#truffles grows up

[tilda-rothery]

Life has been crazy busy this past week which means I've barely written anything for 'I put a spell on you'...

I've got a new work schedule, my little one started pre-school, it's hot outside and also I'm still very much lost to my current Stardew playthrough.

Normally during the times I sit and write, once the little one is in bed, I've been so thoroughly exhausted that all I want to do is tend to my pixelated farm 😅

Anyway, here is a little snippet from chapter 5 (which is still in the editing phase)...

“I have, but this case isn’t quite like those other ones,” Clarissa replied, trying to ignore the fast pace of her heart when she realised just how vulnerable a position she’d put herself in.

Leonora, who was intimidating enough already being a whole head taller than her, seemed even more so now, while Clarissa all but knelt in front of her.

Clarissa would’ve been lying if she’d said she’d never thought about being on her knees for this woman, albeit in a different scenario. She ignored the heat rushing to her cheeks and stood, rearranging her files and the umbrella as she did so, “It’s got us all in a spin.”

Maybe she got up to fast, maybe it was down to her skipping meals, maybe it was to do with the heat in her cheeks. Maybe it was a compilation of all three. But for the briefest of moments Clarissa’s head went fuzzy and her vision blurred. She stumbled forward.

The umbrella fell to the floor with a clatter, causing poor Reaper to skitter back behind his mistress’s legs. Her files slipped from her hand. A few loose papers slipped out and danced on the breeze. Clarissa reached out a hand to steady herself, her fingers curling around Leonora’s forearm.

Leonora tensed instantly under her touch. Clarissa swallowed and took a breath, remembering how the woman in front of her barely tolerated her. She was not here out of friendship or niceties, but rather much like always, Leonora was here out of inconvenience, returning a forgotten umbrella.

[orcelito]

tfw u have so much shit in stardew valley due to dumb luck alone. but the thing you dont have. is a single Fucking red cabbage.

[luvsupa]

tags: chef!geto x married!reader, cheating (don’t do this guys), naoya is readers husband, food play(ish), geto has tattoos + purple eyes, smut (kinda), mdni,

w.c: 1.9k

+ finally this is out of my drafts 🙂‍↕️

“i’ve hired a new chef.” your husband, naoya, announces coldly from the other end of the long, polished dining table. the sharp clink of cutlery echoes through the grand dining room as you both eat the meal your private chefs had meticulously prepared—medium rare wagyu steak with truffle mashed potatoes and buttered asparagus, the kind of meal that screams luxury. but his voice grates on you, cutting through your attempt to enjoy the evening.

you grip your knife tightly, scraping it against your plate in irritation, barely tasting the food. naoya’s eyes finally flick up from his plate, narrowing as he notices your silence. his leg bounces under the table, the tension radiating off him as he grows impatient with you ignoring him. 

“i’m speaking to you, woman,” he snaps through gritted teeth, barely holding back his annoyance.

you drop your utensils with a clatter, meeting his icy gaze. “and i’m listening. another chef, huh? what is this, the eighth or ninth employee you’ve hired just to fuck behind my back?”

naoya leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. his tongue rolls against his cheek, a clear sign that you’ve struck a nerve. but instead of shame, he’s amused.

“whatever happens between me and my staff is none of your concern,” he says smoothly, his arrogance on full display. “and this time, i’ve hired a male chef. try not to spread your legs for him the way you do for everyone else.”

the words sting, but they’re nothing new. his chuckle follows as he tosses his dirty napkin onto his half-eaten plate and stands, casually loosening his tie from his work suit. “slut,” he mutters under his breath as he walks out of the dining room, leaving you with the hollow clink of his footsteps fading in the distance.

you stare down at your left hand weighed down by stacks and stacks of luxurious jewelry—gifts from naoya, from a time when he at least pretended to love you. the massive diamond on your ring finger feels heavy, a cruel reminder of the life you thought you’d have. a life where you were cherished, not ignored and humiliated.

but that was before the affairs. before he cheated on you with everyone from his secretaries to the maids. you’ve tried to leave him more than once, but his connections, his power—he’s made it clear he’ll destroy you if you ever walk away. 

and so you stay, trapped in this gilded cage.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

the next morning, you wake up tangled in silk sheets, the rich fabric cool against your skin. you turn to the clock on the nightstand—9:40 a.m. naoya is already gone, no doubt having left hours earlier for work. good, you think. it’s better that way. waking up to his smug face would only ruin your morning.

slipping into your soft slippers, you wrap yourself in a sheer lilac robe, its light fabric brushing against your bare skin as you make your way to the bathroom. after freshening up, you take extra care with your skincare routine and hair, making sure you look more presentable than you did when you woke up.

the enticing aroma of freshly baked pastries and pancakes floats through the air as you descend the grand, floating staircase—something you’d begged naoya to have built when you first moved in.

you walk into the kitchen, expecting to see one of the female chefs who probably has a history with your husband. but instead, you freeze mid-greeting.

“good morning, rina—oh…” your words trail off as your eyes land on a tall, muscular man in the kitchen, flipping pancakes with an ease that seems almost hypnotic. his back is turned to you, but you can’t help but admire the way his broad shoulders stretch the black tank top—no, wife beater—that clings to his frame. you can see the muscles in his arms flex with each movement, glistening in the soft morning light streaming through the tall windows. his long, dark hair is tied up in a neat bun, and his discarded chef’s jacket hangs over the back of a chair.

he turns at the sound of your voice, a warm smile spreading across his lips, and you’re suddenly struck by how impossibly handsome he is. it’s not just his looks—it’s his presence. confident and utterly intoxicating. your mouth goes dry as you try not to ogle him, but it’s impossible. fuck, he looks good.

“ah, good morning, mrs. zenin. apologies for the late breakfast,” he says smoothly, his voice deep and velvety, and you have to lean more into the wall for support.

you quickly correct him by letting him no the preferred name rather than naoya’s evil surname. “a-and, there’s no need to be so formal…?,” you drag on for his chance to introduce himself.

“such a beautiful name,” he compliments, sending a shiver down your spine. you feel like a teenage girl speaking to her crush for the first time. “i’m geto suguru.”

suguru. you roll the name over in your mind,

“do… do you need any help, suguru?” you offer, your voice barely above a whisper. you step closer to him, drawn in by his presence. his cologne is subtle, but it clogs your mind, intoxicating you as you catch the scent of sandalwood and something dark and sensual.

he looks down at you, smirking at your shy demeanor. “you wanna help, pretty?” his eyebrow quirks as he motions you to join him, and you nod, as the petname made you all happy.

he motions you to move to his other side but as you follow- your gaze catches something else—tattoos. a full sleeve, intricate designs snaking up his toned arm. your mouth goes dry again as your eyes linger, tracing the ink and the way it contrasts against his skin.

he notices, of course, and chuckles. “got these during a… phase. not really proud of it,” he admits casually, his voice smooth as silk.

“i think they’re attractive,” you say softly, barely able to look him in the eye as you flirt back.

his smirk widens, and he turns back to the stove, pouring a decent amount of pancake batter onto the pan. the butter sizzles, filling the air with the rich, delicious scent of breakfast. “i think you’re attractive,” he murmurs, “shame you’re already married.”

his words hit you like a punch to the gut, a reminder of naoya, of the life you’re stuck in. your smile falters, and geto notices, his sharp eyes catching every little reaction.

“is that whipped cream?” you ask quickly, desperate to change the subject, trying to pull yourself together.

“just finished,” he replies, turning down the heat on the jam. his voice is low, smooth, teasing. “wanna taste?”

you nod, unable to resist the pull of his presence. geto steps closer, his gaze never leaving yours as he dips his finger into the whipped cream. slowly, he brings it to his mouth. his lips part, his tongue gliding over his finger as he sucks the cream off, savouring it with a soft, sensual hum. his eyes flutter shut, and the moment feels intimate—too intimate.

your lips part slightly, unable to look away from the sight of him. his finger glistens as he pulls it from his mouth, the motion slow, deliberate, teasing you without a single word. he dips back into the bowl, scooping up a thick, generous glob of cream, his eyes darkening with desire.

“say ahh, baby,” he whispers, his voice so low, it’s almost a growl, holding his finger near your lips.

your breath catches, your glossed lips parting eagerly as you wait for him to feed you, heat pooling between your thighs at the way he’s looking at you. but instead, his hand accidentally slips, the cold cream falling between your breasts, slowly trickling down your cleavage.

you gasp at the shock of it, the cold against your heated skin sending a shiver through you.

“oh… i’m sorry,” he murmurs, though the wicked smirk curling at his lips tells you he’s anything but. “mah i clean that up?” he politely asks as you mutter out a soft, yes, as he smirks.

before you can fully process anything, his large hands are on you, lifting you effortlessly onto the cool marble counter. your breath hitches as your robe falls open slightly, the flimsy material slipping down your shoulders, baring more of your chest. geto positions himself between your legs, his gaze locked on your cleavage, his tongue slowly wetting his lips.

you tremble above him, his body so close, the heat of him making you dizzy. he leans in, his breath warm against your skin as his fingers slowly push more of the fabric of your robe, exposing the thin top beneath. his eyes darken with hunger as he takes in the sight of you.

with agonizing slowness, he lowers his head, his long tongue sliding up the valley between your breasts, collecting the cream in long, deliberate licks. the sensation sends a shock of pleasure through you, and your head falls back, a soft moan escaping your lips. he moves up to your neck, sucking gently on the sensitive skin, leaving hot, wet kisses. fuck, you didn’t realize how touch deprived you were until now- especially being in his presence is making your cunt quiver.

his hands glide up your body, one gripping your waist while the other cups your breast. your eyes flutter at the intensity as your breathing quickens as he kneads your breast through the thin fabric of your top. you let out a broken moan as he sucks harder at your neck while simultaneously pinching and twisting your erect nipples between his experienced fingers as his tongue continues its sinful path along your throat. and oh, the sweet melodies of your moans escaping your mouth does something to geto. he feels his work pants get tighter and tighter the more you let out your moans. fuckk he thinks it’s beyond pathetic how something so minimal is making him this hard.

“m-more,” you plead breathlessly, your voice a desperate whisper.

geto chuckles against your neck, his lips brushing your ear. “does your husband even know how fucking needy you are?” he taunts, his voice thick with amusement. his fingers pinch your nipple harder, drawing a gasp from you. “how much you crave this? how desperate you are to be touched like this?”

you shake your head, unable to form words, your body arching into his touch, wanting everything he can give. but just when you think he’s about to give in to your pleas, he pulls back, his heat leaving you suddenly cold as he turns his attention back to the stove, his movements casual as if nothing had just happened.

your eyes fly open in disbelief, your body still trembling, aching for him. he flips the pancakes calmly, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as though you hadn’t just been begging him for more.

“i-i didn’t get a taste,” you whine softly, your voice thick with need, still perched on the counter, your legs open, desperate for him.

he glances back at you, a knowing grin spreading across his face as he finishes preparing you your breakfast as he turns around, hands you a beautifully plated dish of pancakes, the whipped cream and fresh jam. “i don’t want the food- i want you,” you whine as he places the food beside you.

“you can’t always get what you want, spoiled brat.” you huff in frustration, your body still burning for him, but before you can say a word, he leans in close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

“maybe i’ll let you have more when you learn some manners, hmm?” 

[faithshouseofchaos]

“Don’t you trust me?” — dark!Ex!Mafia!Lando Norris x fem!reader part six

Part one part two part three part four part five part six

Word count— 3.1k

Warnings — smut light fingering, oral fem!receiving, Lando low key manipulated the reader into having sex

The sun had just begun to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. You were dressed in a pretty sundress, feeling a mixture of excitement and anxiety. It was your first date with Lando, and you couldn't help the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Lando picked you up, looking handsome in a suit and tie. As soon as he laid eyes on you, a smile tugged at his lips. "You look beautiful," he said, his eyes roaming over your outfit.

You blushed under his gaze, feeling a bit self-conscious. But you couldn't help the smile that graced your lips in return. "Thank you," you replied, smoothing down the skirt of your dress. "You look very nice yourself."

You slid into the car, the leather seats cool against your skin. Lando shut the door behind you and rounded the car to the driver's side. He got in, started the ignition, and pulled out of the driveway.

The evening air streamed through the open windows, making your hair dance around your face. The radio played softly in the background, a song that you recognized but couldn't quite place.

Lando glanced over at you, his eyes sweeping over your profile. There was a strange mix of intensity and softness in his gaze as if he was fighting conflicting emotions.

"Are you excited for tonight?" he asked, breaking the comfortable silence between you two.

You nodded, a thrill of anticipation running through you. "Yes, I am," you replied. "I'm a bit nervous too, I can't lie. But I'm mostly just excited to spend time with you."

Lando chuckled at your confession, the sound warm and inviting. "Nervous, huh? Don't be. It's just us out tonight. Just you and me."

His words were reassuring, but there was an undercurrent of possessiveness in his tone that made your heart flutter.

Despite the slight unease that his words incited, you shrugged it off. You didn't want to overthink this; you just wanted to enjoy yourself.

"So, where are we going?" you asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

Lando smirked, keeping his gaze focused on the road. "It's a surprise," he said, drawing out the word in a tantalizing manner. "You'll see when we get there. Trust me, you're going to love it."

You wanted to pry more, but the mischievous gleam in Lando's eyes told you that he was going to keep it a surprise until the last moment. So, you settled back into your seat, the anticipation in your chest growing with each mile the car covered.

Eventually, Lando pulled the car up to a curb, and you saw that you had arrived at a fancy restaurant. The building was made of brick, with large windows that let in the last bits of the day's sunlight. The sign out front boasted a five-star rating with the name "Bella Vista" written in elegant cursive letters.

Lando turned off the ignition and turned to look at you, a proud smile on his face. "This is where we're eating," he announced, opening his door. He got out and walked around to your side, opening the door for you.

"Bella Vista," you mused, your eyes wide with awe. "Isn't this place like, super expensive?"

Lando led you to a table near a corner, its location providing a measure of privacy. He held your chair out for you, waiting until you sat down before taking the seat across from you.

A waiter soon came over, presenting you each with a menu. As you scanned it, you couldn't help but be impressed by the selection. From the classic spaghetti carbonara to the more exotic seared scallops with truffle oil, there was a range of dishes for every palette.

Lando, noticing your expression, chuckled. The sound sent a frisson down your spine. "See something you like?" he teased, his eyes glinting with a hint of mischief.

You blushed, caught off guard by his question. You hadn't realized that you had been so openly gazing at the menu. "Everything on here looks amazing," you admitted. "I don't know what to choose."

Lando reached across the table and patted your hand. "It's alright, love. Take your time." His touch sent another shiver down your spine, his fingers lingering on your skin for a beat longer than necessary.

Eventually, you decided on a simple but flavorful dish of linguine with clams and white wine sauce. Lando chose a steak dish, medium-rare, with a side of roasted vegetables. The waiter took your order and went to the kitchen, leaving you both with the soft glow of the overhead lights and the flickering of the nearby candelabras.

Lando leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving you. There was a strange intensity in his eyes as if he was committing every detail of this moment to memory.

"You're staring a lot," you suddenly blurted out, the words slipping from your lips before you could catch them. Your cheeks flushed, heat rising the back of your neck.

Lando smiled a slow, cocky smile that caused the butterflies in your stomach to swarm. "Can you blame me? I mean… look at you," he said, his eyes traveling over your form.

The heat in your cheeks intensified, warmth spreading down your throat. Lando's unabashed appraisal wasn't unwelcome, but it was also incredibly intense. You found yourself at a loss for words, unsure of how to reply to his blatant flirting.

"Cat got your tongue?" Lando teased, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on you. He leaned forward, his elbows on the table, and his chin resting on his entwined fingers.

"I..." you started, your voice coming out as a croak. You cleared your throat, trying to ignore the way your body was reacting to his attention. "I... I just wasn't expecting such directness," you admitted, your voice a bit shaky.

Lando's smile widened, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "What, do you prefer men who dance around their feelings, beating around the bush?" he asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

You shook your head, a small laugh escaping you. "No, I appreciate honesty. But your intensity is a bit much," you said, both charmed and a tad overwhelmed by his undivided attention.

Lando chuckled, his gaze never leaving you. "What can I say? When I see something – or someone – I want, I go after it with everything I have," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous purr. "And I want you, love. I make no secret of that."

You swallowed hard, a lump forming in your throat. Lando's unfiltered desire for you was both flattering and slightly unnerving. You couldn't deny the attraction, but the intensity of his possessiveness was... a lot to take in.

Just then, the waiter arrived with your meals, setting the plates down in front of you both. The fragrant aroma of your linguine wafted up to your nose, temporarily distracting you from Lando's intense gaze.

The rest of the meal went by in a blur. You tried to focus on enjoying the delicious food, but Lando's unwavering attention kept stealing your focus. The way he watched you, the way he leaned forward on his forearms, how his eyes darkened every time you bit your lip... It was maddening.

Eventually, the meal was finished, and you found yourself sitting back in your seat, a bit dazed and a lot flustered. Lando, sipping on the last of his wine, observed your expression with a satisfied smirk.

——

As the weeks turned into months, your relationship with Lando had settled into a routine. Despite the initial intensity of his possessiveness, he had mellowed out somewhat, albeit with occasional bouts of jealousy when another man looked your way for a second too long.

But you had grown to care for him and his sweet if not often intense, charm. He was always bringing you little gifts, sending romantic messages during your busy work hours, and showering you with adoration whenever he could.

One night, after you had spent an enjoyable evening together, Lando was sitting on the edge of your bed, facing you. His eyes were dark, his expression thoughtful as he watched you put on your nightgown. The atmosphere in the room was heavy with something unsaid.

"Love..." Lando started, his voice a low rumble. He patted the space next to him on the bed, silently beckoning you closer.

You complied, sitting down next to him. You could feel the warmth of his body even through the fabric of your nightgown, and that familiar shiver of nervousness and anticipation went through you when he put his hand on your bare thigh.

"There's something we need to talk about," he said, his fingers massaging small circles into your skin. "I think it's time we took our relationship to the next level."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. Taking your relationship to the next level could mean a lot of things. But given the tension in the air and the way Lando was looking at you, there was a very good chance you knew what he was hinting at.

"What do you mean?" you asked, your voice a bit huskier than you intended. Lando chuckled huskily, clearly enjoying your flustered response.

"You know exactly what I mean," he murmured, his hand moving higher up your thigh. His touch was gentle but firm, making your body react in ways that you were becoming very familiar with whenever he was near.

"We... we've only been dating for a few months," you protested, though your argument was getting weaker by the second. His touch was sending sparks of pleasure through you, making it hard to focus on anything other than him.

"And I think that's more than enough time..." Lando leaned closer, his lips barely hovering over your neck. "You're mine, love. And I plan on having all of you."

Your breath hitched as Lando's lips grazed your skin. His words sent a wave of heat coursing through you, making it hard to form a coherent thought. "But... but what if I'm not ready for that yet?" you managed to whisper.

Lando pulled away, his expression turning darker, his voice dropping even lower. "Are you saying you don't want me?" he asked, his grip on your thigh firming slightly. "That you don't want us to become closer?"

"No, it's not that," you quickly shook your head. "I do want that... I just... I'm scared it's too soon, that's all. I want things to be perfect."

Lando's expression softened a degree. "Nothing is ever going to be perfect, love," he said, his lips returning to your neck, his breath hot on your skin. "But I promise you, I'm not going to let anything happen to you. I'll take care of you... of us."

Your breath hitched as Lando's mouth found that sensitive spot behind your ear. He knew your body all too well now and had learned all the places that made you shiver and gasp. "Lando... I..." you started, your words lost as he sucked lightly on your earlobe.

"Don't overthink it," Lando murmured, his lips moving down your neck, leaving a trail of burning kisses in their wake. "Just let me take care of you." His hand moved higher up your thigh, his fingers slipping under the hem of your nightgown.

Your breath grew shallow, your pulse racing. Lando's touch was both soothing and igniting, making your body hum with a mixture of pleasure and tension. You weren't sure if you were ready for this, but the way Lando was touching you, the way he was looking at you as if you were the only thing he wanted... it was making it hard to say no.

"You trust me, don't you, love?" Lando whispered, his lips returning to your ear. His hand continued its journey up your leg, his fingers now dancing along the bare skin of your inner thigh.

"I... I trust you..." you murmured, your voice a gasp as Lando's hand continued its path, dangerously close to the most intimate part of you.

Lando hummed in approval, his mouth now trailing kisses down your neck and toward your collarbone. His hand moved higher, his fingers now tracing the edge of your panties. "Then let me show you how it can be between us," he murmured, his voice low and rough with desire.

You were now trembling, your body a mix of want and trepidation. Lando, sensing your hesitation, gently pulled back, his fingers still resting on the edge of your underwear. "If you don't want to, say the word, and I'll stop," he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. He looked at you, his eyes searching yours.

You searched his gaze, looking for any sign of deception or manipulation. But all you saw was intense adoration and desire. Hesitantly, you nodded, your voice a trembling whisper. "I... I want to..."

Lando inhaled sharply, his eyes darkening further. In a swift, smooth motion, he rolled both of you so that you were lying on your back, him hovering over you. His eyes roamed over your body, taking in every inch of exposed flesh.

His hands began roaming over your body, touching and caressing every inch of skin he could reach. He pushed your nightgown up your thighs, his touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. His mouth followed, his lips and tongue exploring every contour of your body.

Your breath came in ragged gasps, your mind a tangle of sensations. Lando's touch was both gentle and relentless, his mouth finding all the spots that made you shiver and gasp. His hands roamed freely, his fingers tracing the edge of your underwear, a silent question for permission.

You were helpless, completely under his spell, your body responding to his touch in ways that both frightened and excited you. "Please..." you managed to murmur, arching your back to press closer to him.

Lando raised his head, looking at you with eyes filled with hunger and lust. "Please what, love?" he asked, his voice a mere rumble.

"Please... don't stop," you gasped, your voice cracking a bit. Lando's lips curved into a sly smile, his fingers slipping under the edge of your panties, sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

"Mmm, you're so eager," he murmured, his mouth returning to your neck. His fingers continued their exploration, teasing and pushing you to the edge. You were whimpering now, your body taut with anticipation.

He chuckled darkly, his voice rough with desire. "You like it when I touch you like this, yes?"

"Yes... god, yes..." you managed to gasp, your hands gripping the sheets underneath you as Lando's touch became more insistent, more demanding.

Lando growled in your ear, his breath hot on your skin. "You're so beautiful," he whispered. "All mine."

His mouth returned to yours, his kiss fierce and possessive. His tongue tangled with yours, and his hands continued their restless journey, making you moan and writhe beneath him.

Suddenly, he pulled back, his eyes dark with lust. "Lift your hips."

You obeyed without thinking, your body responding to his command. Lando's fingers looped into the waistband of your panties, slowly, torturously pulling them down your legs.

He pulled the fabric away, leaving you exposed to his gaze. His eyes roamed your body, taking in every inch of you. Then, he leaned back, his hands going to the buttons of his shirt.

He unbuttoned his shirt with quick, efficient precision, his eyes never leaving you. The sight of his muscled chest, the trail of hair leading downward... it made your mouth go dry.

Lando's eyes darkened as he took off his shirt, revealing acres of tanned, toned muscle. He crawled back on top of you, covering your body with his. The feel of his skin against yours was electrifying, sending jolts of pleasure through your nerves.

His mouth found yours again, his kisses more urgent now, his body pressing into yours. His hands roamed over your bare skin, his touch sending shivers down your spine. His lips left yours, trailing down your neck, your collarbone, your chest.

His mouth reached the valley between your breasts. He nuzzled the sensitive skin there, his breath hot on your flesh. "You're so soft," he murmured against your skin. "So beautiful..."

His mouth continued its journey down your body, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place. "I want you so badly, love," he whispered, his voice raw with need.

Before you could respond, he shifted, settling between your thighs. His mouth found the sensitive skin at the inside of your thigh, his breath hot on your core.

You gasped, arching your back off the bed. Lando's lips and tongue teased the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh, his stubble scratching against your skin, the sensation both maddening and exciting.

He moved higher, his mouth now hovering over your most intimate parts, his breath hot on your skin. "I want to taste you," he murmured, his voice a ragged growl. "I've wanted it since the first day I saw you."

“L-Lando…” you managed to gasp, your mind fuzzy with pleasure. The thought of him touching you, using his mouth on you, was both thrilling and nerve-wracking. No one had ever done that before.

"Shh, love… just let me take care of you," he murmured, his voice soothing yet determined. His hands held your hips firmly, preventing you from moving away.

Then, he did something you never would’ve expected. He leaned down, and his tongue found your most sensitive spot. The pleasure was so intense You cried out, your body tensing at the unexpected sensation. Lando was relentless, his tongue moving in firm, delicious circles, sending jolts of pleasure through your core. Your hands gripped the sheets, your mind a tangle of sensation and He chuckled against your skin, the rumble sending vibrations through you. "No one has ever done this for you before?" he asked, his voice a low, gruff whisper. "No one has touched you like this?"

You managed to shake your head, your body writhing beneath his. It was too much, too intense. No one had ever made you feel this way. Only Lando, only him.

"Good," he murmured, his tongue continuing its torturous work. "I want to be the only one to make you feel like this, love. I want to be the only one to touch you, to taste you...."

His words sent a shiver down your spine. The possessiveness in his voice was both arousing and a little frightening. You knew that if you gave yourself to him, he wouldn’t let you go easily, if at all.

———————————

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[mischievousmoony]

𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚎

𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟺 ⟡ 𝚜𝚖𝚘𝚔𝚎 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔

⟢ james potter x fem!reader

⟢ summary: modern restaurant au; neither you nor james smoke, but remus does . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁1.5k

⟢ warnings/tags: smoking, coworker!james, coworker!marauders, anxious!reader, ooc!remus (imo)

⟢ the new hire masterlist ⟡ main masterlist

"Join me for a smoke break?" James asks, sliding into the space next to you as you punch in an order.

You glance at him through the corner of your eye as his hand reaches out and closes over the edge of the POS terminal, effectively encasing you between him and the wall on your right.

"I don't smoke," you answer as you substitute kale for arugula.

"Neither do I," James smirks mischievously, "but Nate doesn't need to know that."

Your finger pauses over the button for the truffle gnocchi as you turn your head to look at him.

"What?" you ask, your question punctuated by a soft, amused chuckle.

James' tone turns comically serious, "Why should people who smoke be the only ones who get intermittent breaks throughout the workday? It's preposterous, if you ask me."

You bring your hand to your mouth to stifle your growing laughter as you finish ringing in your order.

"What? I'm serious! If smokers can have smoke breaks we should be entitled to- to fresh air breaks," James invents, "It's only fair."

You turn your body to face James fully, resting your hip against the wood of the server station.

"C'mon, take five with me?" James directs a beckoning nod toward the back door.

You shift your gaze from James to survey the dining room, mentally tallying your tables. Once you find that all food have been served and all patrons have been checked on, you conclude that you can spare five minutes for James.

"Alright, I do have a few minutes to myself," you agree.

James beams at you, sidestepping to make some room, "Ladies first."

You shake your head jovially as you pass him, leading the way through the back hall. As you pass the staff room, James jogs ahead of you and lays a flat palm against the back door. He pushes it open, and the soft light of the setting sun hits you as you walk through.

"What a gentleman," you muse playfully, your eyes remaining on him as you pass.

James’ ever present smile grows.

“What can I say?”

When James lets the door close behind you both, you see that you’re not the only ones who needed a little break.

Remus, the head chef, stands with his back pressed to the wall with a lit cigarette hanging lazily between his lips.

“Remus!” James cheers, the sudden increase in his volume making you jump.

The boys’ hands clasp and they tug each other into a side hug.

You stand idly by as they exchange pleasantries, your hands finding themselves stuffed into the pockets of your apron.

In your opinion, Remus is somewhat intimidating. Your initial impression of him was formed by seeing him shout about a mistake on a ticket. You’ve since come to find out he does not shout as often as you feared he would, but a part of you is still on edge around him, as if one wrong move will put you on the receiving end of an outburst.

So needless to say, you’re slightly surprised at how warmly he interacts with James outside of the kitchen.

You’ve never seen Remus away from the line before. He seems a lot more relaxed out here, although, that might have to do with the dwindling cigarette between his lips.

“Your girl smoke?” Remus asks, suddenly putting the attention on you, “Or is James being a bad influence? Getting you to slack off, is he, sweetheart?”

Your eyebrows shoot up. You had thought your coworkers would stop referring to you as “James’ girl” once you had concluded your training with him. The fact that it's still said occasionally is something you don’t know how to feel about. Perhaps slightly embarrassed, and perhaps slightly warm inside.

“I’m not a bad influence,” James interjects, defending himself, “We’re simply taking a fresh air break.”

Now that James has coined that phrase, you can expect to hear it frequently pass his lips for weeks to come.

“A fresh air break?” Remus barks a laugh, “Here’s some fresh air for ya.”

Remus puffs a cloud of smoke in James’ direction.

James holds his arms out to the side, welcoming the smoke, even fanning it towards himself, “Nice try, mate. The more smokey I smell the less suspicious dear Natey will be. Keep it coming.”

You laugh at the exchange and Remus meets your eye, slightly smiling at your amusement. James follows Remus' gaze, looking over his shoulder at you.

"Want some?" James offers.

You take a step back, "I think I'll take my chances without it."

Remus shakes his head slightly as he drops his cigarette to the ground and puts it out with his shoe. "I better get back on the line," he says, reaching for the door.

"See ya, mate," James says.

At the same time, you emit a timid, "Bye."

"Enjoy your fresh air," Remus says through another spell of laughter as he disappears into the restaurant.

James meets your eye as the door clicks shut, and he notices the slight look of surprise painted on your face.

"What's that look?" James asks, stepping closer.

You shake your head, "Nothing, I- well, I didn't expect Remus to be so..." you trail off, but James seems to know what you mean.

"Yeah, well, he's secretly a big softie. You should see him when he's away from this place," James pats restaurant's exterior wall warmly.

You tilt your head slightly, "You've seen him outside of work?"

"Oh, yeah. Him and Sirius," James relaxes against the wall, "Some of the others too, but it's been a while since we've done a big thing. Not since before you started here."

James seems to want to make sure you know that you haven't been left out of anything, and you smile at his thoughtfulness.

"That's nice," you say simply, settling against the wall next to James.

He smiles down at you, "Do you think you'd come to something like that? If a bunch of us went out after work or something?"

James feels a little giddy at the thought of seeing you outside of work, but he doesn't show it, or really acknowledge the feeling at all.

You look a bit taken off guard at the question, your eyes widening a fraction, "Oh! I- yeah. Yeah, I'm sure that would be fun."

James gravitates a little closer to you, his shoulder nearly touching yours, "Yeah?"

He flashes his pearly white teeth at you, and you have to fight the urge to shrink away from him.

In the weeks you've worked here, you've grown quite comfortable around James. It's easy with him, his presence always so warm and inviting. Your heart doesn't race with anxiety when you talk to him like it still does with some of your other coworkers.

Not always, anyway.

Sometimes, when James gets close or beams at you with that perfect smile of his— both of which he's doing now— your heart rate picks up and something you haven't acknowledged yet flutters in the pit of your stomach.

You swallow hard. "Yeah," you repeat, your voice coming out a bit hoarse as you take in how his hair falls across his face and the way the golden light from the setting sun highlights his skin.

As much as you want to stay in this moment, you fear that any longer and you might melt, so you push yourself off the wall and step away.

"We've probably had plenty of fresh air," you say, "and we don't want to keep out tables waiting too long."

"Sure, of course," James nods, "but, um..."

James trails off, scratching the back of his neck like he does when he's feeling sheepish.

"But what?" you wonder, your tone soft.

"Find me if you ever need some more fresh air, yeah?"

You press your lips together to hide how wide you're compelled to smile, "Sure thing, James."

The both of you make your way back into the building, only to stop in your tracks as Nate crosses in front of you, exiting his office.

He furrows his bushy brows at the sight of you two. "Smoke break?" he asks.

You and James both nod, James a bit more inconspicuous than you.

Nate squints when his eyes fall on you, "You smoke, kid?"

"Totally," you respond, eyes darting to James.

"Oh, yeah she smokes. We did so much smoking out there. Tons," James says with a grin, his tone so exaggeratedly convincing it’s almost comical.

You stifle a laugh as James continues.

"Had to take the edge of, you know. Hectic day. You want to hear about it? I had this table–"

"Alright, alright," Nate cuts James off, waving his hands exasperatedly, "I get it, just get back to work."

"You got it, boss," James calls after him as Nate continues down the hall.

Once Nate is out of earshot, you catch James’ eye, and the two of you can’t help but burst into laughter.

[jolapeno]

15. raspberry truffle

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter fifteen of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.1k chapter warnings: smut. 18+. jo's mirror love resurfaces and armchairs are used as more than things sat behind desks. lots of mouth to mouth resus. smut. also there's smut. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. an: I've had this image in my head for so long...

prev chapter | series masterlist

“Do you trust me?”

It's a simple question. One he’s asked you time and time before, but never with the current look in his eye he’s currently wearing.

Dressed in a tight grey tee and a pair of black sweats. Hatless, teased curls frame his face as you rest against your counter. The one you’ve seen for the first time in some days.

It strikes you that the only reason you're standing in your home, to begin with, is because of the email informing you that some of your new furniture had been dispatched.

His mouth had been sealed to your neck, fingers grasping at your waist as you read it out, distracted, attention not entirely focused on him until his hand snaked between your legs, in his sheets, in his bed—the one you’d now found to be far more comfortable than your own—as he whispered, I can build it for you.

And, he did. Had done.

Putting his tool on the side as he rejoins you. A nominal irk bubbling through you that the toolbox it lives in is one foot away, it vanishing when he steps closer, presses you further against it. Cool, firmness meets your spine as his body corners you.

He looms in a way that makes your heart double as you wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him. Deeply.

“Should I trust you, handsome?”

Snorting, his laugh fluttering over your lips. “I think you should.”

Lips pursing, narrowing your eyes teasingly, you feel his thumb sliding the fabric of your top up and down your hip bone.

“You are biased though.” His head lolls from side to side as he hums, fingers pinching at the bottom of your top. “Do you think I should because you built my chair?”

As soon as he slides his arm around your waist, your back arches. Chest desperate to be flush. Heart aching to be near to his.

“No. Because you love me.”

Sighing, nodding—all playful. A smirk just there, all beneath the surface. “Oh. That thing.”

Tracing his nose against yours, a smile trying to beam, but he mirrors how you hold back. “That thing.”

When he’s close like this, it’s almost criminal when you’re not kissing him. When you’ve not slanted your mouth against his soft lips, felt the roughness of the hair on his face against your palm, buried your fingers into his curls and pulled a little to earn that groan he does. The one, if it were a thing that could be possible, you’d love etched into your brain.

The thought of which makes you want to peel your clothes off.

Already so hungry for a thing you’ve been feasting at a buffet for the last number of days. Yet, still wanting, still needing.

“You really play a long game,” you say, more sweet. And his nose scrunches, frowning as you smirk. “Waiting this long, getting me to fall in love with you, and then killing me in my own office.”

“Oh yeah, I’m a mastermind.”

Laughing, you twirl a curl around your finger, finding the hair a little longer. “Okay,” you reply, sealing it to his lips, “I trust you—you get my blood on my new chair you’ve just built, I’m going to haunt you.”

“It’s not a punishment that you’d want to spend the rest of your days haunting me, Rainy.”

His hips dip, becoming aware of the effect you have on him too as his growing bulge rubs against your parted thighs. A moan escapes, body jolting at the welcome friction. The sound leaves so softly, barely loud enough to disrupt his mouth from being on yours.

But it does.

“Do you trust me?”

The four words repeated, answered hurriedly. No game, no tease.

His mouth comes close to your ear, a chaste kiss left along your hairline as his hand clutches your waist for stability, and you forget how to breathe.

“Close your eyes, baby.”

As you do, his fingers, clean and soft, all but sawdust stained, slide over your eyes—his chest to your back as he leads you down a familiar path that suddenly feels foreign. Trusting.

Your nose tunes in. Takes in the scent that is equivocally just him, one you’re thankful has begun seeping into your home as much as he has your heart. Hearing him whisper instructions, watch this, be careful, until you're body is shifted on its axis.

His fingers slide from your vision, allowing you to blink, see him, smiling at the sight of him.

“Fuck you’re handsome.”

Backing you up against the newly painted office wall, your arm hooks around his neck again, mouth ghosting over his as a hand hovers over your hip.

“Still trust me?”

Nodding, you feel his breath on your parted lips, before he slides his mouth over yours. Searing. Burning—all determined as his tongue slides past your teeth and his fingers slide up your neck, tracing your jaw. It makes you delirious. Dizzy. Thoughts nothing but lost to you until you glance past him and see it.

The built chair, in the nearly decorated office. The desk it should be behind is still a week out, but the chair, mirror and plants are all set up—the shelves adorned with bits you have for now.

“Hey?” he says, eyes snapping back to him.

Spotting the bubbling molten in his eyes, remembering how your body is aflame—

Then the next question comes. “Can I taste you, baby?”

Nodding, you whisper your answer into the air as he leads you, guides you all over again, moving you closer and more towards your new chair. Mouth latching itself to yours, palms on either side of your cheeks, before his hand steals the cushion, and throws it down.

“You look so beautiful, baby,” he whispers, trailing the words down your neck, along your collarbone.

It makes a gasp flutter from your lips, feeling your insides knot, likely dampening the fabric between your thighs, making nothing short of a mess—

“Gonna take these off, okay?”

Your tongue thickens in your head, swallowing a whimper at the feel of his thumbs hooking inside your shorts and slipping them down your thighs. The fabric skims, sliding, before they fall with a soft thud and he's guiding you to sit down in the armchair.

Taking a breath, you stare, captivated. Frankie sinking, kneeling before you on the cushion. “Part your legs for me.”

“Shit, Frankie.”

“Baby.”

Swallowing, you do. Then, it’s delicate, soft.

The gentlest of kisses up the inside of your thighs. Aware of the heat of his fingers pushing your knees further into the arms of the armchair, tuned into the way he exhales through his nose, cool air teasing over your already slick, cloth-covered pussy—the chair groaning when you buck your hips.

“Rainy.”

He grunts it. Low—warningly. It comes from a place in the back of his throat, grating and gravelly as he stares up at you. Nothing but brown dipped in more brown holding your gaze. Usually, it would make you smirk, but instead, you mumble an apology.

One that trails off; turns into a whine when he drags his tongue over the already-drenched fabric.

You’re not sure how it’s possible but you moan like you’ve been teased for hours. Sure that with a few more, you could be close—

“I want you to look in that mirror, and see how beautiful you look as I do this.”

“Frankie, I…”

His hand slides up, right between your still-covered breasts, before cupping your cheek, thumb under your jaw, eyes searching, sweeping and locating. “Look for me.”

Flicking your eyes to it, the ornate thing you’d not been sure you wanted until he’d slid his arms around your waist. Buried his face into your neck. Told you it was nice.

You’d agreed then, you most definitely did. Nodding, letting a little whispered okay escape as he nods. Staring, trying not to pick apart what you see in the reflection. The way your eyes look tired, skin not as bright as it normally would be. That is until he nips at your skin. Pulls your gaze from your own to the back of his head.

“Beautiful—”

“Frankie,” you sigh.

Hand coming over your face, heat blooming in your cheeks as you feel him kiss your inner knee. Thumb stroking at your skin, circling, before he taps. A silent request, a reminder: look at yourself.

You do.

“You are so beautiful, Rainy.” He dips his head—becoming aware of the finger sliding in the gusset of your plainest underwear, dragging the fabric, pulling it from your soaked core all the way to the side.

“I thought it when I first saw you.”

Air blowing across your core, before he places the most delicate, softest kiss against your swollen clit.

“Think it now, seeing you sat in your new chair, in your new office.”

You feel your chest heave, see it. Staring at the way the muscles strain in your neck from not moving, before he drags a long, slow stripe up from your aching hole to your nerves.

And he groans, low and dull. It vibrates against you before his tongue swipes again, hands pushing your inner thighs apart before he dives again. Sliding his tongue between your folds, licking, drawing.

He’s slow in his movements, measured. Delves as much of himself into you before wet, roaring heat swirls around and encases your clit as his growl sends flames up your spine.

That’s when he slides his fingers in. Curls them. Moves them in slow thrusts.

The whine of his name you let escape is sinful, practically unrecognisable. Your hips moving, unable to tear yourself away from staring at the way your mouth hangs open, panting, moaning, as you rock your hips, fuck yourself on his fingers, on his tongue, as you hope his other hand on your hip will leave a mark. Half moons or bruises, or even fucking both—

“Frankie, please.”

The angle of the mirror not only allows you to see the sight of him taking you apart, but how the act seemingly undoes him. How his shirt is stretched across his shoulder blades, how his muscles ripple under the thin fabric as you hold on to every thread as the pads of his fingers curl more into you. All come hither, beckoning the incoming wave you know is going to wash over the two of you.

And it turns you on.

“You like it, querida? Like watching yourself.”

“Like watching you.”

And you swear you feel him smirk as your hips lift, desperate for more, eyes speckled with spots as your nails grip the arm of the chair, the other lost and tangled in his curls.

It’s so good, so fucking good.

He’d make you confess, make you tell him everything—no matter the secret, you’re sure he could pull it from you like this. Have you spilling, as though he’s cracking you open, and even helping him translate the parts of you he’s yet to understand or know.

“So perfect squeezing around me, baby. Love how you taste—always taste so fucking good.”

Your back is off the chair, grinding into him, so close you can’t even think, can barely speak.

“Want you to come on my tongue, Rainy. Need you too.”

“Fuck.”

“That’s it. Let yourself feel good, baby. Use me, use—”

And you do.

Fuck. You do.

Your cry echoes and bangs around the walls before slamming into your ears. Legs shaking. Mind sludge as you come down from your high to his soothing touch, to his whispers, to his words that make you feel like you’re in heaven. Not just here, with his shoulders supporting your knees, but all the time.

It’s why you bring his mouth to yours. Messily, all disorientated from the high of him as you taste yourself on his mouth, on his tongue—the tang of what he’d done to you evidenced.

It makes you want, need.

You’re not sure how the two of you made it to the bedroom so cleanly.

His clothes are scattered, left in the hallway; a path that leads from one moment to the other. Your knees were likely bruised from how you dropped to them in the doorway, straddling the hallway and bedroom as you palmed him through his underwear, eyes wide, looking up.

“I love your cock, Frankie.” Hooking a finger in the band, dragging the fabric to his ankles, to the ground. “Like how heavy it feels on my tongue cock.”

Hand slowly wrapping around him, pumping once, twice.

“Fuc...”

His curse isn't able to form when your mouth wraps around him, taking him in your mouth. As much of him as you could. Hearing him groan, grunt—seeing his nostrils flare before his forehead presses into the crease of his elbow as he leans it against the door. His breath stammers, palm cupping the back of your head casually as he tenses, muscles straining, body stiff.

All you can think is you wish this image could be painted, commemorated; hung somewhere for your eyes to see everywhere, every day.

Because he's backlit by the afternoon, shadows cascade from the half-drawn curtains of your room, bicep flexing as you take him down your throat, loosening it as much as you can until the tip of your nose finds itself in his curls.

“So big, Frankie.”

He groans, at the same time as you taste salt, it pooling at the back of your throat. Your eyes flick up to see his jaw slackening, nostrils flaring when your tongue swirls around the tip, hollowing your cheeks, feeling him twitch in your mouth—

“Bed.”

It’s hissed, strangled, as he pulls himself from between your lips and spit trails over your lower lip and chin.

“Now?” you tease.

“Now.”

His hands, all capable and strong, haul you to your feet. Finding a home on your hips, directing and shifting you until you’re on familiar sheets, turned over, stomach flush to your mattress as he trails his mouth down your spine.

“Wanna fuck you.”

“Then fuck me.”

It’s different, the way your bodies come together. The way he swallows your hiss when he bottoms out, stretching around him, fingers clinging and clutching at him.

“Y’too good to me, Frankie.”

“Impossible,” he whispers.

Mouth sliding up over your neck, nose catching on your skin, his hand dips between your bodies—where you’re joined, where you’re full and stretched around him. It’s bliss. Perfection. One you endure so regularly but don’t become used to, each time as taken back by how good it feels to be seated fully inside you as his fingers tease your swollen nerves.

It’s with a smooth thrust do your fingers brush over his face, finding his cheek, mouth and nose, guiding with your eyes closed for his mouth to seal itself over yours. Hips moving, thrusting, meeting him each time as you grow slicker, making a mess of him and the sheets beneath you.

Mouth slotted over his, moaning passed his teeth, hands clutching his cheek, the back of his neck, fingers teasing his curls. “Fuck, Frankie. Fu—“

He grins, you feel it. His hand slides from your slick-covered clit to your hip, along your waist, travelling and travelling until his palm cups your breast—until his finger and thumb are pinching your hardened peak. All the time kissing you, open mouths, breathing one another as his pace quickens. As you feel the early signs of your thighs tremoring, seeking something to grip, to hold on tight—

“Love how you take me.”

You whine. Gasping.

And he’s smooth with it. The way he slides your hand from his cheek and down towards the bed. Hingeing you, making you go down onto all fours as he kisses down your neck, trails his tongue, leaving a searing wet line before he’s under your arm, snaking his mouth over as much skin as he can get.

“Baby—“

“I know,” he grunts, puncturing it with several thrusts. “Feels good, you always feel good.”

Your eyes clench shut, mouth falling open at the angle. At the way it makes your toes curl in nothing. Something tightening, something that makes the corners of your vision blot and darken. It close. Liquid heat forming, swirling in your stomach, in your need and you—

A whine rips from your throat. All stained in disappointment, in loss as he pulls out. Leaves you empty, desperate.

You almost hiss. Throwing your head over your shoulder as you glance back to see him breathing heavily, chest oiled with sweat, hand squeezing himself at the base, a lopsided grin spread into his cheek as his other hand slides over your side. Urging, silently requesting.

“Roll onto your back, Rainy.”

It centres you, roots you when his elbows come down on either side of you.

Warm, hot mouth sliding over your jaw, his hand gripping yours, holding you tight as he teases, slides the tip of his cock through your messy folds, taunting your swollen clit.

“I love you,” he groans, pushing himself in, completely to the hilt, all in one smooth movement.

You swear he's deeper. Always say so until he trails his hand up the side of your leg, lifting them, hooking them over his waist as you wrap them around his back, and dig your ankles into his lower spine.

“Feel so good.”

“You make me feel so good.”

Your chin tips up, feeling him press open-mouth kisses to your throat. Likely feeling the vibrations of your moans against his lips, his tongue.

“Yeah?”

Nodding, rustling your head against the dishevelled sheets as his breath fans over your collarbone, “Only you.”

His pace quickens, snaps his hips to yours, grunting, moaning—the sounds making you clench around him. Chasing your second orgasm, walls fluttering around him as your fingers tighten around his, as he grasps your hip and fucks into you. Spears into you.

“I love you too,” you moan.

“I’m close. So close. Want to feel you, baby. Can you come, baby, come for me—”

Fingers knotting tighter around his, vision spotting, it all pooling, all set to spread.

Then, it snaps, splinters.

You cry out. Body erupting.

Nothing but heat and fire surging through you as you are washed in it. Drowned it. Never wishing to be saved as you go under, as your hearing fades and your eyes blur. Only aware, distantly, of the way your skin tingles as it lights with a blaze.

But, you do catch his guttural groan. The way he stills, paused, as his eyes clench and your name is buried into your ear—feeling him collapse on you.

A weight you love.

His heart hammering against yours, breath strained, difficult as you clutch at him, pulling him closer if that is at all possible. Even if it's just for a moment, before steam fills your bathroom and soap suds slide down both of your skin.

Because it's a weight that makes you smile every time, every day. One you adore. One you never want to not know.

You say as much against his mouth as your lips sloppily meet his, smiling, grinning against his mouth.

I love you.

Love you too, Rainy.

an: this was almost titled the last smut. (because of the series coming to an end, not because of some unhappy ending)

NEXT CHAPTER ->

[hansensgirl]

summary. | Your sugar daddy’s jealousy is something you’ll just have to get used to.

prompts. | Lloyd Hansen + Sugar Daddy + “That’s no way to talk to your future husband.” + Daddy kink, requested by Anonymous.

pairing. | dark!sugar daddy!Lloyd Hansen x fem!reader.

warnings. | NON/DUBCON, jealousy, possessiveness, obsession, lloyd being rude (not to reader), pet names, Daddy kink, sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, power imbalance, forced engagement, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!

author’s note. | this is a part of my Dark Concepts (2023) request form. thank you for taking part in this event! please enjoy and don’t forget to reblog. MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY! taglist: @hansensfics

Lloyd is your first sugar daddy, but you aren’t his first sugar baby. He knows the ins and outs of the entire relationship, what is expected and what isn’t. He showed you the ropes and, of course, tailored them to suit him best.

You find he isn’t too bad. Your friends warned you of the arrangement, worrying that you’ll grow attached or end up crashing down with no prospects at all. But Lloyd always shooed those thoughts away and quieted them with his lavish gifts and equally as tantalizing attention.

But the long stretches of absence and his secrecy make you want to break things off entirely. You know you’re not Lloyd’s girlfriend—you probably never will be. That doesn’t stop you from feeling lonely or as though you’ve been left out in the cold.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts when the waiter brings you the menus, hand lingering on yours for a little too long. Lloyd notices this—of course he does. You both sit in the private room of the restaurant, which has been shut down and guarded for added measures.

You still don’t know what Lloyd does, but you hope you haven’t gotten yourself tangled up in something illegal.

The waiter still stands there. “S’that all, bus boy?” Lloyd rudely asks, and the younger man quickly scurries off once he sees the look on your sugar daddy’s face. 

Lloyd sighs and turns his attention back to you while you try to ignore what just happened and focus on choosing a meal. He stares at you intently, unnerving you. 

“You know what you’re getting, darling?” Lloyd questions, smoothing his mustache with his fingers. “Probably some pasta,” you joke, quickly glancing up at him. He nods, sipping on the wine that you both started with. “What about you, Daddy?” you ask, closing the menu and placing it on the table.

The older man grabs your left hand and holds it gently, a gesture he loves. He caresses your fingers, and it soothes you, making you want to get out of here and curl up in bed. 

Thankfully, Lloyd isn’t too crazy about sex. You’ve read stories about some sugar daddies pushing their sugar babies away with their insatiable needs, although they lacked the awareness to see that they were hurting those women. 

However, when you two do have sex, it is always mind-blowing.

“I’ll do the same. I think they have a good truffle pasta here. We’ll get that,” Lloyd says, and you smile. You both gaze at each other, almost lovingly, until the same waiter returns.

He clears his throat, and Lloyd snaps his eyes to glare at the younger man. He stutters before turning his attention to you, giving you a flirty smile. You recognize his intentions but ignore them. You’re not interested in anyone except for your sugar daddy right now.

“Are you ready to order?” he asks, and you nod before looking at Lloyd. He always does the talking for you. “We’ll get your truffle pasta, with a side of you not eye-fucking my girl like a little shithead. Got that? Oh, and a to-go box, too,” the older man says, and you gasp at his words.

“Daddy–” you start, and he tuts. “By the way, this wine? Your personal recommendation? It tastes like shit. I could make something better myself,” Lloyd sneers, and you wince. It’s certainly not the first time he’s been rude to someone else in front of you, but the root cause of it annoys you. 

Jealousy is an ugly, green-eyed monster that rears its head whenever you go out with Lloyd Hansen, even though your relationship is not like that.

“Y– Yes, Sir. Sorry. I’ll be right back with your order,” the waiter shivers in fear. He scurries off, and Lloyd chuckles. “Was that really necessary?” you hiss, voice no louder than a whisper. “Of course, princess. C’mon, don’t be mad at me. He’s been giving you the puppy eyes since we got here,” Lloyd coos. You sigh deeply. “So? That doesn’t mean you should insult him,” you continue, and Lloyd rolls his eyes. 

“What do you want Daddy to do? Huh? Apologize?” he scoffs. “Actually, yeah. You should apologize to him for being such an asshole, Daddy,” you fume, speaking harder than usual. You just wanted a nice night out.

“That’s no way to talk to your future husband, honey,” Lloyd chides, and you nearly laugh. “Future husband? Yeah, right.” You go to pull your hand away from his, but he doesn’t let go. Suddenly, you realize one of your digits feels a little heavier.

You look down to see an engagement ring on your fourth finger, with a fat rock that nearly blinds you. 

“You may be laughing now, but all that wedding planning is gonna make you cry. But don’t worry, Daddy’ll be there every step of the way.”

[kirain]

Tav: I think he really spruces the place up.

Lae'zel: Morel less.

Karlach: He's definitely starting to grow on me.

Astarion: I agree, darling. He's a real fun-gi.

Wyll: I don't know. I think there's some shroom for improvement.

Shadowheart: He was a bit of a spore-loser, wasn't he? That's probably what got him in truffle in the first place.

Karlach: I love this so mush.

Gale: What are you all looking at?

Gale: ...

Gale: ...

Gale: ...

Tav: Gale? You, uh ... you okay?

Gale: I can't do this. I'm just not stroganoff.

[skyeslittlecorner]

Uhuhuhu don't worry, dear! This idea is perfect~

I've wondered about this a few times myself. Sure, many of us are degenerates (affectionate), but fiction is fiction, and most people in reality would probably react with fear. Still, I'm sure those devils wouldn't deliberately hurt MC (even the crazier ones are smart enough not to spoil a good toy).

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

Satan doesn't think much, because what is there to think about? He's as rough and wild as ever. It's only when he feels you tremble and sees tears welling in your eyes that he stops, confused. Something hurts you? Someone hurt you? Should he fight them? He sees something is wrong, but you have to tell him you're scared. Gentle sex is not his default setting. Although, he learns quickly. You will establish a safe signal, and use it if something become too much. He tells you to hold his horns to control him, but he won't let you share his feelings so as not to overstimulate you. During sex he will try his best to be sensitive and gentle, you should guide his hands and mouth, and pull his horns if he gets too excited. In fact, play with them as much as you want. Scratch, tug, bite. Reward him for how good he is to you. You will have to experiment a lot to find a solution that will make you both fulfilled, and his fascination with you will only increase because he has never met someone so interesting before.

Mammon is the perfect partner for someone who is scared. Even though he is huge… everywhere, he is aware of it. He doesn't want to tear you apart, so he would be gentle either way. This makes the whole thing very slow and delicate. He will see that something is wrong even before he starts approaching you. You can count on affectionate caresses and you will be showered with words of assurance. His greatest fulfillment is your happiness, and it is much more satisfying than an orgasm. When you start opening up to him and want more, more touch, more words, more of him, you will turn him on with just your growing greed. He may take the initiative, he may give it to you, but know that you are his ideal every time, no matter what happens, and he will treat you as such.

Beelzebub, like Satan, will not come up on his own with the idea that sex is something to be afraid of. Enlighten him, and he will be even more fascinated by you than before. When he licks his lips with sparkling eyes, you feel like you've made a mistake. Now he wants to devour you even more. Such a tasty, fresh meal. He wants to observe your reactions. Study you as the last representative of an extinct species. Your inexperience combined with burning lust are so delicious that in comparison white truffles with beluga caviar taste like fast food from a stand. As it turns out later, you have nothing to be afraid of, because he is a perfect lover. He adapts to you as if he knew subcutaneously what you need. You will start your adventure with sex with the best oral of your life, and it will only get better from there.

Leviathan is torn. On the one hand, the fact that you're afraid is irritating because you won't want anything hard. On the other hand, if he doesn't touch you, and you will be the one hitting him, maybe you'll agree? Despite superficial considerations, deep down he knows better than anyone what it means to be afraid of touch. There is a way. Tell him he's your first, and you'll tip the scales in your favor. He may make an exception for you, but only this one time. He will be in control, but he will be extremely gentle, kissing your body, observing the strong reactions to the most innocent touch. Seeing how defenseless you are, he may even lower his guard enough for you to unbutton his shirt, see his scars, and kiss them tenderly. He will be shocked that despite them, you think he is perfect. This one gentle moment will never happen again, but Leviathan will replay it in his head every time he sees you. He was protecting himself from you touching his body, but you touched his soul.

As for my choice, it couldn't have been anyone else than him.

You could dream of the perfect guy who will help you overcome your fear, but Amon will still be better. He's incredibly intelligent and perceptive, and what's more, he's turned on by your uncertainty. What more could you want? You don't even have to touch him to make him cum. You just need to let him observe and worship you. If you pull his collar or call him "good boy", he will melt before your eyes. He will dispel all your fears. This will be a long, slow adoration where you can tell him all your concerns. Twisted past? He won't fix it, but will give you beautiful new memories. Are you afraid you won't satisfy him? A hard on in his pants says otherwise, and you haven't even touched it yet. Or maybe you're just not used to being touched? His fingers will stroke you like silk, like the most precious thing he has ever seen. Because you are. You are his salvation. He already trusts you implicitly, you don't have to be afraid, just lose yourself in him.

[alwaysoutofpaper]

the livestock of haek (top) and haen'oi (bottom), found in and around the landmass/island of Tunib'sau

wanted to draw up some creatures because I haven't created much hae planet fauna. ramblings below the cut, but it's a lot. all you really need to know is all of these animals can be eaten :)

uli'ni are highly social, omnivorous pack hunters (or ambush predators in small numbers), used for pest control by haek. a village can have a near 1:3 ratio of uli'ni to haek, with the pack usually belonging to a single family, or being cared for communally in some cases. bright, soft coats are sought after by haek wanting a pet. there has been a trend of uli'ni being imported into the city as an exotic pet - mainland uli'ni are a lot nastier.

tade are like truffle pigs. they can sniff out root plants from under dirt and snow, so they are critical for farmers when poor weather conditions would normally make harvests miserable. they are usually eaten along with the plants they help harvest. their "wool" is used for bed, bedding, clothes, and other textile things that are otherwise difficult to create with limited fibers. most shed their coats seasonally, but a mainland variety is bred to grow them continuously like sheep.

rudon are the fastest growing, hardest to handle source of protein a haek could ask for. they burrow under the snow, and further into the ground when it isn't covered. raising them is more difficult than hunting them in the wild, but some haek still try, creating stone-lined pits they will fill with dirt to keep rudon contained. they can wreak havoc on any plantlife if left unchecked, so they are rarely raised in the same village as a root plant farm. their fatty tails are used for tallow, which can be sold at high prices or traded for goods if transportation is possible and a surplus is available.

ta'fer is essentially a much meaner lobster. they can pinch, bite, and smack someone around with their tail. they are aggressive to anything that isn't a ta'fer, and evasive when they feel threatened, which makes them difficult to handle without immense caution. the meat is worth it to most haen'oi, though, and just the act of raising them garners a whole lot of respect.

bibbits are some of the most abundant fish (calling them that cus they look like that) in the oceans, found all over the world with different variations. the bibbits found around Tunib'sau are very boney, but those bones are soft and thin, not removed unless necessary (like for baby haek, it could be a choking hazard - baby haen-oi don't have this problem). bibbits are usually smoked and eaten whole for haek, or eaten raw in the water by haen-oi. they are very flavorful, but don't keep well.

le'bul, or the "walking jewel", is a six-limbed nautilus-like critter. they have tentacle-lined arms like octopus, but lack the chromatophores of the same species. they instead rely on their shells for defense and camouflage, evolved to mimic different types of coral, depending on the region they're in. the le'bul shown above grows a shell resembling coral found almost exclusively in underwater caves. tracking them down is a difficult task, but they can be lured out with bibbits, so actually catching them is pretty simple. their shells are often used as decoration or storage depending mostly on the condition of it after the rest of the body is removed.

lastly, corin is basically just a really big tilapia. high in protein, low in fat. their meat is white and not the most flavorful, but it keeps well and their bones are good for making broth. there are much better, tastier fish out there, but these are the easiest for haen'oi to herd, hunt and trade, so it is the most popular option. they're the closest thing to a domestic fish you can get in those waters. some even let you pet them :)

[gainerhousexxx]

Darren

Darren had always been talented in the kitchen, even from a young age. When he graduated high school he went to the culinary academy, where he specialized in making chocolate. He always loved creating beautiful chocolate desserts and truffles; almost as much as he enjoyed eating them.

He would always make too much of every recipe and try to pass it off to his friends. They gladly took them every time, until one of his greedier friends started to notice all of the sweets burying his abs in a layer of fat. Darren had noticed too; which is kind of why he kept offering.

Now that he couldn't get rid of his desserts as quickly, Darren just surrendered to eating them himself. His own abs started to disappear as he consumed more and more of his decadent chocolate treats. He kept a double-boiler on at all times, drinking thick creamy liquid chocolate. He loved the warm feeling of it in his mouth, as it traveled to his stomach, keeping his growing belly warm and full.

Once Darren heard about Gainer House, he knew he had to join. He became the resident chocolatier and now makes delectable treats for everyone to enjoy. Unlike before, he can barely keep up! Sometimes it even gets used in unconventional ways 😉

Subscribe at the link below for access to the entire Gainer House collection and all future creations!

[ssaeri]

for your eyes only

☆ tags: elliott x gn!reader, elliott and farmer are married, he writes love poems for his spouse and is told to monetize them, oh boy is he not happy about that ☆

You pat your pig's backside encouragingly and coo as it digs its snout into the ground, unearthing yet another truffle that you add to your basket. Can't believe you were worried about this one being the runt of its litter—it's quickly proving to be one of the fastest learners, taking to truffle hunting like a duck to water. It'll do just fine with the rest of the adult pigs.

Taking care of the farm by yourself has always been a gargantuan task, but as the years go by, everything grows bigger—the coops, the barns, the ponds, the crops, the expectations—and exhaustion wears you down to the bone. You sigh and push to your feet, ready to head into the nearest coop to collect more eggs. Collect animal products, drop them into churning machines, harvest and sell. It feels like the cycle never ends. Against your neck, the small mermaid's pendant slides on its chain, another reminder of your absent husband. An extra pair of helping hands made the daily work light; you wonder if it's selfish to ask him to stay home more often.

"I know, I know," you say to your angry chickens once you open the door. You miss your husband, but these girls like to remind you that they miss him more. "He'll be home soon. Bear with me, okay?"

After giving each of them pats on the head, a motion they accept with reluctance, you dig around the hay for eggs. The large chicken and dinosaur eggs are easy to spot, but for the delicate duck eggs, you prod every corner with your fingers until you come across something warm and smooth. You push away your hens as they peck at your hands. The ducks are fine with you. The chickens, however...how in the world did Elliott win them over?

Outside, your dog barks. A single warning to the intruder before the tone shifts into excitement. Someone familiar, then. Maybe Marnie is stopping by to give you some hay like she mentioned last night. With winter approaching, any addition to your reserves is appreciated, and you're already wiping your hands on your overalls to greet her.

"Hey, Marnie! I'm just in here—"

You stop in your tracks when the visitor raises his head, though he's not exactly a visitor. Elliott smiles as you draw close, ignoring the horde of chickens now lining the fence for his attention. Their wings flap, clucking loudly as they hit each other.

"Good morning, my love," he says over the noise, as if it really is the start to a normal day. His thumb reaches out to rub at a dirt smudge on your cheek. "Have you eaten yet?"

"Just some leftovers and coffee," you reply, dazed. Your husband tends to have that effect, and after two weeks apart, you feel it more than ever. You lean into his touch, comforting against your wind-blown skin. "I thought you were coming home tomorrow?"

"I decided to come back early. The office didn't need me today, anyway."

"You should've messaged me! I would've picked you up at the train station," you say. Behind him sits his traveling suitcase, the wheels speckled with mud from being dragged through the road. He steps in front of it. "Why don't you go get unpacked? I'll be done soon."

He leans his elbows onto the fence, tilting his head until his fiery hair spills over one shoulder. "You're rather quick to dismiss my presence. If I didn't know better, I'd say that you're unhappy to see me," he says, though his words hold no accusation. It's merely a way to boost his ego when you reassure him. After all, you practically radiate by his side. "Would you like me to help?"

You glance at the dress shoes, the slacks, the spotless cardigan that he's already shrugging off to reveal a clean pressed button-down. Not exactly farm-friendly attire. "No, I'll be alright by myself."

"I could go change really quickly," he offers in a suspicious rush.

You search his expression then, and underneath the joy of being back, there's...something. You squint, unable to make it out. Sure, he must've missed you, but this feels like it runs deeper than that. When you give him a nod, he hurries towards the house, your dog chasing and barking at his heels. True to his word, he's back in minutes.

The chickens are much more cooperative now, and you roll your eyes at how they parade around your husband. They even hop around the coop, showing him where they've hidden their eggs from your intrusive searching.

"Thank you, dearies," he says to the hens. You swear they swoon.

"A real heart breaker," you deadpan. "Have you told them you're married?"

He chuckles, taking your hand as you move into the barns next door. While you lay out new hay on the feeding bench, he unhooks the stools and milk pails and sets them on either side of the door. It's hard to believe that just a few months ago he barely knew how to approach your animals, let alone help you with the chores.

He whistles lowly, and the first cow trudges to his station, ready to be milked. You get settled at your own station. One of the newer goats skids to the front of the line, eager to be let outside. It's not quiet in the barn—it never is, not with twelve grown animals waiting for their turn—but when you call Elliott's name, he looks at you. His ponytail needs to be retied.

"So why'd you come home early?" The young adult goats don't have much milk, just enough for a small container. You pat its hind leg, and it runs into the crisp autumn air with an excited bleat.

"I missed the atmosphere of our farm. The fresh air of the valley is good for my creative soul, unlike the bustle of Zuzu City."

You only raise your eyebrows, and he sighs from your all-knowing gaze.

"You read me a little too well, my love."

"I sure hope so, after all this time together. Did something happen at the office?"

Since the release of his last collection of short stories, he's been invited to the city more often for author-related events. This latest stint, running a series of writing workshops in partnership with Zuzu University and the local community, was organized by his agent in hopes of bigger opportunities. Maybe even a guest lecturer contract, they've said on more than one occasion, though Elliott refuses to be apart from you for too long.

Elliott gives another sigh. "Something like that. I just...it was admittedly negligence on my part. I was in the middle of writing you another letter when someone required my presence down the hall. I thought that it'd be a quick matter, so I didn't clear my desk. But apparently one of the secretaries came looking for me while I was out."

"Did they read...?" You wrinkle your nose, knowing how private Elliott is about his unpolished work. He's even more private about what he writes for your eyes only. "I'm sure they were embarrassed."

"That's what bothers me the most! She had the audacity to bring it up in front of everyone when we had a meeting, even quoted a few lines—"

The cow groans as he moves particularly rough. He gives it an apologetic scratch under the chin.

"So for the past two days, everyone has been trying to talk me into releasing a collection of love poems, which I would have no issues with if it didn't stem from such a personal...I mean, the poems were addressed to my muse, and when I explained that it was you, they said that was even better. Something about how the romance will really sell." He frowns. "I like being able to support myself—contribute to our funds, you know—with my writing, but it's not...a commodity. I'm allowed to make art for the sake of making art."

His forehead is furrowed, and you would reach out to ease the frustration if your hands weren't busy.

"What's your plan now?"

He scoffs. "There's no plan regarding that. I completely refuse. It's quite insulting, in fact, the idea that I'd put my love on display for a paycheck."

It's relieving, you have to admit. Even after getting a taste of success, your husband remains the same person you said your vows to. The same romantic who holds you in such high esteem. There's so many emotions—namely affection—swirling in your chest, but you're not the writer so all you manage is a simple Okay.

"Okay," you say again for good measure, but he must understand you because his expression smooths. "So what do you want for lunch?"

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Here’s a crossover fic idea, Pokémon reader gets sent to stardew valley by Arceus for some strange reason, causing them to take a job as a farmer with their Pokémon. However, the reader has to hide their Pokémon from the townsfolk since they don’t know how they would react to their pocket monsters. Though eventually certain townsfolk (the male bachelors and Krobus to be exact) will eventually learn the truth depending on how close they are to the reader. The reader’s Pokemon team consists of Herdier, Gogoat, Mudsdale, Vespiquen, Blaziken and Oinkolonge (the female form).

"Does thou understand thy task?"

"I-I still don't know why I'm even doing this. What's my purpose in coming here? Pokémon don't even exist-"

"Once more I shall reiterate: Achieve Perfection, and come to the Summit. You will find me waiting."

"I..don't know what "perfection" even is! Why did you send me to this place?! Why did you choose-"

The sound of a rooster's loud caw made your eyes snap open, realizing that you were having yet another bizarre dream.

You sighed, waking up and rubbing your eyes, before checking the time.

6:00 AM.

"Oh well..time to make breakfast and get to work." You muttered to yourself, stretching out your limbs before getting out of bed and starting the day.

No time to muddle over your dream.

But you knew for certain that your encounter with the mythical Arceus--the God of all Pokémon itself--was no dream the first time around, as it decided to send you to this strange new land..

A land called Stardew Valley.

You didn't think there was any special reason it chose you. You've just finished schooling in Paldea and had plans to travel the world with your Pokémon. Although apparently god itself decided to fling you into an entirely different world..not one where Ultra Beasts nor Giratina existed.

But rather a world where you quickly realized Pokémon didn't even exist.

It was just you and your team: Herdier, Gogoat, Mudsdale, Vespiquen, Oinkolonge, and Blazkien--your start who's been by your side since your Pokémon journey began back in Hoenn.

You were thankful Arceus sent them along with you, or else you probably would've lost your mind at this point..

The moment you were dropped down into a dilapidated farmland, you quickly realized that you had to make a new home for yourself here...and as you've gotten acquainted with the locals in the nearby town, you also learned how to make some good profits.

Farming wasn't something you expected to do in your journey, but what other option did you have?

Besides, your team adjusted rather well to the roles you've assigned them: such as Oinkolonge sniffing out truffles, Vespiquen and Gogoat ensuring your crops were growing well, Herdier digging up bones and artifacts for you to sell, donate, or gift, Mudsdale helping you get around town on horseback, and Blaziken aiding you with the physical labor and being your bodyguard in the mines.

When you've heard rumors of monsters dwelling there, you assumed Pokémon and became eager to catch some....only to discover that they weren't even Pokémon at all--but rather hostile creatures that had no types or weaknesses you could exploit.

Your Pokedex and pokeballs were basically null and void.

So again, you had to adapt. This time you needed to sharpen up your combat skills, even though Blaziken was able to take them down pretty easily without you ever lifting your sword.

That was one problem taken care of.

The other...involved the villagers who don't know what a "poke-man" is, the majority thinking you were insane for going to the mines. You've become close friends with a lot of the guys over the past year or so, and while they've seen you, Mudsdale, and Herdier together, you never told them you were a Pokémon trainer.

For all they knew, you were just someone from Zuzu City who owned a "unique" dog and horse. They didn't know you came from a world entirely different from theirs.

They were wary of anything new--including yourself--and were especially terrified of the monsters, hearing nothing but rumors and horrible things happening to people in the mines.

What would they think if they discovered you owned "monsters" of your own who had special powers? You had no idea if they'd be scared of you..and everything you've done to build up friendships with them would come crashing down.

But a few hours later, while you and your companions were preoccupied with their outdoor tasks, you failed to notice one of the guys was approaching the farmland.

And you had little time to react to their presence before they spotted one of your Pokémon...

.......

Alex

He just wanted to see if you're up for playing gridball, and instead stumbles upon your Blaziken breaking apart a large stone with their kicks.

It was the most efficient way you could help them train, while at the same time gathering resources to store for later.

"Woah..what the heck are you?!"

Alex's shout scares you, and you throw down your watering can in a panic, running over to explain-

"Hey, hey..no need to freak out." He laughs. "Is this one of those "Pokémon" you were talking about? Why does it look like an oversized chicken?"

"Ziken?"

His face pales. "Did...it just talk to me??"

Seeing no other way to hide this, you eventually tell him more about Pokémon, trying your best to explain the concept of evolution to the jock.

At first it just...flies over his head, but once you draw it out for him, he gets the gist of it.

"So you're saying that..Blaziken started out as this weak and small Torchic, but got stronger through rigorous training?"

"Yep, pretty much."

"Hey, that sounds like me! I used to be a scrawny little kid, too, but look at me now! On the road to going pro!" Alex smiles at your starter. "Looks like you already achieved that yourself. Awesome job." He gives them a fist-bump, and is thrilled when they understand the gesture.

Learning how strong their kicks are inspires him to work on his own leg routine (which he admits to neglecting).

He absolutely wants to invite Blaziken to play gridball with him....as long as they don't get too excited and accidentally scorch the ball with their flames.

If you ever bring Herdier over to his grandparents', them and Dusty will become best buds real fast.

Sam

He randomly decided to stop by your farm to give you a gift--as a way of thanking you for helping him write a new song.

But at first, he doesn't notice anything wrong with your Oinkolonge playing with a truffle crab she dug up.

Until he sees you, pauses, looks back at her, and says "wait do pigs normally look like that?"

Shit.

You thought he wouldn't notice since his head was in the clouds 99% of the time.....but right now it wasn't.

And ofc she's kinda tired to hiding all the time and walks right up to him.

Sam isn't sure where that floral scent came from, although after it began making him sneeze, you had to politely recall Oinkolonge and apologize.

He just looks so bewildered, and stares at your other Pokemon...yet he didn't freak out like you expected.

Maybe Oinkolonge's ability still made him calm, so you took this moment to explain your team to him, reassuring him they're harmless.

"What? Scared? Nah, I was just...they remind me of this one game Vincent started playing."

"Oh? And what's that?"

"Junimon. You basically collect these Junimos with different powers and fight other monsters, with some attacks being more effective than others! It's pretty rad."

"....that's literally how it is where I come from. But it's no video game. We coexist with them."

Sam's mind=blown.

He wants to tell Sebastian and Abigail about your Pokémon so SO badly...but your Vespiquen physically blocks him from running/skating away from your farm until he promises you he won't say a word.

He made sure to write it down, of course.

It's something he 100% doesn't wanna forget.

Shane

He overheard that Marnie recently sold you a blue baby chicken, and he wanted to come over and see how the little guy was doing in your coop.

However, upon arrival he stumbles across your chickens being surrounded by Blaziken, the blue one standing on their shoulder.

"Farmer where the fuck did you get a chicken like that?"

"Holy SHIT Shane I didn't know you were there!" You sprint over, seeing the wide-eyed look on his face.

"Please tell me I'm not hallucinating. I haven't even had a drink yet but-"

Before he could start going on a rant and/or leave, you encourage him to stay so you can explain everything about Blaziken and your Pokémon team.

Like Alex, he's not gonna understand a whole lot about it, but he gets the gist of it.

You debate on telling him that Pokémon eggs just "spawn" and walking is the only way to hatch them. No incubators needed.

He has some questions, obviously, but not the ones you expected.

"So Blaziken..just combines "blaze" and "chicken" together?"

"Uh yep. Pretty much."

"....are there other chicken-based Pokémon where you come from?"

Whenever he visits the farm thereon, he'd always check up on Blaziken and the chickens, impressed at how many they were able to raise.

During the winter, they're a personal heater for the babies--although sometimes Shane worries about them accidentally burning the barns/coops down.

He also might forget that your starter isn't 100% chicken, and the one time he tried feeding them hay instead of berries....they weren't impressed.

Your secret stays safe with him, even when he goes to drink.

Elliot

He's definitely written some short stories and poems about the monsters in the mines/skull caverns you talked about, even creating new characters inspired by them!

Oftentimes he silently envies the thrilling adventures you've had and wonders if his life will ever become that exciting (without all the danger and peril of mining, ofc)

While hanging at the saloon, you maaaaaay have let it slip that you owned Pokémon, but you don't remember how much you shared.

Fortunately, it didn't negatively affect your friendship with Elliot, as he comes to your farm to see these creatures for himself.

"Oh my...!"

The first one he meets is Vespiquen, and you SPRINT over to him in a panic, clothes dirty and your face sweaty.

"Elliot! Don't scream! She's just a..uh...ah....a-a really big bee-!"

"Farmer, why would I ever scream in the presence of royalty?"

"..huh...?"

You stand there, utterly dumbfounded as the writer greets your fearsome bug type, treating her like a princess and admiring her growing collecting of honey and flower garden.

Vespiquen, being the haughty and prideful lass she is, eats up his praise...and continues to every time he's visited your farm since.

Okay, so you might've told him too much about your Pokémon team, but you're grateful he didn't get too scared.

Or think you were crazy.

But it's gonna be a bit of a problem when you need Vespiquen to focus on her tasks.

Even if you're visiting his beach house or hanging out in the library together, you could feel her pokeball shaking within your bag, eager to be let out.

Elliot joked that she was simply "buzzing" with excitement, and you just groaned.

Krobus

The shadow monster always dreamed of the day humans and monsters could live in harmony, but fears that it'll only stay that way: as a mere dream.

Well...one winter night that changes when he visits your farm under the cover of darkness, and Blaziken instinctively comes out to protect your land.

The familiar screech of a Shadow Brute has you rushing out the door, sword drawn, only to instantly recognize Krobus--who was about to get Fire Punched into oblivion.

"Blaziken, stop! That's my friend!"

"...blaze?" They stare at you, still holding the poor little monster in their grasp.

"Please, trust me. Don't hurt him."

Krobus is bewildered and scared..yet amazed at the same time.

This human has tamed a monster and can speak to it??? Not to mention you have several of them once he visits your coop and barn.

After you've explained the concept of Pokémon, he grows to understand them better, and forgives Blaziken for attacking him.

Obviously you didn't wanna tell him you used them to fight his "friends" down in the mines.

Initially, he was horrified by the idea of pokeballs being used to "imprison" them, despite you reassuring him that they roam freely almost 24/7.

Although when you're down in the sewers one day, he proposes a rather humorous question.

"Is the inside of a pokeball comfortable for them?"

"It is. It's well-insulated but..wait, don't tell me..." You see the look on his face, the way his eyes went to the pokeballs on your belt. "Did you wanna try going inside one? Thought you despised the idea."

"I did, but..if they help your monsters get around town discreetly, maybe..they could help me. The crocus are blooming nicely this winter, and I've been wanting to pick them myself."

"Sorry Krobus, but they don't work."

"Why not?"

"...because you're not a Pokémon. It'll just bounce right off of you."

"But I am a monster, though???"

"That's...not really how it works-"

"Didn't you say they were discovering new ones all the time in your world?"

Eventually, you entertain the idea of catching Krobus--and he's disappointed when you're correct, as the pokeball bounces off his antenna and almost rolls into the sewer waters.

You get a good laugh out of it, and as embarrassed as he is..it was worth a try.

Sebastian

Another day, another argument with his family...another reason to get out of that house and be as far away from the mountains as possible.

There's no better place for Sebastian to retreat to than your farm.

You two have become close friends at this point, even though you have yet to actually tell him about your Pokémon.

While playing Solarian Chronicles with him, Sam, and Abigail, you'd play the role of a summoner (which was the closest thing to "trainer"), with some of your creatures being inspired by your main team.

Ngl Seb was impressed by your character sheet.

When he decides to come over one random day after that fight in his house, Gogoat is tilling the soil with their hooves--and you're too occupied planting seeds until he says something.

"Woah..I've never seen that kind of goat before."

You jump, rushing over to explain everything....only to see that he doesn't look freaked out by any means. Nor did he seem upset that you kept this a secret.

Then again, he regularly visited the mines and thinks the Skeletons are badass, so you weren't sure why you were freaking out.

In the end, he just has genuine questions about your Pokémon, and you answer them honestly.

In your pokedex, you show him some of the frog-based ones. And he immediately likes Politoed.

You introduce him to Blaziken, who tries gifting him a frozen tear you had stored in a chest, only to pout as it melts and evaporates instantly.

It makes Sebastian laugh a little--and you did a double take bc you've never heard this man laugh before in your life (and you don't deny that it made your heart skip a beat).

"I appreciate the gesture, Blaziken..thanks." He smiles, already feeling better.

As an apology, your starter lights his cigarette with a small flame, and he's stunned.

"Wow..what can't you do?"

Harvey

Like any good town doctor, he just wanted to visit your farm to give you a checkup, knowing how hard you must work to keep things running smoothly.

At your last appointment, you mentioned having "helpers", and he was certain that meant the animals you purchased from Marnie's ranch...

Not "animals" that don't look anything like animals he's seen in the valley or in Zuzu City.

He almost screams at the sight of Vespiquen staring menacingly at him while she's guarding the beehouses, and you rush out of your house before the poor bachelor faints.

"Calm down, Harvey! She's..uh..t-totally harmless!"

"..hh..harmless..? She--it...wh-what exactly is she, [y/n]? What am I looking at right now???" He looks to you with the widest and most terrified eyes, begging for an explanation. "Is she some monster from the mines??"

Try as you might to explain your Pokémon to him (even as you calmly introduce him to the rest of your team), that first impression left his nerves shot for the longest time.

No matter where he goes, Harvey couldn't stop wondering why you owned such bizarre creatures--and even at work, Maru begins to see that he seems extra nervous when around you.

But she assumes he has a crush on you, which is partially true.

As time goes on, though, he starts to understand your team better and acknowledges that despite their looks, they are kind, reliable, and protective partners.

He won't reveal your secret unless you're ready to. But he's impressed you've managed to keep them underwraps for so long.

When he learns Vespiquen's Heal Order is the reason you return from the mines/skull caverns with nary a scratch, he apologizes to her personally for screaming.

As long as you don't tell him you were sent to this world by the Pokémon equivalent of Yoba, you're golden.

[demigoddessqueens]

So many of the BG3 players I know go around collecting every animal they can manage (especially me I’ve named the baby owl bear truffles and would die for him) could you write the party reacting to a tav who acts like that

Aww!! A whole menagerie for Tav 😄 truffles 😭🥰

Halsin

He just lauds all the praise to you, admiring how nature and all her living creatures follow you

Gale

Gods darn it you’re adorable! Extra bonus points if they get along super well with Tara and she cozies up to you too

Wyll

Noble as he is, it’s always a good time to indulge in some fun and he would have it no other way than with you and all the new pets

Shadowheart

She already has a fondness for the owl bear but eventually comes around to the other critters that have joined your troop over the days

Lae’zel

It takes some getting used to your “army” of fluffy and cuddly critters, but they make you smile so there’s always the exception for you

Karlach

Your best buddy and partner in crime in loving them all and cuddling them too!!

Astarion

He’s just started growing fond of Scratch and the Owlbear cub, so the menagerie you’ve gathered is really testing him in that he has to compete now for your affections

bonus (because he’s my new fave)

Rolan

He’s so over the train of animals that follow you in and out of the Tower. Yes you’re so gentle with them, and Cal and Lia adore the animals, but do they have eat and tear his tomes??

[copperbadge]

So, you guys know Merlin Sheldrake, who went viral for publishing his massive book about mushrooms, using a copy to grow mushrooms, and then eating the mushrooms? Well, I got a copy of his book, Entangled Life, on one of my library apps recently. I figured it might help with the novel about Davzda and the hallucinogenic mushrooms that are used in making it.

It's engaging, but it's also very dense and meandered a bit, so I didn't end up finishing it. It's a bit like being trapped in a room with the most charismatic person ever to have a deeply neurodiverse hyperfixation on fungi. But also it contains random gems such as:

[ID: Text reading "A friend of mine, the philosopher and magician David Abram, used to be the house magician at Alice's Restaurant in Massacusetts (made famous by the Arlo Guthrie song)."]

That's so much to put into one sentence, Mr. Sheldrake.

And he drops a bunch of new genders (perhaps new sexualities?) so you all have fun:

[ID: Text reading "Some fungi have tens of thousands of mating types, approximately equivalent to our sexes (the record holder is the split gill fungus, Schizophyllum commune, which has more than 23,000 mating types, each of which is sexually compatible with nearly every one of the others.)"]

Amusingly for me mainly because of the Shivadhverse, he also manages to namedrop both a Theophile

and a LeFevre (Simon the chef's last name)

in the first hundred pages.

Anyway, fun book to drop into and out of, especially as an ebook; it feels like it might be a bit much to handle in person unless you are a fellow passionate mycologist.

[ID: Last two images feature quotes by the eighteenth century French physician Theophile de Bordeu, speaking on the scent of living organisms, and a truffle scientist and cultivator in Oregon named Charles Lefevre, who works with Perigord black truffles.]

[s0urdoughs]

Could we get a story with some seam ripping? I always love to see it with Matty <3

Here’s a little bit of rapid wg involving outgrowing clothes and some seam ripping :] Enjoy!

———————————————

Matty pauses mid-step to stare at the colorful box on the counter. The top had been removed to reveal several small, neatly-decorated chocolates inside. Next to the chocolates was a handwritten note that simply said: “All for you” with a heart drawn next to it.

Matty peers over the sweets, but pauses mid-selection. He wasn’t forgetting an important date, was he? Nah, Graeme must have found some discounted chocolate and wanted to share…or something. Oh, well. He shrugs, popping a chocolate into his mouth.

Dark chocolate raspberry cream. Nice. One of his favorites. He chews slowly, trying to savor the flavor combination of the small truffle. His fingers hover over the chocolates again, trying to find one of similar appearance, but has no luck and picks another at random.

Sharp teeth sink into milk chocolate while a sweet, buttery caramel fills his mouth. “Mmm—Hm?” Matty feels a pinch at his waist. He stops midchew and looks down. His eyes widened, shocked to see the fabric of his sweater being pulled taut by his now, very incredibly, swollen belly. He swallows and swears he sees the lump of his stomach wobble slightly, swelling bigger before—

BWOMP

A chubby flab of bare skin bounces into view, revealing the entire lower half of Matty’s tummy. His face heats up, watching the rim of his sweater rise higher and higher. He stands frozen in place, watching the doughy weight of his stomach double in size before his very eyes. The newly added layer of fat jiggles as it continues to grow, sending ripples up his belly and down his thickening legs. His once loose sweatpants now tightly hug his engorged behind, the fabric creaking in protest as more fat balloons into place.

RIIIIIIIIIIPPP

The seams along his inner thighs burst open, sending chubby flesh bulging out over the frayed threads. It’s not long before the stitching around his waistband gives out, framing his love handles with tattered shreds. Matty looks down to view the damage, but struggles to see past his belly. A deep flush warms his entire face.

“Holy shit.”

He uses a whole hand to grab at the flab that now was his gut and gasps. He was huge. His sharp fingers squeeze at his plush lower belly and he whines, shaking the pudge in his palm. The small movement jostles the entirety of his swollen figure.

Matty’s eyes snap back to the remaining chocolates and he smirks.

“All for me, huh?”