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sanarkeo · 7 days

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don't stop, play your video game

mina finds it hard to focus when she’s getting eaten out.

alternatively: spying on your gf gives you some really great ideas! gamer!mina x f!reader smut - kinda fluffy kinda vanilla - established wholesome relationship - idk if it counts as voyeurism...

having a girlfriend who’s never had to want for anything, who’s always been more of a giver than a taker, has made special occasions slightly difficult. your anniversary’s coming around again and you’re stuck on what gift you can get her next. another lego set you both can spend a night putting together? artisan yarn to add to her growing knitting pile?

you know that whatever you do give her, she’d love it regardless. last year’s was a home cooked meal with her favorite dishes followed by a movie marathon on that new monitor you got her (and of course she insisted on stepping in and helping you with the chopping, and was the one who did all the tech set up). you still remember how content she looked, her head resting on your shoulder as you snuggled under the blankets. this year though, you want to get her something extra special, and you’re willing to use any means necessary to find out what exactly it is that myoui mina wants.

standing outside the door to her study, you feel the lightest pang of guilt hit your stomach for observing her like this. mina’s always treasured her alone time and you surmise she’s probably just playing that one video game she, chaeyoung and tzuyu have been hooked on recently. you press your ear to the wooden door and hear a muffled buzzing noise. it’s oddly familiar.

curiosity got the better of you and so you turn the handle and open the door ever so slightly, as quietly as possible. peering in, you see mina slumped in her chair in nothing but her baby blue tie-dye hoodie pressing a vibrator to her pussy. you’re honestly glad she has those noise canceling headphones on because she’s making the softest, sweetest grunts and hums as she massages it onto her clit. it’s taking everything in you to not rush in and please her.

when you tear your gaze away from her trembling form and take a look at her monitor, it takes a while to register what’s on her screen, but your jaw drops. mina’s watching porn. of someone getting sucked off while they’re playing zelda on the switch. it makes you giggle a little - obviously, the nerdiest girl you’ve ever known would get off to something like this.

looking back at mina, you can tell she’s getting close by how tightly she’s screwing her eyes shut. yet, with one quivering hand keeping the vibrator steady, she reaches out and clicks on another video (this time with someone getting fucked with a controller in hand). as distracting as it is hearing the monotonous drone replaced by wet squelches when she abandons the vibrator and starts rubbing her clit, you think you might know what could be a good little surprise.

“a-ah- fuck…y/n...”

you twiddle your toes on the lacquered hardwood and scrunch the hem of the hoodie you borrowed off of your girlfriend. the scent of her’s fading away, but still present on the plush cotton. you’ve seen mina naked a hundred times before (and you can’t help but stop and stare every single time). and yet, the image of her nipples, erect and rubbing against the inside of this same hoodie, of her touching herself, the cuffs of the sleeves gliding over smooth thighs - it makes you giddy.

“you can come in!” you hear her call out.

there’s this inexplicable psychic ability mina possesses that you haven’t yet gotten used to. but, the shock soothes the rising tension in your shoulders and you quickly let yourself in. it’s a quick clearing of your throat and a rubbing of your flushed cheeks before you allow yourself to meet your girlfriend’s gaze. she always regards you with a tender, sincere hue to her eyes, and it’s no different right now. she looks like she would give you the world, and in a way she has.

“i’m sorry angel, i’m in the middle of a game,” she apologizes with a pout, pulling a stool out from under her desk and patting the seat lightly. “but you can come and watch ‘til i’m done?”

if she hadn’t sneaked a look over to her screen and double clicked on something, you might’ve felt a tad bit sorry for what you’re going to do to her. you know mina as the kind of girlfriend who’s attentive to a fault; normally she’ll abandon everything to see that you’re well cared for. so it humbles and amuses you to watch her balance her attention between gawking at you and focusing on that convoluted game. tiptoeing her way, you quirk an eyebrow up as she examines what you’re wearing with darting eyes.

you throw out a rhetorical question: “playing league again?”

she’s played league everyday for over a week.

she sends you a nod and her signature gummy smile, then immediately snaps her head back to the monitor, her fingers fluttering over her keyboard as vivid circles form on the screen with a flurry of clicks. the sunshine rushes through her window to illuminate her silhouette. those bulky headphones look silly framed against her delicate features, but the way she clenches her jaw, the slope of it shifting up, makes you feel some type of way.

when her sight lands on you again, her mouth is set somewhat agape and she’s leering at your legs. “are you not cold, love?” after a couple more clacks of the keys, mina reaches out and strokes your bare skin with her knuckles. “you’re not wearing an awful lot,” she probes, and squeezes your thighs. she’s taking her time to skim the back of her hand over your knee, then to just under your hip. you shudder and the wool of her sweatshirt tickles you. you wonder for a second if she’s already clued into what you’re up to, or if maybe just this is enough to make her want to pin you down.

“you can warm me up then?”

she presses her tongue against her teeth while you pull her chair back. and for once, as you swing your leg to the other side and climb up on her lap, she looks at you for longer than a few beats. you slide your hands under her sweatshirt and wrap your arms around her waist, gripping onto the small of her back. at the expense of blocking her view for the slightest bit, you give her the lightest kiss on the lips, then sneak another on her nose, near her mole.

“love, it’s ranked…” she trails off, drawing a staggered breath. mina’s trying to ignore the heat that’s emanating from between your upper thighs, the wetness that spread since she layed her palm on you. she’s trying to pretend she doesn’t want to take your lip between her teeth and suck ‘til it swells, but she’s bad at acting and you love how visible restraint shows on her face.

“luckily, i don’t know what that means,” you joke and draw heart shapes into her skin like some lovesick fool. her eyes fall to somewhere between your thighs and her lap and the tip of her tongue peeks out of her mouth. your hearts become spirals thinking about how it’d feel on your heat. you clear your throat.

“focus on your game baby. don’t want you to lose, do i?”

you push her chin away and pause until you’re sure she’s got some of her attention back on her match. when you hear the clicking of her mouse and the striking of keys, you decide it’s a worthy distraction to begin bunching up the fabric of the hoodie and adjust yourself on her lap. mina stops muttering about minions in the game (when did she start, again?) as soon as she feels the warm, damp lace of your underwear pressed onto her thigh. you love how the curve of it arches perfectly to kiss your covered clit.

your girlfriend tries to gulp down her arousal: “honey…”

“yes?”

“i can’t… i can’t focus when you’re like this.”

mina has such telltale signs for when she’s turned on and you’ve memorized every single one of them. the way she starts breathing so hard with the erratic rising and falling of her chest, it nearly looks like she’s panting. the way she purses her lips, forming a little line. the way you can feel her contain and control her lust for you with how she doesn’t know what to do with her hands.

they’re trembling in mid-air.

you can feel the thumping of her heartbeat on your chest when you give her cheek a peck. “yes you can, baby. concentrate on it,” you’re trying to be encouraging, yet you grind down onto her thigh, feeling the muscles in her leg tense up.

“do it for me, babe?”

she gulps, feeling you stain her sweatpants. mina peers over your shoulder to wince at how badly she’s doing. she gives it another try, clicking and launching an attack furiously but is washed by defeat when she sees you strip the hoodie off, revealing a set of matching lilac lingerie.

“my mina’s said she’s been liking this color a lot lately, right?”

“princess, please…” with closed eyes, mina lifts her head, withdrawing her hands and gingerly placing them on your hips. her palms feel slightly cold, but it just sends jolts up your ribs. “i can’t- i really, i don’t know.”

abruptly, you get off mina’s lap, and her eyes pop open in surprise. “i think you know, you know what i wanna do.” you crawl on all fours to get under her desk, and situate yourself on your knees, right in front of her. you have the perfect view of her thighs, now squeezed closed. your eyes trail the veins along her arms till they stop at the smallest hint of her tummy peeking through.

“didn’t you hear me?”

she cocks her head.

“d’you rather me do this while you’re playing zelda?”

she blinks slowly then looks down but away from you. a hand moves up to cover her mouth.

“how many times have you seen me?” she asks, and her words are muffled.

“what? you’ve watched that kinda porn more th-”

mina whimpers and her fingers slide down her chin, and she strokes at her neck. you wet your lips as you notice her fingertips trembling, hovering over her throat.

“don’t, please,” she mutters.

you push up her sweatshirt and take in the glossy sheen of sweat over her abs, rising and falling, tensing up every time the pads of your fingers graze over her skin. you spread your hand over her abdomen, toned and smooth, and glide it up her sternum to prod at her bare tits. her breath hitches when you cup her breast with the palm of your hand and brush your thumb over her hard nipple.

"my prettiest baby."

you spare the torture and hook your fingers into the band of her sweatpants and tug. she arches her back, allowing you to tear her sweats and underwear down to her ankles. she’s looking down so intently at you, her knitted brows shading a firey gaze, eyelids fluttering. the sight of her, so very eager for you to be buried in her pussy, choked whimpers amid the slight soundscape of the game coming through her headphones - it makes your mouth water. you lean closer to her and give her a smirk.

her scent is unmistakable and intoxicating. it strains at your chest. her legs are milky but defined, and you slide your impatient hands between them to push them apart. mina’s inner thighs glisten with her arousal, and dew pools at her entrance, needy, ready. you wonder if making love with mina will always make you feel like this - like you’d do absolutely anything to hear her make those little sounds of satisfaction. and you look up at her again as if you’d even need her assurance to go on.

mina looks like she’s writhing in pain.

“love…”

she reaches a hand down to stroke your cheek. it’s gentle and saccharine and her gaze is burning you with want. the idea of the game dissipates somewhere in the middle when you stick your tongue out and sink its breadth onto her aching, soaking pussy. the taste of it is sharp and it’s sickly sweet as your mouth is swathed by her delicate folds. you try to keep eye contact but she screws her eyes shut as soon as your tongue reaches her clit.

“hnn- ah… ah-fuck!” she cheeps.

when your tongue dips into her hole, you feel the pressure of her thighs dig into your temples. you lap up her warmth, tease at her sensitive bud with the faintest licks, and ghost your lips over hers. her moans are music but frustratingly subdued, and you swallow her juices. nails scrape against your scalp and you feel your girlfriend’s fingers catch locks of your hair. mina twitches, drops her hips and tugs your head up slightly, shoving your mouth against her clit.

“please, honey-” mina throws her head back. “please.”

you leave kisses on her thighs to test her a little, but give into the force of her grip that makes your core throb with eagerness.

“only because you asked nicely.”

you suck her nub into your mouth and flick at it, the edge of your bottom lip beginning to feel her hole clench around nothing. her moans settle into whines, each one growing longer, higher in pitch with every stroke of your tongue coming quicker than the one before. your chin is coated in her wetness and your fingers are itching to slip into her. mina near crushes you between her thighs now, your mouth so unbearably hot and good on her cunt, she can barely think.

“i’m so close- so close, ah!-”

her hand in your hair moves to join the other with urgency to paw and claw into the armrests. you paint spirals over her clit, and the anticipation flowers in you when her whines turn to desperate groans. mina sees white first before the mounting pleasure bursts into ecstasy. when she cums, she grabs your head again and suffocates you in her pussy.

“oh my god… oh my f-”

without letting another word slip past her lips, you stand up and yank the collar of her sweatshirt up to tug it off her. then, kneeling once more, your hands find her lower back again, and you pull her chest closer to roll her nipples between your teeth, to give them as much attention as you did her clit for at least one moment. mina stares at you, bewildered, drool beading at the tip of her tongue. pulling away from her breasts, you crawl to your right and swivel the chair to have her face you again.

“you lost, didn’t you?”

immediately, mina whips her head to examine the text on the screen and her lips form into a pout. “and i got reported,” she mewls with a sluggish nod.

“and you got reported,” you repeat at her and she huffs at you. patting the floor beside you, you tell her: “come down here, babe.”

“why?”

“c’mon, minari,” you coo, and the corners of your mouth droop down as you furrow your eyebrows to get her to fold.

and mina crumples, her gaze softening while she slides down her chair to move to the ground. she doesn’t expect it when the caress of your hand massaging her shoulder changes to a grip, and she’s shoved down with a yelp, back to the rug. she blinks in disbelief. but your girlfriend, attentive and hungry for you, soon devours your lips, chest, waist, hips with her eyes. you straddle her. you trace her clenched jaw, the sweep of her collarbone, the wave of her overworked ribs, the slope of her abs.

you wonder if fucking mina will ever stop being this fun.

“what else do you imagine when you’re watching that kinda stuff?”

it's finally up, no edits no proofreading just prayers!! 1000% done w this but mina today was sooooo 🤕 i just needed to do something about it. i think it says a lot about me that i take way longer to write about cute sweet loving than my usual pervy shit. had to cut it shorter than i wanted. well!!!

#wlw #sapphic #lesbian #twice smut #mina smut #myoui mina smut #mina x reader #mina x reader smut #twice x reader smut #twice imagines #mina imagines #myoui mina imagines #twice mina imagines #mina #myoui mina #twice mina

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illyrian-dreamer · 1 month

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And Then There Were None – Part 2

Azriel/fem!reader

Synopsis: In the lead up to the war, Hybern releases a catastrophic spell that wipes out all humans, sparing just one.

Abandoned in the desolate human lands, you scavenge to survive long enough to find your family.

Reluctantly, you are found by the Shadowsinger as fate intervenes to guide you under his watchful eye.

<<<Part 1

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings: Death, blood, suggestions of miscarriage, suicidal themes

You woke in a bed as soft as the clouds, the covers silken with feathery pillows piled beneath your neck so plush your hardly felt them.

A level of luxury you had never known could exist – and that’s how you knew you weren't home.

Vision a blur, the room you woke to was dim, safe from the fire that crackled at the opposite end. Your vision reeled as it took in the space around you - an obnoxiously large bedroom.

The haze lingered as you raised your hand in front of your face - a quick way to decide between reality or dream. If this were real, someone had done an awfully good job at scrubbing the dirt from your fingernails.

But then a familiar ache throbbed as you bought your other hand from under the covers, and a stark white bandaged wrapped tightly at your wrist. Real then, and that fae male had indeed broken your wrist. The scars from your journey were faint now, but still there too.

You felt for your stomach under the covers then, for any signs of your lingering ailment. They had changed you - thick cotton like padding within the fresh undergarment and the softest gown you had ever felt between your fingers.

You pushed the thought of who might have changed you from your mind. Healers - you hoped.

Your skin beneath the gown was soft and oily, and smelt of salve. The healers had done well to heal you. Good, this was good. It meant you had a chance to return home, continue your search.

Gods – the search, your family. You had to continue.

You were alone in this room, and it was night - all good signs. Perhaps with enough strength, you might slip be able to escape unnoticed…

With a slight dizziness, you swung your legs from the bed, toes pressing to the warm, rich wood - as if they floor was warmed from within.

You wouldn’t dare to poke your head out the door - not in a house of creatures with heightened senses.

The windows - that was your only option to remain unseen.

Whether it was the delirium of the events days prior or the haze of exhaustion you were yet to shake, you didn't consider escaping into an unknown lands in nothing more than a nightgown was a fools choice, mortifying at the least. But survival called, your family called.

Padding around the postered bed, you scanned quickly for your belongings . Clothes, waist belt, knives were no where to be found.

The cupboard was empty, safe from a long black coat made from the softest velvet your had ever felt. Tying the fabric firm at your waist, you didn’t take the time to roll the sleeves that drooped well past your fingertips - clearly made for a much taller, larger form than your own. Black was good, especially at night, helping conceal the silky cream night robe that seemed to scream find me.

If you had the time, you would have marvelled at the wall of windows - in shapes and sizes you didn't know a glass welder could blow. Arched in a row of three, each of them had smaller panes within - still large enough to fit through, and with latches.

Perfect.

You fiddled with the latch, the world outside dark and unmoving with no sign of light until you cast your eyes upwards. Fingers halting on the latch, your breath knocked from you chest as you observed the most brilliant array of stars you had ever seen.

Were these the same stars as the human lands? How was it that such magnificent beauty was concealed from your own part of the world?

Another stab of loathing for fae found you then – it seemed even the Mother was versed in reserving luxuries only for them.

The latch clicked open, and you pushed gently against the pane, the window unmoving. Frowning, you pushed again, before trying to pull it inside instead. The glass moved on smooth, oiled hinges - and that’s when the howling began.

As loud as a pack of wolves, yet that insistent noise was instead from wind.

Fretting at the noise, you glanced behind you in urgency. Any second now they would come, the wind as good as any alarm. So with a strong grip on the window ledge, you pushed your head through, eyes squinting through the unforgiving gales.

The wind almost knocked you, hair immediately whipping this was and that, eyes stinging with tears as you failed to see clearly.

Scanning as best you could, you saw no stairs of landings to climb to, no balcony from which you could hope to escape.

And then you looked down.

It was instinct to back away, so fast that the back of your head knocked against the pane, and a quick profanity escaping your lips.

You had never been so high up before. Never knew anything could be built so tall.

With a roll of your stomach, you forced your head back out, avoiding looking anywhere below the horizon.

On the far left, hidden mostly by brick, was a distant glow of a city, the lights warm and flickering with glorious life. And between you and it - a river, it’s water the blackest of blacks in the night, besides from the reflection of the city that budded it’s banks.

To your right - dark, intimidating forms of mountains and peaks. And with a quick flash below, far, far below, there was only night.

Your gut lurched both from the height and realisation - it was suicide to try and escape.

It took a moment to force your rigid muscles to push yourself back inside the room, hair strewn over your face and cheeks pink from the bite of the cold.

“We don't usually advise opening the windows here,” a melodic voice spoke over the wind.

Hissing in fright, you whipped your head behind you, to the most beautiful women you had ever seen. And beside her - the same blue siphoned male, his eyes aglow with hazel.

You fished for your voice then, strained in your throat from days of not speaking, the rush from the wind and the awe of what and who stood before you fighting for silence.

They were am incredibly handsome couple.

Folded clothes in her hand, the blond simply placed the outfit on a spare reading chair, moving lightly to re-hatch the window behind you. You almost sighed in relief as the piercing howling stopped.

“The windows are charmed to block out the noise,” she explained, her tone light and friendly despite the step of caution you took to distance yourself. “Well, don't you look good in black,” she perked, brown eyes scanning you, her smile sincere.

You looked down, the fabric of the coat drooping from your frame.

“I stole this,” you said dumbly, before cursing yourself silently.

The women laughed, and you could have sworn a slight smile pulled at the males lips too.

“That’s quite alright, besides, you were awake before I could deliver you some proper clothes,” she gestured to the set she bought in, but you were fixed on those golden locks, the way they bounced when she moved, and that dress…

“I’m Morrigan by the way, but you can call me Mor.” If she caught you staring at her, she did not let on.

You frowned, senses returning, and you scanned the room again. Formalities, names, nicknames –completely unnecessary, unless…

“I must carry on with my search,” you said sternly, eyes darting between her and the blue-siphoned male.

He knew. He would have told her.

Those large, towering wings pulled in tighter against his frame, and the male opened his mouth to respond. But Morrigon beat him to it.

“You’re awake much earlier than the healers expected. They advised you may need a few more days rest.”

You tried to hide your panic, eyes scanning her, then the door, then where Azriel stood between it.

Mor traced your eyes. “We are no threat to you,” she said gently.

You swallowed. “Then I am free to leave?”

Mor schooled her face into something softer, more sympathetic. “You may want to meet with out High Lord and Lady. I know they are eager to meet you.”

“Me?”

She nodded. “They wish to discuss your predicament.”

“Have they found my family?” you all but blurted, heart thundering with anticipation.

She shook her head then, her face falling more grave. “I’m sorry, I haven't any news.”

A gnawing at your stomach then - something was wrong. How long had they kept looking, had they found anyone?

“How many days was I-?"

“Four,” the male answered, hands still clasped behind his back. There was no smile on his face, but it remained soft.

“And up and about well ahead of the seven days the healers predicted! Quite the fighter you are Y/N,” Morrigan chirped.

You almost jumped at the use of your name. And then a scowl fixed on your face.

“My apologies!” More gasped quickly, and you missed the glare Azriel threw her way, Mor’s eyes meeting his with guilt. “Please forgive me, I forget that humans aren't accustomed to-"

“Mind reading?” you gritted, more exposed under the ridiculous ensemble of clothes you wore. You wish you could drown in the lengths of extra fabric.

Mor wore a broken smile. “Of sorts, yes.” She paused then, fretting to fill the silence. “Would you like to change your clothes? They should be to your size.”

You looked at the set neatly folded at the chair.

“The healers have washed you, but we can draw you another bath if you’d prefer?”

Your cheeks reddened at the question, the male’s eyes politely finding somewhere else in the room to fix that gaze.

Was this their way of telling you that you smelt?

Humiliated and frustrated, your eyes narrowed on the male. “What is your name?”

Hazel flicked back to you, and he took a moment of silence to observe you before answering. “Azriel.”

You eyed him up and down, taking him in fully. Tall, large, muscled - your attempts to stab him would have been laughable. Delirious indeed.

As he eyed you back, his gaze fixed your wrist, even while concealed beneath the velvet coat. “I am sorry to have hurt you.”

Civilised - far more civilised than you would have expected fae to be.

You cleared your throat. “Well, I suppose I’m sorry for my attempts of murder.”

His mouth pulled into a polite smile, the apples of his cheeks glowing in the firelight.

Mor chimed in then. “They told me you caught Azirel off guard, Y/N. Like I said - quite the fighter. Not just anyone can catch the Shadowsinger by surprise.”

Shadowsinger. As if at their mention, the furling, smoky shadows peaked from Azriel, and you let out a small yelp. It seemed it was your turn to be surprised.

Without a whisper of a word, they withdrew into the Shadowsinger himself, as if scolded back into place. Azriel gave no hint of amusement as he kept watching you.

Your eyes danced from him back to Mor, cheeks once again redening.

“This is… overwhelming,” you admitted.

Mor gave you a sympathetic smile, before placing a delicate, manicured hand on your shoulder. “A bath, then?”

You nodded, and she led you to the bathroom, candles lighting with the wave of her hand, and water now filling the marbled pool, steam quick to fill the room.

You forget about Azriel in the other room as Mor closed the door behind her, marvelling at the arches and architecture, a new set of large windows in this room, this time facing the city. You padded there mindlessly, watching the twinkle of the town that beckoned.

“Velaris,” Mor came to stand beside you. “Or, the City of Starlight. It’s location is well concealed, unknown by the other courts.”

You were reminded of the courts then, the brief lessons they had taught you at school. The divide of seven different courts, each ruled by a High Lord determined by their magic gifted the Mother and bloodline. Allies, enemies – it was complicated twining of politics and power.

But you had never heard of Velaris.

“This place is a secret?”

Mor nodded. “The true home of the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. A paradise they keep concealed, untouched by others.”

“Why?”

Mor chewed her cheek. “It’s safer this way,” she said simply.

“And you trust me with such information?”

Mor’s brown eyes warmed, but something sadder hid behind them. “It doesn't seem fair to lie to you about your own whereabouts.”

You nodded, eyes finding the city beyond again. “You mentioned the High Lord and Lady want to meet. Rhysand and Feyre?” Your head ached at the strain to remember their names, but the information found you.

Mor smiled at their names, and you remembered the way the males had too when they first found you. Loyalty coursed through them like some kind of magic. If you wanted to survive, you would be sure to respect their hierarchy.

“Morrigan,” you swallowed, bracing yourself for an answer. “Please, what do you know of the search?”

Mor stiffened, pausing for a moment. “The High Lord and Lady are on their way home to meet with you. They will tell you all they know.”

You eyed her carefully, your heart straining. “They haven't found my family, have they?”

Mor’s face of sympathy was beautiful, whether schooled or real. “I’m sorry, I really can not tell you.”

You swallowed once before nodding, eyes casting out to the city of Velaris, the name foreign in your mind.

“They are travelling as fast as they can, and should be here within a few hours,” she reassured. How or where from you didn't bother to ask.

“A bath then,” you nodded.

Mor smiled tightly. “Should you need anything, just ask. This house - the House of Wind - is just as alive as you and I. You should only have to speak what you wish.”

You nodded, hiding the overwhelming thought of a magical living house as the pool of warm scented water beckoned you with furls of steam.

“A fitting name,” you murmured, remembering of the persistent howl that waited just outside those obnoxious windows.

Mor grinned, catching your every word. “Isn’t it just,” she called and she fluttered from the room, pulling the large, carved door closed behind her.

You took a few moments of silence, again scanning the marble-splayed room you now found yourself in. Dream or reality, you were still yet to be convinced.

That was, until your dropped your undergarments, the thick wads of cotton stained with specks of bright, fresh blood. A saddened whimper escaped you, and your hands instantly found your belly, phantom cramps pulling from within.

You thought about calling for Morrigon, to demand an answer or to see a healer again. But deep down you knew, and that instinct to protect yourself, your privacy, was greater.

A waft of essential oils blew your way, as if the house was beckoning you to bathe. Toeing the water, each of your muscles seems to relax and steam clouded around you. An uncontrollable sigh left you as you moved deeper and deeper, breasts bobbing beneath the water, the muscles in your abdomen glad for the relaxant.

You had never had a bath like this, never indulged in such a level of luxury. Was this how all fae bathed, or just the ones so closely aligned with royals?

It was a jarring comparison to the tin bath in your family home, the steam quick to escape from the batches of hot water your mother boiled in the kettle when you were young. As you grew older, you would often forgo using the kettle, bearing the bite of the cold for efficiency, only treating the children when you bathed them.

A shock of panic found you as the pool dipped even deeper, and you shot from your toes back to the scooped edges of the pool, clinging to the edge. Obviously built for creatures much taller and larger than you, while you on the other hand had never learnt to swim. Not when your parents were so busy, and the creek behind your home merely ankle deep.

Bathe, change, and then you would have your answers - you reminded yourself. So you scrubbed with determination, dipping your head beneath the water and rubbing the pads of your fingers at your scalp too, washing away any remains of the taxing journey it took to get here.

You would start your search fresh, start anew, even swallow your hate for fae if it meant the help of the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. You could drink their wine and pass pleasant smiles if it meant they would aide you, if it meant your family returning home safely.

————

You looked at yourself in the mirror, the black tunic and pants gifted by Mor fitting better than any of your skirts and dresses back home. The fabric was soft yet thick, protecting you from the cold, even while the House of Wind seemed to warm from within.

There were slippers waiting by your bed, black also, and your skin seemed to glow from the oils from the bath. The face staring back at you was clean, yet tired, the bags under your eyes still a swell of purple. Forcing your shoulders back, you forced a stance of determination. You could do this, you could meet with the most powerful creatures of Prythian, and you would convince them to help you.

With a gentle knock at the door, a voice called. “It’s Mor.”

“Come in,” you answered turning from the mirror, hands finding the pockets on your pants.

Her eyes warmed at the site of you. “Black certainly does suit you,” she repeated, and you wondered about the comment from earlier. Loyalty to black, it seemed, was also a part of their strange culture. Perhaps something to do with the Night Court, and you wondered if the other courts found such ties to certain colours.

“Thank you for the clothes. I will return them once-"

Mor raised her hand dismissevely. “We’d hear of no such thing. Are you ready?”

You nodded. “Are they?”

“Rhys and Feyre arrived a half hour ago. They await you in their office.”

Mor seemed to want to take your hand, but rethought it, and instead raised a palm to the door.

“Follow me,” she hummed before striding for the door, red gown trailing behind her.

With a deep breath, you followed in silence.

————

“Here she is,” Mor cooed musically as she pushed the doors open to the office, the High Lord and Lady stopping their polite conversation with as they turned to take you in.

Your knees almost buckled under their gaze.

That power, even as a human you felt it from many steps away, steely blue and violet eyes seemingly pinning you to your spot. A heavy dose of intimidation overcame you and your body faltered, even though their eyes remained soft, their smiles friendly.

They both stood, Rhysand donned in a neat black suit, Feyre’s dark gown falling from her frame like liquid night. Gorgeous – an absolutely gorgeous sight the both of them were.

“A pleasure to meet you,” Feyre spoke, her voice and as smooth as Morrigon’s, yet younger.

“Welcome to our home,” Rhysand added.

Blinking between the two, your knees almost groaned as you forced a curt bow. “Thank you, High Lord and High L-Lady,” you stammered. “For your hospitality.”

You waited for any sign of compliance from your bow - knowing that fae spoke a language of hierarchy and formality.

But your were instead met with an informal sideways smile of Feyre. “Please, call us Rhys and Feyre.”

You nodded, although you couldn't see yourself respecting that wish.

“Are you feeling any better?” Rhysand asked, violet eyes piercing, refusing to leave you. “We were told you had survived almost a fortnight on your own. That is very impressive.”

You weren't sure you’d ever get used to the unblinking ways of the fae as you blushed at his compliment. Had their parent’s never taught them it was rude to stare?

The smallest of smiles tugged at Rhys’s lips.

But you muffled your thoughts, forcing yourself to answer. “Feeling much better, thank you High Lord. You swallowed tightly, fishing for the right words to say. “And to your healers,” you added with rush. “Thanks to them too.”

“I am glad,” Rhysand smiled, moved back into his seat and gesturing for you to do the same.

“I’ve informed Y/N that you would update her on the search for the humans, to explain your own findings.” You could have kissed Mor for steering the conversation, desperate to hear what the High Lord and Lady had to say.

Feyre immediately began fiddling with the fingers, before Rhysand took them in his own hand. You observed closely at the small interaction, Feyre’s nervous fidget, Rhysand’s immediate response. They seemed to speak na unspoken language.

Not good, not good, not good. Your nails instinctively settled into familiar wounds at your palms.

“Of course,” Rhysand answered, his beautiful features schooling into something more serious as his voice softened.

Feyre’s eyes found you then, something like regret and sorrow burrowed within. In that moment alone, their difference in upbringing was at contrast. Rhys - ever the schooled socialite, tamed and controlled behaviour from years of perfecting courteous mannerisms. Feyre on the other hand – human, child-like sincerity shone through despite her pointed ears and occasional glimpse of canines.

“I’m sorry to say that we have not found your family Y/N,” Rhysand said straightly.

You nodded, assuming that had been the case. That didn't stop the sting in your eyes, or lurch of you gut. You clamped your lips against the wobble that already threatened.

“The truth is, we haven’t found a single human since finding you.”

Instantly the room began to reel, Rhysand and Feyre tipping slightly as your heart skipped to an irregular thunder.

How could this be? You had been asleep for four days, between their armies and winged beings among them, how could they not find a single other? Your mind screamed a flurry of questions, but your remained stiff, only moving to grip the arms of your chair.

Rhysand sighed then, glancing once at his mate who’s look of regret only deepened, tears shining in those grey-blue eyes.

“It is with the deepest regret that we inform you we have traced a powerful magic from the lands of Hybern. A spell, rather.”

You forced your voice past the lump in your throat, past the bile that swarmed in your mouth. “What spell is that?”

Tears spilled from Feyre’s eyes, whatever control she had on her breaking into unmistakable grief.

No, no don’t say it - your mind screamed.

“As spell to kill all humans,” she whispered.

You blinked. And the others watched, waiting.

You blinked a few more times.

"What did you say?"

Rhys's frown was pained. "It seems Hybern was intent on capturing your lands, and used a magic so strong it expelled humans..."

But Rhys's voice grew muffled as your vision narrowed, clouding with darkness.

And then it hit you.

It was as if someone had pulled the floor from underneath you. The room tipped unforgivably, vision blurring and stomach lurching with the lack of food in days.

A broken noise escaped you.

“Y/N, you must breath,” a voice spoke.

Panicked, laboured breaths wheezed from you, and you clenched your eyes shut past the horror of what they had told you.

Meek breaths passed your chest as you tried to speak. “I don’t-how, I don't understand.”

“Hybern has access to the cauldron, and we believe he used it to seize the territory of human lands.”

“It worked then, then spell? They’re gone?” You voice was hoarse, breathy with distraught. Tears had not found you yet, only an overwhelming dread laced with a flicker of denial.

Even while the room danced around you, you caught Rhysand’s tight nod, his face grave and solemn. “We are so sorry.”

Mor’s hand was gentle at your back, as an all consuming anxiety took over and you clutched at your head.

“Please do not touch me,” you rasped, audible wheezes catching in your throat.

Immediately her hand lifted.

“Dead, then,” you swallowed another rise of bile, raising frantic eyes to Feyre.

Broken eyes locked with yours. “I’m so very, very sorry Y/N” she whispered.

“My family, my siblings? Dead?”

She was crying, but you didn't care. You waited for the answer. All she offered was a nod.

A broken, crazed laugh found you then. It was a cold, lonely thing, and you caught Mor exchange a look with her High Lord. There was nothing they could do except watch as you ran shaking hands over your face.

You were trembling, eyes dancing frantically. No. No no no. This was unbelievable. You didn't believe them, you refused to.

“Impossible,” you scoffed.

“We wish it were, Y/N truly,” Mor said softly.

“Then pray tell, how it is that I survived?”

“We’re perplexed by you remaining, Y/N. We have no answer for it,” Rhys offered, a tanned hand stroking at Feyre’s back in practiced comfort.

“Liar,” you snarled, standing so quickly your chair fell back.

Liars - the lot of them, to tell you of the extinction of humans when you sat there alive and well in their home.

Rhys’s eyes pinned you, as if expecting your outburst. “I can’t begin to imagine your grief Y/N, but we tell no lies.”

“I don't believe you,” you spat, hands curling into trembling fists. “You wish to keep me here, to trap me!” Anger rose within you. Typical fae tricks and fibs, that's all this was.

“I would have thought the same thing if I were still human,” Feyre coaxed, wiping at her eyes. “I don't blame you for not trusting us. I truly wish we were lying.”

Something in her sincerity knocked you, cracking at your anger, demanding you to consider their words true.

But your shook your head stubbornly, crazed by their audacity, distancing yourself from the devastation that loomed underneath.

“I will not stay here and listen to this.”

You heeded for the door, pulling on the handles with trembling hands, only to find that blue siphoned male waiting on the other side.

Azriel.

His arms were neatly tucked behind his back, legs wide and ready as if waiting for you.

If only you had your knife.

“You will let me leave,” you all but growled, eyes darting from behind him back to his frame, looking for your way out. He bore no weapons this time , but it wasn't as if he needed them.

Azriel’s eyes softened. “I can’t.” His voice was soft and steady. “It’s not safe for you out there.”

Your fists clenched tighter. “I don’t care! I will not sit here prisoner, I need to find the truth for myself.”

You made to step around him, but those rippled hands gripped you, from the shoulders this time.

“Let go of me!” You struggled against him, but his grip remained strong.

“Listen to me. Hybern has sent an army and they sweep the human lands as we speak. I saw it for myself – if they find you, they will kill you.”

The integrity in his voice, deep down you knew he was telling the truth, even if you refused to believe it. Because believing it meant you had lost everything, everyone. It meant the cruelest punishment from the gods - not another day with the laughter of your siblings, the caress of your mother or hold from your father. No home, no love, no warmth - just a bobbing existence, with grief as your only friend.

Perhaps that’s why you started sobbing, still trying to pry Azriel’s hands from you with his own.

“I don’t care, I don’t care!” you cried, voice breaking as fat tears rolled down your cheeks. “I want my family!”

Azriel cast a worried look back to the others who could only watch with pained expressions.

Mor sprung into action, fetching a blanket from a nearby room.

“You are liars, territorial murderers, the lot of you! How could you let this happen?” your voice was hoarse once again, your knees buckling as shock took over.

Azriel moved with you, gently bringing you to the ground as you wept, your legs folding underneath.

The blanket was strewn around you gently, Azriel’s touch surprisingly tender. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice a strangely soothing balm against your turmoil. "I wish things were different. But your safety is paramount."

You wanted to fight against it, to push and claw and burrow in the bubble of denial, but you hadn’t any energy left.

Waking to an empty home, to empty streets, days of travel without another human in sight – perhaps you knew all along that this nightmare was real.

The room continued to spin as reality sunk in. Your family, gone. Your siblings, so young, so innocent. The humans wiped clean from the world. A full scale genocide, and you were the only one to survive it.

"They were children," you wailed, your words a harrowing cry. "They were only children."

Injustice, isolation and grief was leaden on your chest, so constricting and heavy you thought you might die.

“I-I can’t breath.” One palm braced on the wooden floor, the other against your heart as you began to pant. Eyes darting between the fae that watched on, you clutched at your chest, panic swarmed with bile.

And then you made sick.

Azriel's grip didn't falter, and someone moved to pull the hair from your stinging eyes.

"Try to focus on your breathing, Y/N," a voice coaxed in your mind, male or female you couldn’t tell. "In and out, slowly."

But the air felt thick, suffocating, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on you. Each breath seemed to be a struggle against an invisible force, and panic tightened its grip around your heart.

That voice in your head again. ”Just keep breathing," it said gently, the voice cutting through the haze of your panic. "Focus on my voice. You're safe here, I promise."

The words were like a lifeline in the storm raging within you, and you clenched your eyes shut, clinging to it.

Rhysand approached cautiously, his expression a mixture of sympathy and sorrow. "Az," he prompted, and the male raised from his knees.

Rhysand crouched down in front of you, his gaze unwavering. "We'll explain everything after you've rested Y/N, I promise," he said, his voice carrying the weight of truth.

And as the room slowly ceased its relentless spinning, you found yourself clinging to that promise, holding onto the hope that amidst the devastation, there was still a path forward, however uncertain it may be.

The world outside was dangerous, filled with uncertainty and threats you couldn't begin to comprehend. And Hybern. He had killed your family. Your siblings, those sweet innocent children who you loved so dearly. Your parents too.

Sobs wracked through you again, your body giving out as you let out a muffled whimper of grief.

Strong arms slid from under you turning you over to cup you by your arms and knees. And then you were being carried, away from that horrible scene, from the mess on the floor where your world came crashing down.

You clung to whatever you could, the blanket, Azriel’s shirt, you didn't really care – but you clung and cried. Even when you were again met with the softness of a mattress, even when the weight of the duvet being drawn over as it settled against your skin.

In that tumbleweed of devastation, a rippled hand soothed you, coaxing you to sleep. You gladly let it, letting the horrors of the world slip away, even if only for a moment.

“Just rest now. You are safe.”

And with a final thought, you sent a prayer to the Mother to not wake up to this nightmare.

A/N: Hey pals, thank you so so much for the love and support of Part 1!! I sincerely hope you liked part 2! <3 <3 Now would you like some fries with that angst? Because it'll only get darker from here. Again, I'll tag everything I can at the top of the fic, but please have a look at the warnings ahead, I would hate to hurt anyone <3 <3 If you'd like to join the tag list for this fic, drop a comment! Thank you so much for reading, mwa!!

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non-stop-imagines · 5 months

Text

Cute

From this request 💖🤭

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Black Fem Content Creator!Reader (@/brinathedoll on ig faceclaim)

Summary: In which Charles thinks you're really cute and it gets annoying.

Word Count: ~10.4k words

Warning: Smut (p in v), face fucking, Hard!Dom Charles (bet that's a surprise), fingering, corruption kink (my best attempt), tummy bulge, "slut" being used a couple times, squirting, breeding kink towards the end, outfits, Twitter environment, mean comments, online translator French, ruining clothing, Minors DNI!!! 18+

A/N: It's 🏎️ anon's turn! 🥳 You have no idea how much I wanted to get to this one. Y'all already know how much I love Charles and this is my first smutty fic for him. I'm living the dream. 🤩 This one was fun, and the request was very helpful, very detailed it was a fic on its own! 🤣😚 Anyway hope you all enjoy. Thank you 🏎️ anon for your patience! I hope it lives up to your amazing idea! Love you all bbys!!! 💖💛💖💛💖

Translations: d'accord, mon amour=okay, my love;Putain de morveux=Fucking brat;Mon petit ange impatient=my eager little angel;Vous comprenez?=Do you understand?; Mon petit ange désordonné.=My messy little angel; Baise-moi=Fuck me; Mon parfait petit ange=My perfect little angel

Masterlist

______♥______

lyttleagnelyn

Liked by carlossainz55 and 268,307 others

lyttleagnelyn 🌸°~♥Life with Charlie¹⁶♥~°🌸

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charlesleclerc A perfect life if I say so myself 🥰

user1 🌸🩷🌸🩷

user2 You can see the obsession in his eyes 😍

lilymhe Cuties 🥰🪷🩷🌸

>lyttleagnelyn You and Alex are the blueprint 😚

user3 I need another clothing haul bc these outfits are so cute I CANT-

>lyttleagnelyn How about with a special guest? 👀

>user3 YES TF ❗❗

scuderiaferrari Petition for Charles' next special helmet to have rabbit ears on it 📜

>lyttleagnelyn I would happily help design it 🥰🐰

>charlesleclerc And I would happily wear it

>user6 If your your gonna DNF, you can at least look cute while doing it ☺️🌸🪷🐰

user4 That emo boys shirt is killing me cause you have the softest man in the world 😭

>lyttleagnelyn He tries his best 😔😭

user5 Charles.jpg in the works

>charlesleclerc I'm afraid those aren't for the public eye 😗

>lyttleagnelyn Charlie why??? 😭

>user5 Yes, Charlie why? 😭😭😭😭

>charlesleclerc They're just too cute for anyone else but me, mon ange

"Thank you for doing this with me, baby. It'll be fun, I promise." You practically bounce around the excessive light pinkness of your filming room as you finish prepping everything for your video. Charles insisted that he created this room for you when you moved in with him months prior. "You need a room you feel comfortable in, mon ange." Is what he said when you tried to protest it, not wanting to take over his space, but here you were, getting ready to film on your pretty pink dedicated office.

"I don't doubt it, Mon ange." Charles sat in your computer chair, hugging to him a Hello Kitty plushie that originally sat close to it, watching you move around, waiting for you to start filming. "If it's anything like the makeup video, I know it'll be fun." He loved watching you in your element, around your things. He would paint his entire apartment pink if it meant he could see the smile you had and that sparkle in your eyes 24/7.

"You just liked the attention you got from that one." You walk over to him and fluff his hair bit before leaning down for a quick peck on the lips. "I have to give it to you, you knew your stuff."

"When your girlfriend takes as long as you do to get ready, you get curious." He's reluctant to release his arm that he wrapped around your waist when you approached him but he eventually does, letting his hand fall back to the plush in his lap when you head back over to the camera.

"Okay, ready?" You look back towards Charles, ready to press record on the tripod in front of you.

"Yep, ready." He gives you a thumbs up, now starting to twist in the rotating chair, still holding on to the stuffed animal. His eyes possessively surveyed you as you began your video.

"Heeelllooo my little lovelies, welcome back to another video. If your new here, hi, my name is Yn. I am here today with a very special guest making his first physical appearance on my channel, my loving and very trusting boyfriend, Charles. Aka Scuderia Ferrari Formula One driver Charles Leclerc." You beam, and playfully jog back to your computer chair, standing behind him and placing your chin on his head.

"Hello everyone." He doesn't even try to match your enthusiasm, going with his usual enthusiastic tone, because he knew from experience that no normal human being has as much energy as you do at any given moment.

"So if you noticed that I described my Charlie here as a very trusting boyfriend, it was because, unlike you all who know what this video will be, he does not. Charles just blindly agreed to joining me today. So, you want to know what I'm gonna have you do today?" You head was now next his, turned to the side so you were looking at his side profile which soon became a full view of his face where he gave you a quick kiss before answering.

"I would like to know, yes." He chuckled out his words and let an eye crinkling smile grow on his face.

"You, my love, are going to be rating some outfits for me made up of clothes that I already had and some stuff I just bought." You drape your arms over his shoulders, your full attention on him and his on you, you feeling warm under the excessively adoring eyes.

"Okay, that's interesting. So, like, on a scale of 1-10?" Charles seems to search for something in your face, a possible flicker of uncertainty that comes with ideas you have in instances where you liked the idea but the follow through made you too uncomfortable. This was not one of those times as you nod sprightly with gleaming eyes.

"Mhmm. If it's okay with you, of course. I kinda blindly roped you into this." Your smile drops slightly and one of your hands begin to swipe at Charles' over grown hair as you awaited his answer.

"If it's okay with you, it's definitely okay with me, mon ange. I like seeing your cute little outfits anyway." The eye crinkling smile was back on his face as you attacked his cheek with rapid-fire kisses, leaving light lip gloss marks.

"Thank you, baby! You're the best!" You press on last kiss you his lips and then plant yourself between the him and the camera to finish your intro. "Alrighty, let's not waste anymore time and get this started, shall we?" You turn to look at Charles catching him deep in thought, straight faced shifting jaw and darkened eyes. "I'll be right back with the first outfit, okay? You talk to the people." You disappear into the walk-in closet in the room to change, leaving Charles to do as told. Talk to the people.

"This is no different than when she usually comes home after shopping. I will happily stop whatever I am doing and watch her try on her new clothes." He looks away from the camera to take a brief gander around the room, knowing that you be able to edit the silent bits out later. His eyes roamed the light pink walls of the room, plastered in various equally pink posters, the white computer desk against the wall perpendicular to the bedroom door and a well organized pile of plushies on the other side of the room. The closest door to the right of the desk held an adorablely decorated mirror that directly faced the Classic Rose pink colored canopy bed that Charles also insisted was put in here for various reasons: being able to take naps, for example, when you wore yourself out from editing or other content related work that you would always throw your entire self into. There were, of course, less savory reasons that bed was in this room in that exact spot, but luckily the twist of the closest door knob brought him back to the reality and prepared him to see your first look.

"Okay, outfit number one. There will be about 10 by the way." You give that message to both your boyfriend and the camera before going back to posing and turning around so you whole outfit can be seen. You turn to face the camera to give your spiel on where each item was from whether it was part of the haul or you previously had it. Charles eyes moved up the back of you taking in how well the jeans fit your butt, how your shirt bunched up in the middle to show your midriff, giving your belly ring the backdrop it needs to be shown off against your brown skin. But none of those details caught his eye like the thin pink ribbon that was wrapped around your ponytail, bringing back that sense of innocence to the outfit that he enjoyed. Once you were done you turned to face Charles. "What do you think, baby?"

"You look very, very cute, Mon ange." You gleefully spin in another circle so he is able to get one more good look at the entire outfit.

"Mercí. So, on a scale of 1-10, what would you rate it?" You absentmindedly alternate a mild hyperextension of you knees as you waited for an answer.

"Erhm, I would rate it an 8." He says this with an emphasized tone that was very specific to him, pausing at certain words and elongating the "an".

"Okay...why an 8?" You walk into the hand that he lowly held out, ending up standing between his legs but standing to the side so the camera could see him, his fingers scaling over your exposed lower back.

"Uhh, again you look very cute, but it's a bit, uh, edgier that your other outfits. Also, you feel more comfortable in skirts than pants, no?" That gauging look was on his face, hoping that he had his facts straight and wasn't making a crude misjudgement.

"That's true, but these jeans made my butt look great, so I made an exception." You leave Charles' vicinity and move to your mirror to get a glimpse for yourself.

"That is true. The jeans fit you very well. That entire outfit fits you very well." His hands go back to squeezing the plush that he honestly forgotten was in his grasp when you walked out of arms length.

"Thank you." You bend over the slight bit to give him a short kiss, his thumb and ring finger needlessly propping up your chin. "Okay, next outfit!"

After another few minutes where Charles sat alone, reminiscing about the first outfit, you came out of your closet in the second outfit. "Okay, outfit number two."

The boy was stunned. He literally sat silent, jaw basically on the floor as he looked you up and down. "That is a 10. Hands down." He spoke with the utmost seriousness, making you feel a bit shy but also even more confident in the outfit that just felt completely you.

"That was quick. I didn't even get to talk to the people yet." You took a step closer to him letting the hand that he held out hold onto your thigh, fingers running over the pink fishnet stockings you had on.

"Oh, yes. Go do that." He shoots you away and you make quick work of explaining your outfit, wanting to hear why he was so swift in rating the outfit a 10.

"Okay, now why a 10?" You settle into his lap this time, plucking the plush from his lap and gently placing it on the floor.

"Well I love the pink. Pink is definitely your color." He pulls you closer to him as he examined your outfit a bit more. "The lace on your shirt, the uh-cor-um" He waves his hand around his own shirt, trying to remember the name of the type of shirt you had on that he has heard a number of times.

"Corset?" You remind him, your hands gravitating to his hair as they always do

"Oui! Yes, corset. The lace on it it beautiful. And I really like the stockings and the lace on those, too. This outfit really does make you glow." Your heart speeds up from how tenderly he says the last statement. His voice was a bit lower and more gruff, coaxing you into deep languid kisses until you remembered that the camera was still there, recording everything.

"Geez, your really trying to make me have to work at editing this thing huh?" You smack his chest and hand back the Hello Kitty plush that he accepts unhesitatingly, chuckling at your frantic realization.

"I have no idea what you are talking about." An adorable laugh is laced through his voice as he watches you disappear into the closet to change into your next outfit.

The rest of the video goes on basically in the same order: You come out in the outfit, give where each piece is from, and then turn to get Charles rating which was accompanied by various cheek warming praises ("You look absolutely adorable, Mon ange.", "That is perfect for you, baby.", "How are you so cute?"). After the last outfit, though, you had a small surprise for him.

"Okay, so I know I said 10 outfits, but I have one last thing I wanted to try on for you guys..." You spoke to the camera quickly then rushed off toward your closet, stopping and looking at Charles for a moment. "You're gonna like this one." And then as you did 10 times before, you disappeared behind the door, leaving Charles still holding the plush and racking his brain as to what this last outfit might be. A few minutes later, you open the door a crack. "So, I know that summer is nearly done, but there were so many swimsuits on sale so I knew I would've been crazy not to get at least one sooo..." You carefully step out of the closet with small steps, not yet passing the door for the camera to be able to see you. "You like it?" You bring pink acrylic nail to your teeth as you wait for an answer from, a now gawking, Charles.

"I-that-aaa-bwow. Ah, yes. I do like it. Alot." His eyes slowly move down your body, eyes obviously lingering on each piece of the bikini you had on. The lace trim that followed the curve of your boobs, the pink plaid and strawberry detailing. This then led to his eyes trailing down your exposed brown skin, shining against the pink like it always does, down your stomach, stopping briefly at your belly ring and then finishing down your legs, mind going to what's between them. He now finds a use for the Hello Kitty plush, clasping it to his lap to hide the major hard-on producing. He then cuts his eyes to the camera, remembering what he was there for, and cuts his eyes again, this time for the purpose of nonverbally asking "Are you okay with wearing that on camera?"

"Oh, it's fine, baby. I want to show them." You finally emerge from the closet to give a full view of yourself to the camera, going on to explain where the swimsuit is from and the details you like about it. Charles tuned every single word out now that he had a prolonged view of the backside on the ensemble, finally being able to see how great your ass looked, but it was a miniscule detail that really caught his eye. The thin pink ribbon that still held your hair in a ponytail. Your playful innocence flooding back to his vision of you in his mind, offseting the... provocative style of the girly patterned bikini. He clutched tighter to the plush in his lap.

"So, yeah. I just really liked it...and as you can see by the blank stare, Charles really likes it as well. It's different, huh? The fit of it is a bit sexier than my other ones, right?" You turn to Charles to ask the question and saunter into his arms, beginning to mess with his hair again just to see your decorated nails run through it.

"Sure, you could say that. But, um, I do really like you in it. It's very cute on you." He grins up at you with adoring eyes and gestures with his lips to request a kiss from you which you grant.

"Thank you. Now let me go put on some real clothes and I will be back to close out the video." You bound to the closet again after speaking to the camera. Charles sat patiently, the image of you in that bikini burned in his brain.

_________

"That was fun." Charles said as he finally got up from the computer chair, stretching out his limbs and carefully replacing Hello Kitty in the spot he plucked her from initially.

"Yay! I'm glad you had fun. I enjoyed it. You know how much I like trying out new outfit inspos." You unhook the camera from the tripod and briefly make sure at least something recorded.

"Inspos?" He stops his wandering about the room to inquire about the unfamiliar word.

"Short for inspiration, baby." You set the camera down and walk over Charles, wrapping your arms around his torso and resting your chin on his chest.

"Ah. Yes, I do know how much you like trying on new clothes. And you looked adorable in each and every one. Especially that swimming suit." You giggle at yet another compliment and prop up onto your tip toes to accept the kiss he was craning his neck to give you.

"Thank you. For that and for doing the video." You hug close to him, getting a comforting huff of his cologne while his hand runs up and down your back.

"De rien, mon ange. Anything for you." He presses one more kiss to the top of your head, your vanilla scent strong enough to taste and thin pink ribbon in your hair still teasing him.

"Okay, you may go. Go do whatever Charles does while I edit, okay?" You wave him off toward the door and make your way to your desk, sitting criss cross on your computer chair.

"Okay, okay." He heads to the door to exit but turns to you, your back to him, already clicking through everything to begin editing. His eyes traced the pink ribbon that followed the gentle curve of your ponytail. That fucking ribbon. "Make sure you take a break, Mon ange. We can watch a movie or something."

"Okay!" You call back, waving him away. He giggled, shaking his head and closing the door most of the way. He had to distract himself. Every single outfit you tried on drove him crazy, the contrast the girlish pink ribbon added to each progressively provocative outfit, and the bikini, that drove him over the edge.

"Fuck it." Charles detoured into the bathroom and closed the door, pushing down his sweatpants just enough to release his cock from confinement, precum already beaded on the tip. Immediately he began stroking, providing the much needed friction to relieve the arousal that manifested. "Mon petit ange innocent, you drive my fucking crazy..."

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lyttleagnelyn

Liked by lilymhe and 230,739 others

lyttleagnelyn A 10 in some 8s and 9s 🌸🪷🌸

(Go watch my new video and this will make sense. And to see the only outfit that was ranked a 10. Link in bio🩷)

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user7 IT GIRL 🩷

charlesleclerc You should've showed them all 😚

>lyttleagnelyn Then they wouldn't have a reason to go watch the video 🥺

>charlesleclerc To watch your cuteness in action is reason enough

joris__trouche Next vid you pick out Charles' outfit 👀

>user8 Now here is a man of the people

>user9 You're saying that like Charles wouldn't absolutely love it 🥹

user10 It needs to be said that polar bear outfit is highly underrated

>user11 TURN IT UP 🎛️

lewishamilton 🩷😊

>lyttleagnelyn Thanks Lew 😚

>user12 I didn't know I need this friendship until this very moment and I will not accept anything less

user13 I don't know why but I love that she brings this style to the paddock bc them fits are starting to get boring 🩷

__________

"Open your legs wider, Mon ange, so you can see your pretty little pussy in the mirror." Your eyes connected with his in the reflection of your pink themed mirror on your closet. The image was a completely lewd contrast to the back drop, you fully nude, legs splayed open, Charles' jean clad legs encircling yours and his arms, covered in the sleeves of his sweatshirt, leading to hands that were defiling you in their own ways. One was wrapped around your upper body, fondling your breast as the other caressed your upper thigh, drawing ever so close to your core.

"Like this?" He watched you in the mirror as you adjusted your legs, lazily rubbing at your clit as he instructed you to do earlier.

"Yes, perfect. Look at how cute you look." He presses his mouth to your hair, keeping his face there and allowing the thin pink ribbon he tied around your already up ponytail to tickle his face.

"Charles, I don't know how much longer..." Your hand starts to slow down drastically, almost stopping, but a firm grip on your wrist from Charles keeps the movement going.

"C'mon, amour. I know you can do better than this." His presses a couple kisses to your hair and then notches his head in the crook of your neck, eyes switching between your actual hand rubbing circles on your cute swollen cunt, and the reflection smiling back at him from the closet door. His other hand quickly swats 2 slaps to your tit, creating small shocked whimpers from you that he finds great amusement in. "Also, you know what to call me, Mon ange."

"Daddy, I don't know if I can do it again." Your hand got pressed into your clit some more, making slow but strong circles that make you whimper on repeat.

"I know you can give me one more, Mon ange." You concede and keep rubbing, the achy, over sensitivity making you lull your head back. You didn't notice that your eyes had been squeezed shut until they flutter open, relieving your eyelids of the strain and giving you a dreamy view of Charles, his eyes trained on the addictingly obscene reflection in the mirror. Unfortunately, the early comments from your video began ringing in your ears, taunting you, so you decide to test the waters.

"Nooo, what about you? I can give you one?" You effeciently remove your hand from his grasp and attempt to clumsily reach into his belted jean. He watched for a moment, charmed by your novice attempt at trying to get him off yourself, but just as easily as you had removed your hand, your wrist was being gripped again, this time with out the allowance of reach to his torso. You whine, defeated. He was your boyfriend. That's what boyfriends wanted their girlfriends to do, right? "I just want to make you feel good..."

"Making you feel good makes me feel good, Mon amour." He slowly guides your hand back to your clit starting the agonizingly slow, ineffective rub on your clit again. "But, if you really want to make me feel good, amour, you will make a mess for me, just like I know you can."

"But I don't think I can cum again..." Your hand keeps rubbing, but now the ache of your overused clit coupled with your bubbling frustration were already hard at work dampening your arousal. Seeing Charles in the mirror, his tongue swirling around his middle and ring finger is the only thing that seems to keep one last drop of sexual intrigue.

"I know, Mon ange. That's okay, because I am going to help you. You just have to keep your eyes on the mirror, d'accord, mon amour? And do not stop rubbing your cute swollen clit." He takes the two fingers, now lubricated with saliva, and rubs them over your slit before pushing both appendages inside you. The whimper you let out was choked, brain torn between annoyance and the painful pleasure you were feeling. You didn't want him to think that this would make you forget what just happened, but it was enough to make you forget for now. His fingers set an agonizingly slow pace at first, pulling all the way out and rubbing your arousal over your pussy lips and inner thighs, then plunging back in. He knew exactly how to curl his fingers, exactly how much pressure to place on the bumpy membrane of your g-spot, and the exact speed he has to move his fingers to get to the end he wanted. Honestly, he could've done this from the beginning. One and done. But he has felt a shift in your mood, so he wanted to show you how much he loved you in the way he believed he knew best. "Look at yourself, Mon ange. Look at how adorable your face is." He kisses along your cheek bone, eyes continuously fixated on the reflection.

"Daddy..." Your hand jolts from your clit to Charles wrist when his fingers abruptly speed up and you begin to feel pressure build in your pelvis, a gesture which he clicks his tongue at before using the hand that was still abusing your nipples to pluck it from his arm and motions for you to continue rub your clit.

"Squirt for me, Mon ange. Show me how messy my cute little girl can get. Ruin the sheets, I can get you pretty new ones." He kisses along your shoulder, reveling in the pornographic sounds and faces you made. He watched as you stare at yourself in the pink, Sanrio character covered mirror, unable to hide exactly how good you felt. You couldn't say anymore words, only whimpers, whines, and any other sexual sounding high-pitched noise bubbles from your chest as Charles brutally fucked you with his fingers at a blistering pace. Your vision gets spotty as the familiar sensation floods over you, pun intended. Charles' fingers continue as liquid sprays from you, legs straightening out and shaking as the convulsions of your third orgasm of the night take over your body, liquid flowing from you pooling at your butt, flowing around the blockage to get to Charles' jeans.

"See, Mon ange? I knew you could do it. You did so good for me." His fingers, now removed, traced languid shapes along the inside of your thigh, his other hand that never left your chest now sliding up to your neck, guiding your face upward so could proceed with a messy, rushed make out. You were nearly unconscious, still coming down from your high. "Let's get you cleaned up." You felt yourself being picked up bridal style, arms reflexively wrapping around your boyfriend's neck, face nestled into his shoulder. Your brain slowly became less clouded as you were carried to the bathroom, a reminder of your boyfriend's unwillingness to have you touch him, and how everyone may just be right...

_______

It's only been a week since you posted the video and already it's your most viewed, most liked video. The comments have been raving. So many positive things to say about your outfits and how much people can tell Charles loves you from the way he speaks to you and looks at you. But those weren't the ones that were plastered all over your mind. "Absolutely nothing about any of these outfits are sexy...", "How is Charles able to date this girl when she dresses like a child...", "I am failing to see what she has that Charlotte or Alex didn't have that makes Charles want to be with her...". It was literally only a handful of comments, but each one of them cut you like a knife, and had you laying on the living room couch, cuddled up to your boyfriend, questioning the security of your almost year long relationship.

Your head was resting comfortably on Charles' thigh, his hand moving along your right arm, caressing the flesh gently with his finger tips. You were in some of your favorite pajamas, but as the harsh comments continued to coil around your brain, you could feel yourself physically curling in, becoming increasingly self conscious of your style choices to the point where you were questioning what you wore in the comfort of your own home.

"Are you cold, Mon ange?" Charles pulls the plush pink blanket you kept on the back of the couch down and covers your body, rubbing his entire hand up and down your arm to relieve you from your suspected coldness.

"Baby, what did you think about Alex dressed? Or Charlotte? Did you like their styles?" You don't look at him, you knew you would cry upon eye contact. You could feel his body tense up at the mention of his exes, but he goes on to respond anyway.

"Hm? Why do you ask, Mon amour?" You could feel his eyes boring into the side of your head. He wanted you to look at him. He wanted to see the emotion your eyes gave away so he could gauge where the inquiry was coming from.

"Oh, I- uh...you know. Just wondering. We haven't really talked about your exes." You hope the answer was enough to curb his curiosity, feeling relieved when you feel his hand continue to move again and the vibration though his body as a low hum goes through him as he thinks.

"Uh, well. I guess their styles worked for them. Their personalities. They both were, um, quite, ehh, reserved." He removes his hand from your arm to scratch the side of his nose and then quickly replaced it.

"Would you say you preferred how they acted?" Fuck stealth, you wanted answers.

"Now, I wouldn't say that. Again it just kind of fit them. I can't really imagine them acting differently. Like you personality fits you. Your cute and, uh, bright and the clothes you wear are just as cute and bright." Your subconscious could here the pride in his voice when he made his point, but your forebrain just heard that word. Cute.

"But did you find their personalities more attractive? Like...sexier, or whatever?" You knew you over stepped when you feel his body tighten up again.

"Mon amour, what are these questions?" He chuckled to diffuse his tension, but he still added this moment to a mental list he was making of ways you seem to be second guessing yourself.

"Nevermind, it's stupid." You cuddle into his leg again, giving up on trying to get a clear answer on what Charles really thinks about you. Still he goes on to answer an unasked question.

"Mon ange, I love you, okay? I think you are absolutely perfect the way you are." His hand on your arm moved to your cheek, a singular digit turning your head toward him so he could kiss you. He was telling the complete truth. He loved you more than he could've ever fathomed. His eyes wandered over your face, how your brown skin and eyes glowed in the light of the television. You always just seemed to glow.

"Thank you, baby. I love you, too." You gave the obligatory answer that obviously held truth, but you couldnt help but let the negativity continue to echo through your head. As the night went, the program on the TV became static as you began to formulate a plan to make yourself undeniably irresistible to your boyfriend. Step one: Ditch the cute.

"Mon ange? Are almost ready? We have to get going soon." Charles paces in the foyer of the Belgian hotel suite, typing out a message to his trainer that you two were heading down. He does stop for a moment, glancing toward the bathroom, adding another thing to his mental list of how you've been acting differently. You're mood has been off, much quieter and reserved, and he made another mental note when he realized you haven't talked about video ideas recently. Your outfits have been drained of the pretty pinks and whites and instead have been replaced by dark blues browns and blacks. Piggybacking off of that, it's always taken you some time to get ready makeup wise, but it's also been taking forever for you to get dressed, like you had to force yourself into these new, reserved outfits.

"Yeah, I'm ready..." You were hesitant to leave the bathroom. You worked hard to convince yourself that what you were wearing wasn't much different than what you usually wore. Sure the fully brown jumpsuit was technically darker than the primarily pink outfit staring at you from the floor...and you did prefer a skirt to pants...but this was still an outfit that you would be expected to wear. The addition of the cream colored cropped zip up added the softness to the outfit that allowed you to feel as comfortable as your possibly could. So after taking a deep breath and mentally coach yourself through nonchalantly exiting the bedroom, you approach Charles who breaks away from his thoughts and immediately notices the difference in your wardrobe.

"You look nice." He makes no move to leave the hotel room, wide eyes scaling your appearance.

"You didn't sound very confident about that." You finish applying a clear lip gloss in the mirror on the wall and then look up through your lashes at Charles and his unmoving body. Your heart rate increases as his uncertain tone replays in your head.

"Oh, no amour. You look adorable, really. Your outfits never fail to look beautiful. It's just...it's a bit darker than usual. I'm not used to seeing you in brown. It looks very pretty on you." No smile manifests on his face, instead a wide eyed look that signified that his entire focus was on you, but you still felt the sincerity behind his compliment. But "pretty" and "beautiful" still rang through your head like the most annoying bells ever. The only words that he used to describe how you looked in the skin tight brown bodysuit.

"Thank you, Charlie." You lift yourself up a bit on your tip toes to give Charles a peck on the lips, which he had a delayed reaction to, puckering when your lips had already made contact with his, like his mind was somewhere else. That was further obvious when he stayed stand there, squinting at you, running his "Yn's been acting different" list through his brain. "We should get going..."

"Oh! Yes! Sorry, mon ange. Let's go." He jolted out of his trance, suddenly back in the present where he had to start getting mentally ready for a singular practice session before going into qualifying. And there you were, following close behind, grabbing Charles hand that had reached out for you like a heat-seeking missile.

__________

You decide, for the practice session at least, that you were going to sit up in as private of an area of the Paddock Club you could find. You didn't have the energy to hear anymore "You look different but still cute!" compliments. You knew they all meant well, and they were all only mildly annoying. Kika said it in excitement, asking where you got the jumpsuit from. Daniel came up to give you hug, telling you that you looked "really cute today." Lewis' complimented your outfit, but he also asked how you were doing, dipping his head so he could look you in the eyes as you confirmed that you were fine.

In a normal situation, you would've loved this amount of attention, but when your mind has been flipping through painful past memories where people doubted anything you did and told you that you wouldn't get anywhere dressing the way you did, the last thing you wanted to hear was anyone else saying that you "still looked cute". Yes, you were fully aware that you got to this point in your life, viral video, and thriving YouTube channel and the hottest, most supportive boyfriend on the planet by embracing this aesthetic that allowed you to essentially just be truly and unapologetically you, but what if that cup was running out? What if people were initially pulled in because of the aesthetic, but expected you to change eventually? What if that was what Charles was thinking?

You had already found an empty table in an unfounded corner of the large open room, a large white wall with a TV screen on it, partitioning you from the rest of the room, giving you the moment of soliace you needed. You even briefly closed you eyes to take a deep breath and ground yourself, and it was working until you heard heels clicking toward you. The quiet attempt at retreating is what finally made you open your eyes.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I saw you and was about to come say hi, but then I saw you trying to...meditate or something..." It was Lily.

"You can sit, you know..." You giggle at the fact that she was still standing, but your small smile falls a bit when you see her eyes moving around your appearance.

"Oh, yeah. I like the look, by the way. It's-" You interrupt her words by with a quick "stop" hand gesture that seemed to stop her words and her motions, making her freeze mid-sit.

"If you say 'cute', I am going to rip every piece of hair that I have in this claw clip out." The look you gave Lily made her hesitantly finish sitting, and rethink her compliment.

"You look...nice. Good. Great. Am I getting close?" She places a comforting hand on your shoulder, rubbing gently when you let your head fall onto the back of your hands on the table.

"You're fine. These past few weeks have been...a lot." Lily's hand doesn't move, even when you lift your head enough to turn and look at her.

"What? Your video?" You listlessly lift the rest of your body up from the table and turn to her, not making eye contact and instead messing with your nails, the only part of your outfit that actually fully expressed you.

"Yeah, technically. I never expected it to do that well, but there have been comments..." You look out the window in front you when you hear the approaching cars and let your eyes try too hard to track each car that goes by.

"All I have seen were rave reviews about your outfits and how in love Charles is with you." Her hand is finally removed from your person after her comment, reaching in her clutch that was placed on the table and pulling out her phone.

"Yeah. I guess those are the majority, but there have been other ones...meaner ones..." You trail off into your own thoughts while more cars roared by, continuing to speak when you have the prolonged feeling of Lily's eyes on you, waiting to see where you were going with it. "Lily, how often does Alex say you look sexy in something?"

"I-uh-woah. You caught me off guard there, um..." She stopped to seriously consider your question. "I guess kinda often. Mainly when he can tell I'm excited about an outfit or it's, like, a special occasion. Why?"

"Charles has only ever said I was "cute". Or "pretty". Or "beautiful". Never sexy. Not even if I try to lead him into saying it." You turn around for a moment to check where Charles stood on the practice session leaderboard and how much time was left. "I honestly have no idea if Charles thinks I'm sexy."

"Oh, honey. I'm sure he does." Her fingernails went to caressing up and down your back as she turned all of her focus towards you while Alex goes 3rd fastest.

"A boyfriend that finds his girlfriend sexy would want to, like, fuck her 24/7, right?" You whispered the obscenity as to not attract unwanted attention, but you still asked the question in search of some well needed validation.

"I mean, in theory, I guess. But everyone's relationship is different." She continues to move her hand over your back and you push some of the longer hair from your bangs out of your face.

"Lily, we've been dating for almost a year now, and we've never actually...done it." It felt almost embarrassing to admit it. Everyone talks about how in love you and Charles are but you two have yet to take that step to show your intimate devotion to each other, sans the other things you guys have done you guys have done.

"Maybe he just doesn't feel like it has been the right time. He must have his reasons." You appreciated Lily's optimism.

"Like I'm just too cute to fuck. He doesn't want to defile me." This was the first joke you've made about the situation, and laughing about it felt so good. But you still needed answers, and your question just gave you some direction. "Maybe that's it. What could I wear to make Charles think I'm sexy enough to fuck?"

"I didn't expect to have this conversation when I woke up today. Um...something you can wear?" She took a moment to think and you could see the light bulb in her head switch on. "Lingerie! That's literally 'being sexy 101'. Something hot and lacey. And probably in a darker color, really lay it in thick. He's already obsessed with you, that'll make sure he can't keep his hands off of you."

"Lily, you genius!" You exclaimed, catching her off guard again, this time by throwing your arms around her neck and giving her a couple of light, glossy pecks to the cheek.

"Anything to help." You were already typing away at your phone, nearly vibrating with excitement, imagining Charles reaction. Another round of car roaring traveled by, but the speed of those machines had nothing on that of your scrolling thumbs.

___________

You stood in the overwhelming yet soothing pink of your filming room, admiring yourself in your new lingerie set. Well trying to. It looked really good on you but you couldn't wrap your head around how there aren't more complaints about how itchy the lace is.

"Well, Yn, when the point is to have it taken off of you, the comfort of the fabric doesn't matter, does it?" You chastise yourself, checking out the back one last time, squirming from the uncomfortable g-string underwear. "Okay, let's do this." You take a deep breath and shake out any last minute jitters before calling out to your boyfriend. "Charlie, could you come here?"

"Coming, mon ange." His voice was far off in the distance, but it still made your heart jump up into your mouth and then travel down into your stomach. You look at yourself in the mirror again, trying to ground yourself, but then you heard his footsteps and you gave up on calming yourself down. This was a special moment, nerves are normal and should be expected. "What's up...oh my..."

You were trapped under Charles' stare. Wide eyed, his tongue darting out to usher his bottom lips into his mouth. But then his eyebrows scrunched together and his jaw shifted, so you had to speak to break the nerve racking tension. "You like it?" You wanted to be a bit sexier, but in preparation for this, you only put effort into finding the lingerie. Acting sexy was still foreign to you.

"Uh, yeah. You-you look beautiful, Mon amour. You look beautiful in everything." He walks towards you, eyes dancing over your figure as he reaches for your hands to pull you into him but moving his hands to the sides of your face when you wrap your arms around his torso.

"Just beautiful?" You voice was high trying to coax the right words from him.

"You look absolutely amazing, Mon ange. It's just, you seem uncomfortable." You twist your head like a confuse me puppy. Yeah, you were uncomfortable, but comfort wasn't the point.

"I just wanted to try something different. For you." You unwrap your arms from his waist and rub them up and down his chest.

"Oh, you didn't have to do this for me. I adore you in the cute little underwears you normally wear." That was a last straw for you. That word has been the bane of your existence for the past three weeks. To the point where you haven't even wanted to be around your stuff, which made you even more stressed. You haven't been around your comfort items or felt comfortable enough to film again, so this was you last chance at trying to feel like yourself again and it was blown by a singular word.

"'Cute'. Is that all you can fucking say about me. That I'm cute?" You had pulled away from Charles and placed your hands on your hips.

"Mon amour, I don't understand. Why are you angry?" Truthfully he wishes he was still holding you. He liked to feel your skins under his fingertips. But he instead crosses his arms, watching you pace angrily around the room. His brain couldn't think straight as he watches different parts of your body bounce as you walked.

"Well let's see? The word 'sexy' apparently isn't a part of your vocabulary when it comes to me. Because you refuse to fuck me." You counted out your grievances on your fingers, adjusting the itchy ass bra you had on that pissed you off even more.

"Amour, we definitely have-" Charles attempts to employ a calming tone to try and diffuse your anger, but it was a futile effort.

"Charles, your tongue and fingers do not count." The death glare you gave would've been enough to scare him off in a normal situation, but your temper tantrum was making him just as mad as you already were. "I even had the bright idea that maybe if I acted and dressed like Alex, or Charlotte, or even fucking Giada, that you would maybe want to fuck me. Boy was I wrong!"

"Okay, stop!" And you did. Stopped in your tracks. You turn to face Charles, arms crossed so your boobs were further smashed together in your lacey bra. "I don't know why you keep talking about my exes, but that is going to stop. There is absolutely nothing about them that made me more attracted to them or made me want to...fuck them more than you." It was his turn now to pace in frustration. His hands run through his hair as he tries to block the visual of you in your skimpy lingerie from running through his mind. "You want the truth, Mon amour? I think about fucking you all the time. I think about the noises you'd make, and how cute-yes, cute- you'd look while I fuck you senseless. When you look really cute, like when you have that little pink ribbon in your hair, I think about how you'd look with my cock in your mouth, your pretty eyes looking up at me. Your perfect makeup ruined because of me."

"Wait, so all this 'cute' stuff is just your way of saying you think I'm sexy?" You still had your arms crossed but you were looking up at him innocently, now feeling a bit guilty about being so frustrated with him for the past few weeks.

"Oui, Mon ange. Exactly." He takes a couple of slow steps to walk across the room to you, placing his large hands on the sides of your hair, bring your forehead to him for a kiss. "I think you are extremely sexy. Cute just fits you better. And it doesn't mean that I want to fuck you any less. Now, let's get you out of that and into something you can be more comfortable in..." There's a chuckle in his words as he tries to guide you to your wardrobe, but you don't budge. He should've stopped while he was ahead.

"Wait, no. First, I'm not taking this off. Second, if how I dress hasn't stopped you, than why haven't we fucked?" You take a step back, stopping and standing with your hip flared out and your head defiantly cocked to the side.

"You know what? If that's what you want, fine. Fine! Putain de morveux." He whispered the French to himself as he removed his shirt in a swift smooth motion. Him succumbing to your pleas and attitude was a shock, literally having you frozen in your spot, wide eyed with a small grin growing on your face. "Mon petit ange impatient, you have no idea what you've gotten yourself into." He approaches your frozen frame, almost angrily examining the dark lace fabric that barely covered your body. "This has to come off."

"Oh-Hey wait-!" The rip to the bra made you want to cry, and honestly you had no idea why. You wanted it off. It was fucking itchy.

"Don't cry. I'll get you something just like it, only...cuter." He was obviously taunting you now, a dark glint in his eyes as gave you a devioua grin, daring you to retaliate. But you stay silent, only looking up at him through your eyelashes, eyebrows furrowed. "What? No argument?" One of his hands begin to travel up your stomach to your breast, his rings scrapping over your nipple when his thumb was done running over the nub. Your curiosity reigned supreme as you watched his hand grope you body, and even still you had little warning when his hand rushed up to your neck, lodging right underneath you jaw, applying a small amount of pressure. The location of his hand forced you to look at him, eyes already dazed. "I'm gonna fucking ruin you, Mon ange. That's what you want, huh?" You nod, head still trying to wrap around the mood shift in the room. "Answer me." The pressure on your trachea increases slightly.

"Yes, Daddy." You whine out, the high pitch sounding raspy from the squeeze on your windpipe.

"Non, until you learn how to act, it is Sir. Vous comprenez?" You go to nod, but your neck received a warning squeeze.

"Yes sir!" You quickly corrected yourself, taking deep gulps of air when you're released.

"Bon." He goes back to eyeing you, face blank sans the shifting of his jaw while he thought. "On your knees." Your brows furrow in reaction to the command, initially confused but following directions anyway, slowly falling down to your knees. Charles bends over, capturing you chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilting your face up to look at at him. A grin flashes onto his face and you being to reciprocate the gesture when a his hand applies a stinging slap to your left cheek. "If I tell you to do something, do it immediately. Okay?" The grin stays on his face, unwavering. The fact the he was holding such a calm face after such an offense made your heart race, and unexpectedly sparked a bit of arousal in you, causing you to feel wetness begging to pool between your thighs.

"Yes sir." You sit back into your heels as you answer, eyes still watching his eyes darken, a pout on your face.

"You're a quick learner." His finger gives the bottom of your chin a couple of taps and then one tap on the side as his focus turns to the thin pink ribbon lazily sprawled out on your desk. You head follows his movements as he saunters over to the desk, plucks the ribbon from it, and saunters back over to you, standing behind you. A shiver runs down your spine as his fingers gather up your hair and tie the ribbon as tight as possible around the ponytail he created. "This will be helpful for me and you, Mon ange." His words vibrate through your whole body, his warm breath tickling your ear. When he's done he stands back up and walks back around to stand in front of you, the bends down to run his hands down your triceps to pull your arms out in front of you after previously resting on your lap. He continues on to hook your fingers on the waistband of his sweatpants and his underwear. "Take them off for me, mon amour." Learning from the previous instruction experience, you didn't hesitate with pulling at his pants, brain curious about what will follow. It wouldn't have been the first time you've seen Charles' dick, it just would've been the first time your focus was solely on it, so your excessive eagerness caused a lack of awareness and you were shocked to say the least when it hits you in the face. You flinch away from the appendage initially, but take him in your hand, semi-hard and pink tip glistening with the slightest bit of pre-cum. "You're little face was so adorable just then, mon ange. A little bit larger than you expected?"

He was. You had only seen him in passing. While he was changing or getting out of the shower, and when you did see him he was mostly soft, so seeing him up close, and seeing that as he grew harder from being under your observant gaze he was almost as long as your forearm, it was intimidating. "Yeah. Quite a bit bigger."

"Open your mouth. Stick your tonuge." Your mouth only begins to form the word why when your receive another harsh slap to your face. "Let's try this again. Open your mouth...and stick out your tongue." You do so immediately, looking up at him with a tear rolling down your face from the sting on your cheek that he wipes away with his thumb. "If you want me to fuck you like the little slut you are being, you should know that sluts do what they are told." His thumb continues to gently caress your tingling cheek, but towards the end of his statement he begins to stroke himself slowly, dangerously close to your tongue. "Open a little wider, mon amour." You do as best as you can, your jaw already feeling sore and it hasn't even been a minute.

You try your best to not flinch when Charles guides himself into your mouth, but you didn't have to worry about it because once he felt he was in enough, he brought his right hand down to grab onto you ribboned ponytail to force his cock the rest of the way down your throat. Once your nose hit his pelvis he pulled back on your hair to remove your mouth from him, you making the most obscene gaging noise as he does so. A string of slobber momentarily connects you with the head of his cock before it drops of onto your chin and Charles swears it's the cutest thing he ever saw. "Let's see what your pretty throat can do, mon ange." His dick approaches your mouth again and on instinct you open your mouth, looking up at him as the pushes in, the thick vein that ran down his shaft gliding along your tongue.

The moment his dick hit the back of your throat, more tears began to fall from your eyes, but when you briefly look down, you saw that he still had a bit more of him to stuff down your throat before he reaches the depth he did before. Once he does finish stuffing your mouth, nose at his pelvis again, you rapidly tap at his thighs, making him pull out again. "Yes?" The way he asked way condescending, using the grip he had on your ponytail to make you look up at him. You were quite the sight. Mascara starting to run down your face and your lips and chin glistening from slobber.

"I couldn't breathe." Your whine was raspy and you could stop blinking your eyes as they burned from the mixture of tears and mascara.

"Oh, ma Cherie, focus on breathing through your your nose, okay?" You nod your head and then dutifully reopen your mouth allowing Charles to slide into your mouth again. You do as instructed, trying to focus on breathing through your nose, but soon that became more difficult as he employed his hips in getting his dick down your throat. The sound of your gagging and the sloppy sound of saliva spilling from your mouth with each thrust were a supplemental driving force in bringing him closer to cumming. For you, his grunts and groans, his praises ("You're mouth feels so nice, amour" "You look so cute like this, mon petit ange désordonné."), and the small glimpse you get of your head being forced up and down his cock in your pink framed mirror all did their part in making your pussy so wet that the juices started soaking through the dark fabric of the panties you still had on. You didn't realize that you were zoning out, having to use little brain power as your throat was being used, until he abruptly pulled out, yanking your head to make you look at him again, face more fucked out than before and he hasn't even fucked you properly yet.

"You have no idea how much I wanted to cum down your throat, but I still have to give mon petit ange what she was whining for." He releases your hair and finally steps out of his pants in order to walk over to your pile of stuffed animals. "Ass in the air for me, Mon amour. And here, for your head." He tossed the same Hello Kitty plushie that used to hide his boner during the YouTube video to you and you absentmindedly do as told, enjoying the idea of giving your upper body a break. The way you positioned yourself had you facing the mirror on the closet, so Charles was able to see your tired messy face laying on the plush Sanrio character as he got behind you and pulled the black thong you still had on to the side revealing and sliding his fingers through your already slick folds. You flinch and whimper when the callous pads of his index and middle fingers graze and briefly rub your clit. "Tell me what you want, amour. Use your words."

"Want you to fuck me, sir." You were near falling asleep from the surprising amount of energy that was exerted having your throat used by Charles, but you were still determined to get what you wanted from this entire endeavor.

"Just wanted to check." He removes his fingers from your clit and adds what juices he did gather from you to his cock that was still slick from your mouth. He the line himself up with your entrance that was fully exposed for him and with little to no warning begins to push inside you. He still knew better than to rush it, slowly pushing himself past your folds, but not stopping until he filled you to the hilt. "You're so fucking tight, mon ange. Baise-moi."

"Wait, Charles. You're-I-" He wasn't all the way in when you began talking but once he's finished pushing inside you, you let out the most guttural groan he has ever heard from you. But you still comitted the grave offense of not calling him the right name, so the hard smack you received on your ass brought back the high pitched whine he's heard time and time again. "Sir! Sorry, sir!"

"It's okay, mon amour. I know it was an accident." He has yet to attempt to move, the grip your pussy had on him made him briefly question if it was even possible, but before he tried he bent down as much as he could to get as close to your ear as possible. "I gonna fuck you like the little slut you want to be. Give mon petit ange exactly what she wants." Your ponytail had flared out over you face, so Charles reached to move your hair out of your face before straightening his back again and griping your ass firmly to finally back his hips out and thrust inside you again. You let out similar groans after each slow thrust he gives, whimpering after a while and wiggling your hips a bit to see if you were able to make how full Charles had you feeling more comfortable.

"You feel so deep. I think I feel you in my tummy..." Everything you said came out whiney as you cuddled your head into the plush beneath it. You were completely oblivious to the curiosity you just sparked in your boyfriend, that is until you feel his arm reach across just above your breasts to lift you up so your back was pressed against his chest, now getting the clearest view of yourself being fucked in the pink decorated mirror.

"Let me see." He hitched his hips into you and his eyes couldn't believe what he saw. "Mon amour, look," He moved his right arm underneath your breasts so he could use his left hand to make you look at yourself in the mirror. He pulled out and thrusted into you again and so you could watch as his dick pressed into your stomach, making the bottom of your tummy poke out slightly. "You can see me in your tummy. That is adorable, mon amour!" It was like this sight flipped on another switch in his brain, a switch adjacent to the one that has made him act so cruel. His thrusts became quicker as he reached for your hand to place on top of the disappearing and reappearing bulge. "Keep you hand there amour, I want you to feel how well I'm fucking you."

"Yes, sir." You moan out as best you could, working to make sure your hand doesn't get knocked from it spot. Charles adjusts his arms so that he had a firm grip on you and a hand that could easily reach your clit. Immediately upon beginning to rub, you start to whine and whimper like when you were close to coming when he fingered you or ate you out. In fact, he knew these specific moans meant he would have to brace for a mess.

"Are you gonna cum for me, amour? Make a mess all over your pretty pink room?" His warm breath and thick accent turned your brain to mush, so all you could do to answer was nod, but you felt his grip around you tighten after you do, your only indication that you did something wrong. "Oh, mon ange. If you want to be a good little slut for me, you have wait for me to tell you when to cum. Now you have to wait for me."

You wanted to cry. All the other times he was cruel to you in this fashion it was at least after you got to orgasm a couple times. But denial was an entirely different beast that had tears running down your face as wordless whines erupt from your chest.

"Amour, you feel so good around me. I could fuck you forever. I can't believe I was missing this." You both were in your own worlds, so as he spoke and rambled on about how good it felt to fuck you and how cute and dazed you looked, you brain turned it into white noise, trying hard to focus on the instruction that Charles gave you. You wanted so desperately to be good for him.

"I'm gonna cum, amour. Cum so deep inside you. Make that tummy bulge stay for a while. My first time fucking you and I get to fuck a baby in you." He became progressively less coherent, and surprisingly more french, the closer he got to cumming, and the combination of the warm feeling of cum spurting inside of you and the quick movement of Charles' fingers on your clit that came with his reaction brought you over your prophesized edge, the a mixture of squirt and cum coating your thighs. Charles keeps his firm grip on you as you ride out your shaking orgasm, still coming down from his own high, sprinkling kisses along the side of your neck and whispering praises in both English and French. "You are so perfect for me amour. Mon parfait petit ange."

"I love you, Daddy." You reach back and tangle you fingers in his hair to bring him in for a sloppy kiss, face still messy from the start of the evening.

"I love you too, mon ange. I'll, uh, make more of an effort to tell you you're sexy more often." He maneuvers himself to be able to lift you up into a bridal hold, giving you a small peck on the forehead.

"You don't have to. Cute is just fine. I promise not to be so much of a brat." You wrap your arms around his neck and lean in for a near make out session, giving a few deep kisses that allowed you to tangle your tongue with his.

"I like when you're a little bratty. It is actually very adorable, because you don't do it very well." He chuckles while bracing for a couple of slaps on the chest from you.

"Oh, also, the, uh, baby thing...were you serious?" He began to finally make his way to the bathroom as you inquired about the words he said during his orgasm rambling.

"I guess we'll see, won't we?" This time he stifles his chuckle but doesn't conceal the large grin that grows on his face at your shocked face, kissing the crease between your brows. "Come, mon ange. Let's get you cleaned up."

#formula 1 #black reader #f1 imagines #formula 1 x black!reader #f1 x black!reader #request #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc scenario #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x black!reader #charles leclerc smut #f1 smut #f1 imagine #f1 smau

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welcometomyoasis · 6 months

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Mingyu’s cause of death - you | kim mingyu

🪧 100 event: squishy s/o + mingyu | @weird-bookworm Synopsis: when you're just that squishy, you're way too cute for mingyu to resist Mingyu + gn! reader | fluff | approx. 580 words | no warnings A/n: sky i can tell you really like the squishy s/o scenarios 🤭so i hope you like this one!

Headcanons:

Mingyu’s cause of death - you.

Mingyu thinks you are the cutest thing ever. You’re just so soft and cuddly with the most pinchable, fluffy cheeks. He will coo at you and make grabby hands at you, indicating that he wants to cuddle or pinch you. He can’t help it. Something about your soft, plush, warm body just makes him want to melt into it. When he thinks about cuddling you, it just makes him a big giggly mess.

Please stop squirming and stay still. Just let him wrap his gigantic arms around you. This big baby will not stop whining if you don’t.

Will cling onto you like a baby koala on its mother. At this point I think you just have to wear Mingyu like an oversized backpack.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

It was a rare sight to see you without Mingyu clinging onto you. Your back, your front, your neck, your stomach, whatever part of you, you just name it, and he’s around it. So, to walk into the apartment you shared with Mingyu only to see him pouting and sulking at the corner of the couch while you were in the kitchen was quite a shock to the rest of the seventeen members.

Still shocked, Jeonghan asked, “what did he do this time y/n?”

Looking up with a tired expression, you said, “well Hannie, you see, normally I don’t mind Mingyu clinging onto me, but I was holding a plate with food when he bounded up to me and latched onto my back. I ended up dropping the plate and it made a big mess on the floor. He’s banished from the kitchen and banned from clinging onto me until I can clean this up.”

Looking at you, Mingyu whines, “baby, I can’t help it you know that. When I see how cute and squishy you are, I just need to whoomp you from the back.”

Snickering, Soonyoung says, “yea y/n, you know, Mingyu is always talking about how he can’t wait to go home and cuddle his little squishy dumpling.”

Upon hearing that, the rest of the members burst into laughter. There wasn’t a day when the members didn’t hear/ see things like, “my little dumpling y/n”, “y/n is the best plushie I could ever ask for”. It wasn’t that Mingyu would tell them that, oh no he would be too embarrassed. But they always see him texting you and Mingyu isn’t the softest person in the world when he is on the phone.

Starting to feel bad that the members were teasing Mingyu, you made your way over to him and snuggled into his side. He took it as a hint he was allowed to cuddle you again and immediately buried his face in your neck.

Coughing to get the members’ attention away from Mingyu, you said smugly, “well, it’s not like I don’t enjoy being squished even if I end up suffocating sometimes, I was just worried that he would burn himself or cut himself when cleaning up. Anyway, you guys are going to have to wait for the food delivery. The plate of food I dropped? Yea that was the fried chicken you all specifically requested. Oops.”

As the shock started to set in, the members stilled. Since Mingyu knew you had set aside a portion specially for him, Mingyu smugly looked at their expressions and laughed at their misery.

taglist: @weird-bookworm @wonijinjin @babyleostuff

#welcometomyoasis 100 milestone ♡#caratsland #k-labels #seventeen #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #kim mingyu #mingyu #mingyu fluff #seventeen mingyu #mingyu x reader #mingyu scenarios #mingyu imagines #mingyu fic #shu's archive ✎ᝰ.

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tyuntopia · 9 months

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★ txt and their kisses

pairing : ot5 x fem! reader

genre : fluff, kissing, (me being delusional)

a/n : this was just a quick write for a small idea i hope you guys like it !! also please please please leave asks so i can get ideas ^^

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yeonjun teasing

his hands in your hair, holding you as he quickly kisses you once then backs away to see your lips chase his and repeats this until you grab the back of his neck and kiss him silly

soobin breathy

the feeling of wind blowing off your hair, his lips touch yours, so light, so feathery, so gentle that you feel refreshed as he trails them to your cheeks and leans back giving you the softest smile

beomgyu playful

surprise kisses and quick pecks on your forehead, the tip of your nose, your cheekbones, your temples, the small mole on your cheek, but not your lips yet because you have to earn it by chasing him down

taehyun soft

one hand on your waist, the other on your jaw holding you as if you were the most fragile thing that he could break while he softly trails kisses that make you breathless from your neck to your lips in a way that spreads tingles throughout your body

huening kai messy

he's so excited to see you that he runs to you and grabs your cheeks to press his lips on yours, creating your own world not caring about how you two look because oh my god your lips are so soft and plush and he can do this all day

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pepurika · 1 year

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SAUSAGE PLUSH IS HERE

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saintels · 1 year

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High make out sessions with dealer ellie where everything is soft and slow because the reader is new to weed/drugs and she’s scared and ellie wants to make her feel better

ahhh i think dealer! ellie is one of my favourites. i see a lot of people write stuff similar to this (and i eat it up everytime, i love it).

dealer! ellie x f! reader | warnings: smut, mentions of smoking/marijuana, fingering, soft dom ellie, minor praise kink.

her slender fingers skim the smooth skin of your plush thighs, her feathery touch raising goosebumps in its trail. her kisses are deep, fiery with growing lust and swirling of erotic desire. her hand comes up to cup your cheek as her tongue glides into your mouth, slipping over your own.

she has you laid on your back on her sofa, head propped and secured comfortably by her softest cushions. she cradles your cheek in one of her hands, the other moving to the back of your knee as she pulls your leg to hook around her hip so she can begin to grind her crotch against you.

everything is slow and fuzzy, warmth spreading over your body regardless of your lack of clothes. a thin sheen of sweat beads on your skin, heart racing in your chest as anxiety fills your conscious. ellie’s hand comes up to pass over your dampened baby hairs, her face hidden in your neck as she whispered sweet nothings as her slim fingers collect your sticky arousal on their tips.

“that’s it, baby,” she coos as her fingers slip into you, “breathe through it, angel. good girl.”

her words elicit a soft whimper from your lips, one of your hands clasping the back of her neck where the wisps of her short locks tickle your knuckles. your other hand grips the hard muscles of her biceps, trying your best to ground yourself.

“look at me, babe,” she says, placing a gentle kiss over your eye lids, “focus on me.”

your lashes flutter open to reveal the blown, dilated pupils and bloodshot whites that compliment the gorgeous flush of your warm cheeks. your high just looks so pretty.

“hey, baby,” she smiles down at you, whispers barely heard between the sound of your heart thumping in your ears and the sound of ellie’s fingers squelching with your pearly juices.

“what’re you feeling?” she asks, trained on your eyes to make sure you stay with her, “i know that new strand was a bit intense, shouldn’t have let you take as much.”

you had smoked about two blunts and eaten five gummies when your world became hazy, the walls closing in on you.

“tummy-” you blabber quietly, licking your lips as your mouth goes dry, “feels funny. feel hot, els.”

ellie chuckles, watching your face contort with the weightless euphoria of your release. your eyes become tired as you slouch into the crevice between the seat of the sofa and it’s backing.

ellie brings her fingers to her face, lips wrapping around her digits as she licks off the cloudy liquid coating them.

“yeah,” ellie smirks, brushing the strays from your cheek, “i think we need to take it a whole lot slower next time. hey, princess?”.

request/inbox open now.

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youreallyshouldtalkmore · 1 year

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Genshin Impact Reverse Harem

A.N: I had seen this husbando ranking someone did as if they were in an Ancient Chinese harem. And that sparked something so THIS time, this is a Reverse Harem, SAGAU fanfic!!

Genshin Impact MasterList

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

You had come from different world where the game of Genshin Impact existed. You were also a Husbando collector, or rather you tried to be. As a complete F2P, you did have to budget, so you technically didn’t own all the husbando characters.

But that didn’t mean they didn’t own your heart or that in your heart you considered them yours.

Then you one day, you went to bed, normal as could be. When you next woke up, you were not in your own bed. You were in a plush bed, surrounded by the softest pillows you’d ever known, in silk sheets even (you’d realize this later).

It decidedly was NOT your bed.

But that wasn’t what held your attention at that moment.

“You’re awake!! You’ve finally came to us!”

You had awoken in Teyvat, surrounded by the very husbandos that owned your heart in your world.

“We had been waiting for you!”

You had your own Serenitea Teapot where you lived if you weren’t traveling Teyvat. But if that wasn’t surprising enough, you woke up to discover that the husbandos were, in fact, your very own harem.

The harem is broken into sections. Rank in the harem was largely determined on who your heart connected with most. The higher the rank, the more of a connection you had with that husbando.

And why this one and less of a connection with that one, you may ask?

Who knows?....

1st Husband/Emperor

Zhongli was the one that held the most connection to your heart. It made sense to your way of thinking. He was the first 5 star that you got. The one that you spent all of your time trying to get. He was a rock, both in your party and in your heart. You spent hours listening to his voice:

Why is it that, once you finally get a break, rather than taking a rest, you instead come to me? Is it that you want to hear one of my stories?

He was the first one that you saw when you woke up. Shock was an understatement. You thought maybe this was an elaborate prank and/or that he was very, VERY good at cosplay.

He took your shock in stride, ushering out the others: “You will see her again later, but for now, you must give her some breathing room.”

Your eyes were wide as the group grumbled but filed out, promising to return later when you were feeling better.

Zhongli returned to your side, cupping your cheek. His hand was warm to the touch. You jumped back at first, startled by having a grown man suddenly show such affections.

“My apologies. I should heed my own advice and not rush you.”

It took you a minute (ie several hours before you even felt safe enough to get out of bed much less come downstairs). And it took you several days longer to realize, this was real. You had fallen into Teyvat and you actually had a harem of husbandos.

This was a legit fanfic come to life!!

But you eventually settled in. You spent quite a great deal of time with Zhongli. Listening to his stories in person had a whole other effect. If you weren’t listening to his stories, you could sit quietly with him, drinking tea as you watched nature go by.

Ahh, yes, your 1st husband made your heart quite calm.

2nd Husband/Noble Consort

How long will this require, exactly?

Alhaitham was more surprised than you that, he was ranked so. He preferred not to socialize and not to invite any kind of extra trouble into his life.

Based on my observations, many people inflict trouble upon themselves. Life already has enough hardships — no need to add to them.

You were exactly like this too. You loved that he wasn’t so noisy all the time. Both of you could be found sequestered away, either reading together or doing your own separate things.

But the silence was not oppressive.

Perhaps that’s why he became quite commendable to your company. When you did speak to each other, it was with a purpose. Neither of you liked small talk, and if you both had something to say to the other, then you said it.

But the moment there was nothing to be said, then didn’t. Quite simple.

Sometimes, one of the others would interrupt the silence between the two of you. Your twin glares were enough to freeze a boar. Thankfully, that didn’t happen very much. If either of you were needed, usually Zhongli could interject in a way that did not have him running for the hills.

Although, he was technically head of the Consorts, he rarely interacted with the rest of them unless he needed to.

Alhaitham guessed it wasn’t so bad. He was allowed his own quarters away from the general Consort area, but could usually be found in the library.

On rare occasions you, Alhaitham and Zhongli could be found sharing the silence. And extremely rare times did the voices of Alhaitham and Zhongli carry a conversation that, whose combined voices often had the power to lull you to sleep.

Even if you weren’t sleepy…

Consorts

Most of the husbandos fell into this category

Xiao was technically a consort, but he rarely lived among the consort area either. Even now, he was scared of his karma poisoning those around him. He was scared of poisoning you and generally preferred to maintaining a little bit of distance. However, he still expected you to call if him ran into any trouble.

If you awake to a knife at your throat, if monsters dig their claws into you, if death comes knocking at your door, call out my name. Adeptus Xiao. I will be here when you call.

Most of the time, Xiao still preferred to act as a bodyguard to Zhongli. Not that he needed to, as the man could bring a mountain on someone’s head. But if Zhongli was around, look for a shadow and Xiao would probably be there.

If there was a “leader” among the Consorts, it would be Cyno. He acted as a barometer of justice and would shut down any kind of tomfoolery.

I'm Cyno, General Mahamatra of the Akademiya. It's my duty to uphold the rules, and punish wrongdoing. I will protect you on your journey.

He frequently had to monitor the Concubines, just because there were quite a bit of ruckus in that court. You did not appoint him so, but he took it upon himself. His stern constance was enough to make most come on the correct.

Not that Tighnari or Diluc needed it. They were quite capable of monitoring themselves and acting accordingly. Tighnari managed a garden in your teapot, while Diluc could be found training. If for some reason Cyno’s constance wasn’t enough, with the combined force of Diluc and Cyno, not even the crystal flies would dare to flutter their wings loudly.

Despite being a barometer of justice, Cyno was a big child when he was with you and those he trusted, namely Tighnari. The three of you would play TCG.

Tighnari would blame you for Cyno’s jokes getting worse. Most of the time you laughed, not because the joke was funny but because Cyno was being so serious or more often than not the reactions he gets from those involved, namely Tighnari.

You had to break up friendly fights between Tighnari and Cyno because of that.

Kaeya and Venti were a bit more rambunctious of the Consorts. Both were ecstatic to see you, usually wanting to break out the wine.

Um, only you didn’t like alcohol, just like Diluc.

Kaeya only pouted:

I can't believe that some people actually drink grape juice... If they had a little more patience, they would find that it ferments into the most exquisite wine. Hmph. So unromantic.

Yeah, you found remaining sober to be the height of romance, but whatever. Both you and Diluc could be found drinking grape juice. Sometimes you like to drink Almond Milk, if you wanted to be extra.

Sure, I'll play you another tune, but it'll cost you an apple.

Venti was always bringing delicious apples to share with his Windblume. But you found him to be sneaky because in order to get him to play a tune on his lyre, he would want an apple as the cost. At this point, you were sure, he was doing this on purpose.

But on days, when you felt a little down, he could quietly pull out his lyre and strum a calming tune. Those days, mentions of apples were nowhere to be found.

Most of the problem children were found in the Concubines court, but that didn’t mean that no one else had ever been punished from the Consort court.

Both Kaeya and Venti’s drinking sometimes landed themselves punished, usually resorting to being locked in the Cold Palace for a period of time. There was this time when both of them with Kazuha….

Wait, we are getting ahead of ourselves…

Concubines

You were going to be honest, half of the concubines gave you a headache….. They had the least connection with your heart but wasn’t totally disconnected, landing themselves in this court.

Problem Child #1- Saramouche/Wanderer: His problem was the lack of trust in you. He was 95% attitude on a good day and would eye you as if he was going to betray him. On his bad days, he’s rant and rave about how he is the new god and that you should serve him, and not the other way around.

To be fair, you didn't consider any of your husbandos to in “servitude” to you. No one was bound to do anything they didn't want to. Your hubandos frequently came and went from your Teapot when they got good and ready.

But at those times, Scaramouche could not be reasoned with and usually landed himself in the Cold Palace because of that. However, most of the time Scaramouche didn’t visit as much as the others to begin with, so that might account for why he wasn’t practically living in the Cold Palace by now.

But then he eventually became the Wanderer. As technically a Descender, since you were not of this world, you were the only one that remembered the fact that he was Scaramouche along with the Traveler.

Wanderer wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He unexpectedly softened, but only for a brief moment before he returned to his usual snarky self. As Wanderer, he found himself visiting your Teapot quite a bit more than when he was Scaramouche, which annoyed him to no end. (His words, not yours.)

As Scaramouche he was Concubine status, but perhaps, he would quickly rise to Consort status as Wanderer? Only time would tell.

Problem Child #2- Childe: You admitted he could be charming….when he didn’t flip a switch and suddenly want to fight everyone. This habit of his landed him in the Cold Palace more often than not. You sometimes wondered if it was a way to get your attention.

There was one time he stormed the Consort court, looking for a fight. Cyno gave it to him and threw him in the Cold Palace. You only heard about it after the fact.

At some point you wondered if that was considered a punishment because he would just use that time to train.

Problem Child #3-Itto: You admitted he had a heart, but there were marbles missing from his jar and he had a stubbornness that often landed him in trouble. Once Childe wanted to fight, Itto was easy to goad into fighting him. They were pitting their strength against each other, going all out.

Cyno was not having it!

Itto usually got sent to the Cold Palace as punishment for not learning to stay out of things. But once in the Cold Palace, he’d laugh it off and began training as well.

You weren’t sure if Childe or Itto would ever keep themselves off of punishment at this point.

The good children of the Concubine Court were as follows:

Thoma could cook his way into your heart and frequently cooked for everyone. Ayato impressed you with his grace and brains. Kazuha was soft-spoken, often greeting you with haikus when you saw each other. The three of them barely gave the harem any trouble.

But there was that time that Kaeya and Venti got Kazuha drunk. After getting drunk, Kazhua somehow managed to find you and cling to you just before he fell asleep. Kaeya and Venti were punished with time in the Cold Palace (after they sobered up–they needed to realize they were on punishment) and while you were willing to let Kazhua slid…..

Kazuha would not let himself off the hook. He was so embarrassed by his conduct that he couldn’t look you in the eyes for weeks. He locked his own self up in the Cold Palace to reflect on his mistakes.

But despite the range in personalities, you quite enjoyed spending time with everyone.

You still thought this was a fanfic come to life though…

#genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact fanfic #zhongli x reader #kaeya x reader #cyno x reader #tighnari x reader #althaitham x reader #diluc x reader #venti reader #xiao x reader #sagau

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drawingdroid · 6 months

Text

The Unknown Regions I

A Din Djarin x Fem Plus Size Reader Fic

Summary: You, a soft astrophysicist, meet the hardened Mandalorian in less-than-ideal circumstances.

Warnings: Expect conversations about weight, body dysmorphia and internalised fatphobia that may be triggering, so read at your own discretion; injuries and blood; canon typical violence; reader is AFAB and user she/her pronouns; no use of y/n; smut to come in next chapters; porn with plot; plot with porn; Din Djarin needs a hug and a fuck.

Word count: 2,631

A/N: This is something I’ve started, 100% self-indulgent since I have been feeling bad about some recent body weight gain. It was going to be just some pure filth with heavy body worship but the plot started to have its own life. This will be probably about 3 chapters long, so if you think it may be something you’d enjoy, I’m grateful to have you here!

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It had been a long day and you were finally preparing to go to bed. You decided to pamper yourself a bit since you’d been more stressed than usually. So you took a long, hot shower. It was a luxury there in Tatooine, but one of the perks of your workplace were the good job conditions. Nevertheless, last weeks had been hectic and you had to stay at your office longer than normally. You loved your job, but you also appreciated some work-life balance and you weren’t having it at this moment. And your body was taking a toll too.

When the water went cold, you carefully exited the bathtub. Before wrapping yourself in a towel, you examined your body thoroughly and sighed. You had always fallen on the bigger side, and you liked it. Your curves, your softness, they made you feel sexy. But since you started this job, it was clear you hadn-t been taking care of yourself. The long hours at the observatory meant less sleep, less time to exercise and cook homemade, hearty meals. Not only did you feel more tired, but also it was clear that you had gained weight. You observed carefully the new stretch marks, the plush of your breasts and the tummy roll that wasn’t there before. Your new body. It looked kinda cute, but now your clothes didn’t fit anymore and your full bust spilled in every of your outfits. And the other problem was that you compared yourself with the other girls at work. It always escalated until you would start to feel insecure and your confidence weakened.

You sighed again and finally grabbed the towel, wrapping your hair, and then used another one to dry your body. After applying your lotions and skincare, you chose a beautiful nightie and then finally went to bed to resume reading the holobook you had been reading before on your commute to the observatory. It was important to you to have a comfortable nest where you could feel protected from the outer world, so you had invested in the softest duvet to cover you on Tatooine's cold nights. You were perfectly relaxed, even had a scented candle burning to help you decompress, when a blaster shot made you jump from the mattress .

Your first instinct was to drop to the floor and open the drawer on your nightstand where you hid your own gun. Your father had given it to you when he learnt that you would be transferred to the dangerous desertic planet. More shots, men shouting and a lot of metallic sounds. For the Maker’s sake, this compound was meant to be secure, these things didn’t happen to you anymore. It was very hard for you to achieve being in a stage of life where you felt safe. You were feeling afraid, but also angry. These people had broken into your little bubble and ruined your perfect evening.

The shooting continued and with every shot you flinched, but managed to prepare your blaster to defend yourself in case something happened. Maybe you’d have to accept the idea that there wasn’t anything like “safe” on Tatooine’s surface.

You stayed still and quiet for a while until the sounds ceased. Finally you could breathe, your heart still pounding, and dared to move. When you decided that it was quiet enough to stand up, another sound froze your blood. Your front door. There was someone there. You started trembling. You could call security. The residential complex where most of the observatory workers lived had its own since Tatooine’s law enforcement was…well, non-existent. But after a shooting like this, they’d surely have their hands full. Kriff, what if they had been killed? A shiver ran through your spine. There was a stranger at your door. Maybe they were hurt, or worse. You hadn't heard more noises. But the loud clank against the metal surface had been clear enough.

The decision to not be reckless won, and you called security from your holocom. But as you had expected, no one was responding. A low grunt came from the front door. You inhaled sharply.. They were in pain. What if they were some of your coworkers even?

You convinced yourself to bite the bullet and be brave about it. After the rebellion, you decided to not get involved in more conflicts. You had had enough for a lifetime. But there you were again. Laying against the wall in your nightie with your blaster against your chest.

“Hello?” No response. “Someone there?” Anything.

It felt a bit ridiculous to ask politely to a potential attacker. After stewing over for a while, you were determined to check yourself if there was actually someone at your doorstep. Inhaling sharply, you counted to three for yourself and opened the door at the same time you aimed your blaster with determination.

Another clank.

What the kriff.

You slowly lowered your blaster. There, laying on a puddle of his own blood, there was a huge man covered in armor.

“Hey, are you okay?” What a stupid question, of course he’s not. You started to get nervous. There was a lot of blood there. The stranger then said something but his voice was so weak you couldn’t hear him. Never stopping aiming your blaster towards him, you crouched next to his helmet. He repeated his words.

“My…kid…” Maker, there was a child in the shooting? You looked around yourself frantically, but in the dim light only your own lawn was visible.

“Where is he?”

“They…have taken him…” Something in his strained, modulated voice, broke your heart. You’d always had a soft spot about children.

“We’ll find your son. But you are bleeding out and no one is dying today at my doorstep.” You observed his frame and decided that the best was to drag him inside from his underarms. “I’m gonna get you inside, ok?”

He just hummed groggily and you decided to take that as a yes.

You had spoken too soon about dragging him. He was kriffing heavy and you had to use all your willpower to get him in your house. After one of the greatest physical efforts of your life, you finally laid him on your carpet and then sprinted to the bathroom to bring the med kit. Kneeling next to him, you tried to localize his wounds, but with the dark flight suit, it was almost impossible to know if he was bleeding somewhere. Your hands started shaking over the idea that maybe he was actually going to die on your floor. You grabbed your commlink to call the med center, starting to panic.

“I’m calling the med droid, I can’t help you.” You said to the unconscious man, worry drawing a line between your brows.

“No…droids.” You jumped when his gloved hand grabbed your wrist with surprising strength, but the next moment he was dropping it and looking gone for good. Okay, you weren’t the one to contradict the unknown warrior. Trying a different approach, you decided to guess where his injuries were by touch. Some drenched patches between his armor informed you where his major injuries were, so you cut his flight suit there. No time for undressing him.

The wounds looked like knife stabs after you cleaned them. You pressed both the one in his tight and another under his chest plate, to stop the bleeding and then applied bacta spray. But it wasn’t enough. He was growing colder every second and his heart rate was slowing. He was going to die, you realized.

You looked around you desperately trying to think when an idea came to mind. First, you started your stove as fast as lightning and then you chose your largest knife from the drawer. While anxiously looking at him, you put the knife on the flames and then ran to his side again.

“Sorry, this will probably hurt…” And before the knife became cold, you pressed the flat surface of the tool directly against his skin. The smell wasn’t beautiful and neither were his groans of pain, but at least it looked like he wasn’t waking up. You checked the wound and finally it had stopped bleeding. You cleaned the knife and repeated the process in the other stab. After several times, the tissue looked closed enough and only then you started to disinfect the burnt areas with care. They’ll leave nasty scars, but at least when you put your ear next to the helmet, it looked like he was breathing although shallowly.

It was almost dawn when you decided he was out of danger. Exhausted, you finally were able to remove his armor in order to drag him somewhere more comfortable and dress his wounds. It was hard to find the hidden mechanism, but once you got it you were fast. First you removed his heavy chest plate. Probably he’d breathe better without it, Then you put aside the pauldrons and the vambraces, and finally his side and back plates and ended with his legs.

Removing the sticky flight suit and his undershirt was an ordeal, but when the first of the two suns started to appear in the horizon, you had achieved the first part of your mission and his chest wound was fully dressed. While you were bandaging him you hadn’t noticed, but now under the orange light and having finished your task, you could admire the man you had saved. And maker, what a beautiful creature. His torso was strong while lean. You felt bad for the big scar the burn you would leave on his golden skin.

You resumed with his pants and you tried so hard not to look but you were just human and well, wasn’t he gifted there too. Tending to his thigh wounds you had noticed how thick his legs were, but now just down to his undergarments, you noticed the warrior’s actual strength.

You scolded yourself for lusting over the man who almost died in your carpet and was, probably, a criminal. And also a dad. When every wound was tended, you moved to his helmet. Since it had some kind of seal, you hadn’t lost precious time removing it when you couldn’t find the release button the first try. You trashed around the garment until you found said button, hearing a hiss, and put your hands around the helmet to carefully remove it.

The next thing you know is that you’re laying on your back, the warrior on you while he’s pinning your wrists effectively against the bloody carpet, his thick thighs keeping yours in place. You blinked, incredulously. Wasn’t this man on the verge of death? What the kriff?

“What do you think you’re doing?” His raspy, low baritone made you shiver. You should be scared, but your self-preservation instincts had abandoned you. IOn the surface of the T shaped visor, you could see your reflection. Rosy cheeks and doe eyes for the man that was threatening your life.

“Saving your metal ass.” You sassed, lifting your chin proudly. It looked like he wasn’t fully aware of himself since it took him half a minute to process the situation. He then started to release you slowly, but stil tense in mistrust. The skin where he had been grabbing you now felt cold. You looked at each other for what it felt like an eternity.

“M’ sorry.” He finally apologized sitting on his heels, noticing his bandages for the first time. Then he observed you, now on your elbows, your nightie ruined with his blood and purple eye bags under your beautiful eyes. “Did you do this?”

“The stabbing, no. The healing, yes.” You responded while looking for a comfier position on the floor, still on guard but curiosos about him.

“Thank you.” He said after a long silence. You finally released your breath.

“It's sloppy work, I’m afraid it will scar over ugly. Sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter. Thank you.” He repeated. He now looked disoriented , like a lost child. A 180 cm child. Oh wait.

“You…your child, you said someone took him.” He inhaled sharply and his tan shoulders tensed, your words hitting him like a thousand bricks. Then he tried to stand up but almost fell. You stood up fast enough to hold him before he could hurt himself. “Wait, you lost a lot of blood there.”

“I need to find him.” His voice was strained, like he was about to cry. You put his arm around your shoulders and he let you. It was like all the fight energy from before evaporated the moment you named the kid. The warrior’s skin felt warmer now, thanks to the Maker. You only hoped it didn’t become too warm due to infection. He was still heavy without his armor, and although he was making an effort, helping him lay on the sofa wasn’t easy.

“Look, you lost a ton of blood and have poor cauterized wounds from a random girl. You can’t find anyone in this condition.” You tried to not sound too harsh but the truth was there. “Don’t you have anyone you can call?”

He sat looking so defeated it broke your heart, but he finally nodded.

“That’s great, contact them then while I prepare some breakfast. You should hydrate and eat something.” He fixed his visor on you while you went to your room to change into something that wasn’t bloody and sheer to start with. When you returned, he was apparently speaking with a man. You gave him privacy while preparing some scrambled eggs, broth and fresh fruit, considering if you should call in sick to your job.

“They left you for dead, you have that advantage. They won’t expect you when you strike back .” Said the man in the holo. He was middle-aged and looked elegant. He then he spoke again in a kinder voice. “But you should focus on resting and healing now, Mando. Let us take care of it.”

“Thank you Karga, really.”

“Anything for the little one.” And then he hung up. The warrior put his head between his thighs, looking like the most miserable creature in the world. Your chest ached at the sight.

“Here, have some broth, you should hydrate. And probably have a transfusion too.” You half joked, sitting with the tray next to him. Mando, as you heard the bearded man call him, looked at you as if you were a ghost. You handled the tray to him carefully but he didn’t move at all. The longest and most uncomfortable silence went on until you decided to stand up and went to prepare for work.

“If you need to use the refresher, we have warm water here, not just that sonic excuse of a shower.” You started while sipping from your mug trying to look nonchalant. “I need to head to the observatory now, but you can stay as long as you need. That was such a beating you took.” You looked at the bruises that were forming across the golden skin you were desperately trying not to observe all the time. Both of the suns were up now, and they illuminated his frame beautifully. And the mess of dried blood in your floor and carpet, too.

You sighed. “Ok, I need to leave now, if you need anything…” You scribbled your commlink frequency in a holopad. It was strange how this looked as parting with a one night stand you won’t be seeing again. You had a certainty he wouldn't be there when you returned either.

“Thank you.” He finally acknowledged the tray and then nodded in your direction. Confused, injured and desolate, you felt guilty for leaving him there. But today was important since the planet you had been studying was the closest to Tatooine…You couldn’t miss the opportunity even though it felt so wrong.

“Take care, Mando.” You said before disappearing through the main door in a hurry.

Next chapter

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