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mcondance · 11 months

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come close; hobie brown

getting high and talking about anarchy with some old 90's shit playing is a crazy way to fall for someone. but it happens.

pairing hobie brown x Black!afab!fem! reader

contents lots of weed, different terms for weed (mary jane, cess), talks of killing politicians (y’all r both anarchists so.), masturbation (both you and hobie), making out, fingering, riding, missionary, mating press, creampie, unprotected sex (they're horny man dwbi), dirty talk, cervix kissing, lotsssss of praise, porn with plot (sorry i love plot 🙏🏾)

words 4.7k.. back on my longer fic shit!

warnings reader wears lipgloss, barely proofread so if you see any mistakes pls shoot me an ask!, umm i use the n word once!, i’m also,, not that great at writing his voice yet so.. hope it’s at least sorta accurate :3

extras the form i wrote this in is kinda,, unique igs but it flows rlly well i feel.

song shoutouts special thanks to lipstick lover by janelle monae, come close by common and mary j. blige, and green eyes by erykah badu!

signing off happy father’s day to hobie 🫶🏾

—

not quite plug!hobie, but hobie who always has weed, who you smoke with the first time you buy from him.

you usually don’t smoke with randoms, but you hear some old 90's rap playing from inside his car, and he invites you in when you comment on it.

"what you know bout this?" you ask with a smile.

"a lot, actually. you wanna smoke and listen?"

not quite plug!hobie who's fine as fuck as he sits opposite you in his ride, tall and darkskin with cool ass hair. wild ass accent and even wilder style, but he makes it work. his music taste adds on to his overall allure.

but his political views? god. the charm in the shape of a little 'a' surrounded by a circle hanging from his mirror lets you know that he ain't like these other niggas.

he's an anarchist. so far, you're the only anarchist you know. it's so rare to find someone who has the same values as you.

not quite plug!hobie who's car you leave with music recs clumsily typed into your notes, and someone to talk about politics with, though you're too shy to text the pretty boy with the good weed, so you're sure it'll never happen.

not quite plug!hobie who texts you when you get home to make sure you arrived safely.

"driving while high ain't safe, ya know? you at home?"

"i've done it before. i made it home."

not quite plug!hobie who's so nice to you, complimenting your outfits and hair, even noticing when you meet him the 3rd time with a new style.

not quite plug! hobie who you find out has been giving you discounts when your friends ask if you ever bought from him after their recommendation, and you run them in on the details. you think it’s just cause y’all smoked the first time you ever bought from him and you bonded over political views and music. you don’t think nothing else of it.

not quite plug!hobie who you find yourself thinking about more and more often, ever since that first time y'all smoked together.

not quite plug!hobie who finds himself in the same predicament.

not quite plug!hobie who answers the door on your 6th buy in a pair of red sweats and a tight white t-shirt that hugs his lanky frame, hair tied up with a blue shoe string. he invites you into his crib, citing reasons of having no one else to talk to about his views with. after all, it's the first time you both have time to sit and talk and listen to music instead of a quick deal since that first time.

not quite plug!hobie who you get faded as fuck with, this time sharing a joint on his janky couch, heavy hands brushing against each other with each pass. he tries to ignore the aching in his very core every time you speak your mind, your aligning politics driving him crazy.

you mirror him, shaking off the.. arousal?.. no, it can't be. you can't be getting all heated just cause a man is an anarchist. whatever. just ignore it.

not quite plug!hobie who laughs when you tell him straight up, “people aren’t killing politicians anymore. that’s our fuckin’ problem.”

"really? you're wild. but i get it."

"course you do." you nod, taking another drag of the joint. erykah badu's "green eyes" is playing quietly in the background of your convo. hobie starts laughing.

"what?" you smile.

"song's called green eyes, right? well we got red eyes." it's corny and wouldn't be funny if you two weren't high as shit, but you are high as shit, so it's fucking hilarious.

not quite plug!hobie who's eyes linger on you as he pulls laugh after laugh out of your chest with his snarky little jokes.

not quite plug!hobie who walks you to your car after your smoke session, telling you to get home safely. he passes out after his head hits the bed, that after smoke sleep being some of the best he's ever had. he tries to chase you out of his mind as he succumbs to the cess.

not quite plug!hobie who lights a joint and then pulls his dick out the next day, hard and heavy, and strokes it thinking about his pretty little client— friend? whatever — hips stuttering as he wraps his hand around his thick base. he's tried to shake you off, went all day distracting himself with this and that, but it's not working.

not quite plug!hobie who cums in white spurts splattering on his chest to the thought of making you cum in a room filled with smoke, some old r&b playin as he dicks you down the way he's been wanting to since the first time your pretty ass came to him asking for some weed. he wants you bent over on the end of his bed, eyes low and red while he fills you up and fucks you good, gives you his dick like he feels you so rightfully deserve.

not quite plug!hobie who you seriously can't stop thinking of. last night's smoke session has you on edge, so you light another joint, but weed always gets you horny, so when you slip your fingers into your panties and touch yourself to the thought of the pretty darkskin boy with the piercings and cool hair pushing his fat cock into your pretty hole, you blame it on the mary jane sitting pretty in your veins.

the fault lies in the mary jane for making you think about him laid on top of you, talking you through it as he damn near kisses your cervix, his wiry hands roaming your body. the fault lies in the mary jane for having your legs shaking, imagining your pretty plug folding you in half and ruining you, leaving you and your cunt sore and satisfied and dripping his cum.

not quite plug!hobie who cleans up while telling himself that he can't do this again, that you're not interested in him.

not quite plug!hobie who you block out of your mind as you shower. what you did wasn't right. it won't happen again.

not quite plug!hobie who you don’t buy from for a minute, cause you’re trying to stop smoking so much, for a while. you still keep in contact with him, though. daily texts, funny memes, and of course talks of anarchy. one day, you call him “bee” instead of hobie, and it sticks. he likes it.

not quite plug!hobie… who you fuck yourself to again, this time slipping three fingers inside your greedy cunt to satiate the need for him. it’s almost every night, and it’s a different fantasy every time.

in the backseat of his car, bent over on his counter, pressed into his couch cushions. your head pressing into your pillows while visions of hobie’s lips pressed to your ear praising you endlessly for being his good girl and taking him so well torment you. you’re insatiable, but when you text you have to pretend like you don’t want his piercing scraping against your clit as he eats you like a man starved.

not quite plug!hobie who has the same dilemma as you.. he can’t even go a couple of hours without growing hard in his sweats, glimpses of you spread out on his bed with your thighs thrown over his shoulders, or you face down ass up, sobbing in pure ecstasy. it’s not made better by y’all’s constant texting, more and more of your personality being revealed to him each day.

you both share one brain, really. and that one brain finds each other attractive, of course, but it’s not just that. it’s not just pure lust. you two have more in common than anyone you’ve ever met, and that sinks ache and want so deep into you that every night and day is spent trying to rid yourselves of it.

not quite plug!hobie who you buy from again almost two weeks later, two weeks that were filled with funny conversations and deep discussions of politics through text. two weeks that solidify the growing feelings you have for each other. this time, he’s wearing a pair of blue sweats and a tight black tee, and his hair is tied up just like the first time you came to his house. this time, brandy’s playing throughout his crib.

you’ve only known each other for about two months, but it feels like longer, for the both of you. you take your seat on the couch as he grabs his stash and his papers, pulling out one paper to roll up.

not quite plug!hobie who sits a little bit closer than he did last time. he smells good. your head is swimming already.

not quite plug!hobie who lights up and then lets you take the first hit, watching you wrap your glossy lips around the joint like he doesn’t wish they were wrapped around his dick instead. you pass the joint to him and settle onto the couch, raking your eyes over his lanky frame, and what you swear is a hard-on. no way. it has to be the weed.

he settles back onto the couch too, extending his long arms on the back. his arm comes up behind your head, and you rest your head on it, smiling dopily when he directs his hazy gaze your way. his playlist must have ended. you're left with him and your thoughts.

“you’re funny, you know?” he says through a breath of smoke, passing the joint to you.

“yeah?” you reply, hitting it again. “everyone tells me i’m just corny.”

“you’re not corny. you’re pretty hilarious, if i’m bein’ honest.”

and there it is again.

not quite plug!hobie whose words light that fire in you again, the fire that you’ve been dousing every night for the past two fucking weeks. fuck, not here. not now. you grab the joint from him in an attempt to push more weed into your system to flush him out, but you meet his pretty fuckin’ brown eyes and they’re low and his lips looks so good and he smells so good and suddenly you’re asking not quite plug who you’re two seconds away from fucking!hobie why he’s been charging you less than everyone else who buys from him and why he invited you into his car and into his house, twice.

and not quite plug who really wants to kiss you right now!hobie can’t even joke and twist his way out of this one. he’s tired of cumming alone to the thought of you. the worst you can do is leave. but the best? god, so many things.

“'s cause i think you’re pretty. n' i really wanna kiss you right now.”

“then do it.”

not quite plug!hobie who tastes like weed and chocolate. the hand that was resting on the back of the couch finds it’s way to the small of your back, fingers drawing nonsensical shapes into it. your hands find his knee and his neck as you press your lips into his. you slide closer to him, and then he’s using the hand resting on your back to push you into his lap, hands settling on your hips as you settle above him, your hands circling around his neck.

“how long?” you ask between kisses.

“since the day you walked up to my car.” he responds quietly, cheeks heating up with embarrassment. he’s quick to trap your lips again.

god, he is hard. and he’s big, you can feel him pressing against the inside of your thigh. you hold your tongue, figuring you could deal with that later. right now, you just need to get out what you’ve been keeping in since the day you two met and you spotted the little ‘a’ hanging from his mirror.

the kiss grows deeper and he grows a little less shy, starting to use his hands gripping your waist to grind you against him. heat floods you when you realize that he's pulling you onto his cock, pressing your cunt against him, separated by the fabric of his sweats and your shorts.

you find his rhythm, falling into the pattern of his soft pushes and presses, a gentle lull of bodies moving against each other that makes you even more comfortable than you already are. soft little groans escaping the both of you, mixing with the smoke and infatuation in the air.

he lets you move the way you want, lithe fingers tracing up your back, hovering over where your hair falls onto your neck. he keeps kissing you for a minute, seemingly frozen. but then he's pulling away to speak, "can i- can i touch your hair?"

you stop moving with a smile. you nod. "yeah. thanks for asking." you kiss him again.

"course, love." he nods, and then he kisses you again. his long fingers snake into your hair, gently and softly. he strokes his hands through your locks, in time with your kisses and the movements of your hips that have started again. hands migrating from his neck, sliding down his chest, laying flat-palmed. your fingers slide under his tee, curling and gripping to pull him ever closer to you.

not quite plug!hobie who could kiss you forever. you could too, but you want more. you need him. so you pull away just a little, murmur "can feel you against me." chills rack through him at your words.

"i know. 'm so hard, darlin'." he pushes his hips up just a little, drawing a muffled whine from you.

"been wantin' you so bad.." you trail off. hobie takes it upon himself to move his hands from your hair to the waistband of your shorts, eyes fixed on yours, watching your every move. you nod, giving him permission to snake his fingers into your shorts, fingers that are met with no resistance.

"no panties? did'ya plan this, doll?" he smiles, slim fingers exploring your wetness, doing what he can with the limited space.

"mhm." you shake your head. "'s more comfortable." he hums in agreement. he circles your clit with his middle finger, dipping towards your entrance to collect more slick. you push down against his fingers, causing him to have to crane his wrist to reach you.

"can we take these off? can't touch you the way i wanna." you blush, averting your eyes to focus on the hand that disappears into your shorts.

"yeah." you breathe shakily, standing up and letting hobie pull them down your legs, hands on his shoulders as balance. your shirt is long, and it falls down to give you some modesty. hobie throws your shorts somewhere behind you before he leans back, giving you space to sit back down.

he looks so fucking good, brown eyes staring at you like you hung the stars in the sky. he reaches out for you, pulling you back into his lap by your hips. his hand disappears under your shirt while his lips find yours again, exploring you more freely this time.

"so wet, doll." he murmurs between one kiss and another, smiling when you whine. his fingers move at different speeds, pressing in different areas and circling at different speeds until he finds a combination that makes you jolt against him, whining "bee."

"thaaaaat's it, love." this time, you don't return your lips to his, instead tucking your head into his neck as you hump shamelessly against his hand, his cock pressing hard and heavy against your thigh. "keep going, baby," he urges, "show me how it feels."

and you do. you shiver and shake and whine and groan in pleasure, pressing kisses in his brown skin as he touches you the way he touched himself thinking about.

not quite plug!hobie who presses his thumb into your clit, sliding his hand farther down to tease your drooling hole. "'s wet, love. g'na feel so good 'round me." you moan loudly at that, at the thought of your fantasies coming true. you cant your hips down, sliding down his fingers until they're seated inside you, stroking gently at your sensitive walls.

pulling them out softly, he curls his fingers, twisting his wrist as you whine and mouth at his neck. "'s okay. you can bite." he nods, catching onto what you were holding yourself back from. you still don't, resign to licking and sucking instead.

until his fingers catch the spongy spot inside you, and your teeth are sinking into the column. "fuck," you damn near shout, pushing yourself onto his hand. he groans in response, pleased to be pleasing you and indulging in the pain you inflict on him. thumb on your clit and fingers playing with that spot, he brings his other hand from your hip to your hair to soothe you, to ground you.

it's sweet, really, his hand in your hair while the other one touches you the way you've been dreaming of. coos and hums meet your ears, soft sounds of affirmation egging you on to let yourself get lost in the pleasure he delivers you. arousal steadily dripping out of your hole, hobie's fingers sliding easier and easier inside you until he can pull out and slip right back in.

"you're so pretty, dove, fuckin' dreamgirl." he murmurs, staring down at your pretty face, arched eyebrows turned down in ecstasy, lips parted. the praise takes you closer and closer to the edge, his deep voice reverberating throughout your entire being, the pangs of arousal in your clit growing harder and faster. you're close.

you're so goddamn close to cumming for a boy you just wanted to buy from. his long fingers reach deep, deeper than you could ever even dream of. “hobie- i- i’m g’na-” you stutter against his neck, hips stuttering against his fingers.

“‘s okay, love, cum. i’m right here.” the rubber band snaps, and you're tightening your thighs around his hand while you shake and shiver, eyes closed tight with soft whines of "hobie, god it feels so good" tumbling from your lips. you tighten around his fingers, too, squeeze him so tight he winces, cause he just knows you're gonna feel so good wrapped around him. he pushes that thought away, though, focused on helping you ride out your orgasm.

fingers pressing into your clit and that spot inside you, he makes sure to milk every last second of your climax, eyes fixed on your ethereal features. aftershocks still racking through you, you finally open your eyes, and he takes it as a sign to gently pull his fingers out of you and wipe them on his sweats, and you shudder at the feeling.

"that was. . so much better than i imagined. n' i imagined it being pretty good." you smile and giggle, placing a kiss on his neck. he laughs in response, raising his eyebrows at your confession.

"bet i'm a better fuck than you imagined, too." the air in the room shifts again, and suddenly you're aware of his cock pressed against your thigh through his sweats again.

"bet you are."

you raise up, kissing him again as your hands find the waistband of his sweats and invite themselves in, meeting his dick that's been hard since you first sat down on his couch. "and i'm the one who planned this? you're free-balling." you murmur against his lips, and he mirrors your words from earlier.

"'s more comfortable, 's all— fuck." he's cut off when you pull his cock out of his sweats and run your finger over his pretty brown tip, dipping into his slit. his hips thrust up, chasing your soft hand. "g'na drive me crazy." he almost whines, jerking against you when you swipe your thumb against his aching tip again.

"just returnin' the favor." you shoot back, raising up to hover over him, swiping his leaking dick through your wetness. he wraps his hand around his thick base, moving in time with your teasing strokes. "you're big." you groan, hesitating to seat yourself on him.

"i know, doll, you can take it though. we'll make you take it." he speaks into your clothed chest, muffled and horny, and you’re sure he means what he says. you drip even more at his words, sticky slick wetting his fat tip.

not quite plug!hobie whose hands are on your hips as you sink down onto his pretty dick, whining into his neck as he encourages you. “you got it, baby, you’re takin’ me so well. god, she’s so wet.”

"she— fuck that's so hot," you moan, eyes rolling back at his words.

"mhm?" he hums.

you don't respond, too busy focusing on his fat cock pushing into you, focusing on the way you both make it fit, exactly like he said you would. finally, he bottoms out, your thighs resting against his sweats.

"g' job, babe. knew you could take me." you jolt against him, his heady words sending another pang of arousal straight to where you two meet.

not quite!plug hobie who you tell to move, raising your hips up as he pulls out, meeting him in the middle as he fills you back up. his hips slot against yours again, and his big chocolate eyes are fixed on yours, gazing upon you in adoration, while your eyes are fixed on where he disappears into you.

"so big, feels s'good. ." you whisper, meeting his gaze. the look in his eyes has chills running down your spine as you raise your hips again, choosing to connect your lips with his again. hobie starts to find a rhythm, now, wrapping his long arms around your waist. you swap spit with him as his hips meet your ass, taking over.

body bouncing with each of his thrusts into your pussy, arms wrapped around his neck. his lips slipping against yours, plump and wet. you both take it slow, basking in the feeling of finally being like this with someone you've wanted since you first saw them.

he fills you up so nicely, thick cock nestled in your achy walls, leaking tip just barely kissing your cervix as he thrusts just a bit harder and you push down a little more.

"y'feel me, darlin? 'm all the way in, at the end of you, god, 'm g'na make you mine." he babbles in pleasure, pushing his hips up even harder. still soft, but firm, and deliberate.

you nod against his lips, hand resting on his cheek. "feel you, bee, feel you in my fuckin' stomach, i swear." you feed off of him and he feeds off of you, kissing and slapping your hips against the others, wild and wanting. "fuckin' me so good, bee, makin' me yours."

"makin' me yours, doll, pussy's squeezin' me like she don't w'na let go."

"don't wanna let go, wan' you so bad." you confess, bringing your ass down onto his cock again. "i— fuck," you sob. his cock curves just right, and with his tip pressing against your spot now, hobie's found new determination.

"that it?" he asks, making sure to keep hitting that spongy patch of skin with every thrust, sheathing his cock in your wet heat.

"'s it, hobie, feels so good, shit." the high has worn off by now, leaving pure emotions and desire driving you two. you get tight around him again, cunt pulsing with every slam of his hips against yours. you feel so good around him, so tight and wet.

"'m g'na—, you're gonna make me cum, bee."

he moves one hand from around your waist at that, sliding between you two to toy with your clit, thumb rubbing wild shapes against the throbbing bud.

"fuck," you cry, grinding against his thumb and down onto his dick.

"you close again, doll? wan' you to wet me up, ma'me a mess," he encourages, big brown eyes fixed on yours like they've been the whole night.

"'m so close, bee, wanna cum for you, wanna wet you up."

"then do it." he mirrors your words from earlier, and the pleasure pulsing through your veins and infatuation swirling around in your blood gets to be too much, and you cum on his cock, still slamming your hips down onto him, meeting his thrusts in the middle. "thaaaat's it, doll." you hear hobie praise through the fog in your mind, bounces turned to messy grinds as you get all tight around him, cumming hard.

"y'alright, love?" he asks, moving your hair out of your face.

"mhm. w'na go again, you haven't come yet." he chuckles at your words, wrapping both hands around your waist and kissing you again.

"lay back, love." he murmurs against your lips, flipping you onto the couch. your back meets the smooth fabric as he lays you down, pulling his tee and his sweats off. you follow suit, stripping your shirt off and throwing it somewhere behind his couch. his watchful eyes fall on your face, then your tits, then your cunt, taking your body in for the first time.

he finds his place on top of you, balancing himself on his elbows as he kisses you again. he reaches down, but you stop him. "lemme do it," you urge, replacing his hand. you line him up with your sopping entrance, nodding twice to tell him to push in.

the stretch is so fucking good, his cock bullying it's way into your tight cunt again.

"fuck, that's it," he curses, watching your face as he seats himself in your once again.

"so deep. ." you trail off, looking down at your stomach, and oh fuck, no way.

"hobie, hobes, look," you urge, and he points his gaze to where you're looking.

"oh, love, look at that. can see myself, right there," he presses down on the bulge he creates, ripping a broken moan straight from your throat.

"fuck me, please," you sob, squirming under him. he nods, understanding, and finds his rhythm easier this time, lean hips slapping against you. your body jolts up the couch with every thrust, choppy whines of nonsensical sentences leaving your mouth.

not quite plug who's absolutely pussydrunk!hobie can't get enough of your cunt, the way you squeeze him oh so tight, the wet squelches of your heat drawing him further into madness. he needs to go deeper, needs to fuck you harder, so he raises up, throwing your legs over his shoulders, leaning back down to bury his cock deep inside you.

"baby, fuck." it's a gritted groan, head rolling back onto the couch as he mouths at your neck, licking and biting at your heated skin. his thrusts are slow and firm, dick kissing your cervix, the slaps sounding out through his living room.

you're both quiet this time around, too blissed out to do anything but fuck, allowing yourselves to succumb to pleasure. every inch of his cock fills you, driving you crazy, driving him crazy too. it's intimate, his lips on your neck, your fingers palming at his back, limbs tangled together. and you can feel it building up in you again.

"'m g'na cum, hobes." he moves one of his arms, bringing his thumb down to rub at your clit, still mouthing at your neck. he lets it happen this time, doesn't urge you or change anything he's doing, and you coast into your climax so gratifyingly that you almost cry, squeezing him tight once again. now, your focus is on making him cum.

"wan' you to cum, hobes."

"gotta pull out, love. we ain' even put a rubber on." he realizes.

"no you don't. 'm clean. jus' fill me up, please." in your right mind, you wouldn't let him, but you're not in your right mind, and neither is he. so he cums with a groan, shaking as he spills pressed against your cervix.

the air's.. different now, satisfied and calm. you both lay there for a while, until hobie's picking you up and carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up.

after, he lights another joint that you two share tucked under his covers, hugged up like a couple.

not quite plug!hobie holds you as you both fall asleep.

#hobie brown smut #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x black reader #hobie smut #hobie x black reader #hobie x reader #tw weed #ummmm yeah that happened #hope y'all like it #wrote most of this today :3 #OKAY TIME 2 POST

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grandline-fics · 7 months

Text

Green Eyes, Red Lips

DESCRIPTION: When jealousy leads to a confession

WARNINGS: swearing, some suggestive themes(maybe?)

CHARACTERS: Zoro

WORDS: 1,386

A/N: I really liked how this came out so I might do this as a series with other characters. Feel free to request any you’d like to see.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

“Shit, Marines!” Usopp hissed with worry. Zoro lazily slid his good eye open to spy the two uniformed men walking down the street. It wouldn’t take long for their presence to be known and that would mean a fight. His hand dropped to rest over the hilts of his swords in preparation but frowned when his crew-mate’s hand griped his shoulder tightly. “We promised Nami! No attention, we’re only here for supplies, not fights.” The sniper reminded him sharply. Zoro clicked his tongue in annoyance and kept his eye on the marines as they stopped to briefly talk to one of the locals. It seemed they were just on a routine patrol, that was good. If they weren’t actively looking for them it gave them more time.

You poked your head out from the doorway and followed Usopp and Zoro’s stares. Your mood soured to see the Marines, you and Nami were hoping to actually enjoy a relaxed shopping day on this island before having to set off. Oh well, at least the others were almost done. A movement caught your eye and you scowled to see Zoro’s fingers twitching against his swords. He was hoping the Marine’s noticed them and from the burning glare he was sending their way it was clear he wanted a fight and damn the promise he’d made when he left the Sunny that afternoon. Roughly you slapped his forearm, knowing it wouldn’t actually hurt him but it was enough to make him turn his attention to you.

“Don’t you even think bout it! You’ve been itching for a fight since we left the last island. If you can’t control yourself go back to the Sunny.” Zoro’s behaviour had been pissing you off lately. Normally you didn’t mind his colder attitude if you knew what was wrong but this time there had been no warning. Up until the night before you left the last island things had been good. It was just exhausting having your mood spoiled by him and it was clear you were the one he was taking it out on.

Zoro glared down at you, his jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed so tightly together you thought a vein was about to burst where they met on his forehead. “Well it’ll be a fight either way once they realise it’s us.” he ground out tightly. “Unless you’ve got a better idea? They’re getting closer.” You rolled your eyes at him and strode back into the store, grabbing a pair of sunglasses and hat from their displays. After telling the owner to add it to your crew’s bill you put them on while ignoring the curious stares you were getting from Nami, Franky, and Luffy as they were lifting the crates of supplies into their arms.

Spotting a mirror you reapplied your lipstick and pulled off your jacket, shoving it into Zoro’s chest as you stormed by him and out into the street. “Make yourself useful and hold this.” You instructed and he was half tempted to just let it fall to the ground. But Zoro couldn’t help but grip it tightly as he watched you with practiced apathy. Despite how guarded he was he couldn’t help but push away from the wall when you looked around yourself as you walked and purposely bumped into the two Marines, even making a point to gasp in surprise, whirling to look at the two men. “Oh I’m so sorry!”

“Please don’t apologise!” the shorter of the two men dismissed with a bright smile while he looked you over with interest. “Are you lost?” Zoro ground his teeth together to hear you laugh shyly and play with the end of a lock of your hair.

“Was it that obvious?” You asked stepping closer to the two Marines and pointed behind them, to make them turn. “I’m trying to get to the Fountain Square. Everyone says it’s beautiful at this time of day but I just keep getting turned around.” You explained looping your arms through theirs. “Could you both show me the way?”

“Oh it happens to everyone! Don’t worry you’re in safe hands with us!” the taller Marine promised as he began to walk with you and his companion in the opposite direction. While they rambled, you glanced over your shoulder and gave a single nod to Luffy before you disappeared into the crowd.

“Looks like they’ve got it covered!” Luffy cheered with a unfazed grin. “Let’s get this back to the Sunny, I’m hungry.”

“Zoro?” Zoro stood where he was, barely registering Nami’s call. Everything told him to follow you and make sure you got away from the Marines safely but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything about it or move. If he did it would only admit the feelings he had for you that he’d been trying to kill with his harsh words and cold attitude. “Zoro come on! Don’t tell me you’re lost already. The ship is this way!” Nami called louder. The swordsman bit back a growl and turned on his heel, catching up with the crew and lifted one of the crates from Usopp’s shaking arms. With every step he took, he let his nails dig into the box.

By the time you returned to the ship everything was restocked and you were ready to set sail. As the Sunny pulled from the docks you climbed the crows nest, knowing you’d find Zoro there with your jacket. Only when you saw it had been thrown carelessly over one of the benches you rolled your eyes and grabbed it, ready to go back to your own quarters. You didn’t want to deal with the first mate when the tension rolling off of his body was a hundred times worse than it had been that morning. “Sad to be leaving your boyfriends?” He sneered at you. Angrily you slammed the hatch closed and turned to glare at him.

“Alright what the fuck is wrong with you?” You’d had enough of this and you weren’t leaving until you got to the bottom of this. “Did I offend you in some way? Rip your favourite bandana or something? What have I done that’s so bad for you to look at me like I’m your enemy?”

“Just forget it.”

“No, Zoro. I won’t forget it but do you know what I will do?” You hissed viciously. “I’ll do us both a favour and leave. Unless I get an answer out of you I’ll leave at the next island we get to and never come back because I’m not dealing with this bullshit anymore.”

Faster than you could blink Zoro was in front of you, hands slamming against the wall on either side of your head. Before you could say anything else his lips were on yours; strong, insistent, and overwhelming. Your head was spinning but you managed to regain enough control to return the kiss, hands finding purchase on his broad shoulders, pulling him closer. Hungrily Zoro’s hands slipped to grip your waist and thread into your hair. He couldn’t tell you how he felt but it all came out through his touch and powerful kiss. Finally you broke free and caught your breath enough to manage out a dazed. “Oh…so you don’t hate me then…”

“Definitely not.” You didn’t think that Zoro’s voice could get any lower and you held back a shudder to meet the burning stare that finally made sense. “Hated those assholes cosying up to you though.”

“Two nobody Marines made you jealous?” you asked with a small laugh. You couldn’t help but find it funny, the Demon Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro was capable of jealousy. “They’re far too scrawny to be my type.”

“Not just those runts. That last island-”

“Oh him!” you gasped with a grin, remembering the self proclaimed King that you and the rest of the crew helped save. “I didn’t think anyone heard him propose to me before we left though.”

“He what?!” Zoro growled suddenly making you yelped in surprise as his grip tightened and he pushed you against the wall. His lips claiming yours once more with the intention of wiping that stupid king and any other man from your memory until it was only him on your mind and you were only too eager to let him.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #one piece imagines #one piece fic #one piece fanfiction #one piece scenario #zoro roronoa x you

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undercoverpena · 5 months

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frankie, baby

frankie morales x f!reader | masterlist

summary: “Well… we technically can’t touch each other inappropriately,” you begin, tracing your fingers on his black shirt, circles then squares, then triangles. “But, Will wasn’t specific about saying inappropriate things.”

warnings: explicit. 18+. smut. p in v. nsfw chat up lines. flirting. one slight spank. frankie undressing you. frankie being gorgeous, minor cock worship, christmas themes. reader wears a green dress, talks of lipstick - but nil else.

wordcount: 3.7k an: huge thanks to @thetriumphantpanda for reading this and ensuring words meant what i meant. to all my frankie-lovers, this one is for you. credit to this tiktok for the idea.

It wasn’t that Frankie hated Christmas parties, he just found they weren’t his favourite.

Over the years of attending the Miller’s annual bash, he’d always found himself asked the same questions over, and over, again. They would always come at him in varying voices, accompanied by different expressions.

But they all had the same undertone: what’s next for you, Francisco? What’s your future like Francisco?

He’s sure he wouldn’t find it all so tedious if it were only once he had to deal with it.

However, it replays itself—almost like a rerun—when he visits his own family. The only difference is there’s more judgement, a higher pitched concern and intermittent Spanish.

This year, there was at least one noticeable change. A thing which spoke for itself: you.

Stepping out of the cab, you close your bag, fussing with the bottom of your green dress before you look over at him—eyes finding him.

He counts—a thing he does now. He does so until it appears. Having begun doing so without realising when the two of you made it official. He’d learnt that sometimes it comes by the count of five, but he loves it when it’s on the count of three.

Tonight, it’s two—two, measly seconds.

Eyes zoned in, Frankie watches it like a spectacle—like it’s a firework show just for him. His eyes trained as it blooms and stretches out, gazing as it brushes out over your cheeks. It hits your eyes, that smile which could stop his heart.

The one which makes him feel lucky; that burned a bonfire inside of him that no rain, wind or hail could ever extinguish.

“Keep looking at me like that, Morales, and we’ll break Will’s one, and only, rule.”

While the two of you would never describe yourself as animals, apparently the Miller brothers disagreed. Unbearable had been another descriptor used—

It’s not that we’re not happy for you both. But, around my family, could you calm it down?

Smirking, he holds his hand out to you. Something shifts back into place when your palm meets his and your fingers find their homes between his.

“I’m not the one with their legs out, querida.”

“I didn’t want to be underdressed!”

Snorting, he pauses at the steps to the front door. The music from inside thrumming, the hard-to-contain usual excitement is practically already trying to seep its way out into the night, trying to brush over the two of you, as he takes a second to admire you.

Because you looked radiant, indescribable. Yet, it isn’t even the half of you.

Fingers brushing your smile, he swallows, half thinking to himself if this is all a dream, he hopes he never wakes up. Not from this, from you.

“I tell you that you look good?”

Stepping closer, you press your lips to his. Bathing him in heaven and sweet scents, leaving a mark of you against his mouth.

“You did,” you whisper, breath dancing with his when you part before your thumb wipes over the stain your kiss left. “Now, let’s go in, so we can begin the countdown to getting home.”

Foolishly, Frankie had expected you being on his arm would answer questions.

But if anything, it forced more to arise.

Some he could answer with a smile, a laugh, even a shrug, and others he found were ticking time bombs that no amount of sips of his beer would dilute. It was made worse when you’d slip away, tempted by a cocktail or a glass of bubbles, a kiss to his cheek as a parting gift while you left him to the hounds.

When he managed to make a break from the third when are you asking her to marry you, Frankie hides next to Ben—who is eyeing up the buffet table like it has all his answers and prayers layered over it.

“Hey man, having a good time?”

“Yeah, Benny. Great.”

Snorting, Ben grabs a piece of fruit. “Y’good?”

Twisting the cap off another bottle, he shoots a glare at Ben—hoping it’s readable, his anguish, how fucking uncomfortable he is. “Your Aunt just asked me when I’m getting married, and when I’m making her a great aunt.”

Laughing, he watches as his friend pops another piece of ham in his mouth. “And are you?”

“Fuck off, Ben.”

“Jus’ saying, maybe I wanna be an uncle while my knees are still good.”

Shoving him, Frankie leaves him laughing, moving through the guests, nodding and hugging those he had managed to avoid thus far. But his eyes are fixed on finding one thing—you. With each brush over a group, his heart sinks a little.

It only returns to its rightful place when he finds you in the corner, tucked away. Close to the overzealously decorated Christmas tree, positioned close to a set of bookcases he remembers hiding next to himself last year.

You have your back to the room, allowing him a moment to brush his gaze over your spine—over the way your dress skims down over your curves. Your attention is stolen, either genuinely interested in what you’re holding or busy pretending to be in a book covered in more dust than an abandoned building.

Sliding his arms around your waist, he feels you curl into him.

“Answer me this honestly. Do you think if I drank a smidge of bleach I’d still be able to fly with you to your family, or will I ruin Christmas?”

Laughing, he hooks his fingers together over your stomach, thumb brushing out over the silk—allowing himself to feel the softness that glides between his touch and your skin.

“That bad, huh?”

“Apparently I both have good skin and simultaneously could benefit from a skin regime—I found both out in the space of five minutes.”

Pulling a face, Frankie turns you, resting his head on yours as he feels your arms slide around him. Hearing you softly murmur which relative handed you both pieces of information.

“We could hide out in this corner all night? It’s a nice corner.”

“This where you hid last year?”

He says nothing, but the face he lets fall out says enough.

“We could hide or…” you say, an infliction to your tone.

One he doesn’t catch immediately, but dawns on him in the seconds that pass. More so, when he feels your eyes on him, burning, glaring.

“Or?”

Smirking, you bat your lashes—feigning innocence. A look he knows all too well means anything but angelic.

“Well… we technically can’t touch each other inappropriately,” you begin, tracing your fingers on his black shirt, circles then squares, then triangles. “But, Will wasn’t specific about saying inappropriate things.”

Leaning closer, Frankie narrows his eyes, pinching the inside of his cheek with his teeth.

“So, let’s see who can get away with saying the wildest, but publicly appropriate things.”

His mouth twists, watching your head tilt ever so slightly, lips remaining parted, waiting.

“Who wins?” he asks.

Tracing the edge of your upper lip with your tongue, you slowly begin to smirk—all wide-eyed, practically fucking shimmering.

“The person who calls an early cab home.”

It thrums in him, the tension of when you’ll say something.

Your fingers are in his as the two of you join the others, finding a place next to Will—who is busy both telling and reenacting a story Frankie is already sure he told last time.

He’s also sure you know it. Having been sure it was one Will had told most chances he got. But the way you’re hanging on to every word, makes him question otherwise.

“Very on top of things, isn’t he?” you whisper, nodding your head to Will.

Pausing, Frankie bites his smile, brow raising as he watches you twirl your finger over the top of your glass. The distinct sound of Santa, Baby playing in the background, fading from the loudness to a simple hum as you adjust your dress in front of him. Letting him see a glimpse of your breasts—showing him how all that remains between him and your skin is one single, thin piece of silk.

Keeping his hand at his side, he watches you. Assessing. Trying to work out your direction, your ploy—taking a sip from his beer just as you begin to add:

“I like to be on top of things. Would you like to be one of them?”

He almost chokes. Heat flushing on his neck, burning up to his ears. Somehow able to bury the splutter, your face shifting into one of concern—but he sees the devilishness under it. Your eyes giving you away, even if your hand is patting his back, calling his name.

Moving closer, your lips almost brush his ear. “You like that one, Morales?”

Catching himself, he knocks the bottom of his bottle against your glass. “That’s a good one, querida. But, wait—are you an elevator, because I’d love to go down on you.”

It’s instant, the way your mouth falls open— eyes widening before he swears they twinkle.

“That was…”

Moving closer, he presses a kiss to your forehead, taking your empty glass from your hand. “Can’t wait to see you crack, baby.”

“Oh, it’s so on, Morales.”

At one stage, between you whispering ‘is that a candy cane in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?’ and him replying with ‘nice dress. Can I talk you out of it?’, Frankie had lost you to Will and an intense game of darts.

When he manages to pull himself free from an intense questioning from one of the smaller cousins on helicopters, he finds you in the kitchen—just tidying up some plates.

“Hey.”

Smiling, you slide the one in hand into the dishwasher. “Hey, handsome.”

“Why you in here alone, querida?”

Standing straight, you sigh, resting your palm on the counter as you look across at him. “Just… I’m not feeling myself.”

Placing his drink down, he moves around the counter. A wave of guilt crept up, wondering to himself how he’d missed it when he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off you.

Placing his palms on your jaw, he slides his fingers up your cheeks—lifting your chin.

“Can I feel you instead?” you add.

He feels your smirk sliding up into your cheek—slowly shaking his head as you begin to bite your tongue, his nose scrunching.

Laughing, low, almost gruffly, he smiles. “You’re so bad.”

Nodding, you slide your arms around his neck. It’s second nature to move you, press your lower spine into the counter—press his hips to yours.

“How you gonna make me good, Morales?”

“Well, I’m not a dentist, but I bet I could give you a filling.”

Grinning, you tighten your arms around his neck, mouth ghosting over his. For a moment, it’s just the two of you. The room fades out, the party a distant memory and the music nothing but a soundtrack. His fingers fall, sliding down, knuckles brushing over the silk which sits over your breast, running over your nipple he feels harden, before sliding down. Moving, slowly trailing his way until his hand grasps your hips—hearing the soft gasp you let escape.

You make him so hard—make him desire and crave.

Make him want to slowly pull up the skirt of your dress and feel for himself too if you’re having the same effect. If you’re soaked, if the tops of your thighs are coated in want.

“Frankie,” you whine, all low, barely more than a whisper.

As his waist presses against you, survey you as your brows rise at the realisation of how hard he is inside his jeans—how hard he is for you. Eyes flashing, something shifting—no longer a game but a prize within reach—as you lift your chin, slotting your mouth over his.

It begins soft, gentle. But in a click it's desperate. The words, the insinuations—all of them—slamming into the two of you as you crawl your nails against his scalp, and tug on his curls. His own grip tightened on your hip, keeping you flush to him, letting him rock his hips ever so slightly, the friction helping, groaning into your open mouth.

“Want you,” you murmur.

“Yeah?” he pants, drawing a circle on your hip, feeling you urging to kiss him. “Call a cab, baby. Call one and I’ll make it worth it.”

You halt, pause.

Blinking a few times, before clarity washes over lust—drowning it, dragging it back out to sea, leaving the beach with only memories.

“You should know…”

Tracing his nose over yours, he bites your bottom lip. “What should I know?”

Rolling your lips, you stare at him—the biggest, fullest eyes he’s seen. “I’m not wearing any underwear.”

He knows you move, but he doesn’t feel you do so.

Suddenly short-circuited. Left with only a fleeting recollection of the way your hip felt in his palm, the way your dress felt under the callouses and years of service. It isn’t until the door to the kitchen swings back, brushing against the frame, does he blink. Snapping out of it. Forcing him to realise what it is you just said.

“Fuck.”

Moving, he turns on his heel—palm flat on the wooden door as he pushes it open. His blood is thumping, jeans are uncomfortably tight as he scans the area.

All of the lines he’d found on his phone were seemingly pointless now. Hell, even the game seems pointless now. How close it was already, the fact all his nerves were sizzling, faint memories of how warm you were against him.

Especially now he knows he can pull you into an empty room, slide the fabric up which covers your body and find you bare.

The only thing he wants to do is surrender.

Is it say his goodbyes, call a cab, and have you at whichever home is closest. He just needs to find you. Doing another look, another scan. Moving through the room—spotting how the numbers have dwindled—before he finds you with Ben, no drink in hand, just a tight expression on your face.

“Hey—”

“I’ve called us a cab,” you announce, staring pointedly, the weakest wink sent only for him. His lips desperate to crawl up, clamber into his cheek. “Told Benny my headache was getting worse.”

The two of you are barely through the door when he presses you flat against it, it clicks into place—his finger-twisting the lock, sealing the two of you inside, nothing and no one allowed to interrupt.

“Bedroom, now.”

You slip out of your shoes, fingers wrapping around his chin as you slant your mouth over his—and he’s able to taste the bubbles you enjoyed earlier, the faint remnants of mint from gum you likely chewed in haste. Then it’s gone.

Fingers around his wrist, dragging him past furniture and rooms until he’s being led into his own room, your touch falling from him—feet stepping back, moving closer to the bed.

“If I said you had a beautiful cock, would you put it inside me?” you ask.

Groaning, he closes the gap, and pulls you flush to him as his palm comes down on your ass—your gasp spreading into his mouth, before your groan replaces it, washing past to his throat, tongue licking past his teeth.

His mouth on yours, his shirt coming undone. Your nails scratch down his chest, his stomach, pausing right where his belt sits on his waist—

“Dress on, or off.”

He barely registers the question at first, until his fingers grasp the dress by your waist. He tortures you with it, the way he bunches it up, slowly pulling it up, letting the edge of it skate past your knees, up your thighs. Each inch unveiled meaning the cool air is kissing your skin, brushing over it, likely making even more of a mess between your pressed-together thighs.

Not halting his movement until he can see you weren’t lying earlier, and then he aids you in getting it over your head, unveiling you—a goddess, the hottest fucking thing his eyes have ever seen.

And, you’re all his.

“Sit down, baby,” he moans.

You do, slowly perching your rear on the end of the bed, spreading your legs—looking at him with the same wide eyes as you’d given him in the kitchen. But, he’s only focused on the space between your thighs. How you’re drenched. Practically desperate.

“You want me?”

He watches you nod, and he steps closer—forcing your thighs apart, spread by his thighs as he slowly removes his shirt—eyes gesturing down to his belt. And, you read his mind well. Tongue swiping over your lip as you begin to undo his belt, the melt clattering, his jeans loosening as you move to the button, then the zip—the noise cutting through the slow breaths the two of you keep trying to take.

Commanding your eyes up to his, he slowly kneels on the bed—one on either side as he watches you slide back, the two of you moving more into the middle, bodies almost touching, heat searing between the two of you. It only warms further when his lips find yours, when it’s needy, all tongue and whimpers.

His hips move with his movements and strokes, the air tinged with the littlest moans as he grabs a hold of his cock, dragging the head of it through your slick folds, making you plead, beg—smearing and skating it spitefully over your slick folds.

That’s when it meets his ears, those distinct words—ones he knows he’ll think up when the two of you are apart and he can’t sleep. When he’s rock hard and only imagining you being with him—I want to feel you tomorrow, Frankie.

It unlocks something. Floods him. He manages to take in a breath before he buries himself inside you, right to the hilt, going deep. He feels you stretch around his thickness, as he revels in your tightness, the way you gasp at the feel of him—fingers digging, scrunching them into his sheets. In awe of you, momentarily just watching you before he wrenches your back from his sheets, perching you on his thighs, needing to see you, needing to run his palms up your spine.

“You look beautiful taking me, querida?”

You moan as his hips snap, taking him so well, so perfectly—a thing he tells you, a rush of good girl, good querida taking me like this. And he expects a comment, a thing you bite back.

But it never arrives. Instead, it’s a barrage of chants, all yes, please, yes, painting the shitty room—giving the crumbling paint something to be disgusted at, other than its own despair. The metal legs of the bed squeal against the floor, the headboard hammering, and clattering, leaving a mess of years of repainting along the cheap flooring.

“More, Frankie. Please.”

His hand sliding down between your thighs, above where the two of you are joined, thumb finding your nerves, drawing circles—languid, slow. Tracing the letters of his first name against your throbbing clit—the sound of his cock fucking into you growing louder, sloppier.

"Love your cock, Frankie. Always feel so good inside me."

You're a mess, covered in a sheen of sweat and make-up smudged, but to him, you're still perfection. A realisation that almost nears him to the edge, to emptying himself inside of you and writing his name there too.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he grunts, teeth pinching your ear as your hand grips his wrist—thumb still swirling, the R and N being from your favourite from the way you moan, the way you clench around him, “Thought about this all night. Only fuckin’ thing that got me through it.”

He feels your nails dig down into his neck, mouth searing as it burns against yours, moan after moan coating him, letting him taste the sound of his name.

“Y’ruin me, Frankie—only one I ever want fucking me.”

It spurs him on, angling his hips, hitting the spot which makes your words slide into moans, all pleases and yeses, undoing you. It ripples out. Making your back arch into him, tightening up from your head to your toes, before it bursts. Erupts.

You clench all around him, tightening, squeezing him until his vision blurs and your name curls somewhere on his tongue, all set to be spat, spoken, even fucking whispered. Somehow able to swallow it when it unfurls through him, when it shoots up his spine and surges through every nerve and muscle.

The two of you collapsing against his mattress—both of you gasping, his heart hammering in desperation to rip out his chest and be with yours, as you turn in his grasp. Then, he feels your lips on his, burying three words against them, three words he says back, pressing them to your mouth, so he knows you have them.

Both relaxing, your ear coming to his chest, hand sliding out over his body.

“I liked our game,” you whisper.

“Me too.”

“Next time, we should make it more fun.”

Next time, he thinks, letting his eyes drift out to the drawer you never go in—the one stuffed with his underwear, and a box you no nothing about.

“Could get toys we need our phones for,” you continue, a mix of mischief and sleep adorned on your face.

Kissing your hairline, he sighs in contentment. “Sure, baby. Whatever you want.”

Because next year he’ll let you have whatever fun you want, as long as you’re his fiancé and not his girlfriend.

an: think sundays are now feral-frankie-sundays with jo...

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales smut #Frankie morales x reader smut #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #frankie morales smut #triple frontier smut #frankie morales x f!reader smut #pedrostories

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lizthewriter · 6 months

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tell me we weren't just friends / pansy parkinson

PAIRING fem!gryffindor!reader x pansy parkinson

SUMMARY you and pansy have been dating for a while now, much to the distress of both your and pansy's friends. but while your friends have come to be accepting of your romantic choices, you couldn't say the same about pansy's friends. what happens when pansy tries to break off your relationship when her friends start to interfere?

TAGS fem!gryffindor!reader x pansy parkinson, reader has she/her pronouns, angst, takes place during half-blood prince, death eaters, pansy is secretly a soft lil baby 🥺🥺, implied sexual content, insecurity, assuring, kissing, pansy is 😳😳

QUOTE "all of your friends have been here for too long, / they must be waiting for you to move on," - friends by chase atlantic

WORD COUNT 1.7K

WRITTEN 10.24.2023

You hesitated as your glitter-ridden fingertips hovered over your eyelids. It had been three days since Pansy had broken up with you. She had avoided you every time you tried to find her after classes or corner her after dinner. She was acting so odd. It wasn't like her to just dump you and completely ignore you. Merlin, she couldn't even lay her eyes upon you. It was like she was guilty of something, or at least felt that way.

"I say good riddance." Ginny exited the bathroom in full glam, looking gorgeous as usual, and plopped down on your bed. "Now we can both be hot and single together. No girl troubles. Just you and me, our friends, and the dance floor."

You sighed, brushed the last bit of glitter over your eyelids and siphoning off the leftover residue from your fingers with your wand. You placed your eyeshadow pallette away, grabbing a lipstick and some gloss. "It's not good riddance, Gin. I really liked Pansy. I don't know what's going on with her . . . but I do have my suspicions." You added the final touches to your makeup before responding. "Malfoy. I know he has to with this, I just do."

Hermione snorted from her bed, nose stuck down a book. "Well, you and Harry make a charming duo. Tell me, are we going to make Malfoy the scapegoat to all our problems forever? Just based on simple hunches?"

"Harry's right about him," you responded with a snap, glancing towards Hermione. "He's always up to something . . . I wouldn't be surprised if he really is a Death Eater. Besides, I've seen him hanging around Pansy much more than usual as of late. I don't know . . . it just feels like something's wrong."

Ginny sighed, pushing herself up off of your bed. "Look, we're just looking out for you. I know how hurt you were when it happened . . . it would pain me to see my best friend's heart broken again." She grabbed your hands with a pout. "Come on," she whined. A smirk started to slowly grow on her face as she swayed your arms. "Let's go dancing, grab some drinks . . . have a good time, yeah? I promise you I will turn that frown upside down!"

"For someone who is supposedly so popular, you can be a bit dorky at times, you know that?"

Ginny laughed boisterously, giving your shoulder a playful shove before walking towards the door leading downstairs. "'Mione, you tagging along?"

"Goodness no," Hermione refuted, snuggling further into the warmth of her bed. "I'm afraid that the solace within my bed is far more entertaining then whatever you two plan on doing tonight. Do have fun without me though! And please don't come back to my dorm and regurgitate your dinner all over my bed like last time. If I want to see an odd lump of green paste, I'd help Hagrid feed the flobberworms."

"Will do! Come on, let's go!" Ginny started to pull you out of the dorm. "I'm not going to let you wallow in sadness at your own pity party, no, we are going to forget what happened and have fun! All right?" She didn't wait a beat for you to respond. "All right!"

The room shivered and shook at the might boom of the bass - the music could be felt reverberating through everyone's chest for certain. A large sweaty group of kids were gathered in the middle, plastic red cups help above their heads as they swayed and jumped around. The music, of course, was provided by none other than Pansy's friend Blaise. He had always been kinder to you then her other friends, but even now you had to say that there was something paticularly dry in his eyes that made you think Draco wasn't the only friend whispering into her ears.

As your eyes started to search the room, Ginny's voice jolted you from your train of thought. "No, no, no! No wallowing tonight! What did we just talk about?" She had a disapproving look written all across her face. You sighed and rolled your eyes, but a smile couldn't help but leech into your expression.

"No self pity party," you reiterated with a mock-irritated tone.

"That's right, so let's go grab some punch that has obviously been spiked and dance!" She dragged you off towards the drinks table, pouring you a generous amount of a rather dark green of a drink. Then it was off to the dance floor, Ginny shouting at you about allowing your body to flow with the music. All you could really think about was the stench of sweat hovering in the air and the alcohol from other people's cups being sloshed all around you.

You glanced towards Ginny, who now seemed to be preoccupied with eyeing and flirting a Slytherin girl from across the room. Your eyes took to your surroundings, searching for Pansy until they finally identified her at the top of the dorm steps. All it took was one glance and she dashed back up the stairs, leaving you confused.

You decided to leave Ginny behind and follow Pansy, ignoring the glares from other Slytherin girl as you walked up the steps. You promptly stepped over a couple who was doing things that were best suited to the privacy of their own bedroom, now entering the hall. You walked down, passing one, two, three, four, five doors before landing upon the sixth one.

You didn't even knock - you felt you had a right to get an answer from Pansy and you didn't want to be turned down again.

"What do you want?" Pansy asked harshly, her back to you. She sat at the edge of the bed, gripping the mattress with all her might. Her black bob of hair was tied up in an elaborate hairdo complete with a pin stuck through the bun at rhe top of her head. It gave her a much sharper, more intimidating look then before. Not that you could see it now. "I thought I told you I don't want to see you anymore."

"And I thought that I told you that I don't believe that. Not a single word of it." You sighed, any anger in you immediately gone, now only exasperated and dischiveled. "Pans, please. Did I do something wrong? Or does this . . . does it have to do with Malfoy?"

"Didn't I tell you to go away?" Pansy snapped, suddenly standing up from the mattress and turning around to face you with a nasty expression. She marched on over to you and encouraged you in the direction of the door. "Go on! Leave! I don't want you here -"

You grabbed the hand that she had been wildly gesturing with, your fingers wrapped around her slim wrist. The silver bands on her harm slid down to somewhere near her elbow. "I thought we promised each other - no lies. No deception. I know there's something wrong, I can see it. I know you well enough to know that what you did wasn't of your own accord, Pansy. Tell me what's wrong."

You urged her with your eyes, pleading with her to talk to you. Even with your makeup on, the bags under your eyes were noticeable enough. The desperation in your tone was enough to weaken Pansy, even if just for a moment. Her expression softened, her arm slackened in your grip. You quickly released her hand, which fell down to her side.

"I . . . I can't really talk about it." She bowed her head, her eyes avoiding your own. "I just - I'm involved with something . . . and I can't let you get hurt. I won't let you get hurt."

You furrowed your brows, thinking back to what Harry had told you, Ron, and Hermione. How suspicious Draco had been acting. You glanced down towards her left arm, which was tucked away behind her back as though she didn't even want it within your line of sight.

"You're not . . . Pans, tell me you're not . . ." Pansy shut her eyes tightly, turning away from you. You grabbed her arm and pulled her back towards you. She stumbled into your chest and you wrapped your arms around her. "You can't push me away. I don't care if I get hurt, I care about you."

Pansy sniffled, her arms weakly gripping your waist. "You're not . . . mad at me?"

"I could never be mad at you Pans."

"But I'm - I'm -"

"Just a girl, who was forced into joining something she doesn't agree with. You've done nothing wrong."

Pansy sniffled, her fist pressed against your upper chest to keep herself sturdy. She glanced up at you, searching your eyes for any malicious intent but failing to find any. Her other hand reached up, brushing against your cheek before falling back down to your shoulder. As though debating during a moment's hesitation, Pansy suddenly surged forward to meet your lips, bringing her hand back up to wrape around the name of your neck. The kiss was one of passion and desperation and gratitude. You weren't one to back down and pressed into her equally as hungry, gasping as her teeth met the soft flesh of your bottom lip. You pulled away, utterly breathless, noticing the shy, yet somehow almost sly expression on her face.

She watched her fingers as they trailed across your exposed collarbone, causing you to shiver. "I really am sorry, for pushing you away . . . maybe I can make it up to you?" The tone in her voice made it obvious as to what she was suggesting. You grinned, nearing her face again, your nose brushing against her own.

"Oh really? What did you have in mind?"

Pansy smirked, reaching out and gently pushing you down onto her bed so you were seated. She crawled into your lap, legs swung around either side of your waist. She hummed, pressing a kiss against your neck. "You're about to find out."

#— [ glizzy posts ☆ ]#pansy parkinson #pansy parkinson x reader #pansy parkinson x you #my writing #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my fic #writing #fanfic #harry potter #hp #hp fanfcition #hp fanfic

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n4giism · 7 months

Text

⇢ ˗ˏˋ break you off by sonder ࿐ྂ

bllk x gn!reader

characters: kenyu yukimiya, tabito karasu, eita otoya, shouei barou, oliver aiku, michael kaiser, gin gagamaru

content: their nicknames part 2!

ari’s note: omd guys yall rly seemed to like part 1 of this nickname series so i thought i should write a part 2😜 here it is hope u like it !

part 1

kenyu yukimiya:

— yukki

people call him this often. it’s the name he introduces himself with.

“hello, my name is yukimiya. but you can just call me yukki.” because he’s friendly and chill like that.

you and all his friends call him this and he addresses himself as ‘yukki’ too. it’s such a cute name.

— ken

ken! that means you are his barbie <3 he likes joking around with this name and you do too!

well it is true, he would do anything for you like how ken does anything for barbie.

if you like to watch barbie movies/series he’ll gladly watch them with you too. i feel like yukki is also the type of guy who isn’t afraid to wear pink in public he’s ALL for it.

— ken-not see

i feel like karasu and otoya made fun of him with this😭

like just imagine this silly trio arguing and yukki brings up something like, “why don’t you stop putting so much gel in your hair, some of it seeped into your brain and now you’re all stupid!” to karasu and the room goes silent.

otoya giggles a bit and before y’know it karasu it biting back with, “yeah? at least i can see! ken-yu see?! how ‘bout that?!”

yukki is shocked and otoya is just laughing to himself watching this unfold and now, karasu has yukki’s contact changed to “ken-not see”.

tabito karasu:

— tabi

such a cute name for a manly guy. you call him this often and he seems to like it. sometimes he likes it so much that he won’t respond if you call him “tabito” or “karasu”

he’ll only respond if you call him ‘tabi’!!!

and only from you!! like if his friends call him ‘tabi’ he’ll ignore it because it’s special and only for you to use.

— tiramisu

the two of you were playing around with words and you somehow managed to connect the word ‘tiramisu’ to his full name.

the ‘t’ is taken from ‘tabito’, and ‘tiramisu’ rhymes with ‘karasu’ hence this ridiculous but funny nickname came to be.

— kraasu

like just imagine the typos you make when you text him and one day ‘kraasu’ popped up and you haven’t let it go ever since.

i guess it’s also an easier way to say ‘karasu’ it’s basically just shortened to ‘krasu’ y’know!

eita otoya:

— ei

he doesn’t really mind it, but it’s cute. just ‘ei’.

— toyota

he frowns a little when people call him this but he doesn’t stop them. it’s like a playful name for ‘otoya’.

sometimes people confuse his name as ‘toyota’ like the car too so!

— yoda

if you take his last name ‘otoya’ and just merely play around with it and mix up the letters to ‘yota’ it sounds just like ‘yoda’!

and it suits him (???) because of the green in his hair just like the actual yoda from star wars!

shouei barou:

— sho/shou

simple. short. easy.

barou likes it when you call him this, it’s cute and he replies to this name.

— baron bunny

kinda like amber from genshin💀 i’m so sorry if you don’t play but basically there’s a character who has these bombs that explode and she calls them baron bunny.

idk i just thought barou’s name is similar to baron when i first started bllk lolol

— barou, barou, kyun!

LMAO nagi and isagi will not let this ago during that blue lock selection games. when you started dating barou and met with his friends from bllk they were quick to tell you about how barou acted during their time in blue lock.

nagi having a fever dream about barou being a maid and isagi adding on to it with barou wearing a maid costume and chigiri would’ve done his makeup with bright red lipstick.

it’s funny to think about…

oliver aiku:

— oli

sometimes he doesn’t like it because of oli london😭 but it sounds so nice and the way it rolls off your tongue makes him melt so he forgets about that cursed koreaboo and just loves when you call him this.

— ai/aiku

he especially loves ‘ai’ because it translates to ‘love’!

so it’s kinda like you’re calling him ‘love’ when you call him ‘ai’ ugh he just loves it.

— captain

you joke around and call him this when he tells you to do something.

“y/n, could you get more of my protein snacks from the store later?” “yes, captain.”

“y/n, could you help to time my runs today?” “of course, captain.”

it doesn’t faze him, he’s so used to being called captain by his teammates that he doesn’t really care.

michael kaiser:

— micha

pronounced as ‘mika’. it’s cute, he smirks a little when you call him this.

— kai

i guess he likes this too! it’s simple and easy to pronounce.

— liebling/schatz

he loves when you call him any of these names. any german term of endearment, he just loves it.

he’ll also call you this too, and so you picked it up from him and begun calling him these lovely names too!!!

gin gagamaru:

— ginnie

he smiles sooo wide his eyes close when you called him this for the first time. he didn’t know how much he loved being called a nickname until it slipped out of your mouth!

“you’re calling me that? that’s so cute…” he mutters, all smiley and giggly.

i guess there are two pronounciations for this. it could be “ginnie” with a g, or like “jinnie”!!!

— gaga/lady gaga

he was confused at first like “who is lady gaga” until you explained to him and he likes it!

he thinks it’s silly and cute.

— gin

short and sweet. he likes his name already but he loves it even more when you call him this. it just melts his heart and he just loves you so much :,)

end.

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dotster001 · 11 months

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Le Chasseur d'Amour, Chapter Two

Summary:Rook x gn!reader. On earth, your mind begins playing tricks on you again. In twisted wonderland, Rook begins his journey.

Chapters: One Three Four Five

"I'm home," you announced as you tossed your keys on the couch. No one responded, so you texted a family member that you had made it home safe from work. They always wanted to know where you were. You couldn't really blame them, especially with how volatile you'd been when you'd been "found".

You sat down with a groan, propping your aching feet up. You definitely were regretting how you told your family you weren't going to college because you "already had a degree". Maybe you could have had a job where you sat all day, instead of standing. Still, neither job sounded all that appealing, if you truly thought about it.

You looked at the time on your phone and groaned when you saw how much day was left. You searched your brain to decide what to do with yourself, when you heard a sizzling sound.

Confused, you stood up and searched for the sound, finding yourself in the bathroom.

"The fuck?" You muttered, staring at the orange, burning, starting on the edge of your mirror and slowly moving inward.

The parts that weren't burning showed a foggy room, a pair of green eyes that you knew from your dreams flashing for a moment. The sizzling sound got louder, and you shouted as the mirror, and bathroom light bulb, shattered.

You covered your face with your arms, petrified. When it felt like you could move again, you looked at all the shattered glass around you, and took a deep shuddering breath, before letting out a scream.

Once the scream had settled you, you calmly pulled out your phone, called your therapist to set up an emergency appointment.

….

Rook was hastily packing a bag full of belongings; some food, some thaumarks, a couple random potions.

"Wait, you're planning to leave right now?" Vil asked, startled by the fevered look in Rook's eyes.

"Obviously. I can't waste another moment without mon amour."

"But you don't know where the portal lets out!"

"My signature spell will guide me!"

"And what if they use different money than ours?"

"I can live off my surroundings."

"What if Y/N has found someone else?"

Rook turned to him, his face split with an anger unlike any other.

"Roi du poison, if you are insistent on staying in my way, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Anyone else would have backed down. But Vil knew Rook better than anyone. And he knew someone had to be reasonable.

"It's been five years, Rook. Listen, I miss them too, but-"

"But you can't feel them pulling you, can you? You have no idea what it's like!" Rook shouted, his eyes quickly filling with pained tears.

"They're right there," he whispered hoarsely, his voice raw in a way Vil had never heard it before.

He stared silently for a minute.

"You're such a potato sometimes. At least make preparations before we leave."

"We?"

"Do I have to repeat myself?"

"I can't ask you to-"

"Hush. I can't leave you alone in some strange dimension, now can I?" Vil pulled out his compact and reapplied his lipstick. "Honestly, you're hopeless without me, Hunt."

Rook just stared, ever in awe of his queen. Vil sighed.

"At least pack us both a change of clothes. It'll do you no good if you reek when you reunite with your beloved."

Rook rushed off, no doubt to grab his most fashionable garb. While he was away, Vil curiously approached the glowing mirror, holding his palm an inch from the surface.

"I hope you're in there, Y/N," he whispered, a final prayer for a heartbroken friend.

Rook came back with two bags.

"I have everything we need. Let's go."

Before Vil could even react, Rook had grabbed his wrist and pulled him through the portal.

When they had both come to, they looked around. It appeared they were in a public restroom, and a nasty one at that.

"Revolting, I hate it here already," Vil gagged, "and what are we going to do about that mirror?"

Rook looked around, before pulling out his pen and miniaturizing it, sticking it in his pocket.

"You think they won't notice their mirror missing?"

"You think I care if they notice?"

Vil sighed. After all these years he never truly learned.

"So Y/N's…here?" The here was spat out, like the word itself was the disgusting part.

"Non, non, something shifted when we stepped through," Rook said offhandedly, "but I know where they are."

"Where?"

Rook grinned and started to walk away.

"Where? How dare you ignore my question! Where are they?"

....

Tag list- @shytastemakerthing @eccedentesiast-sapphic @leoll @stygianoir

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst rook #rook x reader #rook hunt x reader #rook hunt #twisted wonderland rook

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charmandabear · 4 months

Text

New Year's Eve

Summary:

You don't really want to go to Shadowheart's New Year's Eve party, but you meet someone who might make things a little more interesting.

Pairing: Astarion/gn!Reader (femme leaning) Rating: T Word Count: 3.7k Tags: fluff, first kiss, new year's eve, flirting, sexual tension, pool shenanigans (the game, not like swimming)

Read it on AO3.

Final part (maybe) of Midwinter Nights! I really wanted to get this out actually on NYE, but I spent too much time playing Baldur's Gate. Oops. Once again, my beautiful banner Astarion was made by Idylla.

Midwinter Nights: Yule | Christmas | New Year's Eve

You're not really one for parties. There are too many strangers in too small of a space listening to music that's too loud while eating food that's too salty. But Shadowheart was insistent, even helping you dress for the occasion.

She bent over you, applying some glittery eyeshadow that fell onto your cheeks with every stroke of her brush. Her long silvery ponytail dangled over her shoulder, the tip of it tickling your hands resting in your lap.

“Stop flinching!” she snapped, and you clenched your hands to force yourself still. You weren't accustomed to wearing much makeup at all, save maybe a little smokey eyeliner and lipstick. But you really hated having things near your eyes. Shadowheart knew this, and she promised to be as gentle as possible. She pulled up your eyebrow to smooth out her canvas.

When she pulled out a tool that could have easily been a medieval torture device, you scooted back in her vanity chair and held your hands up in defense. She rolled her eyes at your theatrics.

“This is the alternative to mascara, it's going to be one or the other,” she huffed at you. “It won't hurt at all, so long as you stay still.” Still wary of the metal contraption, you closed your eyes, taking a breath to settle your jumpy nerves.

She pressed the cool curved metal to your eyelid and you managed to still your instinct to pull back. She clamped the contraption down on your eyelashes and you held your breath to keep yourself from moving. You managed to stay frozen while she curled the lashes of your other eye, and when she finally pulled away you let out a puff of air.

“Okay, now lashes,” she said as she applied a thin layer of glue to a spidery false eyelash.

“Woah woah woah, I thought that was it. What the hell is that?” You leaned away from it like she was holding an actual tarantula. She flicked up her cold green eyes to meet yours, unamused by your antics.

“You said no mascara, so this is necessary. Don't worry, nothing will get in your eye, this just sits on top.” She waved the lash like she was shaking water off it, and you followed it with your eyes uneasily.

“Why is this so important to you?” you muttered under your breath, resuming your statuesque stillness. You heard Shadowheart release an impatient breath.

“I just want to make you look pretty, is that so much to ask? Well, prettier than usual, at least.” You could hear the smile in her voice. The least you could do is indulge her a little bit, you supposed. Shadowheart didn't have many luxuries growing up in such a strict orphanage. She wasn't allowed to keep any dolls, so letting her play dress up with you now was a small price to pay for her delight.

“Besides,” her voice took on a musical quality, “there’s going to be someone there tonight that I want you to meet.” You stifled a groan. Shadowheart had become borderline insufferable since she and Karlach started dating. The two of them were very cute together, almost sickenly so, stealing touches whenever they thought they could get away with it. You knew that she just wanted you to be happy, but you still hadn’t quite recovered from the last time she set you up with someone.

“This isn’t going to be like that awful double date with Gale, right?” you asked with trepidation. She smirked as she stepped back, admiring her work.

“No, trust me, I learned my lesson on that one. In fact, these two couldn’t be more different, I promise.” She tapped your knee, signaling you to turn back to the vanity mirror to see the final look. For a moment, you were actually at a loss for words. The silvery shimmer on your eyelids reflected every color of the rainbow, the sparkles dancing every time you moved your head. The sharp lines of the deep plum color on your lips made them look pouty and kissable. Your hair cascaded down your shoulder, pinned back with little star and moon shaped trinkets. She had put you in a dress that you were certain would make you look like a clown, but the way the rose gold sequins and sweetheart neckline hugged your curves evoked an almost ethereal quality.

“So?” Shadowheart made eye contact with you in the mirror, and you could see her bouncing with excitement.

“Shadowheart, I look amazing!” you breathed, still marveling that a little styling could change this much.

“I know,” she said in her charmingly self-satisfied way. She planted a kiss on the top of your head and bounded across the room to her dresser, pulling a necklace off the jewelry tree sitting on top.

“Hair,” she commanded, and you carefully held up your hair for her to clasp it around your neck. “And one final touch,” she added, and said the incantation for minor illusion, making everything on you sparkle just a little bit more. She put her hands on your shoulders and pressed her cheek to yours, still looking at your reflection in the mirror.

“You know, I did such a good job that you’ll have your pick of potential partners,” she grinned, “but I think I know who you’ll choose.”

~~~

The temporary confidence boost brought on by seeing your reflection had worn off and the social anxiety began to creep in. Shadowheart sashayed over to you and pressed a wine glass into your hand.

“I don't think he's here yet, but drink this, loosen up a bit,” she said with a conspiratorial smile. You welcomed having something to do with your hands as your eyes scanned the room, looking for a comforting face. Unfortunately your eyes locked with Gale, who smiled and waved.

“Sorry, gotta run,” Shadowheart said and was gone before you could protest. Gale wandered toward you and politeness locked your legs in place.

“Hello again,” he greeted cheerily, if not a bit awkwardly. You gave him a strained smile, clutching your glass a little tighter.

“Hi Gale, it's good to see you,” you said, hoping the lie wasn't too evident. You stood together in silence for a moment, shuffling your feet uncomfortably.

“Read anything interesting lately? I'm currently several chapters into the most fascinating tome on the intricacies of the Peloponnesian War by the Greek historian Thucydides. He does something really remarkable, something that only a handful of historians even think to do, by connecting the famines around that time with the internal conflicts that arose. He manages to capture the desperation that forced them into…”

It amazed you how much he could speak without taking a breath. Despite starting with a question, he hadn't paused long enough for you to answer. You sipped the wine as he continued to ramble, eyes darting around for an escape. Your gaze landed on a beautiful young man with ivory skin and silvery hair, perfectly windswept. Your breath caught in your throat a little just looking at him. He was dressed impeccably, a blue and purple brocade vest with gold closures over a dusky lavender cashmere turtleneck that hugged his lithe figure. His legs were long and lean, and he stood with a permanently crooked gait, giving an aloof and casual air.

He caught your eye and flashed a disarming grin. His gaze shifted to Gale, who had moved on to comparing The History of the Peloponnesian War to Plato’s Republic, then back to you. He raised his eyebrows in a silent question, to which you nodded almost imperceptibly. He chuckled and sauntered over.

“Gale, darling, I’m afraid our new friend here will soon lose her hearing the way you’re talking her ear off,” he said in a melodic voice, slinging an arm around Gale’s shoulder. Gale started and turned toward the handsome stranger.

“Oh, Astarion, I didn’t see you there.” He turned to look back at you, appropriately chagrined. “My apologies, once I get started it can be hard for me to stop. I’ll stop monopolizing your presence and let you mingle.” And with that, he was off. You let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding.

“Thank you, I didn’t know how to make him stop,” you said with relief, your posture visibly relaxing.

“He has a tendency to do that,” he chuckled, “you learn how to manage him after a time.”

“I appreciate it all the same,” you responded, cheeks beginning to redden. His gaze was piercing, almost as if he could see into you.

“You know, I thought I had already met everyone worth knowing around here, but evidently I was wrong.” He held out a slender hand for you to take, and you shivered slightly when you felt how icy it was. “Astarion, though I suppose Gale let that fact slip already.”

You caught a glimpse of Karlach across the room, who noticed you talking to Astarion and excitedly batted Shadowheart’s shoulder. She turned and gave you a big smile, mouthing “That's him!” while pointing at Astarion’s back. Her lack of subtlety made you smile.

“Yeah, I think our generous host wanted us to meet,” you said with a little nod, and he looked over his shoulder at Karlach and Shadowheart, who very unconvincingly pretended to be deep in conversation.

“Well how lucky for us that we found each other, then,” he said in a low breath, and you felt your subconscious pulling you toward him, the magnetic force between you palpable. You coughed and stepped away, head spinning slightly from the rush. You nervously took a sip of your wine.

“Are you enjoying that?” he asked, wrinkling his nose at the glass. You looked down at it, perplexed. You didn't really know much about alcohol at all, you just accepted whatever Shadowheart gave to you.

“It's fine, I guess,” you said, shrugging noncommittally. He took it from you and bent down to put it on the table behind you. He brushed against you slightly as he did, and that heady feeling came back. The scent of his cologne washed over you, your body reacting to the smell like a pheromone. You blinked at him as he straightened up.

“You smell… good,” you stammered incoherently.

“Aren't you just the sweetest?” he said with a jaunty smile. “Here, let me get you something better than that foul wine.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you over to an old-fashioned metal drink cart. Shadowheart would get something like that for a party.

“Any requests?” He surveyed the selection, lithe fingers dancing over the labels.

“I don't drink much, so whatever you think is good,” you said, looking up at him with your big doe eyes. He smiled, admiring just how cute you looked, your silky hair curling around your pretty neck. He was suspicious of your innocent act, convinced that there was more to you than you led on. He took two shot glasses from the lower tray and poured a deep red liquor.

“Try this, let me know what you think,” he said, handing you one of the shot glasses. He held his out to you, making very deliberate eye contact, waiting for you to clink. You locked eyes with him and his undead heart skipped a beat. You both downed the shot while maintaining eye contact. When you pulled the glass away from your lips, a delectable drop of the blood red liquid remained.

Astarion reached out and swiped his thumb across your bottom lip, his touch like an electric shock. He smirked as he licked the remnant of the liquor that he stole from your lip. He must've known what he was doing to your insides, and it looked like he was enjoying watching you squirm.

“How does that taste?” he murmured, tongue lingering on the st. Your throat was dry despite the liquor still coating the inside of your mouth.

“Good,” you croaked with a nod. “I like it.”

“Good,” he repeated your word, somehow making it sound so much more lascivious. He grabbed two long flutes and filled them with sparkling wine. He then topped them off with the sweet liquor, and you watched the red liquid curling through the gold, undulating like an exotic dancer. He swirled the glasses until the entire drink had taken on a bright crimson.

“Cheers,” he said, holding out the glass. You tapped your glass to his, lost once more in his intense eye contact. You watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed, mesmerized by the smooth porcelain of his skin. He noticed you staring and he grinned, causing you to suddenly look away as you felt your cheeks reddening.

In that moment Karlach sidled up to you, saving you from yourself. She threw her arm around your neck and addressed Astarion.

“Hey, Fangs, I hear you're pretty good at pool. Wyll and I are the undefeated champs right now, think you and Sparkles here can take us?”

Fangs?

“Well, I do rather enjoy seeing Wyll’s cry, so yes, I think we can. What do you think?” He hit you again with that penetrating gaze of his, and you felt yourself buckle under the weight of Karlach’s arm.

“Sure,” you said meekly, still feeling Astarion's stare. Karlach pumped her fist in victory and ran off to grab Wyll. Astarion pressed his hand into your lower back in the direction of the pool table.

“Don't worry if you don't know how to play, darling, I'll play well enough for the both of us,” he whispered into your ear, and his breath tickled your love. You swallowed thickly and allowed yourself to be guided over to the table.

Wyll was already there, chalking up his cue. You had met him once or twice in passing, but never spent much time in each other's presence. You waved shyly and he replied with a polite nod.

“Ahh, billiards,” Wyll said wistfully. “Such an elegant game.”

“Any game where I get to smack a bunch of balls with a stick is the game for me,” Karlach cackled, clearly proud of herself. Wyll rolled his eyes as he set up the table and you giggled quietly.

“We’ll go first to give you two a little advantage,” Karlach smirked, and sent the cue ball flying into the rack.

“Ladies first,” Astarion handed you a pool cue and bowed, gesturing at the table. Your eyes scanned for the best shot. Right as you found it, Astarion came up close behind you, his lips centimeters away from your ear.

“Go for the 3 ball into the corner pocket,” he breathed, putting his arms around you to help you aim the cue. Your heart pounded feeling him this close, his front flush against your back, his pretty silver curls tickling your neck. You struggled to keep your breath even and you tried to focus on the ball in front of you. You managed to snap out of it when it became clear that he wasn't helping you angle the cue correctly.

You looked over your shoulder at him and the spark in your eye was electrifying. Your muscles, previously lax and easily pliable, suddenly sprang to life as you took control of the cue. He heard the crack of the cue ball hitting the 3 ball before he saw it. He also felt the jab to his gut as you thrust the cue back in order to gain the necessary momentum to make the shot. He stepped back and coughed, holding his hand against his solar plexus. The pain was almost worth it when you spun around and covered your mouth with your hands, face growing a delicious shade of red.

The sudden horror of elbowing Astarion in the stomach filled your body with the heat of embarrassment, your eyes about to melt out of your head.

“I. Am. So. Sorry,” you managed to squeak out behind your hands. He was bent over slightly, but he still managed a weak smile.

“No, the mistake is mine for making an assumption,” he wheezed. You gnawed on your lower lip, anxiety coming off you in waves. Astarion straightened up and gently took your chin in his hand, tilting your face up to him.

“Just make sure we win,” he said in a silky tone that sent a shiver down your spine. You nodded dreamily, and he chucked his finger below your chin.

Watching you play pool was something else. You were suddenly more confident than you had been all night - he knew the damsel facade was just an act. He relished in seeing you stalk around the table like a lioness circling her prey. Your eyes flitted across the table, making calculations, playing each scenario out in your mind. Astarion fancied himself a decent billiards player, but you were an artist at work. Even Karlach and Wyll’s banter died down as they struggled to figure out how to beat you.

But even better than witnessing your mastery at pool was simply watching you as you played. The slight imprint the cue made across your chest as you leaned into it, the way your dress sparkled every time you moved, the cheeky glimpse of your ass as you bent down to take a shot.

He preened a little while he played, not so secretly hoping you were watching him as much as he was watching you. He may have put a little extra arch in his back, leaned back on his leg a little more than was necessary, just at the chance of seeing you flustered.

And fluster you it did. Not enough to throw you off your game - no, when it was time to take a shot, everything else fell away. But while you were waiting, you couldn’t keep your eyes off him. Every time he bent over, scandalous images passed through your mind, deepening the flush in your cheeks. While Wyll and Karlach discussed a shot, you watched his fingers lightly run over the length of his cue, and you wondered what else those fingers could do. The thought made your heart race and Astarion turned to look at you, almost as if he could read your mind. Which you didn’t think he could do. He didn’t know any spells, to your knowledge, but you should really try to control your thoughts just to be safe. Though you weren’t sure if you could around him.

You came back to yourself just as Karlach celebrated sinking their last striped ball. She punched Wyll in the shoulder and he rubbed at it while her back was turned. He surveyed the table, tried for an angle to pocket the 8 ball, and missed.

You stepped up to the table, mapping out the geometry in your mind's eye. You found an angle that should work, and you leaned over to line up your shot. Astarion came up behind you, and you could feel him pressing into your backside.

“You've got this,” he whispered, and a shudder shot through your body. Enough to misalign your carefully lined shot. And you missed.

“Aww, tough break!” Karlach could barely contain her glee. “Looks like Pretty Boy got you distracted,” she added with a devilish grin. You looked at Astarion and then quickly looked away, trying to hide your blush.

“What can I say? I'm very distracting,” he retorted. “But you haven't won just yet. I still get a shot.”

“Oh boo, just take your shot, then, so we can win.” She stuck out her tongue at him.

You felt awful for missing, since you absolutely would have made you hadn't been so down bad for him. It's also not lost on you that if you win, he might want to celebrate…

You quietly cast guidance on him as he's lining up his shot. He bristles, then changes his angle ever so slightly. He tapped the cue ball which bounced against the 8 ball, knocking it into the side pocket. You and Astarion both shouted with joy. Karlach’s face fell while Wyll eyed you suspiciously.

“What? No way, man, I can't believe you made it,” she pouted, crossing her arms across her broad chest. Astarion threw his arms around you and you pressed yourself into his chest, inhaling that intoxicating fragrance. You felt him vibrate with a low chuckle. You looked up at him without breaking the hug, and he whispered, “you cheeky little minx.”

You looked up at him with those doe eyes again, the feigned innocence back. He smirked and gently stroked your hair.

“Everyone, gather round, it's nearly midnight!” Shadowheart called out to the room. “Help yourselves to a toasting glass.”

Astarion led you to the tray of glasses and handed you one.

“I never fancied you a cheater,” he murmured under his breath. You looked at him aghast, this one not quite as convincing.

“10!.. 9!..”

“I'm certain I have no idea what you mean,” you shyly glanced up at him through your lashes. He was certain you knew exactly what you were doing.

“8!.. 7!..”

“I don't know if there's anything strictly in the rules about using cantrips,” he mused, looking off to the side. You stepped a smidge closer.

“6!.. 5!..”

“Well either way, I enjoyed playing by your side.”

“4!.. 3!..”

“I just enjoyed being by your side,” his voice was low and cool, and your heart started pounding in your throat.

“2!.. 1!.. Happy New Year!!”

He pulled up your chin towards his, planting a tender kiss on your lips. He tasted sweet, the drink he made earlier still on his tongue. You clutched at his fine vest, aching to deepen the kiss. You knew this wasn't the time or the place, but you desperately craved more of him.

He swiped his tongue along your lower lip and pulled away, hovering a few centimeters away from your face.

“Happy New Year indeed,” he purred, and smiled, flashing two pointed incisors that you just barely caught out of the corner of your eye.

Fangs? Your heart thumped loudly against your chest, trying to escape in excitement.

Fangs.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion fanfic #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate fanfiction #astarion fluff #astarion x reader #astarion x you #fanfiction #bg3 spoilers #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 astarion

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junosartsthetic · 1 year

Text

Girl’s Night In

Hermes and Jolyne are hot. Also, my beloved partner @hugging-jjba-characters suggested I write this. Enjoy.

Warning(s): smut, oral, fingering, threesomes, afab!reader, polyamory, nicknames

Having two beautiful women, who also happened to be dating, as your roommates was disheartening sometimes, to say the least. Being single, you always felt pangs of jealousy looking at Jolyne and Hermes cuddled up on the couch, watching some movie you didn’t care enough to know the name of. Not only that, but the walls of your apartment were excruciatingly thin, and almost every night you’d hear the sounds of their pleasure echoing from the other side of your room.

And almost every night you silently fucked yourself to their noises, feeling overwhelming guilt but also utmost satisfaction every time you came on your vibrator to their moans and the sound of thumping.

This was routine for a while, until one night they asked you something you’d never expect to hear. It started innocently enough, the two women sitting on either side of you as you caught up on a show. They’d just returned from a night out, and you could smell their perfumes and the scents of the city carrying from their revealing outfits.

“Hey, beautiful,” Hermes started, nestling against your side and planting her chin on your shoulder.

You paid no mind to her nickname. She and Jolyne were always affectionate with you. Only platonically, you reminded yourself. You lightly leaned your head against hers. “Hey. What’s up? Did you two have fun?”

“Ehh, the bar was kind of a let-down,” Jolyne chimed in, absentmindedly playing with your hand. She drew shapes into your palm, giving you goosebumps.

“I’m sorry,” you said, “I hope your night isn’t completely ruined.”

Hermes placed a hand on your bare thigh, skimming the hem of your nightgown. “Well, we had a plan for later tonight, but want to see if you’ll join us.”

“It’s actually something we’ve been wanting to ask you for a while, but finally caved after always seeing you so alone all the time,” Jolyne noted. “And it’ll be fun. Promise.”

“Are you gonna tell me, or do I have to guess?” you teased, rolling your eyes at their bizarre behavior. Hermes started to pick at the lace of your gown.

“I think—”Hermes looked towards her girlfriend— “we think, it would be best to show you. Of course, stop us if you don’t want to. This is about making you comfortable.”

“Okay…?” you said, trailing off. A part of you simmered with excitement at their plans for you. You didn’t want to assume anything, especially given that they were your roommates and already with each other, but you couldn’t help but wonder as Hermes continued her accent up your thigh.

“Look at me,” Jolyne spoke, voice soft yet demanding attention. Her fingers brushed against your face, pulling you to come face-to-face with her. She caressed your cheek before leaning forward. Your heart pounded in your chest. Hermes could feel your body shiver as her hand met your hip, turning inwards to slip underneath your panties.

Jolyne’s lips met yours, her lipstick smearing onto your surprised face as you pressed yourself closer. This felt like a dream. What if it was? You pushed those thoughts aside. Nothing mattered to you right now but her lips on yours as Hermes’s expert fingers began to scour your folds.

Jolyne’s tongue now exploring your mouth muffled your moan as her hand moved to squeeze your breast. Hermes let out a soft laugh. “D’aww. Beautiful, you’re already getting so wet for us. You must’ve been so lonely all those nights, hearing us fuck each other without you.”

Every syllable had your brain reeling, already overwhelmed and consumed by the two women playing with your body.

Jolyne pulled away, her lipstick smudged. She shot you a flustered grin. “You look good with a green lip. I’ll have to do this more often.”

You didn’t have time to respond before your head was pulled in the other direction, Hermes now connecting her lips with yours. Both of her hands now worked to wiggle your panties down, pulling them until they fell to your feet. She pressed against you further, her teeth nipping at your lips to keep you from pulling away.

“What a hog,” Jolyne mused. She slipped your thinly-strapped nightgown off your shoulders, watching as it folded down your abdomen, leaving your breasts on display. Not wasting a second, she slid a nipple in her mouth, biting and licking it as it hardened. You couldn’t catch your breath, panting down Hermes’s throat as she continued to kiss you with all the passion in the world. Her hand moved back to your dampening cunt, fingers scissoring you open slowly as her thumb circled your clit. It was like she knew your body better than you did.

Jolyne groped the breast not in her mouth, making sure to pleasure every part of your body she could reach. Her other hand rested on your thigh, gripping it hard enough to leave a mark. It was her way of pulling the attention back to her. A competition seemed to spark between the two women, seeing who could have you undone first.

“Swing your legs up,” Hermes said, pulling away as she slid back just enough to make room. You did as told, basically wrapping your legs around her torso, now giving her full access to your pussy.

Jolyne rolled her eyes at the new position, your head now on her lap. Still, she was quick to slink a hand down next to her girlfriends, making sure to give special attention to your clit as Hermes worked you open.

With your mouth free to speak, your moans and pants were now obvious to the pair. “God, you sound so hot,” Jolyne panted, her free hand working up her dress to play with her own clit. You could feel her fingers moving from behind your head. Impulsively, you turned to face her stomach, signaling her to place one thigh over your head. Not wasting a second, you hovered your lips just above her clit, tongue shooting out to taste her as you licked at her folds. Her leg atop your neck pressing against your windpipe just enough to leave you breathless spurred you onward. You neared your orgasm as Hermes continued pressing her fingers into you. You spotted her playing with her pussy with her other hand, a blush on her face as she caught your eye.

That familiar feeling built within you, like a firework getting ready to burst, and you moaned against Jolyne’s cunt as it finally exploded. Cum oozed from your cunt as Hermes watched. Your walls twitched and contracted around her fingers as they picked up speed. With more lubricant, she could move inside you even faster.

The feeling of your breath against her clit made Jolyne gasp, the hand on her clit moving to push your head into her folds, pushing her to her peak. You excitedly lapped into her entrance, tongue pressing onwards to taste every inch of her walls you could reach. You held onto her leg which rested on top of you, pulling it further open to grant you more access. “Right there, baby,” she moaned. “Just keep going right there—God, you’re good with your tongue.”

Her words fueled the fire within you, and within moments, you could taste the cum which flooded your mouth as she orgasmed. You giggled at the feeling of her pussy twitching around your tongue.

Hermes reached her own high, fingers spasming within your folds as she gasped.

Everything stopped for a few moments, all of you panting. You almost assumed they’d be finished with you, but feeling Hermes’s fingers begin to thrust into again, you realized they were far from over toying with your body tonight.

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dilucsflame33 · 2 years

Text

Darkest Desires 🔥

137. "You like that, don't ya?"

139. "Dang, that mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble."

140. "If you're good, I'll let you play with my sias."

143. "You're wearing too much."

144. "You know what I want."

Welcome back, everyone! This is a special request from the Queen herself ;) @turtle-babe83

She requested Kink or Treat: Bloody Mary, Raphael style! She gave me the masters choice, so I have delivered. I hope you love this, Hon! Hopefully I didn't go overboard. 😅

🔞 Warning 🔞 NFSW 18+

Use of weapon, bondage, tentacle play, dacryphilia, overstimulation, body worship, praise kink, double penetration, Daddy kink, and feral Raphael.

"I-Is that all you've got, big guy?"

Raphael can't help but laugh as he hears your stutter, moans and whimpers come out of your lips as black mist like tentacles took hold of your body and used you for its own pleasure.

Goodness, you look so delectable.

Raphael took hold of your cheeks in his hand; your cheeks squished and lips turned into a pout, his eyes gleamed with pride knowing he was the one who gave you such bliss. A chuckle left him.

"Dang," he says as he watched as you orgasmed for the third time that night. "That mouth of yours is gonna get yourself in trouble."

He leaned in as he watched tears of pleasure run down your cheeks, making the turtle groan. "I wanna see you break, princess, and I'm not stopping until I say so."

Raph groaned as he woke up from his coma. His emerald eyes scanned the place as his eyes widened. He was sitting on the ground, chained to a metal pole as he looked down. At least his weapons are still there.

Where was he? He was with the others, then he was knocked unconscious.

The flooring and the roof are made out of wood; the shelving has really spooky intricacies that make it look like you're in some Resident Evil video game. Jars and other containers are filling the shelves and some with century old books. Some books look like they have seen better days. In the middle of the room was a black cauldron. Judging by the smoke illuminated from inside, someone must have recently been here. There was a window that was close to the door, the moon shining full in the night sky.

When he turned to his right he jumped when a black crow was sitting next to him, staring into his soul and making the brute feel uneasy.

Raph inclined his head as he tries to calm his racing heart.

Okay, Raphael, this is the plan. You're strong enough to break these chains. If you could break a concrete boulder, you can break through metal and iron. He thought to himself as he readied for breaking the chains.

"I wouldn't try that, if I were you."

Raph jerked out of his thoughts as a woman came into view from behind him. The woman was gorgeous. Dark, raven hair was in beautiful curls as she pulled her hood back. Her celestial blue eyes shine through the darkness as her red velvet dress swayed with her movements. Her heels clanked against the hardwood floor as she picked up a lantern from the table that was behind him to his left.

His green eyes held furrying rage as he stared down at the woman, who placed the lantern on top of the pedestal in front of the cauldron. "Who are you? And what do you want from me?"

"Oh, feisty. I always love men like you. I bet your soul is tasty as you look." The woman smiled wickedly. Her red lipstick makes her all the more gorgeous, yet eerie. Her voice is silky smooth and aged like fine wine.

Raph felt uncomfortable with her sentence. The only woman he preferred was Y/N. "Sorry, lady, but I'm not interested." Was his reply as he adjusted his posture. "And I don't appreciate you chaining me up either. So, we can either do this the easy way. Or, my vote, the hard way."

The woman laughed as her palm clutched her chest. "Oh, darling, you crack me up. The name is Olivia. Try to break those chains, I dare you."

Raph huffed as he yanked his arms, but the chains didn't break. Nor the metal pole that was attached to the wooden ceiling. His eyes widened in panic.

"Fascinating, is it not? Just a simple spell to keep the bonds and pole intact while you struggle for your life." She smiled as she went to the shelves, her finger pointing through the book titles. Her smile widened when she pulled one as she looked through the contents. "Perfect."

Raph watched her as his stomach felt queasy, his breathing rapid. It was like that time when he jumped off the plane a year ago. Panic and fear filled his being. What was she going to do to him? She was literally human!

Olivia hums as she reads whatever was in the book, turning page after page until her eyes widened with mischief.

"Tell me, Raphael, do you believe in demons?"

"I mean, I'm a walking-talking turtle. What else should I need to know?" Raph glared as his fist clenched.

"Oh, you will learn a lot more when you've become one yourself, my dear Raphael."

Then black smoke started to form from within the cauldron, making the turtle try to go backwards but couldn't when his shell hit the metal pole. He's trapped and can't do anything about it. He couldn't stand it. He doesn't like being held down, much less by a crazy witch who's gonna turn him into a demon.

Olivia started chanting a ritual as more of the black mist started to cover his being. He hissed as the burning sensation trickled from his legs to his thighs. Then his abdomen and his chest. When the mist fully covered him his body felt hot, almost like he needed to jump into some cold water. Soon his breathing picked up and growls came out of his throat as his hips jerked, his lower regions becoming all the more painful. Just when he let out growls and churrs, the lantern that was on the pedestal broke into pieces. Glass and metal scattered on to the floor as the woman had a shocked looking face. "My word!"

"W-What have you done to me?" His voice was rough and husky as his emerald eyes glowed from within the darkness.

"Just turned you into a demon. If you want to get technical, an incubus." She smirked as she closed the book. "Now, I feel like there's someone in your life. Someone who can fulfill all your fantasies. So, why not go ahead and take advantage of the new powers I have gifted to you?"

With that she snapped her fingers and the chains broke off from his wrists; the sound of metal hitting the floor and Raph reached for her, but Olivia waved her hand as he was flown from the room and out of the abandoned warehouse.

Olivia laughed as she watched him leave.

"Have fun, Raphael."

Y/N was sound asleep when she heard a noise from her room. Jerked awake, she looked around. There was nothing out of the ordinary and she sighed, shaking her head as she laid back onto her pillow.

Few minutes passed and she was about to go back to dreamland, until she felt hand touch her ankle and she jerked awake again. Turning on the lamp from her bedside table, there was nothing there yet she could feel eyes on her. Like someone was watching her.

Getting up from her bed she opened her bedroom door, looked around, and saw nothing. She waltzed towards her window, looked outside and saw nothing. Making sure she locked both the door and window.

She got into bed, turned off the light and covered herself. Whatever it was, it's gone now. Or she hoped it was.

Her phone rang and she groaned, turning onto her side and grabbed her phone. It was Leo. She answered it with a tired, "Hello?"

"Y/N, I apologize for waking you up but we have a problem." Leo's voice was serious, almost panicked as he spoke. "We can't find Raphael and it's been over an hour since we've last separated."

That woke her up as she sat up from her bed, back against the headboard. She checked her clock and it was after one in the morning. "What happened?"

"I don't know. We were doing our nightly rounds and we got separated. I thought he was with us, then when I turned around he was gone. Like he just disappeared out of thin air!"

"What's bad was I saw him next to me!" Mikey's voice came through the phone, probably having her on speaker. "But his expression doesn't look right, man! It's so creepy. Like his eyes weren't green, almost hollowed out and doesn't have eyes!"

"And his skin was darker than usual," Donnie commented. "It was like our brains were manipulated into seeing something that wasn't entirely there! Like a projection."

Y/N started to get weirded out. Not only did her beloved boyfriend disappear but also the guys were experiencing something out of the norm. Even if they are mutants, whatever they are seeing was something paranormal all together.

"And this only happened tonight, right?" She asked, the others affirmed with 'yes'. The woman rubbed her eyes as she could have sworn she saw something from the corner of her eye. "Okay. Retrace your steps: go to the place where you thought Raph looked normal and try to find anything that was left behind. Whoever took Raph has to be another mutant, right?"

"Hold on, Y/N, what kind of address did you give us?"

"Huh?" The woman was confused. She didn't mention any type of address and she was about to speak when Leo interrupted.

"I don't know what kind of address you gave us, but hopefully it'll give us some leads. We'll update you if we find anything." With that, Leo hung up.

Y/N was gonna call them back when her phone was thrown across the room, making the woman gasp as she climbed to the middle of her bed. She could hear the floors creak as she stared into the darkness but couldn't make out anything.

Then green emerald eyes glowed as she gasped inaudibly. His tall, broad stature was completely black as their eyes met. Y/N wanted to speak but nothing would come out, completely terrified as the figure's eyes stared her down.

"Y/N." His voice spoke, and it made your heart jump, felt like it's coming out of your throat. "Don't be afraid. It's me."

With a gulp of confidence - and saliva - she slowly eased off from the bed and walked towards the figure, still feeling uneasy. The woman never believed in the paranormal, yet she never believed in mutated turtles until she met one. Or never thought she will fall in love with one either.

Standing in front of the light where the window casted, she stood in front of the figure. Taking slow deep breaths, she said, "W-Who are you? And why are you in my house?"

The figure stepped back and raised its hands in surrender. "Woah, there, tiger. I'm not allowed to come see ya?" His voice teased, she could have sworn she saw him smirking.

Y/N eyes widened as she looked at the figure more carefully, taking in his words. This couldn't be who she thought it was, right? Testing out her theory she reached up to his hand and taking hold of it. Calluses ran inside of his palm as she trailed her eyes towards his bulky biceps and looked into his eyes once again. The green is more vibrant but there's no doubt on who this person was.

"Raphael?" She whispered as her eyes focused in the darkness and more of his figure became apparent. He looks just the same as ever, but his skin was darker than usual. It could be the lighting, but his eyes don't usually glow in the dark like this. "What's happened to you? Why aren't you with your brothers?"

Raphael snickered as he stood one foot to the other. "It's a long story, babe. But, right now," He smirked as he leaned in towards you, his lips barely brushing up against yours. "I want to have a taste of you."

With that she gasped as black mist like tentacles started to form and slowly eased towards her. "W-What is this?"

"A witch did this to me." He gruffed as he crossed his arms, making his arms and shoulders more broad. "Turned me into an incubus and now I want to have every single ounce of you, baby. Every cry, scream, moan and whimper you make will be mine. Every inch of your body belongs to me. I wanna hear you scream out my name when you come on my cock. To feel your insides squeeze me and fill you to the brim." His eyes sparked when he saw your breathing pick up speed. "How does that sound, babe?"

Oh. Good. Heavens.

Never in her life had she heard her boyfriend talk this much filth. He has talked dirty to her before, but this went above and beyond. She let out a whimper as she was affected by his words and the tentacles slowly wrapped around her legs. Only wearing pajama top and shorts she screeched as she was suddenly yanked above the floor, arms above her head and legs spread. Raphael growled deep within his throat as he took in this delicious sight.

"You like that, don't ya?" His voice became an octave deeper as he trailed his finger tips from her ankles to her calves. "To be manhandled by a mutant turtle-"

"Who's also my boyfriend, so you better watch what you say." Y/N snapped. She can't stand it when he downgrades himself. Raphael's perfect in every way. Yes, he has flaws but so does everyone on this earth. "You know I can't stand it when you downgrade yourself, Raphie."

His eyes widened but soon softened. "I don't deserve you, baby doll. I-I'm a hothead, stubborn and a freak! How can a beautiful woman date someone like me?"

"Raphael, look at me," It took a while but he did. Emerald eyes stared at her and she smiled gently. "I don't want anyone else, baby. Nobody can love me like you can, or touch me like you. And nobody will ever understand me like you can. You're always there for me when I need you. I choose you because I love all of you, Raphael. Flaws and all, and you love me just the same. We're in this together and I'm not leaving. I will tell you again and again if I had to. I love you, Raphael."

The red clad turtle bit his lip as tears welled up in his eyes. Yes he's loved by his brothers and father, but something feels different knowing there's someone else besides family who has confessed their love to you.

"You may be hot headed, but you're my big softy. My big teddy bear when I need to cuddle and cry on." He chuckled as memories came to his mind. He's definitely a teddy bear, the only time he will ever admit it was in private. He would never hear the end of it when his brothers were around.

He leaned towards her and kissed her forehead, cheeks, nose. Anywhere on her face he would kiss, making the woman squeal in delight. "I love you more, babe. So much more than you will ever know." He's not good with words but he's a man of action and Raphael's a man on a mission. "But I do have something to tell ya though."

When Y/N tilted her head to the side, the man chuckled. "You're wearing too much."

A gasp escaped her as Raphael used his sias and cut off her clothes without a scratch on her. Her scent more apparent, he inhaled as a deep groan rumbled from within his chest. "Gods, you smell good."

"Raphie, please."

"Call me Daddy."

Oh, goodness gracious. That was hot!

A moan rumbled from her throat as the tentacles slowly made its way towards her breasts and tweaked them. She tried to close her legs but couldn't as the mist held them in their place. Raph smirked as one tentacle slithered towards her sex and rubbed her clit, the other teasing her entrance.

"This is definitely a sight to see." And with that he leaned against the wall, enjoying the show as his baby doll was being used. He shifted his legs as he felt uncomfortable in his pants. Gosh how he wants to rip them off, but not right now.

He wants to see Y/N quivering in ecstasy.

"If you're good, I'll let you play with my sias." He chuckled as he twirled his weapon in his hand. "Or, better yet, I'll let ya play with cock."

Y/N moaned out as the tentacle sunk deep within her. Two playing with her nipples, one teasing her clit and the other slowly yet torturously going in and out from her sex. And it's not his size. She wanted him badly. "D-Daddy, please. I need you!"

"If you're still talking, my friends aren't doin' ya right. Pick up the pace boys." Raph commanded as your screams echoed throughout the bedroom. Wet sounds emitted from your core and you can't help but to clench as your orgasm was coming closer with every thrust.

"That's it, baby. You're doing so good for Daddy." He praised as he bit his lip as he watched you reach your climax. "You can handle another, right?"

He didn't give her enough time to reply when she felt another tentacle reach her back end, it's slick enough as it teased her rim.

"Come on, baby. Give me another." After he said that, she came again. Just being overstimulated like this was driving her mad. "That's my girl."

Oh, how she whimpered from the praise.

"What do you want, princess?" Raph asked as he pushed himself from the wall and walked towards her trembling body. She wailed in ecstasy as a tentacle slowly pryes it's way inside her anal canal. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head and both of her holes had been filled.

"Y-You know what I want." She spoke once again and Raph 'tsked'. With that look, she knew that he wasn't done with her.

"You can still speak," He gruffed as he took off his pants. His throbbing cock now free from confinement, taking grasp in his hand and stroking it. Groans left his throat as he touched himself. "Pull her mouth towards me."

With that, the tentacles maneuvered her as she was now faced with his throbbing pendage.

"Let's see how it feels with all three of your holes being used, hm?"

The pleasure was non-stop. She lost count on how many times she came, but all she knew was that she's been filled to the brim from her sex as Raphael pounded into her like a feral animal. He came in her throat, on her stomach, back and now he's claimed her womb with his essence twice.

She could feel his seed exited from within her and spilled to the floor below them. All she could do was scream and wail, and she was about to lose her voice.

Whenever he tells her to speak and she replies with words, he wasn't having it. Raphael was making sure she cannot speak properly. He wants to do his job right.

The tentacles still working on her breasts and her anal canal, but Raph owned her sex. Claiming it his property.

"You're taking my cock so good, baby doll. Just look at you. Eyes rollin' and everything." He groaned as he continuously thrust into every spot from within her. "Tell me, baby. Who do you belong to?"

All she could do was moan out and he smirked. "That's my good girl. Gosh, I love you so much!"

With that, she came for the final time as he roared from his orgasm. More of his essence spilled from within her and fell to the floor, but none of them cared. They both relinquish the feeling of their bodies joined together at this moment.

With that, he finally pulled away from her as the tentacles slowly left the woman's body and Raphael held her in his arms. "You did so well, baby. I love you so much."

Y/N groaned as she tried to feel her arms but couldn't as her body was made out of jelly. Raphael officially screwed her brains out. When she looked up, his eyes no longer glowing in the darkness and his skin not the darker shade.

He's back to normal.

"Come on, princess. Let's get ya to the bath." Raph carried his woman to the bathroom and started filling up the tub. Water the perfect temperature, he gently placed her down inside. He added some bubbles for her enjoyment. "Let me grab ya some water, okay?"

All she could do was nod tiredly as she watched him walk out of the bathroom. The water was so warm and she could fall asleep.

When Raph came back with water, his eyes melted as he saw her sleeping form. Her head resting on the side as little snores emitted from her lips. He placed the glasses down and rubbed her head, placing a kiss to her forehead.

"Goodnight, baby. I'll be here when you wake up."

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@leosgirl82 @exovapor @thelaundrybitch

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🔞 REBLOGS ONLY, NO REPOST 🔞

#dilucsflame33 #tmnt 2014 #tmnt 2016 #tmnt bayverse #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt raphael #tmnt raph x reader #tmnt bayverse raphael #bayverse raphael smut #raphael x reader #raphael x reader smut

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archivomeow · 1 month

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yelena belova is aroace.

Yelena Belova is canonically aroace.

Lately people dismissing that has been getting on my nerves VERY much, so I’m making this post lol.

First the terminology:

Aromantic — an individual who doesn’t experience romantic attraction.

Asexual — an individual that doesn’t experience sexual attraction.

AroSpec — spectrum that includes different aromantic identities, from aros who don’t feel romantic attraction to those who do under certain circumstances or rarely.

AceSpec — spectrum that includes different asexual identities, from aces who don’t feel sexual attraction to those who do under certain circumstances or rarely.

So first thing i will put here is this;

This in my humble opinion should be enough of a proof, but apparently it is not.

First this part of an interview, the person speaking is a creator/co-creator of Yelena. She says she is most likely to identify as asexual than to follow Nat’s romantic path. Hinting at both aro & ace.

So in the comics Yelena shows no interest dating, as far as i am aware she has no romantic interest in the comics. She is repulsed by sex, she calls herself „nothing” referring to her sexual identity.

As much as many like to say she is a lesbian, she is not, how fucking stupid you sound, honestly. She says it herself, if I said I’m not a lesbian, would you question it? No? Then don’t question her, she says she is not a lesbian, she has no wlw storyline. Drop the fucking lesbian hc.

Some possible foreshadowing in the MCU

1. When she is talking with a widow and a former Ana (show: Hawkeye), there is a line said by the widow accompanying her: „…you and Natasha can be reunited again and live your sex in the city fantasy”.

^ Yelena leaves the room, as soon as the word „sex” is mentioned her face drops, then we have this scene where she’s looking at herself in the mirror.

2. When talking about kids and family (movie: Black Widow) she mentions she wants a dog.

3. When describing „fake story” of her life she made up because her birth certificate was burnt she says Natasha has a husband and talks about her parents, but mentions nothing about her husband or possible spouses or children. (movie: Black Widow)

4. Yelena tends to wear a lot of aro/ace flag colors.

green coat & purple lipstick (green = aro | purple = ace)

yellow & blue colors = aroace flag

Overall Yelena wears a lot of green and white and black together, aromantic flag colors.

^^ can you call that „over the top?” yeah sure… let me remind yall something else:

when enid wore this sweather yall went WILD.

but when Yelena is wearing aroace colors all the time it’s called „reaching”…?

I will continue this with even more, because while you can agree with me and say she is aroace, still there will be people who claim she is aroace, agree, but then this fucking argument comes into place:

„AROS CAN DATE”

„ACES CAN FUCK”

„QPRS EXIST”

Do you see what’s wrong with those sentences? Nothing.

There’s a „but” thoooo…

There is nothing wrong with those, but using those arguments to totally ignore her sexuality ship her and treat her like suddenly she is allo is not it.

Yelena has shown no interest in dating or sex, we can assume she is sex-repulsed as she has shows repulsion to sex and she is to me at least implied to be romance-repulsed.

And we’ve found the problem.

Sex Repulsed Aces are as you can imagine repulsed by sex. Romance Repulsed Aros are repulsed by romance… So how is someone repulsed by said things engaging in said interaction and is not repulsed by them???

I think it’s a great idea to write her into said situations to show she is repulsed and to show it’s okay, because her life, my life, the lives of other uninterested in such thing aro/ace, our lives don’t end here.

Using how some people navigate through their sexuality to justify this is wrong.

You wouldn’t write a lesbian with a man, because bi lesbians exist and she may be a bi lesbian, right?

^ just an fyi, that’s an example, the term bi-lesbian is extremely harmful to both bisexuals and lesbians. check out this for more.

The QPR dilemma is that you don’t understand what a QPR is… it’s not more than friends…it’s not in the middle, it’s out of the regular binary of relationships. Relationships I actually think are QPRs:

Friends with benefits — purely platonic, but you fuck.

Situationship — just friends that do romantic stuff together, unless you call it a romantic relationship, with the other person agreeing on that, it is not one.

QPRs are amazing and beautiful, but it’s not always about fucking and kissing and „acting like a couple” but being a QPR. It can be being friends and living together, not temporary. It can be being friends and co-parenting. It can be many things.

But as I said Yelena is repulsed, why would someone repulsed by sex/romance engage in said thing happily with no doubts, fears, negative feelings just because it’s a qpr, so it’s suddenly fine…?

This is for now all I have to say about this.

As an AroAce, who desires no romantic relationship or a sexual one please please please let us have this representation, for once in our fucking lives.

MORE OF MY POSTS ON YELENA BEING AROACE AND ARO/ACE LINKS LINKED HERE:

answering an anon-ask.

more talk about the comic panel.

harmful aro stereotypes.

shipping aroaces + yelena belova.

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lionlena · 11 months

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I was wondering that if you took ideas for your takes on stuff or such-

i was wondering what do you think pedro pascal characters (and pedro himself) opinion on their wife/girlfriend/crush whatever wearing makeup to feel pretty! sorry to bother lol :)

You don't bother me at all, Honey❤️‍

Umm, it's so tricky, but let's try it.

Headcanon: How will they react to your makeup? (Pedro Pascal and his characters) 👁️👄💅

Joel Miller

In times of a pandemic, it's not that easy to find cosmetics, so when you put on make-up, he knows it's a special occasion or that you need it to make yourself feel better. That's why he always showers you with compliments when he sees you have makeup. He's not some kind of expert in this field, so his compliments sound a bit strange at times. "You did your eyelashes nicely… Your eyes are so, um, expressive." But you know he really loves it. And if he accidentally finds some lipstick somewhere and he gives it to you, no one needs to know ;)

Javier Peña

He definitely loves it when you have your lips (and nails) painted. Yes, red lips are his weakness. You can wear only lipstick and Javi will go crazy. He'll beg you to kiss his neck, and if you accidentally leave a mark on his white shirt… he'll be drunk with happiness👄. Javier also doesn't pay much attention to whether you have light or heavy makeup, he thinks you always look beautiful. And of course, if you use a new lipstick color, he will notice it immediately ;)

Oberyn Martell

He likes your makeup because he likes to brag about you. You are his treasure. Don't get me wrong, if you don't wear makeup, he'll also praise you and kiss you all over your body, but… Makeup is also a symbol of wealth. Poor women don't wear makeup. That's why Oberyn will make sure you have all the cosmetics and perfumes you need. If you do makeup without the help of the servants, he will immediately notice it and praise you for doing it better than them. He loves having you by his side in a beautiful dress, jewelry, and perfect makeup. He'll pull you possessively to his body and make sure all of Westeros knows he loves you.

Javi Gutierrez

Come on… He's obsessed with makeup, especially professional makeup. If you ask him, he will become your personal make-up artist without hesitation. And of course, be prepared for experiments: "peacock eye", lips in two colors… He will be delighted and will thank you for your trust.

Agent Whiskey (Jack Daniels) (because @creedslove wouldn't forgive me if I forget about him, again)

I don't think he likes heavy makeup and he'll tell you that. He's painfully honest. But on the other hand, if he says you've done your makeup beautifully, you can be sure he's telling the truth. And don't count on him, recognizing light makeup from no makeup at all. If you're wearing natural makeup, he'll kiss you on the cheek and say, "Sugar, you look beautiful even when you don't wear makeup."

Din Djarin

Does makeup exist in space? Sure, but it doesn't impress Din much. You know, he's seen it all. People with purple skin, with yellow, green… Besides, when he's wearing a helmet, he can't see your whole face anyway. But he will certainly be curious when he notices that you are doing makeup. He will ask questions and watch you closely. But don't ask him for advice. He will say that you are better at it anyway and you look beautiful in all colors.

And last (but not least) Pedro Pascal

Oh well. Pedro obviously knows a lot about makeup. He himself has to use it sometimes, or rather someone uses make-up on him. And he has two sisters, so makeup is no secret to him. He definitely pays attention to it. He will praise you when he notices new eyeshadows or a different color of lipstick. But he definitely doesn't support the social pressure for women to wear makeup. Want to go to a movie premiere without makeup? Here you go. He will say that you are beautiful the way you are and you have the right to be yourself.

I hope you liked it :)

#answer ask #pedro pascal #pedro pascal headcanon #pedro pascal characters #joel miller #the last of us #javier pena #narcos #oberyn martell #the game of thrones #javi gutierrez #the unbearable weight of massive talent #agent whiskey #kingsman the golden circle #din djarin #the manadalorian #headcanon #makeup #asks

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thatrickmcginnis · 11 months

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These photos of Robert Smith of The Cure sat forgotten in a negative binder for over 35 years until I rediscovered them last fall while looking for something else. I had, in fact, done my level best to forget about them, as they were evidence of what I remembered as a massive fail made during my earliest years working as a photographer. They were a major stumble on a steep learning curve, and I was sure all evidence had been lost. But let's start at the beginning, when I was assigned to interview Robert Smith and The Cure when they were passing through town on what was apparently called the Beach Party Tour, playing the Kingswood Music Theatre just outside Toronto on July 13, 1986 with 10,000 Maniacs opening.

Another writer at the magazine, Perry Stern, was a huge Cure fan and phoned begging me to let him do the interview; I agreed, provided I still got to take the photos. (I also asked if he could give me a ride to and from the venue.) I had an idea: I'd seen an article in a photography magazine showing how you could get interesting colour washes on your backgrounds by putting complimentary coloured filters in front of your lens and flash. This might have produced interesting results if I bothered doing a test shoot, but I was too cheap/rushed/arrogant for that sort of thing, so I showed up with green and red filters on my Pentax Spotmatic and my Vivitar flash and shot away in a fenced-off grassy area beside the stage.

It's worth talking about the unusual look Robert Smith was rocking during at least part of 1986 - trainers and golf shirts and jeans and short hair. If I still had the transparencies I shot that day including the rest of the band I'd be able to tell you if the Cure as a whole were taking a vacation from their Goth image and dressed down similarly, and if this was one of the few artifacts attesting to a brief sportswear period in the band's history. But the results were awful - overexposed, with a greenish tint, mostly because I had no clue what the ideal ratio between the bright sunlight and the flash strength should have been. The magazine might have reluctantly printed one remotely salvageable frame but my ambition had definitely overstripped my skill and I tried to forget about this shoot.

But at some point a few months after my disastrous Cure shoot I thought I might be able to salvage the results by converting the slides to black and white negatives. I either found someone who could produce an internegative or borrowed the gear to do it myself, but inexperience won again and the four portraits of Robert Smith that I produced were too overexposed for me to work with all those years ago, so I filed them at the bottom of a negative sheet and forgot about them.

Until last fall when I found them again and decided to see if they could be saved with scanning and the neural filters that were recently added to Photoshop. The film grain that was so hard to deal with back in 1986 suddenly became a feature, adding to the retro feel the shots had acquired either with time or in my own mind. With some judicious application of the restoration filter these frames cleaned up nicely, but I decided to push things one stop further by using the colorizing filter as well - making sure Smith's signature smeared lipstick wasn't just retained but highlighted. Now I like to imagine that these shots were taken in 1937 with an old Kodak folding camera like my Jiffy Six-20, and hand-coloured by some underpaid darkroom assistant working for a developing lab in a building down in the warehouse district of town. It's certainly a better story than the one about the kid photographer who screwed up on a big job nearly forty years ago.

#robert smith #the cure #1986 #portrait photography #portrait #photography #photographer #film photography #portraiture #black and white #old photos #early work #adobe photoshop #ai filter

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nerdieforpedro · 4 months

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WIP Wednesday

Welp after this week, there will be one more week of Sard’ika Sessions. I’m kinda proud that after next week, I’ll have actually completed a series. A great way to start the new year. 😆 This week is session five so we’re almost done Space Buddies! Thanks for sticking with me this long. I appreciate you all. ❤️

As for an actual preview of something, I decided on two things, one is from a pending new series with Dave York (Nerdie, you never finished the old one.) One doesn’t dwell on the past and we move forward!

An email comes Monday, a member of your new department would like to meet with you, give you materials to prep before starting the job. Seems fine, legit if you will. You did check with your old manager to make sure and they assured you that this Dave York is who your contact is. You weren’t sure if you should dress casually or business like for this meeting. It was your week off, you decided to wear your favorite dark green long sleeve button down dress with black flats. A mix of business and play if need be. Hair tied up and a tight bun with your favorite bright pink lipstick, may not have been business but you liked it, that’s what mattered. York had emailed you and told you to meet you for brunch, at least you’re getting food.

The second is a second helping of Mr. York! There were a few Pedro men on the brain but Dave came out ahead and maybe, just maybe I’m finishing my first Dave York series. 😘

“No. Not right now. Just let me…Fuck.” Dave whispered to himself. Her concern and confusion were understandable, but he didn’t care. “You want to know how I really feel about you. What I really think Peach? Fine.” He placed his bloody hand on the back of her neck, pulling her in for a kiss. She didn’t react at first, but her fingers found their way into the loops of his cargo pants. It could have been the frustration at not really saying what they meant or that they had just been arguing but as their tongues danced, they crept toward the bed falling onto it and laughing at how absurd the situation was. It was then that Kiara initiated the kiss this time, grabbing Dave’s shoulders and pinning him under her. But after a few more make out sessions they both fell asleep in their clothes. Greeted by the sunlight of a new day.

I may also be marinating some more WIPs:

Frankie (haven’t decided if subby Frankie will be back or another Frankie will appear. He’s like a Pokémon - gotta catch ‘em all!)

Joel (might be Joel & Layla with them being sweet, might be a darker Joel I thought about in the QZ. My mood will determine that.)

Din (which Sard’ika ending soon, I do plan on one or two epilogues and working on one of four Din WIPs)

Santiago (haven’t written for the man but I do have bullet points and Tom slander 😆)

Dieter (Weddings 101 with Dieter shall continue! Daisy will be back and so will Oscar for more beef. In case you haven’t voted on the poll for chapter 4, click here.)

Well all, I talked a whole bunch. Dave and I have appointments to keep and to use these sheets and gasoline. ⛽️ Yes will wear a mask, you never forget THAT smell. 👃

No pressure tags: @saturn-rings-writes @megamindsecretlair @secretelephanttattoo @rhoorl @trulybetty @maggiemayhemnj @fhatbhabie @theywhowriteandknowthings @frenchiereading @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @javierpena-inatacvest @goodwithcheese @soft-persephone @soft-girl-musings @morallyinept @pamasaur @perotovar @chronically-ghosted

#pedro pascal characters #fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #din djarin #joel miller #frankie morales #dieter bravo #the mandalorian #dave york #santiago garcia

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a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 1 year

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Make Me Forget

Winter Whumperland 2022: Day 8. Unexpected Kindness Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Jake "Hangman" Seresin, f!reader, former Bob x reader

Summary: Soon after a tragedy strikes, Jake finds you at his door late one night. Will he do what he has always dreamt of and you are now begging him for? Or will he find the strength to do what is right?

Word Count: 4300

TW: Emotional Angst, Grief, Death of a Loved One, Main Character Death, Tears, Drunk Reader makes bad decisions, Intoxicated Kiss, Tattoo

Notes: Thank you to @lorecraft and @green-socks for talking me through this and their support! I love you guys!

Sequel to No Laughing Matter but can also be read as a stand-alone piece.

As Jake poured his third glass of bourbon of the night, he was starting to regret not taking Coyote up on his offer to go to the movies with him and his new girlfriend. There wasn’t anything interesting playing, but it would have been nice to take his mind off of things and just mindlessly watch some robots blow some shit up or whatever for two and a half hours. But instead, he was sitting alone in a dimly lit room with only his drink for company. Not his smartest idea, but he just didn’t know how to act around his best friend at the moment.

For the past eight months, Jake had been on an extended medical leave back in Texas after he was injured in a training exercise. The break was actually doing him a lot of good. He had forgotten what it felt like to not have to try to be the best all the time. For the first time since joining the Naval Academy straight out of high school, he let himself relax and didn’t worry about how he compared to those around him. He stopped cutting his hair and grew a beard, both things he was never allowed to do while on active duty. It felt like he had control over everything in his life for once. That was until he had gotten the phone call.

Which was how he found himself staying in this rental house back in California a month before he was to be cleared for active duty. Though they had kept in contact through texts and emails, he hadn’t expected to be in person with the entire Dagger Squad again this soon. Or at least…. almost the entire squad.

Downing the rest of his glass of bourbon, he reached for the bottle to pour another when a knock on his door drew his attention. At almost one a.m., he had no idea who it could be. Only a few people even knew where he was staying, and he had made it clear he wanted to be left alone tonight.

Throwing the door open, Jake inhaled sharply as he saw the last person he expected standing just outside. “Wh-what are you doing here?”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, hello to you too, Jake. You sure know how to make a girl feel wanted.”

“No, I’m sorry. I was just surprised to see you here. Especially this late.”

Neither of you spoke for a long moment, each just staring at the other. Jake hadn’t seen you since the service a few days ago but you looked even worse than you had then. Your hair was a mess, your lipstick was smudged, and your eyes looked sunken and bloodshot. It wouldn’t surprise Jake if he learned you hadn’t slept more than a few hours over the last few days. Not that he would have blamed you.

Finally, you broke the silence and asked, “You gonna make me keep standing out here, or are you gonna let me in?”

“Oh, right, sorry.” Jake held the door open wider as you pushed past him into the house. “How’d you get here? You didn’t drive, did you?”

You scoffed. “No. Do you really think I’m that irresponsible? Phoenix put me in a car after she made me leave the bar. The guy was driving past and I remembered you were staying here while you were in town.” You stumbled slightly as you walked around the small space examining the decor. It was clear why Phoenix sent you home for the night, though Jake was surprised she hadn’t insisted on going with you.

You spotted the still-open bottle of bourbon sitting on the table and grabbed at it, almost knocking it off the table. Without even trying to look for a glass, you pressed it to your lips and took a long swig. You grimaced as you swallowed yet raised the bottle for a second drink, but Jake placed his hand on your wrist before you could.

He gently eased the bottle out of your hand and set it back down. Running his hand lightly up and down your arm, he asked, “Not that it isn’t great to see you and all, but whatcha doing here, sweetheart? It’s late and it looks like you’ve already had an exciting night. Maybe you should just be heading home. I can drive you.” He reconsidered as he remembered the three glasses of bourbon he had drank that night. “Well, I can make sure you get home safely.”

“I don’t wanna go home,” you muttered faintly as you ran your fingers through the few drops of bourbon that had fallen onto the table. “I came here for you. I want you to do what you said…. last year in the bar.”

Jake’s brow furrowed as he tried to remember what you might be talking about. “I say a lot of things. You wanna give me a hint which one you’re talking about?”

Awkwardly removing your jacket and letting it fall to the floor behind you, you took a step closer causing Jake to step back so you didn’t bump into his chest. “You said one night was all it would take. That after one night with you, I would forget his name. I’m here so you can help me forget.”

Jake felt all the blood drain from his face as he realized what you were talking about. The night in the Hard Deck when he had gotten very drunk and tried to fight Bob. Not that it had been much of a fight considering Bob had laid him out with a single punch, but Jake had still felt awful about it. He apologized to both you and Bob the next day and it seemed like that night had been pretty much forgotten by everyone involved. But he guessed he was wrong….

Jake placed his hands on your now bare shoulders. “Sweetheart, you know I didn’t mean that. It was a stupid, drunken mistake that–”

“You meant it.” Your tone wasn’t harsh or accusing, just matter-of-fact. You took yet another step closer. “You’ve wanted me since the first day we met, don’t deny it. And you can try to brush off all your comments as teasing but I saw the look in your eye when you made them. You meant every word. But that’s okay. Because tonight, I’m giving you exactly what you’ve always wanted.”

You slammed your lips against Jake’s, catching him by surprise as you pushed him back against the wall. Your hands threaded through his long locks, grabbing hold and using them to pull him even deeper into your lips. Jake could taste the strong sting of alcohol on your breath as your tongue slipped clumsily into his mouth and he froze, unsure of what to do.

For just a second, he considered it. He had dreamt about you often since the day Bob introduced you, and they were always the sort of dreams where he couldn’t look Bob in the eye for a few hours afterward. Yet he had resigned himself to the fact that even if you and Bob ever broke up, you weren’t the kind of girl to go for someone like him. So this, this kiss, this chance, it was more than he ever hoped for.

And yet the second you slid your knee up to rub against the growing bulge in his pants, he snapped out of it. Grabbing your wrists, he gently untangled your hands from his hair and eased you off of him. Your eyes darted across his face, so desperate and confused as to why he pulled away that he almost lost his resolve and pressed his lips against yours once more.

Panting slightly, he whispered, “We can’t do this. I–I can’t do this.”

“Why not? It’s what you always wanted.”

“I can’t,” Jake whispered again, shaking his head.

Running your thumb over his cheek, tears began to roll down your face as you whispered back, “Yes, you can. It doesn’t matter anymore. He’s gone, Jake. He’s gone, and I’m falling apart without him. I just need someone right now. I need you. I need you to take me back into the bedroom and do what you’ve always wanted, just…. just make me forget. Please. Just for tonight. I just need this pain to go away for just one goddamn night.”

You leaned forward again but he shifted slightly so instead of your lips meeting, your foreheads did. Pressing firmly against you, Jake closed his eyes and took several long, deep breaths before he muttered, “Please don’t ask me again. I’m not a good enough man to deny you a third time. You’re right, I’ve always wanted you. I still want you. But not like this. We both deserve better than that.” Jake opened his eyes and stared directly into yours. “He deserves better than that.”

You jerked your head back as if he had slapped you, rapidly blinking in shock. Releasing him, you stumbled back from the wall, turning your back to him. When you finally faced him once more, Jake could tell some of the alcohol-induced fog had lifted. Tears were streaming down your face more quickly now and your bottom lip was quivering so hard, he could almost hear your teeth chattering.

Wrapping your arms across your chest, you sobbed, “What am I doing? He’s been gone for only a little over a week and I’m already throwing myself at one of his best friends.”

Jake wasn’t sure if you were just being hyperbolic in the heat of the moment, but hearing you call him “one of his best friends” caused a knot to form in Jake’s chest. But he ignored his own pain and tried to gather you into his arms, “It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s okay.”

You struggled to free yourself from his embrace. “No, it’s not! I promised him I’d never do something like this. That he was the only one I ever wanted to be with. And now…. Now I almost–” Another wailing sob ripped through you, cutting off the rest of your words.

Jake didn’t know what to do. In fact, he’d been having a harder time than expected dealing with what happened. As unrealistic as it was, Jake couldn’t help but wonder if things would have been different if he had been back from leave and flying with the squad. Maybe he could have provided cover for Phoenix and Bob’s plane. Maybe that lucky bullet from the enemy wouldn’t have broken through the canopy and struck Bob in the neck. Maybe then he wouldn’t have bled out before Phoenix could even land the plane.

But all the what-ifs and could-have-been’s in the world wouldn’t change the fact that Bob was dead, and you were currently falling apart in Jake’s arms. However, where Jake might not have been there to help Bob then, he damn sure was going to do everything in his power to help you now.

“Sweetheart, look at me. Look at me!” You stopped struggling and gazed helplessly into Jake’s eyes. “I can’t be your Band-Aid to try to stop the pain, but you did nothing wrong tonight. It was only just a kiss and even if it had gone farther, you wouldn’t have been breaking any promises to him. Even in marriage, these things are only ‘til death do us part’, right? You held up your end of the bargain and he would understand. He would want you to be happy.”

“But I’m not! How am I ever supposed to be happy again when Bob is gone! We had our whole lives planned out together. He was going to propose and leave the Navy after his next tour so we could start a family. But now it’s all gone and I don’t know what to do.”

All of the fight suddenly went out of you, and you collapsed limply into Jake’s arms. Holding you tightly, Jake slowly sank to the floor and pulled you into his lap. Balling your fists into his shirt, you clung to him frantically as your body was wracked with sobs. There was nothing Jake could do but hold you tight and remind you that you weren’t alone.

After what seemed like hours, your sobs softened into sniffles before you eventually fell silent. Finally, you whispered, “Jake, how do I do this? It’s just too big. How do I deal with it?”

He took a deep breath and held it for a second before slowly releasing it. “I honestly don’t know. I guess you just take it one day at a time. It’s the best any of us can do. But you’re not alone. Let your friends help you through this.”

“Is that what we are, Jake? Friends?”

“I’d like to think so.” There was a moment of silence before Jake asked, “Why did you really come here tonight? To me. Was it just because you were driving by or….”

“You weren’t supposed to be this noble,” you chuckled dryly. “I thought out of everyone… Coyote has his new girlfriend, Fanboy and Payback can barely look at me right now, and Rooster’s been glued to Phoenix’s side all week. She’s trying to be strong for me but I know how much she is hurting too and he’s really helped her deal with things. So, that left you. And with your reputation and your little thing for me, I thought it was a full-proof plan. I guess I underestimated you. I’m sorry.”

“No, I guess that’s fair. You were right when you said I wanted you and that there was some truth behind my jokes and teasing. But I hope you know I would never have actually done anything. I wouldn’t have done that to Bob.”

You smiled softly as you linked your fingers with his before squeezing his hand. “I know. And so did he. He never minded your flirting because he said he knew at the end of the day you would never actually try it or make a move. And that I would never try anything either. So he just ignored it.” You shook your head softly. “God, how could someone have been so good?”

“I don’t know.” Jake wiped a tear off your cheek. “But he loved you so much. You were all he ever talked about when we were on a mission, just getting back to you. And Phoenix says your name was the last thing he said before…”

“She told me. I just wish I had been able to say goodbye.” Your voice broke and Jake pulled you tightly against his chest as your tears began to fall once more.

But they didn’t last very long. All of your crying must have taken a lot out of you because as your sobs began to dwindle and fade, Jake felt you slowly sagging in his arms. When he glanced down, he saw your eyes drooping further and further. The tears, alcohol, and late hour of night were all catching up to you and it wouldn’t be long before you had passed out completely.

Jake carefully helped get you to your feet before rising off the floor himself. His legs were numb from the way he was sitting, but he tried his best to ignore the sensation as he led you toward the bedroom.

“Where are we goin’?” you mumbled sleepily, your head leaning against his shoulder as he guided you.

“It’s late and I think it’s best if you stay here tonight. You can take my room and I’ll stay out on the couch. That way you can have the bed and a door with a lock if you want it.”

You chuckled softly without lifting your head. “Jake, I literally tried to force myself onto you tonight, and you turned me down. I think I can trust you not to sneak into the room while I’m sleeping.”

“True, but whatever makes you the most comfortable.”

He helped you climb into bed and covered you with his blanket. Almost immediately, your eyes fluttered closed and your breathing slowed. For just a moment, Jake stood there watching you sleep. You looked so relaxed and peaceful, that he wondered what you were dreaming about. It probably involved a blue-eyed, glasses-wearing WSO, or at least, he hoped it did.

Leaning over, Jake softly pressed his lips to the top of your head as he whispered, “Good night, sweetheart.”

Then he quietly backed out of the room and went to try to make the couch as comfortable as possible.

The sound of the front door clicking shut woke Jake the next morning. After raising his head slightly and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he saw a note and a still-steaming cup of coffee on the table in front of him. Sitting up, he brought the coffee to his lips as he read the note. It was short and sweet: Thanks for what you did…. and didn’t do.

Jake didn’t hear anything from you after that. He tried to text a few times, but you never responded. He talked to Phoenix so at least he knew you had made it home okay after you left his place, but that was all the information she would give him.

Days went by and he was just starting to think that he would never see or hear from you again when a knock sounded at his front door. And just like a few nights earlier, he opened it to see you standing there.

This time, you looked more like the you he remembered from before Bob’s death. The bags under your eyes weren’t as pronounced, your clothes looked more put together, and when you smiled at him as he opened the door, there was actually some light in your eyes. “Hey.”

“Hey….” he said as he leaned heavily on the door. “I’ve been thinking about you. How are you?”

“Um, better, I think. Still not good, and I don’t even know if I’ll ever be good again, but I guess progress is progress. Just taking it one day at a time, right?”

He smiled. “Yeah. One day at a time.”

There was a long pause before you said, “You really don’t like inviting me in, do you?”

“Oh! Sorry. Come in.” Jake stepped to the side, allowing you to pass by him, your arm lightly brushing his chest as you did. Once you were inside, he closed the door and asked, “So, uh, what can I do for you, sweetheart?”

With your back to him, you said, “I wanted to thank you for the other night. I wasn’t in a good place and I had been drinking and I made some bad decisions. And while I’m still not in a good place, now that I’m sober I’m mortified about said decisions. But the way you handled it….” You turned to face him, your lip quivering slightly. “Honestly, Jake, I don’t know how I would have ever forgiven myself if I woke up the next morning and realized we had gone through with it. Just thinking about it makes me physically ill.”

“Damn. I don’t think I would have been that bad in bed,” Jake scoffed, but he gave you a wide grin to let you know he was joking.

You smiled softly. “I’m sure you would have been exceptional. And I have no doubt that you could have lived up to your promise of making me forget everyone and everything but you in that moment.” Your face fell. “But after, when I did remember,…. It would have destroyed me. And I’m not saying I’ll never sleep with anyone ever again, but doing it that night– for that reason– would have felt like such a betrayal to Bob’s memory. So thank you for stopping me. I’m sure it wasn’t an easy decision to make.”

Jake ran his hand over the back of his neck. “I won’t lie and say part of me doesn’t regret not going through with it just a little bit, but overall I’m also glad it didn’t happen. When you feel like it’s time to take that step, you have every right to sleep with whoever you want and you’ll have nothing to feel guilty for. But I agree that night wasn’t the best time for it.”

“No, it wasn’t.” You shifted slightly as you looked at the floor. “I, uh, I was having an extra hard time that night because the Navy finally gave me a box of Bob’s stuff and I found a receipt where he had put a down payment on a ring.”

Inhaling sharply, Jake said, “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head. “It’s okay. We had talked about it a lot and I knew he was going to propose soon, I just wasn’t expecting that soon. It just made me think about all of the plans we had made that won’t ever happen now and…. I tried to drink the pain away but when that didn’t happen, I turned to you. It’s not an excuse for why I did what I did, but I thought you should have a little more context for why it happened.”

“No context needed. You got drunk and tried to sleep with the first available person you found. Who hasn’t been there?” You reached out and took his hand, giving it a small squeeze of thanks. The shift in your position drew Jake’s attention to something he hadn’t noticed before. He nodded towards the gauze poking out of the bottom of your shirt sleeve. “Didya do something to your arm?”

A soft smile spread across your lips as you glanced down at the floor. “I did, actually. I thought a lot about the other night and you made me realize that no matter how painful it is, I never want to forget Bob…. ever. I love him and I will always love him and I don’t want to forget a second of our time together or what he means to me. So, I found a way to keep a constant reminder of that with me always.”

Slowly, you rolled up your sleeve and unwrapped the gauze from your arm, revealing a vibrant tattoo underneath that hadn’t been there the other night. It was a heart made out of a thin branch or vine covered with leaves and small, five-petal blue flowers accented with yellow centers. It was a delicate design that perfectly fit the curvature of your arm.

“Wow. That looks amazing. Remind me to ask for your guy’s number if I ever decide to get more ink.”

Jake reached out to touch the design but hesitated as you whispered, “They’re forget-me-nots.”

He glanced at your face which was still smiling though he could see a hint of moisture collecting in your eyes. When you gave him a small nod, he let his fingers gently graze the tender skin of your freshly inked arm. It was only then that he noticed the small, faint lettering on the stem at the bottom of the heart: BOB.

Running his thumb over the letters, Jake said, “He would’ve loved this.”

“I think he would’ve too.” You ran your finger over one of the flowers as you gazed at it lovingly. Then you dropped your hand as you cleared your throat. “So, how much longer are you in town?”

Jake straightened up, removing his hand from your arm. “Just a few more days. I should be getting my medical clearance at the end of the month so I need to go home and make sure everything is in order for me to return to active duty.”

“That’s sort of a shame. I think your time on leave has been good for you.”

Jake frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. You’re…. different. Like, it’s not just the longer hair and the beard– both of which look really great on you by the way– but it’s your attitude and how you hold yourself. Plus I don’t think the old Jake would have ever done what you did the other night.”

“Yeah, well, then maybe this new Jake is just an idiot. He’d have to be to ever push you away.”

“Not an idiot. Just a better man than people give him credit for.” Leaning over, you lightly pressed your lips to his cheek.

Jake felt his heart leap in his chest and it took everything in him not to turn his head and capture your lips with his. But you were right, he had changed. The old Jake probably would have kissed you, yet now….

Clearing his throat as you took a step back, he asked, “What do you think you’ll do now?”

Sighing, you said, “I don’t know. Without Bob, I don’t really have a reason to stay in California. My parents want me to move back near them so I have a familial support system around and I’m considering it. I think a change would be good for me.”

“Apparently, it did wonders for me,” Jake teased. “But whatever you decide, I’m always here if you need anything, anything at all. You have my number.”

Reaching out, you placed your hand on his arm and gave it a light squeeze. “Thank you. I’ll remember that. And good luck going back to work. Be safe up there.”

You dropped your hand and started to walk out of the door. When you were halfway down the steps, Jake called out, “Hey… Maybe one day in the future if you decide it’s time to move on with someone new, you look me up.”

Glancing back towards the door, you gave him a small, reserved smile. “Maybe…. One day. Goodbye, Jake.” Then you turned and soon disappeared from view.

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a-reader-and-a-writer · 1 year

Text

Make Me Forget

Winter Whumperland 2022: Day 8. Unexpected Kindness Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Jake "Hangman" Seresin, f!reader, former Bob x reader

Word Count: 4300

TW: Emotional Angst, Grief, Death of a Loved One, Main Character Death, Tears, Drunk Reader makes bad decisions, Intoxicated Kiss, Tattoo

Notes: Thank you to @lorecraft and @green-socks for talking me through this and their support! I love you guys!

Sequel to No Laughing Matter but can also be read as a stand-alone piece.