#Land and Sea Brewing

[teavyy]

haiiiiiiiiii hi haiiiiiiiiii mrrp mew meoww mrrp nya mreow :3c

In response, (Bottom) hiiiii~~~ haiiii~ mreow mrrrp mrrp mew mrrrrrrm hiii :333

(English) Good evening indeed, I myself am faring quite well as of the moment, most recently having poured myself a glass of exquisite brandy, thank you for asking. Now, I simply must inquire how you yourself are doing my dear anonymous fellow.

[fieriframes]

[The Brew Pub pairing suds and true, he’s cut all ties with academia. Holy cannoli.]

[blossomingmoonlight]

⭑ The ballad of the raven and the dragon ⭑

A/N: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!!!!!! PLEASE KIERAN BURTON ONE CHANCE JUST ONE!!!!!!!!

Pairing: Benjicot ("Davos") Blackwood x targ!princess!reader

Summary: Being the only daughter of queen Rhaenrya and the heir to the throne is not easy, after convincing your mother to let you patrol near the riverlands you come across a battle where you meet the infamous Bloody Ben.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: NSFW, mdni, smut, burning brackens, making out, dry humping, oral (f receiving), oral (m receiving), wine play, vaginal sex.

It was another grey and windy morning at Dragon Stone. The sea waves crashing against the cliffs, dragons roaring in the sky. War was brewing and so was the tension at Dragon Stone. Being heir to the iron throne was heavier than you thought, the meetings with the black council were getting more dreadful and your mother, the queen, more protective of you and your brothers by the day. Ever since Ser Arryks intrusion she had more guards on watch and you were rarely allowed to leave, especially because you are the queen's only daughter and heir. 

However this morning after begging her to let you patrol the lands, she finally gave in, only for a short while. So your handmaiden quickly helped you change and put your hair up for the flight. Practically running towards the cave, you could barely pace yourself to get to your dragon. She was big for her age and almost as fierce as Caraxes. After getting on her, she felt your excitement and quickly flew out. After a while of flying around Dragon Stone you decided to go a bit further, near the riverlands. 

When you were getting closer high in the sky, you spotted some people near cow fields and a mill, so to take a closer look you descended down enough so you could see them better. Just to check if you didn’t come across the greens knights. Now being lower you could hear some yelling, and then their clothes became more apparent. Around four or so in yellow and brown and the other 4 in black and red, which in the riverlands only meant one thing. Brackens and Blackwoods. However they did not seem to notice you, too caught up in the argument. You were debating on landing out of curiosity but quickly made your decision when swords were drawn and a fight broke out. 

Then you noticed that more Brackens turned up, you knew they declared for Aegon and even though your mother told you not to engage, you never turned away from a fight. You quickly descended with your dragon and she let out a shrieking roar. The faces of the men looked up but there was no time for the Brackens to run as you commanded, “Dracarys!”. Your dragon incinerated a good half of the brackens, the other now starting to run. You quickly turned the two of you around to get on their heels and burn the remaining of them. Your body filled with adrenaline and you dragon roaring with triumph and excitement herself you heard the victorious chants of the Blackwood men down below. 

So deciding to officially meet your allies you landed near them, seemingly their commander already heading towards you. As you stood on the ground you met him halfway and could barely hold in your smile at the sight of him. Never had you seen someone as fierce, unique and handsome looking as him. “My princess, thank the gods for you and your dragon. You saved us many men.” He greeted you with a grin. “It was my pleasure, any green I see I’ll turn black.” He laughed at that, took a step closer and gave you a soft bow with his head. 

“However exciting I find to burn my enemies, this was still unnecessary my lord. I don’t remember my mother giving out orders to kill Brackens.” You lectured, your tone a bit more serious now. Even though it was thrilling, your mother would surely hear of this and get upset. “I understand your grace but those cunts deserve death, anyone who stands with the usurper does.” The fearsome lord gritted out. “But I do apologise, I meant no offence to her grace the queen…or the beautiful princess.” He said that last part softer and with a smile. 

You felt like a little girl again, blushing at his words. “I know you didn't, my lord.” He smiled again and you felt your skin heat up beneath your clothes, there was just something about him...a certain mischief. “Raventree Hall is not too far your grace, I would like to offer you some wine and food for your troubles.” He petitioned. “It was no trouble my lord but I’ll take that offer. I assume you’re on horseback?” You smiled. “Yes your grace, you could ride with me if it pleases you.” He offered. “Have you ever flown on a dragon my lord?” The words left your lips before you could even think about them. The lord of house Blackwood made you say and do things you never thought you would for a man. 

“I haven’t your grace, what are you suggesting?” He looked at you with a mix of curiosity and nervousness on his face. “Fly with me, it’s faster and more fun.” Your words surprised him and he seemed to debate on whether he should. But Benjicot Blackwood was a brave man and at this moment he would do anything to please the princess, even risking his life on a dragon's back. His men cheered behind him and one of them even pushed him in your direction. “Even if I didn’t want to, it looks like I have no choice.” He chuckled. 

“Well let’s go then.” You walked over to your dragon who didn’t seem to love the idea but always did as you commanded anyway. When you were seated, you asked your dragon to lower herself a bit for Lord Blackwood “Ivestragī zirȳla va.” and she did, almost with a grunt.  He climbed on behind you in the saddle as you scootched a bit forward to make room for the tall man. “Ready?” You asked him, grabbing the reins, his men moving out of the way before you. “I think so.” He said, holding on to your waist, which totally didn’t make your heart skip a beat. “Sōvēs.” The second the word left your lips, your dragon started to move, taking some steps before rising into the sky, wings flapping. You could hear the men below you gasp and cheer and felt the lord's hands holding on tighter to your waist. 

After some time of soaring through the skies, Raventree Hall finally came into view. With a loud thump your dragon landed on the ground and you showed lord Blackwood on how to get off, after he got off as well he grinned and led you to the gates of Raventree Hall, the tall weirwood tree looming not too far away. Following Lord Blackwood through his home you were greeted by the guards and servants roaming the place, all with a polite bow or curtsy and a soft “your grace” or “princess”. When you arrived in the big dining hall, it was empty except for you two and some guards. 

Sitting opposite to each other at the table he had a servant fetch some wine, bread, cheese and fruits. “Do you have a favourite fruit or cheese princess?” He asked while removing his gloves. “I wouldn’t want your servants to go out of their way, really anything is fine.” You smiled, cautiously observing his handsome face and veiny hands. He still had some blood on his face, which somehow made him even more alluring. When the food and wine arrived he sent the few guards and servants away and poured you some wine himself. “Thank you my lord.” You said politely, hands in your lap as you watched his tall figure looming over you behind your seat, putting the goblet in front of you. Pouring himself some too he sat back down.

“My princess you needn't call me ‘my lord’, please call me Ben.” His request surprised you but you gave him a smile and nod nonetheless. “Alright... I will.” He took a sip of his wine and looked at you shamelessly. Normally you hated men looking at you like that, but him doing it- made you hot and flushed. “I know it has been a year already but I still wanted to say how sorry I was to hear of your father. I didn’t know him well but I knew he was fierce on the battlefield.” You spoke softly. “Thank you, I must admit that seeing those Brackens today triggered some grief I still had left.” He looked down as he spoke. “I’m so sorry, I know how it feels to have your father taken by the stranger. It will get better, if there is anything I can do for you.” 

He looked at you with kind eyes. “You are too kind, and quite fierce on the battlefield yourself.” He complimented you, now with his mischievous smile back on his face. “Thank you.” You glanced around the empty room before you spoke again. “Do you- have a wife?” You almost stumbled over your words, the question wasn’t disgraceful... but how it was perceived could be. “No, the war and finding my place as new lord of Raventree Hall have kept me busy. It gives me space to...explore and experience, I guess.” He said looking at you once again- did he just look at your chest? “I see. A man is lucky enough to do that, many even continue to explore and experience well into marriage.” You said with a certain jealousy behind it. You seemed to both understand the meaning behind your words, the impure meaning. 

The winds blowing through the cold Raventree Hall made the room cool your heated conversation down a bit but your want for him couldn’t be blown away. Your eyes met each other and you couldn’t help but notice a certain change in demeanour from him. “Have you had the opportunity to explore or experience much in life yet princess?” The way he said the words, low and almost raspy, made your breath catch in your throat. “No.” You said soft and meek. He paused before he dared speak his next words. “Have you ever wondered what it’s like…” His tone was still low and soft. “Yes-” You answered quickly, you wanted nothing more than his touch. 

Before you could protest he rose from his seat, walked to the hall doors and opened them. You thought you had perhaps scared him off but then you heard him speak to the guards outside the door. “The princess has a delicate matter to discuss with me, so take your leave for the night. Make sure no servants pass here.” You could hear a hushed ‘yes my lord’ and footsteps leaving as he closed the doors again. On instinct you stood up and he walked over to you. Looking at each other's eyes and lips once more he surged forward and crashed his lips against yours. His strong grip on your waist and lips moving against yours made a soft moan escape your lips. He moved you tighter against him and your arms were holding on to his back.

His veiny hands moving down to your ass and gripping it tightly caused your clothed pussy and his hardening cock to grind on each other making him groan against your lips. Pausing the kiss for a moment you begged him to do it again. “I have a better idea.” He mumbled against your lips, giving you a chaste kiss as he moved you towards the table. With your ass now touching the edge of the table his hands moved to knead your breasts before lifting you up on the table and standing between your legs. He held onto you before kissing you again, your own hands moving to his dark hair. 

Bringing you close again he started to grind his hard on right against your clothed cunt, making you moan and whine into his mouth. He left your lips to kiss along your jaw, sucking on your neck next. “Please- harder...feels so good.” You pleaded. “Fuck-” He muttered against your neck, now full on humping you like a dog, panting and cussing underneath his ragged breaths. The table was croaking and scratching the floor from the movements. Your hands held on tighter in your hair as you felt your orgasm wash over you, sudden and unknown but you never felt this amount of pleasure. As the pleasure overtook you you held your breath, his moans now becoming louder as well. “Feels good- doesn’t it pretty princess? Just wait until I fuck you on my cock.” His dirty words made you gasp and whine in response before he sadly stopped his movements. Instead he started removing your clothes, you quickly helped, once left in your undergarments and chemise he started to remove his own clothes as well, leaving him in just his breeches, the thin fabric gave you a full view of the big tent that his hard cock created. 

You couldn’t stop your hand from wanting to touch his cock, his breath hitched as your fingers touched his tip. “Does that feel good?” You asked in a seductive tone, you knew what you were doing and this newfound sinful power made you wonder what else you could do to him. “Ohh yesss.” He shuddered, “Just like that-” Your hand now fully grasped his cock moving the skin over his tip underneath the cloth. “S-stop, fuck, before you make me cum already.” Ben said with a breathy chuckle. Setting you back on the table he removed the remainder of your clothes, at the sight of your breasts he paused and couldn’t help but stare. Throwing the rest of your clothes on the floor he reached behind you and grabbed the goblet of half filled wine. “Shall we make this memorable?” He smiled mischievously. You could only nod and look at him with slight confusion, but it all became clear when he tipped the goblet over by your left breast, wine trickling down your nipple before Ben moved to lick it up and suck on the skin. You inhaled at the sensation. 

Moving to your right nipple he once again let some wine flow down your breast before he licked it up again. He kissed you once more. Then he licked your lips and sank to his knees. Your brows furrowed in confusion but you were excited for what he was about to do next. He started to kiss up your legs, kneading your thighs and hips. Your eyes rolled back at the sight before you. His head now moved between your thighs, moving the cup right above your already wet cunt he tipped it over again letting wine spill over your pussy and again he didn’t fail to lick it up. 

But this time it felt a thousand times better than your breasts. A gasp and moan left your mouth and you grabbed his head for support when he repeated the action, however this time he started to suck, lick and devour you. Putting the wine on the ground he grabbed your hips to hold you still as he went in like you were his dinner. “Gods- please- Ben!” You could never keep quiet with the way his tongue was fucking you now. And due to your sensitivity from your previous orgasm, you came undone in a matter of seconds, coating his face in your arousal. 

“Thats a good fucking girl.” He smiled leaving soft kisses on your mound before rising again. “Please, please take me. Bend me over the table and take me Ben.” You breathlessly begged. With a look of pure lust on his face he did as his princess told. Moving you off the table and turning you around he bended you over, your breasts pressing against the hard table. Hurriedly removing his breeches, he lined up his hard cock with your entrance. Using his tip to spread around your juices. “Seven hells-” He groaned as he let his tip slip inside you. You moaned and gripped the table for support as he now slowly sank into you. 

“You okay? Can I move?” He asked breathlessly. “Yes- please I’m fine- just fuck me already-” He wasted no time and grabbed your ass cheeks as he fucked into you. Gaspes, pants and moans filled the room as he pounded harder into you. He couldn’t help but slap your ass and grip it harder making you roll your eyes back in ecstasy. The table shook underneath you and now you understand why he even sent the guards outside away. 

The noises of sweaty skin slapping against each other, the moans, the cusses, the pleading, panting and creaking of the table spurred Benjicot on even more. Lifting your right leg so your knee was resting on the table as well allowed in to fuck you even deeper. His cock now fully hitting your cervix. He had to remind himself who he was fucking and that he couldn’t fill you with his cum. That became an even more difficult task as he could feel the walls of your pussy clenching around him tighter making him moan your name with each pound into you. 

Moving his fingers to your clit while thrusting into you, moaning your name against your shoulder you came with a moan of his name. Benji quickly pulled out and you turned around “On your knees.” He commanded, and you did. You had a feeling of what he wanted and opened your mouth, with a smile Ben put his leaking cock in your mouth as you started sucking. His moans became louder again and he filled your mouth, cussing as he came too, swallowing his cum he caressed your cheek before helping you up. Heavy breaths filled the room and breathy laughs from you both. He pulled you closer and you held each other for a bit.

Until you had to break the silence. “No one can know Ben.” You spoke resting your chin on his chest when you looked at him. “I know.” You shared a solemn smile before you pulled away from him reaching for your chemise on the ground. “Let me keep it.” He stammered. “Why would-” He took it from you. “Because, when you leave I’ll have something of you. And when I am lonely at night...I could relive the memory of my cock deep in your cunt.” He spoke lowly. “Okay.” You smiled, giving him a light kiss before getting dressed. Anxiety filled you as your mother must be worried by now. “I do have to leave now.” You said after Ben got dressed as well. “I know.” You kissed each other one last time before you left with your dragon, soaring through the sky as your heart hurt at the thought of not being with him.

[phantom-air-pirate]

Tag dump: Relationships

[maehemthemisfit]

THINKING ABOUT HOW...

Whenever you lay on TIGHNARI'S lap, his tail always seems to end up resting over your neck. It smells good from all the oils he lathers on it, and it keeps you warm. He likes when you card your fingers through his fur, it's calming, and whenever you stop he immediately knows the battle to keep your eyes open was lost to slumber. More often then not, you'll wake up to his tail tickling your chin or just straight up smacking you in the face. Sometimes it's intentional, but it's more like a pillow being thrown in your face.

KAZUHA would always be prepared if you ever experienced sea sickness in his travels, teyvat's equivalent of ginger ale and crackers quite literally on deck. He'll hold your hair back if you ever throw up and brew you herbal teas to drive the nausea away. He'll also rub comforting circles on your stomach if you give him permission, kissing away the pain and reassuring that you'll reach land soon.

If you're insistent enough, CYNO would let you play in his hair. His job is quite stressful, so feeling your fingers glide through his hair would literally put him to sleep most times. He might leave a braid or two you made in his hair and play with it whenever he thinks about you. He'll also show it off to Tighnari.

XIAO can't help but hide his face whenever you trace the markings on his arm or stomach (it's canon idc). He questions why you find the act so amusing and when you pull away he instinctively pulls your hand back, then becomes all bashful when he realized what he did. Is quick to urge you to continue and say "W-Why you'd stop? I never said I was against it..." Or something along those lines.

The Aranaras are always dancing around WANDERER no matter the occasion. They're always on his heel and you often spot him running away from a group of them, "Quit following me!" Leaving his lips. It's hilarious. He'll invite you for some tea and one of them would be perched on his head with that dopey smile :] He's exhausted, but he's secretly fond of them, especially the one you said looked similar to him (the blue one with the pretty hat), though he'll never admit it.

𓋜 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝. ꒱ 𖥔 ° . *

[its-avalon-08]

can i request max, oscar or logan x reader

he started talking to her because of a bet but he fell in love with her and is scared to come clean..she accidentally finds out and is hurt but he tries to fix things (sorry a little cliche but i do love this trope)

was it worth it? (op81)

✦ pairing - oscar piastri x female!reader

✦ genre - it started off as a bet, a LOT angst, alot of tears

The club was alive with pulsating beats, flashing lights, and a sea of bodies moving in sync with the rhythm. The scent of perfume, cologne, and sweat filled the air, mingling with the sharp tang of alcohol. Oscar Piastri sat at a corner table with a few of his fellow drivers, the remnants of laughter hanging in the air from a joke Pierre Gasly had just told.

Oscar sipped his drink, his eyes scanning the crowd absentmindedly until they landed on a woman dancing with her friends. She moved effortlessly to the music, her laughter ringing out above the din. She was stunning, with a radiant smile that seemed to light up the room. For a moment, their eyes met, and she offered a coy smile before turning back to her friends.

"Who are you staring at, Piastri?" Lando Norris nudged him, following his line of sight. A mischievous grin spread across Lando’s face. "You like what you see?"

Oscar shook his head with a chuckle. "She’s just…really pretty."

"Pretty enough to go talk to?" Charles Leclerc teased, leaning in with a knowing look.

Before Oscar could respond, Pierre chimed in. "I bet you can’t get her number."

The challenge hung in the air, a playful smirk on each driver's face. The conversation quickly escalated into a full-fledged bet, the terms becoming more outrageous with each passing second. Finally, it was settled: whoever could sleep with her first would win.

Oscar felt a pang of discomfort at the idea. It was stupid, juvenile, but the competitive atmosphere among the drivers was hard to resist. With a sigh, he stood up, brushing off his nerves.

"Fine, I’ll go talk to her," he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

As he weaved through the crowd, the music seemed to grow louder, the lights brighter. He approached her, heart pounding, rehearsing what he would say. She noticed him as he neared, a curious smile playing on her lips.

"Hi, I’m Oscar," he said, his voice barely audible over the music.

"Y/N," she replied, her smile widening. "Nice to meet you, Oscar."

Her voice was warm and inviting, and any remaining apprehension melted away. They started to chat, and to his surprise, the conversation flowed effortlessly. She was witty, intelligent, and kind—everything he found irresistible.

"What brings you here tonight?" he asked, leaning in to hear her better.

"Just out with some friends," she replied, gesturing to the group she had been dancing with. "What about you?"

"Same," he said, glancing back at his table. "Just needed a break from work."

"Work? What do you do?" she asked, genuinely interested.

"I’m a Formula 1 driver," he said, trying to sound casual.

Her eyes widened in recognition. "Oh, that’s impressive! I’ve heard about you guys, but I’ve never met one in person."

They talked for hours, the bet forgotten as Oscar found himself drawn deeper into her charm. They laughed, shared stories, and even danced a little. The connection was undeniable, and by the end of the night, he felt something real brewing between them.

"Can I get your number?" he asked as the night was winding down.

She smiled, taking his phone and entering her number. "I’d like that."

As they parted ways, Oscar couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and guilt. The bet loomed in the back of his mind, but the night had been too perfect for it to matter. He had genuinely enjoyed her company, and he was determined to see her again.

He returned to the table, greeted by cheers and jeers from his friends. "Well, did you get her number?" Lando asked, a smug grin on his face.

Oscar nodded, holding up his phone. "Yeah, I did."

"Looks like you’re in the lead," Pierre said, clapping him on the back.

Later that night Y/N and Oscar were in his hotel room. His lips latched on her neck as she let out a soft moan. He loved that sound as he sucked on the sweet spot. His hands travelled down and pulled her closer. Her perfume filled the air as dresses came off and shirts were unbuttoned.

(sorry i don't write smut)

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. Y/N stirred, her head resting on Oscar’s chest, her hand splayed over his heart. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat was soothing, a comforting reminder of the night they had shared.

Oscar lay awake, staring at the ceiling, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The previous night had been perfect—more than perfect. He had never felt such a connection with anyone before, and the realization both thrilled and terrified him. The bet, however, loomed in the back of his mind, a dark cloud over an otherwise beautiful morning.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand, a sudden intrusion into the peaceful silence. He reached over carefully, trying not to wake Y/N. A notification flashed on the screen: a group message from the drivers congratulating him, along with several payment notifications. They had all transferred their share of the bet money.

His stomach churned with guilt as he read the messages:

landonorrizz: "Looks like you won, mate! Enjoy the spoils!"

pierreakatripod: "Didn’t think you had it in you, Piastri. Well done!"

charlesadoptivefather: "Payment sent. Drinks on you next time!"

Oscar's face paled, the reality of the situation hitting him like a freight train. He had won the bet, but at what cost? His feelings for Y/N were real, but this tainted the purity of their relationship. He knew he had to come clean, but the thought of losing her was unbearable.

As he was lost in his thoughts, Y/N stirred beside him, slowly waking up. She blinked a few times, her eyes adjusting to the light, and then she smiled up at him, her expression warm and content.

"Morning," she murmured, her voice still thick with sleep.

"Morning," he replied, forcing a smile.

She snuggled closer, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. "Last night was amazing. I’m so glad we met, Oscar."

His heart ached at her words, knowing he was keeping something from her. "Yeah, it really was."

Just then, she noticed his phone in his hand, the screen still lit up with notifications. "Who’s messaging you so early?"

Oscar’s grip tightened on the phone, panic rising. "Oh, just the guys. You know, racing stuff." Y/N giggles and settled back down on his chest.

fast forward 11 months

Eleven months had passed since that fateful night in the club. Oscar and Y/N’s relationship had blossomed into something beautiful and profound. They had moved in together, creating a cozy home filled with love and laughter. Their days were spent sharing dreams and planning futures, their nights wrapped in each other’s embrace.

One sunny afternoon, they had some friends over for a casual get-together. Lando, Charles, Carlos, Max and Pierre were all lounging in the living room, the air filled with the sounds of friendly banter and laughter. Y/N was in the kitchen, preparing snacks while Oscar chatted with the guys.

"Hey, remember when we thought Oscar wouldn't have the guts to talk to Y/N?" Lando joked, nudging Charles.

Charles laughed. "Yeah, and look at them now. Guess that bet was the best thing that ever happened to him."

Oscar’s heart skipped a beat, a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. "Lando, don’t—" he started, his voice tense.

But it was too late. Y/N stepped into the room just as Lando continued, oblivious to the growing horror on Oscar's face.

"Come on, Y/N knew about the bet, right?" Lando laughed. "You know, the one where we dared Oscar to get her number and then see who could sleep with her first? Classic stuff."

The room fell deathly silent. Y/N stood frozen, the tray of snacks trembling in her hands. Her face paled, her eyes wide with shock and betrayal. The words hung in the air, echoing painfully in the sudden stillness.

"W-What?" Y/N's voice was barely a whisper, her eyes darting to Oscar. "A fucking bet?"

Oscar jumped up, his heart pounding. "Y/N, I can explain—"

But she was already backing away, her eyes filling with tears. "So it was all a lie? Our entire fucking relationship started because of a bet?"

"Y/N, please, it’s not what you think," Oscar pleaded, his voice desperate. "It started that way, but it became real. I fell in love with you. I love you."

"How can I believe anything you say now?" she cried, the tears spilling over. "Was anything real, Oscar? Was any of it real?"

"It was, it is!" Oscar insisted, stepping toward her. "I made a mistake, a stupid mistake, but everything after that night was real. You have to believe me."

She shook her head, the betrayal cutting deep. "How could you do this to me? How could you let me fall in love with you knowing this?"

Oscar’s heart shattered at the sight of her tears. "Y/N, please, I was scared to tell you. I didn’t want to lose you."

"You’ve already lost me," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Was winning the bet worth losing me, Oscar? Because you just lost me."

"Y/N, don’t say that," he begged, reaching out for her. "Please, don’t leave. I can’t lose you."

She pulled away, her sobs shaking her entire body. "I can’t stay here. I can’t be with someone who lied to me from the start."

Oscar watched helplessly as she turned and fled to their bedroom. The door slammed shut behind her, and he stood there, the reality of his actions crashing down on him. The room was silent, the friends who had inadvertently revealed the truth now looking on with a mix of regret and sympathy.

Lando finally broke the silence. "Mate, I thought she knew. I’m so fucking sorry. I had no idea"

Oscar shook his head, the weight of his mistake too heavy to bear. "I can't - I just. Fuck man."

He walked to the bedroom door, his heart aching with every step. He knocked softly. "Y/N, please, let me in. Let’s talk."

There was no answer, only the sound of her muffled sobs. He rested his forehead against the door, tears streaming down his face. "I’m so sorry, Y/N. I love you more than anything. Please, give me a chance to make this right."

Inside the room, Y/N sat on the bed, clutching a pillow to her chest. Her world had crumbled in an instant, and the man she loved had been the one to destroy it. She wanted to believe him, to trust that his love was real, but the pain was too raw, the betrayal too deep.

The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the room. The once lively atmosphere was now heavy with sorrow and regret. The guys had left quietly, offering subdued apologies and words of support that did little to ease Oscar's heartache. The apartment was eerily silent, except for the faint sound of Y/N's muffled sobs from behind the closed bedroom door.

Oscar sat on the couch, his head in his hands, replaying the events of the day over and over in his mind. Each time he thought about Y/N's face, the look of betrayal in her eyes, it felt like a knife twisting in his heart.

The sound of the bedroom door opening snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked up to see Y/N standing there, her face streaked with tears, her eyes red and swollen. She was holding a suitcase, her movements frantic as she began to pack her things.

"Y/N, please, don’t do this," Oscar pleaded, rushing to her side. He tried to grab the suitcase from her hands, but she pulled it away, her sobs intensifying.

"I have to, Oscar," she cried, her voice trembling. "I can’t stay here. I can’t be with you."

"Please, just let me explain," he begged, his own tears flowing freely. "I love you, Y/N. I made a mistake, a terrible mistake, but I love you. Please, don’t leave."

She paused, looking at him with eyes full of pain. "Do you have any idea what it feels like to always be second?" she asked, her voice breaking. "My whole life, I’ve always felt like I was never enough. Second best in school, second best to my friends, even in my own family. I thought you were different, Oscar. I thought you saw me for who I really am, and I believed that I was finally someone’s first choice."

"You are my first choice," he said desperately, reaching out to touch her arm.

She pulled away, shaking her head. "No, Oscar. I was just a bet to you. A game. You won the bet, but you’ve lost me. And no one has ever hurt me more than you have."

Her words pierced through him, each one like a dagger to his heart. "I didn’t mean to hurt you," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I was an idiot, a coward. I should have told you the truth from the beginning. I love you, Y/N. More than anything. Please, don’t go."

"I can’t stay," she sobbed, her hands trembling as she continued to pack. "Every time I look at you, I’ll be reminded of this. Of how I was just a challenge to you. I need to go. I need to find a way to heal from this."

Oscar dropped to his knees, his heart shattering with every passing second. "Please, Y/N. I’ll do anything. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. Just give me a chance."

She stopped packing, looking down at him with tears streaming down her face. "How can I ever trust you again, Oscar? How can I believe that anything we had was real?"

"It was real," he insisted, his voice raw with emotion. "Every moment we shared, every laugh, every kiss—it was all real to me. I love you more than words can say. Please, don’t leave me."

She closed her eyes, the pain overwhelming. "I need to go," she said softly, her voice barely audible. "I need to find myself again. Without you."

He watched helplessly as she zipped up her suitcase and walked to the door. "Y/N," he called out, his voice breaking. "Please, don’t go."

She paused at the door, looking back at him one last time. "Goodbye, Oscar," she whispered, and then she was gone.

Oscar sat there on the floor, his heart in pieces, the sound of the door closing echoing in his ears. He had lost her, the woman he loved more than anything in the world, because of a stupid, reckless bet. And now, all he could do was hope that one day, she might find it in her heart to forgive him and come back. But for now, he was left with the unbearable weight of his mistakes and the hollow ache of her absence.

a few hours later

Y/N sat in her apartment, the quiet solitude of the space amplifying her heartbreak. Tears streamed down her face as she clutched a hoodie that belonged to Oscar, the familiar scent of his cologne wrapping around her like a bittersweet memory. Her phone was filled with pictures of the two of them, each snapshot a testament to the love they had shared. She scrolled through them, her heart breaking a little more with every smile, every kiss, every laugh they had captured.

A bouquet of wilted flowers Oscar had given her on their last anniversary sat on the table, and she fingered the petals absentmindedly, recalling the tenderness in his eyes when he had handed them to her. The apartment felt like a museum of their love, every corner holding a memory that now felt tainted by his betrayal.

Meanwhile, Oscar was pacing his own apartment, wracking his brain for a way to make things right. He glanced around, his eyes landing on a Polaroid picture of Y/N that he had taken one sunny afternoon. She was laughing, her hair blowing in the wind, her eyes sparkling with joy. The sight of her in that picture filled him with a renewed determination. He had to show her how much she meant to him, how deeply he loved her.

Grabbing a bouquet of fresh flowers, he rushed out of his apartment and drove to Y/N's place. When he arrived, he stood at her door, his heart pounding with a mixture of fear and hope. He knocked gently at first, then more urgently when there was no answer.

"Y/N, please, let me in," he called out, his voice thick with emotion. "I need to talk to you."

Inside, Y/N heard his voice but couldn’t bring herself to move. She was too hurt, too shattered. She buried her face in her hands, sobbing quietly.

Oscar’s heart sank when there was no response. Desperate, he pulled out his phone and found her favorite song on a jukebox app. He placed it on the ground outside her door and hit play. The familiar melody filled the air, and he began to speak, his voice shaking with sincerity.

Oscar stood outside Y/N’s door, his heart pounding in his chest as he played her favorite song on his phone. The music filled the air, a bittersweet melody that mirrored the emotions swirling inside him. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his trembling hands, and began to speak, his voice filled with raw emotion.

"Y/N, please, just hear me out," he started, his voice breaking. "I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life. But I need you to know how deeply I love you. From the moment I met you, you changed my world, and every day since then, I’ve fallen more and more in love with you."

He paused, wiping away the tears that streamed down his face. "I love the way you scrunch your nose when you're thinking hard about something. It’s one of the cutest things I've ever seen. I love how your eyes light up when you talk about something you're passionate about. Your enthusiasm is contagious, and it makes me want to be a better person."

Oscar’s voice trembled as he continued, "I love the way you laugh. It's the most beautiful sound in the world, and it can brighten even my darkest days. I love how you always insist on dancing in the kitchen, even when there’s no music. Those moments, just you and me, they’re the ones I cherish the most."

He took a shaky breath, his tears falling freely now. "I love how you always leave little notes for me to find, reminding me to smile or telling me you love me. Those notes mean everything to me. I love how you remember every detail about my day, how you listen to me, and how you make me feel valued and important."

Oscar’s voice cracked with emotion as he continued, "I love the way you care for others, how you’re always looking out for the people you love. You have the biggest heart, Y/N, and I am so incredibly lucky to be loved by you. I love every single thing about you, from your kindness to your strength, from your laughter to your tears."

He wiped his eyes, his voice growing more desperate. "I know I messed up, and I know I hurt you in a way that might never fully heal. But I am begging you, from the bottom of my heart, to give me a chance to make this right. I will spend every day of my life proving to you that you are my first choice, my only choice."

Oscar took a step closer to the door, his voice filled with unwavering sincerity. "Please, Y/N, don’t walk away from what we have. I can’t lose you. I’ll do anything to earn back your trust, to show you that my love for you is real and true. Please, let me prove to you that you mean everything to me."

His voice broke again, a sob escaping his lips. "I love you, Y/N. I love you more than words can express. I’m so sorry for the pain I’ve caused you, and I promise you, I will never hurt you like this again. Please, open the door and let me in. Let me be with you, let me show you how much I care."

The silence that followed was agonizing. Oscar stood there, his heart aching, praying that she would give him a chance. Just as he felt his hope begin to waver, the door slowly creaked open.

Y/N stood there, tears streaming down her face, her eyes red and swollen. She looked at him, taking in the flowers, the pain, and love in his eyes. "Oscar," she whispered, her voice trembling. "How can I trust you again?"

He stepped forward, his heart breaking at the sight of her tears. "I know it’s going to take time," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "And I’m willing to wait as long as it takes. I’ll spend every day showing you that you can trust me again. I love you, Y/N. You are my everything."

She hesitated, then slowly reached out to take the flowers from his hands. The touch of her fingers against his sent a wave of hope through him. She looked up at him, her eyes searching his for any hint of deceit, but all she saw was raw, honest love.

"Okay," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "But it’s going to take time, Oscar."

He nodded, tears of relief streaming down his face. "I understand. I’ll wait as long as it takes. Just please, let me be with you."

She stepped aside, allowing him to enter, and as he did, he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly. They stood there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, the pain of the past mingling with the hope for the future.

"I love you, Y/N," he murmured into her hair. "I love you so much."

"I love you too, Oscar," she whispered back, her tears soaking into his shirt. "Just don’t ever hurt me like this again."

"I won’t," he promised, his voice firm. "Never again."

As they held each other, the music playing softly in the background, they both knew that the road ahead would be difficult, but they were willing to walk it together, one step at a time.

[nataliasquote]

Sun-kissed by an angel | n romanoff

summary: the perfect lazy morning in the Romanoff summer beach house

wc: 1.5k

notes: I know I’ve been MIA for a while, but I’m back with a short but soft and fluffy oneshot. I wish this was my life tbh, I feel like a beach holiday and a cozy morning with a hot girl would make my life so much better

-⧗-

The gentle tickle of the ocean breeze brushed across the sleeping woman’s exposed skin, stirring her from her heavy slumber with the promise of sun. It dappled through the open curtains of the balcony doors, but the light wasn’t harsh like it usually was. Many days had started just like this, crumpled sheets and exposed limbs being warmed by the dazzling sun. Y/n blinked to adjust to the brightness, stretching her limbs out across the expanse of soft white blankets, frowning as her palms landed upon nothing but fabric. The bed was larger, far bigger than any she’d slept in before, but it felt even bigger without her person by her side.

Waking up with the sea view directly in front of her was a dream but even the gentle rolling waves didn’t quite tug the smile back to her lips as she swung her legs out of bed and let her feet land upon the sanded hardwood floor. Without pulling on anything to cover her blue pyjama shorts set, she wandered down the hallway of the country style house, passing the photo covered walls and airy windows, until she reached the kitchen.

The radio on the windowsill crackled out nostalgic tunes and Y/n paused in the doorway, taking in the sight before her. The redheaded woman she adored with her whole heart was swaying softly to the music, the oversized white button down that adorned her body hanging loosely from her shoulders and stopping mid thigh. The large window above the sink was wide open, letting in a deliciousness to drift from the beach below and mix with the combination of freshly brewed coffee and the new bouquet sitting in prize position on the grand windowsill.

Natasha’s back was turned as she hummed to herself, allowing her wife a moment of admiration before she crossed the tiled floor and slipped her arms around the redhead’s waist. Natasha wasn’t startled, she was an ex spy after all, but her body immediately relaxed into the touch of her wife. They stayed embraced for a few moments, Natasha’s head tilting backwards to rest on Y/n’s shoulder behind her. She smiled lazily and brought her own hands up to grasp onto her lover’s, holding her tightly.

“Did you sleep well?” She muttered softly, goosebumps littering her skin as Y/n’s hands grazed her stomach.

Y/n hummed, turning her wife around so they were finally face to face. “I would have slept better if you didn’t leave before I woke up.” Her mouth pouted slightly but Natasha quickly kissed her lips, her remedy for unhappiness.

“I’m sorry, baby,” she apologised, “I just wanted to surprise you with breakfast.”

Y/n’s eyebrows furrowed at the mention of food. Her wife was a lot of things, but a cook she was not. She followed Natasha’s gaze to a pan on the stove where a sorry looking egg was cooking - or at least trying to.

“Tasha, honey… you haven’t turned the stove on.”

Natasha went to protest but Y/n pressed the button and turned the dial, the pair of them watching as the oil in the pan began to sizzle. Y/n smiled, trying to hide her laughter but Natasha caught her and huffed, sliding away from the stove and dragging Y/n over to the other counter, trapping her body in between the granite countertop and her strong body.

“How long have you been trying to cook that egg?” Y/n asked with fake seriousness, one which Natasha saw straight through. She rolled her eyes and pressed her hips forward, grabbing her wife’s face in her scarred palms.

“You’re lucky that I love you and will put up with this teasing after everything I do for you,” she grumbled, even though she wasn’t at all offended. Her wife was the light of her life and a far better cook, despite Natasha’s best efforts. She gazed into her love’s eyes, watching them sparkle in the sunlight and she couldn’t hold herself back anymore. Natasha pressed their lips together in a loving but firm kiss, almost like she was trying to kiss the smirk off her wife’s face. Her hands cupped Y/n’s cheeks with such tenderness that the other woman melted slightly, her body falling forwards into the comfort of her wife.

“You’re too good at that, my love, but that egg will burn if we continue like this,” Y/n started, trying to push Natasha away, much to the redhead’s disdain. The promise of breakfast was far in the back of her mind and she ignored Y/n’s help of protest when she grabbed the backs of her thighs and lifted her up onto the counter, spreading her thighs to stand between them with a smirk.

“You were saying?”

Y/n shook her head, a playful smile dancing across her lips. Her wife really was unbelievable. “At least turn the stove off, Nat. We just had this kitchen redone.”

“It’s barely warmed up.”

“And I know you. You’ll forget all about it and then complain when it’s black.” Natasha opened her mouth. “Don’t protest, you know I’m right.”

The redhead rolled her eyes but stepped away for two seconds, keeping her eyes locked on her wife on the counter as she fiddled around for the knob, turning it with a click. She raised an eyebrow, almost asking ‘happy?’ and Y/n nodded whilst beckoning her back over.

“That wasn’t hard now, was it?”

Natasha stayed quiet. Her fingertips slowly danced up Y/n’s bare thighs, tracing invisible patterns on her freshly tanned skin until they reached the hem of her shorts. Natasha laid her palms flat, suddenly looking up at her wife again through her lashes, giving her a look that melted the world away.

“Stop…” yet she wasn’t at all convincing. Y/n’s own hands absentmindedly drifted to the open collar of Natasha’s shirt, her collarbones just showing under the soft linen. “I love this shirt on you, my god.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” Y/n hummed softly. She followed her fingers with her eyes, connecting the freckles on her wife’s pale skin across her chest. Regardless of her hours spent in the sun, Natasha was never tanned, but it only made her look more ethereal in Y/n’s eyes. Like an angel with a glowing halo of hair about her head.

They didn’t need to talk, not in moments like this. Their eyes spoke a thousand words, and the soft call of seabirds in the distance reminded them both of the life they now lived, the craziness of the Avengers a thing of the past. A slow life was their new normal, and Natasha had moulded into her new role surprisingly well.

“Why don’t we go to the farmer’s market today?” Natasha suggested, her hands still resting on her wife’s thighs, her favourite place to be.

Y/n narrowed her eyes, seeing through that innocent facade. “You want me to make my salad don’t you?”

Natasha grinned, moving her hands up to Y/n’s waist, pulling her closer until her legs wrapped around Nat’s waist and they were as close as they could be. Natasha was an utter simp for her wife, and she wasn’t ashamed of that. Not at all. She would get it tattooed on her forehead if she could.

“I do, but I also want to see you in a pretty summer dress in our town today.” Another weakness, Natasha was feeling extra soft today, and Y/n would never complain. Natasha’s possessiveness came out extra strong when Y/n wore one of her favourite dresses. They always attracted extra attention and there was nothing more that the redhead loved more than to slide an arm around her waist or stop her in the street and kiss her fiercely. Just to shut down the wandering eyes of the other men and women in their small coastal town.

“What my wife wants, she gets,” Y/n leaned down and kissed Natasha’s forehead before signalling to get down. “What about breakfast?”

They both peered over at the half cooked mess of an egg on the stove before bursting into laughter. Straight into the trash it went, that was clear.

“I’m going to take my gorgeous wife out for breakfast,” the redhead announced, twirling Y/n under her arm in time to the music still playing from the radio. “With the promise of properly cooked eggs and a beautiful view.”

“I already have a beautiful view.” Cheesy.

“Get out of here,” Natasha joked, administering a slap to her wife’s ass as she ran out of the kitchen and down the hallway, a redhead hot on her heels.

But their urgency to leave was short lived as Natasha tackled Y/n onto the bed, peppering her face with kisses as they rolled around on the crumpled sheets, acting more like teenagers than thirty year old women. But they were allowed to, Natasha had been robbed of a childhood after all.

Breakfast could wait, this morning was much more important.

[javier-pena]

circumstance

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x f!reader

Word Count: 2k

Rating: Explicit

Summary: On a stormy night, you’re haunted by a ghost from your past.

Warnings: dub con | unprotected p in v sex | creampie | unsanitary sexual practices | cheating | coercion | possessiveness | (brief) fingering (f receiving) | biting | oral (f receiving) (mentioned) | mentions of food and alcohol | mentions of blood and war

Notes: God idk what it is with me and seeing random pictures of Pedro characters that make me go feral. Anyways, wrote this in an hour, hope this is anything. I had Latin in school but I’m not vouching for any of the Latin words in this. I mostly wrote this because I’ve had a vendetta against international bestselling author Robert Harris ever since I was 15 years old. This is loosely based on a scene from his novel Imperium that has been haunting me for almost 20 years now. Also based on this post by @ozarkthedog.

***

There’s war. Outside the city, the land is burning. Behind the city walls, life goes on as it always has. There’s decadence and dissipation and life. That’s your part of the story. That’s all you’ve ever known. The comfort and the safety. That’s all you’ve ever needed to feel fulfilled.

During the night, when the city quiets down, when the people return to their homes and the public life ceases, you can sometimes hear it, like a storm brewing over the distant sea, like the rumbling of a volcano miles and miles away, taking deep breaths before spewing its fiery death. On clear nights, nights free of clouds and wind, nights where the air is so heavy it feels like a blanket weighing you down, you can even see it, the light from the battlefield, the glow of a carnage that swallows everything, even itself.

This night isn’t clear at all. This night brought rain and hail and thunder so violent it shakes the foundations of your house. You’re alone, reclining on your triclinium, too drained from dinner to move much. The storm promised some reprieve from the muggy summer air, but the heat is worse now than it was this afternoon. The wine you had with your meal, the glass in front of you now refilled a third time, combined with the weather makes your head feel like it has been wrapped in wool. Even breathing seems laborious.

But there are footsteps against mosaic floors, and footsteps mean visitors and visitors mean business. Business at such a late hour is never a good sign. With a groan you stand, with a sigh you straighten your tunic, and then the footsteps are drowned by a clap of thunder so loud you flinch.

What follows it is not the sight of one of your servants or even your husband. In the gloomy darkness that always follows a flash of lightning a shadow moves into the room, and when your eyes have adjusted to the dim lights of the lucernae all around you, you flinch again, this time with cause.

A man is standing before you, looking like the slain ghost of a soldier from the battlefield nearby. He is covered in dirt and grime, wet from the rain, wet from the blood he has recently spilled. His armor looks black in the darkness, and your eyes flicker to his side in trepidation only to discover that he’s still wearing his sword. He’s still wearing his sword, going against the rules of your house, the rules of your husband.

“Where is he?” the stranger asks, his voice deep and dangerous like the thunder outside.

You could play dumb, you could act like you don’t know who he’s talking about, but in that voice you discover something familiar, like a memory of a distant dream, never quite forgotten.

“He isn’t here,” you reply. “He might come back later, but he’s with the senate.”

The man steps closer, quick strides that take him right to the foot of your triclinium. You step backward until you reach its head, trying to put the piece of furniture between the two of you. Your hands are clammy.

“Good,” the stranger answers with a twitch of his lips that’s all too familiar for all the wrong reasons. “I promised you I’d be back for you, and I always keep my promises.”

There’s a doorway behind you leading through a small peristyle straight to your husband’s tablinum. You glance at the court, at the shrubs and flowers and fountains that you know are there but that are currently hidden by curtains of rain and darkness.

“Don’t –,” the stranger starts, but it comes too late.

You turn and run, skip down the two steps from the porch into the garden itself, your feet splashing into puddles as you run and run. Heavy footfalls behind you, heavy breathing, and a heaviness in your heart, calling back to a similar moment years ago that happened on such a different day full of laughter and sunshine and secret kisses exchanged in secret corners.

You reach the doorway to the tablinum. “Stop!” you bellow, and to your surprise he does. To your surprise, this works, and you don’t know what to do with that. “What do you want, Acacius?” you ask, your heart growing even heavier when you name him.

“You know what I want,” he answers, the rain loudly hammering against his armor, the water dousing his hair, making his curls stick to his forehead. “I came back to collect what you owe me.”

“We were children,” you remind him.

He’s up the steps faster than you can say those three words, the years between now and that summer afternoon seemingly having left no traces.

“Keep telling yourself that,” he growls, the storm raging over the city reflected in his eyes.

You step backwards into the tablinum, one hand protectively slung across your stomach. “You should leave, Acacius. I have nothing more to say to you.”

But there is only so far you can go before your back connects with your husband’s writing desk. And once it does there is nowhere for you to run to.

“I don’t need you to say anything.” His face is cast in shadows now, but when another flash lights up the night sky, you see that his expression is completely blank. “I just need you to lift up those expensive skirts of yours and let me take what’s mine.”

“Go back to that battlefield of yours,” you reply. “Go back and defend Rome like you’re supposed to. Or are you too much of a coward still?”

You should have known he would not take that kindly, should have known that provoking him wouldn’t make him leave. But when you feel his cold, wet hand wrapped around your wrist, when you’re being yanked into his chest, turned around, and shoved up against the desk, it still catches you by surprise. Some part of you, the one that never left that sunny afternoon, didn’t think he’d have it in him. Another part wanted him to.

His body presses into you with such force the desk scrapes against the stone floor with a creak loud enough to be heard over the storm. The sound that cannot be heard is the gasp you let out when he pushes up your tunic, exposing your legs to the humid night air.

“Don’t –,” you start.

He shushes you, one dirty finger touching your lips. You can smell the storm and the blood on him. He can feel your shaky breath.

“Just this once,” he mumbles into your hair.

Maybe you should fight this, but you don’t know how. He kicks your feet apart, and maybe you should kick back, connect your heel to his shin, and run. He bites the spot where your neck connects to your shoulder, and maybe you should bite his finger that is now resting against your lips while the rest of his hand is wrapped around your chin and throat, bite down hard until the bone cracks. He runs his other hand down your backside and pushes it between your legs, groaning at the warmth and wetness he finds there, and maybe you should use this moment of weakness to climb across the desk and search for something to defend yourself with.

All of it passes and you do nothing. All of it passes and you push backward against him, sucking his finger in between your lips. He pulls it out of your mouth, grabs the hair at the back of your neck, and pushes your head down toward the desk, your shoulders straining in protest. The groan you let loose is read as defiance by him.

“I told you to be quiet,” he hisses. “Just …”

He trails off and at first you don’t know why but then the hand at the back of your neck is gone and you sigh with relief, a sound that turns into something less human when he pushes two fingers into you.

“God, you’re tight,” he groans, his forehead resting against your shoulder.

“Please …,” you try again, but you’re not quite sure what you’re asking for.

There’s a rustling sound behind you, leather and fabric being moved frantically, and then his fingers are gone, replaced by something thick and heavy spreading you open. You lift yourself up on the tips of your toes, trying to adjust, trying to lessen the burn, but he digs his fingers into your hips and pushes you back down, right onto him.

“Stay,” he orders. “Just … just take it.”

His words are slurred now, and your vision is blurry, your eyes wet from biting your lip so hard you can taste blood on your tongue. He rocks into you, and your nails scrape against the wood of your husband’s desk, leaving marks in their wake. But you do as you’re told.

“That’s better.” He bites your shoulder again and you gasp from the sudden burst of pain, gasp from the way you constrict around him in response. He laughs, a rumbling like thunder, then pushes your upper body against the wood, holding you down, one hand in your hair, the other firmly locking your hip in place.

Another bolt of lightning must have illuminated your face, turned sideways for him to see the trepidation in your eyes because he says, “Don’t cry. I’m going to take good care of you.”

You don’t know how to tell him that you’re not crying because you’re afraid of him. You’re crying because you don’t remember the last time you’ve felt this way, the last time sex wasn’t just a duty you had to fulfill but something someone wanted from you, and just from you, so much so he would abandon his duty to take what’s his. You don’t know how to tell him you’re terrified of what that discovery might mean for you and your marriage, how you’re hoping your husband is going to walk in right this very moment and free you from the bonds that bind you to him.

Acacius starts to lose control of his body then. He’s pushing himself up deeper and deeper into you, groaning louder with each thrust. You know those sounds, dread them when they’re coming from your husband, encourage them now with desperate whimpers of your own. He grips your hair again, pulls you up flush against his chest so hard you yelp with pain, fumbles with your tunic until he finds that bundle of nerves between your legs that he loved to kiss when you were both free to enjoy each other’s company. But it’s just for a brief moment he considers your pleasure before hitting the desk with his open palm, holding onto the wood, and letting go.

You close your eyes, waiting. It doesn’t take long for him to let out a sigh, to still deep inside of you. You can feel him twitch, you feel his hot release, but most of all you feel the sting of a promise broken. Your whole body is on edge, wound up, pulled taut, and there is nothing he’s going to do about it.

When he’s done, he pulls out of you and lets your tunic fall down around your legs. You turn to face him, your cheeks burning with shame, but his face is once again hidden behind all those shadows that come with a starless night.

“You wanted to take good care of me,” you point out, trying to keep your voice steady.

“I just did,” he says, running his thumb from the corner of his mouth along his bottom lip. “You’re mine now. Leave that between your legs for him to find.”

“Acacius …,” you try, a name once so familiar then so strange now growing familiar again.

He crowds you against the desk, chest to chest this time, and wraps his thick fingers around your throat. The kiss he presses to your lips is hard, devoid of all tenderness. “Mine,” he repeats. “Never forget that.” And then he’s nothing more than heavy footsteps against mosaic floors.

[starsofang]

CALL OF THE SEA / PART TWO

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, kidnapping, 141 are mean pirates, brief mentions of gore/death masterlist

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

The time you spent in the brig was frigid and isolating. Despite it being summer, the cold gusts of the sea had crept in through the thin cracks of the wooden ship, rising goosebumps on your skin and sending shivers wracking through your body. You were in no attire to accommodate the chill, only dressed in your barest of summer garments, thin and dirtied from the poverty your village lived in.

Silence became your new friend, while also your enemy. As much as you were one to appreciate the quiet of the world, the waves crashing along the sides of the ship were far too loud, taunting you with a grim reminder that you were lost at sea with no home to return to.

Your home was burned down to ash, surely with no survivors, given the state of havoc you’d returned to when Ghost told you to fetch your things. Your home didn’t treat you kindly, but it was still the place you’d grown up in and planned on dying peacefully. Now, you were a prisoner to pirates, ones only told about in silly fairy tales.

The stories of pirates had scared you when you were a young child. The elders had grouped together all children on summer nights such as this one, feeding them useless fables of the dangerous men and women that ruled the seas. They were ruthless, showing no remorse for the ones they tormented, uncaring of the bloodshed they splattered along native lands of the innocent.

That’s all they were when you were a child. Stories. Only meant to keep the youth away from the seas as not to witness them fall in and succumb to a painful death of drowning.

Now, though, it was your cruel reality. A nightmare. The pirates from those tales had been plucked straight out of the book and planted right into your life, erupting it into living hell.

Nobody had come to check on you after Ghost left you locked up in the cell. It had been hours since, the only telltale sign being the peek of sunlight poking through the small brig window and illuminating the room enough to shower you in a faint glow. There was nothing but a cot in the cell, the lower deck bare of anything useful.

Your escape would be fruitless. You’d thought about squeezing through the tiny window, but even if you managed, where would that leave you? Captured in the waves of the sea until you’d sink to the bottom in exhaustion.

You had to play it smart. Staying awake for hours alone had left you with plenty of rapid thoughts, some irrational. The best thing you’d decided in the end was to play along, gain their trust, and fulfill your role. As much as a part of you wished you were dead, it would be betraying your village, betraying Mary.

They needed to be caught. These pirates needed to pay for their crimes.

Gain their trust. Get off of the ship. Inform the nearest guard station.

When daylight fully broke, the sound of a creaky door caught your attention. More sunlight poured through the open doorway from the top of the stairs, showcasing one of the pirates. This time, it wasn’t Ghost, but instead, the one who had tossed you over their shoulder like a weak sack of potatoes.

Gaz said nothing as he descended down the stairs. In his hand was a steaming bowl, swirling around him like an ominous mist. His eyes locked on to yours, hardened from years of thievery and slaughter. There wasn’t an ounce of kindness in them, nor indication that he was anything besides a sailing machine designed to follow Captain’s orders.

You watched keenly as he approached your cell. He stood over you like a brewing storm cloud, shadowing you from the stretch of light behind him.

For a moment, the two of you sat there frozen. You, terrified and cautious. Him, off putting and brooding.

Breaking the tension, his free hand scrambled for the keys latched on to the loops on his trousers, inserting one of the keys into the lock. He paused, eyeing you as a warning not to pull a brainless move. When he was satisfied you wouldn’t dare, he tugged the cell door open before stepping inside.

“Here,” he muttered, crouching down to place the bowl of food in front of you. Upon further inspection, you realized it was porridge. Bland and colorless.

You had no appetite after the horrors you’d seen. The sight of food had your stomach twisting, filling with rotten bile that begged to escape you and paint the floor beneath you.

Brimming with rage and seethe, you did the first thing that came to mind. Your hands picked up the bowl, carefully guiding it up to your mouth in attempts to seem starved. Gaz watched carefully, face set in firm lines that bristled a resentful itch inside of you.

With a turn of your hands, you tossed the porridge directly at Gaz, coating him in the piping liquid, chunks of vegetable that had been carelessly tossed in for flavor slipping down his front. His shirt and trousers were drenched, staining with the lifeless meal.

His face morphed into one of surprise before quickly shifting course. Instead, he was angry, eyebrows pulling taut, scowl curling on his lips. His eyes darkened impossibly more, filling the warm pupils with a menacing black.

“You fuckin’ wench,” he hissed, standing from his crouch to angrily swipe at the food that littered his clothing. It fell to the floor in a mushy mess right in front of you. Due to his aggression, a few stray chunks splattered back on to you in retaliation.

Realizing what you’d done, you tensed up, shuffling back from your place on the floor until your back hit the splintering walls of the ship. Gaz let out a roaring groan in irritation, sending a daggering glare your way.

“You are not hungry?” he asked tauntingly. He stepped out of the cell, slamming the door shut and locking it up tight. “Starve then. You will learn soon enough.”

Watching with widened eyes, he left the brig, grumbling angry curses to himself. When he shut the doors of your escape, you were met with sickening silence once again. The sound of waves taunted you, whispering insults in your ears for being such a stupid girl.

The pact you’d made with yourself was already in ruin. Befriending the pirates would be a difficult task if you couldn’t swallow down your enmity, and now you’d gone and made a foe.

Nobody returned to your cell for the rest of the day. It was punishment, that much you could figure out. Your stomach grumbled with desperate pleas, yet you could do nothing but wallow in your own acrimony for the remainder of the night.

When morning rose, you were awakened by the sound of the door once again. The light was blinding as it invaded the room, temporarily blocking your view of the person who’d stepped inside. When your eyes adjusted, you were faced with another pirate, the one who had held Mary down while you pleaded with him to release her.

Gaz stood beside him, arms crossed to appear larger. His face was unreadable, but you could feel the tease of resentment fluttering in his eyes.

“Not goin’ to toss yer breakfast on me, are ye?” the other snickered, eliciting a glare from Gaz. The pirate stepped forward, unlocking your cell and slipping inside. This time, he held the stale porridge while Gaz remained a pace behind him. “I know yer starvin’, so don’t be a prude. Eat up, aye?”

He set the bowl in front of you, just as Gaz had done. Remaining crouched in front of you, he made a gesture of his head towards the steaming meal, a toothy grin on his face.

You knew better than to feel relieved at the kindness. He was a pirate, just as the others, and he was cruel and unruly. Though, thinking back on your plan, his youthfulness may be a much easier one to befriend.

“Thank you,” you mumbled quietly with a respectful bow of your head. You reached for the bowl, gathering it in both hands. Gaz and the other studied you, seemingly waiting for a repeat of dirty laundry. It never came, though, and you lifted the wood spoon to your lips, swallowing down the first bite.

Just as you thought, it was bitter. How one could even make porridge bitter, you were unsure, but your stomach made no protest to the grainy oats. In fact, it was rather appealing, having been starved for two days.

“Take it ye like it, then?” the one pirate hummed, cocking his head at the display. “Get used to it, birdie. It’ll be yer meal for majority of yer time here.” He shot you another grin, resembling a mangy cat.

The reminder of your permanent stay was a difficult one, but your plan played over in your head. You wanted to go home, though it was no more, and you wanted your freedom back. Neither would be possible if you didn’t show kindness in return.

“What’s your name?” you questioned, making a poor attempt at conversation.

“Soap,” he introduced proudly. You didn’t mean to, but the name made you snort, triggering a light cough from the porridge you’d been in the middle of swallowing down.

“Soap is an… interesting name,” you grimaced. Soap didn’t seem to mind the back-handedness, only keeping that signature grin that was beginning to grow a bit hard on the eyes.

“Aye, got the name from bein’ a bit too rowdy. Price wanted to wash my mouth out.” His own words had him cackling, loud and boisterous in the cramped brig. Gaz had no reaction, opting for the hardened look that was practically piercing into you like thousands of knives. “What’s yer name, birdie? Got to learn who our new medic is.”

You wanted to remind him that you weren’t a medic. Not a professional one, anyway. You knew the bare minimum of proper medical etiquette and your medicines Ghost had told you to bring with were simply experimental mixtures. But you also knew that he wouldn’t listen nor care.

“The village called me dove,” you explained, swallowing down more porridge. It was warm in your mouth, coating your throat with gooey goodness. “Though, I don’t think it was much out of kindness.”

Soap hummed in acknowledgement, shooting a lopsided smile and a nod of his head. “Not quite a pirate name, dove, but it’ll do.”

“I’m not a pirate,” you defended with a frown.

“Ye are now,” he reckoned mindlessly, shrugging a lazy shoulder. Soap stood from his position, straightening up next to Gaz. “I’ll give ye some advice to be a part of this crew, dove. It’s not nice to throw porridge at a poor lad like Gaz.” Soap clapped Gaz on his shoulder, earning a scowl, which he ignored.

Your eyes shifted from Soap to Gaz, taking in the pure annoyance radiating off of him in waves. It was undeniable, practically filling the room’s atmosphere with black mist.

“I apologize,” you forced out, though that bitter part of you denied it. You wouldn’t feel sorry for these pirates. After all, they didn’t feel bad for the innocent lives they ruined.

Gaz’s nose twitched at your faux remorse, staring at you for a beat too long before turning away. He made no move to talk to you, but it wasn’t a blatant refusal of your apology. Perhaps he was just a tough nut to crack with a soft sweetness on the inside, even for a pirate.

The two men left you alone in the brig once again, only returning to give you meals as needed. It was terribly lonely the more the weeks went on with no move to release you from your cell. It was as if none of them trusted you, despite them being the ones to kidnap you. They burned down your home, slaughtered your people, and yet, wouldn’t allow you a chance to taste a sliver of freedom.

It was agonizing to wait, but you kept up your facade as much as you could, dripping with poisoned honey every time Gaz or Soap entered the brig with means to feed you.

Price or Ghost hadn’t made an entrance to see you. For the most part, you were grateful for it. In just the couple of weeks Soap and Gaz had been feeding you, they were warming up to you, slow and steady — Soap more than the other.

Gaz still had his reservations about you. He was reclusive, always standing on guard as if the shadows in the wall were prepared to attack at any given moment. It was better than before, where he had treated you like a burdening dog who he couldn’t rid himself of, but the progress was dwindling.

Soap was much more gracious. While he was obnoxious, he was much more welcoming company. You had no desire to truly befriend these pirates, but if any were to be the most tolerable, it was Soap.

Price and Ghost, though, were a mystery. Their absence made crucial falters in your meticulous plotting. You wanted out of the cell so you may roam the creaky decks of the ship, but the dream simply wouldn’t be possible without their trust.

It wasn’t until the fourth week of your imprisonment that the storyline had shifted. Rather than Soap bringing you your meal for the night, it was the Captain himself, standing tall and brute in front of your barred enclosure.

Unease rattled through your bones at his sudden appearance. You weren’t expecting him, nor were you prepared to face the very man who had slain your village with the help of his men.

He observed you like a lab rat, studying every movement like a variable in his experiment. It was prodding and exposing, leaving you sitting in your cell with a heavy lump in your throat.

“Soap tells me you’re warmin’ up to him,” he claimed, breaking the thick silence that smothered the air. He paced back and forth in front of your cell, eyes focused in on you. “Figured I’d properly introduce myself, seein’ as we’ll be spendin’ a lot of time together.”

You swallowed the rock in your throat, unmoving from your position on the floor. It was far from comfortable, but the cot was worn and dirty, so the floor became your only friend in the midst of all your dispair.

“I see,” you managed, clearing your throat. Price continued his relentless pacing, hands crossed behind his back in a formal manner. Ironic, really, considering his ruthless occupation.

“Dove, was it?” he asked. You nodded wearily. “A shame, really. Doves are lovely things, beautiful creatures made up of the purest white. Yet your village had called you it in ridicule. Or so I heard.”

Price was a man that spoke in riddles. He spouted conversation in the form of poetry, only tainting its beauty when angered. It was both unnerving and intriguing for a pirate. He wasn’t dirtied like you’d heard in childhood tales.

“I suppose they did,” you agreed with a small frown. The anxious pit in your stomach only grew, triggering alarm bells telling you that this man was an enigma. He wasn’t to be trusted.

“And why is that?” Price questioned. He ceased his pacing to face you properly, and you wished he’d return to it. His stature was that of a behemoth, overpowering and menacing, much like Ghost had been.

“Why did they call me dove?” you responded in confusion.

“Why did they ridicule you,” he corrected.

The statement made you pause. You hadn’t really thought about your townspeople dumbing you down to a mere crazy girl with too much ambition. You were the talk of the village within your age group as well as the occasional elder who tsked at you for never marrying.

The relationship between you and your people was one of complexity. While you loved them as your own, they battered you every chance they had. Hell, even Lucius himself had outed you to a group of pirates without care in the world. The very man who had spent countless months in attempts to make you a pretty village wife had sent you to your early grave to save his own ass.

“They thought I was different,” you explained woefully. “It is not normal for a woman to partake in medicine, let alone education. Doves are beautiful, yes, but they’re also adventurous. It is a dangerous conviction to be compared to as a woman.”

Price cocked his head to the side, filling the air with silence. You weren’t sure why you felt the need to explain yourself to a dingy villain such as him, but you feared that if you weren’t honest in your conversation, he’d be able to sniff out your deception from miles away.

“Who has told you it is not normal?” Price asked, and once again, he had stumped you.

“It is not a difficult thing to digest, Captain. Women do not involve themselves in ambition.”

“They quite do,” he retorted. You stared up at him through the bars, your own head cocking. You didn’t trust his word, but a shriveled piece of you was curious. “Sure, it is not acceptable in certain places, but it is quite popular.”

You blinked at him, before staring at the wooden floor, pondering.

You had been expecting the Captain to treat you with hostility, to throw nasty words your way with the excuse of being a pirate. That was what you had been told in adolescence, how dirty they could be, but he was calm.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” Price said. He leaned forward to rest his forearms on the bars of your cell, standing over you with only that barrier separating you. “I am not a cruel man. You may think differently, and for that, I do not care. But I will say that I believe you will have a much better life upon my ship.”

His words were a mix of sweet venom being spat at you. While they could be perceived as kind, there was an underlying message, one you couldn’t decipher.

“You burned down my village and killed my people. You kidnapped me to be your medic on your ship,” you defended, unable to hold back the taste of lingering resentment.

You had nearly forgotten why you were there with Soap and Gaz visiting to shift your mind elsewhere. You almost dismissed your own plan of escape. Price had reminded you without realizing, and now, your heart felt heavy once again.

“Ah, yes. The people that willingly sacrificed their own in effort to save themselves,” Price mused mockingly. The words stung. “Yes, we took you against your will. I will admit that. But your people treated you far worse.”

“You do not know a thing, Captain,” you spat.

Price cocked his head once more, resting his forehead on the forearms that lay upon your cell. “Aye, I do not,” he admitted. “But I know a bird with clipped wings when I see one. Perhaps you’ll be grateful when you learn to accept things as they are.”

You wanted to retort, wanted to get the last word in, but he was right. You barely knew the Captain and yet, he had read you like a novel, flipping through your pages and memorizing them from one single look through.

It felt dehumanizing. He was cruel and vicious, as were his men. They were nowhere near saviors, yet he spoke to you as if he was. It sickened you to the core, but there was no denying his brutal honesty.

Price offered you a lazy smile before standing straight, arms falling to his sides. “I suggest gettin’ used to your new life. You’ve got no home to return to anyway.”

He retreated from your cell as if he hadn’t slapped you in the face with a dose of reality. His boots were heavy and aggravating as they trudged up the stairs towards the upper deck, where he promptly shut the door on you, leaving you alone once again.

Your escape plan was falling into shambles before it had even began to fester. 

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine some sweet banter with Sanji in the kitchen…

“You want to take this outside?” Patty frowned, slightly bothered by Sanji’s laid back attitude after slowing the line.

“Are you asking me to dance because I kind of had my eye on that blonde at Table 8?” Sanji smirked as he walked down the aisle, slipping the tweezers into his apron.

Thriving on the buzz of the kitchen rush, you manoeuvred around Patty with a tray of desserts in your hand with a spin and landed in stride with Sanji in the aisle.

“It’s adorable that you think you have a chance with her, Sanji.” You teased and glanced back at Patty speaking a little louder so he could hear. “I’m certain that Miss Table 8 prefers men with coloured hair.”

The cooks chuckled and nudged Patty with cheers of encouragement. He may have been a little gruff on the edges but you grew to break down his walls just enough to brighten up his day.

Returning to the task at hand, you moved aside a bowl of frosting and set the tray down as Sanji did the same.

As the two of you fell into the usual groove, he leaned in a little.

“Feeling a tad bit jealous there?” The cook smirked.

You quirked a brow and dipped your finger in the icing bowl that you had experimented with earlier that day (only for Zeff to throw a fit about it).

“Oh Sanji, if only there was something to be jealous of.” You pressed the decadent cream onto the tip of his nose and smiled at your artistic work.

Stepping back with a laugh, Sanji wiped your attack off and admit his defeat. He needed to be careful otherwise his heart would physically jump into his eyes.

Your eyes caught the beautifully constructed fish on the plate and pat his shoulder. “Zeff’s going to throw you into the East Blue if he sees that.” You warned.

Sanji pressed his hands over his heart, his brows knit together curiously. “Are you offering to resuscitate me?”

You held your gaze but as the weight of his words settled into your mind, your eyes briefly flickered to his lips. If you kissed him, you’d need resuscitation immediately after.

Shaking your head at his antics, you smiled and made your way back to your station. Perhaps you could calm your racing heart when there was a sea of people blocking the blonde from your view.

It was better not to reply and let him win this playful round.

Despite being in a kitchen, there was something different brewing between the two of you.

Proud of himself when you folded, Sanji began his return to his chopping boards when the kitchen doors opened and Zeff called him back almost immediately. Upon returning to the table, Sanji explained his pride and joy of the evening.

His True Bluefin Sauté.

“The day the Baratie serves something like that is the day hell freezes over.” Zeff snapped and the clatter of plates told you that he had binned the dish.

Oh boy… You took in a deep breath while trying not to be so distracted by the duo. Twenty seconds of background shouting later, your timer went off and you swapped pastry trays filling the kitchen with the sweet smell of sticky date pudding.

Zeff snapped his fingers at you as you were bringing the latest delicacy over. “Change aprons, you’re my ‘second’ from now on.”

You placed the tray down and called for a server to take the desserts to their respected tables before shaking your head at the owner of the Baratie.

“Zeff, I can’t. I mean, I could but I’m working on the fruit pies. They’re delicate and need-”

“I know, they need your undivided attention. Patty can keep an eye on them. I want you overseeing this kitchen now. No more dual sous-chefs. Seems like the list of people I can trust is growing thinner by the day.” Zeff instructed and looked at Sanji.

“You’re off the line. Now get out there and wait the tables. Go!”

Shoulders tense, Sanji tugged off his apron and threw it on the table. From the way you saw his jaw clench, you knew he was holding back some unsavoury comments. Once the furious cook had changed and left the kitchen, Zeff turned to where you had been watching Sanji and picked up on the sadness in your eyes.

“And you - don’t even think about letting that Little Eggplant pick up so much as a fork in here. Understood?”

You had almost not replied if the man hadn’t snapped his fingers. Focusing back, you realised he was staring at you with a hardened expression

“Yes, chef.” You nodded half-heartedly.

Zeff grunted and then disappeared to another part of the restaurant.

Patty walked by to set a new dish down on the table in front of you and handed you a fresh apron. He also noted the way your posture sank with Sanji’s absence.

“Come on, this kitchen isn’t going to run itself.” He said kindly. "You can see him later."

Masterlist here (for more One Piece)

[loveanton]

melting point | lee anton

ꕤ DESCRIPTION: after spending the last few months as anton’s hidden secret you finally reach your limit with his inconsistency.

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: situationship!anton x f!reader

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 2.8k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: desperate anton, some jealousy, kissing, and brief mentions of sex and alcohol

⏤ 𝑎/n: first riize post ^-^

You’re at your limit.

The bass pounds in sync with the rapid thump of your heart. The club is a kaleidoscope of pulsating lights and swirling laughter, but your focus narrows on one person: Anton. He's across the room, surrounded by a cluster of people, his magnetic charm drawing them in like moths to a flame. And there she is, Minji, hanging on his every word, her laughter tinkling like glass wind chimes.

You clutch your drink, the ice cubes clinking against the red solo cup in a rhythm that matches the turmoil in your mind. This isn't the first time you've found yourself in this position — watching Anton flirt effortlessly, his attention a fleeting commodity you crave but can never fully grasp. 

You take a deep breath, trying to quell the rising tide of emotions threatening to engulf you. It's a familiar battle, one you've fought countless times before. But tonight feels different, heavier somehow, as if the weight of your unspoken desires has become too much to bear. The two of you aren't exclusive, you remind yourself. You’re just...something. 

Yet, seeing him engrossed in conversation with another girl ignites a flurry of emotions within you.

As you stand there, grappling with your emotions, the thumping bass seems to echo the rhythm of your racing heart. A familiar voice breaks through the haze of your thoughts, pulling you back to the present moment. "You okay?"

Turning, you see Heejin, your closest friend and roommate, her concern etched into the lines of her face. She knows you better than anyone, sensing the storm brewing beneath your calm facade.

You offer her a small smile, though it feels feeble against the weight of your emotions. "I'm fine," you reply, though the words ring hollow even to your own ears.

Heejin studies you for a moment, her gaze searching and knowing. "No you're not. I can see it written all over your face."

Tears threaten to spill from your eyes as you meet her gaze, the floodgates of your emotions threatening to burst open. "It's just... Anton," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Understanding flashes in Heejin's eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the pain you're feeling. "I know," she murmurs, her voice soft but steady. "I've seen how much he means to you."

As you stand there, with Heejin's comforting presence beside you, memories flood your mind, tracing back to the moment when you first met Anton.

It was a late summer night in Seoul, and you were still adjusting to the bustling city, the unfamiliar sights and sounds overwhelming your senses. A craving for a midnight snack led you to the nearest convenience store, where you stumbled through the aisles in search of something familiar amidst the sea of unfamiliar products.

Lost in your own thoughts, you barely noticed the figure standing nearby until he spoke, his soft voice breaking through the fog of your confusion. "Need help finding something?"

You turned to see Anton, a friendly smile on his face, his easy demeanor putting you at ease. Relief washed over you as you realized he spoke English, a rare find in a country where you struggled to navigate the language barrier.

With his guidance, you found the sweet treat you were looking for, and as you parted ways, a sense of gratitude swelled within you. Little did you know, that chance encounter would become the start of something more.

Every Friday night after a long week of lectures, like clockwork, you found yourself drawn back to the same convenience store, hoping to catch another glimpse of the stranger who had shown you kindness in a foreign land. And without fail, there he would be, waiting for you in the back near the ramen section, a knowing smile on his lips as he greeted you with a simple "Hey."

In those moments, surrounded by the hum of refrigerators and the soft glow of fluorescent lights, you found solace in Anton's company.

You shared stories and laughter over steaming bowls of ramen, forging a bond that grew stronger with each passing week. And as you navigated the complexities of life in a new country, Anton became your anchor, a constant presence amidst the chaos of change. Eventually though the late night ramen runs shifted into late night hookups at his dorm.

You never intended to fall so hard and so fast for Anton but something about his soft spoken nature and charming smile rendered you a fool and now, as you stand here, grappling with the ache in your chest, you can't help but wonder if your bond with Anton was nothing more than a fleeting moment in time. The uncertainty of your situationship weighs heavily on your heart, overshadowing the warmth of those Friday night encounters.

You take a shaky breath, the weight of your unspoken feelings heavy on your chest. "What should I do?" you ask, your voice tinged with desperation.

Heejin listens to your question, her gaze softening with empathy as she considers her response. She reaches out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder before speaking. "You deserve someone who sees you for who you are, not just a fleeting lay in the dead of night," she says gently, her words carrying the weight of truth.

You bristle at her words, a surge of defensiveness rising within you. "But maybe he just... he's busy, you know? Maybe he's just not good at showing his feelings," you protest, the familiar excuses falling from your lips like a well-rehearsed script.

Heejin's expression remains unchanged, her gaze unwavering as she meets your eyes. "You've been holding onto this hope for so long, but deep down, you know it's not enough," she says firmly, her tone gentle but resolute. "Anton's status as an idol may complicate things, but that doesn't excuse his lack of effort outside of those late-night meetups."

You falter under her scrutiny, the weight of her words sinking in with each passing moment. She's right, of course. Anton's gestures, while comforting in the moment, were little more than crumbs of affection scattered at your feet, never enough to sustain the hunger in your heart.

"He invited you to this party, right?" Heejin continues, "But look around you. Do you see him anywhere near you? Or is he off, charming someone who's 'socially acceptable' to be seen with?"

A bitter taste rises in your mouth as you glance around the room, taking in the sight of Anton across the crowded space, his attention focused on Minji, someone who fits seamlessly into his world of fame and glamor. And suddenly, the illusion shatters, leaving behind nothing but the harsh reality of your situation.

You take a shaky breath, the truth settling over you like a heavy blanket. "You're right," you whisper, your voice barely audible above the noise of the party. "I've been fooling myself, thinking there was something more between us."

Heejin squeezes your shoulder in silent solidarity, her presence a source of comfort in the midst of your turmoil. "It's okay to let go," she says softly, her words a gentle reminder that sometimes, the hardest part is acknowledging when it's time to move on.

Tears sting your eyes as you feel the weight of regret settle upon your shoulders. "I feel so stupid," you admit, your voice trembling with emotion. "I wasted half my summer on a boy who wasn't worth it."

Heejin pulls you into a comforting embrace, her arms a shelter from the storm raging within you. "You're not stupid," she reassures you, her voice soft but firm. "You took a chance on something that felt real, and that's nothing to be ashamed of."

Despite her comforting words, you can't help but feel a pang of disappointment in yourself. You had allowed yourself to be swept away by the allure of Anton's charm, only to realize too late that it was nothing more than a facade.

"But hey," Heejin continues, her tone brightening with a hint of optimism, "at least you made some fun memories to last you through the upcoming semester, right?"

You manage a small smile through your tears, grateful for Heejin's unwavering support. "Yeah, I guess you're right," you concede, the weight on your heart easing ever so slightly at the reminder of the good times you shared.

Just as you and Heejin decide to leave the club, your resolve wavering but firm, you excuse yourself to use the restroom. As you navigate through the crowded space towards the restroom, a familiar voice calls out to you, stopping you in your tracks. "Hey, can we talk?"

You turn to see Anton standing there, his expression unreadable as he pulls you aside, away from the prying eyes of the partygoers. Despite the ache in your chest, you can't help but feel a flicker of curiosity at his sudden appearance.

"He invited you to this party, right?" Heejin's words echo in your mind, a stark reminder of the reality you had tried so hard to ignore.

Anton's voice interrupts your thoughts, his words cutting through the noise of the club like a beacon in the darkness. "I missed you, angel," he confesses, his arms encircling your waist in a familiar embrace.

You freeze at his touch, the conflicting emotions raging within you like a storm. His warmth against your skin, once a source of comfort, now feels suffocating in its familiarity. You remain silent, unable to form coherent words amidst the chaos of your thoughts.

Unfazed by your lack of response, Anton leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers softly, "Do you want to head home with me tonight?"

The question hangs in the air between you, heavy with unspoken implications. But before you can consider his offer, a surge of frustration and indignation rises within you, breaking through the haze of confusion and growing horniness.

"No," you reply firmly, your voice tinged with a hint of defiance. "I need to know, Anton. What are we? What do you want from me?" You pause, your gaze searching his face for any sign of sincerity. "Because this... this isn't fair to me."

Anton's expression shifts, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before being replaced by a mask of indifference. "What do you mean?" he asks, his tone casual, as if your question holds no weight.

But you refuse to back down, the fire burning within you fueling your resolve. "You know exactly what I mean," you insist, your voice rising with each word. "You reel me in with compliments and empty promises, but you never follow through. You only ever want to see me at night, where no one else can see us. I deserve more than that, Anton. We both do."

Anton's grip tightens slightly around your waist, his brows furrowing in frustration. "It's not that simple, okay?" he retorts, his voice tinged with defensiveness. "You know how hectic my schedule is with my job. I can't always be there when you want me to be."

You shake your head, the bitterness of his words leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. "It's not about being there all the time, Anton," you counter, your voice tinged with disappointment. "It's about making an effort, about showing me that I actually mean something to you."

He opens his mouth to respond, but you beat him to it. "I'm tired of the excuses, Anton," you continue, your tone weary but resolute. "I need more than empty promises and late-night hookups. I need someone who's willing to put in the effort, someone who's not afraid to show me off to the world."

Anton's jaw tightens, his frustration palpable as he struggles to find the right words. "You think I don't want that too?" he finally blurts out, his voice edged with exasperation. "Do you have any idea what it's like to live under the constant scrutiny of the public eye? To have every move you make dissected and judged?"

His words hang in the air between you, heavy with the weight of his own insecurities. You understand the pressures of his career, the sacrifices he's had to make to maintain his image in the spotlight. But it's hard to reconcile his struggles with the hurt you've endured in silence.

"I know it's not easy," you concede, your voice softening with empathy. "But that doesn't excuse the way you've treated me, Anton. I've been patient, I've been understanding, but I can't keep pretending like everything's okay when it's not."

Anton's gaze flickers with a mixture of regret and resignation as he takes a step closer, his hand reaching out to brush against your cheek. "I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice laced with sincerity. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I just... I don't know how to do this."

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his eyes, the raw honesty of his confession stirring something within you. But before you can respond, he closes the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a desperate kiss.

For a moment, the world falls away, leaving behind only the heat of his touch and the softness of his lips against yours. And in that fleeting moment of intimacy, you're tempted to forget all the pain and uncertainty, to lose yourself in the familiarity of his embrace.

As Anton pulls away from the kiss, desperation flashes in his eyes, pleading with you not to leave him. "Please, don't go," he whispers, his voice cracking with emotion. "I can't lose you, not like this."

His hands tremble as they cup your face, his lips trailing soft kisses across your cheeks, each touch a silent plea for forgiveness. "I'll do better, I promise," he murmurs against your skin, his breath warm against your ear. "I'll put a label on what we have, I'll make it official. Just give me another chance."

You feel a surge of conflicting emotions coursing through you, torn between the pain of the past and the hope of a future where things could be different.

"I don't know, Anton," you murmur, your voice trembling with uncertainty. "I want to believe you, but... how can I be sure this time will be different?"

Anton's expression softens, a flicker of determination crossing his features. "I'll show you," he vows, his words laced with conviction. "I'll make it up to you, every single day. Just tell me what I need to do, and I'll do it."

You hesitate, torn between the desire to believe in him and the fear of being hurt again. But as you meet his gaze, a glimmer of hope flickers within you, a belief that perhaps, just perhaps, there's still a chance for redemption.

"Okay," you whisper, your voice barely audible above the chaos of the club. "But this is your last chance, Anton. No more empty promises, no more excuses. Show me that you mean it this time."

Anton leans in once again and captures your lips in another kiss, this time with a depth of emotion that leaves you reeling. It's as if he's pouring all of his love and regret into the fervent press of his mouth against yours, a silent plea for your forgiveness.

When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the space between you. "I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm so sorry for everything."

You feel a lump forming in your throat as you listen to him speak.

"Can I make it up to you?" Anton asks, his voice barely above a whisper. “Come home with me, let me show you how sorry I am, angel.”

You take a step back to look into his eyes but Anton quickly scoops you back towards his body. His other hand is on the side of your face, pulling you in. He dips his head and crashes his soft lips against your waiting lips. You let out a moan at the force behind the kiss but don’t object. He turns his head to deepen the kiss and slips his tongue into your mouth.

The kiss only gets hotter and hotter as you continue, Anton tilts his head to the side and you move yours in the opposite direction. Parting from your lips, he moves down gently to the corner of your lips, the tip of his nose buried in the junction of your jaw to take deep breaths of your intoxicating scent.

The male lays more open mouthed kisses down your neck, making you feel nothing but pure bliss. Your eyes shut as you moan into the air.

His hands move from your waist downwards, sliding over your jeans to caress your ass and thighs. He places one more love bite on your neck before bending a bit and lifting the back of your thighs as if you weigh nothing. You gasp in surprise and wrap your arms around his neck tightly so as to not fall.

You tug at his hair before responding to his previous question. “Take me home, Chanie.”

[bibibelly]

windy cliff ➶

parings: jacaerys velaryon x targaryen!reader

content: angst, fluff, based off the cliff scene in ep2 s2!

warnings: mentions of lukes’ death, chaotic family dynamics, war mentions

you look off the edge of the cliff, the wind blowing violently against your hair, making a mess of your curls. picking up a rock at your feet, your throw it as hard as you can, watching it land far into the sand underneath the cliff.

“i knew i would find you here.”

taking a step back, you crank your neck slightly not bothering to turn fully, already knowing who it is. “of course you would, jace, how was dinner?”

you hear his steps getting closer, hearing the mud squish under his boots, making you cringe. he places his hand on your exposed shoulder, patting it. “chaotic as ever..” he says, pausing. “what was the reason for your absence, y/n?”

turning back to him, you shove rock into his hand. since growing up together, both of you knew how intense the family could be at times. being of high status families, showing your rage and emotions were seen as unfit, primarily for you, it would be seen as un lady like. with war brewing between the blacks and the greens, family dinners have become more of a chore than anything else. jace knew it, and you knew it, the family was slowly falling apart at the seems, especially after luke’s’ death. war was approaching.

you grab another rock, throwing it once more, following jace.

“sometimes i think i hate them.” you say, staring off into the sand below you. “my father has been, so distant and cold lately.” your white curls blow against your face yet again, bringing your hands up to push them back against the windy sea, looking at him.

jacaerys furrows his brows, chuckling slightly, trying to ease the tension. “yes, daemon can be tough at times.. but he is your father.”

humming in response, you walk towards a rock near the edge of the cliff, sitting down.

“fathers can be quite difficult, yes?” jacaerys leans against his leg, looking over at you, giving a forced smile yet again. he begins walking towards you, sitting down on the ground, patting the rock your sitting on. you roll your eyes slightly, looking down at him, studying his features.

“and what is it you remember about my uncle, your father?” you bring a hand to his curls, patting them down, helping tame them from the wind.

“he taught us many things.. he taught us how to fish, and sing sailors’ shanties.” he chuckles, squinting his eyes slightly, looking up at you. “and ser harwin strong, well, he loved us as well.. i think.” getting up, he brushes his clothes off, wiping the mud off from the damp grass he once sat in.

you furrow your brows at him, getting up from the rock, following after him. you knew jace had a complicated relationships with the father figures in his life. being accused of being one of the ‘bastard sons’ took a tole on him through the the years of his life.

“of course he did, jace! don’t say such things like that!” you hold his shoulder, looking at the back of his head.

he scoffs lightly, clenching his jaw, “which one?” he says softly, almost whispering.

you knew what he was insinuating, not daring to speak it out loud. taking your free hand, you move it towards jacaerys, wrapping both of your arms around his broad shoulders. feeling him lean back, his shoulders nudge your arms, signaling for you to speak again. “this fight between your mother and the greens have gotten out of hand.”

he brings his hands up to the ones you have wrapped around his shoulders. taking them into his hands, he cups them, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “i miss luke.”

you slip your arms off his body momentarily, your hands leaving his, circling him, facing away from the edge of the cliff. the wind now blows towards your face, blowing your curls behind your neck. he takes your hands into his once again, looking down at them, admiring the contrast between your hands compared to his.

“he didn’t acknowledge me today… my father. i know the reason for it..” he scoffs, nodding his head. “i..he killed the boy.” jacaerys’ eyes widen at your words, confirming his suspicions.

your hands leave his, yet again, rubbing your face out of frustration. “what will happen to us, jace? your mothers claim to the throne has weakened because of my father, he barely speaks to me anymore..and your brother is dead.”

he wraps his arms around you, his head resting on your shoulder. “war is brewing.” he says, looking out into the cloudy sky, feeling the wind against his back. jace was being brave, trying to seek comfort in your embrace, knowing deep down there was nothing he could do to stop the horrors to come.

also jace is getting no screen time

[imyourbratzdoll]

Could I request Jack sparrow x reader fluff?

hello, of course you can! I hope you enjoy what I've written, I added a tiny bit of angst, but I'm hoping it made the fluff even sweeter.

summary - jack had fallen in love once but had lost it. does he finally find it again?

warning - little bit of angst, mentions of alcohol and killing.

the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips (deactivated)

Captain Jack Sparrow had only ever fallen in love once. But the love was kept a secret as you weren’t human and it was dangerous for a pirate to love, especially your kind. There was something about you that pulled him in, connected the last piece of his puzzle, calmed the storm that brewed inside him. This love was beautiful, until the day you became hunted, causing you to flee and Jack to continue to search the seas. He’d always lie and come up with some insane quest, but the true quest was to reunite with his love again. 

Years passed by and Jack soon began to lose hope, he didn’t dare stop searching for you. But he was beginning to think that maybe you didn’t escape in time or that you had moved on wherever you were. Jack is thrown out of his thoughts as the ship rocks, he steadies himself by gripping the wheel tight. “Mr Gibbs! What was that?!” His hand moves to play with the light blue seashell in his hair, at least he had something of yours close to him. 

“I don’t know, sir!” Mr Gibbs runs over to the edge, looking over, his mouth opening and closing as he watches a tail splash above the water before going back down. “A siren! My gods, Captain!” 

Jack dashes over, trying to hide his hopeful expression. What if it was you? He’d be thrilled, but he’s with his crew and they wouldn’t waste a second without going for the kill. “No, how many?” He leans over, brows raised, eyes wide and arms in the air. 

“Just one as far as I’ve seen, Captain. What should we do?” Mr Gibbs looks at him, thankfully the rest of the crew were too busy with whatever they were doing to pay much attention. 

Jack waves him off, “Just one? Is fine! We will head to shore, I’m in need of more rum anyway.” He heads back, hoping that it’s you and that you’d follow him to shore. Jack could feel his heart in his throat, maybe some rum would do some good. 

They head to the closet land, no one speaks a word. Jack too lost in his thoughts and Mr Gibbs watching him closely, the older man wasn’t stupid. He had heard of the stories, the time that a pirate fell for a siren. He just didn’t know said pirate was his current Captain. When they finally reached land, Jack did something unexpected, he allowed everyone to go before him. Not racing off for booze or women, instead he headed off the ship and down to the beach. The sun had set, and the moon was rising, but Jack could still see clearly. 

As he moved closer to a rock formation, he noticed someone sitting on top. Your hair falling beautifully as always, your eyes that were once bright were now slightly dull and the smile was replaced with a frown. “Y–Y/n? Is that you, love?” 

You nod, “J–Jack…” You felt the sobs in your throat desperately wanting to come out. 

Jack rushes forward, his hand grasping your cheek while his eyes studied you. His own tears flowing down his cheeks. “My siren, my mate. The years I’ve waited for you.” He seals your sobs with a kiss, eyes slipping closed as he embraces this feeling. “I’m never letting you go again, love. Never.” 

Your hands feel his face and hair, they stop, and your fingers touch something familiar, your eyes move from his face and land on it. “You kept it…” You play with the seashell, remembering the day Jack had surprised you with a date on the beach and after you had eaten, you grabbed his hand and swam together. You remember popping your head up and handing him the pretty blue seashell, telling him that if you were ever apart that you would always be with him.

“Of course, I did, love. It was what kept me going.” He stares into your eyes with a gentle gaze.

Your hands stay on him, not wanting to stop touching him because then he might disappear again. “It’s been so long, I thought I lost you… I’ve been searching…” Your bottom lip trembles and your brows furrow. “I love you, Jack.” 

“I love you, my siren. More than words could express.” 

From behind and on the ship, Mr Gibbs smiles, raising a glass in the air before taking a sip. He was happy his Captain found his love again, thankful that his clues for you to find them finally worked.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[nina-ya]

Ways That Law Wordlessly Says "I Love You"

Luffy Zoro Sanji Law Kid Shanks Pairing: Law x reader CW: Mentions of blood. Fluff overall. WC: 1.2k

Leaning against the railings of the Polar Tang, the moon casting its gentle glow on the calm waters, you found comfort in the rare moment of the submarine surfaced on the open sea. Law joined you, and a comfortable silence settled between you, the only background noise being the ship's engines and  the crash of waves.

“You know,” he starts, his fingers idly tracing the railings, “I’ve heard of these groups of islands on the Red Line, uninhabited and unexplored,” his fingers seem to trace circles into the railing, mimicking the islands as he continues, “I can see the entire crew living on one of those islands, just all of us together.” His fingers halt in their place, and his gaze shifts to you, “... and I see you there. I see you and me together, just living without a care in the world.” The atmosphere fills slightly with a tension and you sense a rare vulnerability in Law's demeanor.

“There's something about the uncharted,” he muses, his gaze fixing onto the stars above. “It’s just so pure and untouched. Not ruined by horrible people, and we would be the ones to shape its story.”

As he speaks, Law's demeanor softens, revealing a side of him rarely seen. His eyes hold a glimmer of anticipation, and the corners of his lips betray a subtle smile.

"I've seen enough chaos and battles," he admits. "What I want is to discover a future with someone I care about."

In the quiet between words, Law’s hand reaches for yours, fingers intertwining. "I can picture it," he confesses, "a life where you and I are free from the constraints of the world. One where we can live freely." 

The conversation drifts into the early hours of the morning, the shared hopes and dreams only giving way to the certainty of being together forever. You know Law loves you when he talks about a future with you in it. 

- - - The dim light of Law's cabin barely illuminates the room as the submarine sails through the night. As a habitual insomniac, he found himself immersed in the quiet of the late hours. Papers, maps, and various other books are scattered across his desk, evidence of a night spent deep in thought and planning.

The first rays of sun begin to filter through the porthole of his quarters, Law, weary but determined, pushes himself to finish what he has already started. Knowing that you will wake up soon, Law decides to ignore the drowsiness that threatened to consume him. Without a word, he closes his books, tidies the clutter on his desk, and heads to the kitchen.

In the kitchen, Law moves with purpose. He selects ingredients, and soon, the aroma of fresh coffee beans fills the air as he brews a strong pot for you. The soft sizzle of eggs hitting the pan accompanies the noise of the coffee dripping into the pot

Despite the evident weariness in his face, Law continues. He plates a simple yet thoughtful breakfast—scrambled eggs, toast, and a steaming cup of coffee.

Just as the sun begins to shine over the submarine, Law returns to his quarters. The signs of a long night are evident in the disheveled papers, the scattered books. Yet, on the small desk, there sits a neatly arranged breakfast tray, just for you. 

As you stir awake, the smell of breakfast fills your senses. You look over to the source of the smell and your eyes land on the desk. There, you find the meal and right next to it, lays Law, who is sound asleep. You smile softly as you take in the sight in front of you. You know Law loves you through his silent acts of service towards you.

-

-

-

The smell of blood fills the air as the battle comes to an end. Law surveys the aftermath, assigning the uninjured members of the crew to tend to the more severely injured ones as his own attention turns to focus solely on you. 

“Here, let me help you.” He commands in his usual stern tone as he guides you to a less chaotic area, the subtle urgency in his voice betraying the composed facade. He quickly starts his examination on you, not wanting to miss any bump or scratch.

As other more bruised and battered crew members come to seek medical attention from Law, he quickly dismisses them. "Give us some space," he declares, a  firmness in his voice indicating that he is not to be disobeyed.

Law meticulously examines you and your injuries, his fingers tracing every cut, every scratch, every bruise on your body as he decides his next course of action. He determines that your injuries are only surface level, but insists on staying with you and patching you up himself. 

His attention never wavers as he tends to each and every wound on you, making sure to give you extra care and love and attention. He knows the rest of his crew needs proper medical attention, but a lingering voice yells at him to make sure that you are completely taken care of before anyone else. As he applies the bandages, you can see the care and love for you he has in his eyes. You know Law loves you when he puts your health and wellbeing above others. 

-

-

- 

Law sits in a corner of his quarters engrossed in the latest issue of "Sora the Warrior." The glow of the lamp beside him casts a warm light on his face, emphasizing the focus in his features evident in the furrow of his brows. 

You enter the room, your purpose being to look for something, but your gaze falls upon Law and the unexpected sight of him being lost in a comic.  A hint of surprise crosses your face, quickly replaced by a playful smirk. Law, sensing your presence, looked up, his expression shifting from concentration to embarrassment.

Caught in the act, Law instinctively closes the comic, a poor excuse falling from his lips as he utters "It's not what it looks like," a rare flush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. His attempt at nonchalance only fuels your amusement.

You can’t help but tease him. "Didn't take you for a comic book fan, Captain," you say, a playful glint in your eyes.

Law sighs realizing he can't talk his way out of this one.  "Fine, yes I'm into comics." he confessed, embarrassment evident in his tone.

Out of curiosity,  you encourage him to share more. "Really? I had no idea you were into this stuff. What do you like about it?" you asked, taking a seat beside him.

Law hesitates for a moment before launching into an unexpectedly enthusiastic explanation. His eyes light up as he dives into the storyline, the character development, and the battles. As he rambles on, the embarrassment melts away, replaced by a childlike enthusiasm.

He begins to show you the comic, pointing out details in the artwork, discussing plot twists, and even theorizing how the story might go. The more he talked, the more animated he became, his initial embarrassment transforming into genuine enthusiasm for the comics.  You find yourself smiling in complete and utter infatuation as his more unexpected nerdy side comes out as he rambles passionately. The excitement in his voice and the sparkle in his eyes shows you a different side of Law, one that you hope to see more often. You know Law loves you when he shares his unexpected passions with you.

[roguelov]

Sleepless Nights (Part 2)

Summary: Unable to sleep, you stumbled across Sanji at the back of the ship. A quick exchange, and some teasing remarks, a realization was made. Sanji hasn’t been with anyone, and you wanted to be his first

Word Count: ~3.8k

Reader: Afab (referred as love/sweetheart)

Warning: SMUT (unprotected sex, cream pie, riding, minor praise kink, inexperienced!Sanji)

Part 1

MINORS DNI/ 18+ ONLY

“Oh, sweetheart, I can keep going.”

Giggles - giddy and eager - cut into the still night air, only for muffled shushing to follow such unabound joyous noises. Footsteps padded quietly, or attempted to, across the creaky wooden ship deck.

Laughter and ruin would continue to fill the air tonight.

Just seconds ago, you and Sanji had merely tasted each other, and brought each other to pure ecstasy. Yet, it left a gaping hunger inside both of you. In a somewhat mad scramble, you hastily pulled on your sweatpants, knowing fully well they would slip right back off. You grabbed Sanji’s wrist, leading him back below deck.

To where? You weren’t entirely sure yet. Your room? His room? It didn’t matter, you just wanted him.

However, you only got a few steps before he yanked you back into his chest. He cupped your face, kissing you fervently. You hummed, delighted to be tasting the sweet wine of his lips. Your fingers carved a path down his chest. The tantalizing touches sent sparks over his wanting skin. Your hands landed at his hips. Grinning to yourself, your fingers sneakily skimmed further downward then cupped his half hard cock.

Sanji groaned against your lips. He broke the kiss, gulping down well needed air. His eyes dropped down. What were you -

You slowly rubbed him. He hissed, letting out a few curses.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured softly. He let out a breathy laugh and smiled up at you. His eyes - the color of the sea before a deadly storm - flickered down back to your addictive lips. “You are dangerous.”

You leaned in, brushing your lips against his and enjoying how his breath hitched slightly. “I know. Do you want me to stop?”

“God, no.”

Sanji kissed you again. It was loving and all consuming. He stole your breath without a second thought. Your knees felt weak under him. You instantly clung to him, he was your anchor in this raging storm of wants and hunger.

No, he was dangerous. He was brewing the perfect storm inside of you.

His lips slowly left yours. A soft whine rumbled in the back of your throat. You tried to lean back in to chase after them, to chase after such sweet nectar. Sanji smirked. He was thrilled to know he had such an effect on you. His lips trailed across your jaw then down your neck. You sighed, happily craning your head to the side. You would let him feast on you time and time again.

“Sweetheart,” he purred.

His confidence was growing, and the familiar honey rolled off his wicked tongue. He wanted to make you feel as you make him feel: weak.

He was weak for you.

So very, very weak.

How many nights had he imagined this scenario? How many nights had he touched himself to the thought of you? How many nights had you plagued his mind? He was weak like a starved man, only you gave him salvation and only you could satiate him. He wanted you writhing in pleasure after pleasure to understand a fraction of his hunger and devotion to you. What happened on the deck wasn’t enough. He wanted more, craved more.

Weak and hungry, that was what he was.

Sanji slowly kissed your neck, enjoying your soft sighs. One kiss there, one kiss here. One small nibble there. You hummed, smiling like a drunken fool. His teeth grazed along your skin, teasing where he might bite next. His face nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

“Please,” he murmured, a small plea. “Let me hear you.”

He needed to know if he was doing everything right, and desperately wanted to hear all those delicious sounds fall off your lips. Sounds only he was allowed to hear. Each one was a shock to his system.

More.

He wanted to hear more, hoping to leave you completely breathless. His teeth sunk into you. He definitely wanted to mark your skin. He gently sucked on your neck and soothed any pains with his wonderful tongue.

You whimpered as his name tumbled out. You bunched up his shirt and walked backwards, trying to lead Sanji. You had to get to a room. You both were still in the middle of the deck. However, you moved only a few feet before Sanji pinned you up against the wall. His lips never left your neck. Gripping your hips, his thigh slipped between your legs. He pressed further into you, making you grind down on his thigh.

You moaned softly.

Sanji - your perfect storm - was learning. Every tease you did, he returned easily. He nibbled on your ear, whispering your name. His hand guided your hips forward, rubbing you against him again. Pleasure rushed through you. Yet, before he could repeat the action for a third time, you pushed off the wall, flipping him around. You quickly took charge, as if Sanji was truly giving you much of a fight.

He melted under your touch, like butter to a pan.

Your hands skimmed over his chest and stomach. You slipped your hands under his shirt. He hummed, arching his back slightly. You traced over his muscles. The cook was surprisingly toned, or you supposed it was obvious given his size despite the suits he typically wore.

Your nails scraped down, making him gasp. You smirked. As his lips parted in that sweet small gasp, you dove in, slipping your tongue inside his mouth. Sanji groaned as he put all his support into the wall. Blood rushed past his ears. But, it could not drown out the delightful sounds of your lips against his, of your tongue swirling around and tasting every part of him.

You truly made him weak.

Distracted by your mouth, one of your hands reached down again. This time, however, you grinded the palm against his painful bulge. Sanji’s eyes widened and he moaned loudly. Yet, you swallowed up each of his needy sounds. You did it again, and Sanji’s hips bucked into your touch.

God, you were torturous.

The sweetest kind.

Pulling away, Sanji was panting. You grinded your palm into him, just to hear his sweet moan without restraint. And he didn’t disappoint. God, it was beautiful. The sound sent a shiver down your spine, and a dizzying fluttering in your stomach.

Biting your lip, you grabbed his waist and dragged him with you. It wasn’t elegant. You both clumsily stumbled around unable to keep your hands, or lips, off of each other. Your back soon smacked into a door. You blindly reached for the knob, and bumped it open. You unknowingly tumbled backwards into the kitchen, and Sanji blindly chased after you. Your back hit the counter as he trapped you in place. His lips once again happily kissing your neck. This wasn’t the place you initially wanted to be in, but it could work. Besides, neither of you could wait much longer.

You cupped his face to look at you. You asked, softly, “Here?”

He glanced around the empty kitchen. Perfect. To be honest, he wouldn’t want it any other way. “Where?” He whispered, excitedly.

“The bench.”

You gently pushed on his chest, leading him backwards to the ‘u’ shaped bench surrounding the suspended dining table. Sanji plopped down, staring up at you with stars in his eyes. You laughed lightly and slid into his lap.

You paused for a moment, wishing to admire the man before you.

You delicately brushed back his lush blonde hair to see all of his face. His lovely, handsome face. Your hands cupped his face, tilting his head back slightly. Your fingers glided down his face, following the curves and edges. A face sculpted out of sunshine and forgotten gold. And yet, his eyes glimmered like the treacherous unforgiving sea. Your thumb brushed along his lip, lips which were a siren’s call tempting you. And tempt they shall.

You captured his lips again, his divine lips. They were utterly addictive. You didn’t know if you could last a day without tasting them at least once.

Sanji groaned. His hands grabbed your hips, drawing you closer. There was too much space between the two of you, he needed to feel you up against him. His hand slipped under your shirt, placing the flat of his palm on your lower back. Your bare skin was so inviting and soft against his calloused fingertips.

“Can - can I take this off?” He murmured to your lips.

His hand kept crawling up your back, impatient and giddy to see all of you.

You whispered, “Yes.”

You lifted your arms, allowing Sanji to take the leading step in this dance. He bit back a smile. His fingers curled around the hem of your shirt. His heart pounded like a schoolboy, so much that he felt it in his fingertips. He tugged it up, carefully. Your vision was blinded for a second as the shirt was pulled over your head and tossed onto the floor. Sanji’s eyes greedily drank you in.

“Sweetheart, you’re gorgeous,” he mumbled.

Your heart fluttered under his praise and reaction. He hesitantly reached up, only to bring his hands back down. “Touch me,” you breathed out. “You can touch me.”

He swallowed, and nodded. His hands shook lightly with overwhelming nerves and excitement. His hands cupped your breasts so delicately as if you were made of glass, as if he was afraid he may break you.

You purred, “Keep going.”

Sanji shivered. Keeping his eyes on your face, he slowly kneaded your breasts. You sighed, blissfully. Pleasure began to crackle over your skin. With each sigh, Sanji kept going, kept playing with you. His thumb and index finger pinched and rolled your perked nipples.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you moaned, “Sanji.”

Oh, he loved that sound.

His cock twitched in his pants.

His eyes dropped down to your breasts. He licked his lips, feeling his mouth water. He bent his head down. His lips wrapped around one of your nipples. You gasped. Your hands flew up, digging into his shoulders. His tongue swirled around as he gently sucked on it.

“Fuck,” you mewled.

Your hands moved and threaded your fingers through his hair at the base of his head. Your fingers curled tugging on his golden locks. Sanji hummed, such a sensation sent a spike of pleasure through you. He removed his lips, and trailed a line of kisses across your chest to your other neglected breast. You bit your lip, trying to be quieter. But, Sanji’s wondrous vile mouth was making it difficult. He was dragging out and down into an ocean of pleasure. One swift under current and you were drowning in him.

You grinded down.

More.

You will happily drown even if he was your demise.

Sanji popped his mouth off and hissed, “Oh, fuck.”

You chuckled faintly. You repeated the tantalizing action. Sanji groaned loudly, throwing his head back. You wouldn’t waste an opportunity. You instantly latched your lips onto his neck, biting and sucking just as he did to you. You wanted him to drown just as you were.

Sanji whimpered.

Your lips curled into a smirk over his neck. Your fingers fell from his hair and down his chest. You bunched up his shirt. “Can I -“

He didn’t let you finish. He quickly pulled away and removed his shirt, adding it to the floor besides yours. You blinked then laughed.

“Okay, loverboy,” you smiled. “Eager, are we?”

Sanji’s cheeks flushed. “A bit.”

Your smile grew at his honest words. “That’s okay, so am I.”

You pecked his lips, short but still oh so sweet, before you dipped your head further down. He laid back into the bench as your lips skimmed over his stomach. You peppered soft butterfly kisses all over him. At each delicate touch of your lips, Sanji’s heart skipped. His eyes fluttered closed as you wove this loving spell over his desperate body. Until, that was, you nipped at his skin. Lust and desire was mixed into the spell. You injected it into his veins, making him gasp. Your sinful lips trailed upward. A patchwork of love bites criss-crossed over his body. Bruises would bloom tomorrow and he would cherish each one. As your lips brushed over his nipple, your eyes flickered up, seeing his eyebrows pinched together in pleasure. Smirking, you swiped your tongue over it.

He moaned, arching his back, “Sweetheart, I - I -“

I want you, I need you, he thought.

You knew how to make his body scream out, knew how to leave him gasping, knew how to make this nearly invincible cook into a puddle under your devilish fingertips. You kissed up his chest until you were face to face with him. “Come on, Sanji, use your words,” you teased.

“Oh, you little -“

He was cut off as a moan ripped out of his throat. You had grinded down on him, sending another wave of pleasure surging through him. You truly loved how easy it was to make him fumble over his words, to know you held such a devastating power over him.

“Speak up.” Your lips curled into a mischievous smile.

His lips were only a paper width away. His eyes constantly jumped between your eyes and your lips. He needed to taste you again, to feast on you in every possible sense. His arm curled around and his palm landed on your back, keeping you close.

“I need you, sweetheart.” His eyes seized their jumping and landed back on your lips. “Please.”

Your expression softened at his plea. “Okay.”

However, it wasn’t romantic. It was frantic. You leapt up removing your sweatpants while Sanji awkwardly wiggled out of his. No, not romantic. But, dear god, your hearts pounded with such excitement and adoration.

You paused again, glancing down at him. Propping himself on his elbows, he took you all in, trailing his eyes up and down your body. You immediately felt hot under his gaze, then he smiled. He smiled widely with that boyish charm of his.

“Beautiful,” he breathed out. “Absolutely stunning.”

You dropped your head, hiding your bashful smile. Shaking your head, you crawled back into his lap. His hands gently held your hips, still staring up at you with hearts in his eyes. His thumbs rubbed soothing circles over your skin. You brushed back his curtain of hair again. He leaned his head towards your warm hand. He grabbed your wrist, keeping your hand on his cheek. He turned his head and kissed your palm.

Perhaps, this was romantic.

Your heart skipped. “I’ll take care of you, okay?”

His eyes glanced over to you and smiled, “I trust you.”

“If anything feels wrong, tell me.”

“I will.”

You kissed him, sweetly. “I promise I’ll make you feel good.”

Sanji’s body buzzed with excitement at your promise. You would make him feel good, you would do everything you could to do so. But, you also would tease him.

Just a bit more.

Just to draw out his pleasure more.

You lowered yourself, and rubbed your dripping folds against his tip. Pleasure crackled down his spine. He hissed, tightening his grip on your hips. If this small act gave him this much pleasure, he didn’t know what he would do once inside of you.

You rubbed yourself down the length of his cock. Fuck, this was making you more wet. The feeling and thickness of him, his moans, it all made your heart flip and your cunt throb. You could rub and grind against him all night, getting off on this sensation alone.

Sanji moaned loudly.

“You might want to keep your voice down,” you whispered with a light laugh. “Wouldn’t want to wake the others.”

“Fuck -“ he choked on his words - “I’m trying, sweetheart, but - fucking hell, you’re - you’re -“

Teasing me, ruining me.

“Please,” he whimpered. “Please, I want to feel you, can I? Can I be inside of you?”

You leaned down, kissing his pouty lips. “Yes, of course, I did promise I would take care of you.”

Your fingers curled around the base of his cock. You lined yourself up, and slowly - so very slowly - sank down. You wanted Sanji to feel every inch, to feel how your body adjusted to his size and shape.

And, oh boy, he did.

His head tipped back into the bench cushions. He clenched his jaw. His fingers buried into your hips, bruising them. It was a miracle he didn’t slam you down.

You finally bottomed out, sitting beautifully in his lap. Your hand splayed across his chest as you tried to catch your breath. You shivered in delight. You felt full. He stretched you in a way you truly never felt before. A soft whine hummed in your throat.

So full, so stuffed.

Panting, Sanji glanced down. He swore viciously at the sight. His cock had disappeared inside of you. His mouth dried up. You were so warm, so inviting. Then, you began to move. You lifted yourself up all the way and gently sank back down.

Sanji choked out a moan.

Your bodies were meddled together perfectly. He was made for you, and you were made for him. His mouth dried up as he watched. It was utterly memorizing as you took all of him. Moving up and down at a steady pace, you wanted to ensure Sanji felt everything. Fuck, he was. His body and mind were being consumed by pleasure. Your cunt hugged his cock, almost unwillingly to let go.

“Love, can - can you go faster?” Sanji begged.

Ecstasy turned to sweet nearly unbearable agony. Your pace was torturous as pleasure filled every part of his body. A soft whimper escaped his lips. He craved more, wished for more, and will continue to beg for more.

He was at your mercy.

You let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah, I can.”

As you picked up your pace, Sanji moaned unabashedly. His sweet moans, your combined panting, the slapping of skin, and the creaking of the bench filled the quiet night air in the dark kitchen.

“Fuck,” he hissed out and instinctively bucked his hips up.

You moaned, “Shit, keep doing that.”

You pumped yourself at a faster pace, rolling and grinding your hips while feeling as Sanji bucked up hitting deep parts within you. It was heavenly. Each stroke made you choke on pleasure, leaving you gasping for air. His name fell off your lips. You tipped your head back, arching your back.

Sanji almost drooled at the sight.

His lips begged to drag over your body, tasting every inch of you. He wanted to tease your breasts again. He wanted to run his hands all over your curves. God, he loved those soft sighs you made. He loved how your face twisted in pleasure. He loved knowing your beautiful face was the first he saw painted in this light.

His heart leapt.

God, he wanted to devour and mark your body. Your sweet body called to him, tempted him. But, all he could do was stare; stare as your breasts bounced up and down to your pace, stare as sweat beaded across your chest making him lick his lips, stare as your swollen lips fell open with another lovely moan. Stare and stare while feeling his hunger grow.

Your hand slid down your body. Sanji’s eyes followed your fingers, curious as to what they were about to do. Your fingers then reached down, swirling and playing with your clit. Your walls clamped down around his cock.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he moaned, snapping his hips up again. He didn’t think more pleasure was possible.

Your head tipped back forward smiling down at him. “You’re doing so good for me.”

The praise was a bolt down his spine. His cock twitched at the sweetness that dripped off your lips. He only ever wanted to be good for you and no one else. He dragged you down again, pushing deeper inside of you. Your hands flew down to his chest, moaning. Soon, a new pattern emerged. Every time you came down Sanji forcibly bucked up.

He was a very fast learner.

Your nails scratched along his flushed skin. Purple spots and red ribbons will adorn his body in the coming days. Marks he will wear with pride. He hissed through his teeth, “Love, I - I won’t last any longer.”

“That’s okay,” you murmured. You lovingly cupped the side of his face as you continued to ride him. “Cum for me, Sanji.”

He whimpered, nodding.

Towards the end, it was animalistic.

It was utter desperation.

Sanji hungrily snapped his hips at a sloppy unruly pace. You grinded down onto him, rolling your hips. He groaned, arching his back. You had truly ruined him. He had feasted upon you to never go back. You will leave a crater sized hole in his chest forever. You and you alone could only fill.

Grinding down once more, Sanji groaned, cumming inside of you.

“There you go,” you whispered. You continued to ride him, working him through his orgasm and reaching your own.

His eyes lazily glanced down, seeing the white ring around his cock and his cum spilling out of you with each thrust. He whined and thrusted his hips up again, “Please, love, let me see you, let me hear you.”

A smile ghosted over your lips.

Your pace faltered as your legs started to shake. Yet, Sanji continued to guide you, helping you along. He wouldn’t dare leave you in such a desperate and hungry state. Luckily, you had an idea.

You extended two fingers towards Sanji’s lips. “Suck, please.”

Sanji didn’t need to be told twice. He happily wrapped his lips around your fingers, sucking on them. His tongue ran and swirled over the pads of your fingers. You whined and shivered at the sensation. You swiftly pulled them out of his mouth, then swiftly played with your clit again.

You moaned loudly.

Sanji’s heart skipped. “Come on, love.”

Your walls fluttered. Sanji groaned, feeling you around him.

“That’s it, please let me see it,” he mumbled, still snapping his hips up.

Playing with yourself, Sanji’s pleas and his constant thrusts, it all pushed you under the current. Pleasure, unadulterated pleasure, was wrought into your body. Your walls clamped down as you came all over him. You moaned out his name which soon morphed into a small whimper.

Sanji swore at the sight.

Your hands rested on his chest, needing something steady to lean on. Both of you were panting as if swam across the sea. You picked up your head. His stormy blue eyes locked with yours. A lazy smile spread over his lips then he laughed lightly. He was still in a dreamy daze, he almost couldn’t believe it.

“Tired?” You joked in a quiet voice.

“Exhausted,” he murmured, staring at your lips again.

You laughed once. You leaned down, kissing him softly. He hummed. You pulled back, but Sanji sat up, stealing one last kiss. You chuckled, shaking your head.

“Come on,” you whispered, already starting to move. “Let’s clean up and go to bed.”

“And will I be joining you in bed?” Sanji teased,unadulterated while secretly asking.

You smiled, “I was hoping you would.”

[dropsnectar]

Fawning Rose: Vine Monster x GN!Reader

The Adventures of an Elven Herbalist Part One

NSFW or NSFT

This is my first time writing anything in 6 years so keep that in mind. Also my first smut fic. Or monster fic. I literally learned about the sexual parts of plants for this fic. Don't know how I got here but this was fun! btw if you don't like oviposition, I marked the parts with three !!! before and after that scene, so you can skip it if you want.

WORD COUNT: 3167, or 7 pages on Docs

It had been a long journey from your home country, having to cross an entire sea to get to the sleepy elven town of Hairevick. An Herbalist, you could craft pills to treat a human flu, create a poultice for a dwarves sore, work-tired limbs; even brew potions to help a beastmen ease out of a mating season-- but it was still lonely. Their were no elves about, except for the rogue eccentric nomad. 

Feeling as you had fully mastered your craft in that area, and curious about your kind, you set forth in hopes of bettering yourself. However, when introducing yourself to your neighbors, you found everyone to be polite, but detached. As far as elves went, you were quite young, and the people of Hairevick were elder and not so trusting of outsiders. But worse of all, everyone here seemed to have an excellent knowledge of the local flora and fauna, and their uses in maintaining health. There was no need for an herbalist, especially one so unfamiliar with their lands. 

You spent the entire week mourning your state over glasses and pints of botanical alcohol-- The local tavern drinks were amazing!-- until you finally met a sympathetic face. 

He had long silver hair and the wisp of a ginger beard around his sharp jaw; a peculiar trait. He greeted you friendly enough, asking how you were settling in. It turned out that he owned a store in town, selling odds and ends. He even had a little apothecary in the corner, where those who couldn’t be bothered to make a forest run would buy herbs and tinctures. 

Starved for companionship, you bombarded him with questions about clients, and local herbalism. He was jovial, and after quite a few dregs of honey yarrow grog, offered you a book on the local flora. After some midnight bonding over stories of patients, he gave you a proposition. 

He was having some issues procuring some materials from a special plant, a Fawning Rose. It had incredible healing properties, but a bad habit of uprooting itself and fleeing from anyone who wasn’t a youth. If you could lure it out and bring back anything, be it petals, roots, greens, he would pay you handsomely. Maybe even give you some lessons on how to work with local plant life.

It was for this reason that you found yourself two days into a trip to the heart of the Haire Wilds bordering town. It was not going well. 

***

The cool air caressed your skin as you entered the grove. You had caught a peculiar sweet smell, somehow floral and buttery at the same time, and had followed it with hope filling your heart. The scent had gotten so thick you could taste it, strong as a tea on your tongue. Blue wildflowers covered the ground, interrupted by the common tree route or vine. 

Your eyes followed the vines or small roots, colored a sage with a speckled gradient to midnight blue. They traveled up into the middle of the grove. Sunlight, so rare this far into the Wilds, fell down in large delicious specks from the trees. They refracted off a large flower, almost two yards in width. Its petals were raspberry pink, turning blood red in the middle. Vines from its base led upwards and rested on the low boughs of the nearest trees, framing the flower and its various young buds like some sort of ethereal art study. 

You grew excited, feet tripping over roots as you ran forward, losing a shoe. You lost balance again and landed face first into the crook of a particularly large vine and hit your head. Hard. 

Hot pain crashed through you, making you curse as you steadied yourself. You tried to get up but the heat struck your temple like lightning as you moved upwards. Alright. Best to stay down then. 

As you waited, you were able to see past the stars in your eyes and notice a slight powdery substance on the vines. It, too, was pink. 

Maybe it was the thrill of finally finding the damn thing, or the head injury, but you felt different. You could hear your heart pumping hard in your chest, pleasantly tight. Your breath was ragged, the air pushing a hard, chilling heat through you. 

Like a particularly good run, your mind registered. A high. 

Your limbs started to tingle at the tips.

The rose’s perfume felt more like a mist now. You were only a few feet away from the base flower, and the scent had turned heady. Your hunger from a missed meal seemed to be surfacing, goaded on by the delectable smell the plant was giving off. While the pain eased and the stars disappeared from your eyes, you noticed that the lightheaded fuzzy feeling stayed.

Uh oh. Not a concussion.

You had to work hard to bring the fear into your mind. There was very little anyone could do to help you out here. The best you could do was not move around too much, and hoped the Fawning Rose would cooperate.

Suddenly, you notice some movement from the roots under your palms. 

No no no not now! Please, I haven’t harvested you yet! You thought as you tried to scramble up. 

The roots moved upwards with you, shoving you onto your side. Sliding around your feet, one took your other shoe with it as it slithered about under you. Another seemed to upend itself and squeeze cooly between your toes. You jumped a bit, but your gaze and mind were slow.

Something thick gilded itself on your shoulder making you look up. Vines, three, four, five of them descended and started rubbing themselves against you like cats. The movement was kicking up clouds of the pink pollen, making you sneeze as you wiggled against the plants outer limbs.

A part of you was horrified, thinking that perhaps you had scared the thing off. After all, you had been warned that this type of rose was particularly skittish. But the plant did not seem to be gathering itself to run away, rather it was pulling you closer to itself, the dragging tearing at the underside of your clothes.

Try as you might, you couldn't seem to think. Foggy, fuzzy, your mind was like cotton. The tingling in your fingertips has spread through your body, and an embarrassed part of your brain noticed your lower body was starting to awaken too. A warmth was beginning to pool in your gut, slow and lazy. Tingly. Fuzzy, like your head.

The vines continue to rub against your body, tearing the rest of your clothes away until only skin remains. They were relentless, cool against your hot skin. Their outer layers were textured but still smooth; a foreign sensation but extremely exciting. It felt almost like something was licking you, the powder giving a wet feel as it spread itself all over. Liquid heat glazed the innermost parts of you, much to your embarrassment. 

Aphrodisiac. You finally registered. You started to curse out that damned store keeper. 

You’d been played. 

You were now at the base of the flower, with even more roots and vines cradling and moving over your body. You were… pushed? Pulled? A foot into the air, close enough so that some of the smaller buds were leaning over you, as if they were getting a good look at you. You felt a knowing, a presence from this plant now. It really was looking at you.

Some desperate part of your mind, far far back in your mind, tries to set off danger bells. That you needed to get up and run.

Ooze started to secrete from the smaller buds, and the already overpowering scent of floral butteriness seemed to multiply. It dripped out onto your belly, warm and tingling, then your chest, your inner thigh, even a bit on your cheek.

The syrup dribbled down into the planes of your mouth as you wriggled under the vines. A particularly mischievous one pushes through the plush cheeks of your ass and moves up, poking at your entrance, causing you to gasp. 

The liquid touches your tongue. It tastes just as it smells, deliriously delicious. Sweet. Hot. It was divine compared to the little rations you’ve been eating the last few days. Like youd been starving and had sudden.ly been given free reign of a pastry shoppe. But no pastry could top this silky butteriness

What little heat that had kindled inside you was now a roaring flame, putting your past arousal to shame. You groan, and pull your head up, sticking your tongue out for more. A part of you is screaming to stop and run, but it is a stupid part that is buried instantly under your sudden overwhelming need. You are desperately horny, and you deserve to feel good after all the trouble you've been through lately.  

Still sticking out your tongue, you start to moan even louder as the vine messages your entrance with its thick girth. At the same time, one of the buds above your face seems to notice your desperation, and leans down to your lips.You lick at its plush petals and sweet sweet nectar seeps into your mouth. It tastes much like a floral pastry and you suck greedily as it pushes itself deeper in. 

The petals are so soft, yet still firm in your mouth as a river of nectar floods your throat. You giggled around it as it started to take its full effect. You felt light as air, so good. 

The vines had moved over to allow a bud to circle itself around your most sensitive part. You gasped out as it started to suck you, making stars flood your already glistening eyes. Your wet lashes fluttered as it began to suck wave after wave of pleasure out of your body.You had never felt so good, you noted somewhere in your sex drunk mind.  The whole time, the bud leaked nectar, completely soaking all parts of your groin.

The nectar left your skin feeling sensitive,  and completely soaked. This seemed to please the vines, which continued to massage the oil about you, then finally push in. You cried out at the sensation. Drool started to pool out of your mouth, mixing with the nectar.

 The vines rubbed lazy curving lines around your walls, making your hips jerk and shake. They seemed to know what they were doing as they started out slow for a time, then sped up their pace, thrashing about inside you. You clench around them, overwhelmed by the unyielding sensation. The pooling heat in you was building high, and you could tell the walls were about to break.

A rogue, mischievous bud had decided to examine your hole, tracing around your entrance in lazy circles. The petals were so soft, softer than skin. The texture made you feel desperate. As if to read your mind, the bud stopped. It must have been blooming because you felt little feelers, probably stamans, tracing about your genitals, wet with its lovely, delicious pollen.

 You swore and whined and pleaded for more as the vines fucked you through it, voice garbled by nectar. Another, thicker vine veined in indigo added itself to its companions and you finally came. The rush was like being tossed in the ocean, a shock that completely enveloped your entire body in cold, pulsing ecstasy. Eyes rolling into the back of your head, your juices spilled down on the forest floor below. 

The echoes of the waves of pleasure were still rocking through you when the vines surrounded your body started to move you upwards again. The vines were slow and delicate as they handled you, as if you were precious cargo. You were brought upwards, almost as if they were about to set you on your feet. Your neck was out, as you were still suckling the addicting flower liquid. 

You noticed through your long damp hair that you were positioned just over the center of the Fawning Roses main flower. A drop of nectar slipped out from inside you and dribbled down and onto the flower's green pistil. The stigma was thick, with four fat lumps at the top. The stamen surrounding it swayed, almost as if there was a breeze. Their magenta anthers rained down more pollen, causing a beautiful gradient against the deep red at the middle of the large petals. It was a truly breathtaking sight. 

A single vine wiggled towards your face and pushed back your hair. You found the gesture almost sweet, leaning into its touch. You remained like that for a time, before the vines started to lower you on to the stigma. 

No no no, you tried to whisper, some understanding dawning; but the bud was being aggressive with its feeding, pushing further in your mouth. It had a job, and its job was to make you so desperately horny and stupid, you’d let this flower breed you. 

The stigma was a hard fit at first. Its lumpy texture felt so good rubbing against you, you couldn’t help but hump back into it. The vines around you squeezing your skin, tilting your hips this way in that, trying to make the fit. The surrounding stamen started to rub their anthers against you, two started focusing on your nipples. You continued to hump the stigma, smearing the nectars from your groin all over it. Then, finally, finally, You were able to squeeze it in. 

The vines had taken over the humping for you now, pushing you down harder and harder onto the pistil. The lumps dragged against your walls in such a beautiful way, that you screamed out babbling whines. Your skin was covered in nectar and bright pink pollen. Every part of you was being squeezed, rubbed, oozed upon with tingling liquid, that you weren’t even sure you had a body anymore, just pleasure. After you came for the fourth time, you started to feel a pulsing within the pistil.  It was like the thing seemed to grow within you.

! ! !

Ridges started to squeeze against your entrance, rubbing against your walls. They moved up, up, up, into the deepest parts of you. There was a sudden burst of warmth, then something small and squishy. You marveled at the texture, as the flower continued to lower you down on the pistil, now at a slower pace, in smaller movements. You ached so badly, but the new sensation of the objects and warmth inside you made you wanna keen louder. They felt sort of like eggs.

Seedpods. You registered lazily. You were being turned into a seedbed. 

This realization only seemed to turn you on even more. They felt so good, rolling about inside your walls. The warmth they brought rivaled the cool temperature of the pistil, a delightful duality. 

You moaned with every bulge, push, then pop of warmth and heaviness. It was getting to the point now where the vines were pulling you up off the pistil to make more room for the seeds. 

! ! !

You were cumming so much now you lost count. It was getting to the point that you were just continuously orgasming, as the seeds and the pistil dragged against your most sensitive parts. 

You may have been like that for hours, days even, the nectar kept you so dizzy you couldn’t tell time. But at some point you were so full that the pistil seemed satisfied. The wriggling stamen around you stilled, and the vines carefully lifted you off the pistil, giving one last drag within your walls.

The bloom inside your mouth slowly dragged itself out, making you whine in protest. The vines carefully laid you down at the foot of their roots, arranging your body in a comfortable position. The vines slowly retreated from your body. They lazily moved about, sometimes knocking into each other in a way that was almost comical. Their movements seemed lazy, almost like it too was spent. 

As the last vine left your skin, it caressed your cheek. Within you some affection of your own seemed to bloom. The haze that was in your mind was starting to dull, and replaced itself with the need to rest. Your heavy eyes closed and you gave into sleep.

***

You awoke without opening your eyes. You could feel that the curving mound of roots you’d been sleeping on had been replaced with fluffy grass and soil. The smell of freshly tilled earth flooded your nose, and you jolted upright, eyes wide.

The grove was quiet, and empty of the Fawning Rose. All that was left behind was you, the upturned soil it had left behind, and light dusting of pink pollen on the trees. Even the sweet pastry-like smell had left the grove.

You looked down at your naked, sore body and groaned. You could see a trail of bruises from where the vines had gripped you, along with dried out nectar and tons of pink pollen. Your stomach puffed out a bit more than normal, meaning all of this had NOT been a dream. Much to your surprise, nothing hurt though. Your body felt great, healthily spent like you had just run a marathon. Considering how hard you had been working there should have been some pain, but there wasn’t. Just the pleasant pressure of the seedpods against your insides.You recall the conversation with the shop owner at the tavern. Looks like this is the flower's healing abilities at work.

You continued to search around the grove. Your clothes were still in shreds on the forest floor, but your bag was safely tucked under one of the trees the flower had rested its vines in. With some effort, you managed to get yourself off the ground to pick it up, waddling the whole way. 

The pollen was still working its magic on you, but you guessed you had been exposed to it long enough to build a slight tolerance. Or maybe the growing rage within you was doing the trick. You pulled out one of the many glass bottles, and a silver knife. You went to work, scraping the dried nectar and pollen off your body, into the jars.

I’m gonna charge that asshole so much money, his kids will be poor. You seethed as you spent hours getting your money's worth off of every plane of your body. You’d have to birth those seed pods later too. Your insides grew warm at the thought. 

You tried not to think about how you were going to have to walk home naked, where you’d been and what you’d been doing laid bare upon your skin. It’d be free advertising tho, you tried to reason. 

You'd make a killing. Aphrodisiacs were rare, and extremely expensive, especially to a crowd of immortals. I think I'll sell these seed pods on my own though. You smiled. 

You’d make sure to be properly prepared the next time you went into the wilds.

Might do a part two, maybe with slimes next time? Also sorry about any switching of tenses, I have a hard time with that! Hope you guys enjoyed!