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maya1525 · 2 months

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SUCK ~ & ~ F*CK 😋🍾

✩ Featuring Toge Inumaki & Yuuta Okkotsu ✩

18+MDNI

Pairing✩࿐Fem!Reader X Toge Inumaki & Yuuta Okkotsu

WARNINGS✩࿐Fem!Reader giving oral, unprotected vaginal sex, cream pie, sex in front of others, language, rough sex, group sex, double penetration in pussy

Word count✩࿐2.1k

Summary✩࿐This is based on my original post: SUCK ~ GUESS ~ F*CK. But you know ahead of time whose dick is in your slutty mouth. Inumaki drew 2 of Diamonds♦️ and Yuuta drew 2 of Hearts♥️

A/N✩࿐Fem!Reader X Toge & Yuuta will always be my favorite grouping. Both of these men have a special spot in my heart 💜 I felt inspired to have them share the readers kitty cat due to (my own similar experience). 🤪 Feedback is highly appreciated, I love reading your comments! 😙💖

“The game is quite simple.” Gojo stated in a matter-of-fact tone, “You’re going to be blindfolded and will have to guess which man's dick is in your mouth. If you guess incorrectly, the man gets to choose which position to fuck you in. If you guess correctly, then you get to choose the position. To keep things interesting, you’ll suck dick for three minutes and get fucked for seven.”

You nodded your understanding as you sat on the large and cushy futon in Gojo’s apartment. He had planned on fucking you alone tonight, but your boyfriends wanted in on the action, plus they thought it would be a good idea to invite two of their friends, Mechamaru and Noritoshi.

You felt your cheeks warm up with excitement, never in your life, you’ve felt so deeply desired before. Everyone’s eyes were on you, especially because you wore a revealing teddy one-piece. Satoru bought it for you, and it complimented your figure perfectly. He even put a stunning custom collar on you, with a diamond-covered ‘S’ on it.

You couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed to be this exposed in front of Noritoshi and Mechamaru. You were familiar with both of these men, but you were still getting used to human Mechamaru. Muta was on the leaner side compared to your boyfriends, he had sharp features and a large and noticeable scar on his upper cheek. While Kamo on the other hand always seemed like a strong and serious leader among his comrades. The thought that he yearned for you just as much as your boyfriends made you wonder what he would be like when he fucked you. The thought made you anticipate his turn.

While you thought about those two men, your eyes were subconsciously drawn to both of them. Noritoshi sat on the far side of the sectional, his heated gaze stared you down hungrily. Beside him sat your boyfriend Megumi with a starved look in his midnight blue eyes. Next sat Itadori, he eyed you with such desperation, that it looked as if he was going to jump off the couch any second to get to you. Next to him sat Satoru smugly, his eyes gleamed playfully in your direction. Beside him was Muta, he eyed shyly with a faint blush on his face. To his left sat Yuuta and Inumaki, Toge was leaning into the couch comfortably, his violet-colored eyes sparkling over your stunning body with admiration and Yuuta had a similar look of awe on his face.

“Ok Y/n, I’m going to put this on you if you’re ready,” Satoru murmured, his gorgeous blue eyes gleaming down at you, while he wrapped his black blindfold around your eyes.

You were shocked at how you couldn’t even see small streams of light through it. You had always assumed that it was sheer fabric and that Gojo could slightly see through it, but you were mistaken. Satoru’s amazing Six Eyes technique is one to behold, he certainly is the strongest jujitsu sorcerer.

“OK, now that her eyes are covered, I’m going to hand each of you a playing card. Whoever draws the highest card gets to go first.” Satoru explained nonchalantly, as the sound of him shuffling the cards expertly made itself known in your ears.

After a short moment of listening to each man shift on the couch to get their card, Gojo spoke. “Now let’s reveal our cards.” You heard a few small sighs of excitement from some of the men, and you also heard some hisses of displeasure, assuming that they would have to wait a while until their turn.

You then felt something hot press against your left cheek, and as you turned to try and put it in your mouth you felt another dick poke your right cheek. Surprise caught you off guard, both? At the same time? Maybe they drew the same number card. That was all you could logically conclude in your hazy brain.

You decided to alternate sucking both of your boyfriends' dicks, first the one on the left. You kissed his entire length lovingly while you softly pumped the other cock in your right hand. Your wet mouth enveloped the rod on your left briefly. You held him in your throat for a bit, knowing that it would feel pleasurable. You quickly switched hands and gave the same type of treatment to the dick on the right. You trailed featherlight kisses up and down his dick. Then you beckoned him down your throat, knowing that he’ll enjoy the wet squeeze. Once both cocks were saturated with your saliva, you jerked them off simultaneously. As you pumped them, you brought their tips to your lips. You were able to taste their salty precum drip onto your tongue.

The other men in the room couldn’t help but get even more fired up at what was going on right before their eyes. Yuuta and Inumaki exchanged heated glances with each other while your hot mouth worshiped them at the same time. Yuuta was on the left and Toge on the right, each man had a fist full of your hair gripped tightly.

You dragged your tongue across them both in the most sensational way, earning a muted moan to come from the back of Toge’s throat. Despite being fucked out, you were excited to enjoy Inumaki and Yuuta at the same time. You forced the dick on your left to go down your throat once more, and as you did a small sigh escaped his lips. You then switched to the cock on your right, guiding him down your throat with your tongue. You felt him pull your hair tautly, earning a gurgled moan of excitement to come from the back of your throat.

Just then, the timer went off and it was time to guess. Due to the process of elimination, “Yuuta and Inumaki.” You said confidently while lowering your blindfold. Your hazy eyes were greeted by both of your boyfriends standing over you with their sprung and slick dicks in your face. They eyed you longingly and were ready for action.

“So how do you want to take us?” Yuuta asked with a lustful look in his dark eyes.

“I wanna enjoy you in me at the same time.” You sighed, leaning back on the futon seductively. “Yuuta, sit down on the couch.” You instructed, with a perverted idea in your head.

Your black-haired boyfriend did what he was told and sat beside Muta. “Then Inumaki, get on top and face him. Then I’ll sit on you both.” You smiled with a playful glint in your eye.

Toge obeyed your command and settled himself on Yuuta’s lap. You made your way over to them and spun around so you could face your sweet Inumaki. Your dripping pussy hovered over Toge’s dick, but Yuuta had the head of his cock at your ass. You wanted them both in your cunt, so you snuck your hand down and guided his rod up to Inumaki’s so that they were touching. Both men shuddered at the taboo feeling, you couldn’t help but adore the flustered look on Toge’s face. His violet-colored eyes looked at you with deep desire.

You were too caught up in the moment and slipped down onto both dicks entirely. Having both cocks up your pussy felt incredibly hot, you felt a slight sting to being stretched out, but you pushed it aside and focused on having a good time with your boyfriends instead.

“Mmm, you’re too tight.” Whimpered Yuuta from behind you, you felt him lean forward and kiss your shoulders and caress your waist lovingly. You held onto Inumaki for stability while you slowly moved your hips for more friction.

Both men groaned out in pleasure while you ground yourself on them, this caused their dick’s to rub against each other in such an amazing way. Your pussy was incredibly damp due to your arousal mixed with the other men’s cum. Unfortunately, your body was spent, and your thighs burned from Sukuna railing you on your feet earlier. Most of the energy you had was spent on the other men.

You brought your lips to Inumaki’s and kissed him feverishly, “My legs are tired, can you and Yuuta take control?” You asked sweetly.

“Shake,” Toge said affirmatively, he then secured his hands around your waist while Yuuta did the same. Both men lifted you together and then dropped you back down onto their cocks. Feeling them slide back into you sent shivers of delight to run down all of your spines.

“Oh, yes!” You moaned out in adoration, you accidentally cast your gaze past Toge and to Megumi who sat diagonal from you guys. Fushiguro eyed you with acceptance while he and Kamo chatted nonchalantly. You glanced over at Noritoshi, who had a more hungry look on his face. Yuji stared your way with a captivated look in his eyes. While Satoru, leaned back on the couch comfortably, keeping his brilliant blue eyes on you. You amazed him at how skilled you were at taking their dicks. Muta who sat beside Yuuta, had a flushed look on his face, especially because of how close he was to the action. He felt a small sting of jealousy and wanted to be one of the guys inside of you.

You felt Yuuta sneak his hands up your torso and grab ahold of your soft and bouncy breasts. He always loved feeling your boobs. Whenever the two of you would cuddle he’d find a way to hold them sweetly. Both men continued to pump into you simultaneously, each thrust more powerful than the last. You found yourself lost in Inumaki’s captivating gaze, he drew you in almost hypnotically.

“Mmh, both of you feel… so… good.” You whined out between their synced thrusts.

Inumaki felt that he wouldn’t be able to last much longer. The combination of your slick and tight heat alongside the friction against Yuuta’s dick inside you, was more than heavenly. He pulled you closer and crashed his lips against yours passionately. Toge brought one of his hands up to your hair and gently tugged your luscious locks to deepen the kiss.

Yuuta was in love with how amazing you felt; so saturated and tight, he could stay here forever if you let him. The unique sensation of his lengthy rod rubbing against his friend Inumaki’s was just as pleasurable. He felt honored that he was able to share you so intimately with his best friend. Each time Yuuta shoved his dick into you while Inumaki did, he could tell that he was going to bust soon.

“Inumaki, I don’t think- ahh I can last any longer.” Yuuta groaned out anxiously, sure enough, their timer would be up soon.

“Shake-“ Toge shuddered, his eyebrows narrowed in concentration as he continuously shoved himself inside you.

Yuuta and Toge began to plow you down onto their hot dicks with incredible force. Your pussy couldn’t take any more of it, and you weren’t sure if you were able to cum again. All you could do was whine and babble uncontrollably while they shared you.

“So… mmh. Keep going! Ahh…” you sputtered out, lost in pure ecstasy.

Suddenly, the timer went off, but it fell silent to you three. “Cum.” Inumaki stated while he and Yuuta pushed themselves balls deep in you.

Your forced orgasm hit you hard and your pussy pulsated around both rods inside you. You felt your release drench their dicks in the most appetizing way. Yuuta and Toge released themselves in vigorous squirts, each man held you close to them as they rode out their waves of pleasure. Their cum mixed as one, as they shot their streams of milky liquid into you.

They held you for a brief moment, letting you catch your breath as they did the same. You felt like a limp rag doll and exhaustion quickly overwhelmed you. You tried to maneuver yourself off of your boyfriends, but it felt as if your legs were jello.

Satoru picked up on that and swiftly pulled you up and off of them. Once he did a waterfall of everyone’s cum fell down your thighs, it felt hot and sticky. There was such an abundant amount of release in you that when Gojo carried you down, you heard a few splats fall onto his marble floor. He set you on his lap and draped your tired legs off onto Yuji.

Inumaki removed himself from Yuuta’s lap and began to wipe himself off with Gojo’s blue complimentary towel.

“You’ve got me captivated more than you can imagine,” Satoru murmured against your forehead.

You smiled hazily, but you were too tired to respond. You rested your head on his muscular chest and breathed in his comforting scent. The room around you began to fade away and the quiet conversations amongst the other males felt distant. Sleep quickly grabbed a hold of you and your dreams were peaceful.

Little did you know, the following month you’d miss your period.

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worldwhightnight · 2 months

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I'm late but I still wanna congratulate you with you birthday @evilwriter37 🥺🥺🥺🥺❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ I'm happy that you're my friend and I'm wishing you all the goods things in the world!!!! Hope you will like my gift for your Violet wings 🥰❤️💗 (I do think you have one of the most heart touching works about httyd thank you 🥺🥺🥺💖)

If some of you didn't read this beautiful work I'm happy to give you a link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48494146

Enjoy!!

P. S It took long but I'm happy to finish it hehehe 💕🌹💕💖💖💖💖

#wnw art #httyd fanart #hiccup haddock #httyd rtte #vigcup #viggo grimborn #httyd #rtte #art

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

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Dirty Work 38

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: I've been awake since 2am.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

After breakfast, you get ready to go into town with Frigga and Hela upon their vaunted ladies’ trip. An air of uncertainty persists around what exactly that means. Flowers, shopping, and what else?

You try not to let the mystery overshadow the Odinsons’ hospitality. You’d hate to come across ungrateful after all they’d done. Odin and Frigga hadn’t asked for anything in return all while receiving you with an open hand. Just like with all things, you go along to get along.

The drive has you in a sort of trance as you watch the landscape pass. The lush greens and speckles of violet and pink across the fields, thickening to looming forest of coniferous pines and towering oaks. Finally, the wilds thin into even ground and open into a township with a painted wooden sign.

The buildings are old but well-kept. Not like the large city with its pitted brick and steaming sewers. Every street here is like those that surround Laufeyson’s own estate. Curated and pristine. Just like the Odinsons themselves.

You pull in at a large gated lot. The iron barrier is overgrown with flowers and as you enter, you gape around at the expanse of petals and stems. You’ve never been anywhere so spectacular.

You trail behind Frigga as she browses the selection. You shy away from Hela but she’s hardly concerned with you as she admires a bunch of dark roses. You peer around as an assistant approaches at Frigga’s signal.

“What do you think, dear?” Frigga calls to you, “we want white for the event. Lilies, baby’s breath, gardenia?”

You blink and give some thought, “what about daisies?”

She smiles, “daisies, so simple but pretty.” She turns to the assistant, “do you have many?”

“We should have a few boxes ready for delivery,” she answers.

“Wonderful, we will have some daisies. Oh, and we could have some wisteria hanging. Mm, and miss, white tulips? You have those too?”

The assistant scribbles on her pad, “we can do those as well.”

“Hydrangea,” Hela insists as she approaches, standing behind you, “for the posts.”

“Yes, certainly, hydrangea,” Frigga repeats with a sharp point to the assistant. “Oh and lastly, I spoke with Val about the moonflowers, tell me they’re ready.”

“Yes, Mrs. Odinson, we have those set aside already.”

“Good, good,” Frigga remarks, “well, we’ll look around a bit more and let you know if anything else is required.”

“Yes, Mrs. Odinson,” the assistant nods and prompts strolls away.

“You wouldn’t like a splash of red, mother? Maybe some black?” Hela muses, “this Walpurgisnacht will be blinding.”

“Oh, tosh,” Frigga dismisses, “we have a theme. Which reminds me, darling,” she turns to you, “do you have a white dress packed?”

“White?” You blink, “um, no, I didn’t…”

“Not to worry, it’s why we came to town,” she tweets.

“Oof, mother,” Hela cringes.

“Well, I know you certainly don’t have suitable attire,” Frigga reproaches.

“Actually, I’ve a marvelous white jumpsuit selected for just the event,” Hela challenges, “I can listen, I just often choose not to.”

Frigga gives a pinch look before she returns her attention to you, “well then, our task will be easier. I think chiffon might be nice…”

“You know, mother, I do feel as if I’m being replaced,” Hela snickers. You send her a guilty look but her smile holds no malice. She winks and arches a brow. “And yet I do think this little creature will look delectable in white.”

“Mm, yes,” Frigga side-eyes her daughter, “you do have a way with words, don’t you?”

“Oh, pardon me, I should be more like my brothers, would you prefer Thor,” Hela mocks and reaches for your hand, taking it as she caresses it emphatically, “oh lady, you are beautiful, I should wonder if what you hide under your skirt is equally as stunning–”

“Hel,” Frigga exclaims, mortified as she snatches her grasp away from you.

“Ah, alright, Loki,” Hela clears her throat and stiffens her posture, adjusting a non-existent tie, “yes, you are rather adequate. Hm, very acceptable.”

“Don’t,” Frigga commands, “you didn’t have to come if you’re only going to make a joke of it.”

“Oh, mother, that’s simply what it is, a joke,” Hela bats her lashes, “loosen up. Is that not what this day is for? To enjoy ourselves?”

Frigga sighs and shakes her head as she turns away. Your mouth slants as you watch after her nervously. Hela clucks and flicks her fingers dismissively, “once she has a taste of wine, she’ll let go.”

✨

You stand in the fitting room, staring dreadfully at the two hangers. One chosen by Frigga, the other by Hela. They are both beautiful but you’re not certain either of them suit you. You feel the long chiffon as you mull over the choice.

“Well, darling, let us see,” Frigga calls through the curtain.

You wince and recoil. You pull down the longer of the two, the flowy chiffon that caught Frigga’s eye. The one-shoulder cut cinches to draped skirt which drowns you. You look at yourself in the mirror and frown. The fabric seems to drown you.

You turn with a swish and pull back the curtain, stepping through awkwardly as you tug the skirt out of the way of your feet. Hela makes a noise somewhere between a snort and a gasp. Frigga fawns and daintily touches her cheeks.

“Oh, gods, that is gorgeous, isn’t it?” She comes forward and pinches a fold in the skirt.

“She looks like she’s caught in a snowstorm,” Hela muses, “please, she won’t be able to do much in all that.”

“I suppose,” Frigga backs up and folds her arms, “but I like the style, perhaps we might find something similar with less length.”

“Try mine,” Hela demands.

You look between them, not daring to argue with either. They seem to do enough of that. You spin and sweep behind the curtain once more. You shed the chiffon layers and pull on the satin sheath. There isn’t much to it. Thin straps and not much length, a slit up your thigh. It’s more lingerie than a dress.

You peek out shyly before you make yourself come out. Frigga’s face flushes and her lips part. Hela smirks and tilts her head as she bites her lip.

“Oh, fabulous,” Hela remarks.

“She cannot wear that,” Frigga throws a hand up.

“Why not, she has nice legs.”

“That isn’t… appropriate.”

“Well, mother, she can’t dress like an old matron either.”

“It was a perfectly nice dress–”

“For 1912,” Hela shoots back.

You shrink before them and let their back and forth fade into the background. You glance over the rack of white garments and zone out. You just want this to be over. You’re tired of being pulled back and forth like a game of tug-of-war.

Your name draws you back and you focus on the women watching you. You wince and teeter on your feet, “sorry, I was distracted.”

“I was saying,” Hela intones, “we should let you choose.”

“Me?” You blanch.

“Well, it is your dress,” Frigga utters reluctantly.

“Oh, but I… don’t know much about… clothes.”

“Never too late to learn,” Hela insists, “go on, have your pick. Surprise us.”

You glance back at the rack and wiggle your fingers. You slowly approach as the two other women retreat, still muttering to each other. You push through the hangers; too heavy, too stiff, too sheer.

You think you like this one. A simple sheath lining with a mesh overlay, little crepe flowers sewn into the out later. The straps are slender but the bodice is straight cut. It’s wonderful and dreamy. You take the hanger and quickly scurry back behind the curtain.

You switch out the short dress for your pick. You look at your reflection and nearly stagger. You love it. It’s adorable. You go to the curtain and brace yourself. What if they don’t like it? You exhale and ready yourself for disappointment.

You step through and the women face you. Neither say a word as they look at you. They consider you, eyeing you head to toe. Oh no! It’s hideous, isn’t it? You have no taste.

“I love it,” Hela chirps, “what about you, mother? Isn’t it gorgeous on her?”

“I… it’s so… you,” Frigga squeals, “yes, it’s perfect. And the little flowers. Ugh, amazing.”

“Really?” You stand on your toes nervously.

“You must have it,” Hela insists, “next, shoes… the pairing must be perfect.”

“Shoes…” you murmur. Does it ever end?

✨

Your day doesn’t end after the boutique. The tumultuous night slumps in your shoulders and droops in your eyelids as the hours stretch on. Your next stop is a sleek white building with sparkling glass doors. As you enter, the sterile lobby has you minimizing yourself in fear of staining the pure white tile or breaking the crystal counter.

Frigga and Hela strut towards the woman who stands behind the glass table and greet her breezily. She welcomes them by name as you trail behind like a mouse. You don’t belong here. Not a place like this. You might be with them but you’re not one of them.

Once more, you sink into a daze, trying to distance yourself from the present. From those feelings of unbelonging. Those old wounds from the schoolyard when you stood by the fence and kicked rocks, not daring to provoke anyone with an errant gaze.

“Dear,” Frigga jars you as she gently touches your arm, “did you have ID?”

“ID?” You say dumbly, not processing her request at first.

“They serve alcohol so it’s required to check-in,” she explains.

“Oh, um, yeah,” you clumsily grab your purse and unzip the top. You dig out your ID card and hand it over. Frigga has a brief glance at it before handing it over. The twitch beneath her eye worries you; has it expired?

You wait as Hela taps her short nails on the counter top. Finally, the woman behind the counter approves you for entry. You still don’t really get what this place is. There’s no signs aside from the marquee in swoopy cursive; Hvergelmir.

Another woman appears and takes you through an angular doorway. You’re guided to a private room with robes on hooks, cushioned benches and small cubbies. You watch Hela and Frigga as they remove their heels and set them on the low rack. You do the same, doing everything they do at a delay.

They tuck their bags into the cubbies and undress without shame, keeping only their underwear on as they wrap themselves in the silken robes. You face the corner as you strip and pull on a robe yourself.

It isn’t until you move on to the next room that you realise what this place is. A spa. You’ve never been to one but it’s exactly like you’ve seen on television. You recline as a woman smears your face with a mask and places cucumbers over your eyes. It’s relaxing even if it feels a bit strange.

After laying there for what seems like forever, a woman comes in to offer stemmed glasses of sparkling wine. You remove the sliced veggies from your eyes and accept one in kind with the other women.

“I think I might get a wrap,” Hela declares, “I need the cleanse.”

“Mm, I think I might do the steam room,” Frigga drawls before she sips from her glass. You take a tiny sip, reminding yourself of your last indulgence and the disaster that followed. Hela downs half the glass in a single gulp.

“What about you?” Hela looks at you pointedly. “Would you like to join me for the seaweed wrap?”

“Um, what is that?” You ask.

“Oh, darling,” Frigga sits up and grabs a leather folio, “have a look. You can choose whatever you like.”

You accept the little booklet and open it up to the laminated inside. You read through each item and the description below. The steam room sounds uncomfortable, you’re not a fan of sweating, and the seaweed thing sounds slimy…

“Mud bath?” You read allowed.

“Good choice,” Hela praises, “I might join you after my wrap.”

“Oh, okay,” you close the book and put it on the small round table close to you.

Frigga picks up the small golden bell and rings it. The same woman appears and Frigga lists off the treatments for each of you. She’s led away first, then someone comes to fetch Hela, and finally, you’re taken away by another woman with a high ponytail.

The woman helps you cover your hair with a towel and hands you back your wine glass. She leads you into a room with long rectangular tubs filled with reddish brown muck. She points you to one at the end and you put your glass on the little ledge that juts out from the side.

She helps you remove your robe, “you can keep your underwear on if you like. We can provide a fresh pair after, but you may want to remove your bra.”

You nod and dip your head down to unhook your bra. She reaches to take it and you hesitantly hand it over. She hangs your robe from a hook on the wall and leaves you there. Alright, so you just get in?

You step over the high wall of the tub and lower yourself into the warm mud. It doesn’t feel too bad. You slide around slightly before you’re able to find your bearings and reclining against the slanted back. Is this relaxing?

You close your eyes but not for long. You end up staring at the lines between the ceiling tiles. You stir the mud with your fingers. You feel childish, like you're making mud pies.

You stop as you hear voices. You peek over for just a moment as someone else enters. A tall woman with a swirl of black hair escaping the towel on her head strides in, her tall figure draped in one of the ivory robes. The attendant takes her to the tub across from yours.

You try not to watch as she opens her robe, revealing her sleek body shamelessly. She eases into the tub with a sigh and the attendant leaves. You keep your eyes up as tension fills the space.

“The mud is nice today,” she says, startling you.

You nod and look at her as she stretches her arms around the walls of the tub. Her chest is barely concealed by the muck.

“You don’t come here often. I’ve not seen you around.”

You shake your head, “first time.”

“Ah,” her blue eyes gleam, “special occasion?”

“Erm, not really, I… Walpurgisnacht,” you pronounce the word delicately.

“That’s not for a few days,” she intones.

“You know it?”

“Yes, of course, everyone around here does. And this year, with Frigga hosting, it will be a spectacle.”

“You know Frigga?” You wonder.

She laughs, “of course I do. Who doesn’t?” Her tone is dry and her expression haughty, “how do you know her?”

“Um, I… work for her son,” you utter flatly.

“Thor?”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” you correct her.

“How amusing,” she smirks, “what’s your name?”

You answer, your chest binding up tightly. You feel like you shouldn’t be talking to her. Something about the way she grins.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she purrs, “I’m Sif. You might tell my ex-husband I send my regards.”

You swallow dryly and stare at her. Your heart is pounding and your ears ringing. Sif? In the flesh? She’s absolutely gorgeous. You can see why she haunts the Odinsons. She’s perfect.

Now you know why you will never live up to Laufeyson’s expectations. Why he’s so hard to please. Compared to her, well, you can never compare to her. She is immaculate.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #dirty work #au #maid au #thor #avengers #mcu #marvel

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urmanzack · 4 months

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head canons of heartslabyul boys having a crush on a gender neutral reader?

Heartslabyul boys crushing on you

———

Summary: Short head canons on what they'd be like if they had a crush on you Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Characters: Riddle, Trey, Deuce, Ace, Cater Warnings: None! A/N: zero clue how to write trey

———

Riddle 🌹

- poor boy

- he'd be SO nervous around you, but at the same time try to look like the cool house warden he is

- ace teases him way too much, whispering and elbowing him obviously whenever you walk by, or straight up waving you over

- trey, on the other hand, would gently encourage him; try to get him to learn about your favourite things

- it’d take a little bit, but if you hadn’t already he would talk to you probably after class, and offer to study with you to get your grades up even if theyre already great

- he absolutely melts at your praise

- riddle just thinks you’re the sun, you’re so gorgeous to him

- definitely stares, and blushes if you notice while hes obviously admiring you

Ace 💖

- ace has been in a relationship in the past (his middle school girlfriend NO IM NOT MAKING THAT UP HE FR GHOSTED HER), but when it comes to you? it’s so much more complicated

- will go on and on to deuce about how much he likes you and why

- tries to be really confident around you to get your attention

- the type of dude to do idiotic things in front of his crush and fall on his ass

- terrified of what you think of him, do you think he’s annoying? cocky?

- will bite someone's head off if they say anything bad about you, even in casual conversation. you know he likes you if he gets annoyed instead of joking about it

- you would have to be friends with deuce, the 3 of you would most likely hang out together

- but on some days you sit with ace under a tree, having your own little picnic

Deuce ♠

- mamas boy

- does his best!

- tries to avoid you finding out he was a delinquent during school, he doesn’t want you to think he’d be a bad boyfriend

- similar to ace, you’d have to get along

- now and then he makes dumb jokes to try to get you to smile

- definitely someone who pines (pining is when you think the other person doesn’t feel the same way)

- befriends you first, friends to lovers fashion

- then would ask you out real casually

- literally loves you so much

- writes letters to his mom about you

Cater ♦

- there’s no way this man hasn’t been in a relationship before, he’s so social!

- he flirts with you 24/7, but it’s hard to tell if he’s joking around or if he actually means it

- likes all of your social media posts, and definitely would stalk your account to see what you’ve been up to

- not afraid to talk to you at all, one day he might come up behind you, wrap his arm around your shoulder and start making conversation as if you’re the best of friends

- very good at hiding he likes you

- but tries to make it obvious

- if you’re oblivious and don't get the hint… he’d just ask you out

- adores taking photos with you

- matching profile pictures, phone cases, bios, you name it

Trey 🍀

- he’s not an obvious flirt, but he’s not shy either

- trey most likely compliments you often, being really casual and calm

- he wants to make a good impression

- “You didn’t eat breakfast? Here, have some candied violets, they’re my favourite.”

- always wishes you a goodnight's sleep and says good morning

- a worry bug if you're late to class

#head canons #riddle rosehearts x reader #trey clover x reader #cater diamond x reader #deuce spade x reader #ace trappola x reader #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #fluff #gender neutral reader #gn reader

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manjiroscum · 1 year

Text

PRIMROSES

Character/s: Pantalone

Warnings: f!reader, a bit of explicit sex, mature language, arranged marriage, hurt&comfort, light angst, fluff, modern au, this is a bit cheesy ngl, reader's father is a dick, pantalone has violet eyes, reader being anxious, pantalone is a banker, pantalone being a simp, mentions of unprotected sex, mention of the use of condoms, hints of pregnancy, and use of pet names. Minors do not interact.

Note: been long since i wrote so i apologize if it isn't the best 🥹 this piece is dedicated to my lovely bby suki 💖

Synopsis: Your dearest husband got the scare of his life.

WC: 2.4k

Distance makes the heart grow fond but prolonged absence makes the heart forget.

The day Pantalone agreed to marry you despite it being an arranged endeavor was supposed to make a blushing bride feel over the moon. To recall that fateful meeting was akin to viewing a love story just about to unfold on a large screen, blissfully unaware of what was coming next no matter how obvious the foreshadowing is shown. All that occupied your mind that moment was the faint scent of primroses that wafted around the vicinity that was graced by his presence. The scent became stronger with each passing second, especially when you happened to flick off a piece of lint that dared to tarnish his impeccable suit. The mere act alone had Pantalone smiling down at you, causing your poor unsuspecting heart to do a flip.

“Thank you, my dear. I never saw that.”

He was cordial during the first meeting, smiling and casually complimenting you or nodding to your father’s flowery description of his beautiful daughter. The way his eyes followed your every move was enough to have you grow conscious of whatever you do but also made you aware of his interest in his soon-to-be wife. He was every man’s dream—rich, powerful, and unbothered by those who dared to challenge him. After all, who could compete with such a force that is Snezhnaya City’s most wealthy and influential banker? Mere humans can not compete with a demigod of the financial world, let alone those who wish to become like him when there is only one Pantalone in the whole universe who has beaten all odds thrown at him by life to reach the pedestal where he is now.

Nothing would make you happier than to have him fall head over heels for you just like you did with the way he carried himself during the entire evening.

“Is the caviar delicious?”

Pantalone’s lips curled up at your eager nod, unable to take his eyes off of you just like you couldn’t gaze away from the man. He was so patient in explaining things you would ask him, gentle in holding your hand to kiss it as a momentary goodbye. The promise of more encounters shone through his amethyst irises behind those glasses, capturing every fiber of your being to believe in him for he shall never disappoint.

“I hope to see you again, preferably sometime this week.”

A man such as he deserved nothing but the best of the best. To marry Pantalone would be second to reaching those pearly gates—everything to be handed to you on a gold platter and happiness will be served once one gold band is around your pretty ring finger. To be Pantalone’s wife… Such bliss indeed.

And yet, it was damn lonely. After all those months of preparations and making sure the wedding, including the wedding night, was perfect—Pantalone never had free time to spend with you again the second the honeymoon was all over. You have never foreseen the loneliness after all those insatiable fucking, overflowing words of endearment, and sipping champagne with him. Your friend was the occasional helper in the penthouse once the knots were tied. Missing Pantalone dearly wasn’t part of the agreement.

What happened to his vows in keeping you happy?

Your father was the first person you consulted with this sudden change in Pantalone’s demeanor. Yet, he hardly provided any advice or assistance or anything at all to explain the distance between you and your husband. For someone who arranged the marriage, you would’ve thought he’d lend you a hand and be sure the relationship wouldn’t go sour.

“Daughter, I think you shouldn’t be too… clingy, you know? Your husband needs some space from time to time. A man can’t run a business when his wife is hogging all of his time. Just don’t get all emotional. You tend to overreact…”

Frustrated, you slammed the door after walking out of your dad’s office. Hot angry tears threatened to drip down your warm cheeks at his statement. No wonder your mother left his sorry ass too soon.

You? Clingy? Overreacting?

Pantalone couldn’t even keep his hands off of you during the honeymoon period, even going far as to glare at the waiter who was making passes at you at that French restaurant. He tore the dress you wore that night with his bare hands while stamping hot kisses onto every skin his lips could touch. His fingers burying deep in your wet pussy he made possible so easily. The intoxicating smell of primrose and your shampoo mingled in your shared bedroom, with a mixture of sweat and fluids. His mouth claimed yours again and again just like his cock stretching your hole with each powerful thrust. Your husband burned through his stash of condoms meant for a month that night. You failed to recall how many times he came inside you, whispering his devotion directly into your ears while pounding you sore.

Pantalone valued your time like he valued his money. Those lips spoke of unattainable treasures he can buy, pledging he shall get them if you do ask. Yet, you never requested any material things. While you were grateful, it was his presence and his time you sought—far more valuable than any gold or jewel.

He found this far too amusing.

“Dearest, it somehow pains me that you don’t want this Birkin that will absolutely go well with that dress. Normally I would insist, but if you merely want to spend an evening alone with me, who am I to say no?”

It was his sturdy form keeping you from stumbling after too many drinks or the way he tucks back stray hairs from your face that made your soul fall harder. The quirk of his brow or the curve on his lips as he intently listens to you had your heart leaping in euphoria. This may have been an arranged marriage, however, it was better than you imagined. Pantalone may be the best husband there is…

A husband you rarely see anymore due to the drastic change in his behavior.

No matter how you tried to call him every day, you couldn’t help but hang on to his cryptic messages as responses or calls that last for a minute. The meals for two set on the table morphed slowly into one. His chair was often empty beside yours as you ate in silence. Traces of him being in the penthouse was rare, and even if he were to come home, only his warmth beside your side of the bed and the faint scent of primroses were all you could witness.

The ride down the elevator was uneventful as it can be. But your mind was racing faster than the cogs of the machine working to take you to the parking level. Pantalone consumed your thoughts even as you got into the Bentley Pantalone gifted you as a wedding gift. Sitting there and staring into space in the driver’s seat, you sighed.

Where did you go wrong?

You were quite sure everything was going so well between you two. Plus, you made sure not to do anything that will annoy him or anything. Pantalone was straightforward in telling you what ticked him off and what he found pleasant. He laid out his terms just as you did yours before you both agreed to marry one another.

So, what was keeping him so busy that he could barely see his wife, let alone be at home all the time?

Groaning, you leaned back against the seat and covered your face. You didn’t want to shed any tears, not in a parking lot where anyone can see. And frankly, you didn’t want to cry just because Pantalone hasn’t been paying you any attention. Oh god, perhaps you have gone too clingy. Too clingy that he has made his office his home and refuses to see you. For weeks, you have been sick with worry. Mornings, where you refuse to eat and even vomit the food you ate at dinner, were more frequent. To lose sleep over your husband’s absence was not the ideal way to go. But how can you lay in bed when Pantalone was out there doing god knows what?

No longer fighting back the tears, you nodded in defeat. Perhaps your father was right. Maybe you have gone too far as to cling to him in every moment you saw each other. Yeah, that’s probably why… You were quite sure of this, enough to go home and pack your things hastily into a suitcase. Hellbent on leaving him first before he can think of doing it. The rash decision fueled by your sorrows grew more rational with each minute that passed.

Because if he were seeing another woman, you were certain you would die on the spot—right there and then. You couldn’t bare to lose half of your soul when you just found it.

Pantalone, fortunately for him, came home to retrieve papers in his office just in time as you were about to wheel your suitcase out the front door. What appeared to be a normal day went crashing down instantly at the scene in front of the banker. A look of shock flashed in his features that you were sure you have never seen grace his face before. He was quick to compose himself, though, and approached you in confusion. You tried to hide your tear-streaked face, hoping the last image he will see of you is an epitome of immaculate and not someone about to get kicked out.

Yet, fate wouldn’t have it, eh?

“D-dearest, is there something wrong? Why have you packed your—what’s going on?” Despite the urgency and demand in his tone, Pantalone’s voice was shaky. Why on earth was his wife leaving him? Had he done anything wrong? Mind trying to come up with a memory or incident where he might’ve said something to offend you, Pantalone instantly shut the door and blocked it with his body when you moved past him. “Sweetheart, I won’t be able to understand or appease you if you wouldn’t tell me what’s bothering you.”

He watched as you swallowed, trying to avoid eye contact with him. Normally, this type of behavior would irritate him. But this was you. Pantalone would rather set his bank and possessions on fire than scare you away—the charming woman who genuinely enjoyed his company and listened to him rather than worm your way into his life for his money.

“I…I can’t do this anymore,” you responded with a hiccup from all the sobbing you did earlier. Pantalone’s mind haywire at your statement, unsure whether to hold you to keep you from running or to let you go. What could have possibly turned you this way? It wasn’t until your teary eyes met his that the realization of his constant absence sunk into him. “You’ve been… distant lately. I t-tired to reach out multiple times. I know you’re a busy man, but—” you cut yourself off to keep another sob from bubbling out.

Your trembling body was then encased by Pantalone’s, arms wrapping around you. The burst of his familiar scent of those damn flowers that always muddled your mind now cleared your thoughts. Instead of pushing him away, you found yourself crying in his arms, refusing to let go. Your husband sighed heavily, whispering his apologies and rubbing your back to soothe you.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I am… aware that I’ve been away. I know my lack of reaching out shouldn’t be excused, but do know that whatever you think I am doing is false.” Cupping your face, Pantalone leaned down to kiss your eyelids and tears. He continued to press kisses around your face until you quieted down, still holding onto him. He resumed his explanation with a small smile. “I shouldn’t have left you all alone, especially when the plans I’ve been busy with concern our house. Will you forgive your stupid husband for his mistake, mhm? Please stop crying, dearest. I can’t bare to see you this sad. I know I truly messed up this time… I am willing to make things right.”

Blinking twice, you registered the information regarding his lack of presence. While you were glad he admitted his mistake, this was a reminder that even such an accomplished man like Pantalone was still human at the end of the day. And a house? For the family that you two will soon have? He thought of this relationship far ahead...

Is this man's mission to make you fall even harder?

“You did. You fuckin’ made me worry so much.”

“Language, sweetheart. You know I only want to hear you say filthy words when you’re underneath me,” he joked that your eyes rolling. Pantalone then fished out a handkerchief from his suit pocket, handing it to you. “Now, dry those tears. I’ll take you to see the progress of the construction tomorrow. We’ll have lunch at that restaurant you have been wanting to go to. How does that sound?”

You grabbed the handkerchief he gave you and blew into the expensive material, giggling at the grimace that he tried to mask.

“Okay. But I’ll forgive you, stupid husband, if you promise not to do this again and communicate. And if you will promise to keep the rest of your days free for me. I miss my stupid husband so much that I’ve forgotten how he feels next to me.” You coupled your statement with a soft teasing smile. Pantalone exhaled in relief and then nodded without hesitation, not minding what you called him.

“Of course, dearest. Anything you want.”

Humming in delight, you hugged him again. Those three words you always say slipped past your lips, relief both in your hearts. Pantalone whispered those words back, squeezing you tighter. The crisis has been averted, but simply letting him get away with this is not happening. He knows this.

“And one more thing, can we eat at a different restaurant? I’ve been craving sushi since last night.”

“Craving sushi?” His brow raised at your request, pulling away to stare at you. “But I thought you couldn’t stand raw food right now? You said so last time. Isn’t that the reason why you wanted to eat Italian dishes?”

While it was endearing that Pantalone remembered that phone call back when he was missing in action, you went still at the memory. Sharing a look with him, perhaps there was something more than simply missing him that was causing your mood to switch faster than a broken light switch.

🎐taglist: @dottores @manjirousagi @festive @tokyometronetwork @saetoru @saeshiraw @saecore

#pat.✍️fics #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #pantalone x reader #genshin pantalone #pantalone smut #genshin impact pantalone #tw.unprotected sex #tw.pregnancy

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14dayswithyou · 5 months

Note

In the game, I remember Mc mentioning that at night he could hear the neighbor playing game. That means the wall is pretty thin. That also means that when Mc spent "the first night" with Ren, our neighbor could hear Everything/some of it????🫣

If the noise complaint notes come at my door, I will be too embarrassed to meet everyone in the building and move with Ren immediately.🤣🤣🤣

✦゜ANSWERED: Realistically speaking, Violet would've either still been on her walk or had headphones on whilst gaming — so she wouldn't have heard anything!!

#💌 — answered.#💖 — 14 days with queue.#🔞 — woohoo zone.#💖 — about ren.#💖 — about violet.#whatttt55

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marthawrites · 9 months

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Congrats Martha!! 🎉🎉

Could I request Rhaenyra x reader with the prompt “Spread your legs for me, I want to see all of you” pretty please?

Thank you 😍

Absolutely, Fae my darling! I hope I brought your prompt to life and gave it justice! 💖

Honeyed Promises

Rhaenyra Targaryen x fem reader

Word count: 2.8k+

About: While visiting your great uncle, Lyman Beesbury, at King's Landing, you weren't expecting secondhand stress to affect your lord husband so. Princess Rhaenyra takes notice and is happy to steal moments away with you.

Includes: Unhappy political marriage, mentions of verbal fighting, and smut. Featuring reader's first sexual experience with a woman, oral sex, vaginal fingering, and scissoring

Note: Hello lovely reader ❤️ This is my very first time writing a wlw fic - ahh! It's a complete honor to do it as a request for Fae! Story takes place during Rhaenyra's marriage to Laenor. It is implied she hasn't had children yet. Reader is nondescript. As always, I hope you enjoy this story!

Little had changed since your last visit to King’s Landing when you were a young girl. The Red Keep, in all its sprawling glory, loomed just as large as you remembered. A rarity, you were beginning to understand – for things you thought grand as a child were all but normal to you, now. The Keep was a being of its own, however. Almost a living, breathing, sentient thing. For an outsider its walls seemed to morph into the dark; changing, shifting… holding onto its secrets like the dragons its Kings bonded with.

You weren’t a stranger to politics. But, you were a stranger to the volume of aristocrats which surrounded the Targaryen dynasty. Lyman Beesbury, your great uncle, served as master of coin on King Viserys’ small council, and before him, King Jaehaerys, and was as deep into politics as a man of a smaller House could be.

A great honor.

Uncle Beesbury extended an invasion to his nephew, your lord husband, to attend a royal affair at the capital. He gladly accepted. Using it for not only an excuse to get out of Honeyholt for a while, but also to catch up with family, the long journey felt worth it.

Your marriage had yet to bear fruit. Little love bloomed between you and your husband. It was a marriage of duty rather than love, and it showed it more ways than you two cared to admit. If only you could swell with his child to put an end to all the talk of furthering the bloodline.

Each passing day at King’s Landing showed you a different side to your husband. Whatever he and his uncle conversed about in private soured his mood, and his harsh tongue somehow grew harsher towards you. No matter how you tried to soften him with gentle touches, tender words, and initiating marital affections, he was unsatisfied and dour.

“Your lord husband seems quite the ray of sunshine, my lady,” princess Rhaenyra whispered to you one night during dinner. Her voice lilted with sarcasm and her violet eyes dazzled with amusement when she met your gaze. She held it with confidence. With a softness. Knowing.

“Is it that obvious, princess?” You asked with some of her same amusement. “He was so excited to come here. I thought he’d be happier than…,” you waved your hand in a sweeping gesture, adding, “this.”

She smiled softly. “Have you had the chance to explore? There are many wonderful things here to distract you from tetchy husbands,” she said and tipped her goblet towards you, sipping to hide her smirk.

“Perhaps on the morrow I will,” you said, heat and butterflies filling your blood at her tone and implication. Could the princess be… flirting? Your heart quickened a tick. Surely you’re mistaken. Your bedtime stories of suave knights must be getting to you.

“I’ll gladly show you around. I too could use a distraction from the small council.”

She didn’t touch you, but the way her gaze lingered from your neck, up to your lips, and down to the exposed swath of your chest, made gooseflesh pebble your skin as if she had.

Nearly a week went by and unfortunately Rhaenyra had yet to keep true to her word. You couldn’t blame her, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt. Each day passed with a sting. The only thing that made it better was the conversations you were able to steal at dinner. The lingering looks, the briefest of touches, Rhaenyra reaching to brush away dust from your gowns… you thought your heart might truly leap from your throat when she wetted the corner of her napkin with her mouth to clean a drop of sauce from your chest.

And, all the while, she sat by her husband, Laenor Velaryon, and you sat by your lord husband; the men either uncaring or none the wiser to the simmering attraction and tension between you and the princess.

The following day, after a particularly curt argument in hissed voices, you stomped away from your lord husband and left him in one of the numerous corridors. You didn’t stop your angry pace until you were standing in the gardens. Unchaperoned, unguarded, and completely alone. Just how you wanted to be. Heavy gray clouds began to gather over the castle. It didn’t deter you from wanting to make the most out of the remaining blue sky.

Your mood lightened by the minute. Flowers, shrubs, and trees bloomed everywhere. Heady scents filled your nose and it made you yearn for home. King’s Landing was lovely. But, to you, there truly was no place like home.

Akin to your married name, you quietly followed a trail of honeybees until you found their hive. Deep and hidden in the gardens, you wanted nothing more than to simply stay there for the remainder of the day. Perhaps even the rest of your stay. Honeybees were busy and gentle creatures. As long as you didn’t disturb them or their hive, the working girls were unbothered by your presence.

Finally, with one final whisper of goodbye to the bees, you left the secret spot and began to make your way back to the Keep. Raindrops started to fall and you knew a full on downpour wasn’t far behind.

Then, right there in your path, stood Rhaenyra. Her head was tipped back, her eyes were closed, and her palms were open up towards the sky as if in prayer. You felt like you were interrupting something sacred. Excitement jumped to your throat and before you could stop yourself, you asked, “princess…?”

She turned to look at you with partially lidded eyes. “What ever are you doing out here right now?” She asked with genuine confusion.

“I needed a breath of air. My husband, he…”

Before you could finish she held a hand up and offered a small shake of her head. “Needn’t worry to explain, then,” she said, appearing to come back to herself. “If the storm didn’t brew out of nowhere, and if I knew I’d run into you, I’d insist on taking you astride Syrax with me,” she said as she stepped into your space, eyes bright and dark alike. She freely reached for your hands and grabbed both of them. “There’s nothing quite as thrilling as dragon flying.”

This is more thrill than I’ve felt in a long time, you wanted to say. You wondered if the words flashed across your face. Briefly flustered, you smiled. “I, uhm… thank you, truly, princess. But I much prefer the ground.”

“That’s because you’ve never tried being in the sky,” she said, voice soft, so soft, as she leaned into you. “You cannot deny something so quickly if you haven’t tried it…”

Desire, excitement, and wonder filled her pretty eyes. Violet, and silver, and always donned in the loveliest gowns, you understood how the rumors of Targaryens being closer to Gods than men traveled all over the Seven Kingdoms. She was close enough that you felt her breath tickle your face. Smelled the oils of her skin. Something electric pulsed between your almost pressing bodies. “This is the closest I’ve been to a dragon and I am positively thrilled,” you whispered in reply, gently squeezing her hands.

“Sweet girl…,” she cooed as she tilted her head and pressed a delicate kiss to your waiting lips. Whatever pulsed between you before thrummed to life like a wardrum, now. You returned her kiss and that’s all she needed. Both her hands cupped your face as she deepened the affection, savoring the smoothness of your lips. Your tongue.

Just then the sky opened and emptied warm rain on the city. Within moments you were both soaked. Shock led to laughter as you both ran to find cover. Rain water dripped from your nose as you looked at Rhaenyra with renewed delight. “It came out of nowhere!” You said once in the dry safety of the Red Keep’s walls.

“Which part?” Asked the princess, mischievousness alighting all her features. She pulled you along, now, looking over her shoulder and daring you to keep pace with her.

Challenge accepted.

Arm in arm, you kept pace with Rhaenyra and paid little mind to any onlookers who might be giving you curious glances. She was light and quick on her feet and you were beginning to have a hard time keeping up with her. Still, the light air of playfulness danced around both of you.

An ornate door was guarded by a single man and the princess was quick to say, “you may be relieved from your post for now, ser.” He offered a bow before turning to leave. She opened the door and latched it once you were both inside. Locking it, she turned to face you with a smirk that had you giddy.

“What of your husband, princess? And mine?” Despite it only being the two of you in her private bedchamber, you whispered.

“Laenor and I have… we have found common ground with a pact, you see. He would be happy that I found joy and thrill in chasing you. No one will know of our kiss. That, I promise,” she said, mirroring your tone, as she traced the backs of her fingers along your jaw. Your neck. Whispering them over your collarbone. “As for your husband? Well… I haven’t even seen him kiss your cheek since you’ve been here. Such a shame.”

Your heart was doing flips in your belly. Your lord husband never made you feel like this. Not even on your wedding night. “Th-this–,” you started, uncharacteristically stammering, “–I’ve never done anything like this before. I’ve only ever been with my husband.” Heat warmed your cheeks and you hoped she didn’t see it.

“That’s okay,” she purred. “Let me show you, my lady.” Her eyes searched yours. As soon as consent passed between you, she began to help you out of your wet gown. You helped her out of hers, too, and before too long you stood in front of each other in only your chemises; thin material doing little to hide your bodies.

Now on her bed, your curious fingers trembled over her skin as you explored her body. Your lips shuddered atop her flesh as you grazed tentative kisses along her. Your breath caught in your throat when she did all the same, and more, to you. She was so soft, and so warm, and so unlike anything you’d experienced before. Her hands on any and every part of your body had you melting further into her mattress. “Can you.. Can I…,” you said dreamily. “Can I feel your skin on mine?”

Grinning like a cat, Rhaenyra pulled your chemise over your head. She tugged hers off too. Leaning down, she balanced her weight atop you as she crashed her mouth to yours in the neediest hungriest kiss you’d ever experienced. Your breasts squished together, and your bellies, too, and it was the single most exciting thing you’d ever felt. “Can I finish taking all your clothes off?” She asked, half breathless, one hand snaking down to the ribbons of your smallclothes.

“Yes,” you panted. “Please,” you begged.

Having neither the will nor the want to keep you waiting, she obliged. She tugged the ribbons open before sliding the final garment down your legs. Kneeling on the edge of the bed she looked from the center of your body to your face, violet eyes dark with desire. “Spread your legs for me. I want to see all of you.”

A wave of shyness washed over you. Now, you were praying doubly that she didn’t see the blush of your face. Your legs parted with hesitation; butterflies roared from your scalp to your toes. It shouldn’t be embarrassing. It shouldn’t make you timid. But the intimacy, the lewdness, made your teeth sink into your bottom lip.

Rhaenyra watched all the while. Despite the clawing arousal in the pit of her own belly she let you go at your own pace and made no move to hasten or startle you. “Men often don’t appreciate the true beauty of a woman,” she said, low and gentle. “But I am no man and you are beautiful. Be a good girl and open them further. It will be worth it, I promise.”

Her words struck a chord in you. Before you fully realized what you were doing, your legs spilled open to expose the fullness of your eager cunt. It glistened with your arousal. The pink at your very center begged to be touched. To be spread. To welcome whatever Rhaenyra might bless you with. “Will you also take yours off?”

“Soon,” she answered all too quickly, already leaning forward between your parted thighs. “But first I want to kiss this pretty cunny.” And she did. She kissed the tender flesh at the inside of your thighs, your mound, your budded pearl. Her smooth mouth kissed again and again until you were squirming beneath her, and it was then, and only then, that she traced her warm tongue up your slit.

Your breathy gasps turned into a choking mewl at the sensation of her tongue. “Gods…!” You looked down at her and burned even hotter at the sight. “Please don’t stop, princess. Please don’t stop.”

Rhaenyra licked and lapped again and again, making no move to stop even as you shuddered beneath her. You were too warm, too lovely, and too responsive for her to even consider stopping. When she eventually ceased her licking, she instead sucked on your clit until she felt your entire cunt convulse and throb. Your sounds of pleasure were everything she imagined and more. As soon as you relaxed from your first peak she slid two fingers into your empty cunny. Working her tongue and digits in tandem, she gave you another climax. The natural tang of your body gave way to the sweetness of orgasm, and with that taste on her tongue she finally crashed her mouth to yours once again.

You whimpered into the affection, smiling and purring like a spoiled cat. “You’ve got a magical mouth, princess,” you said dreamily.

“How do you like your taste?” She asked, kissing you again, slower, deeper.

“Like I want more,” you said. “Let me taste you. You can guide me along. Show me how to make you feel good like you just did me.”

She giggled into your neck. “I know a way to make both of us feel good at the same time. Do you trust me?”

You nodded, the darkness of your eyes glittering with desire.

Rhaenyra discarded her smallclothes and positioned herself between your legs. “Relax and let me show you how to hold your legs, yes?” She spread yours a little wider while moving one of her own beneath your leg. She spread her other one wider and hooked it over your waist.

It was an odd position, one you’d never been in before, but one that immediately sent your blood soaring. She rolled her hips once. Once. And that’s all it took for you to feel the slickness of her cunt slide against your own. If you thought her mouth was magical it was only because you hadn’t yet felt her cunny against yours. You gasped sharply. “More,” you croaked, eyes black with lust.

“Move your pelvis with me,” she said thickly, lust darkening her features just as much as yours.

You happily obeyed. Your pleasure was her pleasure, and hers, yours, as you both rolled and ground your hips and pelvis in a delightfully obscene rhythm. Moans and whimpers were accented by the slick echoes of your centers. Your breasts started to bounce with the effort; both of your hands pressing and digging into any soft flesh it could find. You felt drunk. High. Buzzed on the saccharine scents of her skin and your combined arousal.

The shared pace grew firmer, quicker, sloppier. Sweat sheened your bodies. You both chased your high on the other’s cunt. You tumbled into orgasm first, white hot fire exploding out from your belly to every nerve of your body. Rhaenyra quickly followed.

You both rode it out slowly. Intensely. Savoring every second that passed between you.

When your limbs finally managed to untangle, she collapsed beside you and smiled. After a few moments of breath catching, she asked, “which was your favorite, my lady?” Her words breathless, her tone playful.

You hummed in thought. “I don’t quite know… I think I’ll need a reminder again, just to be sure.”

“I think we can arrange that,” she said with a laugh.

“Can we do this again?”

“As many times as we can sneak away together, I am happy to explore with you.”

You laid together for as long as you could, until the golden hour summoned you to the day’s final meal where you both said next to your husbands; relaxed and sated.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

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312 notes · View notes

lonelyharmonies · 11 months

Text

out of the blue

When Huang Renjun enters his classroom on a Friday morning, he expects anything but a cryptic note with a math equation placed on his desk, addressed to him.

pairing: art teacher renjun x math teacher reader. word count: 4.5k warnings: one student has a crush on a teacher (?) a/n.: i love renjun and i love this silly little story 💖

Out of the blue, notes started appearing on Renjun’s desk.

At first, he thought it was a prank. He was used to it, after all, the staff at Dream High is playful and Lee Donghyuck is particularly fond of pulling pranks on Renjun. That’s why he made nothing of the silly note that read:

Roses are red, violets are blue, DaVinci painted Monalisa, ‘Cause he didn’t meet you.

Renjun just put the note aside and moved on with his classes. On the following day, however, the same blue post-it could be found on his table in the art room. This one said:

Is your dad an art thief? Because you are a masterpiece.

He chuckled to himself, in disbelief, and threw it inside one of the drawers of his desk before class started, and just moved on. But the cheeky slash flirty notes didn’t stop there: Renjun spent days finding silly pick-up lines written on blue post-its.

You must be an artist, because I find myself drawn to you.

On the day his class was discussing surrealism, there was even one referring to it:

You must be Salvador Dalí because you are persistently in my memory.

What confused him the most is what’s the reason for it? It wasn’t Valentine’s Day for Donghyuck to be doing something like that and Renjun was sure this is all Donghyuck’s doing (he is the only teacher who is overworked yet acts idle enough to come up with this kind of nonsense just for fun). Confirmation of his suspicions came on a Friday morning when he found the blue post-it on his desk, but, this time, it had an equation.

9x-7i > 3(3x-7u)

During recess, Renjun walked to the teacher’s office stomping his feet as he made his way to Teacher Lee’s cubicle. Today was the last straw, especially because one of the students found the previous notes in his desk’s drawer and the whole class started talking about his ‘secret admirer’ (and Renjun hated being the center of the student’s gossip. When they found his Instagram account it had been enough attention for a lifetime).

“What’s this?” he crossed his arms, wearing a scowl.

“Damn, not even a ‘hi, Hyuck! How’s your day?'” Donghyuck turned to his coworker with a raised brow.

"Cut it, Lee Donghyuck, you know what this is about.”

“Do you want me to teach you basic algebra?”

“I want you to stop sending me these ridiculous notes!"

"What notes, man?” Donghyuck was both confused and curious about how the situation was going to unfold. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I have been finding these cheesy pick-up throughout the whole week and just today i see this studpid equation.” Renjun pointed aggressively to the note on the desk. “It’s obviously you!”

“What does the note say?” Jeno, biology teacher, also got invested and leaned into Donghyuck’s cubicle to take a look at the note. He snorted at the sight of the blue post-it “There is no way.”

“Yeah, I can’t believe it either!” he fumbled with the pockets of his pants, trying to find the other note. “You even left this one about Dalí on the day I was teaching surrealism.”

“I’m sorry, who? You’re teaching what?” Donghyuck scratched his head as Jeno peeked at the other notes thrown on the desk.

Donghyuck’s genuinely disturbed reaction made Renjun rethink his accusations. When the pick-up lines started getting too art-related, Renjun should have questioned if it was really Donghyuck’s doing. The math teacher was smart, but Renjun doubted he had enough knowledge of European painters to come up with such a specific pick-up line. But if it wasn’t Donghyuck… Well, he could have googled them, right? I mean,The Persistence of Memory is a very famous painting, you don’t need to know that much about art… right? Because,well… If not Donghyuck, then, who?

“I don’t know why you keep leaving notes on my desk, but please, stop. The students are gossiping already.”

“Do you think I have the time to leave you notes? I have a student to tutor, Renjun.”

“Then what’s this equation?” Donghyuck sighed and rolled his eyes. “You are the only person who loves making fun of me and my limited knowledge in math.”

Jeno, who was beside them holding his laugh, chimed in. "Did you try to solve it?”

“Why would I?”

“It’s because the answer is this,” He grabbed a pen to write ’ i<3u ’ at the bottom of the post-it. “It’s a confession, Renjunnie."

When the word 'confession’ came out of Jeno’s mouth, Donghyuck was not the only one to stop his activities to pay more attention to the post-its thrown at the table. A little crowd started to form around Donghyuck’s desk, who was laughing at the note. You were one of the teachers that eventually got closer to his desk and as Donghyuck’s fellow math teacher, you silently inspected the note as well. Renjun asked again if the math teacher wasn’t the sender, getting more and more frustrated by the minute with his friend’s negative response.

"If it wasn’t you, who sent this?”

“Your secret admirer,” Jeno smirked and Renjun felt like punching his face.

“Considering how childish this is, probably one of your students.” Park Jisung, P.E teacher, spoke, munching on his kimbap.

“15 year-olds love a reserved and mysterious artsy man who seems to hate everyone.” He continued, making Renjun scowl and Jeno laugh. “After Jeno, you’re probably the most popular teacher among students.”

“Do you want me to break your other arm, Jisung?” Renjun challenged, making the younger teacher close his mouth and pretend to zip it.

“It’s not childish,” you butted in, sheepishly smiling at the note. “I think it’s adorable.”

Donghyuck snapped his head towards you and scoffed, “Yeah, for 15 year-olds, not grown ass adults."

"I think it’s sweet and I’d love to get one of these from a secret admirer too.” you said, feeling the blood rushing to your face and a little self conscious about everybody’s judgmental remarks.

“I told you to stop projecting your high school dreams onto others,” he singsonged, while twirling the pen in his hand.

“Oh, shut up, Donghyuck!”

“And you make it pretty obvious too.” Donghyuck,who always sees right through you, giggled as you punched his shoulder.

“What?” you and Renjun asked at the same time

“Your crush on Renjun,” he muttered absently, scanning the exams he is grading.

“What- I don’t know- You-"

You staggered, trying to form a sentence but failing miserably. Your brain was too slow to process any words at the moment and the whole room seemed to move in a slow motion. Renjun, who was on the far left side of Donghyuck’s table, lifted his eyes to meet a very flustered you. Jeno, who was sitting right in front of you, turned his chair to see your reaction and even Jaemin and his student who were entering the room, stopped at the entrance when Donghyuck dropped the bomb.

"Mrs. Y/N has a crush on Mr. Huang?” Jaemin’s student asked, baffled by the math teacher’s confession and Jaemin intervened:

“Yah, Cha Yuna-”

This seemed to wake up Donghyuck’s senses, who realized he had slipped something he definitely shouldn’t have. The way your colleague had his cheeks painted in pink and his mouth ajar are enough to let you know that his thoughts were probably faster than the words his mouth could filter.

“I mean, we all have a crush on Renjunnie, don’t we?” Donghyuck tries to cover for himself, chuckling nervously. "Jeno buys him lunch every other day, simp behavior."

The thing about school is that it is one of the first and sometimes only socializing spaces for many, many students. Which means that their relationships usually revolve around the school grounds. Their conversation topics regard gossip about school events, the student body and the staff. And boy, these kids do love to talk.

You and Mr. Huang had the silent agreement of not mentioning what you called to be ‘just another Donghyuck joke’, so you have both led your routines just like you always had. The only difference was that you actively avoided Renjun for around 4 days after The Incident. You were too embarrassed to face him. Even though Donghyuck apologized profusely, saying how he really didn’t think he had said that out loud, and, somehow, managed to make everyone believe it was a joke, you were still unsure. Everyone could be pretty much pretending not to know the truth and your true feelings towards Renjun were just out in the open.

But while the staff seemed to have forgotten about it a couple of days after The Incident, the students didn’t. After that disastrous recess at the teacher’s office, the rumor about your crush on the art teacher spread like wildfire and it was especially fueled by the sight of you leaving Renjun’s car.

It was a particularly rainy Monday morning, when Renjun was driving to school and passed by you at the bus stop. Being the kind gentleman he is, he offered what was the most awkward ride ever, but you were thankful nevertheless. It’s better to stay in a warm car than in the freezing cold, even if it means having the shortest and most awkward conversations of your lives. The only problem was that ever since then, for the students, you became Renjun’s girlfriend.

Well, some theories said you were dating, some others said you were actually engaged and Mr. Lee had accidentally exposed your secret relationship and there were Renjun’s fangirls who would get into arguments to deny any alleged relationship between you and Renjun.

You really didn’t mind it because you knew soon the students would find a new target and the rumors would die. Eventually. But Renjun was most definitely not enjoying all that gossip. Not at all.

He looked visibly frustrated as you approached his desk, placing a cup of black coffee on it. You frown at the sight of a box of heart shaped chocolates at his table.

"Can you believe Cha Yuna just confessed to me?” He sighed and took a sip of the coffee you gave him. “First it was Jeno’s student, now this. What the hell is going on with these girls?”

“Oh,” you gave him a sympathetic smile. “You know how it is…Teenages tend to have a crush on people older than them.”

“I didn’t!”

“You didn’t have an impossible crush as a teenager? Not even a celebrity crush?” You raised a brow at him who just chuckled.

“The worst is that she even wrote this note asking me to break up with you and to wait for her. Can you believe that?” He scoffed and you took the seat beside him.

“Well, will you?” you asked playfully and he frowned in confusion “Will you break up with me and wait for her?”

“Should I?” he joked. “No, seriously, I’ll talk to Mrs. Kim today about this, I’ll ask her to talk to Yuna and give her the chocolates back.”

“Mrs. Kim won’t be coming to the school this week,” you said apologetically. “Didn’t you get her email about the conference?”

“I guess I’ll have to give it back to her myself…” Renjun groaned, making you feel bad about the situation he’s in.

“Is she leaving you uncomfortable?” he nodded.

“It’s not that… I just worry because I have been the most assertive I can to make sure she understands that I’m her teacher and over a decade older than her, but she doesn’t seem to take it seriously.”

“Do you want me to do it?” You asked, making him look at you with hopeful eyes. “I’ll talk to her.”

You should have not offered to do that. Honestly, you didn’t think straight, it just sucked to see him frustrated and pouty Renjun was too much for your heart, so you just blurted that out. Maybe a part of you also felt very guilty because part of his stress comes from the gossip running around the school about your non-existent relationship.

That day, you interrupted Mr. Na’s class to ask for Yuna and give her chocolates back. She’s Donghyuck’s student, but you like to think you have a good relationship with the student body in general, so you don’t worry too much about the situation. You waited for her to come out of the class and as soon as she saw the chocolates and the note in your hands, you realized you should have thought this through. You — whom she believed to be her crush’s girlfriend — were going to reject her on behalf of Renjun. Of course she was not gonna take it lightly.

She didn’t wait for you to open your mouth, grabbing the chocolates from your hands and stomping on the heart-shaped box until the floor had a mixture of chocolate, paper and broken plastic. When there was nothing else left to destroy, she looked at you with fire in her eyes before walking away and going back to class, silently.

You seriously thought this could unfold into a bigger problem in the future, but after that day you haven’t seen Yuna anymore and Renjun didn’t touch the subject either. Everything seemed fine,so you just assumed his student just needed to let her frustration out and some time to understand her feelings.

Oh, boy, how wrong you were…

A week or two after the rejection, Mr. Kim assigned some of Donghyuck’s classes to you to balance the teachers’ workload and that was when weird things started to happen to you.

First, your markers started to disappear, leaving you in a very disconcerting position when you looked for them in your bag, didn’t find them and had to go to the nearest classroom to borrow one from another teacher. You have never been the type to lose your personal belongings like that, but you guess you have been just forgetful lately.

Then, the air-conditioning starts acting up. On a particularly cold day, you called maintenance to turn it off since some students complained about it, but it would suddenly turn on in the middle of the class again and again.

The third situation made you become more alert and realize someone was probably messing with you. It was exam week, so you sat on your chair and just waited until the students were finished. When you stoop up, you feel something on your pair of jeans and see the gum glued to your clothes. Gum. Funnily enough, all of those only happened on Thursdays, in Cha Yuna’s class. No that it mattered, right? Coincidence.

Despite these three "accidents”, you were still reluctant to talk to Mrs. Kim because you didn’t want to sound crazy. How are you going to explain to her the situation? 'Oh Mrs. Kim, someone’s been turning on the air conditioner and I sat on gum the other day. I think the student who has a crush on Renjun is messing with me.’

It would just sound like a conspiracy theory, wouldn’t it? But after exams week, you couldn’t really avoid the situation anymore.

“What did you call me, Cha Yuna?” you slam the book on your table, making the whole class startled.

“Bitch,” she spat, “I called you a bitch.”

“Enough. Principal’s office.” you pointed to the door and she raised a brow, as if challenging you. “Now.”

“Or what?”

You feel your blood boil, and the urge to scream, grab the teenager by her hair and drag her to Mrs. Kim’s office was becoming tempting, but you kept your composure. “This is not a request, Cha Yuna.”

Her friends started to hush her to stand up, probably desperate to avoid getting their friends into any more trouble, but Yuna didn’t falter. She didn’t break eye contact with you.

After about 10 excruciating seconds of pure silence, she stood up hastily, making her chair screech, and grabbed her water bottle. You walk to the exit of the classroom, opening the door and before walking through it, she opened her bottle and threw the water on your face.

“BITCH!” She screamed and the whole class gasped. “YOU GIVE ME BAD GRADES, YOU STEAL MY-”

“CHA YUNA!” You and another voice screamed at the same time. In the hallway, you see a disheveled Renjun holding a box full of art supplies walking in your direction.

Needless to say, you became the talk of the school for a while. Yuna was suspended for three days, got a month of detention, and was transferred to another class. But Mrs. Kim didn’t let you and Renjun off the hook easily.

You talked to her separately about how this all started, from the rumors about you and Renjun to the day Yuna disrespected you in front of the whole class. And even though she managed to sort things out in a way neither of the parties involved would be uncomfortable (or have to deal with each other), the principal was adamant about how you dealt so poorly with the situation, starting by not telling her any of what happened before things went downhill. Considering you were both teachers and the situation was not entirely in your control, she just decided to give you a warning in the form of a task: tidying up the teacher’s office with Renjun for a month.

“I have a feeling they are using even more plates and cups now that we have to do the dishes,” you said drying the plate Renjun just handed to you.

“I’ve seen Jisung using three different knives today to make a simple peanut butter and jelly sandwich,” Renjun sighs looking at you defeated. “He blames his broken arm but I can see right through him.”

“I’ve seen Donghyuck using all his four mugs to drink coffee and leave them unwashed on the sink before going to his tutoring class."

"They’re definitely doing it on purpose.”

You chuckled, finishing up the rest of the dishes that are on the counter. “You know, this is my first time in detention.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I never got into detention in high school. I’ve always wanted to know what it was like.”

Renjun laughed wholeheartedly “So you’re saying this is our detention? As teachers?” you nodded and he smiled at you. “Well, I can’t say this is my first time though.”

“Ooh, so Mr. Huang Renjun was a bad boy in high school?” you joked, narrowing your eyes at him.

“I only got in trouble once, actually. Graffiti on the school’s wall."

"No way.”

“Yeah. It was a dare. I felt so cool as if I was a Bansky of sorts,” he said and you leaned on the kitchen sink, standing a little closer to him than before.

“What did you draw?"

"Oh, it was very cliché,” he shook his head, smiling sheepishly. “Anyways, I think we’re done, right? Do you need a ride?”

“Come on, Renjun,” you whined, pouting at him and stretching the last syllable of his name. “Tell me.”

“I don’t know, I can’t remember it was ages ago,” he tried to brush it off and walked to his desk.

“How come you can’t remember it? You just said it was cliché!”

“Y/N,” he warned, making you whine again.

“You’re embarrassed because it was a confession, right?” you beamed with his annoyance. “Oh my god, did you confess to your high school crush through graffiti on the wall? That’s so cute!”

“And you get mad when Donghyuck jokes that you project yourself into the high schoolers."

You looked at him unamused. "Yeah, my high school years sucked but I don’t project myself into the students. It would be a cute confession, though.”

“Well, it wasn’t a confession.” Renjun zipped his messenger bag and put it over his shoulder. “It was a factory named ‘school’ with people coming out of it and the lyrics of Another Brick in The Wall next to it."

"Are you joking?” you asked and he shook his head. “Why are you embarrassed of that?”

“Because it’s only cool and revolutionary for a sixteen year old who had just found a Pink Floyd disk in his mother’s basement,” he shook his head fond of the memory. “Now, I know smarter and less cringey ways of criticizing and fighting against the alienating educational system we live in.”

You laughed as you followed Renjun outside. The “detention” definitely played a part in making you become closer friends, which felt great. Renjun has always been nice and polite, but he was equally reserved to people he was not close friend’s with. And you did have to acknowledge that, before getting to know him, you felt silly at how your heart would beat faster just at the sight of him in the teacher’s office. You were like a high schooler who got a crush on the cool and popular guy but barely knew him, it felt ridiculous (Donghyuck made sure to point that out a couple of times. And call you a coward too for taking too long to approach him).

But as you get to know Renjun better, you realize he is so much more than that. He is kind, gentle, and hilarious. He might not crack a lot of jokes or be goofy all the time, but he has an impeccable comedic timing, he delivers the funniest lines ever, not rarely leaving you with tears in your eyes.

And wow he’s so intelligent. It’s unbelievably attractive how smart he is and the way he utters the words in a discussion is so elegant that you cannot not stop and listen to him. He could talk for hours and hours and you would never get tired of it because that’s just how compelling he is.

I mean, you like him a little (too much).

That’s exactly why on the last day of your detention, you find yourself in Renjun’s car heading to a restaurant: because you can’t say no to him. “It’s to celebrate that our detention is over,” he said, but you felt that there was something different going on. Or were you reading too much into this?

“I was surprised that other day,” he said, looking at the road ahead.

“By what?"

"You,” he smiled and you turned your head to him. “I was talking about that painting the other day and you immediately guessed Monet.”

“To be fair you mentioned Impressionism.”

“Well, I didn’t expect you of all people to know painters’ names.”

“I only know the famous ones,” you scratched your head sheepishly, smiling at him. “And why the surprise? Can’t a math teacher enjoy visual arts too?"

"It doesn’t really match with the stereotype, honestly,” he said playfully, making you punch his shoulder lightly. “Hyuck didn’t know who that was.”

“Hyuck is more of a music type of guy, though,” Renjun hummed in agreement, stealing a glance at you. When the car stopped at a red light, he turned to you.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” you turned your head to him again, signaling you were paying attention. “Was it you?”

“What?”

“The notes on my desk, was it you?” you stopped breathing for a couple of seconds as the question caught you off guard. Why was he asking about that? Everyone had forgotten about that thing ages ago, why now?

“Why are you bringing this up? It was months ago,” you laughed awkwardly, looking nervously at the traffic light that didn’t seem to be turning green anytime soon.

“Because I never got to know who sent them.” He leaned his body into the console, while you moved closer to the door. “Was it you or not?”

You heard cars honking behind you and Renjun went back to driving the car, not before giving you a look you couldn’t quite read. The question still hung in the air while an indie song played softs on his radio. You didn’t dare to speak a single word anymore.

“You know, I think the Dalí one was my favorite, but I wouldn’t have written it that way,” he glanced at you, who was suspiciously interested in the road ahead of you and refused to look to your left.

“What would you have written?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he teased, parking the car in front of the restaurant.

You both entered the restaurant and Renjun started a conversation about how that became his favorite restaurant in town, seeming to forget all about the question and how you left it unanswered. If it were for you, it would remain like that for the rest of your life. However, after drinking a glass or two of wine and a very exhausting week of work, you can’t expect much from your brain, can you?

As Renjun pays the meal (after you almost got physical for wanting to pay the bill, arguing that he spent with gas already), you take one of the paper napkins on the table and use the pen you keep in your bag to write him something. As he came back to the table to lead you outside, you stretched your arm, handing him the note and walking right out of the restaurant as fast as you could.

“if i were an artist you’d me my muse, jun”

You reached Renjun’s car and leaned on the parked vehicle, wondering if only two glasses of wine were enough to leave you so drunk to the point of becoming this reckless. Can you blame the alcohol tomorrow? Renjun didn’t drink and he knew you weren’t drunk either,maybe just tipsy. You should have just ordered something else, just like he did, but nooo, it was Friday and it was a tough week, you deserved a little alcohol! Now, you had to spend twenty awkward minutes with Renjun, who now had probably connected the dots and knew you had a stupid crush on him.

Okay, maybe it was time for a confession, but should you have done it through a note? Again? Like a stupid school girl?

You started to wonder if you should get an uber, because Renjun didn’t seem to be coming to his car. He was taking a little while. Maybe he was watching you from the restaurant’s window, hoping that you would go away and he wouldn’t have to drive you back to your apartment.

Your mental rant stops when he suddenly leaned on his car, but stood very, very close to you. Your shoulders touched and you could smell his expensive perfume, making your heart beat even faster than it was before. He didn’t say anything, just kept smiling as he handed you a folded napkin, just like the one you gave him minutes ago. He motioned his head towards it for you to open the note.

Are you Dalí’s painting? Because what I feel for you is surreal.

“I’m not as good as you, but-"

You kissed him.

"I think we make a pretty neat couple, don’t we?” you asked, linking your arms with Renjun’s. “I love colorful clothes, you’re into earthy tones. I teach math, you teach art. I hate spicy food, you love it. We’re living proof that opposites attract.”

“Oh, no, I can’t believe you’re saying we’re a cliché couple."

"What’s so wrong with cliché?” you pout and Renjun fights the urge to kiss you in the middle of the art gallery. “Cliché is good.”

“Cliché is overdone and predictable. How can it be good?”

“If it has been done a lot, it means it works.Isn’t it good?” You smiled, sneakingly giving him a quick peck on his cheek. “And you’re the one to talk about originality. An art teacher inviting his partner to an art gallery date? Really?”

“Oh,shut up! You were the one who brought up this exhibition,” he clicked his tongue, making you laugh.

“Just admit you want to dump random art facts at me so you can sound all smart and leave me hot and bothered,” you said jokingly, hoping Renjun won’t think much of the fact that you actually really get all hot and bothered when he is all focused and critical.

“Damn, you got me all figured out,” he huffed, faking annoyance and you smiled so prettily that he couldn’t resist kissing your lips.

On the next Monday, you both find out that one of your students was at the same exhibition and took a picture at the exact moment Renjun stole a kiss. When someone suggested in the comments that it could be you and Renjunon the background, thanks to his two-toned hair, it became chaos. Needless to say, you became the talk of the school. Again. And the most shipped couple in the school among students (a title that Jisung is fighting to revoke). What can you say, the opposites attract trope is really popular.

#nct scenarios #nct drabbles #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #nct dream scenarios #renjun fluff #renjun scenarios #renjun drabble #renjun x reader #nct dream x reader #nct x reader #nct fic #nct dream fic #nct dream drabbles #renjun fic

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rib-rabbitmask · 4 months

Text

I finally put myself to Read and re-read the "Reconnecting" (a DR Comic Au) by: Purple/Violet and... Gosh, i in love with this Women!! 💖

(Click 4 better quality)

Now i gonna drew so much about this Au and more other DR things (cuz i realize that i dont draw much about it, for pure lazy). Thank you for it Violet XD

Vivi belongs to: @purplebehittindifferent

Hope you like it <3

#undertale au #digital art #utmv #artwork #fanart #reconnecting #deltarune au #my art <3 #reconneting fanart #vivi fanart #YEAAHH #art

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witch-and-her-witcher · 4 months

Text

Intermediate

feysand | E | Corporate Mod AU

3.7k, part 2 (the shameless smut), tysm @popjunkie42 for reading this over and joking about excel with me 😘💖 (also, for giving me some killer lines to add in hehehe)

Warnings: technically dub con, but in a canon typical way

part 1

~☆~

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

As if Feyre was going to accomplish anything during the remainder of the day with the threat of the Teams messages from her boss hanging over her head.

It was finally happening, the reckoning Lucien kept warning her of for falling for yet another ungodly handsome, wealthy businessman.

‘You never learn’ she can already hear him saying with a shake of the head and a tap on the sticky bar top with shot glasses. It’ll be the first in a long line of tequila shots they’ll pound back to commiserate yet another solid job lost for both of them because of Feyre’s wandering eyes and insatiable pussy.

It’s kind of Lucien’s fault for always sticking his neck out for her to get her jobs. Especially jobs with such irresistible bosses.

Maybe she’ll start crying and tell Rhys exactly that when he tries to fire her. Throw Lucien right in the line of fire …

God, no, she owes him after the mess at their last job. And besides, as much shit as he gives her, she could never actually betray the prick.

But fuck, Feyre really thought she had it under wraps this time.

Well.

She hasn’t watched any of the Excel videos Rhys has sent her. Hasn’t done any of her work assignments on her own, sweet talking quiet Azriel from down the hall into doing it for her. There’d also been the whole ‘arm wrestling in the breakroom' incident between her and Cassian that had left a mess of shattered glass, blood from the cuts running down his arms and HR paperwork.

But it had all seemed charming at the time.

The company doesn’t really need another administrative assistant, they need a breath of spontaneity and creative spirit to spark their own wills to live.

Right?

Feyre worries at her bottom lip, stopping to readjust the lay of her golden-brown waves over her shoulder. Even if it would fall apart under a brisk wind, the dusty blue cheap suit jacket nips in just right at the waist, accentuating her tits — which look fantastic with the push-up bras she’s taken to wearing daily. Just in case.

Before knocking on Rhys’s office door, she debates one last time if she should pull her skirt up to show off her long, lean legs, or down to maintain some appearance of professionalism.

She tugs the material another inch up.

If you’ve got it, flaunt it, right?

She knocks on the door apprehensively.

And because she apparently has absolutely no sense of self preservation, she bumps into the office with her hip without waiting for a response.

Rhysand Night looks up from where he’s adjusting himself back into his pants.

Feyre’s jaw drops. Her face heats a thousand degrees hotter and she sputters an apology, trying to cover her eyes and managing to nearly drop the laptop she forgot was tucked under her arm in the process. She scrambles to keep a hold on it, grappling at the rectangular edges and eyes wide and drinking in the last sight of the monster laying between Rhysand Night’s legs.

No wonder her swaggers around like he’s packing heat.

There’s no remorse as Rhys runs his fingers through his mussed hair, nearly violet-blue eyes hazy and lips parted.

“Shit.”

Feyre gulps. “Yeah. Shit.” She backs towards the door, struggling not to drop the laptop again — really, why are they so awkwardly shaped and unbalanced? And why are her hands suddenly so clammy?

Why is she always so sweaty around this man?

“Where are you going?” Rhys’s voice is dark, husky, even lower than when he’d last spoken right by her ear like a rumbling lion “My, my, what are we going to do about that, darling?”

The number of times Feyre has gotten off to that single sentence is shameful. Perverted. Unhinged.

She needs to be locked up if this man is going to keep looking at her under his thick lashes, full lips forming around that sinful voice’s words … and flash his cock. Shit. It was only the tip she’d spied, but they way his hand had been gripping so much really told the story of girth and length —

“Feyre? Are you paying attention?”

Feyre clears her throat. “What?”

In a wholly uncalled for, ridiculously sexy manner, Rhys doesn’t bother to latch his belt closed. As if she’s already seen the goods, why bother looking professional. He leans against the back of his swivel chair and motions to the desk.

“I asked you to plug in your laptop. I want you to show me what you’ve learned.”

Learned? What, like, the impressive size of his cock? Or the fact that at any point in time during her short tenure under Rhysand Night’s employment she could have walked in on him with his dick out?

Is everyone masturbating freely around the place?

Did Feyre miss out on some kind of employee incentive program with her welcome packet, ‘Whacking It Wednesday’?

She feels like she’s losing her grip on reality.

“I didn’t take a picture or anything, I swear. I should have waited for you to answer before barging in —”

“What are you talking about?”

“What am I — what do you mean ‘what am I talking about’?!”

He uses his chiseled jaw this time to point her towards his desk. “You’re fine. I was just trying to clear my head before you arrived, it’s not a concern. But I do want to see what you’ve learned of Excel.”

Feyre feels compelled by those dark features, that come-hither scent of his expensive cologne. Against her better judgment, she steps closer to the walking sex god.

“Clearing your head?” she repeats, brow furrowed.

Rhys smirks. “All of the leading business people do it. There’s a Ted talk actually —”

“About people jacking off in their offices?”

His face falls at her words, the critical tone in her voice. Sternly, he asks, “Miss Archeron, what did I say about inappropriate comments?”

Feyre is hot all over and now she can’t tell if it's from embarrassment, lust or simply frustration. What the hell is he playing at? He’s the one with his cock out at the workplace, but he’s going to give her grief?

She comes closer.

How is he so imposing even leaning over?

The skyline behind him silhouettes his broad shoulders tugging at the fabric of his shirt. His inky black hair lays in tousles across his forehead. The sharp cut of his cheekbones are accentuated by the dimming sunlight. Shadows dance along his handsome face. He looks like a dark prince surveying one of his subjects.

She’s never felt so small as she does in the shadow of his critical, watchful gaze.

With an annoyed huff, she sets her laptop on his expansive, polished mahogany desk. The damn thing probably costs more than her entire flat. She can feel the hairs on the back of her neck prickle as he narrows his eyes on her.

It’s unfair how his proximity turns her brain into a hot, gooey mess of sexual thoughts and little else.

She’s Feyre fucking Archeron. It might not mean anything to anyone else, but she has her own sense of pride to maintain which includes not fawning over rich, powerful men at risk of her dignity, damn it.

She feels like prey being watched by a predator and it raises her hackles, makes her want to lash out.

“Well, show me what you’ve learned.”

Feyre slams her scan badge down on her laptop.

“I haven’t learned anything. Just fire me.”

He raises a brow at her. “Really? You’d give up just like that? Why did you even accept this job?”

Feyre crosses her arms and rolls her eyes. “Some of us have to pay bills. Sorry to hurt your feelings, but all of those pretty things people say in interviews are lies. No one really cares about working for your prestigious organization — they care about not having to move back in with their parents.

And because she’s feeling petty and fuck it, she’s getting fired anyway, she adds, “And as for this dark and mysterious act, I bet your hook ups are lying about how hot that is too. It’s not. It’s overplayed. And kind of creepy when you add in the whole jacking off in your office thing.”

“I think you’ll find your wrong on that, Feyre darling,” he says, eyes flashing with challenge. “Most people will stab their friends in the back for an opportunity to work at my organization. I have applicants lined out the door, all with prestigious degrees to match. As for the rest, it sounds like you’re awfully flustered thinking about me and my hook ups.”

“As if.” She scoffs. “Besides, what kind of hiring standards do you have if you hired me?”

Rhys steps around the chair, pushing it to the side and removing the buffer between them just as he pulls himself to his full height. Feyre presses her thighs together under her pencil skirt — tells herself it's just nerves. She swallows thickly as he shoves his hands in his pockets and stares down the blade of his aristocratic nose at her.

“Oh, darling, did you believe those pretty things you were told you about your qualifications?” He reaches forward, grasping a piece of Feyre’s hair between his fingers and rolling it. Feyre can’t seem to remember how to breathe. Rhys gives her a positively feline smile before exhaling, “They were lies.”

“Wh-what do you mean?” Feyre tries to back away, but her ass hits his desk and instead her breasts bounce with the impact. His gaze flicks down and then back up.

“I was going to fire you today. I told myself I needed to think with my head and not my cock. It’s truly an embarrassment to have someone so utterly unskilled on the same floor as me, as my top performers.” Feyre opens her mouth to protest, but he places one long finger over her lips. “Did you really think Azriel wouldn’t tell me? And I know about the friend in PR who has been doing the rest of the work for you.”

Shit. Sorry, Lucien …

Feyre tries to get her lips to move, get her mind to remember how to form words and string them together into semi-intelligible sentences.

She should only care about preserving her job right now.

But.

But now that Rhys is leering over her and there isn’t a chair in front of him, she can see that he hadn’t finished clearing his mind before she’d walked in on him.

The front of Rhys's trousers are bulging with lustful intent and a rock hard erection.

She licks her lips — forgets his finger, so the tip of her pink tongue swipes across that, too.

Fired. He’s going to fire her. Focus on that, not on the taste of salt on his skin that somehow is alluring and not repulsive. Don’t focus on how she wants to suck that long finger into her mouth, swirl her tongue around it with promise …

God, now that she’s gotten herself started, she won’t be able to stop.

Feyre fucking Archeron doesn’t fawn over rich, powerful men.

She also doesn’t follow rules. And it seems like it's time to bend this one.

Might as well go out with a bang, then.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Pardon?”

Rhys presses his thumb under her chin, tilting her face up and wrenching her eyes from staring at the outline of his massive hard-on.

“Are you … sure about that?” Feyre says breathily, gasping when he sticks his finger into her mouth when she finishes speaking. Effectively silencing her with that elegant, brown finger pressed down on her tongue.

She wants to squirm, but her heart is beating so quickly she’s pretty sure she’s going into shock. Feyre freezes instead, mouth hanging open, lower jaw caught between his thumb and finger.

Rhys is still staring down at her, nearly clinical in his assessment of her mouth, the bridge of her nose, the heavy weight of her lids suddenly.

“What are you offering, Feyre darling?”

She waits until he releases her tongue to speak. “No more Miss Archeron?”

Rhys growls and it shoots right to her cunt. Her insides tighten around nothing and it feels wrong wrong wrong even as moisture gathers in her panties.

“You’re a mouthy little thing, aren’t you?”

“You’re not very little yourself,” Feyre purrs back and in a rush of foolish bravery, she reaches out to grab between his legs. “Don’t fire me, let me prove I have other skills. I bet most people can’t handle you.”

Rhys dips down until his lips brush the shell of her ear as he speaks, “And you think you can?”

A shiver runs down her spine unbidden.

Feyre’s breath hitches, but she nods confidently.

Rhys’s low chuckle rumbles through them.

“I said I was done thinking with my cock.”

Rubbing two fingers back, she pushes through the fabric of his pants to skim his balls. Rhys inhales sharply. She presses her palm into the heavy weight of his shaft.

“C’mon, this is what all the leading business people do, right?”

Rhys’s head has fallen onto her shoulder as she strokes his length through his pants. His arms are bracketing her against the desk as he holds himself upright, biceps straining against the silken black fabric of his dress shirt.

“The point is to do it yourself to resist the temptation with a subordinate …” He groans as she slips her fingers under his waistband. “To not let lust addle proper decision making.”

Feyre tilts her head to let her hot breath skim along his neck. “That sounds boring.”

Her pulse is hammering between her legs and she’s pretty sure she’ll combust if she doesn’t get this man inside of her, filling her to the fucking brim. The skin of his cock is as silky smooth as his shirt, everything about him decadent and rich, rich, rich. Her thumb nail catches on the sensitive lip of the head of his cock, making him gasp, before she drags her fingertip along the precome slick tip.

Before she can get his pants undone, Rhys grabs her by the throat and presses her back flat on his desk. He looks completely ravenous, out of control as he stares down at her. His pupils are blown wide, swallowing up those pretty blue eyes. Feyre shouldn’t be as turned on as she is with her boss’s hand wrapped around her neck, but she’s hopeless as Lucien and her sisters have told her constantly, so with the hand that isn’t on his cock, she grips his wrist and pushes him harder against her windpipe.

A deep groan catches in the back of his throat.

“Fuck,” he says.

Feyre nods, using all of the pilates core strength to pick her legs up and rest her heels on the edge of the desk. Her skirt rides up lewdly as she spreads her legs to accommodate his presence between them, scoots her back up enough so she arches her breast upwards and lines their hips up as Rhys presses forward.

She rocks her hips forward, dragging her wet panties and aching core along his iron hard length. She whines under his hand.

“Fuck, darling, you’re a mess for me.”

Feyre bites her bottom lip and nods wordlessly again. There’s a niggling satisfaction as she thinks about ruining his outrageously overpriced pants. Rhys lets up his hold on her throat to reach down and run his fingers along her clothed slit, shuddering at the sticky mess he finds.

“I can take you, Rhys,” she says, grinding down against him.

“I’m sure you believe that,” he croons, pulling her panties aside to plunge two fingers mercilessly into her. Feyre arches upwards, moaning as he curls them upwards and catches the spongey, overly sensitive tissue inside of her. His massive hands easily reach inside of her and span to rub his thumb in tantalizing circles around the hooded bundle of nerves at her apex.

“You don’t?”

Rhy smiles devilishly at her, promising her demise. “I believe I’m going to ruin this pretty little cunt for anyone else.”

Feyre’s eyes shut as her mouth falls open, panting as he edges her into blissful ecstasy. “Do your worst.”

Rhys clucks his tongue in chastisement and removes his touch all at once. Feyre whines, starkly feeling the loss, the emptiness inside of her. She wiggles her hips, hoping to draw him back, but then she hears the zip of his pants and her eyes shoot open.

Pants shoved down to his thighs and thick cock in hand, Feyre swallows thickly at the sight.

Maybe she had been over confident.

The purple tip, the veiny shaft throbbing for her, the pretty balls — all hairless, perfectly manicured.

She hisses in pleasure as he rubs the head of his cock along her sopping wet opening. He doesn’t even bother to remove her panties, just pushes them to the side. She hooks a leg around his waist and tries to line herself up.

Rhys swats her clit with his cock.

“Behave, darling.”

“You know I won’t.”

Rhys looks down at her like a starving man.

He enters into her in one long, hard thrust and pushes all of the air out of Feyre’s lungs. She clutches desperately for something, anything to hold onto and lands with two fistfulls of his hair.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she pants, knees falling open in hopes to make more room for him inside of her suddenly impossibly small frame. “You’re so fucking big, oh my god.”

He doesn’t give her time to adjust before he’s languidly withdrawing from her insides and then plunging back in without mercy.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you, darling.”

Feyre throws her head back into the desk, not feeling a lick of pain as he sears a path of his very own through her. His, only his, wrecked for anyone else. He hadn’t been wrong.

“You’re so fucking big, Rhys,” she moans.

His teeth drag down her chest, taking off buttons without a care and exposing the perky flesh of her breasts where they bounce at the top of her bra.

“Louder.”

Feyre clamps down on her mouth, pressing her lips into a firm line. Like hell she’s going to let the whole office know what they’re doing.

“You can’t tell me what to do if you aren’t my boss anymore,” she sasses even as he starts to fuck her brains right out of her body.

Rhys doesn’t like that.

He draws back from the love bites he’s been leaving on her tits. Pens clatter and papers are sent skittering to the floor as he drags her body someone even closer to his. Feyre is worried her knock off heels are going to go flying right off of her feet the way they’re clinging to her ankles by only their plastic straps.

There’s nothing slow or sensual as he starts pounding into her, balls slapping against her ass and his hips digging into her as he grips her hips and presses her flush to him.

“I said,” he growls between thrusts, “Louder.”

Feyre scratches and scrambles at his chest for something to anchor her. The ache in her core has diminished as he fills her relentlessly, only to be replaced with a roaring fire of need that threatens to consume her entire being. Her abdomen clenches with building pleasure.

He doesn’t let up, instead tilting her up so he’s slamming right into the most sensitive parts of her.

Whatever stubborn hold on her voice she had fails her. Feyre lets loose a throaty “oh!” that has to rattle the panes of his opaque office windows.

“That’s right,” Rhys says, moving a thumb to rub her clit in time to his thrusts. “That’s right, darling. Let me hear it. C’mon, come for me, scream for me.”

“Rhys … Rhys … Rhys!” Feyre cries out, losing focus of everything except the mind-blowing tension in the pit of her stomach as it explodes.

Rhys comes apart like a great mountain shaking and erupting with molten passion. He paints her insides with his hot spend and it shatters the thin hold she still has on her sanity. The tremors of his cock spurting inside of her hurtles Feyre into another impossibly strong orgasm.

“Made for me,” Rhys is panting as she shakes underneath him. “There’s no realm of existence where my hand was going to replace the feel of that tight little cunt of yours. God, your ass.” He squeezes the flesh of her backside. “I knew I couldn’t resist you from the moment you stepped into this building, Feyre darling.”

For several minutes, his office is only filled with their ragged breathing. When he pulls out of her, Feyre groans weakly. His belt buckle clinks as he rights himself and collapses into his chair.

Feyre sits up, unabashed as she feels the mixture of their climaxes coat her thighs with the movement. She’s making an absolute mess of his desk and she feels no remorse over it.

Rhys reaches around her and comes back with a pair of glasses, putting them on with a whoosh of air. A great exhale to collect himself.

“Well, that …” He rubs his brow, then looks up at her with undeniable smug pride. “That was something else.”

Feyre gives him a lopsided smile, dropping her cheek to her shoulder, letting her hair cascade to the side and expose her breast under the torn open blouse.

“Thinking clearer now?”

He hums thoughtfully, steepling his fingers in front of his sensual lips. Feyre realizes she hasn’t tasted them yet, realizes they’ve just fucked fully clothed on his desk and haven’t even kissed.

She had things under wraps? Yeah, right.

Hopeless.

Instead of kicking her to the curb with nothing but a final pay check and come soaked panties, Rhys pulls her to straddle his lap. His broad hand warms her lower back.

“Not quite clear enough. Think you could help some more?”

Feyre grins down at him.

“Whatever you need, boss.”

#feysand #feyre x rhys #acotar #acotar fanfic #feyre #rhys #my writing

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studentinpursuitofclouds · 16 days

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hi mousey! i hope ur having a good day! :]

if it’s not too much to ask, may i request the farmer reacting to haley (or the bachelorettes) wearing their clothes?

Sorry, dear anon, but your ask confused me a bit. Farmer's reaction? That's probably not what you meant, as everyone has their own individual OC Farmer who will react differently to a situation. I mean, Farmer (in game) kinda have a canon but still... Maybe you meant like "the bachelorettes react to the Farmer catching them in their clothes"? Hope I got it right. Thanks for the ask! 💖

_________________________________________

Penny:

Penny didn't understand why she did it. She finds it hard to explain the logic of her action, but the feel of the Farmer's clothes on her body, their scent helps the ginger girl not feel so alone. Their long t-shirt gives Penny a reminder that her Farmer will be back from their adventures soon, that they'll be okay, that they love her, and she'll always be waiting for them to come back. "I'm home, love." And when did Farmer have time to return so soon? Or had the young teacher been so engrossed in her book that she hadn't noticed how quickly the time had flown by. From the Farmers' smile and their stares, Penny immediately realized what they were trying to say. Her cheeks flushed, but she would no longer hide her face in embarrassment behind the pages of her book, no. Instead, she would look her spouse in the eye, and with all the tenderness and love she could muster say, "I missed you..."

Haley:

The first time Farmer caught their blonde wife in their clothes was in the kitchen early in the morning. Haley was standing at the stove making an omelette for breakfast, and she was wearing Farmer's shirt, which was a size too big for her, but she didn't really care. The cloth was soft and nice, and it smelled like her partner (thankfully not like the grass she was allergic to). When Haley heard her spouse's voice from the other room, she pretended to be heavily absorbed in making breakfast. Finally the Farmer walked into the kitchen to ask if Haley had seen their shirt, but immediately stopped when they found what they were looking for. "Breakfast is ready, dear" the blonde said, giving the most innocent look, but her cheeks still poured a slight blush under Farmer's gaze. It would seem, what was so special? But Haley, their beautiful, smart and funny Haley, dressed in their clothes, with a smile on her face and red cheeks, were to Farmer the most beautiful sight they had ever seen.

Abigail:

Abigail's eyes just glistened with delight when she saw the new adventurer's uniform on Farmer. Comfortable, leather armor, long red cloak, lots of belts with a holder of small elixirs, long boots with shields... So cool! Oh, and Farmer looks good~ The purple-haired girl knows that Farmer needs these clothes to keep themself safe in the Mines, but she was so eager to try them on, which she did sneakily while her spouse was in town on business. Abby admires herself in the mirror from every angle, now and then posing and getting into battle stances with her steel sword. "You look wonderful," Abigail almost dropped the weapon from her hands in surprise, turning around to the source of the voice. Farmer stood near the door, arms crossed, clearly enjoying the sight before them. Abigail began to feign indignation about someone peeking, to which Farmer smugly remarked, "someone took their clothes." But as they joked lightly with each other, Farmer pulled a something out of the bag and handed it to Abby. It was another adventurer's outfit, and she showered Farmer with hugs and kisses.

Leah:

Since Leah moved to the farm after her marriage, she has never known what it's like to be cold without in her small cabin. But it's a winter right now, and you want to wrap yourself in a warm blanket or a cozy sweater and drink a cup of hot coffee. The coffee is ready, but there is no blanket nearby. Leah's violet eyes immediately focused on Farmer's sweater that was lying on the chair. She reached for the cloth and immediately put it on. Usually sweaters are scratchy, but this one was so cozy and soft that the artist closed her eyes at the pleasant feel of the fabric against her skin. When the Farmers entered the living room half an hour later and placed their cup of tea on the table, they sat down beside a sleepy Leah, gently tucked her ginger curl behind her ear, and smiled warmly. "I'll never see that sweater now, will I?" "Yep." But Farmer didn't mind that at all.

Emily:

Every day Emily's mind is filled with new sewing ideas. How many different dresses and shirts she can create, how many new accessories can come out from under her sewing needle. So many good ideas! Almost all of the items that Farmer's wear are handmade by their hardworking wife. The quality of the fabric is always the best, the selection of colors always harmonious, clothes for all occasions. At times, she glances a newly sewn thing and her soul can't get enough of how perfect and successfully she has created these clothes. She even wonders if she should switch up her look this week, like the Farmer's clothing style? She tries on their clothes and examines herself closely in the mirror. Oh yeah, it's not bad at all! So - she needs to sew again, but this time for herself. Emily didn't immediately notice that the Farmer had been watching her for about five minutes now, and the adoration with which they were looking at the always positive Emily. "That sure looks good on you."

Maru:

Oh, no... Her latest invention got machine oil all over her clothes. Now Maru needs to wash them. But the rest of her clothes are also washed and not yet dry. Now what to do? Hmm... Although, what is there to think about - Farmer's shirt and pants are lying on the bed, so the young inventor doesn't need to worry any further. Maru figured that Farmer wouldn't mind, since she was in such trouble. Speaking of the Farmer, here they were, standing in front of Maru. The girl immediately explained the situation and asked if the Farmer minded? Mind? By the look of their red cheeks, they're all for it! Farmer has to admit that the Maru look so good in their clothes that they even think about faking a random event with machine oil again.... What? Ah... probably shouldn't have said that out loud, as Maru raised an eyebrow questioningly. But then she said, "The clothes are comfortable and I don't mind to wear, so no need to ruin the rest of your stuff with machine oil."

#have a good day too! :D #sdv #sdv haley #sdv abigail #sdv leah #stardew valley #sdv emily #sdv maru #sdv penny #thanks for the ask!

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