is that you can’t take it much longer. You’re about to collapse, to fall into the oceans of endless bliss.

Just before you fall limp in his arms, however, he joins you where you are. His arms wrap around you; his hands cradle your chest with love instead of lust. He relieves your weary muscles of the strain and holds you against his chest, instead.

With a staggered thrust, he fills you. You feel the gentle throbbing, the pooling warmth that feels like salvation. He continues with lazy movements. He bucks tired hips into you because he can’t bear to let you go just yet.

Eventually, though, he does. He settles you on shaky legs.

He once again fills his hands with soap.

Spencer is the one to fall to his knees. He kneels beside you and works his trembling hands over your thighs. He cares for you, cleans you with the utmost tenderness, exactly as he’d promised he would.

When he is finished, he presses a hard kiss against clean, pillowy skin.

“Still so soft,” he hums against your thigh.

“And clean,” you laugh.

That is, until he answers, “For now.”

It isn’t the worst fate.

There will always be other showers.

(Tell me what you thought about this fic here!)

Looking for more to read? Check out my Masterlist here!

Reid Taglist (Everything Reid): @mrs-dr-reid , @dreatine , @hopefulfangirl24 , @laurakirsten0502 , @dontcallmekittens , @rintheemolion , @andreasworlsboring101 , @imsuperawkward , @wentz2005 , @lovejules888 , @dashneydanger , @materialisthicc , @violetspoetic , @mslowlife

Complete Taglist (All Works): @cynbx , @emsma11 , @mediocre-writer , @fightingdragonswithwho , @andiebeaword , @jayyeahthatsme

Thanks for reading!

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid/you #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fandom #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfiction

913 notes · View notes

imaginedisish · 2 years

Text

Sparks (Din Djarin x fem!Reader)

A/N: HELLLOOOO everyone!!! Here is the Din Djarin x reader fic I said I’d post. This is my first fic in a few months so please forgive me. I am exhausted, and I’ve been writing this throughout my day (may or may not have been writing and editing in class). Thus, this may be incredibly sloppy. I am so sorry. HOWEVER, this is incredibly SMUTTY so minors SCRAM! I hope you guys enjoy. The song I reference is “Sparks” by Coldplay and it very much inspired this....but so did Cardigan by Taylor Swift. Anyway...enough of me talking...ENJOY!

Summary: Din looking out for you turns into so much more than either of you could have ever imagined (featuring *there’s only one bed*).

Warnings: Major pining, Jedi!reader, SMUT so 18+, cursing, PIV, fingering/oral (f!receiving) no mentions of birth control so WRAP it before you TAP IT FOLKS, references to canon typical violence and injuries, idiots to lovers, crest still exists bc im a lazy writer... I think that’s it...

Word Count: 3,221

The stars flash by the Crest in a streaky, messy blur. The light reflects off the beskar clad man next to you. The conversation had died down a half an hour ago. Now you and Din sat in warm, comfortable silence. You should really head to your bunk, but you don’t want to. You’re fighting to keep your eyes open at this point. You feel like a child on the back of a speeder, confidently telling their parents they aren’t tired, that they won’t fall asleep on the way home this time. Every second you get with Din counts, even if it means falling asleep in the cockpit and waking up with a sore back. The uncomfortable chair was worth the reward of just being next to him.

But you’d never let him know that. You couldn’t.

It probably went against his code. Or even worse, there’s always the chance he doesn’t feel the same. The thought alone makes your heart sink to the pit of your stomach. You quickly shake it off and glance over at Din. His visor is set on the deep space in front of you.

“You’re tired,” He says, his modulated voice breaking the silence.

“No, I most certainly am not,” You jokingly insist, shifting slightly underneath the blanket he had gotten for you just a few minutes ago.

“Sure you aren’t, cyar’ika,” He chuckles softly. He knows he’s right, and you do too. But you don’t want to fall asleep, not now. Not when he’s next to you, teasing you, leading you on. It doesn’t matter if this ends in heartbreak. You just want to be with him, to hear his voice, to feel him near you.

You smirk at him, and you hope he’s smirking back underneath that helmet of his. “I’m fine, really,” You insist, your smirk turning into an appreciative smile. He nods and turns back towards the stars ahead.

You quietly wish he was still looking at you.

And then, he breaks the silence again. “Your back is gonna hurt tomorrow if you fall asleep out here,” He says softly, intently. Your heart drums away rapidly in your chest. “Don’t need you getting more hurt than you already do because of me…” He trails off. There’s a sense of sadness in his voice. “I’m supposed to look out for you.”

You know exactly what he’s talking about. The blaster shot, just a week ago. Your hand finds its way underneath your shirt, rubbing softly at the wrap Din had resecured over the injury earlier this morning while you were still on Tatooine.

“Din,” You whisper, inching to the edge of your chair to be closer to him. “I’m here because I chose to be, because I want to be,” You pause for a second to stop yourself from giving away more than you mean to. “And I’d be getting into trouble no matter what, with or without you,” You joke. It was true. Maybe it wouldn’t be bounty hunting, and it certainly wouldn’t be Jedi stuff like your parents had tried to force you to learn throughout your childhood, but it would’ve been something.

If you were to be completely honest, one thing you’re fully convinced of is that whatever it would be, it would always be with Din, in every universe, every timeline. Something called you to him, clung you to him. The stars, the force, something. Whatever it was, it kept you here.

He turns his helmet towards you and stares in silence for a few seconds. Your heart flutters uncontrollably in your chest at the attention. You could feel heat rising to your cheeks. He takes a hand off the controls and reaches towards you, resting his hand on your own.

“Thank you,” He mutters through his vocoder. He’s rarely ever this open, this vulnerable with you.

“You don’t have to thank me for being honest,” You whisper, practically unintelligibly. Your nerves are getting the best of you. One more move from Din and you’ll melt into a puddle of words you’ll never be able to take back.

He squeezes your hand softly and pulls away. Somehow, your hand has never felt colder than it does in this very moment.

After a few minutes, his voice fills the cockpit once again. “Just don’t fall asleep out here, ‘kay? Take the bunk if you’re tired. You need rest.” Despite the modulator there’s a warmth in his voice. You could swear there’s even a hint of care, possibly even love…

No, You think to yourself. Maybe you should head to the bunk. Maybe you do need space from Din. What are you supposed to do when you can’t hold these stupid feelings back anymore? What are you supposed to do when the inevitable happens, when he delivers that final crushing blow, ‘I don’t feel that way about you, I’m sorry.’ You stare off into the distance. You could feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. You were doomed from the start. So foolish, so fucking foolish, You think.

“You okay?” Din’s words yank you from your thoughts. He’s staring at you again, and you’re more than positive that there’s a look of concern hidden beneath that visor.

All you can muster is a quiet yes and a subtle nod. Din nods back, but you know he’s not quite buying it. He looks towards the control panel, quickly flicking some lever on. Your eyes are too heavy to pay attention to what he’s actually doing. “I know I’m not as…open as you,” He pauses for a second, debating what to say next, “But if something’s wrong, I’m here. You can talk to me.”

“I know,” You whisper back. And Maker, did you want to.

The cockpit finally succumbs to comfortable silence once again. Despite your endlessly wandering mind, it was even harder to stay awake now. Thinking about all the possibilities and paths was far too overwhelming. It took up more energy than you had. So, just as Din expected, you drift off to sleep, your exhaustion finally taking hold.

He looks over at you, curled up against the co-pilot’s chair, laying on your side, facing him. You had fallen asleep; he knew you would. You always did. Din smirks, you never did listen. He loved that about you, your stubbornness, your independence. He knows you can’t stay like that though, sleeping on that rigid chair, but he doesn’t want to wake you up. You barely sleep enough as it is.

He stands up from the pilot’s chair and walks over towards you, carefully taking your legs under one arm and your upper body under the other. He scoops you up and walks out of the cockpit and towards the one and only bunk on the Crest.

You can feel the cold beskar against your side, your skin slightly exposed as your shirt rides up your stomach. You absent-mindedly nestle into Din’s chest, your eyes slowly fluttering open.

“Din?” You whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck. Part of you thinks this isn’t real, that you’re dreaming, and you’ll wake up in the co-pilot’s chair alone.

He shushes you softly, his thumb gently rubbing circles into your shoulder. “I’ve got you, cyare.” His voice is calmer than usual, more relaxed. “You fell asleep in the cockpit.” He approaches the bunk, loosening his hold on you ever-so-slightly as he carefully places you down onto the bed. But you don’t let go of him, you want to keep him close.

Once he’s sure you’re secure in the bunk, his hands slide out from under your body and up to where your arms rest around his neck. He doesn’t let go. It isn’t until you feel his fingers brushing against your bare arms that you realize his gloves are off.

Maybe now is the time to test the waters. You can feel the word vomit coming up, burning your metaphorical and emotional esophagus. And Maker, do you wish he’d just lay down with you, sleep next to you. Maybe the risk is worth the reward.

“Would you stay with me?” The words finally leave your lips. You’re shocked at your ability to ask a question like that. You had never shared the bunk before. One of you always slept in the cockpit. “You should rest too,” You say, trying to cover up your true intentions.

Din shifts a bit in his spot, but he still doesn’t let go of you. You can see the gears turning in his head. “Okay,” He decides. You practically gasp with shock, and you embarrassingly do your best to hide it.

He takes his armor off, but not his helmet, like he always does. You’ll never get over how he looks without his chest plate, his broad shoulders, his tan skin. You move further into the bunk, giving Din space to climb in next to you. He shuts the door to the bunk, and only once the tiny space has been encased in darkness does he remove his helmet.

You’re up against one another, face to face, no space in between – not even an inch. You’d never been with him when he didn’t have his helmet on. Your stomach does a backflip at the thought that he feels safe taking it off with you, even if it’s in the darkness.

He hesitantly drags his hand up to your waist, resting it softly just above your hip. “Is this okay, cyare?” You had never heard his voice unmodulated. It’s clearer, unadulterated. Honey, golden, but still somehow rough. You want to replay every word that he says.

You hum a yes into the darkness. You nervously bring your hand up to his neck, waiting briefly for him to protest – but he doesn’t. “What’s that mean, cyare?” You ask, struggling to pronounce the word.

He takes a few seconds before answering your question. You can’t help but think that you’ve pressed too far. “Don’t worry about it,” He says finally. Yep, pressed too far, you think to yourself.

You quickly remove your hand from his neck, immediately realizing that you’ve crossed a million boundaries all within a matter of seconds. “I’m sorry I just-,”

He grabs your hand before you can get too far away from him. “It means beloved,” He says curtly. “And cyar’ika,” He pauses, and you can hear him swallow harshly. “It means sweetheart.”

You try not to overthink his confessions, or translations rather. They could just be meaningless pet names that have absolutely nothing to do with how he feels for you. Why get riled up only to be brought back down?

But then again, there’s no avoiding this forever, and there’s no time like the present.

“Din,” You whisper. You’re not sure you can finish your sentence. You can feel his breath brush against your lips. “I…” You trail off, noticing how much the bunk smells like him, musk and spice and something else you can’t quite place.

“What is it, mesh’la?” He asks.

You laugh anxiously to yourself. “You didn’t tell me what that one means,” You say, trying to stall, to buy time.

“I’ll tell you once you tell me what’s on your mind,” He says coolly, as if none of this is affecting him. He knows what he’s doing.

You take a deep breath. “I think about you Din,” You mumble nervously. “All the time, and I think I-,”

He cuts you off, stealing the words from you, as if he could read your mind. “I love you.”

His lips come crashing down onto yours in the darkness. The kiss isn’t rushed or hurried, but there’s a hunger to it, a feeling you’ve never felt before. Din wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer to him – if that’s even possible.

You’re almost upset when he comes up for air. It isn’t enough, you need more. You want to be forged to him somehow, irreversibly, and irrevocably sealed to one another.

“I love you,” You say to him, breathing heavily, your heart beating out of your chest.

“I know,” He says back, his lips meeting yours once again.

His hand slips under your shirt, his thumbs dragging against your skin. Heat rushes to your core and you can’t help but let out a soft moan – after all, you and Din are far beyond touch starved.

He pushes himself up and over you so that you’re held down underneath him. Your hands explore his entire body, his waist, his stomach, his abs, until you finally reach his face. You find his lips with the tips of your fingers. Din peppers them with kisses as you glide upwards towards his nose, then the bags under his eyes, his forehead. You wished you could see his face, but for now this would do. This was more than enough. This was more than you could have ever asked for.

“Wanted this for so long, cyare,” Din says between breaths. He burrows his head into your neck, nipping at the exposed skin. “Wanted you this whole time,” He says, his lips pressed against your ear. It sends a shiver down your spine.

His hands move further up your body, pushing under your bra. “Please Din,” You mumble. “Need you.” And that’s all the permission he needs. He pushes your shirt up and over your head, throwing it somewhere in the mess of bunk, along with your bra.

He rolls his thumb over one nipple before moving to the other. “You’re so fucking perfect, so beautiful,” He sighs, pinching your nipple slightly before trailing down towards the waist band of your shorts. He tugs on the fabric and dips his hand inside. He feels the outside of your panties, already soaked through. “I’ve barely touched you and you’re already so wet for me mesh’la.”

You squirm underneath him. You need him to touch you, to do something, anything. “Din,” You mutter. “I-,”

Before you can finish your sentence, he’s yanking your shorts and your panties down your legs. He climbs back over you, his hand trailing up your inner thigh before diving into your folds and settling on your clit.

“Wanna make you come, pretty girl,” He whispers against your ear, his fingers making quick work of rubbing your clit. You can feel yourself clenching around nothing. His words alone could send you over the edge.

You shudder under his touch as he quickens his pace. “Feels s’good,” You moan into his mouth as his lips come down onto yours.

“Doing so good for me,” Din murmurs. “Being such a good girl.” You can feel yourself getting closer and closer as Din’s fingers press harder against your clit, circling faster. You throw your head back and moan his name.

Then, out of nowhere, Din’s hand leaves your heat. You need more, you need to feel him. “Please don’t stop,” You beg shamelessly. The covers shuffle as he moves, and you can feel the weight of the mattress sink a bit.

He doesn’t give you much time to grieve the loss of his fingers, his tongue dragging up the inside of your thigh. “Oh fuck,” You whimper as Din’s mouth meets your heat. You can feel his beard softly scratching against your legs. He brings his fingers towards your folds, pushing inside. “S-shit,” You stutter as Din pumps two fingers in and out of you.

His tongue alternates between swirling around your core and sucking roughly against your clit. “You taste so good, so fucking good,” Din’s voice vibrates against you, making it harder to hold on. “Can’t wait to be inside of you.” His fingers pick up their merciless pace, pumping in and out.

“Din, I-I can’t…” You trail off, unable to finish your sentence. You’re on the brink, you can’t hold back any longer.

“I’ve got you, pretty girl,” Din coos. He laps at your folds in between sentences. “Let go for me mesh’la.”

You feel your walls tightening around his fingers as waves of searing hot pleasure wash over you. “Din!” You cry out, his fingers still pushing in and out of your folds, his mouth still sucking softly against you. He slows his pace as you come down from your high before finally pulling away from you.

He pushes himself back on top of you, his forehead coming up to rest against yours. You reach down, your fingertips brushing against his erection.

“Need you inside of me, Din, please,” You beg, jerking him off gently through his pants. Din groans audibly, and you stop for a moment to hook your fingers under his waistband. Din helps you, shoving them and his boxers down his legs and casting them off into the mess that you two had made.

He grabs his cock in his hand, jerking it off a few times before lining himself up with your entrance. You can feel the head of his length as he pushes through your folds and sinks all the way inside you. You can feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as he fills you up. He moans your name, and it hangs in the air, reverberates against the walls of the bunk.

“So fucking tight for me,” He groans, pulling himself out of you to pump back in and bottom out. He’s so deep inside of you, hitting the right spot with each thrust. “You feel so good.” You clench around his length at the sound of his voice.

He reaches down, the tips of his fingers once again finding their way to your clit. Din immediately begins rubbing rough circles, just as he did before. He finds his pace, rutting in and out of you rhythmically. It isn’t long until you feel yourself growing closer to your peak.

“Din,” You sigh, barely able to get a word out. “I’m so close.”

“M-me too, pretty girl,” Din stutters, somehow finding a way to pump into you harder and faster. “F-fuck, taking me so well.” He presses harder into your clit, circling around your core. You bring your hands up to his back, digging your nails down into his skin. It was too much. You could feel yourself getting closer with each thrust. You can feel your walls tightening uncontrollably around him. “That’s it, good girl. Come for me.” And you can’t help but give in.

“D-Din!” You practically scream his name, coming undone around him. You throw your head back, seeing sparks and stars as you hit your peak. Din is close behind, his pace growing sloppier as he comes inside you. He slowly thrusts in and out before pulling out.

He takes a deep breath, his forehead coming down to rest on yours.

“You’re so perfect,” He whispers, his breath ghosting your nose. “Shouldn’t have waited so long to do that…” He trails off, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

“I love you Din,” You say, still out of breath. “I always have. I would’ve waited longer if I had to.”

He kisses you again, even gentler than last time. “I always knew you’d be the death of me,” He chuckles. You can feel his laugh vibrate through his face, through his whole body. No beskar, no hiding. “And I promise, I will always love you, cyar’ika…

“Always.”

Yeah, I saw sparks

And I saw sparks

Yeah, I saw sparks

1K notes · View notes

pandorasfavorite · 5 months

Note

heyyyy sooo I’ve been thinking about this forever as my pre fall asleep routine, I was gonna make it into my own full blown fan fic on Wattpad but I’ve never wrote before and I’m kinda lazy lol buttt I was wondering could you do a imagine where the reader is a female and in the shield (imagine the shield and judgement day are around at the same time) and anyways they are fighting the judgement day and they hate each other but the reader sees dom take a really hard blow and runs to check on him in the middle of the match but it’s a trick and dom pins her and wins , then later that night when they are in their locker rooms Roman Seth and dean are all fighting and mad at the reader and yelling at her , and like she leaves the locker room upset and dom sees and goes to apologize and it’s like angst but she forgives him at the end plzzzzz <333 I love love love ur writing

The Shield - The Mistake

AN: I'm working two jobs so posts will be slow. pls, bear with me through these hard times frl.

You loved your life, your group, the outfits, the vibe, and everything presented in front of you. Most of all you loved Seth, Roman, and Dean; they were family from the moment you joined the group. Though when you joined the group they were apprehensive, to say the least, ultimately they all admitted it was the best decision they've made collectively. But all of you had a swore hatred towards the Judmentday. They were too loud; too much; and too fucking cocky in your opinion. Now the boys were completely thorough in their dislike; you on the other hand...had a childlike crush on Dominik Mysterio.

It made no sense to you honestly, he was just as much of a dick as the rest of the group, but he seemed kind underneath it all. Like maybe it wasn't in his nature to be so disrespectful. But Monday night proved you wrong.

It was destined to be a long match, one where the groups would go act each other until everyone was worn out and restless. Despite how good The Judgement Day was, you had the intention to win. In fact, you had no doubt that you would win. So when you and Seth were inside the ring together, bouncing around, Dominik and Damian were trying to find the best way to stop you both from hitting them. Damian took a kick; from you; to the chest and stumbled back for a moment. But Dominik was slammed directly onto his back and he was completely winded. Dominik had gritted his teeth and held his chest, just barely rolling to the side to cover himself. It looked so real and the concern you felt only made the facade more convincing.

You ignored everything around you like an idiot; you had forgotten the nature of, The Judgement Day. You skidded down on your knees beside Dominik, and you grabbed him by the arm to roll him over. The second you did his eyes flashed open and his hand went against your shoulder just as fast. He pushed you down and pinned you with no problems; you weren't in pain. More so just paralyzed in shock. At the 3rd count and ring of the bell, Dominik shot up with a victorious smile and went to celebrate with his group. While you sat up and smacked the ring; now you were pissed. Anything you felt for Dominik had disappeared at his stupid stupid trick.

You looked up to exactly what you expected, Roman glaring, Dean running his hands down his face in disappointment, and Seth shaking his head.

--------------------------------

"You have to be fucking kidding me", Dean just about snarled at you. You open your mouth to speak but Seth cuts you off before you even begin, "What happened?". Your mouth opens again only to be interrupted once again, "I think it's pretty clear, she has the hots for that dick" Dean scoffs. You glare at him, "He is not a dick" you mumble. Somehow you found yourself defending him after what he had done. "Really? Then what just happened out there?!", Roman says while making intense eye contact with you. You felt like you were in some kind of intervention at the moment. They all looked at you; waiting for you to say something; anything.

"I don't know", you mumbled and looked at the floor like a coward. You had already felt bad for causing the match, but of course, this hurt worse than that and 100 injuries combined. "We needed you and you go check on the enemy!", Dean has begun yelling now and took a step closer to make it clear he was talking to you. Roman puts his hand out across Dean's chest and shakes his head much like before. You snap your head up to look at Dean and the burning of tears has just started, "He's not the enemy!!", you yell back at him.

"He is!", Dean snarls. You cross your arms and argue back, "He's not". Seth finally cuts in, "But The Judgment Day is?" he questions. You deflate and puff out your cheeks; "That's different", your back to mumbling. "It's not" Roman cuts in and it finally seems like that's all they had left to say. Dean scoffs and just walks away, Roman follows after him without a glance. But Seth pats you on the shoulder with a disappointed look before walking the same. You bang your hand on the wall and curse at yourself for fucking up so badly.

That loss will be the talk of the month, The Shield has never lost to The Judgment Day; at least not until tonight. You walked out of the locker room but your mind felt as heavy as your steps. You had to sit down, but when you walked out and slouched on the wall beside the locker room. You saw the same Dominik Mysterio sitting on the floor, on the other side of the wall, right in front of you. You looked at him with glossy eyes and longing. Even after thinking all the feelings you held for him were lost, not only did your heart beat faster but you had defended him minutes prior. Dominik bit his lip and scratched his eyebrow, "I heard what all you said in there" he commented.

Your lip curled in anger, "Yea? Then you should've heard how much shit you got me into" you spat and pulled your knees closer to your chest. Dominik had only nodded, but he looked up at you front behind his wispy hair; "I didn't ask you to check on me". You roll your eyes like your intention was obvious, "It was the right thing to do" you said quickly. "That's not it", Dominik said right after you.

The hallway was vacant and the space between you both was so vast. You felt as if you could drift away from him at any moment. You also felt like the tears in your eyes had a long time from drying. Though for some reason Dominik made it feel a little better.

From Dominik's point of view, he sees a woman struggling with the mistake of helping an asshole, also known as himself. He felt so bad, and The Judgement Day could never know he was apologizing or a win. For you, nearly everything felt worth it.

Your eyebrows pull in and you squint at him, "What?". "You didn't check on Damian when he fell to the floor at the beginning, so that's not why", he had analyzed your every movement. You clenched your jaw; looked at him and then back down at your lap, "I have no clue what you're talking about". Dominik bit the inside of his cheek and nodded; it felt like you were lying to him, but he had no proof of that at the end of the day. "Well I wanted to say sorry anyways", he muttered; almost like apologizing was something he rarely did. Maybe that was so.

You heard his apology and your lips twitched into a smile while you were still looking down, "You are?". Dominik nodded but you couldn't see, so he reiterated; "That's what I said". And finally, as if it was a miracle you looked up once again, "Smart ass". He laughs with a big smile that you only had the pleasure of seeing on the big screen. You click your tongue at him and lay your chin on your knees, "So you feel bad huh?", you pester him. Dominik snorts and rolls his eyes, running a hand through his hair, "Just a bit...how can I make it up to you", he says the last bit with hesitance. He has underlying intentions that he couldn't share yet. "What do you have in mind?"

"How about dinner, Hermosa"

#dominik mysterio x reader #dominik mysterio x you #dom dom #dominik mysterio fanfiction #dominik mysterio fluff #dominik mysterio #dominik my bbg #wwe

76 notes · View notes

binibininghermosa · 1 year

Text

Giving him the love he deserves (Sanji x Reader) Part 4- Ending

Note: Reader is still Mc (Main Character), but I made it sound like it’s a name! I’m still too lazy to think of a real name. Forgive me!

The prompt for the story is: “The reader gets sucked into One Piece after wishing that someone would love Sanji like he is supposed to be loved, as nobody has given him a chance. She would love to give him that chance if only she could. One time, she was in her room, falling asleep while recording her voice for a cover request sent to her. When she woke up, she found herself in a boat floating, wearing pieces of jewelry fit for nobility. Her neck, ears, and bracelets were all glittering in the darkness.” Part 4 under the cut. Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3 are here!

Amidst the ruins of Arlong Park, the Straw Hat Pirates stood victorious, their figures illuminated by the soft glow of the setting sun. Luffy had triumphed over the formidable Arlong, and the fishmen who once terrorized Nami's village were now subdued and defeated. Nami's eyes shimmered with unshed tears of relief and gratitude as she rushed towards her saviors, her embrace tight and heartfelt.

"You guys did it! You saved my village!" Nami's voice cracked with emotion, her gaze moving from one crew member to another, her gratitude overflowing.

Usopp, grinned proudly, puffing his chest out. "We're the Straw Hat Pirates, after all! Saving villages is what we do best!"

Zoro offered a rare, approving nod. His injuries might have slowed him down, but the genuine gratitude in Nami's eyes lifted his spirits. “Not like we got a choice, you’re one of us,” he grunted, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

Nami turned to Mc, her eyes softening with curiosity and affection. "And Mc, your voice! How did you manage to put the fishmen in a daze like that? It was incredible!"

Mc smiled mysteriously, her eyes holding a depth of knowledge beyond her years. “I just figured out a few years ago when I arrived in this world,” she replied casually, though her gaze hinted at hidden mysteries.

Nami frowned, puzzled by Mc's cryptic response. "Your world? What do you mean?"

Mc winked playfully. "I promise, I'll tell you all about it sometime. Oh, and by the way, nice choice on the new tattoo design. It suits you perfectly." Nami's jaw practically hit the floor in shock. It was as if Mc had read her mind.

As the crew basked in the glory of their victory, a sudden, ominous presence cast a shadow over them. Garp, the legendary Marine Vice Admiral, appeared before them, his stern gaze fixed on the Straw Hat Pirates. Panic rippled through the crew. Luffy's carefree expression turned serious, and even Zoro, in his injured state, straightened up, ready for a fight.

Mc's head was spinning, her thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and frustration. This wasn't how the story was supposed to go. She muttered under her breath, her voice a mix of disbelief and frustration. "This isn't right. This isn't how it happened in the story!"

Sanji, standing beside her, sensed her distress. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, his touch gentle yet reassuring. "What do you mean, Darling? What's bothering you?"

She shook her head, her eyes clouded with uncertainty. "I... I know these events. I've read about them, watched them, but this... Garp shouldn't be here. We shouldn't be facing this threat now. It’s way too soon!”

Sanji's brow furrowed with concern. He pulled her close, his voice low and soothing. "Well, we've faced worse, haven't we? We'll get through this, just like we always do."

But Mc was hyperventilating, her panic rising. “You don’t understand, love. This skipped a whole lot of volumes. Oh god, it’s my fault being here.”

Sanji's eyes softened with worry. "Darling, don't say that. We'll find a way out of this."

Luffy, overhearing their conversation, chimed in with his usual confidence. “You don’t have to know everything! It won’t be fun that way, Mc!”

Nami, ever the strategic thinker, started considering their options. "We can't take on Garp directly, especially with Zoro injured. We need a plan, something that will let us escape without a fight."

Mc, brought back from her spiral of anxiety by Sanji's comforting kiss on her forehead, chimed in, her voice steady. “Fighting is not going to be an option ever. Garp is way too strong.”

Usopp, his eyes wide with fear, added, "What about the Going Merry? We can escape by sea!"

Nami nodded in agreement. "Good thinking, Usopp! Let's head back to the ship. Mc, can you use your powers to keep the marines subdued while we make our escape?"

Mc nodded, her confidence returning with Sanji's reassuring presence. "Of course. I'll do my best to buy us some time. Let's get back to the ship, everyone. We'll figure this out together." When they turned, the Marines and Garp were there. The plan failed from the start.

—

Amidst the fading twilight, Garp's unexpected decision hung heavy in the air. The tension that gripped the Straw Hat Pirates began to dissipate like a storm giving way to a calm sea. Mc, still reeling from the sudden turn of events, felt Garp's eyes on her, as if he had sensed the secrets she carried within her.

With the weight of Luffy's stubborn determination, Garp's formidable presence, and the unspoken words that passed between them, the crew found themselves in a surreal moment of silence. Garp, after a fierce clash with Luffy, had somehow been convinced to let them go. The focus of his rage shifted from the Straw Hat crew to the real enemy: Arlong and his vile pirates.

As the dust settled, the crew found themselves forced into a celebration. Cocoyashi Village, once under the oppressive rule of Arlong, was finally free. The nearby villages joined in the festivities, their gratitude palpable in the air. And amidst the joyous atmosphere, Sanji, the ever-chivalrous cook of the crew, took it upon himself to prepare a feast for the liberated villagers.

—

In the heart of the village, amidst the aromatic melodies of sizzling ingredients and the harmonious clatter of pots and pans, Sanji's hands moved with the grace of a seasoned artist. Each movement was deliberate, each touch purposeful, transforming humble ingredients into culinary masterpieces. The village itself seemed to come alive with the symphony of their movements, a dance orchestrated by Sanji's culinary expertise and Mc's careful serving, her every glance and touch laden with affection.

"You know, you never really taught me how to cook, Ji," Mc mused, her tone playful as she watched Sanji work his magic.

Sanji, the ever-charming cook, smirked, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "You never asked. You just kept watching me. Not that I don’t love that."

With determination in her eyes, Mc nodded enthusiastically. "Okay, give me recipes and I’ll try!"

Sanji's brow furrowed in mock seriousness, "I don’t know about sharing my recipes," he teased, his tone laced with feigned reluctance.

"But you just told me it’s because I never asked!" Mc countered, a playful pout forming on her lips.

A mischievous glint entered Sanji's eyes, and he couldn't resist a playful challenge. "Well, I suppose I can be talked into offering private lessons," he said, his voice lowering seductively, a playful smirk dancing on his lips.

"Oh, I’d love some private lessons," Mc responded with a giggle, her eyes sparkling with amusement, fully aware of the effect she had on her flirtatious lover.

Around them, the villagers observed and interpreted them as signs of a budding romance. Whispers floated through the air like leaves carried by a gentle breeze, their voices barely audible but charged with excitement.

"Hey, lad! You ought to make her your girlfriend! She's smitten with you!" one villager teased, nudging his companion with a knowing grin, his voice intentionally loud enough for the couple to hear.

Sanji, his usual suave demeanor undisturbed, responded with a chuckle that danced through the kitchen like music. "Way ahead of you! She's already agreed to be my wife," he announced, his voice a velvety blend of confidence and charm that sent a ripple of amused laughter through the crowd.

The villagers shared knowing glances, their eyes twinkling with amusement. "Good for you, mate!" they chimed in, their voices a chorus of playful encouragement.

Caught off guard by his nonchalant yet audacious announcement, Mc felt her cheeks flush with a delightful mix of surprise and affection. She turned to him, her eyes wide with astonishment, her lips slightly parted as she searched for words amidst the lively banter of the villagers. "When did you propose?" she stammered, her voice a soft melody amidst the bustling sounds of the kitchen.

Sanji, his focus still on the pot he was stirring, shot her a quick, sidelong glance, his eyes smoldering with intensity. "You've racked up quite the debt with all the food I've been bribing you with," he replied, his tone teasing, yet laden with a depth of emotion that only she could decipher. And then, with a flirtatious wink that set her heart aflutter, he added, "I remember vividly you said you don’t mind and I’ve kept my end of the bargain."

A gasp of delight escaped Mc's lips, her heart skipping a beat at his words. His confidence, his unwavering certainty, and the promise in his eyes stirred a whirlwind of emotions within her. "You remembered!" she exclaimed with a radiant smile, her eyes sparkling with affection, marveling at his ability to recall the very words she had spoken when she asked him to take her out on the date. With a playful wink, it sent Mc down memory lane. He added, “I planned on keeping you with me forever right there and then. Didn’t know you were going to ask me to take you out on a date. But I’m not complaining that just pushed the plan along.”

“Planned it all along huh?” Mc playfully teased.

"Why do you think you are getting so much expensive food and snacks that last for years?" Sanji playfully questioned, his voice a low, intimate murmur, his gaze fixed on her, drowning in the depths of her eyes. "I'm holding on to that, just adding rings and all that."

In that moment, amidst the fragrant aroma of the feast he prepared, Mc felt a surge of overwhelming love. The world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them in their cocoon of affection and promise. "Fiancé it is, then!" she declared, her laughter bubbling with joy, sealing their unspoken vows with the sweet melody of her voice.

"As much as that sounds amazing," Sanji added, his voice laced with playful affection, "I’d rather have the husband title and call you my wife."

Mc huffed playfully, narrowing her eyes at him. "Oh yeah?"

"My endearment, darling, seems lonely," Sanji continued, his tone flirtatiously teasing. "Making it 'Darling Wife'... well, it just makes it better."

Mc shook her head, her eyes softening with affection, unable to hide her smile. "You never cease to amaze me, Ji." With a playful glint in her eyes, she added, "Husband it is, then."

Amidst the laughter of the village and the backdrop of the endless sea, Mc found herself lost in thought, her mind drifting back to the countless meals and snacks Sanji had fed her over the years. She couldn't help but marvel at the fact that despite the indulgence, she didn't gain a single pound.

"I assure you, my darling, you look as exquisite as ever," Sanji purred, his voice dripping with flirtatious innuendo. His eyes twinkled mischievously as he glanced at her appreciatively, a habitual flirtation that never seemed to fade.

"I just can’t believe I haven’t gained so much weight from all those delicious meals," Mc admitted, her tone a mixture of awe and amusement, her eyes narrowing playfully at Sanji.

Sanji's grin widened, his confidence unshakable. "I don't think you ever will," he replied, his words laced with a hint of arrogance and a lot of adoration.

"How can you be so sure?" Mc teased, raising an eyebrow in playful skepticism.

“You burn all those calories-" Sanji said matter-of-factly, his tone confident.

"Serving is exercise. Huh?"

"-With me at night," he added, his voice dropping to a seductive murmur, his gaze smoldering with desire.

Mc gasped, her cheeks flushing crimson as she covered Sanji's mouth with her hand, a futile attempt to silence him. She glanced around, her eyes wide with embarrassment, but it was futile – the villagers nearby had overheard, and so had the rest of the crew, including Nami, who was trying her best not to burst into laughter.

"You know, I don’t know if I like the idea of a married couple on board," Nami teased playfully, her tone laden with amusement as she joined the banter, unable to resist the opportunity.

"Ah, madame, I assure you, we have mastered the art of silence," Sanji replied smoothly, his charm undiminished despite the situation. His eyes sparkled with mischief, fully aware of the effect he had on Mc.

"JI!" Mc exclaimed again, her embarrassment deepening, her eyes playfully narrowing at him.

"That's exactly how you gasped my name," Sanji retorted, his tone teasing, his gaze smoldering with affection and playful desire. He tapped his chin and grinned at his crewmate. “We also mastered stealth at this point.”

“Ji! We have been caught before!”

“I never said we have never been caught,” Sanji smirked. “We got better at it, didn’t we? People in Baratie think after getting caught we had stopped and have a chaste relationship. Little did they know-”

Zoro and Usopp shook their heads as Mc covered Sanji’s shameless mouth and he kissed her hand, reassuring her that's all the audience are getting.

She couldn't help but be flustered by Sanji's shameless flirting, even after all these years. But deep down, she cherished every moment of it, appreciating the unwavering affection he showered upon her.

The crew chuckled at their interaction, their camaraderie stronger than ever. In the midst of the lighthearted banter, their ship sailed forward, carrying the Straw Hat Pirates and their engaged couple, Mc and Sanji, towards new adventures, laughter, and the enduring warmth of love. The sea stretched out before them, endless and full of mysteries, just like the love that bloomed amidst the crew, a love as boundless and eternal as the ocean itself. ══════════════════

And that's a wrap for the series! 😊 From now on, I'll be sharing stories set before, during, and after the series – could all be standalone but connected to the series. I've got plenty up my sleeve! As a huge fan of established relationships and the crew's interactions, get ready!

Catch up on the series: Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3, Check out the Masterlist too!

Stay tuned for more Future Fluffs aboard the Thousand Sunny, starring Mc and Sanji's adorable married life, and the Straw Hats joining in on the fun!

Don't miss out on the fluffs:

Breakfast in Sunny

Caught in Act

120 notes · View notes