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iniquitousyearning · 8 months ago

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SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

fuckfest. the slytherins — groupsome / drunk sex.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. | 2024.

summary: malfoy manor is a great place for drinks, laughs, and…. orgys?

warnings: 18+ MDNI, SMUTTTTTT, porn with negative 100 plot, literally just sex and mentions of alcohol, group of uni students that love to consensually gangbang when they have the chance (sorry i’m cackling at that), pansy and reader kiss a few times, multiple orgasms from some of the boys, anal sex, fingering, oral.

Habits are simple, predictable things, slipping into your life without much thought. Some are reckless, some harmless. And some, well—some come with the taste of someone else's lips.

You're not sure when kissing Pansy Parkinson became one of them. What started as a drunken dare, a little more fun than you'd planned for, has now undoubtedly turned into something else—something almost close to ritual. With every night that stretches long, every round of drinks that comes too fast, it's inevitable that your lips will find hers at one point or another, like clockwork.

And a habit is just a habit, but this one—this one you never feel like breaking.

"You ever try body shots with tequila?" Pansy whispers, breath warm against your lips as her smirk hooks you, the same way it always does.

"Plenty of times." You grin back, your mouth barely brushing hers. "What, you want me to lay back for you, Parkinson? Shirt pulled down—or off?"

Theo whistles, and Pansy giggles. They've seen this before, watched it unfold in countless variations, yet it's still equally as entertaining every single time.

"Pull it down, take it off, whatever gets me there faster." She's already moving, grabbing lime and salt with hands that are too steady for how much you've all been drinking. "You know I won't complain either way."

You pour her a shot, liquid gold catching the dim light in the room. You feel the weight of every inebriated gaze on you—Draco, Blaise, Enzo, Mattheo, Theo—all of them watching, same way they always do when you and Pansy put on a show.

You blink and she’s back in front of you, lime and salt in hand. You feel bold, drunk on the moment as you hook your fingers under the hem of your shirt, leaning into her kiss only to break it as you pull the fabric over your head. The boys shift around you—more whistles—and Pansy's hands find your face, greedy and gentle all at once, barely giving you a moment to toss the shirt aside before she nudges you onto your back.

"You're so fucking hot," she purrs, slinking between you and the boys who are seated around the table, grinning. "Tilt your head, that's it—here—"

She nestles the cool shot glass between your tits while sprinkling the salt on your neck—then, the lime slice is between your teeth before you can even register it, and now you're staring straight at Blaise—his dark eyes roving over you like a feast, lips parted just enough that you can imagine the feel of them pressed against your own.

Your thighs tense, heat pooling low in your stomach.

"The boys wanted a show," Pansy whispers as she pulls off her own shirt. "They'll get one."

You hum in agreement and she works like she's done this a hundred times— shot glass disappearing between her lips, tossing the tequila back before she sets it aside— warm tongue dragging along the line of salt on your skin, moving up to suck juice from the lime between your lips. She meets your eyes for what feels like a split second before the lime is yanked free and her mouth is on yours, lips tasting like tequila and salt and something wild—

You close your eyes against the flood of sensation—the alcohol, the heat, the spinning of the room—and kiss her back with equal fervour. Her lips crush yours, sloppy and wild, a thousand impulses spinning through your mind and inevitably, you're too weak to fight them, tugging her closer as a result.

Pansy huffs, fingers curling into your hair as she crawls on top of you—straddling your hips on top of the table as one hand slips down to your chest. The boys are muttering things that you can't hear as the kiss is frantic now, teeth grazing, tongues tangled, the taste of lime and tequila lingering in each exhale.

"Gods, Pansy," you gasp into her mouth, hands sliding down her waist, digging into the fabric of her skirt. "You're insatiable."

She pulls back just enough to smirk, breathless, her dark eyes glinting. "I could say the same about you, babe."

You feel the tension in her greedy fingers as they curl against your scalp, her weight pressing you down into the table, and suddenly—all the teasing, all the playing at flirting feels too far away—you need her closer, need to take control back, need to feel her beneath you instead of towering over you—

"Pans—" your hands find her hips, gripping tight as you push against her, trying to flip her onto her back—but in your haste, you misjudge the edge of the table and before you can stop her she's tumbling forward, off the side, straight into Draco's lap. "Oh—shit—"

Everyone gasps, the room pausing for a moment and you're vaguely aware of Blaise's hands clutching your waist, pulling you steady into his lap as you teeter off the table too, the tequila making your head spin. Pansy is sprawled over Draco on the floor, skirt hitched high enough to give the rest of you a perfect view of her ass—to which everyone in the room is admiring. Shamelessly.

It's a spectacle—and the boys have always loved a fucking spectacle.

"Merlin's sake—" Draco grunts as Pansy slumps over him, straddling his waist. You catch the way his hands grip her thighs, fingers flexing like they don't quite know what to do with themselves. "Always the bloody dramatics with you two.”

"I'm not even sorry." Pansy grins, unrepentant as ever as she leans into Draco's neck, teasing like nothing's even happened, like she's perfectly content to remain there, straddling his lap. "You make a good seat."

Draco scoffs, and Theo snickers from across the table.

"You're a menace." The words from Draco's lips sound a lot like praise, and something about the way his eyes flutter shut when Pansy's tongue finds the sensitive skin at his throat makes your mouth go dry. "You're alright, though?"

"Fine," she murmurs, though her tone suggests she's thinking of anything but her well-being. "Totally fine." Her fingers brush over his chest, tracing the buttons of his shirt. "Are...are you fine?"

"I'm—" his voice catches when her fingers undo the first button. "I'm fine."

"You are," she agrees, voice a little hoarse, as she undoes the second, then the third. "Very, very fine."

Draco's face flushes, and there's a sheepish edge to his smile as his hands—almost without thought—begin to slide higher, fingers trailing under the hem of her skirt, pulling it just a little further up her hips. Her eyes flutter closed for just a second as he settles over the curve of her ass, and there's a spark, a shiver of something between them—

Your gaze flicks to Blaise, feeling his presence at your back—solid, grounding, the warmth of his chest pressed against you as you lean into him. You don't have to see him to know he's watching, though you find the confirmation anyways, his dark eyes tracing every movement, every shift between the two heated Slytherins on the floor.

When you glance back, you see the boys are all watching, too—Theo, Enzo, Mattheo—all glued to the sight, silent in their anticipation.

Pansy grinds down, and Draco's head tips back, eyes closed, hands clinging to her hips, her ass, anywhere he can find—

"They don't waste any time, do they?" Blaise murmurs, words a tickle at your pulse, the sound of his voice pulling you back into your own body, your own skin.

You shiver as his fingers trail lightly up your ribs, teasing the edge of your black lace bra—you tilt your head and you catch Theo's gaze sliding over you, flicking back and forth between Pansy's legs and the way Blaise's hands have begun their slow exploration along your sides. You grin as you meet Enzo's eyes next, his lip pulled between his teeth, fingers tracing the rim of his cup—

"You could take notes, Zabini," you murmur, the words catching in your throat as his lips graze your shoulder—so close, too close.

"Me? Take notes?" He chuckles, pressing a kiss to the spot just below your ear. "I've already got it down to a science, baby.”

"Yeah?" You hum, lost in the feel of his mouth on your skin, the way his fingers are edging dangerously close to your breasts. You can feel Mattheo's gaze, burning into you from across the table, but you don't dare look, you'd crack if you did. "You sure about that?"

"Quiz me if you'd like." As if to prove his point, he pushes past the fabric of your bra, long fingers finding a nipple, and your hips twitch of their own accord, a gasp leaving your lips. "I'll pass any test you give me."

"Cocky." There's a slight edge to your voice as you roll your hips, meeting his heat with your own—just to distract him, of course. "You're gonna' make the others jealous."

"They'll have their fun," his finger toys with the clasp of your bra, now. You feel him undo it. "I want you first."

"Oh," you gasp at the sensation of cool air against bare skin as he yanks it off your arms, exposing your tits to everyone at the table. "Cocky and greedy."

"You'd expect nothing less, baby." He practically growls.

You choke on a moan. "Blaise-"

"That's my name," he's groping, his fingers pinching your nipples just hard enough to make you squeak. "I know you're real familiar with it."

Pansy's moans, soft and breathy, fill the space as Draco works her out of her skirt, mouth moving between her thighs. You clench—seeing them—her fingers in his hair, her gasps growing louder and more frantic—your pulse quickens—

"Jealous?" Blaise's taunts, having caught you staring.

You shake your head, but—Merlin, how could you not be? You'd give just about anything to relieve the heat between your thighs. To feel the heat of all the eyes watching you right now against your skin. Mattheo, Theo, Enzo—

"Not jealous." Even you can hear how breathless you sound. "Just impatient."

"Patience is a virtue," Blaise says, all mock-virtuousness, squeezing your tits again, as if to punish you for being impatient. "One I'm happy to reward—"

Mattheo is the first to snap, shoving the half-empty bottle of alcohol aside and standing up, chair scraping across the floor. Theo considers doing the same, you can tell, eyes still glued to your half-naked body as he drains his cup in one gulp. Your eyes flick to Enzo, who's merely staring, his lip still being bitten to death between his teeth.

Merlin help you.

Mattheo strolls around the table—eyes roaming as he moves, stopping just behind where you sit on Blaise's lap, breath warm on the back of your neck as he murmurs in your ear—

"I've been patient." You think it's to Blaise. "Where's my reward."

Blaise snorts, and then Theo stands up.

"We've been patient." He's looking at Blaise, lips just starting to grin. "Real, real patient."

Enzo laughs as he rises, too—all three of them forming a loose semi-circle around you and Blaise. You can almost taste the testosterone—hot and eager and hungry—as their eyes rake over you.

Blaise tugs you closer, his hands sliding down to your hips. "I'm feeling outnumbered."

"You're outnumbered," Theo agrees, smirk growing as his fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you off Blaise's lap and to your feet. "You're also outvoted. You think we're going to just sit around and watch?"

"Not a chance in hell," Mattheo growls as he moves behind you, calloused hand running up your thigh.

Blaise grunts from where he's still seated, watching you with molten eyes, "you lot are animals, you know that?"

You almost laugh at that, considering he had your bra off in minutes.

"We're just—eager." Theo whispers, leaning in just enough to breathe against your neck, kissing a path up your jaw while Mattheo's hands work at undoing your skirt. You're so turned on you're not sure how you're not dripping down your thighs. "I wanted to be inside you three fucking hours ago."

You whimper at his words, the thick air of the room suddenly too much as Mattheo's hands push your skirt down your legs.

"Three hours is generous." Enzo's moving now, but he isn't looking at you—his eyes are locked on Pansy as Draco slams into her—the two of them locked in a trance. "My head's been filled with filth since this afternoon."

"Filth?" Blaise cocks an eyebrow. "Is that what you're calling it now?"

"Filth," Mattheo husks, and his hand comes up to wrap around your throat—lips pressed to your ear. "All I've been able to think about for the past week."

Your hips twitch at the pressure against your throat—and you moan louder than Pansy. "Gods—if one of you doesn't fuck me in the next minute—"

"Told you," Blaise chuckles, watching Mattheo's hand around your throat like a hawk. "Animal."

"Then what?" Mattheo ignores him—fingers pressing against your pulse just a little harder as he pulls you flush against him, teeth finding your ear, and you feel Theo's fingers trail down your front, teasing your slit. "What're you gonna do?"

"Fuck," you mutter, breathless, hips jerking toward the touch. "I'll die—"

"Oh, that's not good." Enzo's looking now, circling around to stand on your free side, his gaze traveling from your face, down your body, to where Theo's fingers are centimetres from pushing into your soaked cunt. "Is it our responsibility to prevent that?"

"Probably. It's only the right thing to do." Mattheo's cooes against your neck. "Can't have you dying on us, now can we?"

"Mm. Not the only," Theo murmurs, pressing his lips to yours as he pushes a finger inside you. "I can think of a dozen things to do right now."

"A dozen?" Blaise scoffs. You're starting to hate the sound of his teasing fucking tone. "Only a dozen?"

You can't even reply—any words you possess are swallowed by another moan as a second, then a third, of Theo's fingers push deep into you. Even his fingers are long, you think. You forgot just how big—

"Merlin, Theo—fuck—"

"That's the idea," he grins against your lips—you moan again when his fingers curl deep.

"You like that?" Mattheos hands are all over you—your tits, your ass, the press of his chest against your bare back—and you think that you need to see his face, need to see his eyes. "You need more?"

"Yes." You're not sure if you're speaking to Mattheo, or Theo, or Enzo or Blaise, or all of them. "Yes, please—please—"

"Oh good," Blaise muses. "She's polite."

"Of course she is," Theo groans as your cunt clenches around his digits—your slick sounds filling the space between you, mingling with the sound of skin smacking from a few feet away. "So good for us."

"Mm," Mattheo adds, teeth scraping over your shoulder, squeezing your ass to make you gasp. "Very."

"A real angel," Enzo purrs, still circling like a fucking shark, eyes flitting over to Pansy and Draco again as her moans grow louder, more insistent. "Especially when she's begging."

It's all too much—Theo's fingers pumping deep, his thumb swirling your clit, the sounds of Draco and Pansy and the feel of hands and lips and intoxicated eyes everywhere—

Your head falls back against Mattheo’s shoulder. "Oh, please—fuck—please—"

"What're you begging for, Bellissima?" Theo murmurs, drawing your eyes back to his. "Wanna use your words?"

You gasp as his fingers move faster, deeper, as if he's trying to pull the words out of your throat. "Need—"

Blaise snickers. "Yes?"

"Need to cum—" you cry out, hysterical as Mattheo pinches your nipples, groans against your neck. "Need to be—fucked—"

"And I'm the greedy one." That's Blaise again, insufferable as ever.

"We like greedy," Theo grins against your mouth, fingers crooking, and your knees buckle. "Right, boys?"

"We do," Mattheo growls.

"We like it a lot," Enzo agrees, his eyes finally meeting yours. "We love it."

"Then what're you waiting for," you gasp, unable to take much more of the heat building, twisting, every point of contact sending a new wave of need through your body. "Give it to me—"

"Give you what?" It's Blaise again—God, he's driving you fucking insane tonight. "You gotta be more specific, babygirl."

"Give—ohh—" your orgasm is right there. Right. Fucking. There. "Give me your fucking dick, Zabini—fuck—you called first—"

"Oh I did, didn't I?" Blaise still hasn't moved from his seat, but you can see the way his trousers are straining. "Guess it's my lucky day."

Theo lets loose a groan, and you can feel his hips jerking in rhythm with his fingers. "Thank Merlin for small favours."

"Lucky for all of us, really." The corner of Blaise's mouth twitches, almost with the suggestion of a smile. "Don't you think, Enzo?"

Before you can even comprehend Enzo's response, Theo curls his fingers just right, thumb rubbing your clit just right, Mattheo groping your chest and kissing your neck just fucking right—and then you're there—climax charging you, release spilling all over Theo's fingers—

"Oh, fuck—yesyesyes—"

You cry out and shudder forward, only being held up by Theo and Mattheos hands, and you're barely back on earth before you feel Blaise's fingers under your thighs—urging you back and laying you out across the table as if you're a fucking feast for him—

"Patience," Blaise grins down at you, hands finding your thighs, squeezing hard enough to drag you back to reality and realize he's got his trousers undone. "Is really such a virtue."

"Right," you mumble, still breathless as you look up at him. "Too bad I'm fresh out."

Blaise chuckles at that. "I can tell."

Fuck this—

"Blaise—if you don't fuck me right now—" you push up from the table, urging him back into the chair he was sitting in. "I will let everyone else fuck me first and make goddamn sure you watch."

There's a flicker of surprise in Blaise's eyes as he slumps back in the chair—Mattheo snorts behind you and for a second you wonder if you may have just gone too far—

"Not a chance," he smiles, his words coming out in a growl that's all heat and lust and something just a little dangerous. "We'll have none of that."

And then, he's on his feet again. But this time, when he touches you, it’s firm and fast and not at all gentle. He directs you around the table before bending you over it, and you hear someone—Theo, you think?—groan like they're in pain, the sound swallowed by a desperate moan that you know for certain is Pansy's.

Your eyes flutter when you hear it—you just don't know where to look—

"No, look up. Up." Blaise's hand is in your hair, forcing you to look up from the table, and you realize where the sound came from. "I want you to watch."

Your head's spinning in a way you're sure is not entirely from the alcohol, and it only intensifies when your eyes focus on the scene just across the room—Draco and Pansy sprawled on the couch, now, Pansy riding him while stroking Enzo's insistent dick, his glossed eyes glued to yours, watching, just watching—

Blaise's hand is still in your hair. "That's it. Watch."

Enzo smiles at you, cheeky and fucking taunting before Pansy tightens her grip while jerking him off and his head tips back—

"Gonna' be good for me," Blaise murmurs against your back—his tip pressing against your dripping entrance. "Gonna' take it all for me?"

"Yes," you gasp, catching a glimpse of Mattheo and Theo just off to the side of you, sharing a smoke. "Fuck yes—"

"That's it, baby. Just relax," he cooes, and then he's pushing into you. "Relax and enjoy it—"

There's a sting as he stretches you, and keeps stretching you until he's bottoming out far fucking deeper than you'd remembered—there's a moan from you that gets tangled between your teeth, a gasp from infront you, a moan from someone else, and—gods, if Blaise doesn't start moving—

"Blaise—oh, fuck—"

Blaise gives a low moan as your walls flutter around him, a swear under his breath that's punctuated with a hard squeeze of your hip. "Good—god—Merlin—"

He pulls out just enough to make you cry out, shameless—and it melds with Pansy's from across the room.

"Shh," Mattheo steps infront of you, blocking your view of Pansy and Draco and Enzo. "Let Blaise feel you—"

—and suddenly, Mattheo's hand is on your jaw, forcing your head back, coaxing your eyes to his. His other hand disappears, down past his belt, and you moan again—wet walls squeezing Blaise as he slowly starts to rock into you.

"I wanna' fuck your throat," Mattheo murmurs, so close you can feel his breath on your lips. "Badly."

"So needy," your words are a breathless moan, but Mattheo doesn't seem to mind—he just grins as he unbuttons his trousers. "Can't even watch for five minutes without—"

"I know, I can't," he interrupts, and his hand's back at your jaw, gripping hard. "You've got me too fucking hard."

You're about to reply with another smartass comment, but Theo saddles up next to his fellow Slytherin and before you can blink his hand is on the back of your head, tangling in your hair, angling your lips toward Mattheo's now-exposed cock—

"Don't worry about the smart mouth," Theo leans down close to you, every intention of cutting off your reply. "We have other uses for it."

You'd probably roll your eyes at the phrase if it wasn't for Mattheo's dick pushing past your teeth and hitting the back of your throat so quick you gag— eyes squeezed shut as Blaise bottoms out, again and again.

"That's one of them." he adds with a smirk, watching you choke on his best friends dick.

You can't even think. Every thought that enters your head is immediately replaced with another moan, another sensation, another need, another—

"Draco! Fuck!" You hear Pansy cry out from the couch.

"Keep going, Pans," Enzo grunts, his voice sounding choked. "Just like that."

"She taking you good, Blaise?" The question comes out in a moan of his own—you think it's Draco—and you wonder idly who's doing what over there now. "Tight as I remember?"

“Tight and wet and—fuck—" Blaise's voice has taken on a new level of strangled, desperate, need that's almost too raw to hear it, and— "she's—good. She's good."

"That's it," Draco grunts again, like he's pleased to hear it. "She's an—oh, yes, Pansy, fuck—"

The noise from the couch is too much—you're not able to think past the fullness—the desperate, overwhelming heat that's consumed you, and that's when you feel a pair of lips at your ear—

"Does it feel good?" Theo's words are barely louder than a whisper, your gagging sounds almost drowning them out. He grabs your hand, slowly bringing it to his crotch. "Having us like this?"

Your fingers are clumsy, shaky as they wrap around him and try to push his trousers down—it's hard to see past the water in your eyes but once you do you're rewarded with a gasp and a low swear under his breath that sounds so damn good you want to hear it a million times more.

"Mmmfff." You moan around Mattheo as Blaise's fingers find your clit, coaxing you towards a high you're not sure you can handle—

"That's it," Theo whispers, moving your hand just the way he likes it. His fingers are tangled with yours while his free hand finds your hair again, shoving you closer to Mattheo. "Fuck. That's it."

Everything is spinning and whirling in the best way, the best possible way, and you know you're there, so close, but it's so hard to think, so hard to do anything—when—

"You gonna' cum for us, baby?" Another pair of lips at your ear, not Theo's voice, but Blaise's—ragged with his deep thrusts. "Gonna' cum for us good and hard?"

Your response, which most likely would have been something along the lines of: "yes" or "please" or "gods yes fucking please," is completely smothered by Mattheo—his hand at the back of your head alongside Theo's, fingers tangled in your hair, cockhead slamming the back of your throat over and over and over—

"Then do it," Blaise knows your answer anyways. His fingers rub quicker, his hips piston faster. "Now."

And it's in this moment where you lose yourself completely—the world narrows down to your body, every sensation flooding through you, and the fucking sounds—Pansy's moans, Theo's groans, Blaise's pants, Mattheo's swearing, Draco's whimpers and Enzo's fucking grunting—where you can't do a goddamn thing to stop it, not that you even wanted to. You do what Blaise told you, cumming so hard you see stars behind your eyes, and for one blissful, everlasting second—you feel nothing but pure unadulterated pleasure, until it all comes rushing back with force.

You think you hear Theo say "good girl" as your body tenses—shaking, trembling, clenching around Blaise so hard his pace falters and his hips slow and his thrusts turn erratic—and then you feel it—the result of his pent up passion as he slows to to an absolute standstill—spilling his cum deep into your cunt while he shudders against you, gasping out a curse that might have been your name.

"Oh, fuck," he groans, slowly—carefully—and you feel him pull out of you just as Mattheo moans, hands tightening in your hair, spilling his own release down your throat. "Oh, sweet Merlin."

It takes a moment for reality to filter back in, and you try to catch your breath in a way that's probably not very dignified. You're not quite sure what to do with yourself—and quite frankly, you're not given the chance to figure it out as Mattheo pulls out too and Theo slips up behind you—

"Come here, Bella," he murmurs, his lips at your ear again—he sounds like he's trying to catch his breath, too. Through the fog you remember that at one point you were jerking him off—and you feel the confirmation of his need still hard against your ass as he pulls you up against him. "There we go. Easy now."

You try to speak—you're not sure what you would even say—but your voice is as shaky as the rest of you, and all that comes out is a soft moan.

"She's—" Blaise's still trying to steady his breath as he slumps into his prior chair, trousers still half undone. "—she's on mars."

"I've a feeling we all are," Theo mutters, holding you against him. His fingers skim down your stomach, almost like he's mapping out the aftershocks. "Some more than others."

You can almost feel the way his eyes flick across the room with that—noting the way Draco's splayed out on the couch next to Pansy who's now riding Enzo and jerking a still half-hard Mattheo—

"Oh, relax," Draco scoffs, eyes shut and head tipped toward the ceiling. "I'll rejoin the land of the living in a moment."

"Sure, Draco," Mattheo huffs, and you can practically hear the roll of his eyes from here. "We'll be here when you do."

"Mm—fuck, Pansy—"

Enzo's moan cuts through their bantering and it's at that moment where Theo finally decides he's waited long enough—he grabs your wrist and pulls you away from the table, directing you to the couch where he slumps down and drags you into his lap, your thighs on either side of his—throbbing, leaking cock pressing against your cum soaked cunt.

You moan, and Pansy moans beside you.

"I think," Theo murmurs into your neck, his words as thick and as needy as his hardness, "I could get used to this."

"S'that right?" You try to keep your words cool, to be as unaffected as you'd like, but—there's no hiding the way your breath hitches, the way you move your hips just the slightest in his lap. "I can't say the same about your size."

"Take me at your own pace." He husks, a smirk you're sure is attached to the words. "I'm halfway there already from that handjob."

You'd laugh at that if you weren't still so breathless and shaky from before, so instead the laugh comes out as a needy moan as you slide forward, shifting in his lap until you feel his tip brush up against your already sensitive clit—

"Gods," you breathe out the word, bracing your hands on his shoulders. "Such a gentleman."

"Always," he replies, completely sincere just before his hands grab your hips and in one quick motion—he's guiding you down onto him. "Always for you."

You'd reply—you'd probably even say something that might be sweet, if you could, if the rest of the world didn't fade into a sort of pleasurable blankness as you sink down—down until the moan that leaves you is so unbridled that it should have been embarrassing if the whole fucking lot of you weren't so far passed embarrassment—because just the head of him is so thick and you're suddenly thankful Blaise stretched you out so deliciously because otherwise you think it'd be too much, too quick and—fuck.

You're still sensitive, and you know he can tell—

"Oh, she's tight." Theo's voice is low in your ear, his lips tracing your jawline. "Too much?"

"Never," you gasp out, offering some weak shake of your head. "Never too much."

He grins against your pulse, teeth scraping across your skin—

"Good."

He punctuates the word by sinking you down a bit more, the stretch of his shaft drawing out a moan from deep in your chest—

"And when it is?"

—he pauses, tightening his grip on your hips to pull you up slightly before sliding you back down—

"Tell me."

You're only half able to form the thought at this point—the other half of you is so preoccupied with the feeling of his hands holding you, his lips against your skin, his voice in your ear—you nod, anyway, and there's another moan from somewhere in the room—Enzo again, and it's more of a whimper than anything else.

"That’s it, Pansy, so good—"

"Feels good, Enzy?" Her response comes through gasps. "You like it like that?"

Blaise answers for them both—you catch a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye, slumped back in his chair with a new drink in hand. "Keep that up and he'll never leave that couch again."

"He's not the only one." Theo's words vibrate through you, and while you're not sure if it's the meaning behind them or the way they're sent deep into your neck with a hint of teeth, either way you have to swallow a moan before you can respond.

"Is that so?" You reply, doing your goddamn best to keep your voice steady as Theo's hips roll up into you again.

"It is so," he murmurs. "You think you can handle staying on this couch all summer?"

Summer. Hardly a week away. You think of the days and nights you're going to spend in this manor, in this room—in this room on this fucking couch—

His hands slip to your ass, guiding you up and down. "You think you could last another hour?"

"Mmm," you manage to get the sound out before he rolls up again, the perfect angle to hit that sensitive spot somewhere deep inside you and that's all you have to say before all other higher level thinking goes out the window. "Oh, Theo, you’re fucking deep—"

"I know," he replies, his breath harsh against your throat, his words lost between the moans you can't seem to keep from slipping out. "I know, bella, I know—"

Cocky bastard.

You lean down, pulling his head against your chest with hands in his hair and he follows. You'd think he'd try to pull back, just to say something witty with a smirk on his face—but instead he groans, his tongue flicking over your nipple and that's when you hear Mattheo grunt from somewhere beside you—

"Fuck me." His voice comes out as a gasp that he's struggling to keep from sounding strangled. Pansy's still lazily stroking him, multitasking while riding Enzo. "I'm so fucking hard again."

If you could manage a proper response, you might have said that was the idea—you'd probably have said something very clever about how you wouldn't mind letting him down your throat again.

You can still think, but the thought is a struggle, so all you manage is a breathless—

"Matt—“

"Mmm?" Hardly a hum—and for some reason it's so much more attractive than it probably should be. "Yes, princess?"

The way you shiver at the pet name is something you're going to have to examine at some point—not now, though, because if you have to put any more thought into any single thing you're going to explode.

"You—you—"

Theo interrupts before you can finish the sentence. "Fuck her, Riddle."

If Mattheo's surprise at Theo's apparent order is evident, it's masked by the moan he lets out as Pansy does something that must have felt especially good.

"I, fuck—I already fucked her throat, Nott. If you'd finish gatekeeping her—"

"She's got another hole, Riddle," Theo replies, with that self-assured tone that's too goddamn cocky to be legal and you wonder absently if he knows what it does to you as he gives a sharp, deliberate roll of his hips. "She can handle it, can't you, bella?"

You try to moan out an answer—you're sure there's a sound there—anything to let him know that yes, you not only can but that you're not sure there's anything you'd rather do—yet the words die before you can get them out as Mattheo is already moving—rough hands finding your ass, spreading your cheeks as he leans down to press a kiss to the dimples on your lower back. The sensation catches you off guard but you don't have time to think about that before you feel something wet—his saliva, you think—slick between your cheeks and then his fingers are there, rubbing and massaging against your tight hole—

And then, he's pressing a finger into you. "Oh—"

You're not even sure if your gasp is a reaction to Theo's movement or Mattheo's—all you know is that for a moment it all just combines into a whirlwind that seems to just drown all the oxygen out of your lungs completely—

"I know," Theo's breath is as laboured and rough as yours—the rumble of his words vibrating against your chest, your collarbone. "God, I know—"

"Jesus," another moan, strangled and needy, and it's not from you or Theo or even Enzo—it's from Mattheo. "Oh, this ass is tight—"

That's not something you're going to be able to get over—hearing that coming from him. "Oh fuck, Matt—"

"Mmm?" There's a smile in his voice—and you'd see it on his face if you were facing him, if all of his focus weren't so decidedly somewhere else. "You want me to fuck this perfect ass, don’t you?"

With that he pushes another finger into you while Theo wraps his arms around your waist to hold you steady to his chest. His hips cant up into you, and you swear you're on fire—Mattheo chuckles.

The sensation is so much you’re crying out again, his teasing turning infuriating. "You're a goddamn—ah—bastard—"

"Maybe so," he replies, with a smack to one of your asscheeks. "But a bastard that's going to—"

He stretches you out, pumping and scissoring slow, just as deliberate as everything else he does—and the moan you let out is enough to drown out whatever witty, dirty words you're sure he was going to follow that with—

"Fuck—fuck," the word is all you can manage as you brace your hands against Theo's shoulders, nails digging into his skin— "oh, fuck—"

Mattheo groans against your back and you swear it's intentional because he has to know what all of this is doing to you—what it's doing to Theo by association.

"Fuck, she likes that—" Theo's gasp hits you like a punch in the gut. "I should have—"

It's like there's a whole sentence, some snarky, perfectly articulate statement he had in mind, but whatever words it was comprised of are lost in the way he shivers—in the way his hips jerk more erratically due to how tight you're squeezing him—due to the way your walls spasm as Mattheos fingers keep pumping, stretching—

"Should have what?" It's a miracle you manage the words, and you're feeling particularly proud about the way it's more of a challenge than a question, even if it's half mumbled.

Whatever it is, he can't say it, and whatever retort you had for that is interrupted by the sound of a grunt—Enzo. His face is screwed up in pleasure, his breath is coming in ragged, uneven pants and there's a look in his eyes that looks distinctly broken.

Mattheo groans and pulls his fingers free. You feel the tip of his dick replacing them. "Can’t fucking wait any longer."

Enzo's eyes meet yours, then, and they're absolutely wrecked. "I'm going to—"

Pansy grins and moans out her reply. "Yeah, you are."

There's little else you can say—not that you'd have the words even if you weren't as lost as the rest of them. You just have a flash of thought about how you've never seen Enzo look like that before, open and vulnerable and completely at the mercy of whatever bliss he's riding right now, but then there's another feral moan escaping your lips—

"Oh, Gods, Mattheo!—"

Theo groans into your neck as Mattheo presses in and it takes merely two seconds before your eyes roll back—the way he sinks into your ass is a level of fullness you weren't sure you could reach, and even that's a thought that's too complex for you to process as your head drops, forehead pressed to Theo's shoulder.

There's a hiss from his lips, another muttered curse that you half catch as he bites at your collarbone, his hands moving back to squeeze your hips—

"Fuck, yes," Mattheo's voice sounds more strained than you've ever heard it. "Jesus Christ, that feels good—"

"Don't think the saviour would like you taking his name in vain," Blaise says, from somewhere in the room. "Not in this scenario at least."

No, he wouldn't, you think, but there's no way you've got the wherewithal to speak now—any focus you had is lost now that you're impaled on not one, but two cocks and it's like your entire nervous system's been turned over to the sensation of being so fucking full, so surrounded—of not being able to do anything except try to remember how to breathe.

It's not working very well.

"Mm," Theo's moans, fucking up into you nice and slow. "I think he'd understand."

"I think that's a rather blasphemous stance to take," Blaise replies. "Then again, given the scenario, perhaps that's not the most shocking revelation I've had of you all today."

"Blaise," Enzo groans, his tone somewhere between pleading and demanding. "Are you really going to try and have a conversation right now?"

"Just making an observation," Blaise says casually, and you swear that part of your brain that still functions can see the smirk plastered on his face in your mind. "Merely commenting about the depravity on display."

"Your commentary is duly noted," Mattheo breathes, his words punctuated by a low moan as he smacks your ass. "And dismissed."

There's a grumble of agreement through the room at that, including one from you, but all your words come out as a gasp—

Theo loves you like this. You can tell he's fucking savouring it. "That's it, bella. You don't need to do more than that."

Part of you wants to protest the statement, wants to argue that you have it in you to contribute more, but no matter how hard you try—and you do try—all that comes out around the moans is an inarticulate mess.

"Yeah, that's it," Mattheo groans, and you'd be embarrassed about how utterly ruined by all of this you are if you could focus on anything other than the two dicks pumping you in rhythm. "Just let me and Nott take care of your—mmf—tight fuckin' holes."

There's a whine that worms its way out of your chest and through your lips at that, and you don't know what it's begging for—just that it's begging, and all your mind cares about right now is that Theo and Mattheo understand that.

Theo's response is a moan of his own and a hand finding the back of your neck, his fingers wrapping around your hair. "So fucking wet—tight—"

"And taking us so goddamn well," Mattheo adds as one of his hands grab your ass again, spreading you open. "Fucking hell—I'm so close—"

"So are we," Theo responds for you, and the words are harsh and desperate and make your whole body shudder. "So—ah—so are we—"

The realization that he can feel how close you are makes you clench—walls fluttering around the both of them as they fuck you tempered—it’s only a few more seconds before you're seeing stars so bright you hardly register the sounds of Enzo and Pansy reaching their climaxes next to you—the feeling of Pansy crashing her lips to yours as she cums and moans into your mouth propelling you further over the edge, into your own ecstasy—

And if there were a way to describe it, you're sure you'd think of it later, but right now it's all just fire and lightning—pleasure wracking your body until you're certain you're not going to come down for hours. You can't really hear anything—just the rushing of your own blood pulsing in your ears—but as it starts to subside, your vision returns and the sound follows—your lips still pressed to Pansy's as Theo moans underneath you, spilling his release into your cunt while Mattheo is still thrusting slow—

"Oh my god," you gasp as you break the kiss, all of you breathing so hard you're sure it's going to take a while for the oxygen levels in the room to return to normal. "Oh my god, oh my god—"

"Mmm," is about all Theo seems to be capable of currently.

It’s a rare thing for him to be rendered speechless—and you'd grin at the knowledge if it weren't for Mattheo still thrusting deep in your ass—leaving Theo trapped inside your cunt, his length still twitching and throbbing within your walls.

"Still with us, princess?" Mattheo's chuckle is somewhat strangled, and the hand he's not gripping your ass with finds your hair again, tugging your head back to expose your neck. "You aren't done already, are you?"

If he expects—or even wants—an actual answer to that question, he's going to be very disappointed because all you can manage is a strangled half-moan that's a decent representation to how you're feeling right now—

"I think she's lost her words," Mattheo murmurs—and then it's like he realizes something. "Maybe we should test that."

"Wha—"

It's not a proper word, but you don't even have the chance to fully get it out before his hand in your hair is pulling your head back even further and you realize that at some point Pansy had gotten off of Enzo and he's now kneeling on the couch in front of you with his cum covered cock aimed directly at your lips—

"Clean me off."

It's another demand you'd probably be inclined to respond to with a snarky reply if you were at all confident in your ability to do anything other than open your mouth and let him press the tip to your tongue—

"Good girl," Enzo says, and the praise is delivered with that voice that sounds like it came from some dark place inside him, the one that's only ever really appeared in the privacy of these walls and with this group of people. "Taste your bestfriend on me, hm? You like that?"

It's a question you'd probably deny a few months ago, but that's not the case anymore—and you know that the answer would be obvious regardless, given how you've just proven you're more than happy to share them with her. So instead you give an answer that's a better representation of how you feel without having to admit it, and it only comes out as a hum of agreement as you taste her.

"I know you do," Enzo replies, and he's got that same smirk he usually has when he's got the upper hand, the one that usually makes you feel at least mildly put out—now it just makes you shiver. "Little slut."

Theo, who's still trapped underneath you and still half hard inside you, moans at that.

"Mmmm-" yes, you want to say, but you can't and the noise you manage instead, around the taste of your bestfriend on your tongue, comes out more like a whimper that has absolutely no business doing as much to you as it does.

Mattheo growls with a deep thrust into your ass, and the whimper turns into a whine as Pansy moves closer to you.

"You look pretty," she murmurs, her mouth pressed against your hair as Enzo pushes his dick deeper down your throat. "You look so fucking pretty right now."

There's something about that, the way her voice caresses the words, that makes something warm rush through you, wrapping around the bliss and squeezing until you're almost overwhelmed again.

Your eyes water, as you gag. "Mmgh—"

"Mhmm," her lips move down your cheek, next to your mouth where Enzo is still slowly fucking it, and it's like the action is deliberate—a way to show, without saying it outright, just how wrecked you are. "And you say I'm insatiable."

That's fair, because right now you're fairly certain you've never wanted something to continue forever quite as much as you do this, regardless of the fact that you know it's not practical.

"Ah, fuck—" Mattheo grunts with a messy thrust. “Oh, fuck—"

He's not the most loquacious person in the world but even he is having a hard time getting words out—and you're not much better, with the only sounds you're capable of making completely indecipherable even for you, let alone the rest of the room.

"Fuck—" with a final curse, he spills his release deep into your ass and Theo groans from under you as you clench as a result. "—yes."

The feeling of him twitching and spilling inside you makes you moan around Enzo, and he groans too—one hand tangled in your hair and the other tangled in Pansy's to keep her close—

"Mm, yes," Enzo moans now, jerking his hips toward your face. "Feels good—so good—“

—and close is an apt word because they're all close to you, all surrounding you—even Blaise and Draco's exhausted presence are felt in the background.

"I'm pretty sure she's gonna be sore for days after this," Pansy says, the words whispered. "I hope you all know—"

"I think she'll be thanking us for that," Theo replies before anyone else can. "In a day or two at least."

Pansy giggles, a sound that's soft and familiar and comforting even in this current state of being surrounded and overwhelmed, and her cheek brushes up against yours as the two of you peer up at Enzo—

"You're probably right." She whispers.

Enzo grunts, pulling his cock from your mouth and offering it to Pansy who greedily takes it in her own—

"Selfless generosity," Theo murmurs from directly under your chin having just witnessed that, and his tone suggests he's got his signature smirk in place. "How noble of us."

"Very selfless," Blaise says, from somewhere in the room again—and even as you're lost in pleasure you know that statement borders on sarcastic. "Absolutely nothing in it for any of you."

"Nothing at all," Theo replies, the same amount of sarcasm in his voice as Blaise's. "It's all self-sacrifice."

"Mm," Mattheo murmurs against your shoulder, before he pushes himself off you and finally pulls out. "Not even a shred of personal satisfaction."

You're still collapsed on top of Theo, as boneless as a human being can be, and a quiet whine escapes your lips at the loss before you can stop it.

"See," Theo murmurs, a hand coming up to run through your hair. "We've practically made a martyr of ourselves here. Selflessness at its finest."

"So humble," Blaise says, and you swear you hear the eyeroll that's almost certainly included. "I think this calls for medals and a parade through the streets. A holiday, maybe. Selfless Slytherin Day."

Enzo huffs—you can tell he's considering telling Blaise to shut up before he ruins his orgasm but as Pansy drags her tongue along the underside of his shaft, he seems to forget about it—

"Absolutely," Mattheo says—and if you had the strength to lift your head and look at him there'd likely be a smug smirk on his face. "I'd volunteer to be parade marshall, personally."

Enzo pulls out of Pansy's mouth with a gasp—and it's all but two seconds before he sprays sticky jets of cum all over your face and hers, his head tipping back as he does—

"I'm sure you would," Blaise says dryly, his voice coming from closer now than before. "I'm sure you would also volunteer to accept the medal, and then offer a speech about how humble you are."

"Mhm,” Mattheo sounds unbothered. You know he is. "Obviously. Someone's got to make sure the truth is told."

Pansy giggles against your face, then, before her tongue drags across your cheek, collecting some of Enzo's release. "Well, it's no good if you all are going to keep doing a poor job at the selflessness part.”

"I think we're well past the point of pretending we're doing this selflessly," Theo mutters dryly as he presses a kiss to your shoulder. "If we were capable of that level of pretending, we'd all be in Ravenclaw."

Your hands find Pansy's hair, holding her close to you as you lick Enzo's cum off her chin and jaw.

"You're welcome to switch houses if you'd like," Blaise responds dryly. "Some of us were sorted to our houses for reasons other than self-satisfaction—"

"Oh, shove it, Zabini," Enzo says as his breath comes back. "You're acting like a bloody dad."

Blaise opens his mouth, presumably to offer some kind of sharp retort, but before they have a chance, Pansy cuts in. "If you're all quite finished with the pissing contest—“

"We've been done for minutes," Theo replies quickly, hand now stroking through your hair. "Now we're just bickering for the sake of it, as usual."

"Which means we've got at least another half an hour to go," Blaise mutters—before apparently giving up all attempt at sounding cool and collected and flopping down on the nearest open section of sofa.

"At least," Mattheo agrees. "Maybe an hour, if we're lucky."

Next to you, Enzo grunts out a laugh as he starts trying to fix himself back to modesty. "Lucky is one word for it—"

"I think lucky is an excellent term for the current state of things," Theo replies, his voice all smooth and silky and perfectly at fucking ease. "In fact, I'd be hard pressed to think of anything more lucky than getting to experience this."

Everyone is in agreement, at that.

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restlesssinner · 7 months ago

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Hey listen. A bunch of people will now try to convince the public that the killing of Brian Thompson was ethically wrong. They will try to use the same old tired arguments: that murder is always wrong, that we should stand against political violence in all forms, that CEOs are people too, etc.

Now, you probably won’t fall for all that bullshit, but a lot of people might. Here is what you need to tell them in return - it’s not guaranteed to change their minds, but every time you offer someone a chance to accept the truth you’re making it ever so more likely to take it.

In philosophy, the idea that people should never do certain “bad” things (e.g. killing) is called deontology. The thing is, unlike utilitarianism (which states people should choose actions that create the most wellbeing in society), deontology is inherently flawed as a morality system.

See, only through deontology can people end up finding themselves having to choose outcomes that will lead to more suffering in the world; think, the trolley problem. Now, ask yourself, what kind of morality system expects its followers to selfishly pick the choice that ensures their own moral purity, even if it dooms the wellbeing of possibly hundreds or millions of others?

Understanding this, you might ask yourself: who benefits from having deontology be the crux of understanding morality for so many people? Who benefits uplifting rules like the Ten Commandments as the ultimate guideline to ethics, as opposed to what it was in the original context of it’s religion - a simple list of base laws meant to instruct a small group of escaped slaves several thousand years ago?

The answer is twofold. First, there are the authoritarians, who wish to instill obedience by making people believe that breaking their rules, no matter how justified, is wrong. Secondly, there are the bystanders, who watch nervously as the world crumbles around them, but excuse their inaction by latching onto a false belief that they are still somehow better than the people who are doing something about it in a way they find aesthetically displeasing.

Therefore, it is imperative to look at the world through a utilitarian perspective, and judge every incident like so. Brian Thompson is part of a very exclusive club; he had wronged so many people so severely that the suffering caused to him and his loved ones by his murder is still innumerably outmatched by the joy his unlikely retribution will give the literal millions of people he’s wronged.

Remember, by similar logic it is still very unethical to kill 98% of people, so think of all the choices Thompson had to make to put himself in the top 0.1% of the 2% of people who’s murders can be justified. In a better society, a society that prevents and punishes exploitation, it would be hard to even conceive of a murder that could ever be so righteous.

In fact, in a society that uses classism and bigotry to block people from achieving their fullest potential through non-violent means, we must celebrate those who risk their lives and legal rights to push humanity forward, bringing to justice the true criminals of decency.

TLDR: Brian had it coming.

#united healthcare #us politics #brian thompson #🦀🦀🦀#deny defend depose

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snoopyracing · 6 months ago

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grapes and good fortune — ln4

pairing: lando norris x reader word count: 4.7k warnings: swearing and alcohol use includes: friends to lovers, mutual pining, and fluff summary: when your plan to find love on new year's eve doesn't work a certain someone may just fix those plans.

masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It’s not the end of the world to be single. You’ve gone your whole life technically being single– each guy you’ve had a thing with never resulted in a full fledged relationship. It never really seemed to bother you that much, you’d learned to be more independent and learned that your time is in fact more valuable than men think. Though, as the years passed and your friends started to get into serious relationships you couldn’t help but feel a little left behind.

You knew everyone’s time would come and seriously you were in your early to mid twenties – you still had a whole lifetime ahead of you. But the third wheeling you seemed to be a professional at by now was starting to get embarrassing. Also, holidays just really seemed to suck while being single. You knew there was more to life than being in a relationship, but god dammit you’re a human. You crave love and affection and no matter how independent you are– you still want to love and be loved.

Your friend group had unsuccessfully tried setting you up with more guys than you could count. Each one you really did try and give a chance, but there was nothing there. You didn’t think you had high standards by any means, but if you didn’t feel anything with these guys then why waste your time?

“You went on how many dates this month and none of them piqued your interest?” Your friend grills you as the two of you are sitting on the balcony of your apartment. You’d come back from another unsuccessful date and decided to drown your sorrows with a bottle of wine and a yapping session.

“Genuinely think there might be something wrong with me at this point.” You complain as you sip the sweet wine in your glass.

“There isn’t anything wrong with you.” The two dates a week for the past month say different, but you weren’t going to actually disclose that number to her. “Maybe your heart has already laid claim to someone else?”

“I think I would know if I was in love with someone.” She doesn’t say anything, but the way she inconspicuously sips her wine is telling you what she’s wanting to say. “Not this again.”

She puts her hands up in defense all while having a shit eating grin on her face. “I didn’t even say anything, but you immediately assuming that’s who I’m talking about says it all.”

“I’m not in love with Lando.”

Yes you were.

“I mean he’s one of my closest friends and it would just make things weird. He also for sure does not look at me in any way other than platonic. He’s got models flocking to him and literally thousands of other girls– I couldn’t compete.” Your friend remains silent once again as she sips her wine and watches the scene in front of her unfold. “Ok– just because I drunkenly admitted last year that I might possibly have a little tiny miniscule amount of feelings towards him does not mean I’m in love with him.”

“Yes it does.” Your friend replies without missing a beat.

“No it doesn’t” You say with a huff.

“Y/N, babe. You don’t see what everyone else sees and maybe your brain is trying to protect itself from the small chance of destruction, but you two are so in love it’s actually ridiculous.”

“I don’t think he’s looking for a relationship right now. If this season so far is any indication of what next season is gonna be like, do you really think he’ll want a serious relationship to juggle too?” You’d chugged the last bit of wine in your glass and immediately filled it back up.

A loud scoff comes from your friend. “With some girl he just met? No. You are a whole different story though. You two have history and are quite literally each other’s person. Two peas in a pod. Match made in heaven.”

You didn’t understand why your friend was so adamant about Lando and you getting together. What if it ended in flames and your friend group is stuck having to play children of divorce? You don’t want that.

“Do you hear yourself right now? I think you’ve had too much wine because that’s not true.”

She sits up on the edge of the wicker couch with an annoyed expression painted across her face “Do you hear yourself? I’ve never seen someone deny themselves happiness like you.”

“I don’t think I have actual feelings for Lando though. I really think it’s just because we are the only two single people in our friend group and it’s like I feel obligated to somehow have feelings for him. I just need to find the right person and whatever I may be feeling about Lando will go away.”

If someone could professionally roll their eyes your friend would be a pro. “You’ve already found the right person though!”

Before you can argue back for the hundredth time tonight the familiar tune of an incoming facetime call fills the air. Your phone that’s sitting on the glass coffee table lights up and Lando’s face fills the screen. You glance over at your friend who’s got a smirk on her face that could rival the Cheshire Cat.

“Speak of the devil.” She laughs.

You let it ring, fully knowing that if you answer it your friend will be insufferable the whole time you’re talking to him. You do send him a quick text to make sure everything's alright and of course he immediately responds with-

everything's all right.. just missed you is all.

Which has you locking your phone and stuffing it in the pocket of your hoodie. When you reach for your glass and realize it’s empty again you decide to just grab the bottle and drink straight from it.

“Drinking from the bottle because you’ve come to terms with how dumb you’ve been?” Your friend teases.

“Nope. It’s from having to deal with you all evening.”

Alright so maybe you did have actual feelings for Lando, but you were never going to fully admit that to your friend or anyone else for that matter. You didn’t want to risk ruining what you two already had, which was an amazing friendship. So for the following months you continue to go on an endless amount of dates and with each one that fails your friend's voice rings in your mind.

Maybe you wouldn’t be able to find someone else if you subconsciously compared every guy to Lando. They were never funny enough or charming enough or took themselves too seriously. In the end it was simply the fact that they weren’t Lando. So maybe your heart had already dug its claws into Lando, but you weren’t going to give up without one last battle.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

New Year's Eve. The final night of the year and the one party of the year that celebrates ends and beginnings. You’d hoped that with the plan you had for tonight that your streak of horrible dates would end and the next one would be the one. The trend of eating twelve grapes under a table at midnight on New Year’s Eve had been all over your social media. According to the internet if you were to do this you’d find love or your soulmate the following year– which was something you were so desperate for. So, your said plan was to bring some grapes with you and find a table to sit under.

As you were taking one last final look in the mirror a familiar British accent echoed through your apartment. “Are you almost ready?”

You quickly slipped on your heels and grabbed your bag off the dresser, but by the time you turned around there stood Lando, leaning against your doorframe with a slight smirk on his face. “Been waiting forever. It’s gonna be next year by the time we get out of here.”

His teasing, which usually always got a reaction out of you, was ignored. The sight of him had you frozen in your tracks for a moment. He had on a white button up, which he always looked good in, but it was the couple of undone buttons at the top and the necklace you got him for his birthday last year around his neck that got your attention. There was always something about seeing Lando in things you got him that made that funny feeling bloom in your stomach. Perhaps it was the fact that everytime he chose to wear them you knew he was thinking about you and that when he was away a part of you was always with him.

“Quit staring.”

You're knocked out of your trance and the blush that creeps onto your cheeks from getting caught is almost as embarrassing as being caught. “I wasn’t staring. I was admiring my good taste. Should have gotten one myself.” You try to play it off and push your way past him with what little amount of confidence you have at the moment.

“I’ll get it for you, then we can be matching.” Lando says as he follows behind you.

“I can buy it myself.”

“Yeah, but I’m still gonna get it for you anyways.”

You stop in the kitchen and grab the little bag of grapes out of the fridge. “I don’t need you to get it for me Lan.” You’re too preoccupied with figuring out how to fit everything into your small purse to see the utterly confused look on Lando’s face.

“Ok forget about the necklace. Why the hell are you bringing grapes with you?”

“Incase I get hungry.” You reply without missing a beat.

“There will literally be food at the party. I even made sure Max got those little cocktail sausages you like.”

And there he goes again, making those feelings you’ve tried and are still presently trying to push down come to the surface all because of some damn cocktail sausages. “I appreciate that Lan, but I’ve been on a grape kick lately. Just can’t seem to get enough of them.”

With your purse finally closed with the grapes securely inside, you head towards the door, more than ready to get to the party.

“I’ll text Max and tell him to get some grapes delivered.” Lando mumbles as he closes the door behind him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You’d never considered yourself much of a party girl, but there must have been something in the air tonight because you were living it up. From the dancing to the drinking and then to top it off somehow in the middle of everything you showed off your DJing skills with Lando.

Somehow you’d managed to unglue yourself from Lando for a moment and ended up in the kitchen among the various kinds of alcohol. You’re pouring the last bit of coke into your coke and malibu when Max comes up beside you.

“I see you finally escaped from Lando for a moment.”

An airy laugh emits from you. “Yeah, he’s been a little clingy tonight.” You state as you turn and lean back against the counter, facing the large crowd of people.

Max copies your actions, but not before grabbing a beer. “What are you talking about tonight? When he’s back home it’s like you two are conjoined at the hip.” Which was true, but you didn’t get to see Lando as much as you’d like, so you make the most of what you can. “Oh forgot to tell you, your grapes are in the fridge.” He motions towards the stainless steel appliance with his beer bottle. “Lando better pay me back. Do you know how much I paid to get that damn bag delivered? Absolutely insane.”

Your mouth forms an ‘O’ shape at Max’s words. “I heard him mention something about asking you to get some when we were leaving. I thought he was just joking.”

Max scoffs. “There is no such thing as Lando joking when it comes to you. Think he’d chop off his own arm to make sure you were happy. Hell if you needed an organ he’d be the first one in line to give you one.”

This time it’s your turn to scoff. “No he wouldn’t.”

“Why do you do that?” Max groans.

You narrow your eyes at him, confused as to what he was referring to. “Do what?”

“Act like he doesn’t think the world of you.”

Your mouth opens to reply, but no words come out. Instead you bring your cup to your lips and fill the void with your drink. What Max had said was true, but you couldn’t help it. You figured if you forced yourself to think that Lando didn’t care that deeply about you, then those feelings that you harbor for him wouldn’t rise to the surface. It didn’t help that his behavior recently had you thinking that perhaps he felt the same about you and when you have your mutual friends in your ear implying that to be true it just makes things that much harder for you.

“You probably haven’t even noticed that he’s been practically watching us talk this whole time have you?”

You can feel your heart rate start to speed up just at the thought of it. As your eyes scan the room they finally land on the Brit standing in the corner with some other people, but he’s not actually engaging in the conversation, he’s too busy staring back at you. Somehow from across the room you can still see those pretty mixture of blue and green eyes of his sparkle and when he realizes you're finally looking back at him a shy smile spreads across his face before he’s quickly looking away.

“Wish you two would stop dancing around each other and just admit what we all already know.” Max mumbles before taking a swig of his beer.

Maybe it’s the mixture of alcohol and the fact that you’ve once again got someone in your ear about Lando and you, but you can sense those feelings starting to claw their way back up and you aren’t sure if you can push them back down tonight.

“Ten minutes until midnight!” The DJ’s voice travels through the apartment and you’re sure Max will be getting some kind of fee taped to his door in the morning.

Max says something about talking to you later before exiting the kitchen and you realize with ten minutes till midnight that you’ve got to get your grapes and find a table to fit under. For the moment you push Lando to the back of your mind and focus on your very important task at hand.

Luckily for you Max had a decently sized dining table in his apartment so with your grapes in hand you crawled under the table, which thankfully was shielded by a tablecloth, and settled in for your feast.

Lando on the other hand had been searching for you everywhere since the ten minute announcement. He’d literally just seen you in the kitchen with Max and then when he looked back again you were both gone. He’d gone in the bathrooms, the bedrooms, the closets, every single place he could think you would be and it’s like you had vanished. Max had a large apartment, especially to be living in London, but it wasn’t that big to allow for you to not be found. His texts to you had gone unanswered and he began to think maybe you had left, but he knew you would have told him if you were leaving, so that theory went out the window.

When the five minute announcement hit his ears he began asking people if they had seen you and with each no or i think she was in the kitchen a while ago he received his hopes of finding you before midnight started to diminish.

He’d finally worked up the courage to tell you how he’d felt tonight. After years of holding himself back and not wanting to ruin what you two already had, he’d decided that life was too short and that he would come to regret not allowing himself to truly love you like he should. He knew you were the one and there wasn’t a bone in his body that didn’t think you didn’t feel the same. So, he was finally going to bite the bullet tonight and he wanted you to be the person he was kissing as the clock struck twelve. But if he couldn’t find you, then how in the world was he supposed to do that?

Lando was honestly starting to get worried over not being able to find you, screw the whole love confession at this point. What if something had happened to you? He’d been all over Max’s place countless times and he still couldn’t find you. With the official countdown echoing through the apartment he decided to just say fuck it and head to your place and see if you had gone home.

As he was heading to get his coat a familiar sparkly heel sticking out from under the dining table caught his attention. It was the same type of heels he’d seen you put on earlier and he did somewhat of a double take. He wondered if it was the couple drinks he’d had messing with him because why would you be sitting under Max’s dining table?

He crouches down and slowly lifts the table cloth up, unsure of what he’s going to find underneath it. Everyone is only getting louder and with five seconds until midnight what he finds staring back at him under the table is not at all how he expected his night to end up. There you are with your now empty bag of grapes on the floor and your cheeks stuffed full of said grapes. You resemble something of a chipmunk and Lando can’t help but laugh at you.

“What the hell are you doing down here?”

The excessively loud shouting of happy new year from everyone while noise makers and confetti fill the air distract both Lando and you for a moment. He didn’t think this is the position he’d be in right now, he figured he’d be in that crowd with his lips on yours like so many others right now. While you on the other hand didn’t think you’d be caught in such an embarrassing situation, not to mention you hadn’t even gotten all your grapes down, so this stupid thing was probably all for nothing.

His attention is back on you in no time and he really wants to know what you were doing. Were you that addicted to grapes that you had to hide under the table while you got your fix? If so, he may need to have a talk with you.

“Seriously, why are you hiding under the table stuffing grapes into your mouth?” He prods again.

Your mouth is still so full of the grapes that you can’t really talk and all you can manage to get out is leave while simultaneously trying to jab his leg with your heel. You were embarrassed and at this point scared you might choke on the grapes, and you’d rather go out in peace then have Lando cause a scene because you were choking.

“Ouch!” Lando yelps as your heel finally makes contact with him. You know he’s being dramatic because you barely even kicked him, but you would try anything for him to drop that table cloth and let you be. “Come on, come out from under there.” Lando grabs your arm and practically forces you to come out from under the table.

Luckily, everyone else was too preoccupied with still ringing in the New Year to see you crawl out and as you dust yourself off you're still chomping on the last couple grapes left. The party only seems to be getting crazier and you don’t really feel like staying here until the party inevitably ends at an ungodly hour in the morning, especially now that your plan for love has undoubtedly failed.

You finally swallow the last couple grapes and take a deep breath, the fear of choking and embarrassment now behind you. “Do you care if I leave? Not really feeling the party that much anymore.”

Lando doesn’t even question your request. “I’ll walk you home, let me grab our coats and tell Max we are leaving.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The cold England air hits you as you exit Max’s apartment building and you’re thankful that your place isn’t very far from his. It’s silent between Lando and you for some time, the sound of your heels on the pavement, fireworks in the distance, and other people celebrating are the only things you two hear.

“Can I ask you something?” Lando finally breaks the silence.

“Shoot.”

He takes a deep breath fully knowing once he opens this locked away side of him that there’s no going back. “Have you ever thought about us?”

You feel your heart skip a beat at his question, yet you try to remain cool and collected. “What do you mean?”

He stops in his tracks causing you to mimic his actions. “Like,” he motions between the two of you, “us.”

There’s not a doubt in your mind about what he’s referring to and yes you do think about the two of you. Yet your brain feels scrambled once you're actually confronted with the possibility of Lando feeling the same as you. You’d tried so hard to ignore the feelings, hell you’d tried something you saw on the internet to hopefully bring a different man into your life to finally squash those feelings. You’d just never thought you’d be in this position though and it’s throwing you into a whirlwind.

Lando isn’t sure what your silence means and he figures he’s already started, he might as well just fully admit it at this point.

“Fuck it. I told myself I was going to do this tonight and I’m not gonna chicken out again.” His cheeks are rosy from the cold and you can tell by the way his pretty eyes dart all around your face that he’s trying to figure out how to say what he wants to say. “I’ve got feelings for you.” He finally blurts out.

“No scratch that I’m in love with you Y/N. Think I have been for some time now. I’ve tried telling you how I felt for what seems like ages, but I’ve always been too scared to. I’ve been afraid that you wouldn’t feel the same and to me I’d rather bottle up my feelings and keep you in my life then tell you how I feel and lose you. But clearly I’ve grown tired of that and realized that the reward would be higher than the risk. You’re my person Y/N. I couldn’t imagine life without you and to have you be mine would make life that much better. So here I am baring my heart to you on some street in London on New Year’s Eve. I actually had a whole plan on how I was-”

His rambling while you loved most of the time was cut off by your desire to shut him up with your lips on his and you did just that. You grabbed him by his coat and pulled him into you, your lips crashing together. It takes him a moment to realize what's happening, but when his brain finally starts to work and he kisses you back it’s everything you could have imagined and more.

Kissing Lando is like heaven on Earth and the way his soft lips feel against yours has you wishing you would have just stopped being so stubborn and listened to your friends ages ago. His large warm hands come out of his pockets and he cups your face as he deepens the kiss, which has you feeling lightheaded and warm all over.

There’s fireworks being let off not too far away that light up the sky above you, but you’re too engrossed in each other to pay them much mind. It’s truly like a scene straight out of a movie and you know you’ll remember this moment forever.

You two finally pull away to breathe and it’s like you can see the world in a whole new way. The depressing grey landscape of London in the winter time suddenly looks like it was painted in technicolor and neither of you can wipe the cheek hurting grin off your faces. “So I guess you feel the same?” He asks.

“Yes Lando Norris, I’m in love with you too. Have been for a while and like you I didn’t want to ruin what we already have. To me there was no possible way that you felt the same and I hate rejection and the idea of losing you. So, I went on a million dates trying to find someone that would replace how I felt about you, but I guess you can’t replace someone who your heart has already laid claim to.”

You feel Lando intertwine your fingers with his and it’s like everything just feels right in the world.

“I’m glad we stopped being so stubborn and that I don’t have to see you out with all those random guys anymore.”

“Believe me, none of them even came close to comparing to you. It was like going on a date with a sack of potatoes most of the time.”

His infectious laugh fills your ears and you feel your heart swell. You can’t believe this was what you were depriving yourself of for so long.

The rest of the walk back to your apartment is spent walking hand in hand. All while little giggles escape each of you ever so often and Lando occasionally kisses you on the head or lifts your intertwined hands up to plant a kiss there.

“I have to ask again. It’s really been bugging me. What were you doing under that table?” Lando asks as you near your apartment building. A loud groan emits from you and there isn’t anything less that you would want to talk about than that. “Come on, just tell me!”

“Fine! I saw this thing on the internet that if you eat twelve green grapes under a table at midnight that it’s supposed to bring you luck in the love department in the New Year. Like you’d find your soulmate or something. I was so desperate to try and get over these feelings I have for you so what we had wouldn’t be ruined that I was willing to try anything.”

He’s silent for a moment and then he looks at you with the biggest smile on his face. “Well I’d say it worked didn’t it? You’ve found love and not to be overzealous, but I’d say your soulmate too.”

You’re stunned for a moment when you realize that yes, the grapes did work, just not in the way you planned. The universe had put Lando in your life years ago and for some weird reason had you wait this long to finally truly be in one another's lives, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Hell, you’d eat a whole package of grapes if that meant Lando and you got to be together in every lifetime.

“They did, didn't they? I guess almost choking to death was worth it in the end.”

“I mean I know I’m every woman’s dream, but you didn’t almost have to kill yourself to get my attention baby.”

You playfully slap his arm as he laughs at you. That big head of his was sometimes fully ego and you realized you were going to have to put up with it all the time now. “Oh shut up.”

“Yeah, but you love me.” He states before pressing a kiss to your lips, which has your mind feeling like TV static once again.

When you pull away and look him in the eyes there’s nothing but pure love staring back at you and you know that this is who is meant to be in your life, till the end. “More than you’ll ever know.”

The next morning you receive a group text from Max with Lando and you in it.

max: why have i found an empty bag with what looks to be a grape stem in it under my dining table??? i fully know it was one of you.

you: i don’t know what you're talking about.

lando: me either. no grapes were consumed by us last night. must have been someone else.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fic #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #mine #writing

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moviestarmartini · 9 months ago

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alta suciedad. — franco colapinto x f!reader

summary: while interviewing franco, you misunderstood what he meant with 'talented with his tongue'. lucky for you, he's more than willing to actually show you his skills.

wc: 2.9k

warnings: interviewer!reader, hispanic!reader, porn with an ounce of plot, set during media day of the austin gp, casual sex, oral sex (fem recieving), p in v, unprotected sex, pull out and pray, mean dom!franco, dumbification, degradation, a teeny amount of praise, aftercare, spanglish/sentences in spanish.

A/N: based on this request and took some inspo from this other anon, i'm literally giggling typing this in order to publish it. no specific song for today even though there's a few references even in the title. hope y'all are hungry!!

“I’m talented with my tongue.”

You didn’t have that much experience when it came to interviewing professionally— you’d been a kid reporter at the same sport you strived to get there, and in the course of getting there, you’ve seen a thousand and one million things that impressed you.

But this?

Your mouth hung open, giving him a few rapid blinks while your brain processed the information.

“You wanna see?” Franco Colapinto insisted, not reading your expression well enough, or ignoring it at the very least.

“¿Aquí?” You blinked, unable to process the event in the main language of the paddock. You were one of the youngest reporters there, but that didn’t mean you were inexperienced. That had just completely caught you off guard.

Franco cocked a brow before showing you and the camera how he could manipulate said organ so the sides touched and a tiny hole formed in the middle.

Yet again he surprised you, or more you surprised yourself with how further down the gutter your mind was at.

“Oh, good!” You snapped out of it, but he had seemingly finally connected the dots, or so the smirk in his face made it seem like it.

“Well, thank you for having us, Franco. Good luck during the weekend.” Your composure was back not even two seconds later, the cameraman soon signaled the transmission was off. A relieved sigh left your lips while your shoulders relaxed, giving your coworker the mic and transmitter to take to the media tent just a few steps away.

You were just turning back to head there as well, ready to get immersed in writing a report before your name was called. Your heels turned you around by force of habit, not realizing the tone in the driver’s voice might mean trouble.

“Yes?” You asked politely, hands clasped in front of you to avoid any chance of fidgeting. Your little crush was idiotic, or so you considered it from the day you first interviewed him.

“¿Qué vas a hacer hoy?” He took a step closer in order to ask the question, hands stuffed in the front pockets of his jeans.

“¿Perdón?” You realized that sounded rude, your voice repeating a better answer soon after. “Seguir trabajando, why?” A frown settled between your brows, head leaning slightly to the right. Where was this going exactly? The confusion only settled further when you noticed his eyes darting around before leaning in.

“Si querés que de verdad te enseñe que puedo hacer con mi lengua, entra al motorhome después de las siete, te dejo la puerta de atrás abierta. Mi cuarto está a la izquierda.” And with that, he pulled away, turned around and left.

You did the same, convinced the idea was just a figment of your imagination, the drought you’ve been suffering for more than a year to get there tricking every nerve in your brain to believe those words. It was settling into the late afternoon, and you worked at a pace Sonic would envy. His words bounced around your gray matter, and after much debating you stayed after the six pm mark, when everyone else left. You peered your head out of your station noticing how the place was almost empty. It was Thursday after all, the whole crews were not active until the following day.

The curiosity got the best of you, and you packed your bag to head there, skittish at the sight of anyone who crossed your way— or at least the few that did.

No one was used to walking behind the team buildings, never mind during what’s considered after hours. Your breath got stuck in your throat when you noticed the door ajar, and no one came in nor out to justify the fact.

“Thought you wouldn’t come.” Franco’s voice snapped you out of the hesitation, arms crossed over his chest.

“I thought I was supposed to come in by myself.” You got the bravery to counter with the way your heart sped up with adrenaline coursing through your veins.

“You’re late.” Franco’s response was quick, witty. His tone made you raise your brow; it was… different. Commanding, you could pinpoint.

“I shouldn’t come out and get you, vení.” Before you could even process it, he took your arm and dragged you inside, going straight down the hallway and taking a left before the door closed shut— no witnesses visible to what he had just done.

“You can sit wherever you like.” He invited, his voice was back to its playful tone. You nodded, putting your bag down by the door and sitting on the small couch near a corner.

“Sos muy bonita, ¿sabías?” He complimented while finishing to fix up his room, side eyeing you.

“Why am I here? What do you want?” You asked bluntly, not accepting the compliment.

“Look, if you wanted me to write positively about you on the piece, you already got it.” You carefully watched him take a seat next to you, and you both turned to face each other.

“Tonta también, ¿no?” It was as if you were ignoring each other’s words, and before you could get offended, his fingertips brushed your hair out of the way of your face. Any smart quip you could’ve thrown at him flew out the window, your lips parting.

“That’s just how you looked at me earlier. When you thought I was referring to something dirty. Tontita.” He inched closer. You couldn’t help but do the same, a bit eagerly, eliciting a laugh out of his lips.

“Do you like me?” It was his turn to be blunt. Without hesitation you nodded, squeezing your lips into a thin line after realizing that might’ve been a mistake. An embarrassing one at that.

“No pasa nada. Vos también me gustás preciosa…” His voice trailed with his head leaning closer, lips brushing against the prickled skin of your neck. “…inteligente…” A kiss pressed to the area. “…y al parecer, puta.”

The gasp disappeared between the blurred lines of your lips and his crashing, the term disappearing in your mind while you kissed him. Your hands gripped the material of his team shirt while his own lowered down your back, pulling you closer, almost on top of his lap.

“¿Hacés esto mucho? Sneak into other drivers’ rooms?” He asked while leaning back down to kiss your neck with a twinge of more harshness, ragged breath leaving your lips while you shook your head ‘no’

“¿Sos muda? Habla.” There was that commanding tone again, his fingers delving into the skin of your thighs to squeeze what he wanted out of you.

“No. Nunca.” You replied with a gulp, leaning your head back to recieve more kisses as a reward for your answer.

“So I’m the lucky winner?” It sounded something between a compliment and a joke, and you decided to humor him a little with a smile.

“One could say so.” You replied, thinking you’ve gotten the gist of it.

“I’m surprised. With that skirt…” He shook his head after tutting, making you figure out the context of his words. You were into it enough to not get offended by the allegation, normally would have defended yourself with the fact it was terribly hot outside. You didn’t like dressing similar to the rest of the reporters in the paddock, and maybe this once it played both in your favor and against it… sort of.

His lips captured yours again, his tongue swiping your bottom lip. You weren’t dumb— even if he liked to say so— parting your lips without complaint, feeling the way your tongues tangled together while he pushed you down until your back hit the fabric of the furniture.

The open mouth kisses started redirecting their path down your jaw, following a trail down the length of your neck. He took the opportunity to breathe your scent.

“Olés tan rico,” He groaned, the growing erection in his jeans pressing against your upper thigh.

“I can already imagine how that pretty pussy tastes. Can’t wait to make you cum just using my tongue.” The idea made you shudder, his hands raising your top to move it out of the way while he kept kissing back. You took the initiative to just pull it over your head and throw it somewhere else.

“You’re so good, stripping for me without having to ask.” Franco cooed, his pace slowing down when his mouth reached down your belly button, making him look at him expectantly.

What you didn’t expect was for him to just tug on your denim skirt up to completely move it out of the way without removing the piece, his knuckles brushing the spot marked with your aroused slickness, your hips involuntarily twitching to lean closer into his touch.

“Si solo te he besado y ya estás re mojadita,” Another coo left his mouth, this one with a certain amount of jest in it. You felt deeply embarrassed in a way your face displayed it, only making his smile grow in size.

Franco almost ripped off the underwear and chucked it somewhere in the room. No moment to adapt was left at your disposition, his tongue pressing flat against your wet core. The noise of a moan coming from you clashed with the hum of satisfaction he felt from the sheer taste of you.

“So sweet,” Franco praised, and those were the last words to come out of his mouth before he started to back up his words from earlier.

The whole situation felt like a dream. Not only the fact he made an advance upon noticing how far down the gutter your mind was, but the fact you even came there in the first place. Not that you regretted it, with how he flicked that sensitive nub with the tip of his tongue.

You didn’t believe his promise earlier— thinking it was just silly dirty talking— but he was proving you wrong. Your moans were the perfect evidence, fingers tangling in his curls while his left hand rose up to grope your exposed breast.

The shuffling noise outside the room made him perk up and away from your dripping cunt, chin glistening with your wetness. He pulled his index fingers to his lips to signal you to be quiet before continuing, but his attempt fell futile. You were reaching your release quick, his magic working a little too well. There was no warning; his other hand left the grip on your thigh to cover your mouth, holding it down a bit too roughly to send a message.

Your muffled moans and cries only set him off, teasing your entrance before licking the trail up to your clitoris, suckling on it. He fluttered his eyes open, and the sight was nothing but completely arousing. Your eyes were rolled back, column arching up while his expert affections tipped you over the edge. Your thighs simultaneously shivered and lightly squeezed his head, and it was enough for Franco to decide he was in heaven.

Once the overwhelming sensation started to wear off, your legs relaxed, allowing him to pull away. With a clearer mind you noticed how his chin and lips glistened before removing the substance with the back of his hand, as if it was just sauce from an actual meal.

“¿Por qué me mirás así?” Franco wondered at your blissful expression. “¿Ya te enamoraste, putita?” There was no verbal answer; he was eager to link his lips with yours again in yet another sloppy makeout session. This once, however, you couldn’t pretend you didn’t feel his erection pressing against your inner thigh.

Taking initiative, your hand lowered down his torso to fumble the button of his pants a little before being able to undo it. A groan followed by teeth tugging at your bottom lip was the reaction you gained from jerking him off slowly under his underwear. That gave you enough confidence to swipe your thumb across the leaking tip in order to tease him.

The sound of a moan from him echoed inside your mouth, a hum from satisfaction leaving consequently. However, your moment of dominance soon faded with his hand slapping yours away before spreading your legs even further— to the point it pulled on the muscles of your inner thigh just a little, the burning sensation mushing with pleasure— the skirt hiking up to rest on your torso.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He leaned in to whisper, feeling him nudge your entrance in order to tease you. The sensation that followed was something similar to your brain shutting down, managing to only nod. The smell of his cologne, his body pressing down on you.

Franco, Franco, Franco, Fran—

“¿Qué pasa tontita? Say it.” He egged you on, threatening to push himself inside, but not making it far enough to bring you satisfaction.

“Yes, por favor.” You begged, getting a chaste kiss for a reward followed by the intrusion spreading your warm walls. You saw the way Franco tried to keep it together, the façade crumbling under a groan. You felt too good. His mind could only pinpoint your body under his, the warmth hugging his stiff dick and electrifying every nerve of his being.

His mind couldn’t stop chanting your name.

“Move,” You asked nicely, though it came out in a huff. He found himself too enthralled to complain at your tone, instead complying.

The lower tone of his moans harmonized with the high pitched of yours, the sound of skin frantically coming in contact filling up the room enough for both of you two to forget what could possibly be going on outside. At least it had been a while since you last heard people outside doing whatever.

“Dios, que apretadita estás,” Franco groaned out loud, his lips brushing against yours. You took the leap, closing the distance between the two of you. But you couldn’t get much out of it due to your own fault, moans interrupting the session.

“No, besáme.” You whined when he pulled away slightly, and a smirk rose at his lips before he locked them with yours, pace increasing. You struggled to engage further, the moans and groans interrupting.

“No, besáme.” Franco replicated your plea from earlier before laughing between heavy breaths.

You couldn’t do anything but pucker your bottom lip out, not finding the words to complain about how mean he was being. Besides, all coherent thoughts disappeared the moment you felt your second orgasm peeking from behind you at a rapid rate. Your nails dug into the uncovered skin of his forearms, just below where the team shirt started covering his biceps.

“¿Por qué me apretás tanto?” He hissed before falling upon the realization, deciding to keep having his fun with you and slowing down.

“Fuck— ¡¿qué te pasa?!” You groaned, feeling the release reeling down into a sensation of being completely stuck midway.

“Dale, decime lo que quieres. De forma bonita, como vos.” He kept his thrusts slow and deep, trying to contain his own release from the pulsating walls squeezing the life out of his cock.

“I wanna cum,” You felt the embarrassment of having to request that out loud settle in your stomach, soon washed over by the sensation the quickening of his hips gave your core.

“Si, si. Franco, that’s it,” You cried out, hiding your face in the crook of his neck while your thighs shivered once more.

Your cunt was so warm and tight he almost didn’t pull out. Almost. After a groan left the back of his throat, droplets of white painted your lower abdomen, thankfully not staining your skirt.

He kept himself supported by his forearms, allowing him to lean in and kiss your forehead and cheeks.

There wasn’t much to be said, you knew that, and so did he. Carefully, he fixed his underwear and pants before getting up, muttering something under his breath in his attempt to find the wet wipes he knew he had… somewhere in the organized clutter of his room.

“Dejá que te limpio,” His voice was tender, the wet tissue dragging across your skin to remove the seminal liquid, before another carefully cleaned the sweat off your forehead and neck.

You thanked him with a nod, unable to hold eye contact for long. Once you felt comfortable you sat up, fixing your clothes and hair before getting up on your legs, still a bit wobbly. You took it upon yourself to clean the damp spot on the couch where you laid, still embarrassed by the whole ordeal.

Quickly, you slipped your underwear on, unaware of the pair of eyes following your every move with a cold calculation.

“¿Qué vas a hacer hoy?” The question he asked to what seemed to be ages ago popped up again, making you turn, just as confused as you were earlier.

“Dormir… cenar. Ya veremos, dijo el ciego.” At your cheeky response his laughter echoed through the room, arms folded over his torso.

“¿Habrá un espacio para mí en esa cena o nos vemos mañana a la misma hora?” He took a step closer. Then another. And another. Until he stood in front of you, leaning down enough to whisper in your ear.

“No importa si no me querés ver hoy en la noche todo caballeroso, mañana procura llegar a tiempo y controlar esa boquita.” Yet again, his voice electrified goosebumps all over your skin.

What did you just get yourself into?

#𓈒ㅤׂ 𓇼✽ — writing !#franco colapinto #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto x you #fc43 #fc43 x reader #fc43 x you #franco colapinto fanfic #franco colapinto smut #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 smut

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sketchtastrophee · 5 months ago

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more old art!! featuring theo and my human harley fan design!! RUN THEODORE RUN (he's cooked)

im gonna talk about chapter 4 under here so only click if ur ok with spoilers! also its a huge yapfest. like HUUGE. i just want to voice my opinions about prototype because i've seen ppl sort of miss the point of what happened at the end of the chapter

I LOVED CHAPTER 4! IT WAS SO COOL!! i was sooo worried but im glad it turned out good. rip pianosaurus tho..

tldr (for the bunch of paragraphs where I talk abt prototype)

prototype being ollie is deranged because it means he was terrorizing the toys of safe haven on purpose for the fun of it when he could have killed them at any time. he also created an extremely close emotional bond with poppy for OVER A DECADE just to tear it all away from her at the end and tell her it was meaningless (he then proceeds to taunt her over the phone abt it). bro is LITERALLY TROLLING

you cant tell me that final scene w the "ive got something special in mind. i prepared it just for you, and this time you'll never want to leave." isnt some tom and jerry shit

ABT PROTOTYPE REVEALING HIMSELF AS OLLIE... (the long explanation)

we ALL knew he was ollie, but i don't think people are seeing the point of this reveal. it wasn't about revealing himself to us the player, it's about the implications that arise from it. he had been playing both sides for 10+ YEARS. that's deranged enough but not even CLOSE to the end of it

as ollie he had emotionally supported poppy in her lowest moments (as heard in the ollie and poppy tape). this tape also insinuates that (at least around the time it was recorded) the two of them called frequently, possibly every night. he wasn't just pretending to be everyone's ally, he was PRETENDING TO BE THEIR CLOSEST FRIEND THAT THEY COULD VENT TO 😭 he heard this poor girl sob into the phone and tell him about how she felt her humanity being taken from her, AND HE KEPT UP THE CHARADE AND COMFORTED HER, KNOWING THIS PATH HAD BAD INTENTIONS

what's worse than all of that, though, is that him being ollie means that at any time in the last 10 years he could have used the persona to force his way into safe haven. AT ANY TIME HE COULD HAVE KILLED THEM ALL. HE COULD SIMPLY USE THE OLLIE VOICE AND ASK THEM TO OPEN THE DOOR. why is this worse, you ask? because HE WAS LITERALLY TERRORIZING THEM ON PURPOSE.

think about the note in the cart/cave area. a toy from safe haven writes that prototype was right outside the door the night before, he'd gotten past the traps and was just tapping on the wall and staring. they said after he was gone they still felt they could hear it. HE IS LITERALLY BEING SCARY ON PURPOSE???? LEGIT TRAUMATIZING THEM AND FOR NO REASON. HE COULD GET IN THERE, HE'S SIMPLY CHOOSING TO MAKE THEIR LIVES HELL

so thats crazy.. BUT ALSO THE ENDING? in the poppy and ollie tape he says "im right here, poppy. for you. i'll always be here." AND AT THE END OF THE GAME, WHEN POPPY ASKS WHAT HE DID WITH OLLIE, HE SAYS THAT. you know what that means? that means he said that shit to her ALL THE TIME. clearly only the two of them would be familiar with the phrase which is why after he said it, she immediately knew he was ollie the whole time

i feel bad for poppy. she ran off but she was valid for that. all her friends from safe haven are dead, the only ones left are the player, kissy and ollie, but she soon realizes that ollie is WORSE than dead. he is LITERALLY HER ENEMY. the thousands of conversations they had, probably hundreds of times she vented and told him her plans and discussed her life with him? ALL FOR NOTHING. any time she thought she was winning the past 10 years was a lie, she was ALWAYS LOSING because he was GETTING ALL THE INFO FROM THEM. she genuinely never had a chance and i think she realized that

in her dialogue you can tell she's grieving ollie (obviously he IS prototype, but i think she's grieving the thought of him). saying "you lied to me" to the prototype of all people is absurd (considering he's done far worse than lie) but when you think about how she feels, it makes sense.

also the part where she said "this isn't right". again, a weird thing to say to him of all people, but if you put yourself in her shoes she's grieving the friend she thought she had, and she's struggling to grapple with the fact that it all meant nothing. somewhere in her mind she believes "ollie" as a personality is there somewhere, because how could someone be that close with you and mean none of it? she thinks that voicing this pain he's inflicted will change his mind, but it won't. and that's why it's genuinely really sad. that's why she asks if there was ever an ollie. i don't think she meant it literally, and i don't think his answer was literal either. she didn't mean "were you a mf named ollie once" she meant it like "was our friendship ever genuine?" which makes his response both heartbreaking and interesting.

so not only is her world shattered now, most of her friends are dead and the one who wasn't turned out to be her opp, but now he's TAUNTING HER OVER THE PHONE AND THREATENING HER. nice one... (loved the quip after she ran off btw. that shit was hilarious. like bro u made her crash out and went "some friend, huh?" YOU CANT SAY THAT BRO)

anyway think of it from her perspective: everyone you knew is gone, and soon the only 2 people that remain will be too. you can't run, or hide, or do anything. he WILL find you, and when he does he'll lock you away FOREVER where NOBODY WILL BE LEFT TO SAVE YOU. I WOULD RUN TOO.............. plus her running off probably led him away so.. she saved us sorta.

ALL THAT TO SAY THAT I REALLY LIKE THE OLLIE REVEAL FOR REASONS FAR BEYOND A SIMPLE TWIST. him being ollie for over a decade raises many many questions, and suggests very dark things.

hes crazy and the fact he did a monologue means he knows he won. he wouldn't have spilled the beans otherwise...

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maedae-maedae · 18 days ago

Text

Try It

☆ Monkey D. Luffy x F!Reader

☆ Genre: Fluff (possible future smut), Pining

☆ Warnings: N/A (for now)

☆ Contents: First Kiss, First Time, Innocence, Pining, Discovery, Oblivious Luffy, Friendship/Love

☆ Word Count: 4.5k

☆ Summary: You’ve long been pinning for your captain, maybe since the very first day you first set sail as a strawhat pirate. But knowing him, he’s never and probably will never show interest in anything romantic— let alone for you. Maybe you’ll always be destined to admire him from afar as he chases his dreams. Or maybe one silly little bet on a random night will change your relationship forever…

☆ A/N: you guys are never gonna believe this… im not actually caught up on one piece 🥀 think of this fic happening around the 400 episode mark?? there might be some things that wouldn’t make sense for later lore (i don’t know) and ofc were missing the last strawhat. the rating for this fic might also change later… im not sure if i wanna make this a smut fic or not, but for now its very wholesome :3

other than that, hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1 - The Bet

“I’m telling you, there’s no way in a million years!“ Nami tells you for maybe the thousandth time, leaning (a bit drunkenly) on the stair rail behind her as the two of you sit on the steps together.

“Wanna bet?” You ask her with a certain mischievous look. For a moment she looks a little surprised, then her expression slowly mirrors yours. You know how much she likes a good bet, especially when the odds seem to be in her favor.

“I like those odds. You’re on.” She tells you gladly. You know her too well.

“I want in too.” Zoro’s voice suddenly appears behind you two, making you both jump out of your skin.

“Jerk! Don’t sneak up on us like that!!!” Nami shouts, giving the green haired pirate a good smack on the head.

“Did you hear all of that?!” You ask directly after, a bit mortified because you’ve never told anyone but Nami about this. Though you suppose there are probably others on the ship who have caught on, you’re not exactly that subtle. Unfortunately.

“Yeah, and I’m with Nami.” He says easily, like his confirmation is not very embarrassing for you. “There’s no way you’re getting the captain interested in anything like that. I’ve never seen it once in my time sailing with him.”

“Exactly. That boy is totally unamused by the entire idea.” Nami agrees, “But honestly, I’d still like to see you try.”

You frown at both of them. You know all of this to be true, but you don’t like to admit it. You’ve been admiring and pinning for your captain all this time, yet ultimately knowing better than to actually pursue him. It’s like they said, he’s never really seemed much interested in the idea of romance , not to mention that he’s specifically never shown any of that type of interest in you . Romantically, that is.

You remember when he invited you into his crew, your vulnerable and crying self parallel to his bright-as-the-sun smile. He wanted you to sail with him, be by his side for the coming future. Despite it being the same thing he’d done for most your crew, for a moment it made you feel special, feel like a person who is capable of great things. It was that moment that you fell in love with him. You never had a chance really, you were hooked since your first day of pirating. Luffy gave you many things; confidence, bigger purpose in life, hope, friendship, sanctuary. But you selfishly crave more from him. Is that so bad? Maybe thats why you’ve never quite tried, feeling tied to the role you occupy in his life and the gratitude you should hold for him at all times.

But maybe today, just once, you can try to be a little selfish.

“…Fine. I’ll take both of you on for the bet.” You say, crossing your arms and doubling down (literally).

“Alright!! What are we thinking? Five hundred thousand berries?” Nami beams, a little too excited about this. Does she have that little faith in you??

“Five-?! What, each? Do you think Im rich?!” You gawk at her.

“I can accept a payment plan.” She shrugs.

“No, no.. I know you and your debts…” You mumble, side-eyeing her as you look away for a moment to think.

“Well, you don’t have to do the bet. If you’re that unsure of-“

“Alright, alright…” You quiet her before she can taunt you. “How about.. two hundred thousand each.”

“Two hundred fifty?”

“Fine.”

“Woo-hoo!” She throws her hands in the air and then turns to look at your crewmate. “Zoro? That sounds good for you?”

“Hell yeah it does.” He grins, folding his arms and leaning back as if he’s 100% sure of the outcome being that he’ll be two hundred fifty berries richer tonight.

“Ugh, you guys are the worst.” You groan and push yourself up to stand.

“Hey, you brought this upon yourself.” Zoro tells you and you stick your tongue out at him.

“Whatever. Get ready to lose.” You tell them with only partially-fake confidence, as you turn away.

“Good luck!” Nami waves to you with a smile despite you already walking away. “Oh this is gonna be good.”

“I’ll say.” Zoro grins at her.

As you make your way to Luffy across the deck, your heart does pick up a few paces. Glancing around, the others are busy thankfully. Chopper and Usopp are dancing around with Brook while he plays some quite fitting music for the situation actually. Upbeat but somehow romantic even without any type of lyrics. Robin is relaxing on the upper deck reading a book, franky probably keeping her company. You don’t see Sanji, you imagine he’d be inside preparing meals for tomorrow at this time. That’s good, he’d probably only interfere or worse; freak out if you were lucky enough to actually get anything out of this bet.

You take a deep breath as you set your sights back on Luffy, getting close. You just have to think of this as any other conversation with him, just be natural. He looks so cute, staring at a map at the top of the stairs on the opposite side of the ship from where you just were.

You approach your straw hat captain finally, feeling a bit more doubt than you were before suddenly. Not enough to make you back down, though. You got this.

“Hey Luffy!” You call to him right before you can take a seat across from him. He looks up at you from Nami’s map he was priorly investigating. His immediate smile at seeing you is contagious and it makes your heart flutter like usual.

“Hey, [Y/n]! What’s up?”

“What you doin’ with the map?” You ask him curiously and you both peer forward at it.

“Just thinkin.” He says simply, and you look at him curiously.

“I still can’t believe I’m really getting to sail the grand line with my crew. I wanna get as familiar with this map as possible.” He continues, still staring at it.

You smile fondly at him. You’re so happy he’s getting to achieve his dreams, and that you’re here to see it.

“You’re gonna be great when you finally become king of the pirates. I know it’s your destiny.” You tell him honestly and he looks at you a bit surprised before giving you his signature big grin.

“Thanks! I can’t wait!”

You continue to smile as he goes back to admiring this map. You’re happy to just sit with him like this, and suddenly you don’t even want to do what you came for and possibly ruin this moment. You glance up at the orange and green-haired pair watching you across the deck. They both give you a tipsy and somehow condescending smile. Nami gives you a thumbs up. They really don’t think you can do this.

“Hey, Luffy. Can I ask you something?” You speak suddenly, breaking the prior silence.

“Sure, anything.” He answers easily, still gazing down. Your heart flutters.

“It might be kinda weird.” You warn him and he finally glances up at you, attention peaked.

“Weird how?”

“I’m just curious..” You start, trailing off for a moment. You want to make this seem as natural as you can. Play it cool.

“Have you ever kissed anyone?”

“Huh??“ Comes his immediate surprise, his eyes widening a little. “Kissed someone? What, like, on the mouth?”

You giggle at his predictably silly reaction.

“Yes, on the mouth.” You confirm.

“No. Why would I? Seems gross.”

“Why’s that?”

“I dunno. Just does.”

Shut down.

Okay, you can still do this. Keep going.

“But don’t you think there’s a reason why so many people do it? Maybe it would feel good if it was someone you really liked, right?” You explain, trying not to be weird. Did that sound weird?

“Maybe. But I’ve never felt that way about anyone.” He shrugs, attention going back to the map.

Wow, okay. You have to admit that that one stung to actually hear out loud. You think you just might be down for the count after that. Ugh, you don’t really care about Zoro, but being in Nami’s debt does not sound fun. Why did you do this?

You gaze at the map again with Luffy, just continuing to have a bit of a pity party in your own brain.

“How would I even know, though?” He suddenly asks, drawing your attention back to him.

“Huh? Know what?” You ask.

“Know if I liked someone like that? How do people even know?”

You have to take a second to really think about that question. How do you explain the feeling to someone who’s supposedly never felt it?

“Well… You would probably think about them a lot, and want to be around them all the time, know everything about them, help them whenever you can. It would be the person you have the most fun with, like a best friend, but something more. They would make you really happy, and excited, but also nervous and anxious. You want to be better for them, always growing so you can protect them and care for them.” You list off things as you think about all the ways you know that you have feelings for him.

“A lot of that just sounds like stuff I feel for all my friends, though.” He frowns, confused.

“Yeah, well, I guess it’s pretty similar. But it’s definitely different.” You try to explain to him, though still contradicting yourself there. “You would probably just know. Someone who makes you feel different than anyone else. You think of them in different ways than you would with your friends. You’d want to do… romantic things with them. That kind of thing.”

“Huh…” He hums, putting his chin in his hand and looking off at the sea for a second to think about it.

The clear sky allowed for beautiful moonlight to shine down on the ship tonight. You stare at your captain as you admire him for the umpteenth time. You wish he would do the same for you, but you’re content enough with just getting to spend time with him like this, see him like this.

“Yeah.. I don’t think I’ve ever felt all that.” He says slowly, still gazing off. You ignore the ache this time and try to just be present in your conversation with him.

“That’s okay. Maybe you just don’t get those feelings. That’s totally fine.” You reassure him. It’s true, some people just don’t get feelings like that, aren’t able to. Maybe Luffy was like that. You’d considered it before.

“What?!” He shouts suddenly, whipping his head around to you. “That’s possible?! But I don’t want to miss out! If it’s so great like people say…”

His pouting pulls a short giggle out of you, and you turn to look at the sea this time. It looks so endless on nights like these. But the light reflecting off every surface around uou is certainly a beautiful sight.

“It’s not that great, really.” You sigh, wielding a bittersweet smile. “Honestly sometimes it’s kind of torture. But maybe you’ll still get to feel it one day, who knows? Maybe you just haven’t met the right person.”

It’s quiet for a few moments after that. You swear you can feel his eyes on you now, but you’re too afraid to look.

“So, you’ve liked someone like that before?” He asks you. You look back at him finally, a bit thrown.

“Well, yeah. Of course.”

He stares at you for a moment, that then turns into a lot more moments. So much time that it becomes kind of uncomfortable and you have to glance away. His face is stark blank, so you have no idea what this look means.

“Luffy?” You say cautiously, tilting your head a bit.

“Hm.” He hums, deciding to look back down at the map between you two. You frown, confused on whatever that just was.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothin.” He answers simply, and so you don’t push any further. Whatever. Maybe he got lost in thought about something totally unrelated. Your captain is kind of unpredictable like that.

There’s another silence, though more comfortable this time. Moreso than the map now, you start to admire Luffy’s hands in front of you. The sight along with Brook’s distant piano music and the sound of the waves calmly moving, makes this moment feel so tender and serine. You want to keep it with you to remember when times get hard.

“Still though.. I can’t imagine that kissing anyone at all would be all that great.” He speaks suddenly once more, and your head perks up again. He still looks particularly focused on the map, despite continuing this unrelated conversation.

“Even if I liked them all special, like you said.” He adds and you blink at him.

Oh, you feel an opening here.

“You don’t think it would be nice at all?” You continue, pulling it a bit further.

“Not really.”

“Well…” You start, and you bite your lip to contemplate if you’re really about to say this. Can you?

“Then…” You keep going and, finally, he looks up at you again slightly. His big brown eyes are a weakness of yours truly. And you realize it might just be now or never.

“Do you.. wanna try?” You finally ask cautiously, giving him a smile despite your nerves.

“What, kissing? With who?” He asks, obviously not getting the hint.

This is it. You can feel it. Your confidence is starting to come back and you can still feel those two’s eyes on you from across the ship. You feel like they’re about to be in for a show.

“I can show you, if you want.” You offer sweetly, and you do enjoy the way his reaction flusters in surprise as he realizes what you meant. You hardly see him get embarrassed, or whatever this is.

“H-HUH?! WITH YOU?!” He shouts obnoxiously, grabbing the other’s attention for a moment. You just keep smiling at him.

“[Y/n], are you drunk?” He questions you, raising an eyebrow.

What the hell! Why would that be his first assumption?!

“I am not!” You scoff in defense, and honestly you forgot that that was even a factor. Though it probably wasn’t. You hardly drank much at all and it was a while ago now. This is just what you wanted, drunk or sober. Sometimes, when you got drunk, Nami had to keep you away from the captain so you didn’t embarrass yourself in front of the crew. Not the point.

“You don’t have to, obviously, if you’re not comfortable. I’m just saying, if you’re really curious…” You tell him and trail off. You find it hard to keep eye contact, eyes wandering off and then running back to him again.

He stares at you, and he seems to be actually considering this, to your surprise. You continue to watch him contemplate it. Your heart feels like it’s going a million beats a second now.

“…Alright.” He concludes, and you’re not quite sure what that means by this. You wait for him to continue.

“I mean, can’t hurt to try and say I did it, right? Then I’ll know I’m not missing out on anything.” He tells you and- oh my god this is really happening. He just agreed to kiss you. Your eyes light up. You’re so excited to not only win this bet, but also get to be Luffy’s very first kiss.

“Okay! You want to do it now?” You ask him, just to make sure (and maybe a bit too eager).

“Sure, why not?” He tells you, staring at you intently. It’s a bit strange the way he immediately got over his embarrassment from a moment ago, but then again that is very Luffy of him.

The truth is though, that Luffy is actually nervous deep down. This thing that everyone seems to value so much and is apparently so intimate and great. He’d never really seen the appeal. But now that he’s agreed to do it with you, it’s suddenly got his stomach all in knots, a weird queasy feeling mixed with antsy anticipation. Is that what you were talking about earlier?

The two of you kind of just stare at eachother for a moment or two.

“Uh.. so.. how do I do it?” He asks you genuinely, like he has to wait for your instruction.

You smile and try not to tease him for his question. It’s an understandable one for someone who’s never done this. You’ve only done with one person in the past, but that still makes you more experienced.

“Just do whatever feels natural. Oh, and close your eyes. It’s weird to stare at the other person while kissing.” You tell him and he nods in understanding, eyebrows furrowed and cheeks a slight pink. He shuts his eyes tightly and waits, and you cant help not to silently giggle while he can’t see you.

Wow, you’re really doing this. And just on the deck like this, too. You totally thought he’d want to go somewhere private or something. Though, now it seems obvious that he wouldn’t care enough to want to hide.

You take one last look at the two people who are totally about to be in your debt, making eye contact. They have no idea what’s going on, rather confused compared to their earlier confidence in your failure.

You give them a cute wink before turning back to Luffy and finally leaning to place a soft kiss on his lips. You’re honestly half expecting him to shoot backwards in disgust, but he doesn’t. He seems unsure for a second, just kind of staying still, but after a few seconds ends up leaning into it. You can already hear the others freaking out from a distance, more than just Zoro and Nami after their initial shout of disbelief. You smile against his lips at your win, and take in one last moment with him like this before you pull back. The moment is so sweet, you already know you’ll never forget it for the rest of your life, even if you never get to do this with him again. And you are simultaneously accepting that the likeliness of this never happening again is pretty high. At the end of the day, Nami and Zoro were still right, Luffy has no real interest in romance. Of course you knew that. Still, it’ve killed you if you didn’t try. And thank god you did.

What happens next surprises you, though. When you do start to pull back slowly… his lips only follow you. You break for less than a second before you’re connected again. He doesn’t want to stop, keeping the two of you together himself. You almost gasp, totally taken off guard by the way he seems to take charge. Didn’t he say he’d never done this? Why does this feel so good?

This changes everything. Before this was just some sort of trial, nothing special between the two of you, something you were sure he wouldn’t end up liking anyways. But now… you start to get excited. There’s butterflies in your stomach and suddenly you’re nervous. This feels ten times more intimate than it did originally, and assumingely everyone is just watching you guys have this moment.

This goes on for a few more moments, many moments longer than you had originally anticipated. Still, you take in every bit of it. You forget where you are or what even started this. All you can think is how good Luffy’s lips feel on yours. Your fingers somehow come to intertwine on the map below you at the same time, like your bodies are in sync. His hands are smooth like rubber, and warm against yours, just like his lips.

This is perfect. You don’t want to stop. You could do this forever.

You pull back only when you feel Luffy start to. Only a few inches, faces still close. You’re both blushing with heavy breath, but your expressions couldn’t be more different. Your eyes are blown wide, still in shock from what just happened, and-

The fact that Luffys expression is—for lack of better description— lusted out. You’ve certainly never seen him look at you like this before, and you have to cover your mouth with your hand before it goes agape right in front of him.

“Um..” you push out embarrassingly sheepish behind your palm. “So.. how was that?”

You most definitely already know the answer from all of his body language, but you’d still like to know what he’s thinking.

“You were right.. that felt good.” He tells you genuinely, slowly coming to his senses again. A shiver runs up your spine by how smoothly and assuredly his words come out. Your face is still hot and he can’t stop staring at you. This is so unexpected, all of it. You weren’t ready.

“What about you?” He asks back suddenly.

“Me?”

“Yeah. It was my first time, so, how was I?”

“It was… really good. Are you sure that was your first time?” Your question is half joking and half genuine. You know that he’s definitely never done this before but seriously that felt way too incredible for your mind to really accept that fact. Luffy puts on a big grin after hearing your words.

“Hah! I was that good, huh?” He jokes, snickering. But his grin drops when he sees you’re not laughing with him, still with the same expression. “You okay?”

“Yeah! I’m great! Fine..” You assure him, sitting up straight again and finally letting your hand down from your face. As someone who’s had feelings for him for a long time now, and had already accepted that he’d never feel the same way, even while actively kissing with him. This has totally shaken you.

“LUFFYYYYYYY!!!!” Comes a familiar booming voice from your right. Uh oh.

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING WITH MY PRECIOUS [Y/N]?! DID YOU REALLY THINK YOU COULD TONGUE HER OUT ON THE DECK LIKE THIS AND GET AWAY WITH IT?!” He shouts as he grabs your captain by his vest and shakes him around.

“H-HUH?! TONGUE?! WHATS DO YOU MEAN?!” He shouts back, completely dazed and confused.

“DONT ACT OBLIVIOUS WITH ME! HOW DARE YOU CORRUPT HER PURE AND FRAGILE MIND WITH YOUR PERVERTED ACTIONS!! ARE YOU NOT ASHAMED?! YOURE HER CAPTAIN!!”

You stare in utter shock at those two, frozen in place. What can you even do here? Sanji is way too worked up for you to get a word in.

“BUT-SANJI-“ Luffy starts to protest.

“I DONT WANNA HEAR IT BUCKO. IM GONNA MAKE YOU PAY FOR THIS YOU HEAR ME?!-“

“SANJI!!!” Nami’s incoming voice booms even louder from behind him before he can say anything else. She gives him a hard smack on the head, knocking him out cold. Your jaw drops, though you really shouldn’t be shocked at something like that at this point.

“So sorry to interrupt! Continue!” She insists quickly as she goes to drag Sanji’s now unconscious body away from you guys.

“Uh. That’s okay. I was planning on going to bed soon anyways, I’m tired.” Luffy speaks up, making her stop and bringing your attention back to him. He outstandingly quickly seems to have gotten over all that shaking and screaming from just now.

“Tell Sanji I’m sorry for whatever he was upset about when he wakes up, kay?”

He then promptly stands and begins to walk towards the quarters. Both yours and Namis eyes follow him.

“Oh, um.. sure. If you say so.” She says, sounding a bit confused.

“[Y/n].” He says as he comes to a brief stop, not far from you yet.

“Yeah?”

“Earlier all that stuff you described, I think I felt that just now… Does that mean I like you?” He asks without looking at you for some reason. Your eyes widen, his question ten times more intense than he makes it sound. You cant even believe what you just heard.

“I.. I wouldn’t know. Only you would know that..” You force yourself to say, even though you wish you could just tell him yes. But was that a form of confession or not? Luffy’s always been unique and done things differently, you doubt he’d ever confess to you normally if that were a possibility. Or, you suppose it is a possibility now.

“Hm.. alright. Well! Cya tomorrow.” He says easily, waving his hand and walking until he’s inside and out of sight.

Both you and Nami have no words. She’s staring at you while you continue to stare at the door, but you both share the same disbelief.

“Well, I guess we owe you two hundred fifty thousand berries each now.” Zoro says, having walked up at some point, you’re not really sure when.

“Yeah I mean… I gotta admit you proved us wrong entirely..” Nami agrees slowly, clearly still dumbfounded.

“Forget it.” You tell them. “I don’t want it anymore.”

“Huh?! Seriously?!” Zoro shouts in disbelief, probably never used to being relieved of debt thanks to one of your friends.

“[Y/n], are you alright? Just what happened??” Nami asks you, not really all that concerned with the bet now, same as you.

“I’m great! I’m…” You slowly turn your head, finally looking over to your friend. Your hand comes up to rest over your mouth again, and you feel like you can still feel his lips on yours. You’re just still in total disbelief. You kissed Luffy. Not only that, but he liked kissing you, he wanted to do it.

“I just cant believe… He said he enjoyed it.. and earlier he was even trying to keep me from stopping.”

“Seriously?? Aww, [Y/N]!” Nami tells you with a smile. Despite always showing her moreso disapproval (and sometimes disgust) at your long-term crush on the captain, of course she’s still happy for you. All this time she’d given you advice and a shoulder to lean on about the whole thing, she was the only person you really told (though you’re sure maybe others have caught on). She never thought it was possible to get the captain to feel that type of thing, his aspirations too big seemingly to have any interest. This is a big surprise for both of you.

“Alright, you ladies can gossip about the details, but I don’t need to hear it so I’m out.” Zoro says, a little uncomfortable clearly. “But you’re serious about dropping the bet?”

“Yeah.. I don’t want the whole thing to be tainted by it being some bet. Let’s just pretend that never happened and… don’t tell Luffy, please.” You tell them both seriously and they nod, obviously having no objections to not having to pay you that amount anymore.

You then get bombarded by some of the others for a moment, all asking you a bunch of questions at once that you don’t really want to answer even if you could. You still need time to process this. Your best friend Nami obviously knows this, and forces them all to leave you alone so you can go to bed. You thank her and head to your room.

You realize something before you’re about to fall asleep. Just what exactly is this going to mean for the future on the ship?

#monkey d. luffy #monkey d luffy x reader #monkey d luffy x you #luffy x reader #luffy x you #luffy x y/n #one piece #one piece fanfiction #pining #fluff

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maidenvault · 11 months ago

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During my last rewatch of the prequels I was actually shocked by how much I've misremembered or decontextualized certain moments in my mind because of how they're often talked about in fandom as showing the Jedi as too arrogant, too bureaucratic, generally just burying their heads in the sand while everything goes bad etc. So I'm gonna try to address every individual scene that typically gets brought up to argue that this is an actual theme in Lucas's portrayal of the Order.

The Council doesn't take Qui-Gon's account of meeting a Sith seriously.

Mace and Ki Adi Mundi do both express doubt this guy could be a Sith. (Understandably! Historically they've never known Sith to be able to hide their existence, and for them to have survived totally in secret for a thousand years is a pretty wild thing for Qui-Gon to be so sure of.)

BUT Yoda admits that the dark side is hard to see, and Mace assures Qui-Gon they'll do everything to find out the identity of the attacker. Later he's ordered to go back to Naboo and try to draw out Maul to discover more. Qui-Gon accepts this and doesn't ask for backup. Why should he? He held his own against Maul before, and Maul's probably not gonna show himself again to face a ton of Jedi. They end up missing the chance to learn who trained Maul because of how things go down, but Qui-Gon's death isn't the result of the Council mishandling the situation.

At the funeral, Yoda says the presence of one Sith means there's another out there. They know they've got to be on guard now and will be, but they've got no more leads for now.

2. Qui-Gon's not here to free slaves.

There's this idea that slavery existing on Tatooine shows the Order is apparently too tied up doing shady things for self-interested politicians (footage not found) to help the people who really need it. But Padme's shocked to know the Skywalkers are slaves for a reason. The truth is there isn't a lot of slavery in the galaxy at this time because the Jedi have helped keep it that way for centuries only by working with the Republic. In TCW we see that Zygerrian slavers have a particular hatred of Jedi because they're literally The Anti Slavery People and did so much of the work to crack down on their trade. But Tatooine is controlled by the Hutts and they simply don't have the resources to start a war with them.

(And honestly, it's crazy how people talk like Qui-Gon's a monster for honestly and apologetically telling Anakin no, that's not why he's here. This is a child he's already indebted to and who has a hero-worshipping idea of Jedi, it would be fucked up for him not to be clear about how he can't help him and his mom.)

3. They doubt Dooku could be behind the assassination attempt.

This I understand shows the Jedi to be a little naive. But they knew Dooku as a good man, and at this point he and his followers are still putting on a show of wanting to secede for idealistic reasons (and a few of them, manipulated by Dooku, actually do have good intentions). Only later do the Jedi learn they're illegally building an army before they've even officially left the Republic and clearly have no interest in the peaceful resolution Padme's been advocating for. And they only find this out because they have Obi-Wan investigate the assassin and this very quickly leads him to Dooku.

4. "Arrogance, yes. A trait more and more common among Jedi. Even the older, more experienced ones."

In context, this line from Yoda is clearly not meant to be taken so seriously. Obi-Wan says he fears Anakin is too arrogant, and this is Yoda's light-hearted way of telling him not to be so hard on him. Part of training a Padawan is learning to trust them so they can grow, and Obi-Wan perhaps needs the reminder that he isn't done learning himself.

Of course Yoda saying this could be partly motivated by them having been caught off guard before by the existence of Darth Maul and the dark side clouding their awareness, as we're told repeatedly throughout the PT they know is a problem. But it's kind of contradictory to take this as confirmation that this is a serious fatal flaw of theirs. If someone acknowledges their own arrogance then they're aware of their ability to be wrong, which means they can't actually be that arrogant. If truly meant in a general sense and not just as a gentle reproof of Obi-Wan, it's a pretty self-deprecating comment coming from Yoda.

5. "If an item does not appear in our records, it does not exist."

Chief Librarian Jocasta Nu gives this haughty response to Obi-Wan looking for Kamino, a system that's not in the Jedi Archives. So being so overly confident in the infallible knowledge of the Jedi, he takes her word for it and totally drops this lead.

Except no, he goes to someone older and wiser to figure out what this actually means. And he and Yoda are forced to conclude that the unthinkable - a trusted person among them somehow had reason to erase information from the archive - must nonetheless be what happened. This is honestly an exception that proves the rule: Kamino, and we can assume only Kamino, is missing from the archive only because it was removed, which is so suspicious it just shows he must be on the right track to discovering something. Jocasta is kind of snooty about it but theirs obviously is supposed to be one of the most accurate and complete databases in the galaxy.

6. Obi-Wan doesn't believe what Dooku tells him about the Senate.

For one thing, in this conversation Dooku's lying about basically everything but this. And I can't ever stress enough that Palpatine is a threat unlike anything the Jedi have ever dealt with before, who's already taken control of so much before they even know they're fighting anything, so the idea that a Sith is controlling the Senate would be really hard for anyone to believe.

Still, we know Obi-Wan reports this to the Council anyway. But it's a vague statement and they still don't have any information to act on. Palpatine soon has them very busy putting out fires in the war, and naturally fighting the Separatists who are led by Sith seems the best way for them to get to the bottom of what exactly is going on with the dark side. And they do finally turn their attention to how power-hungry Palpatine is getting once the war is nearly over and they've got the bandwidth for it, and think about what they might have to do if he's the threat to their democracy they fear, but of course he's too many steps ahead of them all the time.

---

So basically, what we see the Jedi being so guilty of in these examples are thought crimes. When confronted with the crazy explanation that happens to be true, their instinctive reaction is "No, I don't think that's possible." And then they do their due diligence to uncover as much of the truth as they can anyway. And Yoda, the Grand Master of them all, is often the first to admit that their first assumptions could be wrong. But Palpatine wouldn't be a good villain if his moves were predictable and he couldn't get an advantage over the good guys - that's just how storytelling works sometimes and it's not that deep.

It honestly felt stupid typing so much of this out because it's 90% just describing what actually happens in these scenes. But I guess it's a lot to ask that people actually carefully watch the films they discuss. 😒

#jedi order #yoda #obi wan kenobi #darth maul #qui gon jinn #meta #star wars #my meta #my sw meta

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vamptarot · 10 months ago

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What Will They Like About Your Body | PAC 18+

pile one pile two pile three

how to choose a pile . . . choose whichever you feel drawn to or ask your guides to guide your eyes to the one that is meant for you! ᡣ𐭩

— ⭑.ᐟ this is for diversity reasons, if you don’t want to, don’t read it, if you want to, go for it. this will be covering what they like about your body and what they fantasise of it. ‘they’ meaning your special person. not proof read.

𝝑𝝔 If you are under 18 years old don’t read this. This is made for consenting adults. If you think you are grown enough, no you are not.

pile one : - high heels !

𐙚 : five of cups, page of pentacles, five of swords, three of swords, two of cups reversed

bottom of the deck: six of swords

♡ ⢷what will they like about your body

Every single little thing, there is nothing that they don’t like about you. Which can, yes, be annoying to hear, because this isn’t what you were curious of, but these feelings are sincere. They come from the bottom of the heart.

Your special person looks at you as the star, as this very perfect person, the most beautiful of all. They find your looks dreamy and even the tiniest of folds and details are beautiful about them. The beauty of ancient statues, if you struggle understanding the concept of it.

It’s the feeling of “this is actually a real body with a lot of things to tell, not just one that was worked for years to hide things about it.”

Some of you might take an offence to that, thinking “but that means my body is just ugly!”.. I am here to say that’s not true, you are just delusional. Real bodies don’t look like the ones on the internet that are photoshopped to the max - yes, even in videos -, they just look real. With spots, blemishes, veins, details, stretch marks, beauty spots and a thousand other things. Your body is very much real, which makes you soooo sexy in your person’s eyes. All the little things about it.

Matter of fact, your special person LOOOOVES your stomach so much, like omg. They might like to hold it, or just rest their body on it while cuddling you or literally sleeping with you while spooning. You might think to yourself, ‘oh, but my stomach isn’t flat’, duh, that’s the sexy bit about it. - Even if your stomach is flat that is okay bby, that bit was meant for somebody else. -

Think about it, no statue of Aphrodite has a flat stomach.

Aside from that, your chest is so loved. Idgaf if you are a woman, man, flat chested or not this mf - whoever they might be - wants to suck on it, and if they are given the chance they will show that too! 🫵🏻 Seriously, if you are asking about a guy, - or a masculine girl -, they wanna just put their face right to your chest and get to work. If you have a bigger chest, just rub their face their, and if it’s flat then tease you so you make noises for them. - Whines, to be specific. - If you have birth mark or any sort of mark on your chest, they also want to kiss it there, they love it.

It’s not that their energy is objectifying, they are just crazy about you. Like your body gets them all to be like those old cartoons where the guy gets heart eyes and they almost fall out as they stare at the pretty lady that just walked by.. tongue out and all. - Think of Bugs Bunny from Looney Tunes or Tom from Tom & Jerry when they meet a pretty girl and you might understand better like that. -

Now, speaking about tongues. They think that your private part has such a pretty shade to it. - Or like.. would, if they saw it. - This obviously varies person to person but the main things that are coming through are pinkish & light brown? Like it’s just a nice shade of brown. - yes, even if you are a person of colour.. this will be unique to everybody, but the point is the same. - Also the texture if your skin could also be something they like? Because that’s unique from person to person as well! So they will definitely love what they will be able to feel, you know. Tongues come here because as soon as they saw you wet/hard combined with those factors they just wanna give you head. Like they are needy for you!

They also, really, really like your ass a lot. Slapping it, grabbing it during the act itself.. whatever you let them do, they will do it. You might as well catch them staring from time to time too. - This is regardless of gender, if you are a guy asking about a girl this still applies… or a girl asking about a girl.. whatever you are into guys. Your ass is just a 10/10 for them. -

♡ ⢷their fantasies about your body

You might have had some experiences in the past that made you very insecure. In your body, and how people perceive you. I will not be going too much into it because the severity of this depends from reader to reader. It rages from comments - irl & online -, to bullying, all the way down to abuse. That is your business and I am not going to dive into it.

However, their fantasies revolve around helping you escape feeling stuck from these feelings and emotions that are awakened in you when it comes to sexuality. They understand that it’s from things that you have went through in life but they still wish to help you overcome these negative emotions by loving you right, treating you right and giving you the whole world, their all.

Even then, you might be the sort of person who wants to do it with the lights off or distracted your partner before things get too far because you are genuinely scared of intimacy and the level of tension such a deep bond comes with. In your head it could be nothing but all sort of negative things, barely anything good coming out of it. At times, you might even feel ashamed. It doesn’t have to be this way. This is what they want to show you by treating you correctly.

You escaping this turmoil of ‘it’s wrong, but I want to like it’s and the pain that comes along with it is what their biggest fantasy is. They hate to see you suffer through things even if you hate that they care at times. Nothing in this world will make them stop caring about you, at all, even if you believe otherwise. Their love isn’t fragile, rather opposite, it’s quite strong.

They dream of loving you tenderly, holding you, going slow and kissing your tears away as they hold your hand.

They dream of taking care of you, treating you with the utmost respect. Never ever would they do anything to purposefully scare you or make you uncomfortable.

♡ ⢷moodboard

— ✮⋆˙ ‘my type’ , billie eilish , ‘and i see her, at the back of my mind’ , pink & flowers ? , demisexual , waiting til marriage , not a huge fan of kinky stuff but rather just wanna make love , (door) bells , bookshop , sage green , piercings , something for beauty being done to the eyes - contacts, lashes, eyeshadow ect - , stiletto nails , shibuya

My pile one do not forget that you are beautiful and nothing in this world will change this fact! your person is so sweet, their energy is very gently even though you might not think so. they would neverrr do anything without your permission. thank you for reading.

if you liked my reading please consider checking out my paid readings! there is barely any topic I will say no to and with every penny you are helping me!

pile two : - font !

𐙚 : six of swords, queen of pentacles reversed, seven of pentacles reversed, nine of cups, wheel of fortune reversed, the devil reversed, the lovers reversed

bottom of the deck: the emperor

♡ ⢷what will they like about your body

I would like to start out with saying that this is a toxic pile, at the very least sexually mean. There is no feeling of being in love or having strong emotional connection/needs here, so even if you have a crush they might feel a sexual attraction towards you but not romantic one.. or they possibly view sexual attraction and romance as two different things and don’t think of the other while doing one of them. - meaning even if they have a crush, they won’t be romantic during sex. - I will still channel for this pile but this has been your warning and disclaimer. If you are not comfortable reading about something like that, do not. It’s alright to not read this.

Now, if you decided to continue reading I will need you to stay with me on this one, this person is a whole mess.

I also want to say that if you have a bdsm kink this person does too, and if you don’t they do not either but are simply sadistic/masochistic or just had heavy uncomfortable experiences in the past that altered their preferences, fantasies and such. Such a rare but specific distinction but everybody’s guides urged me to say this.

To actually get into it, they like your chest, the shape of your body and your private eras. The shape of it, the size of it and everything that is unique about it. Not even a little bit, but a lot. They want to tie you up, not necessarily do anything but stare at you while admiring you. They want to tie you up in such a specific way too, in a way your legs and arms are spread out so they can see everything.

This inactivity is on purpose, either to piss you off or make you scared. Your face is so hot to them. Like your expressions for sure get them hard/wet, but like.. your face in general, they love it.

I will list what they like about it as well. Let’s start with your eyes.. pretty eyelashes, colours, gaze and so on.. but that’s absolutely not what turns them on at all. It’s the fact that they are a little bit messed up. There is so many eye conditions in this world, but this is specific for those people who have a bit harder time seeing. If you squint your eyes while trying to read something? Sexy as fact. You walk into something by accident? Sexy as fuck. I am sure the Lord does, but I don’t understand why they feel this way. There is a reason, they are just not sharing it with me. Also, even if that’s not your eye condition.. don’t think you are an exception, that ‘it might not be for you’. It does, you are so cute it turns them on. Especially when you look up at them. They are horny for you. If you have eyebags that just adds to it even more. - I also don’t mean to be belittling, I, myself, wear glasses. Your person is just a little crazy, I am so sorry I don’t know how to say that in a more kind manner. -

Moving on, your nose. There is something unique about it. A beauty spot, a birth mark, the shape of it.. you know your face better than I do, whatever you know is unique is about it they love it. Even if you think they don’t. - that’s especially for the bigger nose ppl! don’t belittle your beauty. -

Your lip shape, they think it’s so kissable. I am so serious, they look at it as ‘so plump’ and they ‘want to devour it’. - don’t clock it, these aren’t my words. - Now, if you are a girl you decide if this means your face or other lips. 🩷 It’s both.

And we are not done yet, nu uh. 🙂‍↕️☝🏻 Your teeth, your beauty spots, your eye colour in the sun, your resting face, your expression when you are annoyed, your red eyes ‘n nose ‘n cheeks after you cried.. is there anything they don’t like about your face? No. If you let them they will cum on it too.

Your thighs are something they loveeeee too. I for real hope that you are into bites and hickeys because this person wants to leave their mark on you. Whether or not this is only for them to see or if it’s visible to anyone… they don’t gaf, they just want to know that their mark is there, on you. No one else’s, just theirs. Jealous, jealous person. Hella possessive too. ‘Only mine’ sort of thing.

They also like your stomach, especially if it’s more toned. Like don’t get them wrong, they don’t care if your stomach changes. Matter of fact they want to impregnate you. - Not that they are ready for a baby, they are just kinky as hell. -

♡ ⢷their fantasies about your body

This is another warning and disclaimer. If you find heavier, darker fantasies and topics uncomfortable don’t read this. This is especially true if you have had negative sexual experiences or if you have traumas that are easily triggered. I am not playing with you. You might hate this.

Menace to society. Like these are only fantasies, and they won’t really act out on each and every single one but when channeling the energy I got a bit perplexed.

First and foremost, they want you to submit to them, completely. No ifs, no buts, no nothing. Just submitting to them. Let’s go through their fantasies one by one..

I believe this is the most simple and common one. This isn’t necessarily something harmful but it does depend on your view of life and the value you put into such things. It’s completely ok to disagree with me on this one. - Notice how I am saying ‘least harmful’ and not ‘not harmful at all’. -

Their most harmless fantasy is you getting over someone, possibly out of a relationship, moving on and still sad with the what happened as you were mistreated. They want to ‘heal’ you with sexual connections. Now, what exactly this is varies person to person. For some of you this is making love, for others it’s having sex and for other people it’s straight up f#cking and messing around. - Crazy to write it out like that, but these are all different things. - They just wanna be ‘the one to heal you.’ Whatever that may mean to them.

For this next one, some of you reading this might like the idea of this fantasy because you won’t fully grasp the idea of it due to being inexperienced but that’s alright, I will do my best to explain to you.

This fantasy revolves around spoiling you, giving you everything you want and pampering you any chance he gets. With attention, words, gifts, necessities, physical touch and in sexual needs. Anything you can think of. The twist in this fantasy is you not being able to do any of this by yourself because no matter how hard you would try you would simply just fail. I am not saying that’s the truth, I am saying that’s their fantasy. Pampering you because you need to completely rely on them, having no other choice. Being obsessed even though you are in an unfortunate situation or might even desire freedom sometimes. It’s like this hopelessness that you have alone, almost as if you need them to be fulfilled in life. That no one else can give this to you, not even yourself.

I don’t think they have a slave kink, but it borders it. This is because they sometimes fantasies about you doing xyz in exchange for these things, like housework and so on.. but in a sinister way, not in a ‘my lovely stay at home wife/husband/partner’ kinda way. Not a ‘sugar daddy/mommy’ kind of way either. Imma be honest and just say I did not see enough things in my life to understand what exactly is going on, but I know for sure that they love power dynamics and want to be the one that’s on top. Figuratively and literally too.

For this one, if you ignored my first warning but you still read and happen to have trauma about physical abuse or domestic violence don’t read what I am about to channel next. Literally don’t. Ignorance is bliss.

We have entered level 10000000x of f*cked up. Their most messed up fantasy is them abusing you, to the point of you having bruises and feeling emotionally defeated. That’s not what turns them on. It’s the fantasy of regardless of this you keep on loving them. Going back for more and unable to leave them, and even letting them do whatever they want to your body. Though, in all these fantasies they do fantasies about having to chase you a little bit. So you not giving yourself easy and valuing yourself but still ending up under them is the main drive they have for this fantasy.

The craziest thing though, this mf seems pure, kind and very respectful. The perfect person to bring home. Well put together, clean, has a lot to offer and treats your family well. You would never think that these sort of things cross their mind. Yet they do.

I am willing to bet a whole tarot deck that many people reading this pile until here didn’t believe a single word of what I wrote down exactly because they appear so perfect and kind.

♡ ⢷ moodboard

— ✮⋆˙ wild thoughts - rihanna , red ropes & red string of fate (symbolism of differences) , virgo , someone is hungry rn , anger issues , ‘breaking dishes all night’ , tiktok edits , hallway crush , tiger/tigress , ‘Tom’ , tom foolery - lmao - , grey , silver jewellry , dreads , nonchalant but very kind , red fruits ? strawberries, watermelon, raspberries, passion fruit and aso on , cracking backs , spa asmr

Idk y’all this man/person is the devil. 😞 you are into what you are into, but do not stay near people who make you feel unsafe. thank you for reading

if you liked my reading please consider checking out my paid readings! there is barely any topic I will say no to and with every penny you are helping me!

pile three : - ballet shoes !

𐙚 : the chariot reversed, queen of swords reversed, the star, eight of cups reversed, four of wands, page of swords

bottom of the deck: knight of swords

♡ ⢷what will they like about your body

Let’s start with saying that you might think this person is cold or not interested in you but it’s the total opposite.

They want you so bad, and they try to not show it because they are ashamed of how bad they want you. Not because there is anything wrong with you but because they are so good at self discipline, not being influenced by anything too easily and just being a honest and just person. Yet, when it comes to you they cannot help but have these animalistic tendencies, they want to go nuts and have such rough sexual relations with you all while treating you like their Queen/King, pampering you with love and affection.

They don’t want to only make love to you, they want to worship you with every single second that passes. You have a hold on them that no body else have had before and they try to not make themselves look crazy in your eyes but they just want to kiss every inch and corner of your body. Even the ground you walk on. You are so perfect to them and they feel like they need to hide so that you don’t push them away. So you won’t think of them as a creep.

They love you as a whole, if you were to ask them what they find unattractive about you they would not have an answer. There is not a single thing that they deem as a flaw about you at all. They would be offended if you even dared to think that there is. In a sincere way too.

Like you could even believe, even for a slight second that there is anything that they don’t like about you? They would never deem anything about your appearance as a flaw.

And that is true! But they still have subconscious favourites I picked up on lmao,, Which is completely normal!

It’s your feet, your tummy, your fingers - might wanna suck on it idkkkk -, your overall figure, your veins, your waist, the outline of your private parts through clothes, the way that you carry yourself and if you have blue eyes then that.

Though, their favourite thing is none of those. It’s the tension in your body when you are turned on and you think you can hide it well but it still shows through your actions. How you move your legs and the way you rub your legs together, the shy look on your eyes all while you are nervous about people being able to tell how needy you are. It turns them on so bad they could single handedly recreate the Niagara fallls all by themselves, if you get what I mean.

Perhaps they would also enjoy how your own cum looks on your thighs after sex, after coming so much and not being able to control yourself. - I am sorry for the lack of better words. -

♡ ⢷their fantasies about your body

Honestly, they just have a worshipping kink when it comes to you.

They want to suck on your body. Your toes, your private parts - on your clit if you are a woman -, your thighs, your stomach - they wanna leave hickeys -, your hips, your waist, your chest, your collarbones, your arms, your shoulders, your lips.. they want it all.

Even if they aren’t into it, they want to do it just to please you. It turns them on because it’s you. They find you crazy hot, like they would go to the ends of the world and back for you.

Not a sub for sure, they rather read like a soft dom that’s very passionate, obsessed and in love with you. They can be a sub for the night if you want them to be though. Put a leash on them and they will go on all fours for you.

And if you don’t like that, that’s cool. They can slap you, pull your hair and go hard if that’s what you need them to do.

If you like regular sex only, that’s chill with them too.

For you, they are both a prince charming and a freak, just depends on what you need of them. They want to cater to your needs all while dominating you. Adoring everything about you.

The only thing they ask for in exchange is for you to be loyal and committed to them, because they sure are to you. Not a single other person on their mind at all. Fuck threesomes and anything else that involves bringing someone else other than the two of you in the bedroom, they only want you.

They could go crazy if you give attention to any other person too. Jealous person, adores devotion above anything else for sure. They are not afraid to leave you if you play games with them. Doesn’t even have to be cheating, but teasing. They love you but they don’t like things like that. They are grown. - Not my words bby, their higher self’s. -

Regardless, they don’t fantasise about you leaving them but rather overthink and worry they you might do so if you find someone else that better fits you. Someone you look at as beautiful, good and all the more compatible with you. This is their worry. - Probably bc of their past but most of you it’s just because they love you so much you are their weakness. -

Their fantasies revolve around pleasing you. Giving you their all. Trying out thousands upon thousands of things with only one another, just the two of you.

♡ ⢷ moodboard

— ✮⋆˙ ‘just the two of us, we can make if if we try’ , ‘i am vanilla baby, I will choke you but I am no killer baby’ , whipped cream , someone here has a mommy kink , curved eyelashes , clown masks , cherry red lipstick , tooth gems , blue whips , shy virgin who didn’t resonate with the kinky bits 🫵🏻 , painted toes! , coffin nails , 18

believe that you deserve good things instead of trying to convince yourself that I am lying to you. that one is very specific for one person not everyone <3<3 mwah my beautiful pile 3 you are so loved by this person I wish nothing but happiness for y’all! thank you for reading

if you liked my reading please consider checking out my paid readings! there is barely any topic I will say no to and with every penny you are helping me!

#tarot #tarotblr #tarot community #pick a picture #pick a pile #pick a photo #free tarot #astroblr #spirituality #tarot reading #free tarot reading #paid readings #pick a card #tarot cards #paid tarot #astro community #astrology

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anakinstwinklebunny · 2 months ago

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PAIRING: hockey player!popular!anakin x f!reader

ANGSTY-FLUFF ❦ (tbh dont know how to name it even 🧍‍♀️)

IT WAS REQUESTED!! But mostly just more hockey ani so i brought smth more 😏😏

At the same too loud, too lame party where people made out against every wall, puked in every bathroom, Padmé freaking Amidala watched with a little smirk to crossing her lips, how you left ANAKIN SKYWALKER's side for whatever reason. Maybe to get a drink, maybe to use the already disgustingly smelling bathroom; it didn't matter. As soon as she saw an opportunity, she used it. She cornered him by the kitchen. Lip gloss shining in its glittery pigment, matching to her clothes nails sharper than her own glare. Her arms were crossed like she was some tragic Greek goddess dumped by her mortal lover. Well, in her eyes, she indeed was.

"Hey, Ani."

He didn’t look up from his phone. "It's Anakin."

Her mouth twitched just for a second, before she reseted that honey-sweet voice. If he was going to play this game, she will too. Using all her dirty moves if she has to “You really think dating her is cute?”

Now he did look up. But his expression was flat, nothing soft or smug she was used to during her relationship. His eyebrow barely raised themselves from their usual spot.

“She’s not even clean, Anakin,” Padmé pressed, fake sympathy dripping from every syllable. “I heard from Molly—who sits behind her in math—that her hair literally smells like old books and, like, dog shampoo or something.”

A brief pause. He blinked. She pushed harder, lips curling in a fake sweet, so deeply concerned little smile. “I mean, I’m just worried about you.." her hand shot up, lightly touching his arm "You deserve someone... clean. Someone who doesn’t wear the same hoodie three times a week.”

Anakin slowly put his phone away into his pocket to grab Padmé's venomous touch away from him. After that, not even a word left his mouth as he simply as that left her side. Just walked off. Like she was nothing, like she couldn't just ruin anyone's life in school, like she wasn't one of the brightest student who achieved more than anyone.

she quickly run up to him, pushing past people “She has lice, Ani. Like, actual bugs. I swear I saw her scratching behind her ear—”

"You're reaching, Padmé."

She stopped. “What?”

Anakin leaned against the random doorframe with his arms crossed now, just as unimpressed as he sounded from the beginning. “I’ve had my hands in her hair every day this week. If she had lice, I’d have lice. And last I checked?” He tilted his head with a grin. Ugh, talking about such stuff was as embarrassing as watching his friend try to win a girl over “Still clean.”

Padmé recoils a bit, jaw tightening. But she's far from done. If anyone has enough of seeing the anakin skywalker touching, kissing, walking near his new girlfriend, it's Padmé. Sure, she was the one to break up with him for a quick little fling with another hot, a little less popular, boy but that was not the main problem here. Anakin Skywalker was. Or rather, his ability to move on too quickly for her liking. He was supposed to beg, to fall to his knees and ask for another chance. But he did the opposite. And that is what Padmé will not stand for.

You should’ve stayed in the kitchen.

You told yourself that three minutes ago when you lost sight of Anakin. The music was too loud, the house too packed, and your cup of whatever soda-and-vodka mess Anakin wanted was already warm in your hand. So when you turned the corner to the living room, weaving through half-drunk students and stumbling couples, you didn’t expect your heart to sink.

There he was. By the drinks table. With her. Her fake laugh. Her lip gloss reapplied for the thousands time as if she was ready to make out with another boy. Her hand brushed Anakin’s arm like she still owned it. Like you were the guest in his life—not her.

You slowed your pace. The music drowned out their words, but you saw her lean in. Her eyes sparkled, lips curved into something wicked as soon as her eyes caught yours. You could tell by her body language—she was planting venom. Seeds of doubt. The kind that crawled into your brain and whispered you don’t deserve him. you’re not enough, that at the end of the day, its all fake; and that he is pretending to win her heart again.

And before you could even blink further, maybe walk up to them, smoothly brush it off - she kissed him. Right there. Full mouth with her fingers curling into his collar like she was still allowed to.

Your expression fell to the floor, a sudden freezing coming down on you. But it seemed not only on you. Anakin froze too. All wide-eyed. Stunned. But at the same time not moving. He didn’t push her off. And it was too late. It didn’t matter if he kissed her back or not. It was already too late.

You turned on your heel, throat closing up. Cup shaking in your hand until it hit the floor with a dull clink. Shoved through the crowd, trying to keep the burn in your chest from leaking out of your eyes. You barely made it to the porch before the tears threatened to fall.

You told yourself this was fake.

Because this was fake. So why did it feel like someone had stabbed your lungs? And why did you want to scream his name like it meant something?

“Wait.”

You didn’t. Well, at least not at first. Definitely not when the screen door slammed behind you. Not when you heard his shoes hit the pavement.

“Hey— stop, stop, just—wait.” His fingers finally wrapped around your wrist, halting you halfway down the sidewalk. You yanked your arm back instantly, the burn of betrayal crawling up your spine.

“Don’t touch me.” you snarled

Anakin froze. Breathless. His cheeks were flushed, pupils blown wide from alcohol and adrenaline—but none of it dulled the panic in his eyes. “It wasn’t—She kissed me. I didn’t—”

“Save it.” Your voice cracked and you hated that. You hated how weak you sounded, how your chest trembled like he hadn’t just broken every fake little rule you’d set together. Or maybe it wasnt so fake after all..

“It didn’t mean anything.”

You laughed; bitter, low. The kind that made his face fall completely when you turned around to face him. “Of course it didn’t. You’re not dating me, remember? This is fake. Everything’s fake. So of course it didn’t mean anything.”

“That’s not what I—”

“No, really,” you bit, backing away from him, “because you stood there and let her. You didn’t even flinch.”

“I didn’t kiss her back!” he barked, frustration bleeding through now. “I was frozen—what was I supposed to do? Shove her to the floor? Start a scene?”

You stepped closer, jaw clenched. “You were supposed to choose me, Anakin. Even if it’s fake, you were supposed to look like you gave a damn.”

Silence. He stared at you. The boy everyone wanted. The so called hockey team god. The smug smirk gone, cocky confidence replaced by something terrifying: guilt. Real, devastating guilt.

“I didn’t ask for this,” you whispered. “You dragged me into your mess, okay?. Your ex, your games, your shitty reputation. And for what? So you could stand there and let her humiliate me in front of half the damn school? Thats why you brought me here? Am i not enough of embarrassment for you, Mr. Perfect?”

He opened his mouth—but there was nothing to say. Yet the silence he gave you, was enough of an answer for you. It made you realize things that clouded your mind for past few weeks. It cleared everything out. As much as you enjoyed being Anakin’s (fake) girlfriend, the message was clear - you'd never outshine Padmé Amidala. Not when Anakin saw her as his sun.

“I’m done, Skywalker. Game over.”

Days had passed since that awful day. In school, you were a punching bag once more; a reason to be laughed at. You got used to it; after all, it wasn't the first time in your life people treated you such way.

Were you mad at Anakin? You preferred a word disappointed, broken, betrayed. You gazed blankly at the paper pinned to your wall; no attachments, no feelings - it said. Underneath, at the end of it all, yours and anakin's signature. How pity - you thought. Who would have known that romantic comedies are right? That even if you're pretending, you still catch feelings?

It was already raining when the knock knocked the thoughts out of you. At first you didn’t even move. Just stared at your desk, the biology book still wide open—pointless now, because there’s no way you could focus with everything spiraling like it was.

Another knock. Harder.

You sighed, dragging yourself toward the door, expecting maybe your neighbor or one of your parents coming back from their anniversary trip -

But your breath stalled. He was standing there. Soaked to the bone. Hoodie clinging to his frame, rain dripping from the ends of his messy, dark-blond curls. His eyes were wild, unblinking.

Anakin Skywalker looked like he’d been through hell.

“Open the door,” he said, voice rough. Strained.

You didn’t. You stepped out and slammed it behind you instead, tugging your cardigan tighter around your body. “What do you want?”

His eyes softened as soon as he saw you; they scanned your face, going down to your body, then up to meet your eyes. “You left.” His voice cracked. “You didn’t even let me explain.”

“I didn’t need an explanation, Anakin! I saw it. With my own eyes!”

“She kissed me!” he shouted, stepping toward you as his emotions took over. “I didn’t want it— I didn’t even fucking see it coming!”

“And yet,” you laughed bitterly, “you didn’t stop her. And then you stood there, like a goddamn statue, while I watched it happen!”

He ran a hand through his drenched hair, pacing like a caged animal. “You think I didn’t want to rip her off me?! You think I didn’t feel like shit the second I saw your face?!”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because I was scared!” he yelled.

The rain poured harder. Thunder cracked somewhere distant. You blinked, confused. “Scared of what?”

He looked at you like he was unraveling. Like this was the last thing he ever thought he’d admit. His voice dropped, raw and real. “Scared of losing you.”

That shut you up. Anakin took a breath in. “It started fake. Yeah. But it’s not fake anymore. Not for me. Not when you walk into a room and my chest hurts. Not when someone else talks to you and I want to rearrange their face. Not when you touch me and I forget my own goddamn name.”

Your lips parted, heart hammering in your chest, milion butterflies ready to erupt.

“I didn’t know how to say it before,” he went on, voice trembling, begging, “but I—fuck, I need you, okay?. I need you like oxygen, like my heart won’t fucking beat if I don’t hear your voice. And I’m not gonna pretend I can just—go back to the way things were before you.”

Silence; just the rain, falling between you. You stared at him. At the boy who once teased you for being a bookworm, who now stood drenched and desperate on your front porch, ruined by his own feelings.

“Say it again,” you said.

He blinked, now being confused. “What?”

“Say it again,” you breathed, voice almost lost in the storm, in the scene of it all. “But say it like you mean it.”

His jaw clenched. His chest rose. And then he surged forward, grabbed your face, and kissed you like the world was ending. When he pulled back, he whispered against your lips, “I love you, y/n..and im sorry i fucked up, and im sorry it went that way but fuck - i truly love you, alright? I dont want Padmé. I dont want anyone. Yes, at first it was about her but you turned my world upside down and i just--i just love you. I want you. All of you."

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oceantornadoo · 3 months ago

Text

rose scented scrubs

ex-husband Michael ‘Robby’ Robinavitch x f!reader

the post-divorce love confession fic of my dreams, word count 5.5k

ps I know Dana said it was her last shift in one of the episodes but idc deal with it I had to write her.

It was a few hours into your book when you realized you’d made a terrible, terrible mistake.

It had been the first cafe to catch your eye, advertising a yummy pastry you’d been aching to try on a beautiful late Saturday morning. Only after you’d noticed the fourth person in scrubs at the counter did you realize your mistake. The cafe had two entrances - one on the busy street you came in on, the other right outside of Pittsburg Medical Center.

Current workplace of your ex-husband.

You hadn't been near the hospital in months. When you'd been married (the past tense of it a hard pill to swallow, let alone think), you would drive by the hospital on your way to work, leaving early so you could stop by and get a kiss from the man who'd already been up since 5am. After the papers were signed, ink dried and heart broken, you told yourself to revel in those extra twenty minutes of sleep. Now you could drive straight to work, no pit stop needed, and all you had to give up was your marriage.

An almost-kid in black scrubs burst through the door, scanning his phone like his life depended on it. With his flustered expression, he looked like the stereotype of a country boy losing his way in the big city. You checked the clock - 3pm. A little over halfway into the usual twelve-hour shift from 7 to 7. The knowledge sprang up unbidden, carved into your brain by how long you’d lived and breathed it. “Hello! Can I get one black coffee, no cream or sugar, two lattes, regular milk…” he ended with a total of ten drinks, an amount the barista behind the counter barely seemed flustered by. At least for one of them, it wasn’t their first day on the job. He ended up near your chair and the urge to ask was too great, desperation clawing its way out of your throat.

“Are they making the interns get drinks now?” You quip, immediately cursing yourself. There was absolutely no reason to interact, who knows if he’s even in Robby’s department, why- “Yeah, actually. We had a pretty rough time last month, so the admin staff is giving us a new food and drink stipend instead of more staff.” He laughs to himself before remembering that you're a stranger, his cheeks apple red. “Are you a doctor?” He asks. Now it just sounded creepy if you said no, but there was absolutely no chance you could say yes. “No, but I’ve got friends at the hospital.” Friends being Dana, who forces you into monthly mental health check ins where she stares at you until you cry.

“Who’s your friend? If you want, you could stop by with me. I haven’t memorized her name yet, well it’s only my first month, but the front desk worker is super nice, especially since the ER is slow right now.” You gulp at the pit (figurative, not literal) that you’ve dug yourself into. Of course you had to talk to the ER intern. It couldn’t have been Peds, where they’d invite you to say hi to cute babies from the NICU glass? You’ve done it once or twice, bored of waiting on Robby and making friends with all the nurses.

You open to give your refusal and apologies but get interrupted by the barista shouting “Dennis!” Three containers of drinks appear out of nowhere, and you can’t help but cringe at how Dennis has no way to carry them all. He’s currently attempting to balance one on top of the other, and your duty as a Good Samaritan suddenly becomes clear. The thought of seeing Dana, and perhaps Collins or McKay if you’re lucky, makes your heart swell. Robby will be easy to avoid if you stay vigilant. Tucking your book into your tote, you stand and prepare yourself for battle. It’s easy to make your way to Dennis, who looks like a circus performer, and grab two of the drink trays. “C’mon, kid. Let’s caffeinate these people.”

It feels like a dream you’ve dreamt a thousand times. Walking into the ER, looking fabulous with your makeup just right and your best perfume on. Dropping off a sick friend and running into Robby, stunning him with your six-month post-divorce glow up. Or maybe it’s a year later and you bring in an injured and scandalously younger boyfriend to show him what he’s missing. After those dreams, you always wake up empty, soul heavy. In other ones, it’s you on the gurney, letting him prove to himself he can save the people he loves, that you’re not just another Adamson. A romantic revelation that would fix those last hollow months of your marriage, grief and regret heavy on his tongue but never making its way out. Those end in tears, your face wet when you wake.

You’d never imagined this - your best weekend leggings and your favorite tote swinging from your shoulder as you follow in what has to be Robby's baby intern. You nod at the woman behind the counter, a new person you don’t know. She seems about to stop you from going in but then you hear a clear voice yell your name. So much for an in and out mission.

McKay greeted you with a warm smile, taking one of the drink trays from you as she nudges your shoulder. “Long time no see!” Her friendly tone makes you ache with regret. You’ve kept up with Dana only because she forced her way into your new, solitary life. It felt uncouth to reach out to McKay or Collins, like it would seem a ploy to get back to Robby. Shame ruins through your veins at your actions, or lack thereof. “Hey, I’m sorry for the ghosting. Been going through some stuff. I like your new bangs!” She doesn’t let you distract her, brows staying knitted at your second sentence. For once, you hate how determined she can be, her maternal instincts knowing no bounds. “What stuff?” McKay pulls you off the side, ignoring the drinks in both of your hands that are definitely in demand.

“Well, I’m sure you already know.” You roll your shoulder forward to emphasize your point. It’s pretty clear what you’re talking about, but the word ‘divorce’ feels too ugly to mention between you two. She doesn’t seem to get the memo, looking you up and down like she’s expecting the answer to pop out of the sweater you’re wearing. “I don’t get paid enough for you to waste my time being all facetious.” You snort, but the anticipation of your next words sobers you quickly. “Moving out, finding a new place, all the paperwork. It’s been a lot, but I should’ve kept up and I’m sorry.” Her lips purse in confusion. There’s a strain around her shoulders and you hate that this talk might be causing it, probably reminding her of her own divorce. “Did something happen at your old apartment? We don’t talk personal lives too much, but Robby would’ve mentioned a flood or something. Or did you guys finally get a bigger place?” The thought of that lightens her eyes, a rare smile you don’t see too much in the ER. Your heart sinks.

Robby didn’t tell her.

Of course, he left the hard stuff to you, once again. “Cass…” you trail off, unsure how to continue. Once again, you’re saved by an interruption. “What are you doing, robbing my best staff and not saying hi?” Dana appears, her short white-blond hair framing her face like a stern angel. You’ve haven’t seen her in a month and a half since she took some time off to deal with personal stuff after a particularly rough shift. She’s never been a big texter, so you anticipated more information at your future catch up, planned for next week. “I ran into one of the interns looking lost in the cafe over and simply had to help.” You tease. Your eyes meet hers but immediately look over her head, searching for him. Wherever she goes, he’s not far behind, always paying his dues in following her wisdom.

“He’s in Trauma 1, helping a drowning victim.” Fuck, you’re caught. Dana smirks at you like she’s inside your head. McKay’s eyes twinkle like there’s something romantic about to happen and you mourn the fact you’re about to give her yet another reason to not believe in a man, again. “I wasn’t looking for him, I was looking for Collins.” You bite, ignoring how McKay’s confusion has reached an all time high to your right. To distract them both, you push the drink tray forward. “I think there’s a hazelnut latte somewhere in here for you, Ms. Busybody.” Dana narrows her eyes as she finds the drink you’re talking about, plucking it out with precision. One drink down, three to go and then you can leave. That intern, Dennis, is nowhere to be found. You’d leave the drinks on the desk, but you know that would be a hazard in so many ways. Plus, some person would probably grab a drink that’s not theirs and you can’t be responsible for pandemonium - you know what lack of caffeine can do to a healthcare worker. Thankfully, the white lids read their contents: black coffee, hot tea, and…hot chocolate? Maybe there’s a kid who needed some comfort.

“Do you know who the rest are for?” You question. Dana shrugs and you can sense some ulterior motive behind her eyes. “Sounds like a question for Whittaker.” That must be Dennis. In the crowd of gurneys and scrubs, you can’t seem to find him. “The hot tea is for Collins and the hot chocolate is for Javadi, one of the interns. Of course, you know who the black coffee is for.” Double fuck.

You had hoped it was someone else who had a taste for black sludge, but unfortunately only one doctor does. Cowardly, you turn to McKay and give her your best try of puppy dog eyes. “Do you mind passing these out?” She snorts, clearly amused. “As if I’m getting between you and Robby mid shift. I remember last October all too well.” You stiffen at the memory. Surprising the staff with pumpkin cookies you’d baked, shrieking when Robby had grabbed you by the hips and ordered you into an unused storage room. How McKay had opened the door (“looking for supplies, I swear I did not want to see any of that”) with your hand in your husband’s scrubs and your leg, chilly in a skirt for easy access, wrapped around his waist.

“I see Collins. It was nice seeing you, McKay.” It’s a rude goodbye, but you can’t stomach anything more. Collins’ signature red jacket is easy to spot as she comes out of one of the nearby rooms, conferring sternly with what seems to be another intern. They just keep multiplying.

“Like I told you, you wait for my instructions, you don’t just intubate because-“ Your eyes catch and the emotional weight around your shoulders sags a bit more. She sends the intern off with one more warning before greeting you with a slight smile. “I heard you needed a hot tea.” You brandish the drink tray like a shield. She takes the cup delicately, taking a small sip and sighing in delight. “I haven’t seen you in six months. Work trip or something? Robby’s been worse than usual.” He didn’t tell her either. It’s starting to look like the only people who know about your divorce are you, Robby, and Dana. It begs the question why, but you’re not strong enough to answer. You know Collins would be a good person to confide in, but you don’t want to drop a bomb on what looks like an exhausting day. Her outward mask might be tough, but once you got over the awkwardness of her being Robby’s long-ago fling, you’ve always been able to see right through it.

“Something like that. You okay?” You move her off to the side before she can get swept into another case. She gives you another one of those barely-there smiles, and you ache to think that she’s been struggling with something, maybe worse than you. Maybe she sees something reflected back, because in a rare move, she opens up. “I had a miscarriage a month ago.” On instinct, you find an empty chair to set the drink tray on before sweeping her in your arms. She doesn’t like to be touched by many, especially at work, but she makes an exception for you.

“Oh, Heather.” It’s all you can say. She doesn’t cry, too battle worn and aware of the eyes on her, but the breath she takes is a near thing. After a few seconds, she pulls back, tight lipped and eyes shining. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve been there, but this isn’t about me. Oh, honey.” You murmur. You squeeze her hand, trying to impress on her all the things you cannot say. Heather Collins doesn’t like empty platitudes, so you don’t try to give her any. For a second, she squeezes your hand back before her mask slides back into place. “Thank you. Robby’s been kind, let me go home early the day it happened and pick the best shifts. It seems he kept it secret, so I’m thankful.” You don’t mention that the last time you talked to him was six months ago in a lawyers office. You know Robby and even if you were still together, he would’ve taken this secret to the grave. One of the things you love about him.

She switches the topic to you, asking about your supposed trip, but a miracle, or rather a group of interns, rumbles past you. You might not be a doctor but they’re easy to spot, unsure or overconfident, spilling unhelpful advice like gospel. “Hey! Any of you Javadi?” You call out. The girl nearest you whips her head around like you just cursed her name. She looks barely past college, hair pulled back into a ponytail of midnight black. “Me. I- that’s me.” You bend down, plucking the hot chocolate out of its tray and handing it to her. Her eyes are bright and thankful, like it's a winning lottery ticket instead of a drink. “Thank you! I’m sorry, I don’t know your name, Doctor…”

“Robby!” The middle intern says, her posture stiff with self-confidence. “Um…” you trail off, looking to Collins for help before remembering she doesn’t know. “I heard Princess and Perlah talking. You’re Robby’s wife, right?” All you can do is gape at the gall of her, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Collins restrains a laugh, unhelpful, and the other interns are looking at you like you’ve hung the stars. What in the world do you-

“Indeed. Last time I checked, this was a hospital to learn, not gossip. Keep it moving, you three.” His voice is like melted honey, warm and gooey and too comforting to name. Collins mentions something about a patient, taking her leave with raised eyebrows. It’s hard, but you try not to acknowledge the voice behind you as you watch her walk away. Only when her red jacket disappears from view do you turn.

He doesn’t look good. It’s what you said you wanted, of course, but the truth is, you’re just concerned. There’s dark circles under his eyes, almost covered by those black rounded glasses of his. A few new grays grace the side of his head, stark against the rest of him. The wrinkles on his face make him look aged, not the wise wizard you forced him to be for Halloween a few years ago. His scruffy beard dots his jawline and the ache to feel it is so deep, you fear it’ll never leave.

“Hi.” You whisper shyly, a knock-kneed girl instead of the woman you are. He smiles that gentle smile of his, crow's feet unapologetic, and it seems to turn back time. Just yesterday, you might’ve been making dinner together or cuddling on the couch. “Hi. I heard you’ve got a drink for me?” You nod, not trusting your voice as you point to the chair in between you. Deft fingers find his cup and pull. It’s hard not to watch them work, not to trace the calluses and the nimble movements. “Since when do interns order you around?” He asks, taking a second to gulp down his coffee. You stare at the movement of his throat, so many dirty memories making themselves known in the back of your head. “I’ve been demoted, I guess.” It didn’t mean to come out like that but it’s clear that’s what he thinks, a sudden frown appearing on his face.

“Is something wrong? Some paperwork I need to sign?” He asks in a burst. Your stomach churns at the rejection and instinctively, you take a step back. He seems to try to follow you, but the leg of the chair stops him. “No, I just - It’s funny, I guess. I was at that new cafe across the street and ran into an intern who looked like he needed help and well, I figured it would be nice to see Cassie and Heather, so here I am.” You end your rant with a shrug, instantly regretting every decision that led you here. Of course you were going to run into him. There wasn’t any other path, not for you. And of course, he just thinks you’re here for paperwork. He’s clearly moved on, even if he looks like he’s hurting. It’s time you do to.

“Well, that’s all my drinks, so…” Trailing off, you look around desperately for help. The Pitt seems to be against you, everyone following their standard practice of leaving you two alone when all you want is to be away from him. “How are you?” He whispers like a secret, voice raspy but sure. Emotion swells in your sternum instantly at his question. Soft eyes take your awkwardness in stride as he steps around the chair until he’s on your left, back to the Pitt. The familiarity of it is like a bullet to chest. “I’m fine. You?”

Robby shrugs, letting you trace the lines of his shoulders under that familiar sweatshirt. "Rough couple of months, to be honest." You blink at his honesty. That same honesty that led to that fateful conversation - you'd served him the divorce papers, but he was the one to suggest lawyers and due process. The papers were meant to wake him up, make him realize how much he needed to fix this, but all they did was end things.

"I wanted to see you. Dana wouldn't give me your new address, something about not being ready. Plus, I think you blocked me," he laughs at himself like it's funny, what he's admitting. A thousand questions form, 'why' and 'when' and 'what'. You'd blocked him and deleted his number the moment the papers finalized, knowing you weren't strong enough to truly recover if you could talk to him. It looks like he didn't do the same, and a rare burst of hope shines through the fog that's made itself at home in your brain. You gape, no words coming to you.

One of those hands, strong and capable and not yours, raises to push his glasses up his nose. You freeze.

It's still there.

Three years ago, ring shopping to find a perfect band. He got a black plastic version as well, something he could wear to work without worrying about blood or a rogue patient. That same black band still graces his ring finger, a blaring alarm that things aren't what they seemed.

"Michael." There's nothing else to add, your eyes still trained on his hand. Of course, all-seeing as he is, he picks up on what you're looking at right away. He's quiet, face worn with contemplation. "Why?" You ask, voice wavering. Tears form in an instant, choking any air in your lungs. "I couldn't take it off," he admits, somber. You think of your own ring, tucked away in your new bedstand that you had to build yourself. "I don't understand," you rasp.

"Baby, I've been-"

"Robby, we need you!" A voice breaks through the bubble you're in. Without realizing, you've become almost nose-to-nose, curling your hands to your chest in an attempt to not touch him. He sighs, pulling back a little, and it's like losing the warmth of the sun. "You know where the staff lounge is?" He asks, smiling when you nod immediately. "Wait for me. I'll be there soon." He hands you his coffee and rips himself away, already reaching for a hand sanitizer station.

In the staff lounge, your book sits unopened on the table. It's hard to do when your mind won't stop whirling, wondering if you've gotten this all wrong. The door bursts open and you snap up, hopeful, only to shrink a little when you realize it's not him. You recover quickly, not wanting to seem rude in a place you're not supposed to be in. "Hi, Kiara." You've only met her once or twice, but she's the kind of comforting soul you'd remember. She gives you a smile and then beelines for the electric kettle in the back. "Mrs. Robby, how are you?" You gulp at her question, realizing your ex-husband truly told no one about his divorce. "I've been better, but nothing I can't handle. You?" It's hard not to be honest when she's so easy to talk to, pulling out a chair for her to wait for her kettle. "One of those days. A mother just lost her child, so I'm making her a hot tea." Despite the dark news, the tight-lipped smile she sends you seems genuine. You ask about the ER overall and she tells you about the mass-casualty event that happened last month. You know a bit from Jake's mom, checking in on him through her instead of wanting to bother a grieving teenager who'd already been frustrated about the divorce.

As the kettle finishes, the door bangs open again. This time it is Robby, who looks flustered but sends you a smile anyways. It's like licking a spoon of brownie batter - secretive and a little wrong, but delicious anyways. You shouldn't have waited, should've left when you could, but deep down you need your questions answered. Kiara passes him with a cup in her hands, whispering something into his ear as she leaves. "I will." Robby replies, making you frown at the secrecy. Usually, if they're discussing a patient, they'll do it in front of you without names. Whatever that was had to be personal, and you're too emotionally raw not to ask.

"What was that?" You mutter, a little unkindly. Robby takes a seat, and you push his coffee cup towards him. His knee taps yours in thanks and stays there, its presence bewildering but not unwelcome. "She told me to use the communication skills we've been talking about." A laugh bursts out of you and you regret it instantly, your knee pressing into his. "Since when do you have communication skills?" You chortle. That's one of the things he might have at work, but never in a relationship. It used to be a joke between you, how you had to pry his true feelings out of him at the beginning of your relationship, but it turned to bitter satire in the end.

A heavy hand lands on your thigh, burning its way through the thin fabric of your leggings. "I know my communication has been...lacking," you hold back a snort, "but after last month, I've been talking to Kiara. Seems like I should've been following my own advice all this time." He admits, squeezing your thigh at the end of his sentence. Wide-eyed shock works its way through your veins. He actually addressed the major reason you said you wanted a divorce. The contentment you feel is like a nugget of gold, there for you to hoard and keep safe from judgement.

"Robby, that's wonderful. I'm proud of you, really." You exclaim, finding his hand on your leg and covering it with your own. The silicone of his ring digs into your fingers, and you let it. "I like it better when you call me Michael." He confesses. His chair squeaks as he turns towards you, shifting positions until his knees bracket yours on either side. His free hand raises to cup your face, familiar fingers petting your hair and your skin.

"Why are you wearing your ring, Michael?" You blurt, the need for his answer too great to hold back. Your ex-husband sighs, leaning forward until his face is all you see. On instinct, you reach out to take off his glasses and set them on the table. He always complained they hurt his nose, so he only wears them when reading. You brush the imprint left behind, smoothing down red marks and tracing the places you used to kiss every morning.

"You're still the love of my life, sweetheart." He confesses as you stiffen. He takes the lead, guiding you out of the chair and onto the worn couch on the far side of the room. It's easier to sink into his hold here, your face and your heart in the palms of his hands. Yells echo through the door, giving you an out to slide back and interrogate.

"That's how you treat the love of your life? You barely talked to me for months, Robby. You refused to go to therapy or marriage counseling and..." What you leave unsaid is too hurtful to bare. An old insecurity that was watered by months of loneliness, Robby picking up shifts to skip out on weekends together. "And what, baby? Don't hold back now." He practically demands, tugging your legs into his lap so you're under the full force of his stare. "And you started skipping weekends with me. Taking shifts when we were supposed to go on dates. Smelling different, like perfume instead of disinfectant." You whisper the last part, staring at your hands in your lap.

He laughs. An actual laugh.

You try to push off of him, but he tugs you until all the fight drains out. "I really fucked this up, haven't I?" He states. Robby almost never swears, so the use of one makes you pay attention. "Will you stop being an asshole and tell me what you mean?" You pout, upset that your emotions are getting brushed off. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip that juts out, tucking it back until he touches your teeth. "Detergent, baby, I swear. They found some awful cheap laundry detergent for our scrubs. I had some bad luck for weeks, fluids on me every day." He reasons, but you refuse to believe it. He knows you too well, of course. Robby tilts your chin until your eyes catch on a box of Rose Detergent for Hospitals, Clinics, and More near the trash can.

"This is what I mean, Michael! This kind of shit was in my head for months but I couldn't talk to you." He sobers instantly, that constant forlorn expression of his making itself known on his face. Robby interlaces your hands, laying his in your lap. Against your will, it grounds you. "The administration had wanted me to do a post-COVID remembrance for all the workers we lost and I just couldn't. Couldn't look at you without being reminded that I lived when so many better people died. I felt like I didn't deserve our happiness, and I took it out on you. I'm sorry." Only when he brushes your face do you realize it's wet. This is what you wanted for months, to hear the thoughts in his head instead of his sarcastic quips or his no-nonsense tone. This was your husband.

He held you to his chest, letting you calm down to the sound of his heartbeat. There's a compulsion under your skin, wanting to bind you two together until you don't know where you end and he begins. Ambulance sirens and pattering footsteps and shouts of pain all fade away when you work your hands through his scruffy beard, admiring the glints of silver that show here and there. "You might be a doctor, but you're an idiot." He nods, letting you curl further into him. "I don't regret divorcing you, because I am not doing your emotional labor for you." Another nod, this one shorter and more serious. "But I'm willing to try again, if you want to. The right way, where we go to counseling and actually talk." Finally, a grin. It changes his entire face, muscle and sinew rearranging into the man you once knew.

He doesn't have to answer. His kiss does it for him.

It's soft and tentative, barely there. A surge of anger sinks through you at how utterly bull-headed he's been. You push into him until his back hits the sofa, climbing him until your pelvises meet in a kiss. You pour months of resentment into your kiss and he meets you halfway, muscles under you tensing as you clash. "You asked to get lawyers." You bite his jaw as you say it, a fact you've been stewing over. "Wanted to make sure you got my money." He squeezes your ass, pulling you into him until you roll your hips over his cock, barely contained by his scrubs. This isn't the place for your first recoupling, but with how the couch is out of the way of the window over the door, and that no one seems to be looking for him, it'll do for now.

"Such a stubborn old man." You gripe, then gasp as he nips your neck. Robby lays kisses to your jaw, trailing down to your neck and sucking hard like a teenager. Broad hands urge your hips to grind, fucking yourself in his lap as you chase satisfaction. It's been so long since you've had an orgasm, every attempt reminding you of Robby. "Pretty sure you used to call me something else, baby." He mutters, one hand leaving your waist to sneak under your sweater. He finds your nipples hardened and achy, pulling one out of your bra cup and rolling it between his fingers. "I only call my husband that." You whine as your clit hits just the right angle of his clothed cock, bucking faster in his lap.

"Everyone around here knows you as my wife." He shoots back, pinching your nipple to emphasize his point. You find the crook of his neck and lay your forehead there, panting as your thighs burn with their ministrations. His hand on your waist flattens, fingers inching closer to your front but not where you need them. It's clear he's waiting for something, his thumb tracing the outline of your panties as he stays there. The longing to give in is too great.

"Please, Daddy. I need to come." You moan, not letting shame make its way into your head. You can feel him grin against you as his thumb finds your clothed clit, rubbing small circles as you keep bucking. It's what you needed, release creeping over you until you collapse in his arms. He moves his hips a few times into you until you complain of overstimulation.

"Think I just came in my pants." He mutters as you pull back. Giggles erupt from you, turning into snorts as you take in the pained expression on his face. Dr. Michael Robinavitch, coming in his pants like a teenager as his wife straddles him.

"Good thing they have scrubs. And a new rose detergent, I heard." You sass, squealing as he pinches your nipple, still cupped in his hand. He rights your clothing as you calm down, tucking your bra back in place and untwisting your leggings. "You're lucky I love you." He pecks your forehead before resting his own against it. You close your eyes in satisfaction, relieved to have filled this year-old hole in your heart. "I love you too, Michael." Your breaths mingle for a few moments, peace in the middle of the most unpeaceful place in Pittsburg.

Someone bangs on the door. Dana smirks at both of you like she predicted this was coming. "Two GSW's on the way, five minutes." You both sigh at getting caught, yet again. At least it was Dana. "Just enough time to get new scrubs." You cheer. He laughs, moving you both to a standing position before pecking your forehead again. "Put your address in my phone." He orders, fishing out his phone from where it fell into the couch cushions. "So forward, Doctor." You laugh as you type into his familiar phone. "I'll be over with takeout around 7:30, Mrs. Robinavitch." You grin.

"With your luck, it'll be 8 o'clock."

"Will you still wait?"

"Always."

this got away from me but wow it was necessary

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