#it's pure fluff and banter

[yallthemwitches]

A Hundred Visions and Revisions

She loves him like this: sleepy, slap happy, sometimes a bit handsy but willing to meet her where she’s at in the moment. It’s the quiet moments like this that keep her going sometimes, knowing that whatever is happening out there will disappear by the end of the day when they can hold each other again.

Rated T, Read below the cut or on AO3 Here!

Like usual, she’s already splayed herself across the couch, too enraptured in her book to notice the portrait hole swing open. Spotting her, he makes a show of staggering across the room, dropping his broom idly to the floor with a groan while soaking in the way her lips twitch behind the page in an attempt to ignore him. Making it around the couch, he gives no preamble and collapses against her with an oof, enjoying her small squeaks of surprise as he nuzzles his face into her clavicle. 

“Practice was bad?” Her eyes settle back on the page and a hand finds its way into his hair, fingering the ends that have been shocked into fractured points by the winter wind. 

“Horrible, awful, downright contemptible.”

“That many adjectives, huh.” 

He grunts, scooting his body down further so his head is cradled into her chest, arms snaking around her sides to find the place where her shirt has gotten untucked to draw circles into skin. It has become a tradition of sorts—she waits for him after practice, holding court in front of the common room fireplace and making herself look too irresistible to not fall into the second he returns. It’s a shame they only have one year of school left to enjoy it. 

 She tries to go back to reading, but he continues to sigh, each more theatrical than the last, fingers starting to tickle and pinch at her waist rather than caress. 

“If you want attention, just say so,” she says behind the book, mouth pressed into a tight line but her eyes sparkling.

“No, no. It’s fine. I’ll just lay here…suffering.”

She snorts, and he presses a victory smile into her skin. “You’re so spoiled.”

“Apparently not spoiled enough to get a little love from my girlfriend in my time of need.” He groans, wiggling his hips against her.

“When are you not in your time of need.” She murmurs, deadpan, but her hand moves to the back of his neck, slowly massaging the muscles that hide just under his tangle of hair. She feels him relax under her ministrations, finally abandoning his ‘woe is me’ act to let his body meld against hers. 

“What are you reading?” He asks after moments of silence, eyes fluttering closed from the rise and fall of her chest. 

“Oh, some book about sex magic. Some absolute nutter muggle wrote it—complete madness but fun to read.”

“Sex Magic you say?”  Suddenly he is wide awake, propping himself up and arching an eyebrow from over the book. She eyes him warily and tries to ignore the fingers that have wasted no time to drift upwards and play with the buttons of her shirt. He swoops down, pressing his lips to her neck. 

“Don’t get so excited, Potter. It’s a load of bunk.”

He hums, already undoing her topmost button and moving to kiss the skin there. 

“I dunno—-maybe we should test it out first…get a first hand account.” He gets another button undone and she makes a noise between a laugh and a moan. 

“I’m not very keen on being topless in the middle of the common room so if you could kindly quit it—-“

“You didn’t seem to mind it the other night,” he quips back and enjoys the view of her skin flushing from her cheeks all the way past where he can see under her uniform. 

“James.”

“Fine,” he whines. He stops his progress on her shirt and gives her exposed sternum one last kiss before settling his head back down, hands moving back to encircle her.

“You’re a tease, Evans. A dirty, rotten siren taking advantage of my poor knackered heart.”

She cradles him against her, letting one hand slide back through his hair while the other caresses his back. She loves him like this: sleepy, slap happy, sometimes a bit handsy but willing to meet her where she’s at in the moment. It’s the quiet moments like this that keep her going sometimes, knowing that whatever is happening out there will disappear by the end of the day when they can hold each other again. 

They lay in a comfortable silence for a while, the fire crackling low beside them. She can feel James’ breath start to steady against her, somehow keeping his grip tight on her despite sleep setting in.

“Hey James?” 

“Hmmm?” He nestles his nose down into her, hands grasping tighter at her waist. 

“Have you thought about it at all?”

“Shagging in the common room? All the time.”

She snorts, shaking him a bit. “No, you git—about Dumbledore’s offer.”

His eyes remain closed but his mouth sinks into a small line against her. 

“Nothing to think about—-I’m all in.”

She fidgets under him and the bottom of his jersey rides up, exposing some of his midriff. Absent-mindedly, she runs her hand over the skin, rubbing anxious circles.

“And your offer from the Canons? That’s a pretty big deal.”

“When the war is over, I can try out again.” 

“And if they don’t let you?”

He props up on his chin, looking up to see her staring off beyond the common room. “Then I’ll look into another profession– like magical artifacts or becoming your indentured servant.”

He expects her to crack a smile at his joke, but her eyes continue to look away, seeing something that feels much bigger than job prospects.

“Lily?”

She shakes her head like trying to dispel smoke. He sits up, swinging her legs so they now rest over his, hips flush together. Taking her cheek in his palm, he forces her to look at him and he sees tears just harboring past the surface. 

“I know it’s silly—but can you tell me the future? The way you see it.” she whispers, curling into him so the top of her head can rest right under his chin, book falling abandoned down onto the floor. She knows he’s no divination master–she’s seen his grades to prove it—but they both know that’s not what she’s asking.

“Well–” 

He stares into the fire, watching as the embers slowly lower and diminish one by one. It’s hard to ignore the feeling of encapsulation–that they are just children needing to concoct stories to make it all worth it. Her fingers play with the bottom of his jersey, anxiously awaiting his turn to spin this night’s fable, probably one of many before the war lets up.

“Well, first and most important, we will still be madly in love—sickenly so.” 

She makes a noise and he can feel a smile break through for the first time that evening. 

“Sickenly you say? Says who?”

“Says everyone who is jealous that they can’t be us. This shouldn’t come as a surprise to you as it is our current reality—obviously.”

“Obviously.” she echoes, before muttering arrogant under her breath. 

“We will fight for the Order, beat out Voldemort, and have an incredible victory shag afterwards—”

She hums against his chest and he can feel some of the warmth coming back to her.

“Who knew it was so simple—have you told Dumbledore this strategy?” She turns her head up to flick his nose and he kisses the tip of hers in return. 

“I did–he was shocked he never thought of it actually–said the last bit was particularly vital…”

She can’t help but laugh. “Sometimes it’s like your head deflated but landed right in the gutter.” 

She continues to look up at him, eyes getting more brilliant as her tension melts.  “Go on then—Voldemort’s miraculously easy defeat, victory shag…ok what else?”

He lowers his lips to her ear and lets them skim against the shell. “We get married.”

Suddenly both of their heartbeats fall into overdrive. He flashes his eyes down to see her cheeks are bubbling with pink, eyes wide and targeted right at him. 

“And what part of the sequence does that occur?” Her voice is barely a whisper and he notices her hands have stalled against him, frozen mid-fiddle with the fabric. 

“Well,” he knows she can feel his heart jumping against her, but he doesn’t care, “I was hoping during the exposition or rising action portion of the plot rather than the conclusion.”

Her eyes are dancing, surely from the fire that continues to drop beads of light into her hair and face. 

“And you don’t think that’s…unwise, seeing we’ve only been dating officially five months.”

His eyes meet hers, now devoid of jest.

“It’s not like being wise has ever been in my wheelhouse anyways.”

She could fight it—tell him it’s a mad idea to be thinking about marriage at a time like this, in a time where every passing day seems less sure than the last. But something about it feels too enticing to pass up—the image of them in a home all their own, sitting just like they are now but more solid and sure of themselves, leaning into the domesticity and adoration of it all because they can. 

 She worries if she ruminates on it too much, it will be painful to let go when the time comes.

“And we won’t bicker?”

“Not anymore than married people do—or we do now I guess I should say.”

“And you will make me breakfast everyday, in bed?” 

“Evans, if you’re my wife I’ll do anything anything you ask of me. My occupation is indentured servant, remember?” He is trying to stay light, but she can tell he means it. 

She wishes she could dream like he can—see beyond the rubbish and focus solely on the parts that can work. It’s simultaneously what she is jealous of and admires in him, the bright side is always where he wants to be. 

“James—” Its a warning: a warning that perhaps he is flying too close to the sun. A warning that perhaps it’s too tempting not to accept it. A warning that at this moment, it might be too much. 

But she doesn't need to say anymore. He pulls her closer to his chest, catching the top of her head under the crook of his chin and locking her there against him. 

“Don’t worry, this isn’t me proposing—just…just dreaming.” He lets the last word hang there, and Lily watches the image of them in their house with their happy life become clouded and technicolor. A fantasy. 

Suddenly, the thought of losing it terrifies her. 

“A good dream—a nice dream.,” She doesn’t know who she is assuring more, herself or him. “Something I want too.”

She feels his body heat rise, hands finding the end strands of her hair and curling his fingers through them. 

“Yeah?” His hope, like most other aspects of him, is contagious.

“Don’t get too excited Potter—there’s a lot that can happ—“

“Shh, Evans,” he says, grabbing her face, hands shaking with unparalleled joy. In his eyes the dream still lingers and she doesn’t want to ever look away.

“Let me kiss you—our dream can wait, but let me kiss you now.” 

[pretend-you-never-saw-me]

Good morning gang… remember when I said I’d be drawing/doing anything else? I LIED SweetCap tickle fic BAM https://archiveofourown.org/works/49841992

[sol-dial]

ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ

Some idiot: "Why are you reading your own fic, that's shallow and stupid"

All fanfic writers and writers everywhere: "Who the fuck do you think I wrote it for?!"

[thepencilnerd]

Feels Like Trouble

pairing: Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x F!Doctor!Reader summary: You and Robby have been secretly dating for a while now. Most of the ER is clueless—except the five people who could probably write dissertations on your dynamic. Enter a frat boy med student with too much confidence and not enough self-awareness. Robby? Jealous. You? Oblivious. Everyone else? Watching the drama unfold like it's peak primetime television. warnings: cringe flirting, depiction of boundary-pushing behavior, mutual pining, protective!Robby genre: fluff, slow burn, banter, crack vibes, emotional constipation, robbie's love language is acts of service, strong!reader energy because women run the world word count: 6.3k a/n: robby in his protective, simmering, quietly feral era + men anticipating my needs without me having to ask is my roman empire. p.s. also check out my other Dr. Robby fics (Not Enough | And Through It All) if you're interested <3

It started at the nurses’ station.

You were finishing up notes from a back-to-back shift, hair a mess, sleeves rolled, running purely on caffeine and spite. You barely registered the med student who leaned in a little too close—Jackson, of course. Jackson, who everyone knew had barely scraped through med school with a transcript that looked like a cry for help and a reputation for quoting his frat days like gospel. Jackson, who thought calling women 'Doc' in a tone meant to charm was somehow endearing. So, yeah. Not a great dude, to say the absolute least.

"Hey, Dr. L/N," Jackson said with that ever-present grin, leaning just a little too close. "You, uh... ever take pity on exhausted interns and grab a drink after shift?"

You gave a polite smile. "I’m not really a spirits person, but thanks."

Jackson blinked. "Huh?"

"You said drink, right? I’m more of a coffee or tea girl. Caffeine over cocktails."

He opened his mouth like he was going to try again, but you were already turning back to your chart.

"Good luck today!" you said cheerfully, not noticing the groan from your colleagues. Just around the corner, Mateo muttered to Javadi, "That’s the fourth time this week. It’s painful, man."

Javadi sipped her carton of apple juice with focused precision, attention directed solely on your ability to brush off such obvious advances without it getting in the way of your work. "Seventh, actually. If you count the half-made attempt on Monday. She's bulletproof."

"Try Jackson-proof," Mateo scoffed.

Two beds down, King leaned over to Langdon with her gloved hands clasped and asked, "Why does Jackson keep hovering around Dr. L/N like a... rabid mosquito?"

Langdon just smiled knowingly, looking over to the nurses' station where the man of the hour sat. "Don’t worry. Robby'll take care of it. Eventually."

Unbeknownst to you, Robby had been watching the entire interaction—and every interaction before that. If any med student so much as breathed near you with less-than-pure intentions, he was up in arms, ready to intervene at a moment's notice.

There was that time Whitaker nearly took your eye out when a patient came in with a nail embedded in his femur; the force of pulling it out snapped Whitaker’s elbow backward—only for Robby's hand to catch it mid-swing before it could clock you in the face. Or when Santos nearly sliced your finger open as you gently guided her through her first incision—Robby had materialized behind her in the span of a gasp, steadying her hands with a calm correction that masked sheer panic. Or when Javadi passed out for the second time during a gnarly pelvic realignment and collapsed straight into you, nearly giving you a concussion from her deadweight—Robby had been there then, too, catching you both with lightning reflexes and barely concealed fury.

At this point, the only person in the hospital who hadn’t triggered Robby’s internal security system was Mel. And that was only because she kept a respectful three-foot radius and shared snacks with you during breaks. The two of you had a quiet little tradition—inviting her out to try the new cat café when it opened downtown, or attending weekend adoption events together like it was a team-building exercise. Langdon once joked that she was the third wheel in the most wholesome slow-burn romcom he'd ever seen. Mel's only response was two blinks and a single nod of acknowledgement.

Everyone in the ER noticed your dynamic—the way you and Robby worked together like a well-oiled machine, never needing to speak aloud to know what the other needed. It was intuitive. Rhythmic. Like watching a dance you’d been rehearsing for years.

Still, only a handful of people actually knew about your relationship. Abbot, Collins, McKay, Dana, Langdon, and Mel.

Abbot had been Robby’s sounding board from the very beginning. Back when Robby was still pacing around the break room, torn between professionalism and the undeniable, slow-burning pull he felt toward you, it was Abbot who told him to get over himself and ask you out. Life was too short for regrets.

Collins, McKay, and Dana didn’t know officially—but they knew. The meaningful glances, the subtle handoffs of coffee, the shared silences that were too loaded to be casual. They never said a word because they lived for the soap-opera-worthy drama of it all.

Langdon and Mel were on the same wavelength. They hadn’t caught you red-handed, but their spidey senses were borderline clairvoyant. They never probed, never asked. Just watched it unfold like a plotline they already knew the ending to.

Besides them, the rest of the department remained blissfully unaware—except for the way Robby’s entire demeanor shifted over a year ago. A quiet warmth started to replace his usual stoicism. People credited it to the anonymous private donation made to the ER around the same time.

But the truth was, it had nothing to do with money.

It was you. 

You, of course, were oblivious to whatever other people thought or said—unless it had something to do with your patients. Robby sometimes joked that you were pathologically unbothered, something he made a mental note to ask you about, and he wasn’t wrong. The rumors from the nurses, the looks from the interns, the knowing smirks from Dana or Langdon? All of it flew over your head like air traffic.

Maybe you just didn’t see it. Didn’t see how Robby’s entire world seemed to tilt when you entered a room. How effortlessly the two of you moved in sync like second nature—side by side in trauma bays, tossing instruments, treatment plans, and glances back and forth like muscle memory. Everyone else could see it.

You were always focused on the next decision, the next step, the next person who needed your help. You didn’t think about what you needed until the shift was over—if ever. Your well-being came last, always.

But not to Robby. Never to Robby.

He noticed everything.

The slump in your shoulders. The faint crease in your forehead when a headache was starting to set in. He knew when you were on the verge of running on empty, when your patience was thinning, when you hadn’t eaten since sunrise. He never made a show of it. He just acted.

He didn’t wait for you to ask. He didn’t expect you to remember to need anything.

Because he already knew. He just... knew.

Your coffee, brewed and sweetened exactly how you liked it, would be waiting for you at the nurses’ station first thing in the morning. A second cup at lunch—always packed, always hot, even if you never had time to drink it. He’d drop it off like it was routine, like it was no big deal, because he knew the odds of you being pulled into another case mid-sip were astronomical.

Your favorite sandwich from the cafeteria, left quietly on your desk with a sticky note that said, “Eat this or I’m calling your mother.” You'd sooner pass out from hunger than remember to eat. He knew that. So he took the thinking out of it for you.

And after the longest days—those days where you'd made a thousand decisions, answered a hundred questions, led back-to-back codes—he’d cook dinner at his place. Quietly, without fanfare, and pieced together with the same kind of intention you gave your patients. He’d hand you a glass of water—because that was one other thing that you along with 80% of the population deprived yourself of—and steer you to the couch while he handled the rest. Just so you could turn your brain off.

You never asked, never had to, yet he always knew.

You’d just been snapped back to the present by the sound of an unwelcome familiar voice—again.

"Dr. L/N," he said, sidling up to you again with that same confident grin—clearly not deterred by every failed attempt before. "I’ve got a list of mocktails that might just change your mind. Pretty creative, right? I googled it during lunch. There’s this one with lychee and—"

You blinked at him slowly, like you were buffering.

"Jackson," you said, voice firmer this time, "I don’t even have time to finish a protein bar most days, let alone entertain another pitch for drinks. You’re taking time away from my patients, my patients. I sincerely hope you don’t treat them the same way—ignoring their boundaries and refusing to take no for an answer."

You didn’t say it harshly. Just plainly. Clearly and finite. Like a diagnosis that needed no follow-up.

Across the room, Robby pulled down his glasses as his lip quirked up into a slow, private smirk. Pride bloomed across his face so fast he had to duck his head behind a chart to hide it. He knew better than to coddle you. The mutual discomfort and stifled reactions from the staff were one thing. Watching you handle yourself like that? That was something else entirely.

From across the nurses’ station, the staff collectively cringed like someone had just dropped a post-op surgical tray. Santos and Mateo physically turned away to hide their budding laughter. Javadi buried her face in her sleeve, secondhand embarrassment blooming. Mohan took off at a brisk pace to see a patient. Whitaker closed his eyes and mouthed a silent prayer to the ceiling. Meanwhile, Dana, McKay, and Collins couldn’t look away if they tried, pressing down their grins and wishing they'd brought popcorn. Langdon sipped his coffee like it was a box-office premiere. King, ever diligent, kept her focus on irrigating her patient’s wound—Langdon would fill her in later with full commentary. Before you could continue—

"Dr. L/N," your savior called, tone light but cutting through the air like a scalpel—just loud enough to interrupt whatever nonsense Jackson was about to say next.

You turned and there he was.

Dr. Robby—your chaos compass, your caffeinated partner in crime, loyal boyfriend, favorite soon-to-be roommate, and at the moment, your very composed but unmistakably irritated attending—his expression perfectly calm to the untrained eye, but you could read the tension in every line of his face.

"Got a case," he said flatly. "Now. Come on."

You blinked, confused but relieved. "Okay."

You didn’t miss the way Jackson shrank a little at Robby’s tone, nor the way Langdon grinned over his coffee like he'd just won a bet. You caught up to him by the supply closet, where he all but dragged you inside and shut the door behind you.

"What's up?" you asked, eyebrow raised.

He stared at you, a little too intently, like he wasn’t sure whether to scold you or wrap you in bubble wrap. "Are you seriously asking me that after that guy just tried to chat you up in the middle of the ER like this is Grey’s Anatomy?"

You blinked, tilting your head. "Wait… was that flirting?"

Robby blinked back. "You’re joking."

You were. "I thought he just wanted to split an energy drink or something."

He huffed a quiet laugh, some of the tension bleeding from his shoulders as his hands came up to ruffle his hair. "Jesus."

You poked his chest lightly. "You’re kind of cute when you’re flustered, you know that?"

His ears went red immediately. "I’m not flustered. I’m... professionally annoyed."

You blinked. "You’re jealous?"

"I’m not jealous," he said tightly. "I’m—concerned."

You grinned, stepping close. "Concerned is hot."

"He was twelve."

"He's definitely at least twenty-six."

Robby exhaled through his nose. "I’ve been very chill about this whole 'let’s not tell the hospital we’re dating' thing. But if I see him so much as come within two feet of you again, I’m submitting a formal notice that you are very much taken and a complaint with HR about his behavior. And if that doesn’t work—" he leaned in closer, voice dropping—"I’m dealing with him myself."

You raised an eyebrow, lips twitching into a smirk. "What’s that going to look like—are you gonna slam your clipboard down and tag team him with Abbot? Because honestly, I wouldn’t hate that."

Your voice was teasing, but your cheeks were warm. Watching Robby get territorial from a respectful distance? Unexpectedly hot. And now, you couldn’t help but push his buttons to see how much more riled up he’d get.

He didn’t answer. Just leaned in slowly, deliberately, raising both of his arms to cage you in—palms flat against the wall on either side of your head. The move sent heat straight to your cheeks, blinking up at him as he leaned closer, so close his breath brushed your lips.

Then he kissed you—hard and fast and possessive, his hands sliding up into your hair, threading through it with the kind of reverence that made your knees go weak. You gasped softly into his mouth, one hand instinctively rising to cup his jaw, your fingers grazing the edge of his beard before curling into the softness of it. He leaned into your touch, like he’d been waiting for it all day.

Your other hand slid up into his hair, tugging gently at the strands at the nape of his neck, and you felt it—the way his pulse thrummed just beneath your fingertips, the way he shivered just slightly at your touch.

His thumbs caressed the line of your jaw, then drifted down to the curve of your neck, holding you like you might slip away if he wasn’t careful.

It was fire and softness, urgency wrapped in warmth. And you never wanted to stop.

When you finally pulled back, you were both breathless. "Is that allowed in a supply closet?" you smirked. 

"If they didn’t want people kissing in here, they wouldn’t make it this conveniently located."

You smacked his arm, giggling.

"I’m serious," he added, voice softening but maintaining a firm undertone. "I don't share."

You looped your arms around his neck. "Good. I wasn’t offering."

He grinned, still close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. "That thing you said back there—about boundaries, about respect." He paused, eyes scanning yours. "That was... incredible. Seriously. You handled it perfectly."

Your brows furrowed for a moment, caught off guard by the sincerity in his voice.

"It was... commanding," he added a moment later, voice lower, more playful now. "Alluringly so."

You snorted. "You're ridiculous."

"Yeah," he agreed, pulling you closer to pepper your face with kisses. "Ridiculously in love with a woman who knows exactly how to shut down frat boys without breaking stride, resuscitate half the ER, deliver excellent patient care, and still make rounds on time."

His hand slid down your back, warm and steady. "You’re the whole damn package, you know that? It’s genuinely unfair."

You chuckled, burying your face briefly in his shoulder.

Somewhere down the hall, Dana's voice rang echoed through the PA, summoning you for the consult. Robby groaned, forehead dropping to your shoulder.

"This is not over," he muttered.

You kissed the corner of his mouth, a smirk following soon after where your lips lingered. "Got any dinner plans?"

Robby raised an eyebrow, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Actually, yeah. I’ve got a date—with my incredibly beautiful, breathtaking, beyond intelligent, and painfully witty girlfriend."

You blinked at him, then laughed, delighted. "Wow. Sounds like a catch."

He leaned in and bumped his nose against yours, grinning. "She really is. And I think she’s about to say yes."

You didn’t say anything at first. Just smiled, so full of affection it made your cheeks ache. Then you nodded, brushing your thumb gently along his cheekbone.

"Yeah," you whispered, "she definitely is."

[chastiefoul]

waking them up with kisses

ft. nanami, gojo, sukuna, toji short, fluff, light-hearted. honestly such a word-vomit, written while i was half asleep. but hey hope you enjoyed it nonetheless! slightly suggestive on gojo

nanami

there’s a slight smile on his face by the third time your lips made contact with his skin, yet he showed no of being awake to you, who’s still oblivious to his subtle change of expression as you kept peppering soft kisses across his cheekbone. finally a low chuckle escaped him, he just couldn’t help it. “good morning to you too, my love,” he muttered, pulling you who’s still in his arms closer. the warmth of your body as he embraced you sent an unexplainable ticklish feeling to his stomach.

“seriously, it took so many kisses to wake you up,” you said lightly, brushing the strand of his blond hair. such a weird sensation, to be this giddy right after you woke up, but it’s one nanami welcomed so openly. “hmm, i might need even more to be fully awake,” he replied with a teasing smile, closing his eyes. you felt his leg tangling with yours, there wasn’t a part of his body that wasn’t touching yours. like a cat snuggling for warmth.

your hand couldn’t keep itself still, moving from his hair to his cheek. running along your thumb gently across his lashes, and the man suddenly fluttered them open. there wasn’t anything except love as he gazed at you so softly, grabbing your hand as he planted a kiss on your palm. all of it just felt so right, and you couldn’t help but wish that time ticked slower in small moments like this.

gojo

a big grin made its way to his face almost immediately when you started showering the man with kisses. his hair messy from sleep as he lied down, surrendering himself to your attacks; he laughed genuinely, the beautiful sound made you more determined. the mere expression of him being that happy brought you the same if not more amount of joy.

when you finally pulled away there’s a satisfied smile on his face as he opened his eyes. “best morning ever,” he said, pulling you close to his chest, forcing you to rest your head there as you listened to his steady heartbeat. “that’s what you said last time too when i woke you up with a head,” you bantered, there’s a lightness in your chest. he chuckled once more.

“well every morning i start by seeing your face is the best one baby, couldn’t help it,” he muttered, very lightly pinching your cheek as he said this. he then raised your chin with a finger, making you look up at him as he kissed your lips sweetly, moving slowly at the beat of his own drums as he pecked the outer corner of your mouth, and then your cheek. and then there’s just pure mischief on his eyes.

“my turn now!”

sukuna

sukuna indulged himself in a few more of your gentle touches on his face, the softness of it almost made him felt like he was out of place. yet he couldn’t help it, savoring each of your kiss as to making sure he won’t get used to it. finding wonders to every of your move as he cherished it so.

“i’m awake,” he mumbled, thinking it’ll stop you from doing it. but when your response was just to give you more of it he couldn’t help but blinked awake; the sight of you smiling down at him almost made his heart burst. “morning!” you said sweetly, resting the palm of your hand on his bare chest.

“i’m already exhausted looking at your energized-self on the first light of the day,” he claimed, covering your hand with his. “well, we have a date today, of course i’m excited,” you said, the exuberance was apparent on your voice. sukuna looked like he was thinking for a moment before making you lie back down on his arms.

“let me sleep a little longer, then we will do whatever it is that  you want.”

toji

“what’s got you so chirpy, hm?” he had an lazy smile on his face, eyes still closing. his calm expression betraying the giddy feeling in his chest; you were so fucking cute, what’s a man supposed to do? once again you planted a kiss on his lips, right on his scar. there it was again, the damn itch on his chest he couldn’t scratch.

“nothing, just happy,” you replied, drawing random patterns on his chest. “yeah?” he brought you closer with the hand that’s still wrapped around your waist. you nodded happily, snuggling closer to his neck.

toji thought words such as forever or eternity was bullshit until that moment, until he's got you tightly in his hold; all safe and cozy without a care in the world. yet in that split second he wanted it to be true. y’know, just to humor him a little.

“if i didn’t know any better i woulda thought you won a lottery or something.”

but it would be wrong. since he already won it when he met you.

[ijustwannabecool]

Media Day Mayhem

Charles Leclerc x Wife!Reader

Summary... What should’ve been a simple twenty-minute press conference turns into full-blown chaos when Charles brings the kids along—and then the kids get their own turn behind the mic.

Warnings: Pure fluff, kid chaos, dad!Charles, teasing, swearing mentioned by children (in French), banter, major secondhand embarrassment

A/N: you guys... the way I had too much fun writing this! I hope you guys enjoy this little story. I would love to actually see a moment like this in the future maybe. That would be iconic. I hope you guys enjoy it. Please let me know what you guys wanna see next!!

If you loved this story and want to support more F1 fics and soft chaos like this, feel free to buy me a matcha 🍵 or reblog/comment to share the love!

As always—happy reading, and have a beautiful day today

Like, comment, reblog, enjoy :)

✩ ⋆ ✩ ⋆ ✩ ⋆ ✩

The press conference was supposed to last twenty minutes. Just a few pre-weekend questions before FP1, some sponsor shoutouts, and a bit of media fluff. Charles had done this a hundred times. Easy.

What he hadn’t done a hundred times was a press conference with all three of his children clinging to him like magnets to a fridge.

“Mila, baby, don’t twist that,” Charles says quietly into his mic, gently removing his daughter’s hand from the cord running down his chest. She’s seated sideways on his lap, twirling the cable like it’s spaghetti. His twin boys, Luca and Jules, are squished on either side of him on the small bench Ferrari provided — all three with messy chestnut curls identical to their father’s.

“Charles, you’ve had a strong start to the season. What would you attribute that to?” a reporter asks.

Charles smiles, glancing down quickly at Luca, who’s trying to sneakily remove one of his shoes.

“Uh—consistency, for sure. And a lot of work with the team during the off-season,” he answers, his voice smooth despite the circus unfolding around him.

“I want to talk!” Jules blurts out, grabbing at the microphone in front of his dad. “I’m fast too!”

“You are very fast,” Charles replies automatically, pressing a quick kiss to his son’s temple as reporters chuckle.

“I beat Mila in the hallway!” Jules announces proudly.

“You cheated!” Mila screeches.

Charles coughs to cover his laugh. “Okay, okay, let’s not yell, we are live on camera, darlings.”

Another journalist attempts to move things along. “Charles, what’s your mindset going into qualifying tomorrow?”

Before he can answer, Luca pipes up: “Papa said the car was ‘a pain in the—’”

Charles snaps his fingers in front of him. “Luca! What did we say about telling secrets?”

Jules leans toward the mic. “Mummy says we can’t say ‘merde’ either.”

Charles hides his face with his hand for a beat as the media room loses it with laughter.

From the wings, you — Y/N — shake your head, arms crossed but clearly amused. Charles glances over at you like please come rescue me, but you're already motioning for the boys to come to you.

“Alright, boys, go with Maman,” Charles says, ushering them off the bench.

“Can we get snacks now?” Mila asks, hopping down and walking backwards toward you.

��Only if you stop tattletelling,” Charles replies sternly.

Jules makes a face as you crouch and hold their hands on either side of you, whispering something that makes them all go quiet and pouty at the same time.

Charles watches for a second longer than he means to—how you always manage to calm them down like magic—before turning back to the mic.

“Apologies. Where were we?”

“Honestly?” one of the reporters grins. “This is better than Drive to Survive.”

Charles laughs. “Welcome to my real full-time job.”

As he tries to finish the final question, he feels a small tug at his pants. Mila has snuck back on stage with her stuffed bunny.

“I forgot Bun-Bun,” she whispers.

He grabs it quickly and hands it to her with a gentle ruffle to her hair. “Okay, allez, go sit with Maman now.”

She nods seriously, then skips off.

Charles clears his throat. “Anyway—thank you all. I think I’m going to go find a quiet corner to cry in now.”

The media room erupts into chuckles again as Charles walks off, applesauce pouch tucked in one hand, baby wipes in the other, and you waiting with a knowing smirk and two giggling little boys tugging at your sleeves.

Charles barely made it three meters off the stage before Mila tugged on his sleeve and declared, “It’s our turn now.” He blinked, confused, until he spotted the row of miniature chairs being set up at the front of the room—and the Ferrari PR team, looking far too pleased with themselves as they waved the kids forward like VIP guests. Jules had already climbed onto one of the seats, Luca was dragging a juice box across the floor like it was part of his media kit, and Mila marched toward the microphone like she’d been waiting her whole life for this moment. Charles stared for a beat, caught between horror and awe.

This was not on the schedule, he thought, eyes narrowing. Whose idea was this? Did Y/N sign off on this? Is this revenge for the broken espresso machine?

He looked toward you for backup, but you were already leaning against the wall, arms crossed and smirking like you’d known this was coming all along. When you caught his eye, you shrugged playfully and whispered, “You survived your press conference. Good luck surviving theirs.”

Charles let out a breath, resigned, and folded his arms across his chest. “Mon Dieu,” he muttered under his breath, watching his children take the stage with terrifying confidence.

Ferrari may build the fastest cars in the world, but nothing moves quicker than my own kids when there’s a microphone involved.

The Ferrari media tent is buzzing with cameras, press badges, and a surprising amount of juice boxes.

——

A journalist clears their throat. “Alright… first question for Mila. What’s it like having a Formula One driver as a papa?”

Mila: “Loud.” Jules: “Fast.” Luca: “Sweaty.”

Everyone bursts into laughter. Mila shrugs. “He yells a lot on the radio. I don’t think he knows we can hear it sometimes.”

Charles covers his face with both hands.

Another reporter tries to keep a straight face. “Jules, if you were in charge of Ferrari, what would you change first?”

Jules (serious): “Make the cars green.”

Luca: “And add rocket launchers!”

Charles chokes.

Mila (disapproving): “That’s not safe. I’d make the suits pink and add glitter so they sparkle on TV.”

Reporter: “What do you think Papa says the most on race day?”

Jules: “Merde.”

Mila: “No! He says ‘focus.’ And ‘where’s my drink?’” Luca: “And ‘WHY ARE THE TYRES GONE?!’”

The room is losing it. Charles is whispering something to Y/N, who is fully crying from laughter.

A hand goes up from a British reporter. “Luca, if you won a race, what would be the first thing you'd do?”

Luca (without hesitation): “Call my mumma.”

Everyone collectively awws—until he adds:

Luca: “And then eat a chocolate croissant the size of my head.”

Mila (muttering): “That already happened.”

Reporter: “Jules, do you like watching the races?”

Jules: “Only the start. Then I get bored and play Hot Wheels.”

Mila: “I watch the whole thing. I have a clipboard and give Papa scores.”

Luca: “She gave him a 6 last time and he almost won.”

Mila: “He messed up the overtake.”

Charles looks wounded.

Final question from a German journalist: “Mila, what advice would you give your Papa before his next race?”

Mila leans into the mic like a pro.

Mila: “Be brave. Go fast. And don’t cuss if the tires fall off.”

Everyone in the room breaks into applause as Charles walks forward, scooping Luca into his arms while Mila and Jules are immediately surrounded by press taking photos and asking for high fives.

Y/N slips a hand into Charles’, her smile wide. “They handled that better than you did.”

Charles grins, eyes still on his little trio. “They’re natural born media drivers.”

——

Back at the hotel that evening, Charles was flat on his back on the couch, eyes closed, two juice box wrappers on his chest. You were sitting cross-legged beside him, flicking through the photos already going viral online—Mila adjusting her mic like a pro, Jules midair off the chair, Luca holding up fingers like he was flashing a gang sign.

“Next time,” Charles murmured, eyes still shut, “we tell them I only have one child. Maybe two, max.”

You smiled, brushing curls from his forehead. “Sure, baby. But admit it… they kind of stole the show.”

He cracked an eye open, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I’m not even mad.”

✩ ⋆ ✩ ⋆ ✩ ⋆ ✩

[meowdei]

in every life, it’s you — ft. sylus

before you read: gender neutral reader ; established relationship ; reader lays on him/sits on his lap ; very cringe and corny fluff and banter but i had to heal myself from the pure trauma that was his myth that i watched last night ; not proof read

“Sylus,” you whisper, “are you sleeping?”

Sylus does not ever sleep when he should—it’s a miracle that he even sleeps at all. Your question is a pointless one in hindsight, but you ask more for the purpose of getting his attention than anything. You realize a little too late, however, that stupid questions will always get you stupid answers with him. It’s an opportunity he never misses.

He gives you a dramatic, loud snore that instantly makes you roll your eyes, lips twitching into a small grin at his antics.

“Don’t be annoying,” you huff playfully.

“You should be prepared for nonsense if you ask me nonsense,” he says smoothly, voice a low, deep rumble through his chest beneath your cheek.

Sylus doesn’t sleep at night. More often than not, he sleeps after the sun rises and not a moment sooner—but he lays with you every night, anyway. Just because it helps you sleep. Just because you need him there and he likes being needed. (Sometimes, he lays with you more for himself. More for the feeling of your body curled against his while you’re most vulnerable, while your guard is down completely and you trust him. He likes your trust—craves it.)

“Nevermind. Goodnight,” you pout, turning your body to face your back to him. It’s useless—as is any form of petulance with him. Sylus is infuriatingly capable of always keeping an upper hand. You body gets flipped effortlessly with a thick, strong wave of red before you’re back to laying against his chest.

“Now, now,” he teases, “no need to hiss like a stray kitten. Your fangs aren’t sharp enough for that yet.”

You melt instantly despite his (lighthearted) mockery. It’s that type of effect he has on you. That feeling you get from the soft, easy way he smiles and that delicate, fragile look in his eyes. You don’t even think Sylus realizes it. How gentle he is by nature. How vulnerable he always looks. How easy he is to love and be loved by. Sometimes, you don’t think he realizes how easily love fits itself between the crinkles of his eyes and seeps into the smile lines by his lips.

You lean up, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw, making his smug, teasing grin falter into something a little more vulnerable.

“I was thinking…”

“That’s never a good sign,” he sighs in mock wariness, catching your wrist when you move to slap his chest and giving you a wide, devastatingly handsome grin.

“Shush,” you roll your eyes, fighting back your own grin before continuing, “I was thinking and I need to know: do you think we’re together in every life? We have to be, right?”

He’s quiet for a second, doesn’t answer right away as though he’s really pondering the answer. (Half of you expected him to scoff at the question and call it silly. The other half expected him to laugh in amusement. Humoring your deep, late night question was not on your list of possibilities for the night.)

“You’re working that poor brain of yours overtime with such thoughts,” he murmurs, raising a brow as he pokes your forehead. You scrunch your brows, and he grins friendly. “But I suppose it’s possible. Unless you’re smarter in the next life and stay away from me.”

You pout deeper, rolling to lay your body over his before your hands cup his cheeks, squeezing them together while you force his eyes to stare into yours. (He lets you get away with it. He lets you get away with a lot.)

“I don’t want to stay away in the next life,” you say in concern, like you’re really at threat of living through the nightmare of not having him by your side. He fights back a small, amused snort for the sake of your feelings. “I’d love you in every life.”

“Is that so?” He drawls.

You nod firmly, squeezing his cheeks together a bit more before a small giggle escapes your lips at the view. You press a peck to his mouth, and he cups a hand to the back of your head, keeping you right there where he can kiss you properly.

“Yes,” you breathe as you pull away, voice just a touch breathless. “I’ll be miserable if I don’t.”

“You’re oddly sentimental tonight,” he murmurs, running a thumb along your bottom lip as he inspects your face closely, admiring the delicate curves of your features and the light reflecting in your eyes. “Should I be concerned?”

“No. At least not for now,” you wink, “I can’t make any promises for the future.”

He laughs at that—it’s a low, rich, smooth sound that sends something shooting straight to your heart and makes it race. Makes the blood pump faster in your veins and your head spin at the feeling. Makes you think the sound of his laughter is the only thing you want to remember even when your bones bury into soil and your body returns to the earth where it came from. Just the echo of his voice, filled with joy and nothing else.

“Any particular reason you’re being so sweet?” He tilts your chin up. You turn your head, leaning to press a soft kiss to his palm as it cups your cheek.

“What? I can’t just love you?”

“Well, I’m not saying that. How can I complain about something like that?”

You sit up, suddenly. He lets you, taking the weight of you as you straddle his hips and sit up and cup his cheeks, gently grazing your thumb and studying his features like you need to commit him to memory. Like you might forget him in the next life and you can’t bear to lose the vision of him in the back of your mind.

You love him. It’s the simplest thing you’ve ever done. It comes as easily as breathing through your lungs and pumping blood through your veins.

“I’ll love you in every life,” you say resolutely, voice barely a whisper. “Promise.”

Something flickers in his gaze. Something hopeful with maybe just an echo pain before it’s gone. Before you can think too long about it, he pulls you closer, kissing you hard and firm and desperate like he needs to feel you now to know you’re real.

“I’ll hold you to that promise, sweetheart,” he whispers back, “so I hope you make good on it.”

Things that destroyed me and made me want to quit life as whole: sylus dragon myth.

[mariasont]

Sugar, Spice, Spencer's Advice - S.R

everyone expects spencer reid to fall for purely intellectual types, but what they don't know is your ability to remember his rambling lessons and your diligent googled research makes him feel irrationally turned on

pairings: spencer reid x bimbo!receptionist!reader warnings: established relationship, some suggestive content, brief mention of food-play (non-graphic, discussion only), spencer being protective, fluff af, spencer's negative outlook on sugar/food (super brief), teasing/banter, flustered spence wc: 1.4k request: here!

You’re happily licking at your ice cream cone, eyes soft with uncomplicated happiness, and Spencer thinks he’s becoming entirely too familiar with this feeling. It’s habitual. To observe you is like revisiting his favorite passage in a beloved book, each time discovering nuances he’s missed before.

He’d given in the instant your expression had turned imploring — big, pleading eyes, soft pout — your most effective weapon. Spencer has abandoned all pretense that he can resist your nightly sugar-driven rituals.

He’d pondered briefly the psychological undercurrents of your craving, but each theory usually ends up dissolving when he’s confronted by the smile you give him when he caves.

His attention drifts back just as your feet land on the dashboard. Spencer half-smiles at the sight of those slip-ons, your comfy choice through the entire day of painfully predictable romance movies. He was pretty sure he lost the plot somewhere around hour two — another mistaken identity plot twist, seriously? — but keeping track of said plot wasn’t really the point anyway. 

He’d watch paint dry if it meant hearing you laugh like that, but thankfully you usually pick slightly better entertainment. Usually.

Spencer reaches over instinctively, his hand finding its place on your thigh, patting twice for good measure.

“Hey, feet off the dash, please,” he says. “Airbags deploy faster than you think, and personally, I’m pretty attached to the current arrangement of your features.”

His mind trips over the calculation against the embarrassment of sounding like an overbearing parent. He’s not even your husband yet. Yet.

But you immediately drop your feet without complaint, settling into a position that looks decidedly safer. Spencer breathes a little easier. He gives your thigh a grateful squeeze, his thumb brushing back and forth just once in a wordless thank you.

You tuck your legs beneath you, body angled toward him, elbow planted on the center console, cheek resting in your palm. 

“My face appreciates you looking out for it,” you tease gently. “Always looking out for me actually. Is there anything else I do that’s, like, secretly super dangerous?”

Spencer’s eyes catch yours, and he lets out a laugh, shaking his head. 

“Come here,” he murmurs, lifting his hand from your thigh to sweep his thumb along the edge of your mouth, collecting the vanilla ice cream that’s smeared there. “As far as dangerous decisions go, I’d say your habit of leaving candles burning unattended ranks pretty high. One of these days you’re going to burn the whole place down, sweetheart.”

“But you said most fires from candles happen because of flammable stuff near them, not just leaving them burning,” you remind him sweetly, nose wrinkling with affection. “So really, as long as I keep things away from my candles, I’m totally safe. And I always listen to you about that.”

His heart flutters with messy pride and affection that makes him feel embarrassingly sentimental. Sure, conversations about Marcel Proust or string theory aren’t exactly your cup of tea (he’s pretty sure you’d turn your nose up at the mere thought), but there’s this distinctly genuine and wonderful way you navigate the world. 

You absorb everything he says — half-formed ideas, scattered facts, fleeting memories — in a way that weirdly puts eidetic memories to shame. 

It’s dizzying, actually, the way you’re smiling at him right now, effortlessly beautiful and clearly unaware that he’s suddenly acutely conscious of how his pulse is pounding. 

He loves you, he knows he does, deeply, and apparently by the way his face flushes hot and his breathing quickens, he’s more turned on by your quiet brilliance than he ever expected.

“Okay, so candles are covered,” he says with mock seriousness, “but what about all my advice on not talking to strangers or, I don’t know, not accepting free candy from mysterious vans? Are those making the cut too?”

“Come on, Spencer, you taught me better than that,” you say proudly. “I know all about risk assessment now, if someone seems sketchy or pushes too hard, it’s probably a danger sign. And,” you add with a satisfied smile, “that’s why you’re the only one allowed to take me for sweets. Want a bite?”

Spencer eyes the melting ice cream warily, the overly sweet scent doing nothing to tempt him, it’s essentially frozen sugar, after all, objectively terrible for him. The mental list of reasons to politely decline is endless.

But the knowledge that your lips have just been there sets off a chain reaction, desire eclipsing logic. Suddenly, he’s more than willing to abandon nutritional morals for the vague promise of an indirect kiss. Though, admittedly, he would much rather prefer the direct approach. But he’s fairly certain that running into a telephone pole would rank even higher risk wise than unattended candles or dashboard hazards. 

So, instead, he ducks his head, taking a careful bite, instantly regretting it when the sticky sweet cold paints his cheek.

Your giggles ripple, making him smile sheepishly as you shift closer. He expects your thumb, mirroring his earlier gesture, but then your lips brush against his cheek, your tongue catching the vanilla drip. Every ounce of rationality deserts him into one helplessly smitten mess.

“You know, saliva actually cleans better than wiping,” you announce thoughtfully. “So, you’re welcome, Spence.”

He’s half certain he’s never mentioned anything about saliva enzymes, but then again, he’s so thoroughly distracted by you most of the time he might’ve. It sounds exactly the kind of oddly specific detail he’d share.

“Okay,” he manages, unable to suppress a smile. “Where exactly did you learn that one?”

“I googled it.” You tilt your head. “Like, I thought food-play might be fun to try with you?” You shrug lightly, expression utterly innocent as if discussing something far less suggestive. “But then all these articles said it can get kinda gross and messy, and honestly, Spencer, I realized you’d probably just stress about germs and clean-up, and there’s no way I’d enjoy it if you weren’t totally relaxed and happy.”

Of all the things he anticipated you might say tonight, casually mentioning food play research was not on the list. It lands like a dropped grenade, exploding into fragments of thoughts he cannot possibly hope to piece together.

His cheeks burn hot as images — sticky and indecent images — flood his mind without permission. Vanilla dripping slowly down your collarbone, lips parted in invitation, eyes sparkling with that innocent curiosity he adores.

But beneath this sudden rush of desire lies something even softer because he can almost see it — your earnest expression as you scroll through webpages, considering all the possible complications, all the ways he might react. 

Spencer’s chest aches in a way he can’t pinpoint, a vulnerability spreading through him that he rarely allows himself to feel. He’s not used to people taking such gentle care of his anxieties, treating his quirks as something precious rather than burdensome. A small, quiet part of him wonders if he deserves this kind of thoughtfulness, this careful, intentional love you offer without hesitation. He wants to believe it, wants to let himself trust it completely, but the tender astonishment that grips him right now makes it hard to think straight.

“You know, angel, next time just come straight to me, okay? I promise my answers are better, and less traumatizing, than whatever you’ll find online.”

“Well, don’t blame me when you start getting texts at two a.m. about my random questions.”

Spencer raises an eyebrow at you. “I think we both know that if my phone goes off at two a.m., you’re probably not looking for statistics.”

You smile at that.

“I mean, yeah, probably,” you concede. “But honestly, Spence, I did read this thing about late-night dopamine spikes or whatever and —,”

He doesn’t think. He can’t think. The moment the car is in park, his body moves on its own, leaning across the console, hands gently cupping your face as he silences your adorable scientific ramble. He’s never felt such urgency, such an intense, overwhelming need to kiss someone as he does right now. It’s impulsive, reckless, completely out of character, and yet he feels no regret. Only relief. Only you.

For once in his analytical life, Spencer lets instinct win, savoring your lips and the small, surprised sound you make against him. He hopes you hear in his kiss everything he can’t yet put into words.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[maneskinwh0re]

modern!sevika x housewife!reader // clueless couple

cw: fluff, loser butch sevy, age gap (if you squint), more fluff

i saw a post that said “holding back the urge to say ‘must’ve been ur other girlfriend’ to my bf” and it gave me the idea to write about saying it to our sev

i imagine modern!sevika is a loser lesbian but also a clueless millennial who thinks she knows everything and then proceeds to get extremely humbled. she’s adorable, your honor.

༺♡༻❀༺♡༻ ༺♡༻❀༺♡༻ ༺♡༻❀༺♡༻

༺♡༻❀༺♡༻ ༺♡༻❀༺♡༻ ༺♡༻❀༺♡༻

slow mornings are your favorite. the windows to your kitchen are swung open, allowing in thin beams of sunlight and fresh air, while the smell of brewed coffee swirls through the room.

standing at the stove, you make breakfast for you and your wife, flipping a second omelette for sevika because she has already finished the first, now nibbling on a banana slice while she waits.

she leans against the counter next to you, eyes squinting at her phone as she tries to scroll through her photos. she moves the device further away, then brings it closer, inches from her face, the brightness of the screen surely not helping her aging eyesight.

“can never figure out this damn thing,” she says with an agitated huff before you look at her stance and giggle. she’s hunched over in a grey tank top and black boxers, large veined hands cradling her cracked phone. her hair is pulled back into a stubby ponytail while small wisps of framed bangs fall against her cheekbones.

“you can’t figure it out because y’ can’t see, mama,” you chuckle as you take the thin glasses atop her head and set them nicely on the bridge of her nose. “that better?”

“oh,” the difference is night and day, you practically see her big eyes refocus with a dumbfounded blink. “yes, much better, hon’.”

and with that, she’s right back to pure eagerness as she tells a story of how she and ran beat the boys over a few poker games, elaborating on how she brought home lots of extra cash last night. while she scrolls to find a specific picture of her winning hand, she pauses for a moment to question her own memory and turns to you.

“wait- have i told y’ this already?”

“hm, no,” you reply, shaking your head as you toss the omelette onto a plate. “must’ve been your other wife.”

your side comment totally sweeps over your butch’s head at first. you give her a moment to nod and continue searching through her phone before she completes a double take — no. a quadruple take with a confused followed by a truly bewildered expression.

“what?” sevika’s head snaps to you for the fourth time, brows furrowed clearly in offense. (reference pic at the top :))

you only hum up at her with expectancy, playing the act of clueless defiance.

“what’d you just say?” she repeats with a ghost of a smile, setting her phone on the counter.

“i didn’t- what?” you dismiss, gripping the handle of the empty pan and moving past sevika to set it in the sink. although she doesn’t let you get away so easily. “nothin’! i don’t know what you’re talking ab-”

with a tight grip on your waist, she yanks you backwards, erupting a squeal from your throat followed by a fit of laughter as you fall against her. her breath tickles your skin as she peppers kisses up and down the side of your neck and shoulder.

“what the hell are y’ on about? my ‘other wife’? you’re insane.”

“oh, so now i’m insane to you? i imagine more insane than your side bride. got it,” you banter as you grip her forearm that holds you close. one of her hands then turns your face up towards her lips. “i guess you’ll just have to tell her that i-”

your words are cut off with a gentle kiss. sevika tastes a mix of morning breath and black coffee, her disheveled self looks and smells in desperate need of a warm shower. but when your wife pulls away with admiration in those big grey eyes, you wouldn’t give any of it up for the world.

not the good, not the bad. for better for worse, in sickness and in health. to love and to cherish.

“shush. i’m yours.”

༺♡༻❀༺♡༻ ༺♡༻❀༺♡༻ ༺♡༻❀༺♡༻

ignore grammar/spelling mistakes 😜 dropping another random fluff bomb then locking back in to my bum ass math classes 🐑💣

also i’m absolutely LOVING all the asks that’s been sent to my inbox, TRUST i see them and will get to them all eventually!! again just super busy with school/family/friend drama recently, all is good tho and always feel free to send requests or just spam meee

stay safe out there divas 💜

-🐝

taglist: @cdbabymp3 @mirconreadzztuff22 @wizard-pdf @archangeldyke-all @nhaaauyen @inthebrainofalamb

[lovebyhyun]

picture

genre : fake texts, fluff, skz hyung line x reader (separately)

synopsis : skz hyung line when you’re obsessed… with a picture of them.

warnings : none! playful banters and pure fluff <3

a/n : keep in mind my requests are open all the time! feel free to slide in whenever you’d like :D

masterlist | maknae line

bang chan

lee minho

seo changbin

hwang hyunjin

[sapphiccup]

Smoking out the window...

Pairing: Stoner Vi x reader

Word count: 23,000 Plus.. I GOT CARRIED AWAY I KNOW I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE SHORTER BUT THE DEMONS! MDNI MYGOD! NSFWAHEAD

Cw: Weed, Strong language, Banter, Fluff, sexual Banter, Tension, Perverts, Lingering eyes, Gay asf, Lesbian yearning/pining, Neck kisses, Rough sexual adventures, High Reader, High Violet, Consent is hot, oral, penetration, intercourse, fingering, Lots of lube was used in this fic,Switch Vi, Switch Reader, Dom Reader, Sub Reader I think? Sub Vi, DomVi, Making out, Lots of foreplay, Anal oral, vaginal oral, anal fingering both receiving 🌟 Tribbing, Starvation smutt, Lots and lots of dirty talking, till night til dawn kinda lust, Backshots to oblivion, Did I say strap already? The gays are fucking on all the furniture oh nooo.. (me next like tf?) , Riding faces, Tongue fucking, Thigh humping, Humping with clothes on, and after care. Tooth rotting fluff IM SORRY!!!! Message me if I missed anything <3

Summary: Chilling at home alone until a certain someone shows up at your door. A bag of weed and a hot lesbian? What could go wrong? You and Vi begin with a simple goal in mind: smoke sesh. Until things start getting more intense. Will Vi and you make it out as friends after this particular smoke session? or become more.. ? let’s find out!

Dc!:@/cafekitsune

Song: Smoke by Victoria Monet ft Lucky Daye🍀

ᥫ᭡

You were sitting on your couch chilling in your apartment listening to your r&b playlist. The music poured into your ears, a woman and a man singing about one of your favorite things to experience. Fuzzied socks on your feet, resting on your oval-shaped coffee table, some scattered decorative clutter to the side of your cute bear designed socks, slightly moving them away from the collected clutter.  Carefully trying to not knock anything over for the tenth time today. You tilt your head back, really getting into those comfy cushions of yours, letting notes of the song carry you into a state of pure white clouds floating into the sky. However a thought gnaws on your wrinkled brain, thinking that these beats would feel even better with some thc in your system. And speaking of the “devil’s grass”

A knock at the door, perks your senses. You groaned as you pushed yourself off of your couch.

This better be good. 

Sauntering your way over to your door, opening it, revealing a Violet holding a bag of weed and that famous smirk of hers. 

Oh, this is good!

The way it stretches her scar on her lip, like it's an invisible spell that blows your way every time. Making you fly higher than any green substance has entered your dna. “So.. I’m growing a new strain..—“ like second nature she takes your hand, thumbing circles over your knuckles “I think you might like this one better.” She says, though not into your eyes, your lips quirking into a smile. You are in luck that she chose to gaze at your knuckles instead so you could peer at her lashes, they remind you of violin strings, with each bat it felt like a personal symphony, fluttering into your ears. This lovely symphony that made those lobes of yours mirror flowers, blooming for her. You’d tug at your hair with a single finger, a strand of hair from opposite sides weep reflecting like a weeping willow tree, to hide them from her.. Can’t let her know you’re bursting with glee inside. 

“Oh yeah? It must be the best if it’s coming out of that mouth.” 

“What do you know about my mouth, babe?” She asked with an arched brow, sprinkled with a playful grin as she entered your house, shutting the door behind her with her foot. 

“Many things..” you respond, taking a step back, watching her take her shoes off, still haven’t broken eye contact. “Mhm—“ her eyes mapped out your body language, more like studying if you’re trying to do other things than just smoke today, from the way you usually get so nervous by her. She just takes it as you trying to be cocky. And she would be right any other day, however this time nervous fails to grab you by its clutches.

“Yeah, go ahead and sit down while I get us ready for this blunt.” You obviously obeyed, but not unless you had some control which prompts you to give her more of a hint, swaying your hips a bit because you know she is always watching. And yes she is completely in a daze watching your ass twitch a bit with every step. You were wearing flared leggings that cupped your ass and especially those curves of yours in all the right ways, and a cute tank top with noodle like straps barely being able to contain those pretty tits of yours. If wills of temptation could shatter, Vi's has hers teetering off the shelf. Blinking twice for her to get back to reality.  You plop back down on the couch, shifting your body around to lay on your stomach, getting a better look of Vi entering your kitchen. Such an obsessed person you are,  though who can blame you with trying to see more of Violet. She knows that she’s sexy and she knows that you know, so she doesn’t even tell you to stop gawking. 

As you watch Vi make the both of you some snacks,  setting up some cups for a couple of drinks for none other than the usual cottonmouth. You absentmindedly play with your nails, joyed that you pampered them this morning.  Of course, this positive thought is only because you’re about to smoke with Vi.. it’s hard prepping blunts with long nails for you. 

“What’s this new strain called?”  You inquire her.

She digs into the fridge, grabbing some condiments, the clicks and clatter of some glass jars bumping into each other, cradling her acquired set up for her preferred sandwiches in her carefully crafted arms. Those same arms that are peaking through her white t-shirt, that isn’t too short or too long over her grey joggers. I guess she wanted to be comfortable today with you being 420 of all days.  But, back to those arms.. they should be illegal to look that damn good, the way you can tell she just got a good pump in before arriving at your house! Those veins, and the way her biceps are so prominent, good gods..  I mean, literally how can someone make muscles look that good and she’s not even doing anything to make them visible right now. She’s simply just making sandwiches, (and you could literally watch all day if you could) but the way she has no choice except to squeeze them a bit or else the items she holds will fall. You wish you were the items instead, headlocked while-

“Noble Pineapple”  she replies, setting down her array of sandwich preparations, breaking you out of a thought that barely had a chance to form. 

“We smokin’ some royal Pineapple kush?” 

“Yes ma’am.”  She answers in a sing-song voice, that has you letting out a small chuckle. “Let me guess you, made up the name this time.” 

“No-no, this was not my idea, I argued with my sister about this for 2 days, and we decided to combine it to stop-“  Vi pauses to stare at you, like you are fully listening to her dumb little rant, and she just bites her lip down. You’re just laying there on the couch, head settled in your cute soft palms, hair messy, still managing to look that good, her heart skipped a beat, cursing in her head that she shouldn’t have shifted her gaze to you. Sitting there all patiently waiting for her, gods.. 

 Every time she stops to look in your eyes it’s like air rips out of her, sending her heart into a frenzy, the curve of your eyes, the color it resembles, the way you’re so focused on her, it makes her jumbled with a highway of fast pasting emotions. Not being able to keep up with only one. 

She just keeps repeating Pretty,Pretty,Pretty, so fucking pretty. In her head like a broken record that refuses to play smooth correct music, in fact you make her vocal cords form into a broken record. The first time she caught onto the fact that your pretty eyes made her flip around her words no matter how hard she tried to be coherent it didn’t matter. Her mouth and her brain refused her to be coherent when she sees you walk on by, or even sharing eye contact. She made a vow to herself to just completely stop talking so you won’t hear her babble. Terrified she’d make a fool of herself in front of you risking to sweep all of this confident spell off of herself. That you see her as. 

“Go on” you encouraged her, and god would she love it if you encouraged her some more, though she would fear her boxers would be drenched if you said it just a bit slower.

She blinks twice again, “uh..-“ her eyes zipped back down to the sandwiches she’s making,” Actually um, do you want pickles or no?” 

“Yes please!” It was as if her heart played hopscotch against her ribcage, skipping to the vibrations of your voice. 

Gods, I wish you would say please more.

You observed Vi open the pickle jar with such ease, the same fucking pickle jar that acts as if it can’t open for you any time of your pleasure, the same fucking pickle jar that you have to use a knife to open back up, without any fight it opened up for her. You frowned a bit at it. To which she caught your now knit brows, letting out a flutter of giggles already knowing why. After a while, she concluded your snack essentials for the awaited munchies later. You move the clutter out the way into a nearby woven basket. And Vi setting down both assorted snacks from sandwiches, to a bowl of strawberries, two glasses of kiwi strawberry drinks, and two water bottles (like duh? All that sugar needs to be drowned out of the both of you) on that very coffee table. 

Before sitting down she grabs her grinder out of her pocket, it’s one of those cute customized grinders, with Jinx’s signature monkey on it. They’re quite known around here, no need to help advertise when Jinx is tagging the city buildings. The two sisters have created a successful business in the art of cannabis, not because they have to, no, because they both like to! They love to have fun and to spread that fun around with their trusted customers, especially you. You’ve been a loyal customer since college, first it was strictly professional, yet you and Vi just kept seeing each other throughout the city, you saw each other so much that you both decided together that you might as well just get to know eachother better. To a point where you both became really good friends. 

Maybe even.. a bit too good of friends..

Sometimes the both of you do this back and forth of teasing, although as of lately that teasing has become a little more than Vi can handle. At first it was all fun and games, however Vi began to dive into your psyche, picking up on your habits, and even mirroring some slang you use on a daily basis. Whatever you were doing it was as if you injected something in her that has her thinking about you more than usual. It was as if you both were partners that never really solidified a title, never had sex, and definitely high levels of sexual tension. Not even a situationship, because there's no situation happening except that this quality time of yours has been.. appreciated.  You both didn’t even dare to get physical, except for little touches here and there, such as hands, and a hug every time she leaves your place or when you both finish spending time with each other outside, going your separate ways. 

If anything the most R-rated intimate thing you both do is eye fuck each other to oblivion until it’s time to go. (Ah, the famous sapphic trope)

She takes a seat next to you on the couch, grunting as she gets comfortable. Your eyes follow her handsome hands as they prep the bunches of weed for the both of you to enjoy. “You know people usually already have the weed, already broken down for a smoke sesh” you comment, still not breaking eye contact of those marbled hands of hers. 

“We’re not usual people, and.. you love this part, the way I handle weed so carefully.” She taunted, stirring emotions inside of you to all gather into your ears, making them hot to the touch. She was right, you absolutely loved this part. She began to grind the weed up, flexing her arms, and you hypothetically drooling at her veins bulging with each grind. Certainly you aren’t the only one drooling. Vi could smell your consistent perfume, it was like aromatherapy for her, wishing it mixed around with her cologne.  

Truly the real reason why she didn’t prep the weed: she needs something to distract herself and an excuse to spend more time with you. With anyone else she would have the joints already packed and secured ready to smoke. With you— that’s not an option. To get high with you so fast, would expand her initial emotions upon arriving at your house. She knows this by heart, when you get high, whatever emotion you have at the start will take over. And the kaleidoscope of more hidden feelings arises, heart beating fast, being able to heightened your senses, to feel another one's energy. Being high is no joke, and being high with you isn’t a soft giggle. It’s quite the opposite…

“Hand me that tray for me” she orders, prompting your brows to knit together with sour, removing your orbs from her hands to the corner of her eye. She could feel you getting tense, pitter pattering her hand away from herself to you instead, inching closer and closer. Trying to regain some playful energy back by playing with one of your thumbs. However, your eyes favored the back of your head, then towards the floor, flicking your thumb at her hand, ripping that playful shield off because of your little attitude. If you were Violet’s girlfriend she’d fix it real quick like how she usually deals with other girls' attitudes, only if you’re willing for it to be fixed of course. 

She’s not the person that cut you, so you bled on her on your part. Luckily,  Violet already knows how to evade that bloodshed that you’ve begun to splatter subconsciously. 

“I don’t like your tone” 

“Oh really, seems like to me you’ve been squeezing your thighs since I let those 6 words out my mouth. Pretty sure that tells me you like my tone, princess.” She countered swiftly. You tilted your head, deadpaning her, until you light bulbed a thought to throw back at her “Sounds like you’re interested, got a thigh fetish, Vi?” 

Her blue powdered eyes cuts right to you as soon as those words fell from your lips, targeting right to your collarbone. She moistens her lips with a quick swipe of her tongue, blinking twice to escape another lustful loss(who’s really losing here though?) “Do you?” she asks right back. Did not expect that one from you… fuck..

“Maybe?” 

You grab the tray, sliding it over to her on her thigh. 

“Maybe not?” 

“Should I be worried?” She queried, pulling the tray closer into her thighs, your eyes taking note of her shaky hand, a slew of thoughts set off in your head however one in particular stays in place, are her ears red? You check, and yes they are..  your heart drums harder against its natural cage, your breath a little harder to keep at its normal pace from the sight. Maybe nervous actually will have you in its clutches?

“—Possibly” 

She takes a sharp breath, bubbling up some words to respond to you, anything, “Damn, princess laying it on thick today..”  

 gods, I might actually just say fuck the smoke sesh and let her do whatever she wants to me.. 

Violet takes a kitten bite of her bottom lip, dragging those teeth across it, soothing it with a lick at the dents, finding herself bouncing her leg but only an ant size bit not enough to tip the tray over.

“Am I making you uncomfortable, Violet?” 

“Uh, n-no. I’m good. I’m more than good. You know I don’t mind this little back and forth” 

“‘Never made me uncomfortable” she continued, combining her fingers through her dyed hair, stealing a glance of you, your lip gloss shined so perfectly, you sat with one leg under you and the other hanging off the couch, you arms were squeezing those ti-

Tits? Holy shit, her shirt is really loose today.. o-okay.. I got this. Everything is going to be okay. Just don’t be fucking weird. 

“Good, I don’t like making my favorite person upset” 

“Awe, you care about me? So sweet”  her voice jaunty, giving you a moonlit smile, twinkling your way, pulling your heartstrings, causing another rapid beat to rattle.

You nudged her arm in a jestering manner, yet those lines connected to your mouth danced upwards effortlessly, beaming a soft sunkissed smile. She hands you the tobacco leaf, waiting for you to grab and you stare down at it with a puzzled look, arching your brow. 

“Wet it for me?” As soon as she said that you hated that she was right, you did squeeze your thighs. Hearing that.. dammit. Not only that but she caught it, you saw her eyes drift to your legs for only a second, and only a second you needed before snatching it out of her hands and quickly into the bathroom. 

Gods, am I wet?

You checked to see if you were leaking through your pants, touching your lips with care. You felt that familiar slick through your clothes, making a tiny wet patch(it couldn’t compare to what was really going on if you opened your lips, oh how the locked dam wished it was opened by a certain pink wet muscle). It dawned upon you though, a weight that slugged you right in the jaw. You’re not wearing any panties today. You didn’t expect Vi to just show up (not like you’re complaining though) only.. no panties?! 

You’ve always gotten wet by just her voice alone, but it usually only damages your panties. Now, you’re in uncharted territory.. you know you and Vi only do this for fun. Otherwise if she were to see you like this.. well you’d hate the fun to be over with just like that.. 

Fuck, do something to take this all away! Turn yourself off for Jannas sake! I cannot deal with this right now… 

“Did you know whales have 12 inch dicks?” You inquired her, your voice laced with tiny panic, echoing from the bathroom. Turning the water on afterwards, wetting the leaf as she asked earlier.

“Haha! W-What?!  Do I wanna know how you know that?” 

You grip your free hand on the counter of your sink, taking a deep breath. Trying to calm down, slowing your heart, but as soon as you came back, the chasing waterfalls were rainbowed to continue as you laid eyes on Vi, she was man-spreading her legs waiting for you to hand her the leaf. You know what happens after you hand her that leaf, you know  that this was what you were really waiting for… your favorite part with a smoke session with Vi, now becoming your worst nightmare..

Dammit I can’t change.. it’s gonna look too suspicious.. it’s one thing if I were to change because it’s too hot or cold but no one just ‘changes’ their pants! 

You hand her back the backwood leaf, stepping forward, your hand trembling, slightly touching her cold hands, sending shivers down your back. 

“Girl, if you do not sit down. You’re acting all scared, I won’t bite you” 

“S-Shut up”  you said with a pout, taking your seat right to back next to her, circling your middle finger on your knee. Vi began sprinkling a bit of thc magic in the brown leaf, meticulously about how big she wants to make it, which prompts her to ask a random question relating to the subject before.. 

“You got a thing for long dicks, princess?” 

“Yeah, so?” 

“From an animal?” 

“Are you an animal Violet?” 

“I fuck like one—“ Vi wanted to bite her tongue right then and there. Now why would she say that? I wonder why? Has she been thinking about such lewd things  since you mentioned dick? Or has she buckled dirty jokes in her belt? She paused her actions, and you blinked twice, leaning in a bit towards her. 

“Excuse me..? Wha- what was that?” She could hear your smile in your voice, and it only made her wanna jump into a fissure without parkouring this time.

“Nothing.. you didn’t hear that.”  She answers, proceeding her previous actions, and not fucking it up with you. She bit the inside of her cheek, punishing herself. Hopefully you let that go and never bring it up again.. which is quite doubtful. You swirl your tongue in your cheek before speaking again, “And no I don’t prefer beastiality, thank you very much.” You saying that relieved some much needed ice breaking, melting her off again, laughs fell from her uneven lips, “ Yeah? Good, glad to know.”  

The r&b playlist is over and continues to your rock playlist, you can tell Violet favors your music taste, with her subtle body movements, mimicking the beat with the tap of her foot, or the bop of her head. As she rolled, tuck, and shifted the weed in place, she’d sing a lyric quietly to herself before nearing that blunt to her lips. 

“Focused on me?” 

“Absolutely” you responded, closing your porcelain gates on your supple bottom lip.

“Good girl..”  she praised, sealing it with a lick of her pink tongue, the brown leaf finally ready and full of your favorite color. And just like that, your body quickly was hot all over, whipping your head to a wall opposite of Vi’s face. 

“O-Oh my god, never mind! I’m gonna throw myself off of a cliff “ your pitch shakey, and heightened, no mistake your heart was accepting this tune more ways than one, whereas your mind was boggled with panic. You didn’t know what to do with yourself. She’s never gone this far.. not even to get a good laugh— it was exhilarating. 

“Whaat?—I thought we were laying it on thick today” a hint of mischief coloring her tone, her eyes darting around your face, just seeing you so distraught, so distracted, so deliciously filled with steam all over your body. If she didn’t know any better she’d mistaken you for an iron right now. Witnessing you change like a chameleon in the wild, she let out a pfft from her lips, then bubbles of laughter came out of her, and you simply joined in, pink sugary giggles of joy filling the air. Like a thief you stole a peek of her laughing, her eyes closed, and nosed scrunched. 

She’s so hot.. How can someone look hot while laughing?! It’s too good to be true.

“Noooooo, I can’t” you claimed, a strained whine drowned in your words, you’d cover your face, trying to hide from her. She took note of you hiding, like a babe in the wild, finding it so adorable, seeing you get all shy just for her. 

“You can’t what?” 

“I—“ you take a breath “you’re annoying” 

“Awe, such a baby. Such a big baby, hm?” 

Holding the blunt between her lips, lighting it with a flick of her zippo lighter, which also has a Jinx signature design on it. She’s such a good big sister, not only supporting her sister's art, but also encouraging her to make personalized lighters for their shared business. It makes you think back of how many times she’s cheered you on, or simply helped you out with your big move from your parents house. You slowly moved your palms back to your lap, scooting a bit closer to her. You wanted to get her back for that comment. If she was going to go all in like that then—

“I’m always a good girl for you” 

And that comment makes her whole body jerk. Almost letting the joint fall from her lips, catching it with thinning her lips. She’d raise her hand to it, taking it out her mouth, whipping her head towards you, seeing a devilish smile plastered on your face. You were definitely the one with horns and tail right now, no mistaking it.

“Holy shit… and I’m annoying?” 

“Ah, youre blushi—ing I see it” 

“Who wouldn’t blush if you said something like that?!”  

Thank Janna, I didn’t just take a puff just now.. whew, girl trying to kill me.

She took a long drag of the joint, getting a good enough cloud in her system. Handing it to you. A little fire work in your fingertips, burning both of your worries away, a rotational celebration together. You can taste the strawberry mint gum she had before getting here, inhaling in her sweetness of a drag puffing a cloud out from your lips, passing it back to her. You’d cover your mouth, feeling a cough trying to make its way. 

“Damn this nobel—“ you cough again “what the fuck Vi? How the fuck— wow..” 

“Yeah you’re going to get high as fuck with this one, I think I perfected my green thumb.” Taking another drag of this sweet tree, tasting your lipgloss on it, usually she’d hate this from another, however you, delighted, rubbing her lips together getting it all over her mouth. Messy.., messy, messy, didn’t care and would do it again.

ᥫ᭡

After a few hours of rolling blunts back to back between the both of you, eyes hazy, and dugged into a few of your snacks, sharing old war stories with each other. You were sitting on your fluffy rug, telling her one of your personal stories, from when you were young. She doubled over in laughter, shaking with merriment, almost falling off the couch, with drops of tears in the corners of her rounds.

“No— - fucking way you said that in highschool, for the goodnews introduction!” Another laugh spilled from her lips.

“Okay listen, I didn’t say that for good news but I definitely did add to the conversation” 

“Babe, that’s the same the thing” 

“No it’s not” 

“Totally different, it was adding to conversation, mind you I got detention for spreading awareness for that news” you added, a smirk scrimping at your cheeks.

“Oh my gods,..”  she spoke with a sigh, wiping a tear away. 

“The situation is serious as fuck but the way you’re saying it is killing me” 

“I’m being deadass” you responded, shaking her thigh. 

“I know with your straight facing ass that’s why it’s funny, stupid” she said leaning towards you flicking your forehead,  you let out a little whine, receiving a dopey grin from Vi. You held your forehead, pouting at her, she went in for another flick because you started pouting finding your lil whines funny in her fuzzy head state. You got up from the floor swiftly grabbing her wrist pinning them above her head, the clouds of green swirling in your head got you feeling like you could conquer most things you couldn’t before.

“Try flicking me now, asshole” 

“You do realize, I’m stronger than you right?” 

“Have a lil faith” you responded with a shrug, Vi’s non-sobered brain not catching up to the fact that you’re extremely close to her.. it takes a minute but it gets there, and she is gradually turning red. Your tits were basically in her face, close as a kiss. Her breath became more shallow, her heart raced harder than the weed was doing her, taking a big gulp from the lewd sight. She needed to get you off of her right now, this was a line that she was not ready to cross with you, unless reciprocated. She tried moving her wrist away from you yet, the more she struggled the more you giggled and the more your two twins jiggled.

Fucking Janna, I’m gonna die like this, I’m gonna die from losing my absolute shit right now!  Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!

“Off, off, off!! I swear to the gods I will flip you on this couch right now” 

“Do it, pussy”  

And so she did. 

ᥫ᭡

You stared up at her, and she down at you, 

“Well hello” 

“Still pussy?” 

The realization struck a chord, your heart was drumming up something fierce, you were petrified that she could hear your beats. Personal notes, personal vowels, personal rattles of your heart telling her out loud that you have a cr— something you fear you might have an inkling of l—-

“Y-you know what, you—are like.. Jack frost” you said in a daze, your lip quivering, oh yeah nervous had you captured alright, captured and under a really strong Violet. You had to say something, not only to distract yourself but to distract her. 

“Ho-haha- no fucking way you just said that to me?”

 No, like seriously, right now of all times? Hands above your head, gripped in her calloused hands, not moving, only inches away from each other. To a point where you could most definitely can count and see her white glimmering teeth, even the natural K9’s she has. The same K9’s she so desperately wants to drag down on your neck. Her strong jawline, that is to die for.. Not to mention her knee is slotted between your legs, nearing your wet spot might I add, actually this is perfect, distract her you fool!

“I give you that vibe?”   Her voice drips out like it’s the first oasis you ever drank from. Your body heat is radiating off of yourself sinking its fangs into her, yet cold hands grip onto yours. 

“Yes, I genuinely think you’re jack frost coded” you try again, but it’s too late. No one is distracted, this is it.

“You’re so fuckin high..”  your eyes burned for her, and hers towering over you, succumbing to those flames that you've set, the heat you wrapped her in, capturing whatever it could catch, and for once Vi was ready. Ready to be set ablaze by your warmth, and those eyes, comforting her cold body. She wanted to melt into you.

your hand moved on its own, and without protest of her icey ones, you were allowed one free hand. You reached for hers above your head only leaving a single one with your captured palm. Guiding her to your stomach. 

“Y-you, what’re you…”  her powdered blues searched yours, looking for a sign of any doubt, and there was none, just pure determination. She took a long audible gulp, and you investigated her eyes for any hint of fear, or beyond the line of this boundary, and none was there.

“What?” You questioned softly, voice oozing with desire. You flatten her hand on your stomach, another gulp down her throat. Her breath, rigid. 

She’s so warm..

Her eyes became dark, an abyss full of want, full of images of you in different positions right now. You gave her a signature move that you are quite acquainted with, staring into her left eye, then right, and her lips. 

Oh no she did not just.. oh yeah this is dangerous.. this is.. fuck..

You swiped your tongue across your bottom lip, powder blues following it as it traced its steps back inside of your mouth. Now locked on your collar bone, dragging her teeth on her bottom lip. 

“Hey..” 

“Hey..” 

Both of your eyes low lidded, taking in your energies swirling each other in. A line the both of you are at, tip toeing closer than ever, for the first time ever, you both might actually—

The phone rang, Violet's phone, knocking you both out of your daze and back to reality. It kept ringing.. Violet dipped her head in defeat, hair tickling your lips, a tiny snicker coming out of you. You spotted red ears, in her ‘sulken state’ 

“Fuck, can you..I’m sorry”  She apologized, she shifted her weight off of you, getting up gradually, not really wanting to remove herself off of you, sitting back across from you. And you sat right back up, fidgeting with your hair.

“No, no.. it’s okay I.. give me a second I need to freshen up anyway, my hair is a mess moving around so much” you claimed, pushing yourself off the couch.

“I think you look fine” 

“Yeah? Well I think I could use a little touch up..” 

“Mkay, don’t take long I’m rolling the next one after this call” 

“No I got it this time, you rolled plenty” 

ᥫ᭡

You sat on the counter of your sink, splashing some water on you to sober up, of course it only sobers a bit of you. You’re kinda glad things stopped where they were. You want to make sure the both of you are at least a bit sober before deciding to go that far. You truly  do not want either of you feeling disgusting after stepping over a line that many dare to cross. And she  the same. As she talked on the phone barely paying attention to the conversation, thinking is this okay? Should you guys cross this line? And coming to resolve she confidently decided it wasn’t right.

You finish and come back out, gloss reapplied, eye liner redone, and calm. You sat on the floor again and grabbed a wrapper, her eyes watching you as you opened it. Noticing it had too many stems in it, sucking your teeth, you got back up and threw it away, Vi still not taking her eyes off of you watching your ass move like water in those flared leggings, her eyes venturing off, noticing something different.. noticing a wet patch near your pussy. 

Oh shit.. oh.. 

“Hey I’ll call you back okay?” 

ᥫ᭡

You both sat across from each other, Vi figured you should talk real quick. And you agreed, something needed to be discussed. 

“I know we usually just fuck around but, right there on that couch—“ 

“I know, it was intense,” you admitted, fiddling with your fingers.

“Do you actually want to?” She needed to hear you confirm this, she must hear you say the words, the green light or red light to both of your future endeavors 

“Yeah..”  and as soon as you said that, fireworks erupted from inside her, thankful that the feelings were shared.

“Okay, well, just so you know, haha—‘feelings mutual..”  trying to play it cool. But now is not the time to only celebrate, now it’s time to lay down some necessary values. And this can make or break for some, but for Violet she wants this to be a subject of high priority.

“I just want to be— sober, and I feel like you should too cause I’m not gonna touch you in those places unless you are fully sure and.. coherent. I mean— - l-like if you wanted to have high sex with me I’d like that to be voiced first while you're sober before, yeah. You know?” 

“Of course yeah, I actually appreciate that so much.. We…never done this before. Shifting into a new space between each other. I-I fully agree we should definitely be sober before doing anything— beyond that” 

“I mean— we- we can still do other stuff until we're both sober” 

“Mmmm, like what Lanes?” 

“I dunno, talk? Don’t mind hearing your voice too long” she said with a big stretch of her arms. You pondered on that statement, talking would be nice, maybe.. trying to get closer would be nice to and so you say-

“Tell me what you like since we got plenty of time” you told her, and a sly smile was offered to you.

Starting off in tricky waters the both of you guided each other in this boat of unknown seas, it was rocky at first, then smooth sailing helped guide you as the wind blew gently into the sail of the experience and ignorance. You got to know her better on a sexual level and seeing her a little nervous made you tinker your bell of laughter. Vi was getting a little more cocky with her words of what she gets into, takes the golden dust off of you and back to a blooming mess. And for you, she listened to you, focused on every word that fell from your lips. She’s heard you say inappropriatiacy before, though not like this, her eyes widened like saucers, shocked that you're into something more rough,  gentle, things that she hasn’t explored yet. 

You were like a present wrapped in pretty cutesie designs with a leather bow on top for her. 

She eventually sat down on the floor with you as both talked about past experiences of your likes and dislikes, melting off that pressure from each other no longer sculpted icicles, now a pools of serenes. 

You laughed, placing a hand on her, grazing your fingers tips on her chest pulling your hand back towards you, her eyes following them back away. She effortlessly reached for your hand holding it, putting both of your hands on her warm lap, back to your eyes admiring you, finally feeling less anxious to stare deep into you.  The way she could tell that you lived such a happy life, your smile lines peeking through with every joke she’d tell you, every little angered brow you’d make when she teased something about you, poking those wrinkles away. The way she could make you easily flustered, she was fallin’ deep for you in this moment. And you, being so close to her, being able to eye her body language, her biting her finger tip, squinting her eyes, with her smile that resembled seeing the first day of spring again. You were both now well beyond unknown islands, explored your forests, your seasons, and finally felt a little more daring.

“Is this seat taken?”  You questioned, with that small shy smirk of yours, scooting closer to her,  Vi stared down at you and damn.. you really are a gift to see up close.

“Mm.. huh?” 

“Is this-“ you tap her clothed leg, “seat, taken?” Violet eyes dilated so quick from the way you asked her, as direct as you can be. 

“My lap?” 

“Yeah?” 

She leaned back palms that were flat, now fingers gripping your rug,  shaking her head no, and you plopped your plush ass on her, slotted right in between her thighs, nearing her crotch so close. After a while she gets comfortable with you on her lap as if it’s natural to be like this with you, moving her hand to your hip, thumbling your side.

“You know, when you said I’m like Jack frost, which was completely outta of nowhere” you gave her a quick pap on her chest, her snickering from your bashfulness 

“Stop playing with me, I was high, okay?” You rolled your eyes, paired with a thin lipped smile.

“Well if I’m Jack frost, then you must be the tooth fairy” 

“Really?— What about me gives the tooth fairy?” you asked, with a playful offended hand on your chest.

“You have all these little facts in that head of yours— - you talk really fast when you’re being bossy, you really like getting up—“ she leaned into your face “ real close to me at times, like this..and they had a little chemistry going on.”  

“Oh is that what this is?” 

“Is that what you want?”

You stare intensely into each other's eyes , you nodded without a word. Your hand finds its way by her ear, tracing little hearts on her cold silver piercing, her ear wiggles a bit with each brush. Violet bites the insides of her cheek trying to hold back her laugh, and you just find it cute that her ears are so sensitive. Your sun beam light lifted the roses from her body in full bloom, and her moonlit shine rose your h2o with ease, not just between your lips but your body felt gravity go from grounded to zero, bringing you both to finally do what suns and moons do best. A rarity that only some can see in once of a lifetime, she raised her hand to yours, fiddling around with your fingers until the both of you pressed against each other palms, eclipsing each other with such tenderness. 

“You’re beautiful..” she confessed 

“Huh, no I’m not..” you rejected her compliment, a slight shadow crippled like a mirror, you never told her you didn’t find yourself pretty, beautiful no less. She cups your cheek into her palm

“That breaks my soul that you don’t know..” 

Your eyes dilate, sharing a long gaze in her natural powder blues, your lips find themselves moving again “do you really.. think..”  She would love to be the one to remind you every day that no matter what, the form you take, the colors you’ve painted in her murals of life will never fade, will never escape, and always be found again and again, your colors that you splatter on her world could never be mistaken as for anything less than beauty. 

“You’re the definition of beauty, princess.. I promise you that.” 

You really want to kiss her right now, but you want to respect her boundaries, checking in within yourself if you are not mistaking cloud nine in the midst of green clouds. You were absolutely sure, it was clear. And so—

“Sober?”  You ask her

“Sober enough to know I want you” Vi replied,Her hands caress your neck, feeling the short hairs twine with her brisk fingers. Her other tracing your jaw. Vi basked in stretched out time for your lovely eyes, then traveled down to your glossed lips, begging to be kissed. She inched closer to you, your eyes came to a close.

“Been wanting to do this since I walked in here” she said before, finally closing that gap between you both. A quick peck, before you pulled away.  

“again” Vi tells you, eyes dark, pulling you in like a black hole.

You peck at her lips again. Now you’re just teasing her, a tiny evil smile perks on your lips.

“Again, rougher—- don’t hold back”  she demanded, and you submit to her orders this time. You moved, slicing the distance in half, your arms finding purchase around her neck, tilting your head, and gluing it all with a gentle kiss. Soon gentleness was thrown out the window the more that hunger festered inside, together like a storm, thundering, lightning electrifying that same kiss. Vi didn’t expect your lips to have her so out of place, her brows furrowed with confusion, on why this kiss felt so different from the many she has with different women. She let out satisfied hums between the perfectly locked lips, like two puzzle pieces that were lost in a box and the other had to be searched for years later before fitting each other. Frustrations, tensions, and long awaited touches, felt all the while through kissing, she nipped at your bottom lip like a curse for waiting this long. And you, licking her top, like an apology. Your lips were so soft, so enriched with flavor, sticky, it didn’t matter, she pulled you closer to her, whimpering for more. 

You could feel her scar tickling your sensitive lips, only making you let out more lewd whines. Your body felt as though you were going to meet the gods themselves from how good she’s making you feel, with only just kisses. Bodies pulsating, hearts beating in tandem, a deep groan in agreement that this kiss was long overdue, feeling the vibrations from her body, pooling another wet and hot mess in your leggings. Your hands begun moving, feeling her veins in her neck, fingers in search of her hair, pulling it as the kiss got more tantalizing. A high pitched mewl coming out of Vi. 

Oh, so you have a thing for hair pulling, I can work with that.

Her hand that was once exploring your jaw, now finding itself new temptations, slightly gripping your neck, your eyelids fluttering at the touch, tickling strings of moans into her mouth, and boy was she delighted to know that, she is going to have fun with you. 

“S-So good” she lets out

“Wanna leave you breathless..”  you said between breaths

“Make me then..” 

You chase each other like you’re both dopamine  like a fever dream, wanting more and more of each other. Such a greedy mess you both are. She slips her tongue in, and gods this is even better. Her hand lays upon your hip, soft and plushy, and grips it in her hand, getting a fullfist of your inuinal crease. It surprises you so you yelp, and that surprises her, both of you getting carried away with positions, toppling over one another. Still not taking a break from kissing, even though now you both have fallen with a giggling Violet on top of you, and you a chuckling mess below. Inhaling a sharp breath as her hand makes way, down to the fat of your thigh, taking big squeezes of you. She can’t believe that she gets to touch you like this, fully going crazy in her mind that you feel so good, you taste so good, you are so good.  

Wrapping a leg around her waist pulling her in, and her humming a cute tune of blissful mhm’s in your mouth. You pulled away, panting in tandem, like a hot summer's day,  you felt as though you were up above beyond words that compare. Vi gazed at your eyes, then those now swollen lips, and damn was she entranced. 

“Fuck, didn’t know you could taste like that” 

“Probably gives you a good idea of how much you’re missing down there”  

“Oh is it now?”  She says, now sitting on her brawny forelegs, you loosen your thighs grip a bit for her. Watching her as she takes off her shirt, revealing a pink sports bra, and good gods, those abs, might as well pull up a pink coffin and fucking pass out ‘cause those are to die for.  Those 8 prominent ridges, going bump, bump, bump, bump, down to her V line… eyeing that part for longer than a beat. Which gives you a bit of insight that those peeking carpets might fully match just like the drapes. Then flick back to her eyes, something’s different, before they matched a morning blue sky, but now, they matched midnight.. 

She pulls you back by the wrist into her chest, holding you by the small of your back, peppering kissing on your cheeks and your neck, you beamed another smile, and she kissed that too, and you kissed her back, chuckling away with each other. 

“Damn, I.. I really can’t believe—” 

“What?” 

“You really don’t know how beautiful you are, genuinely. You are amazing.” 

“Oh stop” you said as you strip your top off.

“No seriously, I’m— 

Revealing a light blue lacey bra that did not hide those perky nips of arousal. It was the organza that showed them perfectly, spinning Violet's head around like a carousel.

“—astonished” 

“You’re not bad yourself”  You start, 

“I mean beyond the sex appeal. You really are charming, like.. extremely exquisite. I wish.. I could—“

You heart beat, time slowed, you could hear it in your ears, it was like a beat unknown to you, or maybe familiar… 

“You could, what?” She asks, her eyes again, taking you somewhere else, putting a pause on life itself.. 

Am I fa.. oh.. I am.. I definitely am..

“I want to make a personal word for you, because you’re more than just pretty, Violet” you answer, eyes averting her gaze, heat rising to your face.  She cupped your left cheek, and your eyes found their way to those blues again, her face was beat red, yet she smiled, staring at you like you're the most gorgeous person on earth. (Which you are like duh)  the air becomes light again, both breaths, both chests rise and dive. She lifts her hand near your bosom, taking a quick glance at you if it’s okay, and you nod. She grazed her thumb against your nipple, you inhaled another sharp breath, then slowly back to rise and fall. The more she circled, the more your legs clenched. She still remembers there's a wet patch between those legs, an oasis that she’d like to drink from as soon as possible.. 

“Let’s get you out of these, yeah?”  you replied silently with a little mhm coming out of you, helping her slip off your flared leggings with repose. Legs on obverse sides of her body. She was the opposite of disappointment seeing that you had no panties on, yet amazed with how much has been going on down there. Her eyebrows raised, huffing out a laugh, “You’re up next, joker” rolling her eyes, however those ear tips of hers are more pink than her hair now.  She threw your leggings behind the couch.  She unclipped your bra with one hand, slipping it off swiftly and throwing that pair in the same place as your pants, keeping them both with clothed company, and most likely forgotten until.. well who knows how long you’ll both be busy for——

-Read your diary by Maneskine 🧠💄

The way her tits sat in her bra, I like those very much.. I want to..your mind drifted off wondering how her breast felt? Would she like to be touched there? And a strike of memory does hit you, she mentioned she does have sensitive breast. So you sat up, prickling at the curiosity, staring hard at her pink sports bra. 

“You wanna feel em’?”  You couldn’t even say it out loud, giving her an eager nod, and she captured your hand, leading you to what your eyes set on that allures your desires. You cup her breast, and they’re so..  impressive, soft and pillowy. Your mouth was in despair of a drought, needing to taste something of her. And those tits were exactly what called your palate. However, you wanna take your time with someone like this.. you want her to remember you and you remember her.  You moved into her neck, lip tracing her pulse points, noisey shlicks coming from your lips coming into contact with her neck. 

“Mm.. fuck”  words falling from her lips, the way she just moaned fuck for you, buzzing in your ears, stroking your growing ego. You tongue swirls against her freckled skin, her breath slowing, moving your hand that cups her breast, slipping it inside her bra, circling a finger on her pebbled nipple. 

“Mmhm, you like that don’t you..” you comment, voice seasoned with cockiness. Vi, hands migrating to your bare back, taking rough, and smooth touches of your blades, your spine, and reaching down to the pierced dimples of your arse. She gulps, feeling the cold metals, she's never come across a person with something like this, so excuse her for her curiosity but that mind of hers is going wild with dangerous thoughts. She wanted to bend you over on that armrest right now.. just to get a better look at those piercings.  

She let out a satisfied groan, as you bit her neck, pulling her back out of those thoughts and what you’re doing to her in the presence. Lollying her head back, fluttering those violin strings, causing her to grip a piece of your ass. You bit harder from the pleasure of her grip, which prompted her to spread your cheek, stretching your pulsating hole, letting out another grunt, and holy fuck, you loved her strong hands stretching it like that. You needed her to pound those fingers inside of you, you were starving for it.

“Take this off” you adjured, snapping her bra back in place. That sting, any other time she’d tell someone to fuck off with that, but you, something about you made her want to listen like a good girl. She slipped off her bra throwing it somewhere aimlessly, revealing an arrow shaped piercing on her right nipple. It was vital that you sucked that one immediately.

“Why only one?” You questioned, and she just shrugged, you licked the bottom of your lip, nearing the right of her breast. Pink, pink, pink, damn does she love pink, wonder if she admires her pink nipples too, huh.. Flicking your tongue on the center, she jerked up, inhaling sharp breaths with each flick, while massaging that piece of ass she still was gripping. And gods was it making you flood over, body in full depths of lust. “S’fine, need you..” she moaned quietly. You wrapped your lips around that pink nipple of hers and got to work. Her hips stuttered, pleading to fuck you like this, but she’s a good girl, so she’ll wait and wants you to have your fun.  Licking and suckling her nipple like it's the missing oasis, spit dripping down her perfectly painted canvas of a body.  The metals clicked and clattered  against your teeth, turning her on even more. Sounds like asmr the way you are delighted to lick her up. Feeling how your tongue can do many tricks, tricks that she isn’t even familiar with, melting her into your hot sun rays of a mouth. She’s biting back so many moans, she can’t let you know that only a bit of nipple play has her mind going to mush. Your fingers carefully grazing her happy trail and dammit she can’t hold back anymore.  Releasing her teased nipple woth a pop.

“Ahng, please, please!” 

“Please what, baby?” You quizzed, kissing her swollen nipple, staring up at her eyes.  You are so fucking sexy, those eyes said let me show you how you can feel good.  You were curious of course, you were down right full of bundles of thoughts all coming back to sound exactly alike: what else ticks her brain..? 

“Touch me, feel me..” 

“Where? Tell me where to go, Violet”  you told her voice coming out soft, sultry, drunk on your cloud like tone, she grasped onto your hands putting the both of them on different sides of her grey joggers, words fail her, she can’t bring herself to say it outloud, and you don’t force her to either. “lie down for me, pretty”, and so she did, lifting her legs up as you took her joggers off nice and slow, and just like a present, you were able to witness a sight to behold, as if Achelous decided to visit her and bless you with another river of elation waters. Those black boxers were done for.. all from a bit of titty play. Maybe even more before that? Your fingertips graze the rough edge of her boxers, biting her lip with anticipation. Though, you didn’t take off her boxers.. not just yet. You gradually made way to her puffed lips, that were obviously  being tortured in such a wet mess of clothing.. pressing lightly of her bundle of nerves, on instinct she grabbed your wrist, her breath came out shakey and weak, making your eyes travel to hers,  she was slacked jawed, looking needy, and begging to be fucked. You enjoyed how wet she was under those black boxers, like a sensory toy for you, you could do this for hours if you wanted, and she’d let you, she’d beg, being on the brink of tears for you to eat her out. Though, she’d let you do just that, she trusts that you could make her feel good even through something as that.. torturing her cunt from not giving her your mouth right away. Fuck.. just thinking about it has her clenching her thighs togerther, then releasing again for you to keep touching her. 

“I know you want it, I know.. but you’re just gonna have to be good for me, Violet. Can you be good for me?” 

She released her hand from you, combing her fingers through her head, letting out a whimpered mhm, “need your mouth so bad” she urged, 

You went back to your mission though, massaging her lips through her drowned clothed pussy, she rolled her hips with so much want, rolling to your rhythm, chasing your touch. She covered her face with both palms as you and her did this, so cute, so shy.  Not letting you see how pathetic she can really look like as you tease her cunt. 

“Mm, look at her, crying out for more. It feels good, doesn’t it, baby?” 

“Y-yesh..” she answered, hips jerking up as you near her clitoris again, she needed you badly. So, so bad. Yet, she can’t lie— she loves the way you're taking your time.  Like you really want her to know how much you’ve been wanting her, not rushing a thing. You reach back up to the lining of her boxers once more, gripping them with your index fingers.

“Up, baby” you told her, she complied with a saturated groan,  slipping them off down to her legs, tossing them to the side. You laid down next to her.  She was still not removing her hands from her face, leaving her large nose peeking through. 

So cute..

“Hey, Vi.. can you look at me?” 

She slowly uncovered her face, seeing your face,  taking in the air that rips from her when she lays eyes down at you. Her hair somewhat sticking to her forehead, you wanted to kiss that too. 

“There she is.. my good girl.”  And there goes another Niagara falls down her legs. Goosebumps prickled the back of her neck hearing you say that. ‘My good girl’ she repeated it in her head over and over, ah, she but the inside of her cheek, fighting back her overwhelming excitement. 

Keep it cool… keep it cool.. do not over do it. She just called you that because of the mood. Don’t read into it…

“You’re such an ass hole..but yeah, I’m your good girl.”  Yet, she let it out regardless, and checked if you were upset that she referred to herself as that, instead you were ecstatic to hear her affirm it, though…You slapped her cunt for that ‘asshole comment’ not letting that go and she let out such a high pitched moan, instantly covering her mouth. “Oh? Is that it then?”  You said grinning. Giving you a grunted ‘mhm’. She’s going to get you back for that just wait!

You scoot back a bit so you can get a good view of her pussy, her bush was so fluffy, and covered with shlick, you wanted to mix yours with hers, you were dizzy for it. Suddenly she pulled you back in for another kiss, and you melted right back into her, rocking her hips as she does so, pulling moan after moan from you, as her nipples poked yours, sending frissons down your back. You could feel her hand nearing your lips, but hovering.. you pull away noticing her hesitation to touch your slit, not wanting you to feel uncomfortable but you instead tell her, encouraging that-

“Hey..I w-want us, shared, each to each, don’t worry. I’m ready. Are you?” You tell her, looking into her eyes full of want.

“I want the same as you— I’m  ready, I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable and.. I don’t want to fuck this up.”She admits, 

“You won’t, I promise.” You said, and she nodded, sure of every move she can take with you, relieved that she can go this far with you. Her fingers sliding against your sticky wet slick, she hasn’t even tasted you yet. Already feeling your pussys analeptic effect. Just hearing your pussys slutty sounds, shlicking as she slides them slowly back and forth between those lips. Taking a nice and long taste of you in her mouth then back to your cunt. Tasting your flavors, flavors she’s bringing out of you, tasting so good for her, mmf she desired more and more. She circled your clit with her middle and ring, she felt upon you with such care, searching for that tick. You squirmed a bit and especially more after finding your spot, right near the top and little to the left. She just wanted to help you feel good, repeating the same thing she does when she masturbates. Flabbergasted that you feel that spot too, she bit back a shit eating grin, as she watched you grip onto her, sliding your hands on her muscular arms. Vi was in total euphoria seeing you like this, it was a lascivious sight, and only for her eyes to see.  Feeling her callous fingers like ridges of delight, tickling and buzzing that spot.  You were chasing that feeling, your gorgeous tits bounced with your motions of crave. That sensation sent waves of fuzz straight to your parietal lobe. Making you arch your back, holding her bicep for support. You released a cracked filthy whine, all for Vi to drink in. 

You were fevering for her cunt, sliding your hand down slipping your fingers on her outer labia, opening them and closing them with your two fingers, “fuckin teasing me like that, princess?” She asked and fully gasped when you explored her dripping cunt, nearing her throbbing clit, slow meticulous circles on that whiney bud. Her need grew, shallow breaths  the more you touched her. It felt too good, so good that she couldn’t help but buck her hips, squeezing her thighs to stimulate her clit. She hissed for more, feeling her mouth water from the inside, gulping down her drool. “M-more.. I want more, babe— mmf, please?”  

“Need, y-your fingers, f-fuck.” 

“Need you to fuck me, fuck me real good, hm?“ she had you spinning the way she was begging.  You slid one finger in, and she lolled her head back, arching towards you, panting vigorously, tits shaking like she’ll erupt any second. “More!” She mewled, and you added another. “W-Wanna feel full of you..”  you went in and out of her delicious cunt, squelching noises from each thrust of your fingers. She felt so warm, your fingers felt at home in this sopping wet cunt. Feeling you all inside her, curling your fingers, touching parts she can’t reach, god she wants to ride your fingers, but she’s too drunk on that feeling to move, until she remembers she wants to see you like this too. She slid in a finger in you, giving you a mischievous grin, and you slacked jaw at the sudden filling, you needed that, feeling those strong fingers fuck you so slow, one finger , and you trying your best not to close your thighs, moaning  like you’re in heat.(you were.) and another until a ring of cream and shlick formed around her fingers, the sight was so fucking hot, you were just all sorts of surprises. Her ears buzzed with every moan she got out of you. Your voice, itched nerves that need that certain scratch, hard to reach but so satisfying to have. You both played with each other, moans filled the air, ooo’s and ahnngs’s fell from your lips, strings of slick engulfed your hands, shared kisses, and bites, and licks from each other.  Both of you in utter bliss, heart beats drumming together, you bit her lip stretching it towards you, releasing it back to her, she couldn’t hold it any longer, she wanted to cum with you so bad. She grabs your shoulders bucking her hips, jerking uncontrollably as you thrust and curl your fingers in her sodden wet cunt.

 You were sure that if you kept them in there long enough they’d wrinkle from how wet she is, and how long she relished to keep you inside, you’d  do anything to keep the faces she was making. Didn’t care how long it took, or tired you be, this was being high but she was the substance, her moans, her twitches, her gasps, fuck her fucked out everything, you gave her more and more, the slick was getting outta control, splashing around her toned thighs, even some getting on your cunt.. You wanna make her squirt, you don’t care that it would get on your floor, the rug, fuck the rug, just fuck her til she sees stars.

You’d watch each other's faces become rich with need, then glancing at different parts of each body part that would throw you over the edge, wanting to cum together. Yet..

“Ahn,nngh I cant, b-baby I can’t, I’m c-cum..” 

“My sweet girl— -cum for me, it’s okay, I’m right here”  you coo’d to Vi as her walls got tighter, harder to thrust, yet you kept going for her until she bucked nice and hard, she’d pulled you into an embrace, smashing her lips against yours, having you swallow her moans, your eyes rolling behind your head, overstimulated, squeezing your thighs as you felt her come undone in your hands.  So warm, so tight, her jerking became much harder, holding you tighter, sticking her tongue near the roof of your mouth, whimpering loudly, you gave her a few more good pumps, hearing something wet come out of her with each thrust. You were in love with this warmth, whether it came from inside or out.. you loved the sensation of her cumming. Her body slowly relaxed into you, she’d nuzzle her head into your neck, and using your free hand you rubbed her scalp, coo’ing sweet nothings in her ear softly, she didn’t say much just mmm’s . Pulling away, she stared at the mess between her legs. 

Damn, she really did fuck me good.. I can get used to this..  

Is what she would have thought until she saw the other mess she made on your rug. 

“Oh my gods, I’m so sorry!” 

“Wh-why?” 

“I just made a mess on your rug, I-“ 

You pull her into a hug, your lips nearing her ear “Violet, I don’t mind— keep doing it.. in fact  do it again, but this time.. in my mouth”  you said in a voluptuous tone, perking her ears. You kissed her ear and she just melted. Well in that case since all is well…

“Wanna taste you, please?”  She whispered in your ear. Sending nerves upon nerves to rise and scream for her. You nodded eagerly.  She coated your neck with frantic wet kisses, untying little bows of your fantasies feeling her enchanting scar against your skin, a smile played at your lips from her frenzy of greed. Decorating hickeys on your collar bone, soothing it with a long and rich swipe of her tongue, her ears delighted to hear your beautiful voice, sweet tones poured out of your mouth, her heart fluttering from each vowel. 

 Touring down to your breast, that glowed under your light, the shine on them was mesmerizing, the way they felt in her hands felt like she was intruding on an artist finished work. Like you shouldn’t be in her hands you should be in a museum, but selfishly like any artist admirer would do, she wants to keep you in sight of her own, even if she wasn’t the one that made you. She couldn’t let someone else see these.  Just touching them feels like she’s healing; a lenitive feeling.  Kissing them was even better, you’d feel her tongue tracing your areolas, swirling her tongue, suckling them as if something would come out, your head would tilt back, moaning how good it feels, squeezing your thighs together from how much she made a mess on your chest. 

Trailing kisses down your sternum, licking your ribcage as if you could ever give more, feeling out your thighs again, squeezing them again, til she got to her destination, your stomach, kissing your tummy, biting it a little. And when she laid eyes on your puffy lips, it was as if her eyes became cat-like, zoned in on her favorite thing in the world.

“So pretty” she said before taking a long stripe against your outer labia, needing to tease you a bit, she wants to help you build yourself back up, it felt weird being tickled in that way, like she was pressing her pink muscle against places that were shocked to be touched like that, it sent tingles all around your dripping cunt. You’d buck your hips at her without your control, even your body knew that this sensation was immense, filling your brain with haze. She knew she’d had you under her thumb the more you kept bucking for her, urging her to try other places. She obliged to your silent begging, giving you a kitten lick on your stressed out bundle, you let out a bellyached croak. A short humorous laugh escaped her, her breath sending shivers up to your neck, “please..” you begged, “okay, okay, I’ll stop.”  and when she meant she’ll stop, gods she meant it, she’d roll her tongue against you, slow, a rhythmic pace, that had you grinding against her face. Crying out her name, like it was a prayer, and she answered every last one of them. Fervorous whines and moans against your divine folds, bud intensified with lust. 

She lapped desperately against your throbbing clit, you’d squirm on the floor, feeling your skin drag against the fluffy rug, tickling your back, and rough hands gliding against your plump thighs. The taste of you overwhelmed her the nerves of her brain, she kept thinking she needs to carve this into her memory. To think back on every twitch, and hitch of your breath makes when she flicks her tongue a certain way. She needs to make sure when she goes home, she can masturbate to this memory over and over again. She was savoring your juices that flowed down her mouth, not being able to catch it all frustrated her, soft groans against you— liberated your pussy. Your sweet tang fulfilling her appetite for you, making her moan against your body, circling her tongue around your hard bud, she wanted more. 

“Pl-please suck on it.. I.. Vi please..”  you whined, that little whine of her name coming out of your mouth your sounds sent jolts straight to her abdomen, she gave you a mhm’ before, clinging onto your thigh, she’d open her mouth to wrap her soft lips around your bundle of nerves, all the while licking it with the tip of her tongue and that send you feeling something snap within you, you gripped her hair, and pulled her in more bobbing her head into your pussy. The heat you emitted was a dangerous combination with your squelching pussy. A cunt too good to just be ate, no she had to devour you with everything she had. Especially as an apology for getting your rug all wet.

“Feels so good,nngh!” 

She’d wiggle her fingers asking you silently if you’d like that too. Not taking a break to pull away from your gushing cunt.

“Fuck yes, please, stick them inside me” you implored stretching out the ‘me’ with a strained moan.  She slipped one, then two, your legs shaked and almost trapped her in your thighs, stopping only one while the other shooked on the left side of her face.  She rubbed little circles around your restrained thigh, and for some reason that made it feel ten times better, like she was unwinding your hips to help you release. Her mouth felt like the best squishy suction cup ever, and her nose, god her nose felt good too, loved when it grazed you a bit, she was getting real good and up in there for you. 

Her fingers pounded more into you, as you bucked your hips.  Vi, squeezing your ass so your clit would jump more, bingeing your every move. She reached up to grab one of your tits, pawing at it, and dammit that was it! A couple of rubs from your nipples and her sucking on you like she was starving— melted you from the insides. Like a volcano that’s been needing to erupt for thousands of years, you rumbled and tumbled and finally releasing, feeling your bud throb in her mouth as you let go, her holding your hips, indenting them with her rough fingers, the orgasm feeling all the more rippling inside of you, you had no choice but to arch in her arms. Quivering legs until you finally relaxed, she crawled up to your tummy for sanctuary, laying her head on top of you, panting, “G-Gods….” 

“Y-You alright?” You asked exhausted, playing in her hair, and she hummed lovingly against your stomach, twining your fingers with her fuchsia locks. She is so close to your warm body, she’s practically sticking to you ”ye-, give me a moment..” 

ᥫ᭡

When you both regained your energy, it was another trial of fucking to get to, it was as if that one moment unfolded and gave you the code to pandoras box of wonders, you had Violet standing up on against your wall, if this was dream I bet you’d  never want to wake up from it. And speaking of dreams, Violet felt like she was walking on clouds the way you traced your fingers on her thighs, it’s been a while since someone appreciated them. Every time you touched her it felt like a song, a personal symphony sung from her nerves, crying out to gods that she was safe with you. If her soul was bare she’d let you touch that too.  You massage the back of her legs trickling your way up to her buttocks, a shallow-slow breath emerges from her, your breath embracing her drenched pussy. A delectable thing to witness, your orbs turning to saucers, you’re about to eat out Violet lanes, it was nerve wracking.  Fingering her is one thing, seeing her pussy swallow your fingers was amazing, but this is different. You stare up at her body, admiring her entire. This god of a woman was standing in front of you, biting her knuckle, averting her gaze from you. Shy little thing, but what does she need to be shy about? She’s a strong, beautiful, relentless person. Every scar from each fight, every back breaking muscle, the pieces of her mirror broken yet glued with gold by herself was completely in puddy within your hands. ‘Bout time someone reminds her that she deserves more, whether it’s through pleasing her, flattery, or simply taking care of her. And right now you have that chance to take care of her.. and hopefully you can do a mass of any want she could ever desire. As much work she’s put into herself, you’d be grateful to even support just as she to and for her.

“Thank you”, you said before diving in her lips, spreading them with your tongue, and from that first lick, she had to hold your head, and the wall to keep herself steady. Biting back a loud one at that, you kept going though, slow and precise, until you noticed her rolling her hips against your face. She used to only think this would happen in her next life, as many night shed traced your touches on her, craving for summer to come again so you’d have more places to lay your hands on, when you’d share a laugh bumping into her chest, laughing in it when you couldn’t get back up from one of her jokes. Even a simple hug when your warmth would linger could be enough for her to fantasize you holding her as she gave you the best strokes of your life. And she knows she’d do a good job at it, she just didn’t know today would be that day you’d be kissing her clit in ways that have her knees almost buckling. Holding her thighs so tightly, massaging them as you painted slow brushes to her pulsating mantle, and slurped her sweet fluids. 

“Mhm, use my mouth baby, use it” you’d say, and she waul from it.  Sticking two fingers inside of her, moving them like the waves of the ocean, and her hips followed as such.

“Mmf, d-don’t do that, Gonna cum quick with you talking like that.. hngh, ah—, yes, yes, oh—my gods! Yes—s..” 

You could taste everything from her, her worries, her love, her fights, everything , it was enthralling, had her rambling nonsense as you replace your fingers with something more entrancing, sliding your tongue inside of her fluttering hole.  You completely lost in it, and she was lost in your eyes, heart going crazy, wanted to leap out and kiss you itself, she bit down on her lip, whimpering your name every now and then. You kept playing with her cheeks the whole time, gripping on her fat ass, spreading it ever so often, slapping them, whatever whichway, it helped you immensely, she bucked harder into your mouth as you did that each time she whimpered your name. You pulled away for only a second to breathe, and she fiercely pulled you back, moaning her name in her pussy. 

“I’ll..ha—h fuck.. I’ll l-let you know when you can stop licking”

Well fuck if you’re gonna be down there for so long, you figured tracing your name on her clit wouldn’t be a bad idea, she’d moan and laugh at your constant traces of your name on her. Though, she did enjoy your tongue plenty.. You didn’t just want her to only get head, no you wanted to entertain her too, so what better way to do it on this floor? You pulled away again and she cried a gargled moan out. 

“Vi baby?” 

“Mhm? Y-yes?“ she asked looking down at you, not ripping her eyes from your siren calling self.

You planted both your feet on the floor, crouching, she tilted her head if you were about to get up, but no, you went back to stuffing your face full of her sodden cunt swirling circles around her bud, she was slacked jaw from the way you use your air against your tongue to thrum it against her jittering pink nub. She couldn’t  remove her eyes from you, looking down at you but noticed something different.. you were moving your ass while giving her head, and fuck was she entertained, you felt her clit get even harder as she watched your ass moved up and down, ripples moving as you stared deep into her eyes, those sexy eyes of yours plus your arse, those piercing, then massaging her clit with your lips, sending her on a different atmosphere. 

“Need to fuck you.. I need to fuck you everywhere…” 

“Fuck me after you cum for me, pretty” 

“You’re so l-ah! So fucking lucky..”  if she wasn’t damn near buckling her knees over this head your giving she’d fuck you senseless right now. Tongue fucking her again as her hair tickled your nose and once you giggled it had her yelp bending over into you, 

“Awe, fuck! Yes baby!” She blubbered on and on how it felt so good.

You mumbled against her pussy and it talked right back to you, curling her tongue to cup her clit, flicking it giving her a more heavy sensation of your tongue, Vi was at the edge of your mercy, ready to just fall into your mouth the way you swallowed her up. You began rolling your hips, your heat aching for her as it dripped on the floor. You’d flatten your tongue letting her take control for a bit. 

“Just like this” she whispered 

“Just like this baby, mm..” 

She came undone again, hips stuttering against your face as she cradled your head, moving it the way she wanted to move it, pulling your hair abit, making your roll your eyes back from that feeling and once she was done using you like a toy you’d flick your eyes up at her, gazing at her fucked out face, you were adorably stuck, a little smile growing on your lips. You were still awkward about how you presented yourself, yet she once again melted that down from you. A puddle under you and puddle were you. She cupped your face holding you, thumbing your cheek, admiring your glistening face, swollen lips.

“I like you, I like you— a lot..” 

“Mhm—-like..me some more, love.”  You replied

“Will do..” She said leaning her head back to the wall taking another breather. Her eyes lingered around the room, landing on the couch.

 perfect.

“Get your sexy ass up on that couch, and open those legs up.” She demanded

“Oh? Someones trying to be in charge” you teased, rising up from the floor,

“I’ve always been in charge— just… a girl can’t enjoy herself?” 

“You’ve been enjoying yourself alright” you said turning on your heel sauntering your way to the couch, Vi giving you a quick smack on your ass, you snickered, rolling your eyes from her lil bravado. Taking a seat  on the arm rest, watching her walk over to you, damn did she look good naked, and walking just took it to another level of sexy. 

You lounged your elbows on the edge of you couch tilting your head. You’d lick the bottom of your lip with a   quick motion. 

“Why are you looking at me like you wanna pounce on me?” 

“Maybe I do” 

“You’re gonna have to put a pin on that cupcake” she commented, gliding her hands on your hips, “wanna try something for you”  giving you a quick wet kiss, turning you around, facing her, back against nothing. Only a shove could place you right into the cushions, but Vi has that in store later.  She’d grasp a full piece of your ass in her hand, thumbing around your dimple piercing, kissing up your neck. She would draw her name out on your stomach right before she reached your slit, running her finger tips along her new well used toy, curious how much you could take. She glides through your folds with ease, her fingers were becoming a favored familiar feeling, your walls took well to her, not putting up a fight, never drying out. She shlicked in another.  

Her eyes low lidded, staring at your already quivering lip, she didn’t move her fingers just yet, she let them stay there for a bit, warming her up, as your honeyed waters flowed in her hand. 

“Wanna take three?” 

“Mhm, stretch me out..” and as soon as you gave her the green light, she slid one more in your crying calcifer, “Yeah.. there you go”, she said sinking them in, three knuckles deep  into your needy heat,  your hands found there way on her back holding her close, letting out pornohraphic moans, the sound of your arousal going in and out and in and out, echoing wall to wall, not missing a beat from wherever the noise came from next, littering your neck with more wet kissing cooing you that you can take it,  in your ear, turning you on even more. 

“Gonna take real good care of you..”  she kept going, stuffing you full, her thrust became more rough as time went on, you could feel power coming from her workouts in your greedy little cunt, it was too much but just enough to have you drooling. You’d move your hands to her shoulders, steadying yourself on her, grinding your hips to feel more. 

“You like being filled don’t you? Mhm— oh you like that word filled?, don’t think I didn’t see that clit twitch when I said that” 

You laid your head on her exposed chest, hiding yourself from your face, now understanding why, it was so embarrassing for someone to see you completely in utter disbelief with ribboned hornyness ironed on your face. A truth that you could easily see through, that you were a horny mess. Whining and whimpering against her, feeling the vibrations of your voice, foggying up her head with just you pleading for her to fuck you harder. 

“Mhm, yeah.. c’mere, bring your ass closer so I can suck on those pretty tits” 

Popping one of them in her mouth as she made work with your clit with her thumb, 

“Had so mush fum with mime, mashty girl…” she babbled with a wet nipple in her mouth, all of it was sending waves to your head and thighs. With grooved crafted long fingers making there permanent dips in your bed of incalescent, you barely being able to focus on anything. 

She aided your backdoor arousal, unknowingly, as she noticed you rolling your hips again, in doing so using her free hand moving your plush arse to rub against the couch,  stimulating your body the best she can. 

You cried when she pulled away from your swollen sweet pebbled nip, shutting you quick with a hand that was once gripping your cheek now around your throat. She slant her head to the side, her eyes trailed down to your tits, then her plunging fingers in your tight cunt, “hear that? That’s you about to cum..” 

“So this is what we’re gonna do, okay? You’re gonna be halfway off the couch, while I take another taste of you. Good? Good..” 

Fucking angel fallen from the golden gates..

She took away her soaked fingers and sucked the slick off of them real nice and slow for you, pushes you to bend backwards on the couch, pulling your legs around her head, going back in for seconds. 

“Good girl, mm you’re so good..’mmm”  she said taking a long swathe of your pussy, slurping a ton of you, you knew her tongue was long but goodness gracious it was tracing the rugae of your cunts walls.  You tried to touch your clit as she used her tongue to thrust in you but she smacked it away, and slapped the top your pussy, making you clench on her. And boy did that feel good, her soft muscle of a tongue felt so different, you were gripping the cushions of the couch, reaching for the head of it to grip its edge, something because your mind was slowly breaking. 

She gripped her arms tighter helping you get closer in her mouth, yanking you back and forth, your ass  dragging against the material of the couch, spinning your head around, and another snap went as a pitch of your whine like a symphony spread throughout the room as your legs shake uncontrollably. Vi could feel your body pulsate, your legs closed pulling her head deeper inside of you as you jerked your hips. 

She pulled out, panting “you tapped out?” 

You gave her your middle finger, “okay, guess not” 

You reached out for her to help you up and she took hold of your wrist pulling you up from the couch, embracing her as soon as you got near her chest. Your arms wrapped around her neck, your legs soon following the same action around her waist. Kissing her deeply, she was caught off guard by your sudden energy, kissing you with the same vigor, holding you up by your ass cheeks digging her nails in your flesh. You gripped on her jaw, nails making crescent moons on her sharp jaw. Shakey breaths in between separation, magnetic to come back for more. Your fingers carding through her fuschia mullet, your fingers not only her drug in her hot wonders, but her hair too. You were dangerous for her. Dangerous for her heart, and the beat that grew again in her core.

“Fuck, I figured you’d want a break”  she exhaled out breaking the hot kiss you both shared. 

“First of all, why didn’t I feel that earlier when we made out?” You inquired her, almost hinted with furious. 

“Was scared..” 

“About what?!” 

“Not a lot of people like the feeling of something long hitting their uvula..” 

“Fuck them!” 

“You sure cause..”

“Vi..not the time”  you scolded sternly, irritation mounted your face, in the back of your head the thought of even sharing her was nerve shattering. Especially after experiencing that. 

“‘Kay..”  she said thinning her lips, holding back her smile, she liked this side of you. Never thought in a billion years you’d want her like this..

Possessive already, sheesh..  (she’s not complaining) 

She gave you kiss on your cheek to melt that off of you, hoping you’d forgive her, and yes it worked. Can’t stay mad for long anyway. You’d tap on her shoulder signaling her to let you go. She slowly set you down and you swiftly moved behind her. A look of confusion washed over her features, wondering what are you up to now?

“Bend over on the couch please?” 

“What’re you?” 

“Please?” 

“Fine, better tell me if you’re gonna stick something in me” 

“I would never not tell you that” you said giving her ass a good smack she let out a shriek that made your pussy weep from that high pitch. You absolutely adored her voice pitches.

“Spread ‘em” you ordered her, she sighed, moving her legs away from each other. 

“I promise I won’t stick anything in you without permission so cut it out with the attitude” 

“Maybe if I was being fucked right now I wouldn’t have it” 

“Okay smart ass”  you muttered, pressing a thumb on her outer labia, Vi hummed happily that you started touching her again. Except, you were only using your thumbs, massaging her lips, pressing them together, dripping her nectar down on the floor.

She’d whine moving her tush for you to do something else, but you had this evil grin on you. 

“Nuh uh, you were being a smart ass.” 

“Sorry please, need you” 

“Not gonna work, babe” you denied her, she let out this sob and you spanked her for it, another high yelp coming from her. She bit her lip down, groaning. However every smacked you gave, you did not fail to see that her tremoring waters were falling down her muscled thigh. You moved your hands to her ass, drawing small circles around her supple cheeks. Tingles were killing her on the inside, upset from no penetrating fingers and oddly enough, curious satisfaction from it, it felt as though you were enjoying her little shakes from being deprived of your lack of fucking her. Shallow breaths emitted from her, and the build up was no secret, you were working her up something fierce. Stripping her of her privileges was just the start,  you’d near her pussy every now and then only to give her nothing, blowing on clit, thinking she’d finally get some, only to bite her thigh the next. 

After a a half an hour of you fucking with her head, you gave her a little prize for not begging, or trying to get something to touch her rose bud,  you kiss her cunt sloppily, swaying you head from side to side lapping at her bushy pussy, burrying your face thoroughly into her musk,.

“Oooh, fuck..— eat that pussy mmm! Fuck.. yeah baby”  she’d moan, bobbing your head as you laved in her folds, pulling more wauls from her, gobbling her right up.

“Oooh,, fuu—ck “ a prodigous hunger you become acquainted with every time you submerged into her mess of a cunt.

“Awe shit, oh gods…”  her legs mimicking temblors, desperately wanting to move around, but everytime she even as shake her ass into your face you’d smack it hard and rough, preventing her from just adding more friction.

“Lemme grind into your face please, please, need to!!” 

“Uhh-uh” you say and she felt it, grinding her teeth, drool seeping into your cushions, fuck it she had to bite down on something, it was torture not being able to rub her throbbing axon of ardor. You’d break away from her pussy, drown from her intoxicating natural perfume, a muffled whine feathered from her lips. You had to pull away just for a bit…to admire her butt that is. 

You gave her another smack, making a red hand mark on her pale ass. You groped the round of her butt, giving her a good harsh squeeze, roughly playing with her ass, always seeing it just not in your hands often put your mind in a frenzy, of course you were an ass girl after all. You gripping on creases that weren’t too far away from her rounds, shaking them to make sure you got see this lecherous ass vellicate in your hands. Watching it bounce, wriggle, whatever it  was  breathtaking, gave you a good scratch to your brain. 

“H-Having fun there?”  She asked and you ducked under her legs seeing her face all red, breathing out a laugh, “fuck you” 

“I bet you’d like that huh?” 

She sighed deeply, pushing her face into the cushions.

“Oh be quiet, you’d do the same thing to me. In fact you’ve been pawing at my ass quite a bit today” 

“It’s a nice ass” she stated, murmuring  into the couch but loud enough for you to hear the words. You rose back up, shifting your focus back to her arse again, you’d spread them apart to marvel at her pink pretty pussy, and her.. throbbing anus. 

“Hey..” 

“What?” 

“Can I.. can I stick my tongue in here?” 

“Why..?”

“Just curious “ 

“Mm..I mean.. go for it let’s see if I like it” 

Pretty sure you will the way it’s all twitchy

You gather a large amouth of saliva, drippling it down to her anus, watching it slide over her slit. You didn’t want to rush this, so back to her pussy it is!

You licked her entire vagina, you moaned without a care in the world, eating her like she's the last waterfall on earth. Her slicked mimicked a certain plant, a gingembre de la ruche, the kind that you have to squeeze out, getting your hands all messy with its thick and creamy substance, you slurped with delight. Her ass ricocheting against your face, muffled sobs of sweet eudemonia. 

You moved up to her arse swirling your tongue into her ass hole, and to your surprise it’s actually sweet… like extremely sweet.  And after find that out you gogred yourself to her rimmed ass,

“Oh! Um?! Oh fuck?”  You slid your tongue inside of her, getting more of her,  a swell filled your core, tingling with excitement knocking at your entrance, something possessed you  the more you drilled your tongue in her hole, kissed it, licked it, going deep inside of it, fuck it all you didn’t care, it was so sweet and addicitive, you couldn’t help but go back for more. 

“Okay..fuck—.. oh, FUCK!”  Something clearly possessed Vi too, at first it was weird, like a weird tickle, and then it broke, whatever strings of decency she had ripped from her and had her gritting her teeth to feel more of you sink your tongue inside of her.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes”  she rocked her hips to feel more and you gripped onto her, hugging her legs, another long stripe from her clit to her ass again, and again, like she was candy herself. Her legs were shaking, pussy pulsating, and her arse begging for more. And then you stopped.

“Huh? No.. no,no, no.. I was so close, baby please.” She even stomped on the floor for a second, your eyes buldged at her tiny tantrum. You winded your arm back and spanked her, knocking some sense back into her.

“Nope, water break” you clearly stated, pronouncing each word fully, sticking your finger in her cunt once more, her knees buckled and she caught herself on the couch. You sucked your fingers walking away as she laid on the couch, panting.  

“Yeah you’re right.. water break. Definitely need a water break.” You pressed something cold against her cheek, and she whined from the sudden freezing bottle. 

“Big baby” 

“Whatever” she replied, snatching the bottle from you. you jortled at her, you’d seen her have an attitude plenty of times, but this is just downright hilarious, over some ass eating? Seriously? 

“I wanted to finish..” she pouted taking a drink from the bottled water. 

“In a minute” you decided, another annoyed huff from her.,

ᥫ᭡

-Own my mind by Maneskin😵‍💫🔒

She sat on the cold coffee table, nervous she might break it, you’d reassure her that everything is okay, it’s a really sturdy table. Her shoulder tension soon untied and loose, widening her legs for you, and hands planted behind her. Her hair stuck to her forehead, she'd comb it out of the way, her body still sticky from earlier, abs glistening in the light. You’d peer at your window seeing the sun setting, no ones ever been able to keep up with you like this, it was nice. Of course Vi could keep up, she doesn’t have a body like that for no reason, but you’d worry if her libido has been strained. You’d check in with her and she would tell you with eyes full of certainty and trust: I’m not that tired, I’ll let you know if I need to stop. And last but not least a fire that was still going behind all of that validity.

Since you were so worried she might be pushing herself, you’d decided that you should have a safeword: red. 

You gradually slither your fingers from her abdomen to her sternum, taking a flick from the bottom of her nipple, she’d wince from the sudden touch, feeling something hot within her gut,  you’d repeating this movement in the interim waiting for a sign that she’s ready for your next ecstasy of curiosity. Your sign came out, enough for you to hear a low throaty moan freed from her soft lips. Your expression on your face was pulling her in, that greedy smile that you bit down with your teeth, your lids halfway closed, lashes fluttering hinting something perverted within you. Vi rotated her hips for you, her face was flushed like hues of ripe strawberries when your finger pulled her non-pierced nipple.  

Releasing it making her tit bounce back, you’d take both of your fingers poking, rubbing, flicking her nipples (pay back for flicking your forehead earlier) a dopey laugh loosed out from your succulent lips, and huff from her mouth. 

“I said I was sorry, stop being such an ass about it” she proclaimed, her nose scrunching up a bit, but her tone hinted, want, desperation. Her jumping pink cherry, not really helping her out with being a chest puffed out prick. More like please fuck me but I’m going to pretend I’m being a bitch. 

“You actually never said that but go off” you quipped, flicking her nipples again, another stained whine  from Vi. Your eyes took an interest between her legs and noticed a pool of her liquids leaking off of your coffee table. You’d smirk, the thought she was getting off just from her tits made you throb all over.

“Oh so you are into bdsm”  you said outloud, not realizing that wasn’t an inside thought.

“Huh..” 

“Huh”

“Wait you- are we going t-?” 

“Mm.. I think that would be a bit much for you.. today”  you interrupt her, fast talking over whatever she was saying that made your face firey, avertying your view from her. Your ears were hot as fuck, embarrassed that you actually said that to her. You don’t want her pondering on that so, you bent down, lips kissing and sucking her abs, you been itchin to lick the sweat off of her, she’d clutch onto her own thigh from the libidnous assault on her abs, your tongue encircling them, and her panting from the carnivorous display. She grabbed your jaw, planting a wet messy kiss on your lips, tasting her sweat off of your tongue, you both humming in between breaths. She guided you to sit on her lap, straddling her, legs quivering over the large rigid muscle. Hard as a damn rock it was.  

Your fingers made their way to her fuchsia locks, pulling it, it felt so good that she pulled you closer, breast pressing against each other, nipples teasing with each shake. She’d pull on your nipples as revenge, yet is it really?— When you're in fact moaning her name? 

You ripped yourself from her lips, her brows furrowed frustrated that you wanted to keep teasing her. 

“Wait—“ you paused, her nose scrunching up again, her lip upturning to let out a- “ before you get mad I have a proposition” 

Her face relaxed, and she manspreaded her legs, you gulped from her still being able to exude that masculinity even in this state, fucking janna you needed to stuff her cunt in your face again!

“Proceed” she growled, she was still a little pissed with the interruption.

ᥫ᭡

You came  out of your room with a big bottle, a smiled buddened your lips.

“What’s that?” 

“Lube”, she shook her head waiting for you to finish why you have that, with nothing else in your hand.

“Wanna try anal?”

“Um…” she said with puckered lips. 

“We don’t have to!” 

“No! I.. okay.. —- uh..I don’t want to do strap anal.. YET! “ she corrected you before you figured she was scared of that idea or even protestant of that suggestion, “But another time, sure..”

“Okay that’s cool, I.. I- that’s I didn’t bring anything.. I’ve tried it.. but I know you definitely wouldn’t want to try that all at once.. To tell you the truth it’s a lot at first..” 

“Fingers would be better though,” you continued. Her eyebrow quirked up, hearing that.

“Can we try it with—fingers?”  She asked, her eyes dilating, as she danced her gaze between you and the bottle. 

ᥫ᭡

You first poured it on the surface of her ass then filled it with the lube..“Nngh, that’s cold..”

“It’ll be warm in a bit” you reassured her, kissing her inner thigh. 

“I’ll start with one finger and if you want two, tap me”  she nodded, “Vi.. I’m not going to insert it right now” 

“But—“

“Aren’t you scared? It might hurt” 

“I trust you.. I think I can handle it if it’s you..” her eyes were glossy, biting her lip, darting from your orbs to your lips. You bend down to her face, nearing her lips again. “Gonna take this nice and slow, okay frost?” 

She let out a light snort from that dumb nickname. You interrupt her laugh with a kiss, and she instantly melted into you, a enjoyable hum coming from her, your lips sort of fight a bit for dominance, not much of a fight though, from you, her scarred lip once again trembling your hooded secret, her hands cradling your face, pulling you into her more. Her tongue no longer shy reaching deep down your throat, you breathed deeply through your nose for air. It felt as though you were making out with the most indelible woman in the world, actually not it was a fact. A dangerous fact that had you caught in her muscled clutches, welcomed to be captured by her. The kiss grew deeper, delicious tongues, and teeth were shared, long pining moans in an earth plate shaking tango.  You’d tuck her hair back from her face, removing her tickling locks from your nose, she moved her head back and forth, tongue fucking your throat, and you were all accepting of it. Your Oropharynx, being treated with such devotion, enamored with her tongue as well which alerted your brain to alert your blooming dripping flower to be overflowed with want. 

You kneaded her abdomen, feeling the pressure of her hardened tissue, appreciating her dedication with a well deserved massage, her abs contracting at your compassionate touch. You fingers made their way down to her happy trail, enjoying the sensation of her hairs twining with your fingers, her moans through her now rough frenching, louder, swallowing each one, gladly. You pulled away sucking down one more moan, a honeyed line connecting you both. Together, stertorous, sucking the air back into your lungs, fuck the air you craved to touch more of her, you sat on her lap. Her hands naturally holding you down, your mouth eager for her ear, playing with it, circling her lobes with your wet pink muscle. Her back arched from your play, motioning you to grind on her lap, and you did. You fucking did whatever the fuck she wanted with an angelic voice like that pouring into your ears, your walls being able to hear such a voice fall from golden gates and into your home. If the walls could applaud they would, if the atoms in the air could do backflips they would, if only you could permanently have this moan in your head like a ongoing vinyl youd fucking would. 

Your fingers danced around her palms intertwining yours with hers, an intimate loving way to tll her everything is going to be okay, holding your hand would had her losing her shit, instead she was losing herself not understanding where you began and she ended, mind boggled by how you got her so pathetic for more of you. She apologized for letting go over your hand but she needed to touch herself right now, or she’d bite down on her tongue to punish herself for not even taking the opportunity to show you how she pleasures her needy folds.

You watched her swirls her fingers around her crying gummy button, slick loud in her palms, moans crying out your name, bucking hips with so much energy, gods what a damn sight. You had to repay her, so you’d licked her pulse points, rolling your tongue and more intricate skills against her sweet spot. She sobbed your name in response to those sensations you and herself gave her. Your mouth latching on that very sugary sweet spot, sucking it again and again, soothing it with delectable swipes of your tongue, she was tearful for it.  You’d lick her tears away coo’ing in her ears “go on, cum”. 

However, she did want to very much so, she felt her anus needy, so she grabbed your free hand as you littered her with hickeys, moving it towards her downstairs heat. Catching on quick with your wit, you circle it a bit 

“Please, please, please, —pleaseeeee” she grunted that last ‘please’, desperate for it, you stick only a half a digit, a tip of it in, kneading her tit in your other hand. You’d do this repeatedly, until her anus was trying to gulp you up. Stretching it a bit expanding her, another wail coming from her, biting her pearly whites on her precious bottom lip, you also gnashed your teeth on her ear pulling it, her back felined deeper. 

You released it, whispering “how many times have you masturbated to me Vi?” 

Her hips lurched from the sudden question, her ears crismon, how the hell did you know that she was tending her hot pussy to you?

“Better tell me or I won’t—“ you circled her clenching hole again, needing to be filled up by you, sobbing for you to put it in, only met by more teases.

“I.. ah.. — can you— mmf, oh god, princess please?” 

“Uh-uh not until you tell me…” 

You began to lapped at her nipples making sure both got attention, suckling her pierced one the most. Her head was a circus filled with too many things and too many thoughts going back to: I need to be full right now, fuck it all, fuck meeeee. 

“Mm! -mmmhfwa..  I.. haah— o- ok, okay, oka—y fi—ne!” she whined, lollying her head back.

“Often, almost every time I leave.. I masturbate to you, your voice, that look in your eye, everything, even if your not wearing makeup, or if your hair is messy it helps out even more— happy? Now fuck me please”

You slid a finger warming her until shes ready for movement her lipped quivered and her voice tainted with only please coming out her mouth.

“B-baby I told you.. c’mon!”

“Since”

“Fuck! You’re such a bitch for this!” She cried again, you jerked in your her finger hard into her and she rolled her eyes back, gargling a moan out, “s-sh-sorry”

You kept it still, warming her again. 

“Since I— I.. fucking hell. Princess, I’ve been masturbating to you since we met” she turned to you with puppyed eyes. Your eyes widened at her confession, your chest rising and falling, heat rushed throughout your entire body like embers making out with  each memory you had with Vi since meeting her. 

You began fucking her senseless, her ass and your fingers making abhorrent noises, especially as she masturbates, “You’re a dirty, little sweet treat, huh?”  She nodded, moaning your name, memories of her masturbating to you, smothering her mind,“Nn-need your tongue, princess” 

Your lips made contact again, tongue fucking eachother, quelching against each other, as you recoiled your hips, giving your inferno a some kind attention. Your falls, dribbled down her legs,”shho—warm” she tried to speak through your passionate kiss, you ripped yourself away again, lettinf out “fuck this, Need you in my mouth now”

You got on her knees lapping at her pussy she taped your cheek, and you slid in two for her as she began riding your fingers you played with her bush, and happy trail as you fucked her both ways. Both holes clenching down  as you jiggling her ass with your free hand giving her more friction. Her mind and body being able to keep up with your tongue filling her hole, and your fingers, convulsions taking hold of her as she cried out your name so loud you knew your neighbors heard her, her musk was addictive, and her cum, twice as much, creaming on your tongue, and drowned, you thought you died but of course from muscle memory to remind yourself: I need to drink her, all off her. She didn’t stop cumming, she held your head close to her as she let out her squirt in your supple mouth. 

ᥫ᭡

No mistaking it, you were both checking off to your lists of what else you’ve been craving to do to each other. All of this tension, all of the almost there's, and  tooth rotting, hair pulling yearning that could have been melted with one kiss.

Her eyes roll back, her mouth slacked open a tasty moan, as she felt both of your lips make contact, “This feels— way better than.. ah,I-.. oh fucking hell… way better than I thought— ‘nngh” moaning, as her nails digged into your hips, slapping eachother cunts together, the friction going to both of your heats. Her hands find their way to your neck again, only pressing a berry size bit, the sensation peaked your sense you’d  still try to speak to let her know, “Violet your sho warm..“,gliding together, your cunts glistened, shined. 

Gushing against each other, her rocking her hips slow, the more you both shook against each other, the more you both became molten, “Babe, you hips are violently shaking..against me.. I- aah-, aah-, aah!”, clarets kissing each other ever so often spinning you both for a loop, minimal movement restricting both poise papillons thrills.  It wasn’t enough for either of you but hardly stopped any stutters, only warmth, and titillation arousal kept you both going. “Can’t help it, feel too good” you replied.

Vi took grasp of your hips, her abs convulsing, with every touch of the curve of your arse, tides of your skin shook within her hand once she found a good cadence for your gliding cunts. “ fuck,fuck, fuck, fuck!” Vi cried out. But after finding a moment of consistent pleasure.. You were absorbed within it, pleasing the both of you that all you could hear in the room were your tulipe d’afriques clapping. A tune that never could be anything more than ustulation. Seraphic noises in the air, only reaching into ears of the perverse, and sweet throbbing clarets. Her nails marked you all around your lower body, fevoring for her favorite flower.  Littering both of her cheeks with falcate bows in her skin, more red marks for her collection.  It took one look from each other to interlocked, neither of you being able to look away from this moment you shared each to each as if this was a personal sweven that only you could wish on a starry night to have. 

“This is really bad, why does everything feel so damn good with you..” 

“I think I’m getting addicted “ she continued, another rush of her sugary throbbing drupe caressing yours, your eyes fluttering close, gritting your teeth at her shallow pants, all you could say was “So slippery”, as your eyes made home to the back of your head. “C’mere, w-want us to cum”  she told you as she yanked your body closer to her, nipples giving eachother quick kisses, it was as if Violet was engulfed by your beams like a sensational time to apricate against you and only you. Her sun, her beaming beautiful sun, she could have mistaken her need to be closer to you as heliophilia if she knew how much she grown accustomed to your hot spell. As she slotting against you more, the squish of your lips together making obscene noises, getting close to your climax. 

Your mind snaps and you let out cries, wrapping your arms around her neck, you didn’t stob rucking against her though, you pleaded “hold me” in her ear, and she embraced you tightly, her biceps curling against your supple skin, throaty gulps of moans in a sealed kiss as you both arrived on eachother. Hips becoming broken records just like Violet's vocal cords when she’d stare at you for too long. Now comfortable to view you, your essence, your spirit, and the comfort of a cotton candy embrace. 

ᥫ᭡

You both cuddled on the couch, but only for a bit, you both popped this question that spun in your brains, creating rooms for free. Consent was given, and peppered kisses were shared as you. Both drank more water, a quick snack, and went back to business. But before you simply just went back.. that consent that was told before, must be wrapped and sealed carefully. Promised with a white cloud. 

Your eyes became dark seeing the way she watched you lick the brown wrapper sealing it carefully. She placed the blunt in your mouth, waiting for her to light it. She’d flick her zippo lighter your way, burning it with ease. Shifting her body around to place it back in her grey sweats that were carelessly casted away. 

That smoke twirled in that air, energy of love pouring into each of your cups, not being able to tell when she begins and you end.. as you both shared this blunt. 

As was stated before, a high only heightens prior emotions, and no mistaking that this was going to be the best one yet. The mood shifted into something more deeper than before, it was as if you could feel each other's sexual energy, it quaked in your heart, and throat. A silfira, born. No, not born broke from the crust of the earth to emerge between you.  She took a long drag of it before nuzzling her head into your collar bone, licking your nape in flat tongue motions, while playing with your pois papillon again. Gathering your syrupy slick along her calloused fingers, you’d laze against her, unwinding under her touch. Letting out soft pitcher lullabies, every vibration you let out reached her, like they were thrusting inside of her, cruising against your waves of honey. 

“Mm, wanna fuck on the bed?”  She suggest, focus on your slick sticking to her fingers.

“Mhm, carry-aah-,  me?” 

“Of course, baby” 

ᥫ᭡

As Vi set you down on the bed, a thought crossed her mind, and groaned from that very thought. She was upset she didn’t bring her strap for you, of course she had no idea this would be the day you both would step over that pink ribbon of a line. Although not everything was lost, you admitted you have one, recently bought out of curiosity. You wanted to see what a girthy strap was like, searching online you found one. A black strap called ‘black mamba’ piqued your curiosity, it had thick veins, and the tip was big but soft. It has been sitting in your closet since the last time you took it out, just to feel it, and test it if you and it were a good match. Lots of lube needed to be used, though it just didn’t feel right exactly. You kept it in your closet because using the strap yourself wasn’t enough. Frustrations were the main reason for its imprisonment.

 

-Angel (Remastered 2019) by Massive Attack 💢⭕️💢⭕️🌹‼️

Now there was a ludic reason to finally bring it back out. 

You were at the foot of the bed, on all fours, one hand underneath your legs, gripping the black strap shaft, not entirely swallowing it within your melting core. You were in fact plopping the rubber bulbous in and out of your needy heat, it felt even more good with thc in your system, all the while Vi rubbed your ass. You let out a breathy laugh, you could feel Vi was struggling just seeing you in control. You suggested she’d take a breather, lay down, relax, that was the idea, until you lightbulbed more scandalous brainstorming in that crafty mind of yours. Upon using both of her hands, entranced by the plopping sounds your pussy would make every time you took back out. You were in a particular mood, the kind that feeds her hunger, the kind that has you truly in deep plunging waters of seclouth. Her eyes were completely captivated by your stretched out slutty cunt. She paid attention to your pussy, as it gushed slick, making honeyed cord lines every time you make contact with the black bulbous.

“So fucking hot, holy shit, you’re so hot”  

She felt anguish to not be able to just push your head into the mattress, giving you the most visceral strokes into your crying tight tulipe d’afrique. Fine, if she can’t have her play, then she’ll just fuck you in other ways. —-You see Vi wasn’t just getting fucked by you earlier. She was taking notes, and she’s a quick learner. She played with your trembling anus before gripping on your ass stretching your other hole, sending you off the rails. You’d plopped the black bulbous in quicker, “if you’re going to keep teasing me like that, can you..” trailing off, swaying your ass telling her silently: fingers now…  She let out a soft whine hearing you say that, she was so curious to see how you take well to her fingers in there, you’d slipped the bulbous inside of you, warming it while vi … well she filled your anus with the same lube you filled hers. She made sure she grabbed the bottle while you were looking for your black mamba in the closet,  with the way you described it seemed like you’d need it, and boy how much you needed… not just for that strap.. Came in handy, no? After a few teases of your ass hole, and throaty wet gulps from the anticipation, she dipped her fingers inside of you. You grit your teeth from being full from both ends, planting your face deep in the bed. Your legs twitched insufferably, Vi would take her free hand and massage your calves, making sure you were really feeling good. 

“Awe is my baby about to cum? Hm? You wanna cum?”  She said, pounding your ass with her long fingers, two in deeply reaching your special places within. You couldn’t even form a word, barely a moan, just wet noises coming from your mouth and two holes. You’d swivel your pussy around the bulbous to feel more, almost filling yourself with it, but had enough sense to not do that just yet. Violet could feel and witness you clench from both ends, you were about to cum hard. Except, a certain pink haired jackass got wise and swiftly pulled out her fingers from your anus, which prompted you to stop teasing your cunt, 

“Fuck you” you moaned, finally being able to regain some verbal access.

“I bet you would like that right now, huh?” She quipped back, a nefarious chuckled she let out, you’d let go of your black mamba and gave her a middle finger from between your legs, she’d make a cirlcle with her thumb and index finger pretending to fuck it. 

“bet you’d like me to ride that” 

“Well now I dunno what I want, both are pretty.. “ she slid her fingers in your ass again, trampolining her long fingers again, confusing your brain circuits, you’d let out another moan before speak.

“Fu—ckin’, good options..” you managed to reply, and then once again she removed those delectable fingers again, a huff coming out of you from her insistent teasing. You got up sitting on your forelegs before crawling toward her, straddling her, properly holding her shoulders for support. She helped you position yourself above the strap, and you leisurely lowered yourself, your heat swallowing halfway down on it.

“C’mon go lower” she begged pathetically, her eyes yearning to see it disappear in you. 

“I.. it’s too big Violet.” (you were lying… lying like a damn slut) —She was sad to hear that, but that’s okay, she wouldn’t force you to take it, if you can only handle only a bit, then she’d make sure you’re comfortable first before anything.

“S’fine, go ahead do your thing, baby” 

You were making such a mess, dripplets of your cunt would splash on her abs, your slick was soaking the strap. And you were sucking it in so good just not enough for Vi to fully see it disappear..  but you tried using her abs as a steady mount, except your slick was truly slippery. You lost your footing and accidentally dropping deep into her cock her eyes round as ever immediately concerned for you, catching you but not in time to undo any ‘damage’.   You’d let out a feral moan, your arms shook as you reached for opposite sides of your face, you tilted your head upwards facing the ceiling. Your jaw slack, then closed, biting your bottom lip roughly.

“Baby you okay?” Violet asked, the round bulbous smooched your g-spot, and made you let out more carnal moans, gripping the sheets, bouncing up and down on it. 

“Fuck…! “  

“Fuckin knew you could take more— messing—aah-  with my head like that“ She planted her feet on the bed, arching upwards holding you hips jerking her hips into you, helping the strap reach deep in your cervix, only  plap, plap, plap bounced off the walls, until Vi broke the ongoing noises adding her own.

“You take my cock just fine” she’d tease.

“Yesh, whatever fuck.. mee” 

“Don’t stop, mmm” you said, as your tits shook up and down, nipples looking so succulent.

“Holding out on me”

ᥫ᭡

The both of you were supported by thc, taking over to add on the high of carnaling hunger for each other, She takes another drag from the joint  before speaking again, “You are so— fucking hot, damn” , putting it out on a near by ashtray on the night stand and placing it behind her ear, diving in to suck your tits once more.

You lift her head up by pulling her hair back, she whines from being ripped away from your pretty puffy nipples, you felt empty, needed fulfilling.  It’s critical that you get some strap in your stomach again. 

You felined your backside up to her like an animal in heat waiting for her to stick that plastic right down deep in your sticky core. Vi swiping her tongue on her bottom lip, seeing you spread your petals, dripping your ambrosia on your sheets, ruining them with a puddle. Before giving you what you want she needs to taste it again, crawling over to you, baiser avec la langue, deeply, her nose drown in your juices, tongue reaching your clit, swirling it around, moaning vibrations into your cunt, you’d went cross eyed from her long warm tongue. Giving you clit a good sucking, releasing it with a loud ‘pop’  before sliding the black strap against your dripping rose, needing to pluck that hungry hole, leaking sweet nectar.  She slowly slipped in the girthy dick in you, bottoming out, hips managing to touch your plush arse. You instinctively bit down on your sheets, preparing for some lethal strokes. Her breath quivered, seeing you suck it in so easily, short circuit her brain for only a moment. She rubbed circles with both palms on your ass, admiring your plushness.

In her eyes you were radiant, even though the sun had fully set, the night sky taking over, she personally had the sun in her palms right now. Her hips moving back and forth, finding her rhythm, and you curving your butt back into her, matching her tempo. Soughs coming out of your tainted lips, bringing thrills in Violet's ears. Your folds holding her tightly, yet you still begged her to fuck you harder. “Fuck you harder? You're already clinging to me, baby..” 

“Please?” 

“Okay, if you start crying I’m gonna stop okay?” 

“Mm.. sometimes I tear up when it’s so good.” 

“Overstimulation turns me on..” 

“Oh..”

Oh

Ohhh

“You didn’t mention that earlier..” 

“Figured you’d think I’m weird..“

“No no, this is.. great news” 

“Now I don’t have to hold back”  she said as readjusted herself on the bed.. tame, now unlocking a primal beast out of her cage…

“Gonna fuck you for real now.. kay?” 

“For real?” You repeat confused by the statement..Vi pulled your legs closer, stretching her upper body over you, setting her hands down into your mattress, one palm over the over, you were confused with this position, never had done this before, I mean being folded isn’t new to you but this is odd. But as soon as she started snapping her hips into you, you didn’t even care. You were too busy sinking into the bed while she thrusted deep inside of you feeling your brain go to mush. 

“Sho—ah-much— sho— dee- aah!” You said barely being able to form coherent words, even swallowing was hard, it was as if the harder her hips snapped into you the more pressure reached your cervix, somehow feeling like it was reaching your throat. 

“Oh fuck.. my neck.. red, RED, Vi red” you yelped out, as much as it felt good it was just too much for your neck that is. Thank goodness for the safe word. She immediately stopped when she heard your yelp, helping you get up from the pose, inspecting your body first, worried eyes scanning over you.

“shit— I’m so sorry.”  You rubbed your neck, tending to the pained area, “It’s s’okay, if we’re gonna do that I need to focus on more yoga, ‘kay?” You tell her, seeing her worried eyes gave you an ache in your heart, giving her a quick kiss trying to show that it really is okay. Just happy she listened to you, trusting her even more for respecting your consent, respecting the safe word.. just being concerned for your well being and mind. 

“Still wanna continue?” You ask, and she nodded. 

ᥫ᭡

You’ve been sucking on her your strap for a good minute, you wanted her to forget about her tiny mistake.You’d lather your spit on the strap, tasting yourself on it, Vi cupped your cheek in her hand, thumbing where you’d stuff the strap in. 

“You ready?” She asked,you let out a gargled mhm, plopping the bulbous out of your mouth to turn your body around for her. She grabbed both of your wrists with one hand, reaching for your jaw and held up your face. 

“You okay?” She asked one more time still feeling guilty for hurting your neck earlier, moving you closer to her face, kissing your neck, “Mhm..”  she slipped in the lubed up strap in your heat real slow, her pace gentle and slow, still filling you up in all the right ways. Gathering up a ball of spit to drip down, the warmth of her spit hitting your cunt as she thrusted. She bottomed out over and over again for you, her metre pulsating your bud of nerves. Your slick reached down her muscular thighs, sweltering fluids felt so good, melting her brain with how the black strap would vanish within you.

“Vi?, Violet please” you’d pleaded, you wanted her to give you the backshots like before, it’s better in this position, your neck not in danger, wanting her to give her those carnal strokes made your cunt cling onto her more, and the way you begged for her right now, her ears were buzzing— red as ever.

 “I love it when you say my name like that, keep calling out to me.” you grunted at her not easily obeying, but who cares you may be the bottom but it doesn’t mean you can’t be a dom right now. 

“Let me hear you beg for it.. Lanes”  Vi, whined that you wouldn’t let her have the upper hand, but whined even more that she did feel the need to beg instead, regardless of her being the one in control, you still had her on a silver leash. 

“Please please baby, please say my name like that again” she sobbed, 

“Mhm, -aah- good girl!..” you praised her and she was like a dog in heat, so so happy to hear you praise her while she fucked you all slow. 

“Violet, it’s so big, mmmf —I need more of you, Violet, please— fuck me harder, Violet” 

“Fuck…”.  She just couldn’t keep you at bay from her strokes, in so she starts drilling into you.

“Oh fuck, yeah! Break me baby, break me.!”  You moaned as your ass recoiled back into her hips, such a soft nice round ass, piercings glistening from the moon light.

“Say it again”  she demanded, grunting through her teeth. 

“Break me, Violet” 

“Shit—-take it, take it, take it, fucking take it” 

Digging in your gushy cunt, another thrust and it angled in a way for Vi to feel it touch her clit, her moans were animalistic, right through her teeth hissing, “yesh,yesh,yesh,,yesh” she repeated as she beat it into you and to herself.

“Oh gods—-aah— haah-, I’m gonna cum, fuck!”  you let yelled out, 

“cum with me baby, cum with me” She moaned, grunting in your ear, as the strap kissed your g-spot again, another few deep visceral strokes, and you were done in, and so was Vi, both of you falling into the bed, legs squirming, Vi lazily still trying to ride out her orgasm, pumping into you on your side. 

ᥫ᭡

Tissues, water bottles, and an empty bottle of lube, surrounded the both of you, your leg was over her shoulder, her abs glistened, your forehead dripping in sweat. You gave her a hair claw clamp since her hair kept falling in her face, she was irritated about it, felt like it was cramping her style, and you’d laugh at her protest, but she listened regardless of it ‘ruining’ her style.

“Baby, are you tired?”  She asked, seeing you glow under her, sweat covered the both of you, going at it for so long, till twilight, you were completely enamored by her. Her tenacity to keep up with you, her perfect hair, her perfect nose, her body sculpted by hard work, her libido was just a plus, and her personality.. everything had you hooked. 

“No, I can keep going” you answered, gulping down some spit that built up from how good she’s fucked  you up in this postion.

“You sure?”  She said slowing down her strokes, unsure if you’re just saying that. ‘Mhm’, you said again, giving her a lazy smile, the strands of your hair sticking to the sides of your face, sweat in your brows, and all you can hear, plap, plap, plap, reverberating between you, after confirming you really are good to keep going.  

“I’ll spoil you until you’re satisfied, cupcake,”  she stated, teasing your nipple between her index finger and thumb.

“O-okay— haah-”

ᥫ᭡

A few more good quick deep strokes kissing your cervix and the both of climaxing once more.. finally caput, she fell down next to you from exhaustion, arm over you, her hand pressing into your sweat glistening stomach, pulling you into her also sweaty body. “Damn..” 

“Damn indeed, why the fuck did we do that?”  tiredly, panting hard, as so did she. 

“Horny..” she replied,

“Oh yeah..” you, sprawled your leg over hers, and she lifting her knee to your warm slit, just wanting to keep it close to her.

“Dummy” she taunted, kissing your shoulder tenderly, a smile crept up your face, relaxing into her touch. “Not dumb just gay” 

“Mhm”  You both laid there still panting, you touched yourself, your body jerking hard into her body. 

“Fuck, lanes— you ruined me..” You claimed looking at your slicked fingers she gave you an mhm and kissed the back of your neck. 

“Was I worth the wait?”

“No, obviously I hated this entire thing, all of it fake, even this cum in my hand is fake” She tapped your face in protest. 

“Yeah.. you—you really were worth it, Vi” 

“Thought so” 

You both took a well needed nap curled up to each other. 

ᥫ᭡

Birds chirped, already awoke, sharing a nice chat, well deserved cuddle. You laid in her arms, still naked with each other, kissing her cheek with plenty of energy

“Awe you’re so shweet”  She complimented you, as you tip toed your fingers up and down her stomach, and she rubbing spheres around your shoulder, sometimes her name, short, or long.

“Fuckin’ love these cheeks, mmf” you kiss again and again, to just peppering her with kiss and she just lets out sugary giggles from your insistent kissing. 

“Oh, you like me very much, huh” 

"Lanes, I like you so much I might have to whisper to the stars about it" She climbed on top of you, admiring your astonishing eyes, your messy hair, you were absolutely adorable, " You'd whisper to the stars for me?" Your neck, face, ears all becoming inflamed with a non-stop of a lovely heart shaped inferno burning for none other than Violet Lanes. " Is that okay?" you asked, tucking a hair behind her ear, a sharp breath she took, latching her lip against her K9's, nodding eagerly. You'd pull her in for another sweet kiss, little giggles twirling in soft plush lips, that seem to have taken quite the fondness between these two, and so have your lèvre, frenching— so vigorously on that coffee table, wanting to kiss just as much as the lips from above~

ᥫ᭡

Now both in the tub sharing it, you both showered, cleaned each other, deciding together you both should take a hot bath for your legs. You sat in the warm comforting water, cupping water in your hand to pour it on her pretty breast. Watching the water run off the tips of her nipples. You were between her legs, made an excuse to be there so you could do this.  

Violet's eyes caressed you with wonder, mapping put your face, it glowed, and better had glowed after the kind of stress reducing fuck you both had. She had this thought in her mind thinking, what if I shared baths with her for the rest of my life? Wondering, what you and her futures could be like, wondering if your wrinkles could be the signs all she needs to know she’d be your best wife. She wants to see the skin that makes your eyes squint, get crows feet, not from crying but from the years that went by that she managed to have you smiling. The life that you deserve to have instead of having only moments with others. A lifetime of lifelines that connected you both again and again. 

“So.. “ you trailed off, not knowing where these words would land.

“Violet lanes.. I..” 

“Do you wanna go out with me?” She asks instead.

“Ughh, I was so ready!”  Her face matching her hair, she didn’t even think you were about to say that! She thought she was just a quick fuck.. well long fuck.. for the day and be casted aside since well— she figured she ruined everything by stepping over this line.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry you can say it!” 

“Nooo, I can’t “ you groaned, you placed your palm on your face, hiding your nose, and averting your gaze from hers as heat rises to your neck. It tickled her heart strings seeing you so bashful.. She wanted to ask you how long did you wait to say that? But it’ll have to wait another day.

“No no go ahead please,” she insisted, her arms lifting from the water reaching out for you, but you wouldn’t budge your hand from your face, she gave up, huffing out a chuckle.

You took a deep breath, removing your hand and into the water splashing, balling your fist. You gave her a serious yet not serious look. “Okay, Violet— uh, lanes.. will you go out with me?” 

“Yes!” 

“Okay!” You also shouted with joy. You put both of your hands hiding your awkward smile “fuck, now what?” A muffled sentence leaving your lips. 

“I dunno, we’re girlfriends now, we can think about that later” 

“Ah, my gosh you said it!” 

“I should be asking you for your hand in marriage after all of that”, she murmured under her breath. 

“Huh” before you could ask another question she stopped you with a kiss, a soft, pink cloud of a kiss, quirking your lips into a candied smile. 

“Nothing— I. We worry about it later. But for now, you’re mine and I’m yours” 

You bit your lip ..” ’kay..” 

Vi had stayed another night with you, couldn’t leave you after basically fucking you out of comission.. Alas she has a life! She wanted to stay longer but it was time to pick up Isha from school. She's in middle school now, top of her class, thanks to Ekko, and Jinx chiming in with the best ways to teach her. It gave Vander a break from working so hard at the bar.  It was morning time and right before she left she made you a cup of tea. 

You were sleeping, hair sprawled out on the pillow, drool dripping from your mouth. Vi pressed a hot mug up to your cheek, a soft groan coming out of you.

“Feeling stupid for fucking for so long? Hm?“  she taunted, your eyes full of sleep, still happy to see your girlfriend, fuck.. that’s your girlfriend now. You finally have a girlfriend, and its Miss lanes herself.. you wanted to scream it out to Zaun, that is yours and you belong to her.

“Yeah, I still can’t feel my legs..” you complained, rubbing your plush thigh. Vi took a seat next to you on your bed, freshly cleaned sheets, that were potent with Jamila. 

“Yeah that's what happens when you like pussy— well for you. I never done.. anything like that, nor for that long.. I mean sheesh”  She confessed, shaking her head, and trying her best not drool a reminiscent memory of how your piercings looked, and your sexy ass ricocheting against her-

“Til night til dawn..” you said, interrupting her thoughts.

“That’s how it is, the usual”  you continued, she whipped her head back to you.

“We’re going to be doing that often???” She asked her eyebrows making wrinkles on her forehead. You wanted to press those, but you could barely get up.

“No.” 

“We did that cause we’re new to each other, it was intense.. and.— we got carried away.” 

“You regret—“

“No! Hell no. I meant we were going at it like animals” 

“I did mention.. I fuck like one so— you were warned.” 

“And you’re not so bad yourself”  she continued, 

“Whats in the tea?” 

“Eucalyptus fruit.. and goji berries. Help you regain some energy” 

“Awe thank you babe” you took the warm mug in your hand, warmth embracing your fingers, taking a long sip from it, she even made sure it wasn’t too hot for you. You wanted to fucking kick your feet and holler.

ᥫ᭡

However the morning lesbianism was interrupted, her taking her leave. You had your black silk robe on, some cute pink slippers she got you last Christmas, walking her to the car. She told you to stay in bed and recover but you refused. Like the stubborn person you are. She was up against her door, as you gave her another kiss before she left to get isha. 

Lips colliding, soft murmurs of saying like you so much, both of you scared to even say ‘I love you’ just yet. Peppering more kisses on her neck, to her face, and back to her lips. She’d hold your waist, pulling you in a tight embrace, your tulip quivered at the memory from her hugging you last time. “Uh-uh, we’re not going back upstairs,” she comment, yet she’s the one lifting her leg up between your legs, “you do realize I have my robe on right? Not worried if it hikes up?” 

“Oh I know it’s not hiking up”, she embraced you closer taking a peek over you, sighing relief that it really isn’t.  “I’ll be back, okay?” 

“I know.. gonna miss you” 

“I could tell Jinx to-“ 

“Oh hell no, last time she came back with Isha, she had gave her fireworks to take to school, and you know, Isha did not give one flying fuck, about setting those off”

“Yeah…” she scratched the back of her head.

“Shit was cool though” you smacked her shoulder, barely doing anything, yet she acted as if she was in pain, quick to aid her she, grabbed you, twirling you around in the parking lot, both of you laughing, sinking into each other, you gave her another kiss. She set you down, her warmth lingering on you as the embrace came to a cease. A pout was bitten back by yourself, not wanting her to see you unfortunately ( in vi's opinion this is very fortunate) attachment to her, more than you were, those silly teasings, banter with tension... not anymore will she or won't she but definitely ᥫ᭡ . Before walking back up to your apartment, she kissed your temple, holding your neck, forehead touching yours, her signature move to silently tell you I love you. But of course, this woman of so much confidence didn't say it.. she couldn't too scared it was too soon or too late.. overthinking to the brim of her bright mind. The same problem befallen you, thinking Violet is too cool for just an I love you.. or thinking you can't just say that and you literally missed several things to do before saying. A date? when, meeting family, yes, already been between her legs and several other crevices that you oh so ravished, hell yeah, a proper date should be when you both feel like it.. Right? Maybe? Or will this be another long standing awaited line.. you've known Violet for 5 years, 2 as professionalism, the rest was history. Turned into unfolding legacies of stories to, tell one day.. one day to whomever for the girl you didn't even think would go as far as a kiss. Not to mention you hate kissing.. But for Violet.. your heart beat to her raw and powerful songs, no matter how different it beat, and so did hers. Violet's blues followed your trial of a walk, biting her knuckle to stifle a snicker at your attempt by yourself without her help... At least no one could say she didn't give you a good time. Sighing to herself, tapping her foot with excitement. She couldn’t wait to see you again. Ending the day with you on a high note. 

A/n: Hello, hello there, this is my first like seriously detailed one shot. And first erm.. adult adventure literature! I hope you had a nice time don’t forget to be drink water, and (if you’re a weed connoisseur.. make sure you take a hit for me too! ❤️‍🔥🍃) thank you! Mwah 💋 

Tags: @swaggycunts-blog and @theoreticalfreak thank you for asking to be tagged! <3

[rafesangelita]

♡ when farmer’s!daughter!reader’s father goes out of town to visit some family, her and cowboy!rafe can’t keep their hands to themselves any longer.

warnings: reader is a little bit on the shy side, flirty banter, use of petnames, implied age gap (rafe is 7-10 years older), hint of jealous!rafe, reader refers to her father as ‘daddy’, mentions of sneaking around, slowburn (kinda?), lotsss of sexual tension, fluff, mutual pining, oral (f. receiving), fingering, finger sucking, unprotected sex, dirty talk, breeding kink, cream pie, squirting, multiple orgasms

a/n: based loosely off of the moodboard + headcanons i wrote here <3 saddle up because this is a long one lol

wc: 4.8k

“you gonna keep staring at me or are you gonna help me out here?” rafe grunted, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he watched you blink away from his form. you looked up from his shirtless figure, his skin glistening with sweat as butterflies fluttered in your chest. “what do you need?” you chirped, blinking rapidly as if to shake away the thoughts of pressing wet kisses to his waistline. “a cold glass of water sounds good right now.” you obliged, rafe watching as you went up the porch stairs in your cute little boots, his eyes falling down to your backside. “fuck.” he muttered to himself.

if he knew he’d have to fight the urge to touch his boss’s pretty daughter, he would’ve hesitated in taking the job. eight months had felt like an eternity when you pranced around the farm in the prettiest dresses and shortest daisy duke shorts he’s ever seen. you came back with a glass of water, taking a sip before handing it to him. expecting rafe to turn the glass around to take a drink from the other side of the rim, your cheeks heated when he placed his mouth on the same spot your lips were on just moments ago. “thanks, sweetheart.” rafe shot you a wink, his charm making you look away shyly.

you plopped down on a nearby tree stump, a pout taking over your features as you looked at the empty driveway. your father had only been gone for a few hours, not nearly making a dent in the five days he’ll be away. “you don’t have to worry about him, y’know? he’s a strong man.” rafe decided he needed a break from being hunched over under the hood of his truck, his chest rising and falling as he took a seat on the bed of fluffy grass next to you. “i know..” you muttered, “it’s just— he’s so much older now, i worry about him.” you looked down at rafe, his eyes already trained on you.

rafe nodded. “that man can survive anything. wasn’t he in his truck when a tornado came and swept him off the ground?” you gasped, a laugh escaping your lips. “he told you that story?!” you squealed excitedly, your reaction making rafe melt into a puddle of nothing. you were too cute. “did he also tell you the part where that didn’t really happen? him and his buddy just got real close to it.” rafe’s face morphed into one of pure shock. “he lied?!” you threw your head back in laughter, a snort following shortly after. it was rafe’s turn to laugh, the sound unfamiliar to his ears.

“oh my god, excuse me. i can’t believe i just did that!” you clasped a hand over your mouth, embarrassment creeping up onto your face. the man next to you waved you off. “why would he lie about that?” rafe leaned back on his hands, giving you a full view of his chiseled abs. sighing dreamily, you shrugged. “he’s a drama queen sometimes, he likes the theatrics.” realizing that you just swooned over his muscles, rafe cleared his throat before getting back to work. he respected your father too much to give in to his filthy desires, or so he hoped.

swallowing the lump of rejection in your throat, you made your way inside where you decided to watch him from your bedroom window instead. your infatuation with this man only grew by the day, and it was becoming really hard to hide your adoration for him. all the times he slipped you a little wink when your father wasn’t looking, the playing of footsies under the table while your father ranted about the economy, the lingering stares and touches.. you weren’t crazy, you had every right to believe this man was interested in you in some way, shape, or form.

apart of you wanted to believe that rafe was trying to maintain in being a gentleman towards you, but there’s nothing you wanted more than for him to hold off all kind of honor and respect for you while he takes you however he wants. you daydreamed about being fucked in a headlock by him, along with being put into twenty other positions. letting out a sigh, you fell back on your bed, fiddling with the ribbon that was tied to the belt loop of your shorts. how on earth were you going to go about these next few days all alone with him?

night time rolled around, and rafe had just come inside for a shower. “are you hungry?” you watched as he rolled his shoulders back, cracking his neck to release some pressure of today’s labor. “yeah, but i’ll help myself. don’t worry about it, ‘sugar.” he groaned before shutting the bathroom door behind him. you knew he wouldn’t, days like this always ended in rafe knocking out as soon as he hit his bed, empty stomach or not. the only thing rafe could think about as the hot water pattered against his back, was how you were in the same house as him in nothing but a night dress.

he wondered if you’d let him hike it up your thighs.. if you’d allow him to slip his fingers underneath the soft material. so badly, he wanted to see your face twist in pleasure underneath him, he ached to see that day. rafe let out a shuddering breath, swallowing thickly as lewd images of you ran through his head. he imagined your hands trailing down his torso, those cherry red painted fingers of yours wrapped tightly around his cock. you had this man questioning everything he ever knew about being a gentlman. rafe rubbed the sides of his face, his eyes screwing shut as he attempted to get all inappropriate thoughts about you out of his head.

he remembered seeing you for the first time all those months ago. you were wearing a red gingham dress, your hair styled so pretty and neat. he knew immediately that he was in trouble when you flashed him that million dollar smile when your father introduced you two. it wasn’t long before both of you started flirting with each other, even going as far as touching each other when you didn’t have to. rafe would ‘help’ you up on your horse, his hands planted on the globes of your ass as he hoisted you onto the saddle. he swore he died and came back to life whenever you’d place a hand on him every time he made you laugh.

slowly but surely, you two were getting more bolder with your moves. while rafe was ogling your goodies more often than not, you started leaving your curtains open whenever you’d change, knowing he could see you from the view of his window. pinching the bridge of his nose, rafe quickly hurried up in the shower, feeling the need to relieve himself in his own space where he knew you’d be far away from. after washing away all the dirt and grime, he felt clean as he dried himself off, only for his peace to come crashing down when he realized he didn’t bring an extra change of clothes with him.

with no other choice but to walk out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, he tried to sneak pass you in the kitchen and out the back door, but of course he wasn’t so lucky. “i know you said you would make yourself something, but—” you turned around with a loaded dinner plate in your hand, the dish nearly slipping out of your grip when you saw the tall cowboy standing awkwardly with his hands on his hips.

your eyes trailed down his stomach, the sight of his happy trail making you swallow thickly. rafe took note of this, his heart beating in his chest as you averted your gaze elsewhere. “uhm, well i made you this.. i know it’s one of your favorites..” you placed the plate of steak and mashed potatoes on the table, turning around as you took your bottom lip between your teeth. this was absolute torture. “it looks amazing, i’ll just get some clothes on and be right back.” he held onto the towel, jogging to his place where he slipped on a pair of pajama pants and a dingy white t-shirt.

“you didn’t have to do this,” rafe took a seat at the table, his jaw ticking when you bent over the counter to grab a couple of drinking glasses, “thank you.” at this point he didn’t know if he was thanking you for the food, or the perfect view of your ass. “water?” you looked at him from over your shoulder, your cheeks heating when you saw his eyes shoot away from your backside. “a beer please.” you smiled at his answer. you should’ve known he’d pick that out after a full day of work. grabbing a bottle from the fridge, you handed it to him, his fingers brushing yours as you took a seat across from him.

“my dad makes it a lot better than i do, so—” rafe was quick to cut you off, a moan leaving his lips as he chewed. “this is.. damn!” you giggled, shaking your head. “it’s great, darlin’. truly.” he nodded approvingly, flashing you a thumbs up. you smiled that smile of yours before tasting it yourself. despite all the tension between you two, you could always count on each other to talk the other’s ear off. “wait. so you’re telling me that you’re actually from an island? why on earth would you live out in the middle of nowhere when you had the beach in your backyard?” you asked incredulously.

rafe took a swig from his beer, a bittersweet laugh leaving his lips. “i got into a ‘lotta bad shit over there. i was on some bad shit,” he sighed, “being out here brings me peace.. even if i’m breaking my back everyday.” you listened closely, giving him your full attention as he told you more about the place he was from. you learned that he used to be a filthy rich boy with a house bigger than you could ever imagine. rafe smiled softly, a solemn expression taking over his features. “it’s very nice. but i wouldn’t go back.” he leaned back in his chair.

you tilted your head at him, both of your plates empty. “no? how come?” you leaned forward, your cleavage peeking out of your neckline. eyes flickering down to your chest, rafe seemed to get flustered when he felt your foot trail up his leg. “well,” he zeroed in on your lips, “i see myself settling down out here, ‘havin some little ones.” your breath hitched, a smidge of jealousy now residing in your gut. as if he could read your mind, he caught your foot under the table, his thumb stroking your ankle. “old habits seem to die hard, huh?” rafe laughed.

pushing away the jealousy, you nodded, feeling a new profound sense of confidence with the way he was looking at you right now. “yeah, i guess i forgot we’re here all by ourselves.. ‘don’t really have to hide from anyone..” you yawned, your head falling back on your chair as your night gown rode up your thighs. just a few inches higher, and rafe would finally see what he’s been fantasizing about all this time. “yeah..” he crossed his arms, his biceps looking especially good right now. you two stayed quiet, just looking at each other as if everything was threatening to rise to the surface.

do something! you thought to yourself, hoping rafe could magically hear you and grab you from across the table. instead, he looked away, letting go of your foot before scooting out from the table. “dinner was really good, but i better head off to bed, now.” he didn’t let you say anything before he left in a haste. what. the. fuck. you got up, watching him curse to himself from the kitchen window. you couldn’t help but feel defeated. rafe was always the one pulling away from you, no matter how close you two got, he always left you high and dry.

once you cleaned everything up, and you were left lying by yourself in your bed, you decided everything would change. if he pulled away from you, surely you should do the same.

you woke up the next morning to the sound of rafe’s truck engine roaring to life. rubbing your eyes, you shielded your face from the morning sun, deciding to get your day started as soon as possible. within an hour, you were stepping outside, walking over to where rafe was smiling brightly behind the steering wheel. “i got it working, sweetheart! should we go for a ride?” damn him, he knew how much you loved to be passenger princess in his two seater-beater. you cleared your throat, already hating yourself as you said no. “i don’t think so.. i got a lot of stuff to do today.”

rafe watched you go back in the house, his jaw ticking in response. the only thing you had to do today was sit and look pretty. not to mention, for as long as rafe has been here, you never, ever, rejected going on a little drive with him. that’s how he immediately knew something wasn’t right, and he’d bet all of his money that it had something to do with last night. taking the keys out of the ignition, rafe decided that if you weren’t going to go for a ride with him, then he wasn’t going either. considering he did everything he needed to do yesterday, rafe settled for going inside to tidy up his place.

you walked around the house aimlessly, a book in your hand as you kept glancing outside to see if you could spot rafe anywhere. you didn’t. letting out a groan, you looked at the clock on the wall. it was already half past noon. you debated on whether or not you should take him some lunch, your leg bouncing as you tried to weigh out your options here. on one hand, you could bring rafe lunch, try to talk some stuff out, and on the other hand, you could just leave things be like you promised yourself you would. you knew rafe wasn’t stupid, surely he’d catch on to you soon.

just as you decided against bothering him, there was a knock at the front door. eyebrows knitting in confusion, you opened the door to see your childhood best friend, wyatt. “wyatt!” you squealed, throwing your arms around him as he pulled you close to him by your waist. “oh my, lord! when did you come back from the city?!” you welcomed him in, motioning for him to come inside. “i just finished my second semester, so i’ll be in town for a while. i drove out here just last night, ‘decided to surprise my folks.” he smiled, his expression softening once you urged him to take a seat at the kitchen table.

“i didn’t see your old man’s truck out front..” he sat down, taking his hat off and placing it on the table. “oh, yeah.. he’s out of town visiting my aunt.” you leaned back on the counter, your eyes flickering at his hair. he looked so much different now. “wow, you’re uh— you look really good.” you complimented. “yeah, i’m not lanky anymore,” wyatt laughed, “you look gorgeous as always, though.” his gaze ran down your dress, the sight of your bare thighs making him clear his throat. “well, i didn’t just want to come by and say hi, i actually wanted to ask you something—”

rafe barged in before wyatt could finish his sentence.

“who’s this?” he stared between you two, the jealousy in his blue eyes very, very evident. you smiled innocently as wyatt got up, extending a hand for rafe to shake. “hello, sir. i’m an old friend of y/n’s here, ‘was just coming to visit her.” rafe looked down at wyatt’s palm, keeping both of his hands tucked in his pockets. “well, you two might wanna hurry this up, y/n’s father doesn’t know about any visitors coming to his home.” rafe walked around him, opening the fridge for a beer. “daddy isn’t home though, isn’t he?” you spoke up, in which rafe turned around. “what was that?” he asked.

you two were glaring at each other now. “my dad isn’t here,” you repeated, “and besides, he knows wyatt. ‘thinks of him as a son, right?” rafe’s grip on his beer bottle tightened, a smile playing on his lips when he glanced over at your friend. “yeah.” wyatt nodded. rafe was seeing red, he couldn’t stand to look at you and wyatt standing so close to each other any longer. turning around, rafe listened in as wyatt asked to take you out to dinner. “aw, i would love to! what time should i be ready?”rafe shut his eyes momentarily. you said yes to wyatt too fast for his liking. “how does eight o’clock sound?”

you hummed, nodding excitedly as wyatt made his way to the front door. “alright, it’s a date then. see ‘ya!” you waved at him until his truck disappeared down the dirt road. walking back into the kitchen, rafe was staring you down as you acted like you didn’t just agree to go on a date in front of him. “what do you think you’re playing at?” he narrowed his eyes at you. “if you’re acting out because of last night—” you cut him off. “don’t talk about me ‘acting out’ when you’re the one who decided to run back to your little shed when i was giving you an open opportunity.” you cut in.

“an open opportunity to do what?” rafe’s voice was firm as he stepped closer to you, his beer long forgotten on the counter as he gripped your arm. you failed miserably at trying not to look down at his lips. “it doesn’t even matter now. you obviously don’t want it,” you softened, “don’t want me..” rafe couldn’t believe his ears. you were all that this man thought about. he woke up thinking of what pretty outfit you would wear for the day, and went to sleep wishing you were by his side. “don’t want you?” he repeated, loosening his grip on your skin. “you just have no fucking clue.” rafe stepped back.

“you’re the only thing that i want.” he laughed bitterly, shaking his head as he made his way outside to the back house. you stared at him in shock. all this time you wondered if something was wrong with you because he never made a real move to pursue you, but now all of a sudden after you agree to go on a date he wants to express how he feels? and has the nerve to walk off right after? fuck that. you pushed the back door open, the old wood slamming back against the house as rafe spun around on his heels. “so why do you walk away from me?!” you shouted, both of your chests rising and falling.

“what are you talking about?” you stepped down the stairs, shoving rafe in the chest. “why do you leave every time things start to go somewhere?” his eyes bore into yours, “i’m sick of this game of cat and mouse. have you ever thought that maybe i want you too?” those were the words rafe needed to hear before he cupped your face and dragged you off your feet. his lips were soft against your own, his calloused hands pulling you close to him as your arms wrapped around his neck. he groaned at the taste of you, his tongue slipping in your mouth before you could process what was happening.

rafe kissed you hard and slow, as if to savor you before he led you two to his place, the door barely shutting before he had you pinned to his neatly made bed. “i’ve wanted you the moment your father introduced us, that’s the truth.” he slotted himself between your thighs, cupping your tits through your dress. you moaned, his hips grinding against your clothed cunt. “why would you wait all this time then?” you whimpered when he started pressing kisses to the curve of your neck, his calloused hands feeling you up as they roamed your soft flesh. “well for starters, i have a lot of respect for your pops..”

you sighed, completely forgetting about the old man. “and?” rafe pulled the straps of your dress down until the material pooled at your waist. leaning back on his heels, rafe marveled at the sight of your bare chest, your tits looking more perfect than he imagined. “..and right now, all the respect i have is going out the door.” you cried out when he leaned down, his lips wrapping around a sensitive bud while he used his other hand to snake beneath the waistband of your panties. you blinked up at the ceiling, your hips bucking when you felt his rough fingers stroke your clit.

“that feels so good, ray.” you keened, the weight of his body providing you a sense of safety and comfort. rafe felt like he was under a spell. with your sweet voice in his ear, and his fingers working to get you soaked and ready for him, he couldn’t wait to taste you any longer. pulling away from you, rafe slid your dress and underwears off in one swift motion, a shiver running down your spine when he slowly spread your thighs apart. “you’re fuckin’ gorgeous.” he licked his lips, glancing up at your heated face. your heart bloomed in your chest, your hand finding his cheek.

“please. i’ve wanted this for eight months.” you confessed, your words sending rafe into overdrive. without another thought, rafe took your thighs and placed them on his shoulders, delving into your wetness with a groan. instinctively, your back arched up from his bed, your hands flying to rest on top of his own. you squeezed his fingers, a string of babbles falling from your lips as rafe’s tongue flicked against your sensitive bundle of nerves. rafe watched as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, your eyebrows knitting together as pure bliss etched itself onto your face.

“you okay?” rafe pressed a wet kiss to your inner thigh, wanting to make sure it wasn’t too much for you before continuing. “mhmm, yes!” you looked down, the image of rafe’s chin, lips, and even the tip of his nose glistening with your slick was now forever ingrained in your brain. smiling to himself, rafe got back to work, but this time with his fingers prodding at your entrance. “might be a bit uncomfortable at first, but i promise it’ll feel so good, baby.” you nodded, putting all your trust in him before you felt the delicious stretch of his digits inside your cunt.

“fuck!” you squealed, your thighs threatening to snap shut around his head. rafe curled his digits, your eyes screwing shut as he continuously pressed that soft spot inside of you. rafe didn’t stop his skillful movements on your clit, an unfamiliar feeling starting to swirl in your core. rafe cursed at the wet sounds emitting from your pussy, his cock hard and aching to get inside of you already. you gasped when he kept suckling on your sensitive bud, your stomach caving in when he pressed a hand to your tummy. before you could think, white hot pleasure blinded your vision, your entire body jolting as the first wave of your orgasm washed over you.

rafe felt the way you pulsed around his digits, wishing so badly that it was his cock instead. eyes flickering up to your face, he groaned when he saw the way your face twisted in pure bliss, your legs shaking as you felt the sudden urge to pull away from him. “rafe, wait!” you cried out, a sob ripping itself from your throat when a stream of wetness suddenly soaked rafe’s chin, your decadence streaming down his neck as he moaned against your cunt. you stared down at him with wide eyes, your mouth parting in suprise when he slipped his digits in his mouth.

“i- i don’t know what that was!” you gasped, cheeks heating in embarrassment. licking a final stripe up your folds, rafe smiled as he shook his head. “you just squirted, baby, get used to it.” his length rested on top of your tummy, hot and heavy, as he threaded his fingers with yours. “gonna fuck you until you’re carrying my baby..” your heart swelled, recalling his words from last night. “were you talking about me? when you said you wanted little ones..” rafe looked into your eyes, the sincerity in his gaze making you feel warm and fuzzy inside. “you’re the only woman i envision. future and present.”

cupping his face softly, you brought his lips down to meet your own, the head of his cock slipping into your entrance. you let out a shuddering breath, nodding slowly as he pushed the rest of his length inside your greedy walls. you swore you died and went to heaven when he starting rocking into you, both of you moaning in unison. “rafe?” you whimpered, gazing up at him with teary eyes, “shit— yeah, sweetheart?” the man on top of you thumbed your chin, a concerned expression taking over his features. you could tell rafe was holding back with the way he was hesitating with every thrust.

“harder, please.” you asked sweetly, rafe obliging without another thought. soon, you were a crying mess, your eyes barely staying open as rafe put you in a mating press. he was already reaching new depths in regular missionary, so when he placed your legs over his shoulders and caged you between his arms, you were hysterical as his tip kissed your cervix. “oh, god!” you screamed, your nails digging into rafe’s skin as he fucked you stupid. “can’t..” you shook your head, the feeling of his cock filling you to the hilt was increasingly becoming too much to handle.

"yes you can, sugar. look how good you're taking it all.." rafe cradled your head, making you look down at where you two were connected. you moaned at the sight, his cock shining with your slick. rafe kept his hands beneath your head, kissing you softly as his pubic bone began hitting your clit. “m’gonna make you the prettiest mommy this town has ever seen, just watch.” he chuckled, his forehead falling in the curve of your neck. you ran your fingers across his buzzed scalp, the word ‘promise?’ lingering on your tongue. “is that what you want? ‘want me to breed you until you’re all pretty and round?”

you cried out, rafe’s hips stuttering as he felt his climax creeping up on him. “yes, yes, yes—” you repeated yourself like a broken record, rafe’s name falling from your lips like a mantra. “oh, fuck!” he cursed, teeth grazing your flesh as he spilled into you, your second orgasm making you squeeze around him like a vice. rafe stilled, making sure to keep stroking your clit so he could draw out your high for as long as possible. slipping his thumb in your mouth, you shamelessly sucked on the digit as you trembled beneath him, his hot load filling you up.

you two stayed panting against each other’s mouths until your highs subsided, a light sheen of sweat coating both of your skin’s. pulling out with a grunt, rafe rolled over, pulling you with him so he could spoon you. letting out a sigh, you reveled in the warm sun streaming through his window, the light casting off of your face and illuminating the walls. “that was worth the wait, don’t you think?” if it wasn’t for the feeling of your limbs being jelly, you would’ve turned around and landed a playful smack to his chest. instead, you hummed, your eyes heavy with sleep. “we’re not keeping this from my father, rafe.”

your voice was hoarse as you spoke. “no. no, we’re not.” he kissed your shoulder. “you should probably give that guy wayne a call, ‘tell him you’re not going on that date after all.” you giggled, a shiver going down your spine as his large palm rubbed circles into your back. “wyatt, rafe. his name is wyatt. i only told him yes to rile you up.” you teased. rafe knew that, but it still pissed him off nonetheless. “i’ll cancel in a minute, ‘sir.” you used wyatt’s formalities towards rafe earlier against him, earning you a light pinch to your side. “that asshole. ‘really called me sir as if i’m that old.” he shook his head, waiting for you to disagree.

“well..” you trailed off, bursting into laughter when he attacked you with sloppy kisses.

[screampied]

just need a oneshot where toji being so extremely soft with his pregnant wife.😔

៹ content tags. ៹ fem! reader, pure fluff, toji's a big softie, calls reader 'mama' + 'baby' & 'darlin'

wc. 2.0k

toji rubs his eyes, pure static forming into his irises for a bit as he’d awaken up from his nap. with a quick glance at the clock, it read two thirty. in the background played the intro from some old western movie that was on repeat. ah, ever since you’ve gotten pregnant he’s always been staying up with you, ruining his sleep schedule in the process. not that he necessarily minded, you were his wife and he’d do anything for you,

his ears twitch a bit as he hears a sudden ruffling noise of feet — verdant eyes of his focus on you and it’s you trodding towards him and he smiles. “heyy,” he murmurs in a drowsy tone, he figured you’d be awake. toji stares at you so lovingly, the cute baby blue nightgown you wore, winnie the pooh slippers that dragged across the fleecy carpet. with a yawn, he pats his lap for you to take your seat. “y’er lil waddle never stops bein’ cute, mama.”

“stop.” you frown with a pouty look, he’d always tease whenever you do your cute little walk. he grows to adore it, the cute rounded bump on your belly only getting larger. pretty soon, you were about to reach your second trimester. time flew by so fast, it was almost like before you could blink, you’d be meeting your beloved new baby. you slowly make your way onto toji’s lap and he slings an arm around you. he smells good, you were a bit tired already from that ten second walk, cute..

“sorry baby,” toji utters in a soft voice, kissing the back of your head as you relax into his embrace, leaning back. “was gonna wake ya up but ya looked so peaceful,” and he brings a kiss near the inner crevice of your neck. “miss me already?”

you still remain with the cute glowering expression. with a sigh, you shrug. “yes, actually. missed you a lot.���

“awww,” toji caresses against your thighs, his touch was delicate and gentle. as he spoke in a gruff voice, he nips a few more kisses toward the corner of your neck as you faced the other direction. “missed you more. ‘n i missed our girl too,” and that catches you by surprise, he’d always refer to the baby’s gender as a girl. as if he could read your mind, he chuckles before leaning his head against your shoulder. “whaaat? got a feelin’ ‘s gonna be a girl.”

“i think it’s gonna be a boy,” you mumble, feeling your heart flutter a bit. oh, it was always like this between the two of you. the constant banter of the gender, toji just knew it was gonna be a girl while you thought otherwise. he’d be happy with either or though. you, likewise. toji watches with half-lidded eyes as you turn your body a bit to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck. you plant a kiss on his chin, lips brushing against his stubble and he hums in amusement. “did you get any sleep at all? you have eye bags, ‘toj.”

“ah, ‘m fine,” he grins at your concern, the scar slashed near the right side of his lip twinging in response. you were so cute—the pregnancy glow you had bestowed on you, he could stare at you all day. toji leans in to kiss your nose, yet he notices your deadpan. with a grunt, he surrenders.

“okay okay, the most i got was maybe four-ish hours,” and the look of worry on your face made his heart twist. toji pats your head, smoothening his tone. “don’t worry, baby. it was for a good cause. was up all night readin’ that book you bought like last week.”

with your brows furrowing in confusion, your lips part at your abrupt realization. “oh— the pregnancy fact book?” and then you giggle. “really? i thought you said books were boring, toji.”

“trust, they are,” he sulks, bringing his wrist to rub his eyes. you take a brief glance at his broken watch you bought him for his thirtieth birthday. despite it being unable to tell time anymore, he still flaunts it, all because it was a gift from you. with a low sigh, toji moves a few strands out of your face. “but, ‘m willing to try new things for you—er, for us. and it’s quite informative, it told me about y’er strange cravings ‘n it checks out.”

you frown. “what’s wrong with my cravings? you told me you like them.”

“well, darlin’ i love you a lot okay,” and he paints a wet kiss against your cheek. “but if i have to eat another peanut butter pickle sandwich with you, ‘m gonna lose it.”

“it’s not that bad,” you protest, bringing a palm near your stomach to rub it. the bump was easily growing as the weeks progressed—you couldn’t help but be excited once the week of forty rolled around. “you just have a bland appetite.”

toji rolls his eyes. “peanut butter and pickles, baby. not jelly, pickles. pickles?” and you look at him, he’s gently holding both of your shoulders before you giggle. “and i thought nothin’ could top the toast ‘n ice cream.”

you deadpan again. “okay now you’re just being dramatic.”

“i love you,” he boops your nose. “i love you and y’er weird food cravings,” and toji’s eyes trail down toward your tummy. so cute and round, he gingerly moves the fabric of your gown up to reveal your skin, a palm ghosting against your belly. “any cramps today? pain i should know about?”

“no,” you hum, immediately relaxing from his touch. the warmth of his hand made your breathing slow a bit. he moves it around in a smooth circular rotation before brushing a thumb against your belly button. “kinda scared toji.”

leafy, viridescent eyes meet its way back up to yours before his face softens. “what for, darlin’? good scared or bad scared?”

in a sweet, timid tone, you puff out a single shaky breath. “like … both i guess? i’m excited of course but ‘m kinda scared. we’re having a baby, toji. pretty soon i’ll be on my third trimester,” and he’s so attentive as you’re talking, quite literally getting lost in your eyes. who knew that you could turn this man into such a soft sap, he adored you. as you continue to rant, toji strokes your cheek with a warmhearted simper. “i watched lots of videos about birthing and it looks scary.”

“not gonna lie to you, baby. ‘s gonna be scary, but y’know what? ‘m gonna be right there with you,” and he strokes a thumb against the enlarging stretch marks growing against your belly. he’s gentle, tracing a finger against each one before his eyes avert back up to you. “i’ll be right beside you. holdin’ y’er hand ‘n all,” and he kisses the crown of your head. “y’er gonna be the prettiest mommy. our girl’s lucky to have you. i’m lucky to have you.”

for some reason, those last few words struck right through the veins of your heart. mentally, you promised yourself you wouldn’t cry—

but alas, your eyes start to swell up, bottom lip quivering and toji notices immensely at your change of body language.

“awww, was that too much?” he purrs, bringing you towards his chest. you sniffle, your nose digging into his neck and an arm of his cradles you. toji starts to rock you, he presses another kiss against the top of your head before humming. “didn’t mean ‘ta make ya cry, darlin’ but ‘s true. ya don’t gotta worry that pretty little head, ‘m gonna be right here for anything..”

a solid tear drops against his tank top before your chin rests against his chest. you slowly look up at him with that familiar pouty expression before he swipes a thumb against your eyes. “cutie,” he takes your tears away, your lashes all damp and long. “y’er even more emotional because of the baby too. hormones, aw yeah i know these facts by heart.”

“you’re such a dork,” you wipe your face with a laugh, the mood suddenly light again. toji was gonna be spewing out pregnancy facts at you all day, you knew that now. whilst you sat up, trying to re-collect yourself, you speak in a soft voice. “but really, thank you toji. i love you,” and you grab ahold of his hand. your fingers intertwine with his, squeezing it tight. “you’ll be a great daddy.”

“heyy girl, don’t make me cry now,” he teases, a thumb of his running across the softness of your hand.

toji’s face relaxes, the more he stares into your eyes, the more he falls more and more in love.

toji was just as excited as you, maybe even more.

he couldn’t wait to start this new milestone, this new journey with you. a baby, the two of you would be proud new parents. the thought of it alone brings a soft smile to his face before he leans in to kiss you.

you return the gesture,

closing your eyes while feeling his warm lips mash against your own. toji was so weak for you, happily so.

life was worth living for him again now that he had you and the growing baby in your stomach. once you met him, he thought he’d never move on. he was a broken man who came to the mere conclusion that he had no purpose— all until you came along. toji didn’t believe in second chances, but maybe he’d start. you were his everything, and he couldn’t have been anymore grateful to have you in his arms at this right particular moment.

after a while, the kiss departs and toji smears a thumb against your glossed lips. “you drive me crazy,” he whispers, soft jade like irises peering into yours for about fourteen seconds before he sneaks a kiss near your jaw. “oh, you just reminded me. i ordered somethin’ the other day.”

with your interest piqued, you watch as he grabs out his phone— toji opens some shopping app, swiping a thumb near the check out section before showing it to you. what you were staring at was a cute huge pink sticker for cars that displayed the words of, ‘BABY ON BOARD!’

“you’re so cute,” you lean in to hug him, finding his enthusiasm adorable. a hand of his strums against your back before he leans against the couch. “you’re really set on it being a girl though, huh?”

“yeah,” he presses his nose against yours. “or if it’s a boy, we can name ‘em toji. such a manly name.”

your eye twitches. “one of you is enough,” and he smirks, feeling your thumb play against his scar. “but toji, ‘s like the afternoon. you should go back to sleep.”

“not tired,” he shakes his head, wrapping two arms around your sweet frame. your scent had him always wanting more of you, so sweet. toji pats your back gently before his face buries into your neck. “i’d rather stay up ‘n talk with you.”

“but i was gonna go back to sleep,” you pout.

toji huffs with a smile, kissing the shell of your ear. “oh, you want me back in bed, ‘s that it? darlin’ you could have just asked.”

you blankly stare at him and he guffaws, standing up and pulling you with him. “ah, c’mon. let’s go sleep for another fifteen hours i guess,” he teases, and he helps you walk. toji gawks at your cute waddle. so cute, you felt like you had so much water stored in you. entirely full, your heels slide against the floor before you hold onto your husband’s bicep. “there we go, one step at a time.”

“i’m not a baby, toji.” you mutter, secretly feeling yourself get hot from his doting affection. he’s holding onto you and you’re holding on to him.

“y’er my baby,” he corrects, and once the two of you reach the empty bedroom filled with infant supplies and boxes of baby furniture, you take a seat on the edge of the mattress. toji towers above you as you sit, cupping your face with a sly smile. “wife,” he coos in a gentle voice, two thumbs fondling against both sides of your temples. “i love you. never forget it, yeah?”

“i .. love you too toji.”

he hums. “heh, before we sleep though. how about some pickles?” and your face lights up.

[murdockparker]

Mr. Bridgerton and the Baker

Benedict Bridgerton x Reader

Summary: Covered in flour. It is how she usually spent her days, working hard at her family's bakery. She just hadn't expected to have met him in such a state.

Word Count: 11.8k

Warnings: pining, angst, fluff, a small assault (reader gets hit, not by Benedict!), mention of pregnancy (like, literally a line or two),

A/N: Did I write an entire fic barely based on that one scene in Camp Rock where Mitchie is covered in flour? Yes. Do I regret it? No.

With the melting of snow and the promise of new starts, the social season was nearly upon the ton, nearly upon all the potential suitors and debutantes—all waiting with bated breath to secure a match this year. Of course, those in waiting were of high status, usually tied to the aristocracy or drowning in wealth beyond compare.

The others? The ones not blessed with endless funds or pure luck of royal lineage had the privilege, nay, honor to serve those who would be so fortunate. For the many, it included servicing the estates—butlers, lady’s maids, governesses, home chefs and the like. For the patrons on Tilbury Street, it included the less sought after roles, polishers, cobblers, modistes and bakeries. One bakery in particular was the prime choice for the aristocracy, a diamond in the rough as some may say. 

—

“I just simply don’t understand why we cannot have our chefs prepare the pastries for the ball,” Eloise Bridgerton nearly groaned, her arm hooked onto her mother’s. They had been walking up and down Tilbury Street for the better part of twenty minutes, simply enjoying the fresh spring weather. “I’ve never known them to make horrid dishes.”

“It’s the first Bridgerton Ball of the season, Eloise,” the dowager viscountess murmured politely. “Along with it being the first Kate has had the pleasure of hosting, putting an order in here is a fresh foot forward, one that’ll impress our guests.”

Eloise barked back a laugh. “If it is so important, why is Kate not here to make the order herself?”

“That, dear sister, is an excellent point.” Following close behind the two Bridgerton ladies was a rather tall shadow, equally as dashing and nearly as clever—Benedict—the second eldest son of the Bridgerton brood. “Surely Anthony could spare his wife for one afternoon, I can’t imagine it being so difficult to pry them from their bedroom—”

“Benedict Bridgerton!” Violet snapped, turning hot on her heels to face her son. He could only laugh.

“Oh Mother, you must relax,” he said lovingly, patting both hands on her shoulders. “You know better than I that it could have been a far fouler thought—why, I can easily imagine three other ways I could have expressed my way of thinking.”

“Ah, ever the poet, Benedict,” Eloise smiled wryly, pushing her way to the front of their clump. No one had the heart to mention the glaring fact that it was likely she didn’t know the way in which they were headed. 

“This bakery,” Violet continued half-heartedly. “Is a prestigious supplier for the ton—you may recall their exquisite cake that we had ordered for Daphne’s wedding.”

Benedict hummed contently. “It was a good cake,” he practically nodded off at the thought. The decadent sponge nearly brought him to tears—of course, it could have very well been the relief from undue stress of Daphne’s season altogether, having nearly lost his older brother to an unnecessary duel.

“I think it was far too sweet,” Eloise said, scrunching her nose in distaste. “I had to drink nearly three cups of tea to clear out the sugar on my tongue.”

“Ah, but what’s life without a little bit of sweetness?” Benedict nearly sang.

“Perfectly fulfilling,” his younger sister quipped back.

The dowager viscountess could only sigh, her eyes reaching up to the clouds above. While she loved nothing more than being the mother of all eight of her perfect children, their endless bickering and bantering grew vexing. It merely took the Bridgerton siblings another minute of arguing before stopping in front of a quaint storefront—the sickeningly sweet aroma filling the street. “We’re here.”

“I could have told you as much,” Benedict mumbled, rubbing his temple lightly. “The scent is… overpowering.” If he were lucky, the headache that was quickly forming would dull fast.

“But Benedict,” Eloise turned hot on her heels. “What’s life without a bit of sweetness?”

Violet Bridgerton was quick to catch her second eldest's hand before it met the back of Eloise’s head. “If it’s too much for you, dear,” she released her grip. “Please feel free to wait for us out here. It should only take a moment.”

“Like a ‘moment’ at the modiste?” Benedict crossed his arms, his brow nearly touching his hairline. “If I recall, the last time I accompanied you to the dressmaker, I spent over an hour basking in the summer sun.”

“Nothing logical stopped you from coming in,” Eloise drawled. “Of course, if you wanted to managed to stay pleasant with the seamstress, one should have kept it in his trousers—”   

“We’ll only be a moment,” Violet hushed Eloise quickly, grasping the top of her arm firmly. “There seems to be little wait. We’ll be on our way shortly.”

He huffed towards the sun—while there had been little heat near the start of the English spring, the sun was warm against his skin. Benedict enjoyed being outdoors more often than not, it was usually the reason he accompanied his mother on their errands nearly every other day of the season. That, of course, and the fact it got his worrying mama off of his back to be wed. With Anthony finally securing a match, it was only fitting for Violet Bridgerton to be working her way down her list of endless children—having only two of eight married off. “It should only be a moment,” Benedict reassured himself, watching various other families and couples walk by. 

That is, until he heard a rather loud bang coming from the alley beside him. He should have known better—he was taught better—than to investigate outlandish sounds, especially in town, but Benedict Bridgerton was nothing if not curious. He peeked around the corner, holding his breath, preparing to be met with a wild animal of some kind. His view was shaky at best, hardly could see a thing around the bricks. If he wanted a better look, he’d have to take a few steps towards the unusual noise. 

A large white cloud had enveloped the small alley, it was difficult to even see a few meters ahead, let alone what could have caused the loud commotion. Benedict waved his hand through the mysterious fog, trying to clear some air. “Hello?” He heard a soft squeak. An animal, it had to have been, Benedict was sure of it now. “Is anyone there?” 

A cough rang through the alley, startling him more than rogue vermin could have. The cloud had begun to dissipate, the white settling on the stone street below. Flour, if he had to guess, given the location.

“I’m alright,” a voice murmured quietly, another soft cough following quickly after. The shape of a person came into view, the air finally clearing enough for him to make sense of the scene he came upon. It was one of a woman now covered head to toe in the white powder—she had no distinguishable features, the flour was caking every bit of her body and dress. Just striking eyes that made Benedict’s heart jump to his throat. “Just… made a mess.”

“So it seems,” Benedict hummed, stepping over a pile of powder to get closer. “Do you require any help?”

“No, no,” she laughed. “I wouldn’t want you to get dirty. I fear I’ve got quite enough of that for the both of us.”

“I don’t mind getting dirty,” Benedict said quickly, his tongue moving faster than his brain. “But… yes, I suppose it’d be for the best if I refrained from getting any flour on me. May I ask how…?”

“Clumsy,” she uttered simply, the shrug of her shoulders speaking nothing but truth. “I must have the slipperiest fingers in town—I wish I could say this was the first time…”

“Manage to cover yourself in flour often?” Benedict’s lips pulled into a jesting smirk.

“Nearly every other day,” the woman sighed. “We’ve grown accustomed to purchasing an extra sack or two just for situations like these."

“I hardly doubt you could be that clumsy,” Benedict laughed, leaning against the stone wall. “But, I am painting quite the image in my head.”

“Oh I do hope I’m decent in that image, Mr. Bridgerton,” she giggled, curtsying in a near-mocking manner.

“How do you know—”

“Everyone knows your family, Mr. Bridgerton, I’d be a fool to admit I don’t know who you are—though you and your brothers all blur together, so I am merely taking a shot in the dark in which of the four you are.”

“Oh?”

She nodded once, a flurry of powder falling from her hair. A muffled shout from the back door startled her, grabbing her attention. “Ah,” the woman waved the air in front of her face, “I suppose I should take my leave—get cleaned up.”

“Of course,” Benedict said simply. “I won’t keep you.” In nearly an instant, the mysterious dusted lady disappeared from view, diving into the back door. He was taken aback by her candidness—having addressed him so forwardly without the pleasantries of a name exchange. “Damn,” he mumbled to himself, kicking residual flour off of his polished shoe, “I never asked for her name.” Would it be too forward to knock on the back door to ask for her? Benedict Bridgerton couldn’t wrap his head around the interaction—she nearly sent him into a tizzy.

“Brother?” 

Eloise stood at the end of the alley, clutch in hand, face pinched in confusion. 

“Ah, I suppose you’re finished?”

“Hardly,” Eloise scoffed, “Mother insisted on doubling the initial order ‘just to be safe’. She’ll be out in a moment.” 

“Perhaps I should go inside to accompany her—”

“And leave your unwed sister unchaperoned in this part of town?” Eloise pressed a hand to her brother’s chest, stopping him dead in his tracks. His eyes danced quickly to the street in the distance, clearly not paying any attention to his sister. “Benedict?”

“Hm?” He glanced down. “Ah, maybe we should both go back inside—”

“You’re…” she pushed on him harder, nearly sending him backwards. “Acting strange. Not terribly long ago you wanted nothing to do with this place and now, you’re dying to jump into the building that brought you so much strife?” Eloise removed her hand from him, settling it down by her side as she glanced at him up and down. The blues of his outfit were covered slightly in a white power—not enough to really notice, but enough to give the appearance of filth. “And you’re covered in… flour?”

“I don’t wish to share every moment of my day with you, dear Sister,” Benedict said simply, sighing contently. “My business is my business.”

“Business,” Eloise parroted. “Sure.”

Violet Bridgerton had finished the order quickly, mumbling something about the higher prices this time of year—she had gotten a good deal regardless. Benedict was hardly listening, for he was already planning his next trip to this very bakery, hoping to meet the girl in flour once more. 

He never did get the chance, to go back to town. His studies took up most of his free time, any other moment he had was spent with his ever-growing family. Just recently, his sister Daphne brought over her newest addition—another daughter named Belinda—who happened to be yet another spitting image of her mother. Benedict had a theory that every new Bridgerton baby will simply just inherit all the Bridgerton features, so far he had been proven correct. 

“Damn,” Benedict mumbled, violently dabbing a paint brush into his water cup, the colors swirling from the end.

He had been in his studio for the last few hours, mixing endless pigments and oils together, trying to concoct the color in his mind’s eye. It was impossible, he theorized, to create the exact shades and hues of her eyes. It was the most striking thing he remembered about her appearance—save for the copious amount of white flour caking her form—and Benedict Bridgerton had come to the conclusion that her eyes were simply forged by God Himself, a color not meant for mortal recreation.

“Why can I not…” He sighed, slumping back in his stool, paintbrush nearly hitting his trousers. “This is impossible.”

The grand clock beside the door chimed out. It was nearly time to get ready for Anthony and Kate’s ball—an occasion he was most dreading, save for enjoying the few pastries that came from the quaint bakery down in town. Reluctantly, he began to pry himself from his studio and made his way to the washroom, preparing to soak away any remnants of her.

—

“Mother,” (Y/N) chimed out, tying the serving apron to her waist, “I don’t see the reason for my attendance this evening. Surely the hosts of the event will have their own serving staff?”

“(Y/N),” her mother exasperated, throwing a towel down. “Your brothers are ill and bedridden and have been the last few days. Your father and I are counting on you to help fulfill the order, my back isn’t what it used to be, if you recall.”  

The girl sighed, her eyes rolling right up to the cracking ceiling. “How funny, it seems your back flares up nearly in time for deliveries to be made,” the girl mumbled.

“What was that?” Her mother turned quickly towards her only daughter. “I’m sure I misheard you.”

“You must have,” (Y/N) sang. “For I said I’m willing to help with the delivery, mother.”

The older woman narrowed her brow. “Never do I hear such sass from the boys… Perhaps a bit of manual labor will refocus your priorities.” 

“I already agreed,” (Y/N) reiterated. “As if I had terribly too much of a choice…”

“No,” her mother clicked, slapping the a rather large ball of dough that resided on the floured surface. “You do not. Now come, help your mother roll this out.”

She had gotten ready for the ball in record time—seeing as how she’s never gotten ready for one. (Y/N) dug through her mother’s wardrobe, finding an old and somewhat outdated green dress to wear, but it did the trick just fine. It was far nicer than the frocks she had owned anyhow, a light embroidery laced the edges and was sure to be run over by her fingertips endlessly throughout the evening.   

“The carriage is here!” Her father couldn’t have shouted louder throughout the small flat. Their home resided above the bakery, a quaint little thing with only two bedrooms—(Y/N) had the pleasure of sleeping in a rather over-glorified closet. If she reached her arms out, she’d be able to touch two of the walls easily, but like everything in her life, she made do. Unexpected child? Unexpected room. 

“I’ll be right there,” (Y/N) said, tying the now-cleaned apron around her waist, checking herself in the reflection of her water pitcher. “Damned hair,” her fingers moved to tuck a loose ringlet back into position—she had spent the better part of the evening trying to style it. 

“We need to load the carriage and make way to Bridgerton House,” her father repeated, smoothing his formalwear out. He hardly had the chance to wear it, seeing as situations like this happen only once in a while. “We must make a good impression, perhaps we’ll find more business this evening.”

“That’ll be a blessing,” her mother agreed, heading down the stairs to the bakery. “We could always use more business and the dowager viscountess is well liked around the ton, surely she’ll have pleasant things to say about our work.”

“I thought we let the pastries ‘speak for themselves’,” (Y/N) chimed in, carefully picking up a parcel. Her parents simply glared at her, allowing their daughter to silently move along with the loading process. 

The silence continued throughout the lengthy ride to Bridgerton House—the bakers not uttering a word until disembarking to unload all of the sweets. True to her original thought, the Bridgertons had their staff do the bulk of the unloading, carrying each parcel and box into the grand room that was to be the heart of the ball, all that was left to move was the elegant cake specially ordered by the dowager viscountess.

“Do you need a hand?”

“Oh, that would be—” (Y/N) turned around to the mysterious voice, only to find the same Bridgerton boy from earlier in the week standing behind her. “I—Mr. Bridgerton, I’m sure I can find my father to assist, you really don’t need to—”

“I insist,” Benedict held up his hand, effectively cutting her off. “I shouldn’t allow a lady to carry such a thing on her own, it would be most improper.”

“I’m certainly no lady,” she scoffed, readjusting her apron. “I’m not a part of your ‘season’ or whatever it is you lot do during the spring and summer months.”

Benedict barked out a laugh. “Debuted into the Marriage Mart or not, you’re still a lady and I am ever the gentleman, so please, indulge me.”

A blinding heat flushed across her cheeks—she was sure it was visible from down the street. (Y/N) stepped to the side to allow Benedict to grab ahold of one side of the tray, her hands curling around the other. “Thank you… for your help.”

“It’s no bother,” Benedict said truthfully. “I’ve been practically bored out of my skull all afternoon, this is truly the highlight of my evening.”

“Helping me carry a cake?” She asked, turning a corner carefully.

“Seeing you again,” he hummed unabashedly, noting the way her grip stiffened. “Though I must say, I think I prefer you without the flour.”

“How do you know that girl was me? I was covered head to toe.”

“Your eyes,” Benedict said simply. “They’re the most expressive and exquisite eyes I’ve had the pleasure of viewing.”

Benedict Bridgerton. The man who made her speechless.

“That, and I made a bold assumption when I saw you and the pastries arrive this evening.��� He laughed lightly, afraid to drop the masterpiece. “I assumed correctly, no?”

“You,” (Y/N) tried to allow her cheeks to cool before continuing.“Would be correct. Very wise you are, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Benedict.”

“Benedict,” she repeated softly, twisting herself to set the cake down on the table. “My apologies.”

The ballroom was grand—much nicer than any place she’d dream of residing in—delicate decorations hung from the sconces, flowers covered nearly every inch of the free space. It was, in every meaning, elegant. “This is… where you live?”

“Ah,” Benedict rubbed the back of his neck. “My brother has been kind to allow me to stay here since he married, seeing as I only have my own property in the country. But yes, this is one of the homes I grew up in.”

“One of the homes,” she repeated back to him. “And here I thought I was spoiled with my broom closet.”

He turned a vibrant shade of red. “Oh! I didn't mean to—”

Her laughter filled the ballroom, the lightness practically lifting Benedict upwards. “I was merely teasing. I’m well aware of your status and wealth, Mr. Bridgerton—” 

“Benedict.”

“Ah! Sorry,” (Y/N) felt the twinge of shame hit her chest, it was small but enough to keep her in line to avoid making the mistake again. “I meant it in jest.”

“Funny girl,” Benedict clicked, waving his finger lightly. “You’ve got quite a sense of humor.”

“Growing up with nothing more than sacks of flour and parcels of sugar allows one to get creative with her jokes,” she explained carefully, treading lightly as to not make it sound completely miserable. “Though, I think they were a better audience anyhow…”

“You wound me,” a hand grabbed his heart, knees buckling towards the ground. “Oh how the lady wounds me.”

“I believe I told you, Benedict, I certainly am no lady.”

“Well, the lady has neglected to give me her name,” he peeked up from the floor—having found quite a cozy position. “So how else should I address such a fair maiden?”

“Fair maiden,” she scoffed playfully, voice barely above a whisper. “Certainly am nothing close to a maiden… but, if you must know,” she paused, “my name is (Y/N), (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“(Y/N)…” Benedict repeated it, mostly to himself. He rose from the floor, eyes not leaving her own. “What a beautiful name.”

“I—thank you. I suppose you should give my parents such a compliment, though. I am simply the recipient of such a gift.”

“Well, when I ask your parents for permission to court their daughter, I’ll pass the message along.”

She froze. 

“Ah, what was that?”

“I hate to be so bold,” Benedict sighed, shoving a hand into his pocket. “But I feel the need to let you know of my intentions—my interest in you.”

“Oh you must be mistaken,” (Y/N) shook her head. “You’d want nothing to do with a girl like me. Surely there are other women in the ton who strike your fancy?”

“Nope,” he said simply. “Not a one. You, on the other hand, with your striking eyes and seemingly endless beauty, piqued my interest. If I may be honest, I haven’t stopped thinking about our encounter in the alley—it’s been on the forefront of my mind for days.”

She blinked, the gears in her head trying to keep up with the words Benedict was speaking. “But I am not from your world, Benedict. Even if I was interested in pursuing a courtship—”

“Are you not?” His eyes struck wide open. “I’m quite the catch, you see. Well-bred, scholarly and, if I might say so myself, I’m quite the talented artist. Easy on the eyes, too.”

“Benedict.” He stopped and looked at the woman. She was practically glowing in the candlelight. “While I’m not saying I’m… not interested, I can’t help but feel like you are infatuated with the idea of me and not… me.”

“How do you mean?”

She laughed humorlessly. “You don’t know me, truly. My likes, dislikes, how I take my tea, what weather I fancy—”

“See,” Benedict grabbed her hand, “I wish to know those things. Is that not the purpose of a courtship?”

“I am not from your world, Benedict. I have priorities, a duty to my family and our business—I can’t spend a moment thinking of the frivolity of a courtship with a man of your status.”

“But if I were, say, the butcher’s son it would be different?”

“Yes,” she removed her hand from his. “Of course it would be. I’m surprised you haven’t thought this through.”

“I have been thinking it through since we’ve met,” Benedict nearly spat, feeling anger bubble up in his chest. “I am not the type of man who wishes to court just anyone, you know.”

“So you wish to court me just because you can? Because how ever could I say no?”

“I—of course not!”

“We’re perfect strangers who shared a moment—albeit an endearing one—out in the middle of an alley. We both cleaned up and went about our lives,” she shook her head. “Nothing cosmic or magical about it.”

“I did not expect you to be so against the idea, unless… there’s another man of your affections?”

She groaned, pinching her nose. “No. No other man. Has a woman ever said no to you before, Mr. Bridgerton?”

He paused, clearly taken aback.

“Well,” she smoothed the tablecloth, the wrinkle in the bottom corner was annoying her, “let me be the first, then. No, I am not interested in a courtship, nor do I think I have any interest in a courtship—with you or anyone—so do not take it terribly too personally.” 

“Never? Don’t you plan to have a family of your own?”

“I already have a family,” she said simply. “I have no time for foolish ideas of having an adoring husband, three beautiful babies and a peaceful life out in the country.”

“That seems awfully specific—”

“No matter,” she waved. “Thank you for your interest, Mr. Bridgerton, I am flattered, truly.”

She walked away, hoping to hide in the carriage the rest of the night. Was she a fool? To turn down a courtship from such a sophisticated and notable man of the ton?

Benedict seemed to think so. True to her comment, he couldn’t recall a time in which a woman had rejected his advances—never in the name of a courtship, this would be his first—so to watch her walk away stung deeply, like a thorn to his heart. He was genuinely interested in the girl, he knew it. He just needed to prove it to her.

—

Days had passed since the Bridgerton ball and (Y/N) had successfully faked a stomach ache and ‘rested’ in the carriage until the night was over and done with. She was busy in the kitchen, working hard on a batch of fresh loaves for the storefront. Flour dusted her apron—the humor not lost on her—as she thought more and more about Benedict’s proposal. 

The bell to the shop rang out, her brother’s voice gave a muffled greeting, nothing out of the ordinary for a regular day at the bakery. It was calming, to work with the dough, taking virtually nothing and creating something delicious was soothing to her soul. She continued to knead the dough, working it like clay against her palms before the door to the back swung wide open.

“(Y/N), I do believe you have a visitor,” Harry, her second eldest brother smirked. He had finally recovered enough to help around the shop again, much to their mother’s delight. “One of the gentlemen variety, if you must know.”  

She stopped dead in her tracks.

“Did he give you a name?”

“Only asked for you,” Harry shrugged. “I figured you must’ve been expecting him,” he walked closer to her, taking over the kneading, “brought you flowers and looks rather fancy.”

She wiped her hands off on the already soiled apron, clapping her hands once for good measure. “Don’t over-work those, I’ll shove your face into the oven.”

Harry’s laugh rang out through the kitchen as she braved the door to the store. She knew it was inevitable, to expect him to come and try to woo her again, though she wasn’t expecting it so soon. The door felt rough against her palms, swinging wide open to the storefront. Sure enough, a one Benedict Bridgerton was standing by the counter, eyeing the various loaves on display. 

“Ah, Miss. (Y/L/N),” Benedict said, almost bowing. “I’m delighted you could join me.”

“Mr. Bridgerton,” (Y/N) smiled sickeningly sweet, forced beyond all measure. “What a… surprise.”

“A wonderful one, I presume?” He jested. Her eyes found the colorful bouquet quickly, she was trying her hardest to not make eye contact. It was ornate—fancy, just like her brother said—decked out in a healthy mix of wild blooms and expensive looking flowers. “Ah! My apologies, these are for you,” Benedict said, lifting the bouquet across the counter. 

She reluctantly took them, cradling the bunch as if it were a newborn babe. “Thank you, Mr. Bridgerton.”

He swallowed thickly at the formality of his name, but bit his tongue. “I must say, you looked exquisite at the ball, but I think your natural element suits you more favorably, why, you’re practically glowing.” Benedict pointed to her floured apron and messy frock, having been in the kitchen all morning. “Less flour than the first time.”

Her grip tightened around the bouquet. “Is there anything I can help you with? Perhaps another order for your mother?”

The man shook his head, laughing lightly. “No, no order. I just wished to see you.” The bluntness of his answer nearly shocked her, but the effect wore quickly.

“Perhaps I wished the opposite?”

“Oh, my dear,” Benedict practically mewled. “If that were true, you wouldn’t have come out here in the first place, now would you?”

Like a gaping trout, she had no reply. Perhaps he was right. She didn’t have to come out to the front of the store, the gnawing curiosity got the better of her and practically pulled her through that door. 

“If you are here to try to get me to change my mind—”

“I wish to spend the afternoon with you.”

She blinked.

“Just one afternoon, allow me to try and prove how serious I am about courting you,” Benedict said earnestly. “After that, if you are still of the same mind, I will never bother you again. You have my word.”

Hesitantly, she lowered the bouquet, her shoulders slumping. She was thinking so hard about his offer, Benedict swore he could see steam rising from her ears. “I… cannot just leave the bakery, it’s my family’s livelihood—”

“I’ll buy the lot,” Benedict said, pressing a handful of coins onto the counter top. “Sell me whatever it is you make in a day—a small price to pay for a moment of your time.”

“You cannot simply throw your money at things and expect it to always work out for you, Mr. Bridgerton,” she said sternly, eyeing the sack of coins longingly. She would be kidding herself if the offer didn’t sound appealing. “I am no woman on the corner, you cannot buy my time.”

“Then consider it a tip,” Benedict hummed, pushing the bag closer to her. “For your excellent service at the Bridgerton ball. Nothing nefarious, nothing expected of you. Just a man buying some bread.”

“Loads of bread,” (Y/N) mumbled, quickly calculating how many loaves he truly was willing to walk out with. The amount of money was unclear, but if she had to wager, he practically bought out the whole storefront. Her parents would be thrilled—they could even take a rare day off, just because their daughter spent the afternoon with a practical stranger. “Fine. One afternoon.”

The glee that washed across his body did not go unnoticed, he practically lit up the room with his joy.

“You won’t regret this,” he said seriously. “Trust that my intentions are pure and—”

“—honest and true,” she droned, finishing his thought. “Yes, yes, I understand.”

Benedict nodded. “Right. Well, shall we?”

“Will you allow me a moment to change? I do not think you wish to spend your day with a girl caked in flour.”

“Funny enough, I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he grinned. She was unamused. “But, if you insist.”

It didn’t take long for her to clean up, a change in her frock and a readjustment to her hair was all that was needed. She found herself staring in her mirror a bit longer than usual, taking in her features. Could he really be interested in her? He seemed so taken by her looks when she herself considered them… so plain. She shook her head, effectively jumping out of her haze and proceeded to head back downstairs to meet her suitor for the afternoon. 

“Perhaps you were right,” Benedict said softly. “This may be your best look to date.”

A heat warmed her cheeks and it wasn’t the summer sun. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Bridgerton—” 

“Ah!” Benedict waved a finger. “If we are to spend the afternoon together, I insist you call me by my given name.”

Her lips pressed together in protest. “If you insist—”

“Oh and I do, my darling,” Benedict nearly sang.

“Benedict,” she corrected. “What sorts of plans do you have for this afternoon? Surely you did not produce such a grand gesture only to leave our day up to chance.”

“I am feeling quite parched,” Benedict said, almost ignoring her comment. “Care for a spot of tea?” In their walk down the street, he had managed to stop right in front of a quaint little tea shop. She hardly noticed.

“And if I do not care for tea?”

“I hear they have excellent scones and biscuits,” Benedict countered. “Surely not sweeter than you, but delicious all the same.”

“Sweeter than my scones, you mean?”

Benedict raised a brow, puckering his lips lightly. She heard him correctly the first time. “So. Tea?”

They sat at a small table near the back of the shop, a hot pot of herbal tea sat between them. It looked entirely domestic, a pot of tea shared between lovers, any onlooker could have deduced as much.

“Pass the honey?” (Y/N) pointed to the small jar next to Benedict’s hand. He nodded and pushed it closer to her.

“You take your tea with honey?” He probed.

“Herbal tea, yes,” she confirmed, stirring a spoonful into her cup. “If it is black tea, a healthy amount of milk is entirely welcomed in my drink, no sugar.”

“Interesting,” Benedict said, watching her intently stir the honey until it dissolved into the hot liquid. “I prefer plain black tea myself, though occasionally my brother Colin will bring exquisite teas from his travels across the seas.”

“And Colin is which brother?” The question slipped out quickly, she hardly noticed she had asked.

“One of my two younger brothers,” Benedict smiled gently. “Not much younger than I, but I do have a few years on him, not as many as I have on Gregory, of course. He’s practically the babe of the family—save for sweet Hyacinth.”

“Eight children…” She thought aloud. “Were your parents working towards a record number?”

“I always jest that they wished to complete the entire alphabet,” Benedict mused. “But, alas, twenty six seems a bit much.” He took a sip of his tea, enjoying the lingering aroma. “So, you know there are eight of us?”

“Everyone knows your family,” she said simply. “Do not flatter yourself.”

“Of course,” he hummed into his cup, a smile brewing from his lips. “You have siblings, yes? I believe I met your brother earlier.”

“Two older brothers,” (Y/N) groaned lightly. “Jack and Harry, the latter being the one you met. They are… oh how do I put this? Exceptionally irritating.”

Benedict laughed into his drink. “Sounds quite a lot like my siblings.”

“My parents expect Jack to take over the bakery,” she explained quietly, her voice lowering. “But he has no desire to bake whatsoever. He can hardly make a sponge cake.”

“And a sponge cake is…?”

“One of the most basic cake recipes a baker can learn,” she continued. “I usually end up being the one who pulls the slack Jack creates.”

“And Harry?”

“When he isn’t galavanting across town with the ladies of the night, he is holed up in his room doing Lord knows what. Certainly nothing that helps the family business.”

“You care a lot about your family and the business,” Benedict said, stating what is clearly the obvious. “Surely your parents see it too?”

“Oh no,” she shook her head wildly. “That is the most asinine part of the ordeal! They simply do not see me as an asset to the bakery—something that should rightfully be mine should the time come.” She sighed, throwing her head into her hands. “But, I am expected to keep my head down and decorate cakes like a good girl.”

“You say that as if you are their pet,” Benedict scoffed lightly. “Do they truly expect such obedience from you?”

“I wasn’t wanted,” she said simply. “My parents merely wanted a son to take over the business—Jack, he’s the oldest. Good for nothing, as it turns out. Harry was to have an extra set of hands around the bakery, but now he’s their prodigal child. Me? I was shacked with an over glorified closet for a room because there truly was no space for me.” She sniffled. “At least they got a decorator out of it.”

Benedict tentatively put his hand on her shoulder, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “You’re more than a decorator. Surely your parents see that too?”

“They’ll see some use of me when I get home,” she said into her cup. “Seeing as you bought out our store just to spend a measly few hours with me. I’m sure that in of itself is worth having an accidental daughter.”

Benedict all but scoffed at this. “You cannot be serious.”

“Not everyone comes from loving families that wish to do nothing more than pop out babies left and right,” (Y/N) deadpanned, placing her cup back on the table. “If it were truly up to my parents, they would’ve stopped after Jack. But, much like the society you come from, an heir and a spare, I suppose.”

“And you?” Benedict almost felt afraid to ask. 

“It’s like you said,” she finished her cup of tea. “I am simply a pet.”

Benedict was never one for fights, but he suddenly had the urge to put his fist through a handful of faces in that moment. “That’s awful.” It was all he could say. 

“That’s life,” she shrugged, picking up a biscuit and examining it closely. Her nose scrunched. “If you were trying to gain my favor, perhaps you should’ve taken me somewhere with better biscuits. It’s insulting to a baker to see such poorly made ones, especially in a place like this.”

He knew she was trying to change the subject. “I shall do better next time.”

“Yes, I suppose you—” she stopped. “That was a rotten trick and you know it.”

“I am certainly no magician, (Y/N),” Benedict finished his tea, hiding the most devilish of smiles from behind the cup. “But seeing as we’re finished with our pot, perhaps we can take a turn about the park?”

“You’d risk public outcry and a scandal for being seen with a commoner in the park?” (Y/N) asked, pulling herself from her seat. “What would Lady Whistledown say?”

“You know of Lady Whistledown?”

“Everyone knows of Lady Whistledown,” she scoffs. “I may not have the pleasure to afford her column every time she publishes, but occasionally our regulars will leave their pamphlet for me once they’re finished.”

“Only read the good bits, I take it?”

“As much as I don’t understand the world you come from, Benedict, reading Whistledown helps me fill the gaps I am so obviously lacking. Truly, even if I did grow up in your society, I doubt I’d be able to understand much more than I do now anyway.”

“I reckon you’re right,” Benedict said, a laugh escaping through his nose. “I’m not one for society anyway—never cared much for it.”

“Surely news of this would cause a scandal, though?”

“News that I am simply walking in the park with a friend? Oh how the newsboys will have trouble selling that story,” Benedict mused, leaning down towards the lady. “Perhaps if we were seen doing something less proper, I suppose. Do you wish to be doing something less proper, (Y/N)?”

She didn’t dignify his question with a response, though, the rouge on her cheeks was answer enough.

—

It only took a handful of minutes to walk to the park, the tea shop was so close already. How convenient.

The other ladies in the park, the ones of a more genteel breeding, they were dressed finer than anything (Y/N) could have put on. She felt out of place. She usually did, of course, but something about her outdated frock in contrast to how striking Benedict looked and dressed? It felt rather foolish. 

Perhaps it was the notoriety of the Bridgerton walking beside her, or the self consciousness of being underdressed enough to catch the eyes of anyone walking past, but it felt like she was a spectacle—something in a museum or on display. She was holding bright light, nearly shouting at everyone that she was not enough, not worthy to be in this park, let alone with this man.

“I am tired of walking,” (Y/N) said suddenly. 

“We have only just begun,” he laughed. “But if you require a respite—”

“Let’s sit,” (Y/N) said just as quickly, practically running to the edge of the pond. Perfectly out of sight to everyone.

“How secluded,” Benedict mused. “I daresay, I never thought you’d be so agreeable—”

“Hush,” (Y/N) admonished, holding a finger up. “I am simply in need of a break—away from prying eyes.”

Benedict nodded, not daring to pry further. He watched her slump to the ground, her dress skirt billowing around her like a cloud before settling to the gravity. He continued to stand. “I rather like this park.”

“A park is a park.”

“Have you been before?”

“Here?” She shook her head. “Obviously not.”

“My family, we would come to London during the social season,” Benedict explained. “Our usual residence is out in Kent—anyhow, my father had this spectacular notion to come to the park every week as a family. Looking back, it was probably to save face and show a united Bridgerton front.”

She looked up at Benedict, who was currently plucking a few leaves off of the low hanging branches of the tree. “Sounds wise.”

“He was the wisest,” Benedict agreed. “Keeping the ever-growing number of Bridgerton children entertained became a sport. Anthony, Colin and I were always squabbling, drove my mother rightfully insane, so, my father had a bright idea.”

“Paste your lips together?” She offered. 

Benedict knelt down, close to the edge of the water. “No, but I do not doubt that idea crossed their minds,” he laughed, bringing the leaves in his hands to view, “my father suggested racing.”

“Horse racing?”

He shook his head. “We’d each pick a leaf and follow it to the other edge of the pond—kept us entertained for hours, running back and forth to reset our leaves and chase them down.”

“Smart man,” she hummed, genuinely impressed by the late viscount’s cleverness.

“So, pick your contender,” Benedict said softly, displaying the spare leaves like cards in a deck. 

“You are serious?”

“Dead serious, I’m afraid,” Benedict clicked, pushing his hand a bit closer to her. “Come on, humor me.”

She looked down at the leaves and back up at Benedict, his blue eyes rivaling the color of the pond. Taking an interest in the middle leaf—it was the longest and skinniest—she plucked it from his fingers. “This one.”

“Excellent choice,” Benedict said cheerily, dropping the other leaves. “I am more inclined to a smaller one—seems they move faster down the shore.”

“Size isn’t everything, Mr. Bridgerton,” (Y/N) crossed her arms, resting them on her knees. She would never dare to admit it out loud, but she was having a bit of fun.

“Ah, perhaps not,” Benedict jested with her, her jab not even shocking him in the slightest. “But, I reckon it will be a close match regardless.”

After insuring that the lovely lady in his company was watching his movements closely, he set the leaves down on the surface of the water. “Finish line is by that tree over there,” he pointed, finally letting go with his other hand.

“May the best leaf win,” she giggled. Giggled? Good Lord. A crooked grin cracked on his face, focused too intently at the company rather than the match at hand. “Are you not going to chase them?”

“And leave you?” He scoffed. “Perish the thought.”

“I just thought,” her gaze was caught on the leaves, still floating down the edge of the pond—slower than she anticipated, “well, I suppose I wanted to get the whole picture of your family tradition.”

“Shall I run along the coast, then?” Benedict asked playfully, rising back to his feet, thumb pushed towards the water. 

“Only to humor me,” she shrugged, not even fighting the smile on her face. 

“Well, in that case,” Benedict began to remove his jacket, throwing it beside her. With a light jog he caught up to the leaves, they hadn’t gone very far anyway, perhaps if it were a windier day he’d have a faster time to keep up with. “You are in the lead!” He called out. 

“Brilliant!” Her hands were clasped around her mouth, a cone to help amplify her shout. His smile was like the sun, warm and inviting—she wished she could spend the day in such a warmth. Benedict practically jumped for joy when the leaves made it to the final stretch, crossing to the rocks on the shore. Nearly falling into the water, he managed to scoop the leaves up and jog back to the woman in the grass. “Well?”

“Well, what?” He asked, nearly out of breath, smile still pulling his lips upward. 

“The winner?”

“Ah,” he fell to the ground, sitting comfortably next to the baker’s daughter, pocketing the leaves. “A secret.”

“So you lost?”

“Oh, I assure you, if you won I would be celebrating you until the end of our time together,” Benedict sang. “However…”

“I lost?” She scoffed. 

“A gentleman is humble in his successes,” he explained carefully. “We could go again?”

“No,” she said, humor in her voice. “I think that was more than enough excitement for one afternoon.”

“For once, we agree,” he said. “May I…? Could I ask you a question?”

“If you are proposing marriage, I am afraid I’ll have to decline—”

“No, no,” he laughed heartily. “Nothing of that sort.”

“I suppose I could find it in myself to answer a different question, then.”

“You were cold to me this morning,” Benedict noted, twirling a blade of grass between his fingers. “But not on the day we met. What changed?”

She sighed, pulling her knees to her chest, gaze locked out on the now setting sun. “I… am not entirely sure.”

“Surely it was not the leaves—”

“The leaves may have helped,” she admitted. “Humanized you, in a way.”

“Was I inhuman before?”

“Naturally,” she retorted. “I mean, is it not obvious?”

“You were protecting your feelings,” Benedict finally realized. “All this time. You did not wish to be hurt—truly afraid I was merely stringing you along as an elaborate prank or ruse? Is that right?”

“How could someone like you ever have an interest in a pauper like me? The baker’s daughter and the son of a viscount?” Tears dotted her eyes, threatening to fall. How she came so close to crying was beyond her. “It seems implausible.”

Benedict dropped the grass, fully looking at the lady beside him. She had made herself nearly as small as she felt. He had hit the nail on the head. A gust of wind blew by, bringing leaves down from the tree above. 

“I do not think less of you because of whose daughter you are,” Benedict said softly, removing a stray leaf from her hair. His fingers guided her head towards him, begging for her to look his way. “I care only about you. Getting to know you. Frankly, your father seems like a mostly alright man, but I do not wish to know him the way I wish to know you.”

“You may wish for that,” she sniffled. “But what would the rest of your world think? You, trying to court a woman below your status—”

“The only people who should be caring so deeply about my potential courtship are my intended and me,” Benedict said sharply. “The rest of the ton can frankly kiss my rear end.”

This raised a laugh out of her. It was bubbly and pure, almost like the one of a child. “You truly don’t care what people think about you?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I do not.”

“How freeing that must be,” she said. 

“Being the second son has its perks,” Benedict looked at her, really looked at her. “No one expects me to be proper all the time. I am given the freedom—financially and otherwise—to do as I please. I do not have to worry about inheriting a title, siring heirs, that is my brother’s responsibility.”

“Why me?”

His head quirked. “I do not understand?”

“You could court any girl of the ton,” she said. “And I am sure more than half of them would never turn down a chance to be courted by a Bridgerton—”

“They wished for the title,” Benedict sighed. “To be Viscountess Bridgerton, to marry my older brother and have the notoriety. That ship has already sailed, I'm afraid. You are kind in thinking that many women would be after me though.”

“You are not ugly,” she listed, “you have a great humor about you, a pleasant demeanor and a kindness in your eyes. The women of the ton must be foolish, then.”

“Perhaps the foolish one is you?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You truly think those things about me?” He asked, awaiting a response. Her jaw was slack, clearly not about to give him any sort of confirmation to his question. “I believe your words, I do. But perhaps you should look at yourself with such eyes?”

“I-I don’t understand—”

“Our class differences aside,” Benedict said, as if it was easy to just ignore that, “while I was taken by your beauty at first—your eyes are something the Gods themselves forged in the fires, stars rivaling their shine—it was your continuous personality that kept my attention. Granted, it helped you were once covered head-to-toe in flour, it really brought out your features.”

Her cheeks flared at the recollection of their first meeting. “It was not my finest moment.”

“And you were vulnerable all the same,” he continued. “You cared not for who I was, yet, you showed an interest in me anyway. You may not agree with that statement, but you and I know it to be true in some shape or form. The only thing that holds you back is this notion on our classes—”

“Perhaps I am interested in you,” (Y/N) cut him off. “Perhaps I wish to be courted by you, attend balls and dress in pretty gowns, drinking expensive drinks and whispering sweet nothings. But that is all that it is—a wish. I know my place in this world, it is a right shame you have such a fantasy about yours.”

“(Y/N)…”

“No,” she stood up, brushing the blades of grass and leaves off of her skirt. “I hoped that you would understand, Benedict. I agreed to this afternoon because it felt like I had no choice in the matter—you practically bought my time, after all. What I did not expect,” she hiccuped, “I did not expect that I would enjoy such an afternoon.”

“You enjoyed yourself,” Benedict rose to his feet, desperate to match her gaze head on. “Why can you not allow yourself to have that joy? Allow your heart to follow its call?”

“I do not have such liberties to listen to my heart,” (Y/N) said softly. “I must use my head for every choice I make. An afternoon with you allowed my family to have enough money to make it through the end of the season without going hungry—”

“And an afternoon with me has brought such happiness to fill your soul for much longer—”

“Happiness has little importance,” she scoffed. “I would rather see my family healthy and surviving than even think about a notion like happiness or joy.”

“You have said yourself that your family treats you like a pet,” Benedict took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure. He needn’t explode in the park. “Why do you care so much about them if they care so little for you?”

“Because it is all that I know!” The candle had finally reached its end, burning out with a sizzle. “All I have ever known is my life in the bakery, rising early to make the dough, peddling samples to those walking by and hoping—praying—that they step in our store and purchase something. Because a sale of a few loaves of bread or cakes meant we could afford to buy vegetables for a soup, something to eat with our days old bread.”

“If you were with me, you wouldn’t ever need to think about things like that again,” Benedict said, his voice wavering on a whisper. “I could support you, support your family.”

“And that is precisely why I do not wish to continue this,” she raised her finger. “I do not need an affluent man to come and save me—”

“But I could help—”

“I do not need your help!”

“You obviously do!”

She took a step back, the tears from before finally reappearing in her eyes. “O-obviously? Because I am of a lower class you believe, in that giant and empty head of yours, that you can simply win my favor by saving me? Offering riches and experiences that I should be grateful and thanking every God that will listen that you are even willing to give me?”

“You know that is not what I meant—” 

“You believe that because you are who you are, and I am who I am, that I couldn’t possibly say no to you,” her gaze flicked with anger, a fire looming. “While the ladies of the ton have their choices, I do not, so it makes it easy for you to pine over someone who simply has no choice in the matter.”

“No—(Y/N)—”  

“This afternoon has been lovely,” (Y/N) spat, looking to the skyline—the sun had finally set, “but I am afraid that the afternoon is over. I shall be taking my leave.”

“Please reconsider,” Benedict begged, willing to try anything to get her to stay. “I wish to know you.”

“A shame, then,” (Y/N) said, turning around. “Wishing for something so foolish.”

—

“Her head is in the clouds,” Jack whispered.

“No, I reckon her head is in the dough,” Harry mumbled back to his brother. 

“I can hear you, you know,” (Y/N) ground out, working hard on a rather unruly clump of dough that simply would not cooperate. “And if I can hear you, you are close enough to be helping.”

“But that is so exhausting," Harry groaned, leaning against the countertop. “Besides, how are you ever going to impress your betrothed if you do not keep such toned arms?”

She threw the dough against the counter—hard. “He is not my betrothed.”

“But you wish for him to be, no?” Jack giggled, playing with a few burnt buns—a mishap of his own creation.

“I say, Sister,” Harry said. “Why do you not pursue that Bridgerton? He clearly is interested in you, or, have you forgotten all of the flowers he has sent?”

The front of the shop was practically a florist’s dream—covering every free inch of counter space with beautiful bouquets. Her mother simply refused to throw out such lovely blooms, even going so far as to fish the first one out of the trash after her daughter made quick work to dispose of it. “How could I possibly forget about the man who continuously flaunts his wealth to get what he wants?”

“He wants you, surely that is not lost on you?”

“Of course not,” she continued to knead, a few hairs falling into her face. “But he is so insistent on getting me to agree to his whims simply because—”

“He has money, (Y/N),” Jack scoffed. “Good money. Christ, you spent half of a day with him a few weeks ago and we were able to finally purchase meat for dinner. Imagine if you married him—”

“So you want your sister to be married off for your own financial gain?”

“What else would you marry for?” Harry laughed. “Love?”

She stopped kneading. “Why do you not go and try to marry a wealthy lady, then? Hm? Surely a woman of genteel breeding would be much taken by the idea of a rugged baker—”

“That Bridgerton is already interested,” Harry shrugged. “At the very least, if you end up with child he would provide enough funds—”

“First you wish to marry me off, now you wish for me to have his bastard?” She couldn’t help but laugh, ignoring her hard work on the counter. “Why can I not make my own choice? I do not wish to be with Mr. Bridgerton, I wish to stay here at the bakery.”

“Fucking stupid,” Jack scoffed. “If I were in your shoes, I would let the gentleman pay for anything my heart desires—forget about this wretched place and move on with my life.”

“And abandon our legacy?”

“You mean my legacy,” Jack corrected. “I am to inherit the bakery, it is my birthright. You? I suppose I will allow you to continue your grunt work here—” 

“Who else will do the baking?” Her voice rang throughout the kitchen. “Mother and Father are nearing the end of their career, both becoming too frail to continue with the rigorous task of this place. I am the only one—the only competent member of this family who can keep this shit afloat! And you want me to just… give that up?”

Jack stood a little straighter. “It was never your place.”

“Harry is set to inherit the bakery now, you know it. Yet someone had to fill the shoes of the family fuck-up instead, no?” 

It was a sharp pain, suddenly and all at once against her cheek. It took her only half a second later to realize what had happened, her other brother’s face was only a confirmation on the fact.

“Jack, what the hell?!” Harry practically screamed. “You hit her?”

“She insulted me!”

“You deserved it,” Harry said, pushing his older brother back. “She only spoke the truth—”

“So I am allowed to be walked over by my baby sister?” Jack scoffed, pushing Harry back. “A woman? No fucking chance, mate.”

Her hand had covered her cheek, already feeling warm to the touch. Everything was too much, too loud, too bright. She had to get out of there, had to forget all about the dough on the counter, forgetting all about the brother who had just smacked her silly. The back door wasn’t locked—no surprise as Jack was the last one to use it—making it easy for her to push into the alleyway and into the rain. 

Rain. 

Pelting like bullets, the wet drenched her clothing in a mere instant, making it harder to escape. Where had she planned to run anyway? She had nowhere to go, her entire world was contained to the four walls of the bakery, never daring to explore the rest of it, not when her world was already so encompassing, so inviting. 

In theory, anyway, it seemed.

So, she ran. A mix of running and walking, she kept moving forward. By the time she left her part of town, she knew her brothers would not bother coming for her. The rain alone was a deterrent, even Harry, the one who loved her more, wouldn’t dare to brave the elements just to reel his sister’s whims in. 

A splotch of purple entered her vision. How long had she been moving? Did she even expect to come here? Did her subconscious send her in this direction for a reason?

She knocked on the bright door before she could find out.

“Good evening, ma’am,” a butter said politely. “What business do you have?”

“I am here to call upon Benedict Bridgerton.”

—

His quill had soaked the parchment below with ink, having left the tip upon it for far too long. He had been lost in thought, contemplative, especially the last few weeks. Benedict knew he had hurt her, had insulted her very being, yet he still tried. Every other day he’d send a fresh bouquet to the bakery, a new poem attached to the stems. Perhaps she read them? He knew it was more likely that she burned them, in the ovens or otherwise. 

At the very least, he knew that the blooms were being displayed at the shop. Hope. That is what it had given him.

“Mr. Bridgerton, you have a caller,” a butler knocked, opening his door a crack wider.

“A caller? In this weather?”

“She seemed rather insistent,” the butler shrugged. “She is waiting in the drawing room—I already sent for tea and towels for the lady.”

“A lady is here to see me?” Benedict quirked his brow.

“A Miss. (Y/L/N),” the butler said. “No calling card, soaked to the bone and she seemed a bit… out of sorts.”

Benedict had already risen from his desk, practically pushing past the staff member to reach the stairs. Missing a step or two, he made it to the drawing room and shoved the door open. In the center of the blue room was (Y/N), dripping onto the wooden floor, shaking like a leaf.

“(Y/N)…” 

“I-I had nowhere else to go,” she began to explain. “I did not even realize I was here until I knocked on the door. It was foolish—”

“No,” Benedict shook his head, reaching to take her hand in his own. “It is quite alright. You are more than welcome to be here.”

His hands were warm, or perhaps she was just that cold, making them feel like a fire. “I am so sorry, Benedict.”

“For what?” He asked genuinely. 

“Everything?” She offered. “I-I am not sure of what, exactly, but I feel that I need to apologize.”

“You needn’t apologize for anything,” he said. “Not with me, not ever.”

She looked up at the ceiling, afraid to make contact with his blue stare. “I needed to get away. My brother he—Jack hit me.”

Benedict froze, his entire body went rigid. “I’ll kill him.”

“I suppose I deserved it,” she shrugged, now looking at the ground. “Talking back to him, assuming things that could never be—” 

“A man has assaulted you,” Benedict squeezed her hand tighter. “Brother or not, he put his hands on you. You did nothing of the sort to deserve such a thing.”

“I don’t think I can go back there,” (Y/N) said softly. “Perhaps this was just the moment that gave me clarity. Opened my eyes, so to speak.”

Benedict took a good look at her face, red and splotchy, whether it was from the smack or the tears, he could not tell. “Tea is on the way, I shall request a cold compress for your cheek—”

“I do not wish to impose.”

“You shall wish for nothing here,” Benedict said quietly, firmly. “You will stay until the rain lets up, or, you provide me with a suggestible plan for your next steps.”

“I cannot go back,” she finally looked up at Benedict. “As much as I would like to, I simply cannot.”

“If you do not want to go back, I will support you. If you want to leave town, the country even, I will support you,” he said seriously. “Please allow me to support you.”

“I could never ask you for that—”

“You are not asking, I am offering,” he clarified. 

“Benedict…”

The rain seemed to lessen, if the pelting against the window had anything to say about it. The noise had dimmed, not as violent as before. “To know that you are safe, that you are cared for, that is all I care about.”

So, in the center of the blue Bridgerton drawing room, soaked to the bone and dripping all over the floor, she kissed him. It was a sudden thing, pulling him down towards her lips, the contact much quicker than she had expected. He returned the favor in kind, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tight, kissing her in a way he had yet to truly experience. 

If his hands were like a fire, his lips were an inferno. Fighting for dominance, it was all encompassing. How had she gone so long without a feeling such as this? The burn was coming from inside, not a superficial one atop her skin as she was quite used to, but this burn, this feeling, she could find herself craving this. 

“I-I am sorry—” she pulled away.

“Never be sorry,” Benedict shook his head. “Not for that, not ever.”

“I should not have done that…”

“No,” he agreed, a chuckle leaving his lips, “but how exhilarating it felt, regardless.”

His thumb ran lazy circles on her jaw. She leaned into the touch. “I do not know what to do, where to go…”

“But you cannot stay here…?”

She smiled sadly. “You know me scarily well, Benedict.”

He thought for a moment. “So… leave.”

“Excuse me?”

“Leave town, leave the country—”

“I do not have the means to do such a silly thing.”

“I will pay your way.”

She scoffed, trying to pull out of his embrace. He wouldn’t release his grip. “Benedict…”

“I told you, I wish to support you. Emotionally, financially, I want to be there for you,” Benedict said. “Even if we are not—if you do not want to be together romantically, I want to ensure your safety and your health, your well-being. A friend.”

She tried to find the lie in his eyes, in his tone. Coming up empty, she had no excuse to not believe him. 

“France,” he said, as if struck by lightning.

“France?”

“I hear only the expert bakers study in France—I have no doubts you could go to learn,” he explained. “I could pay for your travel, housing, you name it. Ask for it, and it is yours.”

“I doubt anyone would want to teach a woman, no matter how lovely a thought it might be.”

“I have a cousin,” Benedict explained. “Her and her husband own a café—I am quite certain that they would love to hire an expert baker to add to their inventory and menu. You could earn your own income, make your own way. A fresh start.”

“A fresh start…” she repeated. “That sounds too good to be true.”

“I shall write to her in the morning,” Benedict said, holding her hands again. 

“And you…?”

“I will only come with you if you want me to join,” Benedict said slowly. “I will not trap you. I want your happiness, your freedom.”

She nodded, understanding.

“I think France sounds nice,” she smiled. “Will you write to me?”

“Every chance I get.”

“Even if you are vexed with me?”

“Especially if I am vexed with you.”

She kissed his lips again, sweeter and softer than the first time.

“Sounds perfect.”

—

A year. An entire year had passed and she couldn’t recall a happier time in her life. The only time that something could have rivaled it was a visit to a tea shop followed by a respite by a pond—in handsome company all the while. 

They kept correspondence, just like they promised. Every week came a new letter, a new story to be told by the poetic Benedict Bridgerton. She tried to rival his words, explaining every detail about France, about her new life, but something was nagging. She missed him. They had grown close over the correspondence, leaving her heart wanting more. But, she knew when she left for France it was to fulfill her dreams, leaving a foolish notion like love on the back burner.

“(Y/N),” Marie, the Bridgerton cousin, called out behind her. “We are in need of more buns.”

“I just restocked the buns,” (Y/N) giggled, turning to the blonde. “What? Has someone mysteriously bought the lot?”

“Oui,” Marie said with a jest, heading into the storage room, “perhaps you should go bring more out?”

“You are in luck, the last batch just finished resting from the oven,” she said, carrying a tray on her shoulder, “I will bring them out with haste.”

“I am sure he will appreciate it.”

(Y/N) faltered, hand already pressed to the door leading to the front shop. A tingle ran through her spine, her heart picking up to a freeing flutter. 

Could it be?

“You know, I would buy your entire stock,” the man hummed, looking thoughtfully into the display case, “but I fear I would be recreating a rather taxing memory for the both of us.”

“Benedict,” she gasped, nearly dropping her tray. 

“You look radiant,” he mused, that wicked grin of his breaking on his face. “Much like the first time I saw you—covered in flour.”

“I am in my element,” (Y/N) said sweetly, “just as you would expect.” She had noticed that Marie and her husband were not in the café, the sign flipped to close. “You planned this.”

“Do you insinuate that I bribed my distant cousin to close her café to give you the day off, travel all the way to France, hoping I could spend the day with you?” Benedict scoffed playfully. “You truly do not know me at all.”

“I do not think Marie would take a bribe,” (Y/N) said slyly, knowing how much of a champion the cousin had been for the baker and viscount’s son to get together.

“She refused payment,” he admitted, agreeing with her notion. “But, was ever eager to see you get out of the kitchen and enjoy yourself.”

“You hadn’t written to me in two weeks,” (Y/N) said, walking around the counter. “I was worried.”

“I needed to refrain from our correspondence, I fear I would have let the surprise slip otherwise.”

“Smart man,” she hummed.

“I am known to be smart occasionally,” he shrugged.

“What are you doing here?” She finally asked. “N-not that I am not happy to see you, of course, but as you had said, this is a surprise.”

“I came to study art,” Benedict said, a hand in his coat pocket. “I felt that if I truly wanted to learn the craft, I needed to learn from the masters—many of their works are housed here in France. I even began to rent a little home in town, finding the need to stay a while.”

“That is the only reason?”

Benedict’s gaze softened. “Of course it is not the only reason.”

Her heart fluttered again.

“It is only fair that I try this again, correctly and without the prying eyes of society, this time,” Benedict said, clearing his throat and spinning around.

“Correctly?” She giggled, watching him twirl to face the door.

“Ah, good morning miss!” Benedict said, turning back to face (Y/N). “I must say, you look ever-so-pretty—tell me, do all bakers have a beauty such as your own?”

“I would wager no,” she said, trying to keep serious. “Most of the bakers around here are men.”

“Shame. Might I learn your name? It seems only fair—I fear I might just die if I do not know the sweet sound of it.”

“(Y/N),” she sang. “My name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“Benedict Bridgerton,” he stretched out his hand, reaching for her own. She allowed him to take it, a soft kiss was placed on the back of her cracked hand—a working hand, one that she was proud to have. 

“You are very charming, Mr. Bridgerton,” she hummed, looking deeply into his blue eyes. “Pleased to make your company.”

“I assure you, I am more pleased to be in yours,” Benedict insisted, kissing her hand again. “Tell me, do you have plans this afternoon?”

“It seems my schedule has cleared up,” she looked to the sign on the door and sighed. “Why? Do you have any suggestions on how I should spend it?”

“Might we take a turn around the park? A friend of mine has written to me about just how lovely one nearby is, I reckon I would like to see it for myself.”

She smiled brightly at him, as if he held the world in his hands. Instead, he held two leaves between his fingers—brown and cracked, but clearly treated with such care. They had been the same ones from their time at the park the first go around, she was nearly certain. Why else would he bring dead leaves with him?

"Leaves?"

"You see, my family, we have this tradition of racing with leaves—I would very much like to share it with you. These two in particular seem to be very lucky, thought it would be best to bring them along."

His smile melted her heart, endearing and thoughtful in the same breath. She could get used to a smile like that.

“Well… what are we waiting for, Mr. Bridgerton?”

[chrrific]

KISS-DODGER ♡ 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇’ 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 。

𝗔𝗟𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗡𝗔𝗧𝒊𝗩𝗔 🐇 ◟ refusing to kiss your boyfriend after a prank

( 𝖬𝑖𝖠 𝖢𝖠𝖱𝖠 ) enhypen ⸝⸝ bf ! sunghoon x f ! r O657 fluff whiny hoon agenda 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑜 profanity kissing skinship light flirting

★reblogs get you kisses

sunghoon swears he’s going fucking insane.

you had been ignoring him for the past, what, about a half hour now? and he was this close to exploding from lack of your attention.

it all began when he dodged your kiss when you came up to him earlier, just to tease a bit. the boy thought he’d give you the silent treatment for a minute, let you be pouty for a bit, and then give in and kiss you like the amazing boyfriend he is.

but instead, he’s the one being given the silent treatment now.

“baby, please, i swear i didn’t mean it! i’ll give you a hundred kisses to make up for it.” sunghoon whines, only to be met with complete radio silence from you.

tipping his head back onto the headrest of the couch, he groans as if you’ve told him with your silence he can never kiss you again, covering his eyes like he’s shielding himself from something horrible. “i think i’m dying,” he huffs, “i even see a light at the end of the white pathway. it’s so bright, gosh, i can’t see, y/n. would you like the love of your life to not be able to see?”

the over exaggeration in his words and tone have your lips twitching at the side as you shake your head, bemused. “one, that’s the ceiling light, and two, the last time i checked, you were perfectly able to see when you dodged my kiss.”

“so you can talk,” he mumbles, running a hand through his ebony locks. “but i must let you know, that not kissing your precious, sweet, and kiss-deprived boyfriend can be considered pure torture by some people.”

“those ‘people’ being you, i’d assume.”

sunghoon rolls his eyes with a quiet huff, before a mischievous glint suddenly replaces the utter misery that was just now set into his captivating brown orbs.

“i’d even get on my knees and beg for you to kiss me if you’d like.”

your brain short circuited.

“w-what? hoon!” you sputter. your jaw dropped open as a burning heat crept its way up your neck, finding its home on your cheeks and ears as well.

“oh my god, y/n, i did not know you were into that,” he cackles. “guess i’ll make a mental note of that for later events.” then, a wink. he fucking winks at you, having the audacity to be this cheeky when he knows you can just refuse kiss him.

“sunghoon park, i swear to god i won’t kiss you—let alone speak to you—for a week if you wink at me one more time.”

“but you wouldn’t, considering how charming and irresistible i am.” sunghoon retorts, and the confidence in his voice just makes you deadpan even further.

you turned face to him with a small sigh. “will you stop being insufferable if i kiss you?” he takes a moment and pretends to think about it, though he inevitably nods with a grin forming on his face.

his smiling lips finally meet yours when you lean in to join them, and he feels like he’s gone insane in the best possible way. the way your lips slot against his, their plump softness enveloping him in your taste, the slightest hint of cherry chapstick hitting his taste buds.

“you really wanna dodge my kisses again?” you ask, amusement lacing your question as your mouth ghosts over his, foreheads resting against one another’s.

“if you let me kiss you like after, then maybe i might just do it again.”

you flick his chest as a response, laughing when he winces slightly at the action: he just pulls you in for another kiss by the back of your neck, this time softer, more passionate than the last.

despite it all—the teasing, the pranks, the sarcastic banter—the affection caught between you is something that will never fade, but will forever seem to linger even in the hardest of times.

미키 : woah, two sunghoon fics on a streak TT i like this one a lot, so do not flop !!!

taglist. open requests. open

[takimakiiiii]

chicken shop date pt.2 - LN4

synopsis: Lando's invited back to your dating show for a second date?!

wc: 2.4k (a little shorter than the first part!)

pairing!: lando norris x fem!reader

part 1 is here!

includes: fluff, hardcore flirting, no swearing (i think), playful banter, HEAVY 3rd person perspective use, adele jumpscare

a/n: WOW! I cannot believe how fast the first part blew up thank you so much! once again, this fictional fanfic is heavily inspired by amelia dimoldenberg's chicken shop date you can find on youtube! I also mention hot wings and stole the ice cream moment with bad bunny bc i thought that was super cute! anyways, pls enjoy and as always, reblogs and likes are super duper appreciated!

1 WEEK LATER . . .

Now Playing: LANDO NORRIS | CHICKEN SHOP DATE - THE SECOND DATE

ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ: ▮▮▮▮▮▮▯▯▯

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

The camera opens to a shot of outside the worn Chicken Shop, the location in neat text by the corner. There’s a soft DING of a bell ringing and the camera abruptly cuts, as if the camera itself is impatient and ready to begin the date. It slowly pans to Lando’s face who’s already got a wide grin on his lips. There’s a soft hum of the deep fryer’s in the background, the shop coldly lit by the overhead lamps. Yet, despite the chill of the shop, the atmosphere Lando and Y/N bring, lights the scene up with playful warmth. A small basket of chips sits between them but no one’s really paying attention to it. The shop is silent, the low buzzing of the AC in the background. There’s a gentle beat of silence, before Y/N speaks.

“So you’re back.” she says almost skeptically, as she adjusts herself in her seat, letting her eyes drift back to Lando. He nods curtly in reply, his curls bouncing softly. “Well, you invited me back, how could I refuse an offer like that?”

“Right, well it wasn’t because I wanted to. It was for the fans, obviously.” Y/N replies coolly, stealing a glance at the camera as if the audience themself is there watching eagerly in their seats. Lando lets a soft chuckle escape his lips, “Obviously,” he echoes, though the glint in his eyes seems to betray him as if he doesn’t seem to agree at all. 

“You know, people think we’re dating.” Y/N seems to blurt out but Lando knows each word is purely intentional. He feigns surprise, mouth hanging agape, “Really?” he says, almost sarcastically. Y/N tries her best to resist the pull of the grin he’s wearing, determined not to give in, she simply sighs dramatically. Her head tilts, nose scrunching slightly. “Yeah, I have no idea why, I’m like drastically out of your league.” she shrugs, her eyes locking back with Lando’s who looks like the words have gotten lost in his mouth. Y/N’s eyebrows raise questionably, teasing on the edge of her lips but he cuts in before she can push further. 

“I honestly think it’s the other way around, I’m really out of your league.” he insists. Neither of them acknowledges the soft pink flush blooming across his cheeks. If Y/N notices, she doesn’t mention it, saving the moment for post-camera teasing.

“How flattering,” Y/N muses, her words laced with sarcasm. “We all know that’s not true.” 

Lando lets a soft chuckle escape his lips, his face lighting up instantly by her witty comment. The energy between them is playful, full of tension they pretend not to notice. It’s just a fake date, right?

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” Lando murmurs but just loudly enough that Y/N hears it, her eyes going wide every so slightly, the sudden sweet remark catching her off guard. Perhaps the microphone is doing her a favour by not showing how loud her heart is beating in her chest. To the audience it wouldn’t be anything more than harmless playful flirting, but perhaps it isn’t, not anymore at least. Well, who knows for sure? 

Y/N’s lips are slightly parted as if she wants to say more, the words hanging on the tip of her tongue. But the camera brazenly cuts before Y/N can speak, a moment left unfinished leaving the people wanting more, curse the damn cameraman. 

♡

“Let's talk red flags,” Y/N states, flexing her fingers before resting them on the table in front of her. Lando watches her carefully, far too used to her unpredictableness by now.

 “I’ll go first, once I got emotionally attached to a barista because he remembered my name.” Y/N sighs as if she’s reminiscing the moment thoughtfully. There’s a chuckle from the other side of the table, “Everyone knows your name, Y/N.” Lando grins to which for the first time in the video, Y/N smiles back lightheartedly - a real, unguarded smile.

There’s a beat of silence before she replies, “I see you’ve improved on your flattery skills since our last date.” she muses, rather impressed despite herself. She gives Lando an acknowledging nod, popping a hot chip in her mouth. The atmosphere on the brink of something playful yet experimental as if they’re not quite sure what it could lead to. But that’s just all part of the fun, isn’t it?

“Well, it’s a second date, right? I had to bring my best flirting skills.” he shrugs playfully with a gentle smirk pulling at his lips. Y/N raises her eyebrows, amused but reciprocating his playfulness.

“Of course, you wouldn't want me to walk away, would you?”

“We both know I’d run after you anyways,” he grins, rather proud of his reply. The line catches her off guard. She flushes, caught in his smoothness. For once, he’s the one doing the flirting, and she’s the one left flustered. She lifts her glass of water, takes a sip, and looks away in an attempt to regain her composure. Silence falls. But her facade cracks. She bursts into laughter, water spilling from her mouth. She wipes it with her sleeve, still shaking from the giggles, rolling in her seat.

Lando watches her, both stunned and amused. He glances behind the camera, as if asking the crew for backup, but they only shrug and grin.

Moments laters they’re both laughing together, their joy filling the small shop. 

“I don’t know why that was so funny,” Y/N admits, dabbing her eyes through soft laughter. Lando snorts, “Are you crying?”

Y/N rolls her eyes, “One: you’re going to ruin my makeup. And two: you’re going to get me fired, so just answer the damn question.”

Lando can’t keep the lopsided grin off his face that only grows, giving in with little persuasion. His eyes flit over her as he thinks. “I still follow my ex’s dog on instagram.” he finally confesses. Y/N blinks before nodding as if the statment makes perfect sense - it doesn’t, but she plays along.

“That’s valid,” she agrees with a shrug, “The dog didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“Exactly, Baxter didn’t do anything wrong.” Lando nods, a spark of agreement on his face.

“Justice for Baxter,” Y/N declares with mock solemnity, raising a fist in playful solidarity before throwing a quick glance at the camera. Her grin is infectious, wide and unfiltered.

Lando watches her from across the table, gaze softening into something unguarded. There’s an easy warmth in his eyes, a quiet admiration that doesn’t need words.The camera catches it just in time, lingering for a beat on the look he gives her. Then it cuts. And this time, the scene doesn’t feel abrupt. It feels right. Complete.

♡

“What’s the most romantic thing you’ve done?” Y/N asks, casually popping a chicken nugget in her mouth, eyes fixed on Lando with curious amusement. Lando pauses, chewing on the question, “I once wrote a love letter, real paper, ink and all.”

Y/N looks impressed but her words claim otherwise, “You know, for a rich guy I expected more.” She flashes a playful smile at him, her eyes lighting up, knowing he’ll rise to the bait.

“Like what?” Lando deflects defensively, eyebrows raised softly in amusement. Y/N shrugs nonchalantly (i cannot believe i just wrote that), her lips pursed as her face scrunches slightly. “I don’t know, like Taylor Swift playing at a birthday party or asking Jude Bellingham to sign a shirt as a gift.” Y/N suggests, unfazed by his defensiveness. Lando considers it for a moment, “That’s. . . creative.” he finally says.

“Thanks, I know.” Y/N agrees flatly, inspecting her nails. Lando chuckles softly and Y/N’s eyes flicker up to him, her mouth tugging to a grin. “Right, anyways, what about you?” Lando asks, curiosity getting the better of him.

“I made a playlist for them but turns out they hated Adele.’” Y/N says, pulling a sour face, her bottom lip sticking out glumly. “Well, you really dodged a bullet there.” Lando assures her lightheartedly.

“Ooh, yeah, major red flag.” Y/N agrees with a grimace. “Are you friends with Adele?” she asks, her interest auddenly perked, excitement gleaming in her eyes. She leans forward in her chair eagerly. Lando purses his lips in thought, “I think I’ve met her, once.” he recalls slowly.

“Do you think she’d want to be my friend?” Y/N wiggles her eyebrows in hopeful exaggeration. Lando sends her a pointed look, somewhere between amused and confused. “Are you seriously asking me to ask Adele to go on a date with you?”

“She’s not a random person, she’s Adele!” Y/N protests through laughter. Lando rolls his eyes but he can’t resist the pull of her contagious smile. He can’t help it - her energy is magnetic. “Well, I could try but I don’t think you usually ask your date to set you up with someone else,” he says.

“It’s Adele, though.” she huffs with zero regrets as if the answer is self-explanatory. Lando nods, pretending to understand, though his expression shows otherwise as his eyebrows furrow together. Confused, but he’s got the spirit. The camera lingers for just a second more as their laughter blends together, easy and unforced. Then it cuts, leaving a trace of warmth and ridiculousness hanging in the air, the kind that feels just right for them.

♡

“Okay, serious question,” Y/N says, leaning forward. “BBQ or mayo?”

Lando pauses, debating both options carefully before deciding. “Garlic mayo. Fight me.”

Y/N raises her eyebrows, pretending to coonsider it a worthy option. There’s a long pause before she shrugs, unimpressed. “You kinda give off ‘says they like spice but cries at mild’ energy.” she comments instead. Lando blinks, caught off guard. “That’s kinda accurate, I won’t lie.” he admits without shame.

“I eat hot sauce to feel something.” Y/N replies solemnly.

Smash cut to both of them in front of a bottle of hot sauce, drenching their chicken in reckless abandon. Lando watches Y/N with growing alarm as she drowns her nugget in an obscene amount of hot sauce. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” he asks, his voice tinged with genuine concern.

Y/N, unbothered, picks up the fiery chicken with absolute confidence. “I’ve been invited back to Hot Ones, twice,” she says, deadpan. Lando stares in silent horror as she takes a massive bite like she’s proving a point. She chews, eyes already watering, and jabs a finger in his direction. “Your go,” she tries to say, though it comes out muffled and garbled, her mouth still full and on fire.

Still, Lando gets the message. Carefully, he picks up his drumstick and takes a bite, cautious and exact, as if precision will somehow spare him. Across the table, Y/N is now fanning her face dramatically with her hand, cheeks flushed, eyes glossy. She lets out a breathless laugh.

“Are you crying now?” she asks between coughs, clearly already losing it. The camera pans slowly to Lando. His face is bright red, eyes glistening with tears. Not from emotion, but from the inferno currently consuming his mouth. 

“I’m not crying, you’re crying,” he says in a raspy voice, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Y/N doubles over in her chair, laughing so hard she has to hide her face in her hands. Lando glares half-heartedly at her, then turns to the camera crew in desperation.

“Do you guys have milk?” he pleads.

The screen fades to black on his suffering, and her laughter.

♡

“Are you okay now?”

Y/N has finally pulled herself together after completely losing it minutes ago, though her cheeks are still flushed and there's a smear of hot sauce on her face that she hasn’t noticed. Across the table, Lando sits bundled up with a cup of chocolate ice cream, scowling at her. “No,” he sulks, drawing his knees up toward his chest in exaggerated misery.

Y/N rolls her eyes with a half-smile. “Anyways. Next question.” Lando groans dramatically, rolling his eyes to the ceiling before plunking the ice cream back on the table and straightening in his seat with a reluctant sigh.

“Okay, shoot,” he says with an exaggerated sigh.

“If you could time travel to any moment in your life, what would it be?”

He doesn’t even hesitate. “Year 9. To stop myself from getting that horrific haircut.” He shudders, as if the memory alone could still haunt him. Y/N snorts, already picturing something tragic. “You looked like a mushroom too?”

“Worse. A bowl.”

She winces in solidarity. “Ooh. Yeah, that’s rough.” She tries to imagine it but comes up short, her brain refusing to conjure an image that awful. “I had a fringe once, if that helps. It was... not okay.”

Lando laughs, a real one this time, lighting up in stark contrast to the ice cream-fueled sulkiness from earlier. “Photos or it didn’t happen,” he challenges.

Y/N immediately shakes her head, eyes wide. “They’ve all been deleted. For the safety of the public.” Lando grins, leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying the mental image. The camera cuts right there, on the edge of laughter, with the kind of unspoken rhythm between them that says: if the moment kept going, it might never end.

♡

“Rate the date out of 10,” Y/N says, balancing her own bowl of ice cream like it’s a trophy. “Just so you know, your rating will affect your screen time, so choose wisely.”

Lando thinks for a moment, as he always does. “Solid 9.3,” he decides at last. “The vibes are weird... but I like your company.”

Y/N nods, clearly satisfied with the result. “Thank you,” she says. “I think you’re weird too. You kinda give off ‘ghosts people and then texts them six months later like nothing happened’ energy.”

Lando lets out a laugh, raising an eyebrow. “Only during Mercury retrograde,” he quips.

Y/N freezes for a second, genuinely impressed. “I respect the chaos,” she replies with a solemn nod, as if it’s a personal code of honor.

Lando grins, and without meaning to, Y/N mirrors it. The laughter softens into something quieter, something unspoken passing between them. There’s an odd ache to the moment, a shared sense that the end is creeping in. Neither of them can quite name it, but it’s there in the lingering eye contact, in the silence that doesn’t beg to be filled.

Y/N clears her throat, a little too abruptly, and claps her hands together to break the stillness. “And now, the final question,” she says dramatically, back in host mode. “Would you go on a third date?”

Lando barely misses a beat. “Only if there’s more chips... and no cameras.”

“I can organize that.”

He leans back, ice cream forgotten, smile soft. “Perfect.”

♡

a/n: THANK U SM FOR READING!!! I really hope u enjoyed, remember to stay safe and have a good day :)

taglisttime! (these accs will also be tagged in the other chicken shop fics for other drivers, please message me if you would like to removed/added!

@anamiad00msday @verogonewild @90smania @clarksgf @knivesdoingcartwheels @ezzi-ln4 @evie-119 @strawberry-rainclouds @fastcarsgonyoem @lina505 @guacala @linneaguriii @tamimemo @hydracassiopeiadarablack @willowpains @alireads27 @gigigreens @rifran @fairyjinn @stylesmoonlight12 @kikas-cafe @curlylando

(sorry if i accidentlly left you out or it didn't tag well!!)