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moonbaby26 · 3 months

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Title: Sweet Nothings

(Chapter 13 of Doflamingo’s Marine Series)

*Crossposted to AO3 Here*

Chapter Pairings: Doflamingo x Reader, Doflamingo x Crocodile (referenced), Aokiji/Kuzan x Reader (referenced)

Chapter Warnings: language, toxic relationship, noncon, dubious consent, drugged reader, toxic masculinity, anal sex, oral sex (female receiving), sex toys, size difference

Chapter Synopsis: On the evening of your arrival in Dressrosa, you are forced to meet with that collection of your former enemies, otherwise known as Doflamingo’s trusted inner circle. As well as spend your very first night in the royal bed chambers of your new king.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

——————————

——————————

To try and explain this feeling to anyone who had never looked down the barrel of a gun, or across the edge of a sword as it swung for their throat would have been near impossible.

Because that sudden anticipation of danger was more than just adrenaline, more than only an elevated heart rate. It was like an energy through the muscles themselves. It was there in the way everything felt sharper as that door creaked open.

Trebol, Diamante, and Pica, the three remaining Donquixote family executives awaited you. Ruthless men who Tsuru would have had in sea prism chains at very first opportunity back then.

But who, through the comedy of government immunity were now present as if they’d ascended to the role of dignitaries in their own right. Sitting on their individual thrones with the club, diamond, and spade designs carved onto those respective seat backs behind them.

And they alone would have been more than enough for you.

But this read like a staff meeting from hell as you saw all the other eyes as well. More pirates standing slightly behind those chairs. The executives’ direct subordinates, the Donquixote officers, were in attendance as well.

Some whose faces and skill sets you remembered better than others. But no matter their age or gender, all equally untrustworthy in your mind. Because of their fanatical loyalty solely to the smiling man now stalking across that plush carpet right behind you.

You’d moved purposefully to stay ahead of Doflamingo, getting as close to one of the massive windows as you could.

A window you knew you could still break. An exit and the only thing in this room you would put your back to as you let your body lean into that windowsill. This took some of the pressure off your weaker leg in the meantime. But your feet were flexing within your shoes regardless.

You were still ready to move.

You saw Diamante’s blue eyes already lingering over your bandaged thigh. And you knew exactly what his thought process must be.

There’d be no easy escape for you today.

Your wings were clipped this time.

They all knew it.

You heard a heavy breathing as well that was becoming closer and closer to a laugh. From Trebol of course in that otherwise near silence as Doflamingo hesitated.

It was as if their king was taking it all in and observing that everyone who mattered to him was actually here before he finally spoke.

“I’ll keep this brief. I know we’re all busy.” He said.

You had your arms crossed from your place at the windowsill. A posture that would have let you block your torso and reach for your weapon all at once.

But when Doflamingo turned, now facing you instead of them, it was humiliating how quickly your full attention went back to him and him alone.

And he noticed of course. It was all over that smug expression on his handsome face as he approached you.

There was nothing you could do but stare in return, your surprise barely hidden as he’d then turned again to sit on that same windowsill beside you.

Hip to hip actually, intentionally tight together as you had to put even more weight onto your other leg not to be visibly pushed aside by him.

Another show of dominance was what it felt like as you were put right back into that tight aura of his cologne and body heat once more.

He was showing his claim on you in front of everyone.

“The captain will be staying with us. With me.” Doflamingo still emphasized even on top of that clear body language. Speaking while his fingers briefly tightened on the windowsill.

“We’ve all had our past grievances of course…but that past is gone. And as I’ve said before, a new era will be coming. We must adapt or fall behind. Pirate…marine, these meanings have always changed with the times. And it’s changing again here. At least for us. This is a taste of our future.”

And as he began to tell them these things, you felt his hand slide back over your thigh.

The additional touch was not unexpected, but the new words which accompanied it were. Because what did their future possibly have to do with you? You were only his bauble, his fixation.

You had expected to be paraded in front of his crew of course. You had expected petty revenge and gloating in reward for all those years of your crew pursuing his. But you were experiencing something else now as Doflamingo’s smile faded in tandem with his grip on your leg growing even harder.

“You are all my family. I should have included you more in this…” And his voice was changing a little too then. There was almost a moment of self-reflection there, the briefest hint of an actual apology. “I know it’s moving so quickly. But I had to make a decision and I had to make it fast when we ran into trouble in Scylla.”

We?

Only you had been hurt in Scylla. Not him. He hadn’t even been attacked. But the way he’d said it suggested otherwise.

“You shouldn’t have had to find out just from the newspapers. But my hand was forced. She needed to come home immediately. Momonga wouldn’t have had a clue how to protect her.”

And a sound came out of you at that, one of indignation surely. But the moment your body had moved to reflexively stand, Doflamingo had pushed you back down without even looking. His hand that had been on your thigh held you down across both of your legs then to the windowsill, strong as any chain.

Whether you were more insulted on Momonga’s behalf or your own was left unclear.

Because the highest pitched, most unnatural voice chirped up as Pica was the first of the Donquixote crew to respond to their leader’s words. “It’s okay, Doffy. We know you’ll always do what’s best for the family!”

Thankfully you had heard Pica’s voice before, so it wasn’t as fully jarring as it could have been. But he still interrupted your anger just for that moment as your brain had had to process the noise.

And once he had spoken, as if trying to comfort Doflamingo, it broke the thick tension in the room enough for more voices to begin joining in.

“So are you engaged after all, young master? May I paint the official announcement then!? I have so many ideas practically flowing from me already!”

Giolla. A nightmare of a woman.

You remembered waking up screaming with your fellow tent mates one night. Camping deeply inland on a mission, when all of the blankets were suddenly a disgusting yellow and green neon. That fabric wrapped around most of your throats before the tent collapsed. You’d all had to either cut your way out or succumb while she’d cackled in the distance.

“She doesn’t have a ring though!” A younger female voice interrupted there. It’d come from a teenage brunette who was still somewhat concealed behind Pica’s chair.

Baby 5. Not a harmless opponent either in how many times you’d had to backtrack to avoid receiving too much of her suppressive fire. It turned out even kids weren’t nearly as cute once they could transform one of their legs into a gatling gun to shatter walls around you.

But familiar or not, you’d never been on this side of it. You’d never seen Doflamingo’s responses to them without the pressures of being in the midst of battle.

There was a shocking amount of patience in the way his body actually started to relax. Even as they talked over one another, you saw his face turn to look at them. Giving attention to each officer individually, as if this circus was every day and then some for him.

“Thank you, Pica. I am trying to do what’s going to payoff best for us in both present and future.” He said to his executive first.

And then to Giolla. “I’m not calling it an engagement yet to the public. My priority was getting home first without interference. But it will be soon.”

Finally to Baby 5, “Well, you aren’t wrong. I’ll be needing to correct that, won’t I?”

His hand moved again suddenly at that, grabbing your left wrist to force you to uncross your arms.

You did pull back with some resistance. You were not his fucking posable doll after all. But he smirked at this, his grip increasing enough to immediately hurt while he still turned your hand as if to show them all your unadorned fingers.

“I was thinking diamond with ruby accents. You know how I like red.” He added.

“Sugar and I could help you pick something out, young master.” A young woman who looked to be nearest your own age spoke then. But her face you didn’t know. At least you didn’t remember ever fighting her. Nor did you recognize the small girl with the blue green hair standing beside her either. The little girl who was now giving you a rather cold stare.

“That would be fine, Monet.” Doflamingo answered the young woman, letting your hand slip away from him again then.

But he stood back away from the windowsill not long after. “We’ll have a bit of time to make all these plans. For now though, the press will be hanging around the island wanting the latest scoop I’m sure. And no one says anything to them without my permission, is that understood?”

“Yes, Doffy,” and “Yes, young master,” came from several of them simultaneously then. No question in them at all.

And he seemed reasonably satisfied in this.

Enough so that you hoped this meeting was nearly adjourned before he turned again, hands in his pockets now as he grinned directly at you. Those bright teeth exposed once more. But his eyes narrowing behind his red lenses all the same from the way his brow had shifted.

“And do you have anything to say to everyone, love? Or have I adopted another mute marine into our home?”

Your own eyebrows raised. The pet name being used in front of his crew not even registering to you while you considered his other odd wording instead.

Another marine?

But you were on autopilot in reaction to all of this regardless. In uniform, surrounded by old enemies. What else did he expect from you as you just answered so mechanically.

“I have nothing. But I’m required to report in to HQ at least once a day and it’s getting late.”

And you knew you did want them all to remember that you were still an active duty marine. A marine who had been based in HQ with all the direct contacts that entailed.

Even a vague threat was better than nothing.

Or at least you’d thought so before you saw that inexplicable look of disappointment darken Doflamingo’s features.

He was staring at you. Like he wanted to say something else, but quickly changed his mind. “I meant…no, screw it. Never mind.” And he took a hand back out of his pocket to motion to the others instead.

“Giolla and Baby 5, I need you to escort the captain to the palace physician. Get them to properly clean and rebind that wound of hers. And have some real pain killers prescribed. I’m tired of seeing her just limp around.”

He’d put his back to you now though as he’d stepped even further away.

It was like…you had insulted him? With goddamn what? Were you supposed to gush about all of this to his family? Were you meant to be excited like being here was some kind of reward for you?

“Show her to her room after you’re done with the doctor.” Doflamingo also instructed them. “I need to talk with the executives alone for some further updates on business since I’ve been gone. The rest of you are dismissed back to your normal posts.”

And he did not look at you again as Giolla approached you with no fear.

“Then come on, sailor girl.” She said rather haughtily actually. “You’ll get lost otherwise. This castle is far more building than you’re used to I’m sure.”

And you gave her an annoyed look. What did she think Marineford was? A bungalow?

Baby 5 just followed behind you both quietly though. And you didn’t really like the girl at your back either. But as you glanced behind to check, it bothered you even more how much Doflamingo still would not acknowledge your exit at all.

Such a sudden contrast with as much as he couldn’t go without physical contact with you mere moments ago.

Whatever.

And you were nearly limping by then, just as he’d said. As much as you tried to prevent it, following Giolla out of the room while Baby 5 shadowed behind you.

——————————

When all but his three executives had exited, and the door had been safely closed again, Doflamingo finally sighed.

He tilted his head back, looking to the ceiling briefly as if some answer may be written there for him before his smile returned reflexively.

He laughed abruptly in absence of any other outlet.

“Fuck…it has been a weird week.” He announced, putting his hands behind his head, and stretching his torso slightly as he breathed out, like letting more of that tension dissolve from his muscles before he relaxed again.

His head tilted down to look at the others once more as his hands moved back into his pockets.

“She acts so much like Tsuru, doesn’t she?” Diamante said to him with a smirk then, elbow resting against the diamond seat’s armrest as his fist propped up his cheek. “So guarded.”

“Feh. Well, I blame you two. Could you have eye fucked her any harder than that, Diamante?” Doflamingo complained in immediate response, but still relaxed enough to show that this was more familial annoyance than actual anger. “Pica was the only goddamn gentleman here.”

Trebol snorted, mucus hanging from his face as always. “But I didn’t do anything, Doffy!”

“You were breathing like you were about to suck her face, Trebol. Pay the fucking pool girls more, go get laid. Goddamn.” Doflamingo grumbled to that.

“I was just observing her wounds,” Diamante replied calmly, but smiling back at his master none the less.

They’d all known each other long enough to understand where the real lines were. And this wasn’t yet it.

“Yeah, trying to see the slit under her skirt you mean, not the one on her thigh.” Doflamingo’s lip curled in a bit of further annoyance regardless.

“Well, Doffy, was is it as good as you thought it’d be?” Trebol asked abruptly.

Which brought an immediate noise of disgust from Pica.

“Oh shut up.” Trebol fussed to Pica’s obvious judgement. “Doffy chased this one for years! Why wouldn’t we ask!?”

“I thought we were going to talk about business.” Pica squeaked.

“If it was Sir Crocodile, Pica would be far more interested.” Diamante teased. “Just because it pees sitting down, you don’t want it. But the rest of us are far more equal opportunity.”

Doflamingo groaned. “We don’t pick on Pica for that.”

“Thank you, Doffy.” Pica huffed.

“But yes, it was goddamn good.” Doflamingo still answered Trebol regardless. “And oh, she wanted it. Scylla was a nonstop fuckfest until that little Nefertari cunt got in the way.”

Pica looked to the side, unimpressed, but Trebol flailed in his own chair a bit. “Behehe! I knew it!”

And of course it was difficult to say how much of this filthy talk was genuine, and how much was just the masculine posturing Doflamingo had learned that they expected from him.

But it was all part of the game, bravado and such. This boys’ club, only made even more extreme in their unique lack of morals and shared need to compensate for so many shortcomings to start with.

“Though you mention the reptile…” Doflamingo did feel that tension in his stomach beginning again in reference to that prick. “He’s a lot of the reason I had to take her and run. I wasn’t planning on bringing her here so soon. But plans changed.”

And all three of the executives were now looking at him seriously.

“It was Crocodile’s agents that attacked at that ball. I even talked to the fucker on a snail. He was so shitty to me as always.”

“The audacity!” Diamante spat, genuinely looking angry then as he straightened up in his chair so quickly.

“We should just go to Alabasta and kill him, Doffy! Let’s do it for real this time!” Trebol’s voice also immediately sharpened, snot spilling out over each armrest of the club seat in his agitation.

Only Pica seemed contemplative, before responding far more calmly by comparison. “I’m so sorry, Doffy. He doesn’t see your worth. But he never has.” And it wasn’t patronizing at all. Somehow it never was from Pica.

The room was quiet after that as well. Doflamingo’s hands clenching within his pockets as he bit his bottom lip slightly. Just before another smile spread across his face to erase that fleeting emotion. “It’s fine.” He said. “I told gator boy that he’d already been replaced. But I’m not sure if he’s done. I don’t think that he is. I feel like he’s going to make some kind of move on her just to spite me. Perhaps it’s paranoia on my part…but I’m not sure.”

“She’ll be safe here, Doffy.” Pica assured.

And Doflamingo did take another deep breath. That was something else he needed to get off of his chest as well. “Yeah, about that...” He paused again, but only briefly before he just forced the words out. There was no reason to play around. Not with them. “I’m reinstating the rule of blood effective immediately. That marine is now under its protection. I want you to tell your subordinates. But she’s not to know.”

And to watch the initial surprise wash across his executives’ faces, followed by the gradual dawn of what it could actually mean for you was strange to witness even for the warlord.

But he did not back down in response to their shock. Though Diamante was the first to ask the question aloud. Something Doflamingo never would have thought would one day be discussed here within the Hall of Suits.

“Young master…are you implying that that girl is…with child?”

Only Donquixote blood had ever met this standard within his group. To be protected and guarded, punished under penalty of death to those that would dare spill even a drop of it.

“She will be.” Doflamingo answered so firmly, no hesitation that time. “Because this is what I want. And the heart seat has sat empty long enough.”

He was staring at that empty chair now as he tried to keep the resulting stress from his voice. The pain which came every time he considered who that chair really should have been meant for.

“Can’t you imagine it, gentlemen? We haven’t had a proper new recruit in so long. They always disappoint us in the end…or betray. Because of that innate weakness within them. But how could anyone that came from my own body ever fail to that degree? Someone that I’ll be able to shape straight from its mother’s womb this time. Don’t you want to find out?”

“A royal heir.” Pica said in sudden awe.

“A new demon to be your right hand in this world.” Trebol added, cruel eyes looking over the top of his own sunglasses then.

“All that and more.” Doflamingo sneered. “A new generation of Donquixote blood. My blood.”

—————————

The doctor hadn’t been terrible. You could tell he was obviously a civilian. The Donquixote family didn’t actually have a physician within their crew. Which, yes, what self respecting doctor could have tolerated them and their violence for long after taking any oath to heal?

But this whole thing with going back to the room after your leg had been fully redressed was its own new weirdness.

You’d reasonably assumed that you’d get no privacy of your own in this place. So the fact that they were saying that this was your room was wholly contradictory to all the possessive claims Doflamingo had made from the very beginning. All that talk of having you beside him in his bed alone at first opportunity and all.

And walking around in your so called room with Giolla and Baby 5 now, it was hard to imagine even the king’s chambers being much bigger than this. The layout was beautiful and spotless, clearly recently cleaned. Large windows had their heavy red curtains pulled open for so much natural light as you’d walked to one of them.

Giolla was still rattling on about all the color changes she’d make if allowed, calling the room a blank canvas in an almost angry way. But the real view in the distance had soon caught your eye as you’d stared out of the window, fully ignoring her.

“That’s Flower Hill.” Came the other voice then.

You gave Baby 5 a sharp look as you didn’t like being snuck up on that way. But she wasn’t even looking at you, her entire focus was beyond the palace as well.

“I wish my bedroom faced it.” She sighed, but then smiled. “You should ask the young master to take you there if you like flowers. I bet he would. He doesn’t get out much. He’s always working. It’d be good for him.”

“You don’t have to pretend, Baby 5. And you don’t have to talk to me just because he told you to.” You replied simply. Not cold, just honest before you turned back away from that window to keep exploring.

You could understand why he’d sent Giolla. Maybe not trusting you alone with his male crew just yet. And that woman was still capable enough with her devil fruit to give you a hard time if you’d tried anything.

But with Baby 5, Doflamingo already knew your weakness for kids. Though she appeared to be a teen now.

That really young looking girl with the blue green hair probably would have made more sense to use if he was going to scheme that way. But that girl had almost been staring daggers through you during the entire meeting, so perhaps not.

“Huh?” You heard Baby 5 ask anyway though, still following you as you’d walked to what at first you’d thought was a door to the bathroom. Just to find it was actually a whole walk in closet. Actually you could have probably jogged a small lap in it.

“Goddamn.” You cursed, seeing the dresses already hanging in there.

“Whattttt!?” Baby 5 gasped, immediately running in as she realized it was fully stocked as well. She looked from the dresses to the shoes, to the jewelry. She was almost trembling as she touched some of the fabric in surprise. “This wasn’t even here yesterday! Giolla! Giolla, look!” She whined.

“Oh, calm down. They were delivered this morning.” Giolla scoffed, still eyeballing the blank walls.

Baby 5 seemed to have forgotten about you entirely then. She was now sorting through the necklaces, eyes looking rather wet as she held up one after another.

You sighed, again remembering exactly where you were. Pirates and their damn treasure…and this all bought with blood money you were sure. Nothing you wanted to be a part of. “Take as much as you want if your boss doesn’t care. I don’t wear that stuff anyway.” You told the girl.

Her head whipped around immediately. “I…can I? Can I!?”

She was excited enough that you backed up slightly, almost concerned that she might hug you. You barely knew one another. “If Doflamingo doesn’t care…” You reaffirmed. Even with her only being a pirate, you wouldn’t intentionally get a teenager in trouble with him.

“If I don’t care about what?” Came that unmistakable voice from the still open doorway though.

And all three of you looked immediately in his direction. Which again, it should have been humiliating how quickly you stilled just with the return of his presence. You did feel his eyes on you now.

But Baby 5 had already dashed past you, her hands full of several necklaces as she bowed at the waist to him. “Young master! The marine said I could have these! May I!? Please!? She said I could!”

Giolla rolled her eyes behind her pointed cat eye glasses. “Quit bothering him! You’re so whiny sometimes, girl.”

But Doflamingo only smiled, hands in his pockets as he strolled right past Baby 5. “I guess if this marine said you could…”

“Thank you, young master!” And Baby 5 was back out that door with the jewelry in a flash. As if she didn’t want anyone to have a chance to change their mind.

“Young master…” Giolla sighed. “She’ll just pawn them or someone else will steal them from her.”

“I know.” Yet he had walked over to you even as he answered her. “But it made her happy for a moment didn’t it?”

And you were staring at him, uncertain if that exchange was all in show for you or not.

“Thanks for babysitting, Giolla. I can take it from here.” He was grinning in response to your stare. “I’m done working for tonight.”

“Very well. But I still think this wall would be far better served with a mural. Cubism with fiery reds, pinks, and hmm…blues? Like a volcano meeting the summer sky!”

“Good night, Giolla.” Doflamingo said rather gently.

“Good night, young master!” She responded, yet still somewhat distracted as she had walked out still mumbling something about compatible color palettes.

When the door had shut again, you found yourself alone with the warlord once more as you’d looked up into those shining sunglasses.

“She was babysitting me, huh?” You asked him, though still considering his posture carefully. Was he back in a better mood now?

“Somebody has to,” He smirked, and then he did reach up, moving his sunglasses back up into his hair in order to really look at you.

You blinked, still not used to that reveal each time. Especially not when you got to watch those expressive eyes actually relax at you.

“You were being a bitch earlier you know.” He said calmly. “Why wouldn’t you talk to my family?”

So you’d been right. He’d given you the cold shoulder at the end of that meeting all because he’d thought you didn’t handle that forced socialization like he wanted you to?

“Yeah, let me just sit you down with Garp or Akainu some day and see how that goes.” You only half joked, easily admitting that that wasn’t a scenario that’d likely go very well for you either. Not with the admiral at least. “Akainu hates me too though. And he’s the only one that answered the damn phone earlier. Lucky me.”

And you saw Doflamingo’s expression change. Like he was trying to digest one thing at a time. “You called Akainu?” His thin eyebrows raised.

“No. I called Tsuru, but it never would connect. They must be out of range again. So then I called HQ and they said Sengoku and Garp were out of the office. So I asked for an admiral. And lo and behold, only one wasn’t already on the phone.”

“And why does he hate you?” Doflamingo asked next.

There was something sadly funny in it too. You knew you shouldn’t have mentioned it at all. Not to a pirate. But somehow you just didn’t care in this moment either.

“I think he knows how stupid I really am.” Was what you finally said. Rarely were you this self deprecating out loud. But it was obviously true this time.

It must be, because Doflamingo was standing so close to you again. And you didn’t stop yourself.

You were the one that reached for him first. Worn down and so isolated here among old enemies. The need for his warmth was abruptly overwhelming to you.

And with the way Doflamingo tensed, you’d surprised him as well as your arms went around his bare waist, under his open shirt and that pink feather coat as you laid the side of your face against his torso. Skin to skin.

He silenced, still looking down at you as you actually hugged him. You hugged the goddamn warlord who had brought you here like only a conquered object on parade.

But within seconds a large hand was on your back, keeping you close as he stroked you from your shoulder blades down to just below your hips.

“So this is how it’s going to be, hmm?” He murmured and you felt the muscles in his abdomen relaxing again. “You’re going to be a bitch marine in front of my crew, but then come cuddling up to me when you’re tired and we’re finally alone?”

“I don’t know.” You said honestly. There was no precedent for this. “You still feel good.”

“So do you.” He did agree. But then you felt yourself being lifted easily again. “But this is your room. Come on, woman.”

“What?” You asked, confused as he carried you right past your bed.

Those pain killers the doctor had prescribed were on the nightstand in a bottle there as he saw and pocketed them however.

You just watched as he walked over to a stone book shelf in the corner next. Holding you up with one arm, his other hand pulled his strings to make that shelf move open on a hidden hinge.

Your eyes widened as you felt the air movement that emerged. You heard him chuckle as your grip had tightened on him and he slipped into that narrow passage with you. Him being careful actually to not let you scrape the wall before he’d continued out into the darkness and with another sound of moving stone, new light poured through.

Dimmer, and with more hues of red however as the sun was now setting through the windows of this new room. Yes, you’d thought your room had been large. And you’d been entirely wrong. As this was practically a residence in its own right, now sprawled before you as you tried to take in the true size of it.

“This castle predates Mariejois.” He said carefully. “And these connecting spaces were the original royal chambers before Riku’s bloodline tried to change everything. They thought this was too ostentatious, too big for any one family. They used these as storage and public meeting areas instead and moved their own bed chambers to lower floors. But when I took over…I put it back to how it should be. This was the original king’s chambers. Connecting to the other rooms of his spouse and children through those passage ways. So that they could all come and go while never having to fully interact with the lesser court and staff in the rest of the castle.”

You couldn’t imagine anyone ever being this rich. Even with it laid out here right in front of you. With a main locked door that still shut this off from the more public palace corridor. Just in what you could see right now, there was an open living area, a large sitting room with paintings and statues, and a separate hallway that must lead to the actual king bed chamber and bath.

“You live here…alone?” You asked with your arms still loosely around his neck as he held you in his arms.

“I did.” He answered.

And there was a new nervousness in you in the way you felt him carrying you down that hallway to his bedroom. Right past a fully stocked bar of wine, rum, beer, vodka, and gods knew what else.

He’d brought you over a threshold once before on his ship. But this was even more personal, even more private as that massive bed came into view.

With all of this before you…for the very first time you did really believe that this was what it meant to be in the intimate company of the King of Dressrosa. And you did not know how to feel about that.

“Doffy…” You tried. You knew he had talked about wanting this. But if he got too absorbed in his fantasies again, he could lose self control like before. He would really hurt you again.

“Take the pain killer.” He insisted, and then he was sitting on that dark bed with you in his lap as he pulled the bottle back out of his coat pocket. “Or am I going to have to force feed you this?”

“Why are you so adamant?” You asked, with your voice beginning to sound even more worried.

“Because I don’t feel like getting my ribs broken when you arbitrarily decide the lovemaking hurts too much.”

And you took a breath. Part of you immediately angry that he would even insinuate that you had somehow overreacted when punching him that hard the last time he’d hurt you during sex, on his ship on the way here.

And yet, another part of your brain was also hitching on the sudden shift in semantics which led him to call that activity lovemaking for the very first time.

The two feelings somewhat cancelled each other out honestly as you just looked at him without finding something to really say in response.

“And there you go not talking again. Don’t do that shit. It’s annoying.” He huffed, opening the pill bottle now.

“I’m not taking those dry.” You finally said then.

And he did smirk there. “Oh you weak thing. You want it to be wet to wash these down…you want it to be wet when I put it in you. Can’t you ever just take things as they are?”

“Can’t you ever be gentle?” You retorted right back at him there at least.

He grinned, but sliding you out of his lap as he stood from the bed. Leaving you alone on its edge as he walked to the nearest snail on an end table.

“Feh. You’d get bored of that real fast. But in the name of variety…yes. I sometimes can.” And he clicked that snail, still with the pill bottle in his other hand.

“Yes, your highness?” A hurried voice immediately came from the other end.

“Bring up dinner to my chambers. With plates, utensils, and water for two.”

“Yes, right away, sir. And would you like dessert for two as well?”

He hesitated. “What is the dessert tonight?”

“Flores de hojaldre, sir.” They quickly replied.

He glanced at you, and the look you gave was entirely unhelpful as you had no idea what that even was.

But his resulting smile told you that he obviously did. “Yeah, that for two as well.”

“Your order is placed with the chef, sir. We will have it up momentarily.”

And they weren’t kidding. You’d basically only had time to take off your boots and coat. Which he put away for you somewhere.

Then before you knew it he’d unlocked the door out in the living area and servants had rolled a cart in and up to a dining table in yet another section out there. They served the food and set everything before discreetly disappearing just as quickly as they’d come.

The table was the expected rectangular shape. It looked about as old as the castle itself, heavy and wooden as you approached, noting his obvious seat at the head of it. But your place had been set just on his left.

On his blind side. Yet, he seemed comfortable with that as you’d joined him. He had put his sunglasses back on in the lantern light. But then raised them into his hair again once the servants had left.

And finally you did take just two of those pain pills with a goblet of ice water as you watched that lantern light moving on his cheek bones.

“Happy now?” You asked him.

“Very,” he smiled. But he was already eating. This time the entree was a roasted pork dish with a pepper sauce.

And you were eating too, but slower than him as you were still taking in all the details. They’d already uncovered the dessert tray before leaving. And you hated to admit, but it was that old cliche of almost looking too good to eat.

They were little pastries that looked like roses. But even prettier than the real thing actually. Flowers made from the pastry sheet being layered over and over like petals and dusted with powdered sugar and a drizzle of honey.

“You like flowers?” Doflamingo asked after he’d taken another deep drink of the water himself, noticing you still examining one of those desserts.

At least he’d be sober tonight you thought. No open alcohol to be seen yet.

“I guess?” You answered.

“What do you mean you guess?” He mocked rather quickly though.

You shrugged. “Flowers aren’t really something we get to have at sea. There’s nowhere to plant them.”

“You’re far too sheltered.” He scoffed anyway. “I think I’ll need to complain to Tsuru.”

And you rolled your eyes, taking another drink too.

But it did all feel strangely casual. Enough that you were able to ask something else.

“So are you really going to waste money on some fancy ring? You know I can’t wear that when I fight. It’ll catch on everything and get in my way.”

And his attention did refocus there as he turned his head to see you fully. His eyes were more cautious again. “I didn’t say you had to wear it every day. An engagement ring is for show. But you are getting a wedding band. I don’t care if you break someone’s nose again with it. They’re going to know you aren’t available any longer as you crush them.”

“And will the king be wearing one as well?” You asked a little more bratty there, not fully on board with being tagged this way yourself honestly.

“Of course.” He smiled almost darkly however. “But I’m not saying that would solve all of our problems. A piece of metal is nothing to most. You’ll still need to protect your territory.”

“My what?”

And he gave you a skeptical look. But then acted like you were just that simple and needed this more clearly laid out for you. “You don’t want anyone else fucking me, correct? So you have to claim me.”

Well you had been enjoying your food. Did things have to go here? Did he need his ego stroked again this soon?

“I don’t want a STD secondhand from a pool girl, no. If that’s what you’re asking. Do you at least make them get tested regularly?” The better brothels usually did, as well as providing effective contraceptive at all times of course.

Only the shitholes like where you’d grown up in didn’t. Which is how you’d been born at all. You and so many other of those brothel kids that you’d helped take care of right up until the time you finally escaped with Tsuru.

And Doflamingo did scowl then. He wanted to be flattered, to feel that you wanted him all to yourself you were sure. He did not want to be suddenly lectured on best healthcare practices with his pool whores.

“I told you I always use protection with everyone else.” He muttered.

“They don’t suck it with a condom over you I’m sure. And condoms can break.” Especially as well endowed and rough as he always was actually.

He was clearly getting irritated though. “So what are you supposing we do? Are you going to stay here with your legs open for me day and night so that I don’t need backup options? I thought you wanted to keep sailing.”

And finally you did look a little more hurt yourself there. Though you shouldn’t have. It was a ridiculous and gross conversation to even be having when you already knew the answer. “Just being available isn’t enough to make a man love me or be faithful. You’re going to fuck who you want to and there’s nothing I can do about it. So don’t even pretend otherwise.”

And you’d heard the resulting growl just before he’d moved. Even with his usual temper, it didn’t make sense to you that this particular truth would have goaded him like this.

A long arm had shot across that corner of the table to catch you by the jaw. “You stupid woman.” He forced you to look up at him further in your surprise.

“I don’t want fodder any longer. But if you think love is something just freely given and not fought and killed for, then that’s exactly why you’ve never had it!”

And it wasn’t his grip alone that had your heart feeling so suddenly off pace with that outburst. It was the strange look in his eyes. And it was whatever was abruptly in your own voice as you’d retorted just as fiercely before you could stop yourself.

He’d hit that nerve within you.

“What are you talking about!? I did fight for it! Every time I could and they still didn’t care!” You heard those words from your own mouth. But it felt like someone else was saying them for you.

And his eyes narrowed. His hand did not let go of your jaw. “Then who? Who did you waste that energy on?” You saw the way even his left eye seemed to be focusing on you from beyond the scar tissue now. It put a chill through you as he asked something so much worse and you froze. “Who did you ever love?”

There was no possible response that would’t make this immediately worse for you. He’d know if you lied. He’d know if you told the truth.

Why in hell was he doing this?

“Answer me!” He hissed.

And he was going to fucking dislocate your jaw if he squeezed much harder.

You had no choice as that twisting sensation went through your chest. You didn’t think, you didn’t plan. That name came straight from those old feelings alone as you let it go.

“Kuzan….it was just Kuzan.”

It didn’t matter how brief your time with that fellow marine had really been. Because you’d chased the same feeling in every man after him hadn’t you? That safety and level of affection that had never been repeated.

And you saw the immediate change in Doflamingo’s eyes at that revelation. Like a mirror to your own when he now saw something he couldn’t take back. Something he could never undo in you, no matter how hard you knew he was going to try.

“Just because he fucked you first!?” Came the initial petulant response. “I told you I would have! I wanted you before he even knew who you were!”

And it was beginning to hurt inside of you again. More pain than even his vice like grip as the desperation grew.

“It wasn’t about timing!” You cried back at him. “He didn’t want anything from me! I chose him, I went after him! I let him be the first because I already had those feelings…”

And Doflamingo’s chest heaved. You saw his lips draw tight, pulling away from his teeth. And for all that was holy, you could swear you heard that man’s voice start to break. “You were too fucking young to know the difference! You don’t know what love is! I know that you don’t!”

He was fully yelling at you then. His arm that still held your face was trembling.

Tears were starting in your eyes. And then he said it, like a gunshot.

“Because I love you! Only me! Do you understand!? Why the fuck do you think I would put myself through all of this!? I could have any bitch! Any man! Because you’re all goddamn trash! But I get to choose who I want! I get to choose who to take and who to spare to be at my side!”

And he’d shoved you in full disgust then, your head hitting the seat back of your chair as he’d let you go.

You saw the way the muscles in his face moved. A terrifying combination of rage and grief as you shuddered in return, waiting for him to come out of his seat after you.

But he didn’t. He was breathing too hard, his bare chest still rising and falling as he stared at you unblinking.

And you were left shaking in response. This new habit that only he seemed capable of bringing out in you. Your body had no idea how to otherwise dispel these intense emotions.

And he exhaled loudly. His fist was clenched against the table top. “I want you to be my wife. That’s why you’re here! I don’t care about your past. Just do what I’m telling you to do. It’s as simple as signing a goddamn piece of paper. Do it before anyone else fucks this up for us. Then when you’re ready, we can go back to Scylla. Together. We’ll have the kind of ceremony that we deserve.”

He was bargaining so suddenly there. From full rage back to bargaining. There was a true desperation in it all as his anger visibly weakened. The mounting stress was eating that power back away from him.

“Say yes goddamn it.” He growled anyway when you still didn’t respond quickly enough.

But you couldn’t find any words. Your throat felt too tight as you finally just nodded at him. Tears were stained all down your face by now.

And the blood vessels in his forehead were pulsing as you heard his teeth grit when the top and bottom briefly slid against one another.

You knew that neither of you were going to eat anymore tonight as he did stand then and pushed his chair back.

His grip was on your arm shortly after as he pulled you out of your own chair.

You didn’t resist, but you didn’t look at him either as he picked you up in his arms again.

And he said nothing this time as he carried you back to that royal bed chamber.

No words at all as he’d let you down on the bed shortly after, and then started taking off his clothes. The sunglasses he set down on another small table nearby. His coat he’d already hung up before eating. Now just leaving his shoes, shirt, and pants as he took those off one by one before casting them to the floor.

He was fully nude as he then kneeled onto the bed and starting undressing you as well.

And you just let him. Your own mind still so confused, so overwhelmed as you felt his glare across you.

It was all done in terrible silence as your shirt was unbuttoned, and he reached behind your back to unhook your bra with one hand. He slid them both off of you, tossed into that same pile with his own clothes before your skirt and then underwear joined them.

He did pause there, like observing your naked body in full regardless. Before taking another stressed breath and backing back off of the bed to return his feet to the floor.

You could see his erection already starting to rise before he grabbed you by the ankles and dragged you until your slit was exposed to him at the very edge of the mattress.

He was on his knees again then, in some sick way resembling someone about to pray before he spread your legs just enough to bend down and put his face abruptly between them.

Nothing with him should have surprised you by now.

But your thighs immediately tried to close at the sensation, and you felt the small metal hoops of Doflamingo’s earrings rubbing against that skin as his tongue pushed out as hard as possible against your entrance.

That pink muscle so long and so very wet as it probed just inside of you, before he undulated it roughly across the outside again. Along the entire length of your slit, all the way from your rectum to up against your clit. He gave attention to it all without ever uttering another word. Deep, long licks as your breathing deepened and your thighs still tensed around him.

And with your legs over his shoulders, he even began kissing you there as well. You felt his lips, softer than they had any right to be while they moved over your clit. His nose pressing you, but his body language still frustrated even as he began to suck that bundle of your nerves so carefully

Never had he been as purposeful and slow as this. Just moving from one part to another. Not even trying specifically to make you cum as he so easily could have if he’d forced the stimulation any faster already.

He alternated attention to your thighs as well. Kissing and licking them too as you still kept them relatively close around his head.

His large hands were still holding your legs apart though, stroking them as well. And surely able to feel whenever they finally started to have that involuntary tremor. He even paused when you did. Letting you ride those little orgasms to their completion instead of over stimulating you to interrupt them.

But even then you were mostly quiet. Little sighs and mewls all that he could force out of you as your mind still churned. Why was he doing this?

He wanted something. You just didn’t know what.

And as time did pass, you realized that even though you were still awake, things started to feel more dulled. You knew what he was doing with his mouth, and you knew how good it felt. But it still seemed so distant after a while.

Further confusing to you as he did eventually stand so much later and you finally heard him say something again. His voice sounded far more even now. “How do you feel? You’re so wet…and I can’t wait much longer. But we’ll still start off with something smaller. Only for you…this is for you.”

And you didn’t understand at all what he was doing as he left you briefly to dig in the drawer of one of his end tables. Though you did at last make the realization of why everything seemed so muted and numbed.

It was the pain killers. They were whatever strength Doflamingo had wanted to be given to you weren’t they? And he’d been so pushy about you taking them. This was the result. This is what he’d been stalling for, wasn’t it? He’d wanted to make sure they had time to work.

To leave you sluggish and unable to fully feel as he repositioned you now. He’d moved you up the bed. You still lying on your back, and him now opening your legs again as you realized he had something in his hand.

“It’s just a toy. Relax.” He said. Almost softly really as you watched that lube slicked dildo get lowered towards your wet core.

But he passed it. He went lower as you felt that tip press your exit instead.

Of course he immediately saw that look of fear on your face.

And he was trying so hard to hold back a smile. “Finally making more sense now? Why do you think I haven’t done this to you before? You’re just small, lover…compared to me at least. I knew I’d need enough time…enough toys to begin this process. Even some extra meds to keep you from beating me black and blue when it really starts. Isn’t that right?”

And you still gasped as he slid that toy gradually inside of you. Your rectum stretching slowly in a sensation you’d never experienced before.

And he was so very hard between his own legs as he watched your every change in expression while that dildo forged further and further upward.

“Doffy…” You found you could still speak then, and he heard that bit of panic already in your tone as his other hand reached out to stroke your hair.

“No, it’s pointless to do that.” He was chiding your anxiety. “It always seems like it won’t fit until it does. I’ll fill you so well, woman…”

He really had waited then. He’d planned this. And should you have ever been surprised? Of course he would see every part of your body as belonging to him.

But could you even tell him?

You had to. Even with the amount of prep he seemed to already be taking, you were still so afraid. And with good reason.

“But I…” You tried again, your thigh actually quivering a little again as he started to thrust that dildo gently in test.

It did feel similar, but not. It was still so different than anything that you’d had done to you before.

He just thought you were intimidated by his size. And of course you were. He’d already torn you in the front more than once through his own carelessness.

But this was more than that though. Even as you made another gasping sound as he began pumping that dildo in and out your hole even harder.

It was still so uncomfortable. But you were determined to speak as you finally got those words out. “I’ve…never done this.” You breathed, feeling the mess of that lube already slipping back out of you with the wet sound the toy was now making.

But of course that sound paused as soon as he actually processed your words and his hand stopped moving the toy.

And you saw that bit of disbelief enter Doflamingo’s eyes. But soon enough, so embarrassingly soon enough, also the excitement which replaced it.

“You’ve never let anyone…no. Oh. Oh, fuck, woman.” And his grin was back. Ear to ear in fact as you watched the full realization spread through his twisted mind. And yet he still looked to you as if he had to assure himself more than once that this was possibly real. “You’re telling the truth…aren’t you? Oh, goddamn.”

This was evidently amazing news for him once he did finally accept it.

“So Kuzan beat me to the front…and yet no one has ever claimed the back?” He reiterated. “How careless…cruel even. Lover, it’s the whole body or nothing. Why would anyone only want part of you?”

You just hadn’t been ready for that back then of course. And it never came back up. Neither Kuzan or Smoker had had any interest in pushing you out of your comfort zone. They took whatever you were willing to give and that was the end of it.

While Doflamingo took everything that you had. Not just what you would give him.

And he’d clearly been eager before, but now this was his absolute mission. He was ecstatic. “Alright. Time for the next size up then…” He somewhat purred, discarding the used toy before briefly leaving the bed to grab and lube another one.

Again you did feel that anxiety of course, seeing the new dildo’s even larger girth as he returned and lowered it to your hole just like the previous one.

“No, don’t tense. You were doing so good before. Let it in.” He instructed, even as he started to push the toy past the muscles of that lower entrance regardless.

And you did make a sound of fresh discomfort, eliciting a chuckle from him. “Well you’re doing it to yourself. Fucking relax. Save all that squeezing for me, woman.”

“I…can’t.” You gasped as soon as he began thrusting this toy as well. The hole stretching around it even further, and that ever increasing inward pressure feeling so wholly bizarre.

“You can.” He said so decisively though, but his thumb found your clit for that additional assurance as he began rubbing it in tandem with the thrusts of the toy.

And the quiet moan that escaped you then only had him looking that more self-assured. “You see? It’s all connected. Your body knows what it wants. You want to be filled to the brim in every way, don’t you? And nobody does it better than me.”

His arrogance was endless. And yet, even as helpless as you felt beneath him, you knew it could be so much worse. But the more he talked, the more you feared it soon would be.

His restraint was fading as his anticipation grew.

This was evident in the way his tongue was curling upward as it slid from his mouth then. That darker glint forming in his eyes as he watched you further stretching around the toy.

He watched as he began to fuck you harder and harder with it.

He was going to take you soon regardless. But if he fully lost his composure, you knew he would drop all this pretense in an instant. He would savage you whenever his lust overcame him.

For this reason, you tried to suppress more of those moans that did actually want to come from you. Especially as he still worked your swollen clit alongside all that foreign pressure.

But he saw the arousal in your face. He knew.

“I think you’re as ready as you’re going to be…aren’t you, my queen?” And his voice was so low then. He let go of your clit to begin stroking himself now. He was smiling, tongue almost nervous in the way he licked his own lips.

And the fear was still rising within you. Even with the drugs numbing effect as you felt the briefest relief from that toy being removed. Your stupid body thinking it had survived. As if there would be any real time to recover as he had the lube bottle already in his hand again.

He anointed that clear liquid over his flushed cock, from tip to base. He’d been hard for so long by now. His massive erection that was still so much larger than any toy he’d yet used. It now throbbed only for you.

“Remember what I confessed to you, my queen.” And he was starting to growl as he angled himself against your little hole. “This is my love for you…this is what love is.”

And strings had jerked your hands up above your head just before that penetration. They were was so tight against your skin, your wrists stinging as even more followed. The glimmering wires around your legs as well to hold them permanently open.

He would take no chances of you fighting back this time. Even with the foreplay, even with the painkillers, and even with the toys to help prime you…he must still know how very much this was going to hurt you.

But his needs would always stand above your own.

So he did it. He did it even as his hand covered your mouth and your resulting scream from penetration became muffled against his skin as he forced himself all the way inside.

Your hips were flush together this time. Farther than your cunt could have ever taken him. No cervix in his way, nothing in his way at all as his own immediate moan bled into what was left of your scream.

“Goddamn…oh, woman. Do you understand…this is…it’s heaven.” He shuddered as you tightened further around him, uneven breaths heaving through his chest as his then half lidded eyes met yours.

There were tears in your eyes again, his hand still so tight over your mouth. His fingertips pressing sharply into the sides of your face.

“Don’t do that…” His words were still coming in moans as he began to thrust right through that stinging you recognized as your body already tearing. “Don’t cry…” He was panting.

“I love you…I do.” He breathed. His hips were just moving harder and harder. “I know it…because only love hurts us this way. Doesn’t it?”

And you tried to close your eyes, trying to catch your breath when you couldn’t get enough air through your nose alone.

But as soon as you’d done that his voice changed so quickly again.

“Look at me!” He snapped

And as he kept thrusting over and over, those first beads of sweat were starting on his tan skin while you did as he commanded.

When your frightened eyes met his stare though, he only bared his teeth as well, soaking in your attention. It was a smile and yet it wasn’t. You didn’t even know what that expression was. “Will you…” He stammered as his hips pounded you relentlessly. “Will you ever…” He tried again and the words were lost between his own desperate gasps.

And he bit his own bottom lip suddenly before those unfinished words could come again. As if in pure frustration for not being able to articulate what he wanted. As if punishing his own mouth to your further shock. Blood began to run down from that self inflicted wound. It dripped from his chin as he began to laugh uncontrollably.

The sound of Doflamingo’s laughter echoed in the large bed chamber, alongside those wet, vulgar sounds of violent sex.

And when the laugh did finally fade again, you felt those drops of blood now falling from his broken lip onto you as he leaned down further.

He was looming over you then. His broad chest fully sheened with sweat. And his cock still splitting you inside as he licked the fresh blood from his lips.

He tried again to speak. And this time he succeeded.

“Tell me, woman…tell me you’ll love me back someday. It doesn’t matter if it’s true…I haven’t heard it since I was a child. I just want to remember what it sounds like…I want to hear it.”

And his hand slipped off of your mouth then, loosely grasping your throat instead. His bloody smile waiting, leering.

“Doffy…” You gasped, trying to reclaim some of your breath. The pressure still unbelievable within you, even with the drug’s strong effects.

He was so incredibly broken. And he was breaking you too. Like nothing you had ever seen before. You didn’t know how to escape this cycle, even as you still cried.

“Let me hold you first…” You begged, your arms fully numb above your head in those strings by now. “Please…”

And you saw his hesitation. Even in the throws of lust and need. “…you’ll strike me.” He said so immediately.

“I won’t.” You whimpered. You couldn’t take this any longer.

And even in his current wildness, he looked stressed at the idea. His eyes never left you, his thrusting did begin to slow.

Yet, something tilted the scale eventually. Likely only his own desire to be touched by you in turn as he abruptly moved his fingers. Your arms and legs hit limp against the bed as the strings finally released.

“Thank you…” You could even breathe better then, without your arms strung so tightly above your head.

And your word was something you did always do your best to keep. Even as you saw the concern still in his eyes as you moved your arms again.

He had tensed. His haki at the ready this time no doubt.

But of course you didn’t trick him. The only habitual manipulator here was the man above you as your palms cupped either side of his lean face instead.

He was still beautiful, even when he was hurting you. With that new fear in his eyes, that blood still seeping from his mouth. He didn’t know at all what you were going to say to him.

And it didn’t matter. Even if heaven and hell would have come together to laugh at you now. You still wanted him to hear the truth. Because didn’t everyone deserve to, if even once?

And you knew it was true. It must be. The only reason you weren’t doing everything in your power to fight back. The reason you kept letting him use you this way.

“I’m…I am already falling in love with you, Doflamingo.”

You saw him swallow. There was no smile, no laugh then. Just an utterly lost look on his face.

But he turned his head further against one of your hands, confusion the next emotion on his face. While his blind eye closed and he kissed your hand so softly. “…will you tell me then…will you tell me when I’ve earned it all the way…”

“I will.” You heard yourself say. Those tear stains still on your face. The blood on his.

He shivered. And his hips began moving again.

He did close both of his eyes now. Fully trusting you then. No longer afraid as he gave in to the feeling of your body alone. That pressure of being buried into you all the way to the hilt as he began rubbing your clit all over again to take you over that final edge with him.

It wasn’t much longer until you both had been moaning for that pleasure within the pain, and Doflamingo came so hard inside of you with a last shuddering gasp, almost a cry from him as his eyes remained tightly shut. His face still held within your protective hands.

He was panting, sweating and still shaking as his eyes gradually opened to meet your own tired ones below him again.

“You’re…you’re the one.” He told you so surely as he swallowed again. “The one I’ve been waiting for.”

———————————

T⨂ BE

CONTINUED

———————————

Thanks for reading!

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116 notes · View notes

cocoagenie · 1 year

Text

𝙄ñ𝙖𝙠𝙞 𝙂𝙤𝙙𝙤𝙮 𝙭 𝘽𝙡𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙛𝙚𝙢 | 𝙃𝙀𝘼𝘿𝘾𝘼𝙉𝙊𝙉 <3

[P💕: i crave him]

[Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more !]

Shenanigans

☆ Iñaki can definitely be troublesome if he's bored. I'm talking face/body paint cosplays, hiding your things, pranking you with his perfect acting skills type of trouble

• its truly hilarious and a bit concerning to catch him with his whole face green and a dinosaur stuffed hat clipped around his head

☆ "ki.." he has his back to you and stares at the walls like there much more important

• will scream over games in his phone, for instance if iñaki runs out of time and fails a challenge you can here him crying out from the bathroom

☆ he suggests the craziest things on tiktok and you are a sucker for a good time despite you both hating to clean up behind yourselves. You have an eighteen minute long video of you both slipping on the soapy kitchen floor btw ;p

• iñaki often walks around your apartment a bit weirdly so he's bound to stub a toe or bump his shoulder into the edge of the wall, always cursing in Spanish which makes you burst into laughter

☆ you both truly are unfiltered around eachother and hes feels so lucky that he got two for one, (you're not only his best friend but your his girlfriend too.) Iñaki thinks that's epic

• skating time is sublime.

• "you– geezer, just hold onto me?" You laughed as Iñaki rolled around the skating ring like an elder on life support, he obliged but that cost you with the way he gripped your hands.

☆ "Damn, kiki!"

• "Slow down!!" He wobbled.

☆ "We not going no damn where!"

• on the court he will demolish you. Iñaki's always in your face, running around you as he dribbles the ball and shoots, it hits the rim sometimes

☆ "you're ass.." you kick some pebbles as he jogs for his rebound and runs back to you with a grin. Sweat beading at his forehead and wetting the roots of his curls.

• "oh? well then you make the hoop" you both are nearly the same height but he's still slightly taller. (He looks scrumptious in loose tanktops fyi) The basketball is pushed to you as you roll your eyes and take it. Iñaki situates beside you and watches you move forward but hands on your hips pull you back.

☆ "Do it from here." You got ready to argue but just huffed and dribbled the ball once to make sure it was hard enough and not flat. Your dominant arm bended and launched the ball for the edge of the square. It rolled around the rim but fell off and Iñaki suppressed a laugh.

• he talks so fast in English and Spanish that you often tell him to slow down. He laughs at that because he's still getting used to someone truly listening instead of talking over him

☆ iñaki flexes his facial hair and that often gains your attention so he ends up getting his mustache and sideburns cleaned up while you're on his lap

• "please amor, don't cut it too much."

☆ "shh shh, look?" You raised the mirror and when he saw the results iñaki felt ten times more flashier and he thanked you with a big kiss of course

• bro looses his marbles when he can't find his glasses and you love to watch him suffer as he looks everywhere while their RIGHT ONTOP OF HIS HEAD.

The sweet things

☆ he needs to have you by his side but doesn't like to really admit it so when you're doing something or simply lounging around he'll come to you like puppy and lean on you, or play with/link your hands

• iñaki bites and asks before hand too lol

☆ teaches you his first language and loves how you have your way of pronouncing certain words, he also praises you and says you sound like a natural after correctly saying a sentence

• love love lovesss your cheek kisses since your lips are already plump and soft. Fall is here and it tends to get chilly so iñaki jokingly asks you to prescribe him with some so he doesn't freeze to death

☆ let's you play in his hair especially when it grows out, you put it in ponytails, side cornrows and twists until he's snoring against you

• iñaki doesn't have a foot fetish but will massages your feet when their sore. He's the best at it, courtesy of the practice with his mother

☆ since you love vinyls and CD's he brings you shopping with him at special stores that sell hand me downs, movie cds or song records

• you both enjoy a good thrifting spree!

☆ picnic dates are sweet but getting something to eat downtown and exploring the lower city makes you feel like jasmine and iñaki is obviously your aladdin <3

• "should we jay walk?" You look at the currently empty street as iñaki's hand is gripped in yours, his eyes keep flickering down both ends of the street before he suddenly tugs you across with him

☆ "Vamanos, vamanos!" You snort and run across as you both eventually make it to the car.

• he often asks you why you fell in love with him and you're always ready to provide an answer.

☆ "You have this weird charm that I'm drawn to.. plus you were kinda mysterious with the way you used to sta-"

• "okay okay I get it!"

☆ "Nah you used to stare into my soul remember?"

• Iñaki felt incredibly shy around you, he still does now that you're both together he just knows how to hide it now ;)

☆ matching charm bracelets and rings. 😭

• he's the pure embodiment of "just happy to be there!"

☆ will always polish the hand you can't do

THE END ♡

[A/N: I AM SATISFIED.]

#iñaki godoy #iñaki godoy x black fem #iñaki godoy x fem #iñaki headcanons #monkey d. luffy #juan ruiz #one piece live action x reader #opla luffy x fem #opla luffy x black fem #juan ruiz fic #juan ruiz the imperfects #juan ruiz x black fem #juan ruiz x fem #KIKIIII

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arthenaa · 1 year

Text

commissionned by @localravenclaw !

nsfw content !! (read at your own risk)

seb x fem!reader (you are married in this one <3)

Sebastian had always been observant when it came to you. Ever since your friendship with him and eventually getting married to your very own best friend for about 6 years now, he was always casually observing you and your body language. You never had to say anything for him to do things for you. Endearing and a habit of his made your poor little heart fall for him even more.

He had hair ties tucked within his pocket, an extra handkerchief in case you forgot yours, and a hand to assist the trail of your dress whenever it seems to be positioned to be a hindrance in your steps. Ominis often teased you both; How Sebastian always seems to project you to perfection by always sticking close and assisting you in whatever you need.

Sebastian only laughed and proudly acknowledged for being too ‘whipped’ for his wife. You felt warmth bloom into your chest.

This goes without saying that Sebastian was a marvel in your bad days. All it took was a look and he was already on his feet and pulling you into his arms. You wonder what kind of endangered world you saved from your past life for you to be gifted with such a person so in tune with your whole mind and body.

You honestly felt like he was way out of your league but his praises of your beauty, skills, and talents washed away those lingering thoughts of self-doubt. You were his and he was yours and he loved being the reason for your smiles and laughter in all the days that he woke up beside you.

In short, the man absolutely loved taking care of you. Physically, mentally and in more ways than one.

It’s been hours and you don’t know how long you can endure him. Naked physique laying listless on the bed from the number of orgasms, you stare hazily at the man above you whose eyes seem to overflow with love and desire. It was a cold Saturday night and the fire from the hearth seemed to only add on to the heat shared between your bodies.

“Still there, pretty girl?” He asks with a soft voice. He gently caresses your face. Your body responds to his touch as you lean your cheek against the palm of his hand. Today had been a stressful day. Sebastian knew the moment you stepped inside the humble abode of your home that you needed him and so he went.

You clung like a child in need of affection. Gripping his arms like you haven’t seen him in months. Sebastian only cradles you close as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear.

“I’ll take care of you.” His promise lingers into the air and within a few hours, he kept his word. You were distracted and engulfed in the essence of Sebastian Sallow. A presence you warmly welcomed anytime.

He hears your whines of need despite being riddled with oversensitivity. He smiles down fondly at you, the muscles in his arms flexing as he leans down to pull you into another kiss. His cock is still inside you albeit softened from his previous orgasm. You feel his release leak out as he slowly grinds against you, further extending each other’s pleasure.

“You did so good, little dove.” He whispers against your lips with a smile. You only looked up with half-lidded eyes, distracted by the moving length inside you. He feels your body flinch and hears a squeak of a moan escape your lips as he hits an overstimulated spot within your walls.

“S-Seb– S’too much,” You whine as your fingers claw at his arms. You seem to be in a daze as Sebastian pulls away to assess the state of your being. You were still clearly in your subspace, judging from how you pulled him closer, the incoherent babbling of words, and the dazed look on your face.

Your husband knew better than to allow another round to start. With a strong arm wrapping under the small of your back and gripping the side of your waist, he hoists you up from the bed and into his lap. The motion causes you to moan loudly as his length pushes deeper into you.

The brunette smiles as you let out soft whines, arms wrapping around his neck as you pepper gentle kisses all over his cheek, neck, and jaw. He feels your hips grinding against his length, stimulating it enough to incite pleasure but not enough to result in another throe of passion. He allows it for now.

“Baby,” He mumbles, hands moving up to move your hair from your face. He cups your cheeks with one hand, chuckling as a pout forms with how your cheeks squished up within his grasp. He drops a wet kiss against your swollen red lips. You moan in response as you grip his wrist softly. “We need to get you cleaned up.”

His hands move down to settle on your hips, stilling you on his lap as he prevents you from moving. Your head plops down on his chest, arms encircling his lean waist. Sebastian could almost coo at how adorable you were. With a hoist of his arms, his length slips from your pussy as he stands up from the bed. You whine at the loss of his length filling you up and within seconds, you feel his release leak down from your entrance.

He walks with purpose, one arm holding you up and close against him while the other grabs at your essentials needed for a bath. You dazed off into his shoulder as you let him do whatever he needed to do. You suppose the amount of physical training he endured to become an Auror, eventually paid off judging from how he effortlessly carried you in his arms. The results definitely showed from his leaner physique.

You feel yourself getting lowered into the bathtub and warm water engulfs you in an instant. It was enough to keep you distracted from Sebastian’s missing presence but the addition of another body within the confined space allows you to sigh in relief. He pulls you close with an arm around your waist as he begins to clean you with gentle movements.

His fingers delve into sore spots– thumb rubbing the skin in concise movements as you allow the massage to ease the tension in your body. The sweat and ick from earlier activities eventually disappeared from your body as the water’s warmth washed them away. You feel sleep eventually knocking on your bones.

“So fucking adorable,” Sebastian mutters to himself as he grips your chin in his hand, your head resting back on his shoulder. He chuckles, placing chaste kisses on your lips. You eventually had to gently push him away as it had pulled you from your short slumber.

“Sebastian,” You call out to your husband as he carries you once again in his arms, gently putting you down on the floor as he pats you dry with a towel. You steady yourself with a hand on his shoulder as he wipes your legs and thighs.

“Yes, my love?” He replies offhandedly as he makes sure to dry you up before moving up to your hair. He stops to stare at your face riddled with sleep before grinning widely as he pulls you again to place a firm kiss on your lips. You whine at the abrupt gesture.

“S-stop– Mmph!” You’re unable to deflect his onslaught attack of kisses. He seems to enjoy the annoyed look on your face before pulling away as you stumble in his grasp. He watches with amusement as you blink sleepily, eyebrows furrowed before pouting.

“I’m sorry, darling. You were too adorable not to kiss.” He cooed, placing a peck on your pouted lips before inhaling your scent from the safety of the crook of your neck.

“Annoying.” You mumble, eyes drooping. The brunette laughs at your remark before he continues to dry you off. He then dries himself before grabbing a fresh set of clothes. He dresses you first with a shirt, too large for your form (obviously his). He assists in putting it on before dressing himself.

He then grabs your hairbrush and carefully combs your hair, gently pulling the strands with the bristles of your brush. There was something in the domesticity of the sight in front of you reflected by the mirror that stirs a range of emotions in your heart. The day started off bad and ended wonderfully with the care of your husband. You can’t help but smile as your eyes meet one another in the mirror.

He grins cheekily before pecking your cheek. You love this man.

He casts a wind spell to dry both of your hair before the man carries you once more to your bedroom. Sebastian stops in his steps as he looks at the bed, his nose scrunching at the mess. He kisses your forehead as he places you down to sit on one of the chairs near the fireplace.

“I’ll just fix the bed, darling. A fresh pair of lines are needed, I’m afraid.” He quips as he notices your apprehensiveness in letting him leave your side. Eventually, you allow him to rearrange the bed. You watch with calm interest as he pulls off the bed sheets stained with fluids you were far too sleepy to remember. Your eyes follow his precise movements as he grabs another set of fresh sheets from the cabinet. Love overflows your chest at the sight of your husband who seemed hellbent on not allowing you to move a single muscle.

“Like the view?” He pulls you from your reverie as he wiggles his eyebrows in the midst of pulling the sheet under the last corner of the mattress. You roll your eyes at him as he seemed to be in a jolly mood despite cumming at least 3 times inside you. The man had incredible stamina.

“Just do your work, Mr. Sallow.” You croak in an attempt to tease him back. A cough escapes your throat as the exhaustion and sleepiness had taken a toll on your body. Sebastian notices, of course, and with a wave of his wand, a pitcher of water levitates from the table in front of you and pours a glass of water. You accept the drink as it floats toward you. You give him a look of appreciation as he seemed to only smile in return.

By the time you’re done drinking, the bed had already been made and your husband is already walking towards you. You glance up at him as he leans down to place his hands on the armrest on both sides.

“Ready to rest, my wife?” He mutters, faces close to yours. You hum in agreement, your arms encircling his neck as reaches down to pull you up into his arms. He carries you over and settles you down on the soft and warm feeling of fresh linen. You immediately feel the gentle lull of sleep overcoming your senses.

The sounds seem to tune out as your eyes gaze over your husband’s very being. He moves with gentle motions, his rough callous hands hardened from battles that feel so different against your skin. Your eyes move up to his face, admiring the constellation of freckles that you’re sure not only litter his soft cheeks but also the body of the man you’ve come to know and love.

Sebastian Sallow was a marvel and a blessing that you’re continuously grateful for. From the times he saved you from danger to that wandering hand of his, that seemed to always dust off any speck of dust from your figure or tuck any wandering hair from your styled locks.

Your heart overflows with love whenever your eyes meet the familiar pools of brown that always seem to light up at your very presence.

You love him, dearly.

And so you call out to him, hand reaching out in need of his presence. He’s busy tucking you comfortably underneath the blanket before noticing your flushed face contorted into a look of desperation and need. He smiles softly as he delves in your arms, pulling you close as he presses soft kisses against your temple.

“I’m here, my love. No need to fret.” He whispers in a calm voice. His weight gently pins you down against the bed while the two of you bask in the night’s silence.

“I love you.” You whisper against his ear, voice slightly breaking from the adoration you have for your husband. His grip around your frame grows tighter.

“The things you do to me, love. You should be sent to Azkaban.” He jests with a laugh before pressing another kiss to your cheek. You whine in response, arms pulling him close.

With how tight you’re clinging onto him, it’s a surprise that he was even able to pull himself slightly from your grasp. With only a few centimeters between each other’s faces, Sebastian tucks a stray curl framing your face back into the safety of your ear. He smiles with fondness emanating from the gentle glow of his turned lips. The backs of his fingers gently caress your cheeks as his eyes seem to trace over your features. You would normally be flustered by his blatant staring but you were far too distracted by his looks to even care.

“Hi.” He mumbles, teeth showing as he grins.

“Hi.” You respond softly as he leans close to rub his nose against yours. The two of you giggle at the gesture before he moves back once more to admire you.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, eyes locked onto yours as his hand caresses the side of your head. You hum in thought.

“Better.” You blink slowly as a smile graces your features. “Thank you, ma chérie.”

Sebastian nods in understanding before moving up to place a soft kiss on your forehead. He pulls away to sit up on the edge of the bed beside you.

“Merci, mon amour.” He responds smoothly to your endearment. A grin graces your lips as you watch him stand up from your side of the bed before walking over to his. With a raise of the blanket, he slides in beside you.

Within the speed of light, your body moves to cling to him. You couldn’t possibly sleep tonight without having your emotional support of a husband within your arms. He laughs at your adorable nature, pulling you close as your bodies fit one another like a glove. You tuck your head against the crook of his neck while his chin gently taps the top of your head.

You hear the gentle wisp of the wind outside and the crackle of the fire from your fireplace. You feel the rhythmic tapping of his fingers against the small of your back and his breath brushing the strands of your hair on top of your head. You feel his warmth encompassing yours and the rise and fall of his chest.. The blanket on top barely does any work in keeping you warm and yet you feel perfectly fine and warmed up in his arms.

Every night, you feel and see everything about Sebastian Sallow. His addicting scent of wood and musk, the feeling of his callous fingers against yours, and the deep baritone of his voice. Your mind always seems to make its home into the thoughts and memories of the brunette beside you. It seems as if your mind had already marked him as your safe haven.

You desire to be a part of his very being. To be intertwined in his fate here and thereafter. Longing to continuously be the foremost thought in his mind. You know that this might be selfish of you but you know that Sebastian’s the same way about you as you are to him.

The man worships you. He praises the ground you walk on and sing at your very presence. Like a moth to a flame, he can’t help but fall into the pits of your darkness with you and somehow despite all that you’ve been through together, he follows you into the light as well. He'll follow you everywhere and vice versa.

A perfect pair. That’s what others often called you both. Normally, you’d brush off those comments but out of all the things said about you, this one you agree with the most.

You both crave each other at any time or minute of the day. Some may call it overbearing but being with Sebastian never bothered you. You both still respected each other’s time and space but overall, you were stuck to each other’s hip.

You faintly hear Imelda’s groans of disgust at the back of your head, claiming how you both couldn’t live a day away from each other and if you had spent one more hour with each other, she'd bet her broom you'd both merge into one person already. Natty opposes, claiming that it was adorable and that Imelda should just mind her own business. The former Slytherin didn’t take that quite nicely.

A giggle erupts from your lips at the thought which prompted a curious hum from your husband. “Preoccupied aren’t we?”

You shake your head, placing a peck on his neck. “Sorry, I just thought of something funny.”

He chuckles. “Is that so? Well, I hope it isn’t me.”

You decide to tease him as you stay silent in response. The man above you pinches your side at your teasing, causing you to squeak at the sudden infliction of pain. He laughs at your reaction before your palm slaps his arm in retaliation.

“That hurt!” You whine as your arm returns on his waist, hugging him close. A few giggles escape his lips.

“Aw, poor baby.” He mocks affectionately as he runs his fingers through your hair before placing a kiss on top of your head.

Silence lapses between the two of you before you hear his voice once more. " I wasn't able to say this earlier but there will be better days, my love. And with every bad day that comes your way, I'll be here to make it better."

You fall silent then your head moves away from the crook of his neck. Suddenly, you're met with warmth as he peers down at you with those brown pools of his. Your hand reaches out to cup his face and the familiar dimple appears on his cheek as a smile erupts from his face by your touch.

Gods, he was beautiful.

"Also, I love you too." He hums before leaning down to place his forehead against yours. Your eyes never leave him as you allow this moment to swallow you whole. His skin against yours, his breath brushing against your cheek and his eyes locked on you. You don't know how much you've repeated this in your head but you'd gladly do so for the man in front of you.

"I'm so fucking in love with you its not even funny." You mutter nonchalantly as you continue to caress his cheek with your thumb. Sebastian raises an eyebrow at your words.

"How … How is that even a funny situation?" A laugh slips from his lips that infects a smile on yours.

"I don't know. Imelda says your face is quite funny," You whisper in response, fingers running through his curls. "I agree… sometimes."

He gasps dramatically which prompts a giggle out of you. "Are you saying I have a laughable face? Your very own husband?"

He makes a point by grabbing your wrists and pulling them together to encase in one hand. "I'm sorry!"

"No take backs. Consider me offended and horrified." Sebastian dramatically replies before he delves down to shower you in kisses. Rather exaggerated actually. You squirm and squeal in his grasp as you try to avoid his affection.

"S-Seb!" You try to wiggle your wrist from his grasp. Curse his wicked strength for being able to easily manhandle you whenever he wants.

"I'll stop if you tell me I'm the most handsome face you ever saw in your whole entire life and that Imelda is just a bloody idiot who got hit too hard on the head by a bludger," He tilts his head in a teasing way, awaiting his request. "Also, a kiss."

"You can't have both, Sebastian." You retort, causing a pout to appear on his face.

"You're at my mercy, Mrs. Sallow. I suggest you fess up and give in, or else…" There's a warning tone evident in his voice which prompts a breathless laugh to erupt from your lips. You knew better than to fight against him in a situation like this. Last time you did, you ended up on the floor almost tickled to death.

"Please okay!— Y-You're the most handsome man I've ever seen and—" You lean your head to place a kiss on his lips. "There. Happy?"

He squints his eyes, humming suspiciously in thought. "You forgot the Imelda part."

"I'd get cursed if I said that. You know better than to say her name in vain." You place another kiss on his lips as compensation. It seems to have convinced your husband as he flopped on top of you.

"Alright. You gave me two kisses anyway." He mumbles on your chest like a child. There's a moment of reprieve before you feel hands wandering under your shirt. It creeps on your stomach before nestling on your ribs, close to the underside of your breasts.

"Seb." You whine as you feel his teasing touch. "Are you trying to even make me go to sleep?"

The man above you chortles before replying. "I can't help it. Your boobs are right in front of me."

You snort at his boyish thoughts before grabbing his wrist and moving it up to rest his palm on your naked chest. He hums in satisfaction as his palm moves in squeezing motions, reveling at the soft plush of skin within his hands.

"Is this your version of destressing?" You jokingly ask, voice laced with sleep. His fingers gently rub your nipple before gently squeezing the fat of flesh in his grasp. It pulls a sigh out of you.

"Yeah." He mumbles, distracted. Despite stimulating you once more, it feels oddly calming and even begins to lull you back into the warm void of slumber.

His free hand moves the hem of your shirt up, freeing one breast as his other hand continues to grope the other. Your eyes meet one another as he looks up for consent. Your hand moves up to entangle in his curls before you gently move his head to where you want it to be.

His mouth encloses your nipple, sucking the nub while he continues to provide gentle squeezes on your other. You let him suckle on your breast while your fingers twirl his curls.

"You're so pretty." He mumbles against your nipple as he gives it kitten licks before putting it back in his mouth. You let out a quiet moan before closing your eyes as you allow the stimulation to lull you back to sleep.

Sebastian notices your tired state, not stopping his gentle attacks on your breasts. Your hand seems to hold him still against your chest while he continues to suckle on your nipple like a babe.

"Sleep," He mumbles. Your eyes softly blink open. He pulls away and you shiver as the cold air hits your wet nipple. His other hand continues its mission with your other breast.

"Stay with me." You mutter, allowing one last look at him as he moves your shirt up to your clavicle. A handsome smirk graces his features as he moves back down to continue his ministrations.

"Don't worry, darling." He replies, blowing down on your hardened nubs. You shiver before a soft sigh escapes your lips. "I'll make sure you're well rested."

Then his lips wrap against your nipple once more, face tucked into your mounds. You watch as he busies himself with you as the stimulation further drags you down to the depths of deep slumber.

You watch as his face flushes and his eyes close whilst suckling on the soft flesh of your chest. As you make gentle motions on his curls, you heave a sigh of pleasure before slumber completely pulls you down under.

Sebastian feels your breath even out before pulling away from your swollen nipples and gently rearranging your shirt. The nubs peek out from the thin material and he makes a move to press a kiss on the protruding nipples.

He moves up to brush any stray hair that fell from your face before placing one last kiss on your forehead. He smiles fondly. "Sleep well, my love."

And just as before, he pulls you in his arms and engulfs you in the familiar warmth you've come to know and love.

The gentle crackling of the fire, the sounds of the night outside your window and the sound of breaths evening out from sleep was all that could be heard in the room.

Everything was just perfect.

husband seb aftercare was something i didnt know i needed tysm for commissioning ari 🥺🫶

#arthenaa #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy x reader #sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts legacy smut #sebastian sallow smut

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scekrex · 6 months

Note

hey, hear me out, Adam with a reader with lots of tattoos, like, the WHOLE body, and Adam finds the reader really badass and try to do a tattoo too but he totally regrets it afterwards

Okay so reader's not only tattooed but also a self-taught tattoo artist bc I said so °^° I hope ya like Adam's breakdown over a shitty tattoo <3

He can fix it

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

Adam adored every single drop of ink that had been poked underneath your skin, even if he didn’t understand certain design choices, he loved your tattoos, thought they made you look badass.

And then one day you had gotten home from yet another appointment, heaven had two, maybe three tattoo studios and the only one near you was fucking shitty so getting a tattoo always went hand in hand with being gone for at least three days - yet it was always worth the travel because at least they did a good job. There was one little studio close to you, the artists weren’t nice, their work wasn’t good and every damn day you wondered how they managed to pay rent because there was simply no way people were actually getting tattooed there. But on the other hand it really wasn’t your place to judge because you had started just as shitty when you had started to learn the skill of tattooing. You hadn’t tattooed others though, only ever practiced on fake skin or your own body.

So when you got home from your latest appointment and proudly showed Adam your newest tattoo, the first man was quite surprised that it was related to him. You proudly flexed your forearm as you showed him the artwork of the battle ax version of his guitar that would now forever be on your skin. “You’re absolutely fucking insane, babes,” he wispered as his hand grabbed your wrist in order to pull your arm closer to his face to see the artwork up close. It was a super detailed image that left Adam breathless, he loved it so much. “This is fucking on point, and the blood sinner dripping from it? Holy fuck man.” You shot him a teasing grin as you pulled your arm back to grab the first man by his collar and pull him in, “So, when do ya get my weapon tattooed?” It wasn’t meant as an honest question, you knew Adam adored tattoos on your skin but getting inked up himself? He wasn’t so sure about it. The pain he would be able to handle without any problems, that wasn’t his deal at all. It was more about the design. And to be fair? Getting your halberd tattooed sounded like a great fucking idea in his ears. So he offered you an equally teasing smirk as he tilted his chin upwards and confidently replied, “I’m gonna make an appointment right fucking now.” You curiously raised an eyebrow at Adam, he had been so quick to decide for something so permanent? It wasn’t that the first man was against inking up his own skin - far from it actually, he had told you so often that he wanted tattoos too, but whenever you had offered to design him one he had backed out. So this decision came quite surprisingly. "You sure? Y’know that ya don’t have to-” “Oh shut your fucking mouth, I fucking know okay? "BUT I wanna.” His voice didn’t sound as confident anymore and you seriously questioned the decision he had just made. But if he was so sure about it, you would let him have some fun. He had to know what he was doing, that really wasn’t your place to tell him no.

Adam had made an appointment at the tattoo studio near your apartment, you had told him that their work lacked skill but he had simply ignored it, had told you that it’ll be fine. He simply was too lazy to travel so fucking far for something as simple as a tattoo, and seriosly how bad could it be?

Well, very fucking bad.

Because when the brunette opened the door to your shared apartment and his eyes met yours, you knew they had fucked up. There was disappointment in his expression, guilt for not listening to you and discomfort for what they had done to his body. They had ruined it, the lines were wobbly, the coloring was so inaccurate and the details of the carvings had been completely ignored, for fucks sake, Adam was sure a toddler would’ve done better.

You got up from the couch immediately, “Show me,” there was no excitement in your voice and the first man knew you were aware of the situation. “Fuck no,” Adam pressed his left forearm thightly against his chest, ignoring the pain that shot through his arm at the firm contact. His wings pushed you back a little as he wrapped them around you in order to feel protected - he was in pure discomfort. Why did he think going to that studio had been a good idea? You had informed him that their work wasn’t good, you had warned him. And he had actively decided to ignore that warning and now he would never be able to wear fucking short sleeved tops again. That’s how much he hated what they did to him. “Ain’t no fucking way I let you see this shit.” You sighed and your eyes softened a little, providing some comfort - you weren’t mad at Adam, why should you? But you guessed the way you had demanded to see the clearly fucked up tattoo made it seem like you were. “Adam, the tone of your voice matched the kindness your eyes offered and you gently reached for his wrist, “Show me so I can make a plan to fix it.”

His eyes shifted from the fresh tattoo that was covered by the sleeve of his robe to you and with a sigh he sunk his wings and extended his arm in your direction so that you could have a look. “They let you leave with that piece of shit on your skin?” you complained and looked at the LED expression his mask offered. “I’m here and that shit is on my arm, so yeah, they fucking did.” You guided him into the bedroom, letting him sit down on the bed. Your hands reached for his mask and carefully pulled it off his head, exposing his face, his eyes were filled with anger, sadness and regret. “Put on a shirt and a pair of sweatpants, calm yourself down a little and come to me when you’re ready okay?” You placed a quick kiss on the tip of his nose, “I’ll set up my tattoo needle and I’ll fix that mess for ya. Take all the time you need for that.” You were about to pull back and give him some space as he grabbed your wrist tightly and looked at you with wide eyes, “You can fix it?” You playfully rolled your eyes and shrugged, “Fuck yeah I can fix it bae.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x male reader #male reader #adam x y/n #adam x reader #adam x you

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ransprang · 8 months

Text

thank you to @astarionbbg for your support <3 we hope you like your match up

if anyone else wants a match up this is our ko-fi

your match up is....

ASTARION!!!

SFW

How you met: You felt a light brush against your thigh as you were walking down the street. Boxing had honed your reflexes, so you quickly grabbed whatever it was which brushed against you. You found yourself holding hands with a pale haired elven man. “Oh dear, I really can explain,” Astarion drawled. Although annoyed, at being pickpocketed, you decided to hear him out. Astarion went on to complain about how he desperately needed nicer clothes, since his although fashionable were looking a bit worn out. He talked about how this never happened to him and that he usually was usually very skillful but everyone rolls a critical failure somtimes. You found his personality charming enough and understood the pain of not being able to dress how you wanted to. You decided to help him out and take him to a shop which you knew sold good clothing at lower prices. By the end of your little impromptu adventure, Astarion had already set his mind on seducing you.

Weightlift Astarion as much as you like, he loves it. He loves watching your muscles flex as you lift him up and off of his feet. It sure is an easy way to get his attention. You know those tiktoks where the gf and bf try different exercises using the other person? Like squats and hip thrusts. He’d be down to try, “Come darling, let’s have a bit of a competition shall we, hm? Just to pass the time?”

The SECOND y’all get to the city, Astarion would drag your cute ass to the Facemaker’s Boutique and get you both matching, tailored gothic fits. Because who said you can’t get rid of tadpoles in style? And of course, he pays for everything (with stolen money).

When you both are cuddling with your back against his naked chest, he runs his hand through your hair and lightly brushes against your ear piercings, admiring them.

Astarion’s secretly a big reader (he’s the only one in camp apart from Gale who owns a book). You both would start an intimate book club together, and enjoy each other’s cutting remarks about sub-par books as well as the rare appreciative comments.

Although Astarion prefers being protected than being super protective himself, once he recognises how precious you are to him he would be very protective of you. He doesn’t have many people in his lives who he cares for and who in turn care for him.

Astarion’s a pretty insecure fella, and would always be concerned about doing something wrong or driving you away. His heart is fragile and he has many issues about relationships. Your love language being affirmations, would help soothe his worries.

He would be supremely pleased if you ever asked to draw him and capture his likeness. He can never see himself in a mirror, but would be overjoyed to see himself reflected in your eyes and eternally captured in your art. He would heavily suggest you draw him in the nude.

Astarion would eventually ask to join your DnD group. Although not immediately understanding the appeal at first would warm up to it once he realised he could cause all kinds of havoc. He would strictly play as power-hungry elvish rogues.

Astarion, being assertive and passionate himself, is drawn to your energy. He admires your wit and sarcasm, and the banter between you two would be a form of playful courtship.

NSFW

Whether you are bulking or cutting, Astarion enjoys feeling up your muscles and softer parts. As a man who has been with people of all shapes and sizes, he would enjoy your body no matter what you look like. He cares about who you are on the inside, just as you love him for more than just his body.

Astarion enjoys getting you to sit on his face with your muscular thighs enveloping his face, he first licks his tongue up and down your labia. Then he parts your lips, sucking on your labia, and moving to your clit. Each flick of his tongue on your sensitive bud makes your thighs push closer onto the side of his face. He groans as he feels you squirm above him.

Watching you shadow box makes him horny. He’ll come up behind you as you finish a set of punches and snake his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. You gasp as you can feel his hard clothed cock push into your ass.

Astarion loves biting for obvious reasons. He will kiss, suck and bite on your skin. He loves it when you moan because of him.

Fashion? Astarion has the sexiest lingerie known to mankind. He satin cock warmers, and rubs it on his dick before taking them off, to get himself extra hard before fucking you.

Astarion likes to carry you and have sex with you against a wall, he’s strong and has toned muscles. When he wraps your legs around your waist you can feel them flex as he pumps you.

He really likes your angel fangs and when he kisses you he bites your lower lip softly with his fangs. Just to remind you who the real vampire is.

Astarion asks to drink your blood before sex sometimes, after drinking he penis begins throbbing and becomes extra sensitive. Just waiting to be buried in your soft warm pussy.

He uses his finger to take his precum and asks you to taste it. “I want you to know that I am delicious, darling.”

Astarion would always remind you that he loves you and he’s all yours as you are his, after sex. He can get a little poetic about it but it’s hard to pay attention to his words as his dick flops around has he makes his little speech of love.

your angel fangs,

admins sar, san & sav

#bg3 #astarion #bg3 astarion #baldur's gate #baldurs gate 3 #astarion smut #bg3 smut #astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion fic #baldurs gate astarion #astarion baldur's gate 3 #astarion romance #astarion x y/n #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion fluff #astarion fanfic #neil newbon

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donnabenevientosimpingzone · 7 months

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Could we get a little Beneviento sisters x reader fic please? A little treat

- simp anon

Ahaha I should change this blog to just Beneviento simping zone, I’ve made so many people love Bernadette and Claudia, and I’m so glad they’re getting so much love<3

How about a little dinner time with them?

Dinner time was always the highlight of the day. After a morning of waking up- watching all three of your girlfriends practically tripping over themselves to get to work and joining whichever you were scheduled to be with that day to the very end- coming home to that relief of spending time together as a family was always worth every bitter bead of sweat that rolled down your face. It also helped that cooking dinner together was a major love language for the Benevientos, and while you could never match up to their culinary mastery, you could help out.

This evening, though, you were standing aside while Donna attended to the stove and Claudia set the oven. Bernadette was expertly cutting sheets of pasta, and everyone seemed to be so in sync to the unspoken agreement that lasagna was for dinner. There seemed to be little room for you to lend a helping hand, however, that didn’t stop you from hovering around just in case.

“How was helping Bernadette in the garden today?” The question came from Donna’s lips as she passed by you, pausing just long enough to press her cheek into your shoulder like a cat marking her territory.

“Hot.” You replied without thinking, earning a loud snort from Claudia, reminding you of her gutter-mind. You roll your eyes despite the forming grin across your lips. “Temperature hot, Claudia.”

“Sure.” Claudia replies with a smirk after sticking out her tongue at you. She lets out a few snickers as you give her a wink, earning an audible sigh from the oldest sister. Bernadette shares a look with Donna as the youngest sister is cutting carrots to add to the vegetable stir-fry still in progress on the stove.

“They were wonderful help.” Bernadette states as she steps aside, letting Claudia take over layering the lasagna and putting it into the oven. Her hands find an abandoned hand towel, and the fingers hook on the fabric to wipe off whatever edible debris clung to their pores. “Got a little too distracted with the hose though.”

“To be fair, you were flexing.” You counter, earning a Cheshire smile from the oldest sister as she leans back on her elbows against the counter.

“I was using the wheelbarrow, dolcezza.”

A hot blush starts to form across your cheeks as the Italian rolls along Bernadette’s deep voice like melted metal in a mold. No matter how often the Benevientos spoke their mother tongue to you, it still had you rather frazzled hearing it every damn time.

“You didn’t drown the tulips, did you?” Donna’s voice breaks you out of it, and you frantically shake your head to deny the idea.

“No!” You chirp, your blush darkening now in embarrassment as the dollmaker quirks a brow at you. “I just- uh…”

“Lemme guess.” Claudia says, shutting the oven to emphasize her voice. “You made another pond in the middle of some random plot of dirt Bernadette was preparing to plant.”

Now your face is scolding, and you groan- hiding the hue in your hands- unable to escape the situation now. A round of endearing giggles go around the kitchen as the sisters coo at your adorable display, making it easy to accept your embarrassment and giggle, raising your head from the grasps of your fingers. It’s true that you weren’t as skilled as the sisters in their respective fields. Compared to them, you were decent at things, but knew a lot of skills- a bit of a jack-of-all-trades- but the trade-off was that you didn’t have astonishing knowledge in anything. Well, at least the things the Beneviento sisters were into.

Bernadette was the easiest to work with. You liked days with her a lot, even if it was going to be physically demanding. The oldest sister with her psychology background and job as a therapist meant that she almost always seemed to know what was spiraling in your head, with the patience of a thousand gods, and her choice words always made your chest burst with warmth and eyes explode with grateful tears. If the two of you weren’t labouring away in the gardens around the manor, you were venting your woes to each other somewhere in the forest.

Claudia was the next easiest to work with. She worked as the village doctor and was overflowing with altruism. She fortunately had the energy to match such a demanding job, and most of the time you were basically there to deliver supplies and check inventory, on rare occasions you would help with treatments. Due to the nature of her job, Claudia has a pretty no-bullshit attitude during work, which tends to give you whiplash compared to her silly personality at home. Just another quirky facet of her that you’ve fallen in love with over the years.

Unfortunately, as much as you simply adored spending time with Donna, you were pretty useless when it came to helping her make dolls. Much of the time you were there to parallel work together, or to keep Angie entertained. Nevertheless, the system you both figured out is one that you look forward to each time, and if things get done sooner… well-

“Hey.” Claudia’s voice snaps you out of your wandering thoughts, and you blink back to reality to see her waving a hand in your face. “Back to Earth, idiota.”

She snaps her fingers at you, throwing her arm in various directions as she does so, making you laugh.

“Okay, okay! Back to Earth, I’m back to Earth-” You reassure, raising your hands in surrender as Claudia chuckles, flicking your forehead.

“I’m surprised the gravity can hold down your air head.” Claudia jests, giving your cheek a quick peck before slinking away down the halls. You watch her go, rubbing the spot where her lips graced your skin with a dreamy smile, turning your attention back to the other two.

Donna had finished her dish and was helping Bernadette set the table. The dollmaker gestures for you to sit down and begin eating while the lasagna cooks in the oven, and you happily stride over to the chair. Bernadette takes a seat across from you, sipping her tea while Donna pours your cup.

“Thank you, beautiful.” You praise, raising a hand to cup the dollmaker’s cheek. She leans into the touch with a smile, almost purring as she soaked in your affection like a sponge. The moment doesn’t last long, as Donna pulls away quickly to pour tea for herself, but little moments like that feel so much longer. They replay in your head often. Gosh her smile really did things to your brain chemistry.

The three of you begin treating the vegetable dish and cups of tea while making small talk. It starts with a simple discussion on what the plans were for tomorrow, and derailed into various other topics that somehow managed to come up. Sometimes Bernadette and Donna would exchange words in Italian, bits and pieces you’d recognize, but not enough to piece together what they were talking about. One time, Donna said something that made Bernadette laugh, and you laughed at Donna’s shocked expression. You had said something to affectionately tease her, and Donna stopped chewing her food to stare daggers at you. It would have been scary, if one of her cheeks wasn’t swollen with food like a little chipmunk, making you laugh harder.

The moment is broken when there’s a sudden loud crash in the distance. All conversation comes to a screeching halt as the thud echoes vaguely in the large manor. A moment of silence passes before a loud “DONNNNNNNNNNNNNNA!!” howls across the estate in Claudia’s voice. On cue, Donna sets down her tea and stands up from her chair- the back of her knees pushing it back with a sound of wood scraping on wood- flattening her dress with a brisk few brushes of her hands.

“I’ll be excusing myself.” She says with a huge, shit-eating grin, walking away with a fast clop-clop of her heeled boots.

You and Bernadette share smiles as there’s the sound of approaching footsteps, only a moment later with Claudia bursting into the kitchen, torso soaked.

“Where’d she go?!” The middle child demands, moving wet strands of hair out of her eyes.

“She excused herself.” Bernadette states while taking a sip of her tea. You reaffirm the statement with a nod of your head. Claudia growls and stomps through the room in the direction Donna disappeared down, plotting her prank to get back at the youngest sister.

Once all was silent again, Bernadette took another sip of tea.

“You got plans tonight?” She pipes up towards you, and you shake your head in response. “Donna was asking me if she could have time with you tonight, before you go with Claudia tomorrow.”

“Hm? Oh sure, what for?” You inquire, shoving vegetables in your mouth. You had begun chewing them until Bernadette gave you a sultry smile, causing your mastication to slow until it stopped, paralyzed and unable to swallow.

Now you know what it was. Earlier Bernadette had taken you against a tree when the two of you were supposed to be trimming bushes, and earlier than that Claudia had to do the laundry in the morning after she woke you up with choice placement of her hands.

Right as you were thinking about the evening with Donna, the oven beeps, and Bernadette brightens out of her darkened gaze to an almost child-like grin.

“Be a dear and fetch the others for dinner.” She says, and you’ve finally found the strength to swallow, nodding as you stand up and head in the direction the other two did earlier. You also make a mental note to find Angie, who must still be napping after being continuously interrupted by a “busy” night.

#ask #resident evil village #resident evil #donna beneviento #claudia beneviento #bernadette beneviento #donna x reader #claudia x reader #bernadette x reader #fanfic

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skwhluvr · 1 year

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kim taerae as your boyfriend | headcanons

❀ paring: kim taerae x gn!reader

❀ warnings; pure fluff, i call him a loser bf, lowercase, kind of proof read. i think thats it ?!

❀ a/n : this is my first time posting 😓 bit scared. apologize for any grammatical errors. exams are around the corner and i do this instead of studying. lowkey a self insert?? but enjoy it !! 🤍++ was listening to double take by dhruv writing this. sets the mood well !

taerae your cutie pookie boyfriend ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

he’s a math major or something close to mathematics, something like engineering.

actually I see him do economics (maybe because i wanna do it)

minor in psychology just because I said so. because of his curiosity, though he might drop it later realizing it's not for him

bf!taerae will remember to bring you either a snack or coffee or a drink to help you get through your morning because let's be real most of arent really a morning person

he would be gamer bf too. so sometimes you might find yourself competing for his attention with a game. not to worry tho he would cuddle with you and give you unlimited amount of kisses!! :D

he would love to have study dates !! it doesn’t matter what you’re studying. he will make sure to at least have one date where you but just study.

gives him a chance to admire your focused look and snap some cute pictures, which he can look back and smile giggle at loser bf taerae all the way ☝️

I see him sending you good luck texts before exams. reminders on to eat or get enough sleep.

he would leave some kinda snack or nuts on your table while you study for your exams. because thats something your mom did for you all the time. #asiancoded

he would wait for you after your exam and give you a hug the moment you see him saying you did well. you do the same for him.

if your exams clash y’all meet up later on the day and discuss about how the exam went and do some kinda stress relieving activity like watching a movie or "attempt" (keyword attempt) bake something

on the last exam you have he would surely be waiting for you with some kinda sweet or drink that you love with a cute note saying you did well !

HE IS SO AFFECTIONATE YOU FEEL LIKE YOURE NEXT TO A PUPPY !!! <33 ALSO SOMETIMES HES SO ADORABLE YOU HIDE THE URGE TO EAT HIM ‼️🤍🤍

he would welcome you everyday like he hasn't seen you for ages (even if it's just been 10 mins).

i feel like his love language is quality time and act of service with with a sprinkle of physical touch !

when you're with his friends, he'll naturally have his arms around you. not in a possessive way, rather because its comfortable. his friends loved you and prefers you over him. dont tell him that tho

playful fights with junhyeon on who should get more affection. honestly youre a junrae in secret but taerae doesn't need to know that. youre so happy that he has someone he can be that close with !!

what else from zb1 i feel like you will be close with matt , ricky and gyuvin maybe gunwook too? the moment you see yujin you'll adopted him without a second thought you'd even fight the zb1 boy's for his custody.

guitar classes everyday ! it’s sometimes educational, other times he'll play your favorite songs for you. he just loves to flex his guitar skills.

you enjoy it as much because you see his cute smile, more bonding time and you also get to take cute picture of him or videos.

this is so domestic im feeling single.

he would send you a random cafe or restaurant he sees, suggesting to go there and try to it. later on both of you will rate the food, the service and the aesthetics and decide if it’s worth to go again.

he would have some thing you've given him or a remind of you in his car or wallet or phone so there is piece you with him always <\3

in conclusion i want a bf like taerae <\3

#zb1 #zerobaseone #zerobaseone taerae #zb1 x reader #zerobaseone x reader #zerobaseone headcanon #zb1 headcanon #kim taerae #taerae #taerae fluff #taerae x reader #kpop

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 2 years

Text

North To The Future [Chapter 5: Sabotage]

The year is 1999. You are just beginning your veterinary practice in Juneau, Alaska. Aegon is a mysterious, troubled newcomer to town. You kind of hate him. You are also kind of obsessed with him. Falling for him might legitimately ruin your life…but can you help it? Oh, and there’s a serial killer on the loose known only as the Ice Fisher.

A/N: With the completion of Chapter 5, we are officially 1/3 of the way done with this fic series! In my opinion, things start to get really interesting in Chapter 6 so I am sooooo excited to have reached this little milestone. Thank you so so so much for reading and for your enthusiasm, questions, rants, analyses, theories, memes, and general emotional investment in NTTF. I go back to re-read your comments/tags ALL the time and they help keep me motivated to get new chapters out asap. 🥰💜

Chapter warnings: Language, alcoholism, addiction, murder, veterinary medicine, discussions of sex, questionable decisions, Kimmie-related chaos, Trent flexing his athletic skills.

Word count: 5.6k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @elsolario @meadowofsinfulthoughts @ladylannisterxo @doingfondue @tclegane @quartzs-posts @liathelioness @aemcndtargaryen @thelittleswanao3 @burningcoffeetimetravel @b1gb3anz @hinata7346 @poohxlove @borikenlove @myspotofcraziness @travelingmypassion @graykageyama @skythighs @lauraneedstochill @darlingimafangirl @charenlie @thewew @eddies-bat-tattoos @minttea07

Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💜

It’s November 29th, the Monday after Thanksgiving. It’s also your lunch hour.

You yank open the glass front door of Caribou Crossings, the souvenir shop where Heather works. It’s mostly abandoned now that tourist season has ended, and the unloved relics stare at you with cold, oddly sentient eyes: the owls carved out of cedar wood, bears carved out of jade, Russian dolls, miniature totem poles, plushie salmons. You climb over the counter and sit on the floor behind the cash register, your back pressed to the wall and your arms linked around your knees. Heather is breaking open rolls of coins to restock the register, probably unnecessarily; you are the only two people in the store.

She asks, wrestling to get quarters out of a particularly stubborn wrapper: “How’s it going?”

“Not great.”

“Have you fucked British Kurt Cobain yet?”

“We’re not speaking.”

She puts down the roll of quarters and looks at you. “What happened?”

You shrug, trying to act casual, trying to not let your voice crack. You don’t think there’s any threat of tears; you’ve cried so much in the past four days that you seem to be out of them. Your eyes are perpetually pinkish, puffy, exhausted. Despite your herculean efforts to remain hydrated, you have a constant low-grade tension headache that throbs like a bruise, misery trapped beneath the skin like blue-violet blood. “It’s a long story. He came over for Thanksgiving dinner.”

“Okay.” Heather is perplexed. “And then he, what, drunkenly dropped the turkey on the floor? Tried to hook up with your mom? Offered to show you his collection of murder supplies?”

You smile wearily. “No. I told him that he had to get sober. And he freaked out, he was yelling, he was saying I don’t have any right to try to control him because he’s not mine and never will be. He said I was trying to use him to bail myself out of my spineless, unfulfilling life.”

She scoffs. “Well that’s not true.” Then she observes your face. “Is it…?”

You shrug again, feeling like you’re back in high school, petulant and powerless. “There are a lot of things I want to experience, a lot of places I want to go. But I haven’t done anything yet. Because I can’t tell my parents that I don’t want to stay in Juneau forever and run the vet clinic.”

This must shock Heather, but she doesn’t show it. “I can’t imagine that they would want you to stay if it made you unhappy.”

“No, they wouldn’t try to stop me. But it would break their hearts.”

There is a long, uneasy silence. At last, Heather says: “I think you should come to Ursa Minor tonight.”

“I don’t want to see Aegon.”

“I mean, Dale would probably kick him out if we asked.”

“No!” you shout, too quickly. If he doesn’t have his preferred place to drink his demons away, he might leave Juneau long before the six month deadline.

Heather raises an eyebrow. “Do you want to see him or do you not want to see him?”

You glower at the wall strewn with large, framed photographs of the Northern Lights. “I want him to apologize.”

“I have many talents, but I can’t make that happen for you,” she says. “Look, is it possible that Aegon will be at Ursa Minor? Yeah, totally. But other people are going to be there too. Me, and Joyce, and Kimmie, and Trent and all his dimwitted muscley friends…there are going to be people who care about you. There are going to be people who can help you through this. We can comfort you. We can distract you. We can curb stomp that Greek boy in the parking lot if he doesn’t behave himself. There are a lot of options.”

Lyrics from The Distance, unexpected and unwelcome, spin around in your mind like a vinyl record: She’s hoping in time that her memories will fade. “I’ll think about it.”

“Can I interest you in a complementary Juneau-themed trinket? Glacial mud mask? Moose nuggets? Birch syrup? A slightly sinister-looking stuffed salmon?”

“No. I’m good.”

Heather asks with a straight face: “Do you want me to kill him?”

You laugh, your first real laugh since Thanksgiving. “No, thank you very much, but no.”

“Seriously. I could make it look like the Ice Fisher did it. No one would ever know.”

You gaze up at her from where you sit on the floor. “I love you.”

“I know, bitch.” Heather grins. “Wear something slutty this time.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You’ve spent a lot of time in your bedroom since Thanksgiving; you don’t want your parents to see you upset. They know something, of course, but they don’t interrogate you. They don’t intrude. They probably assume that you’ve broken up with Aegon—not that we were ever dating to begin with, you think sullenly—and, furthermore, that this is a painful yet indisputably wise course of action. It is a productive sort of pain, a necessary pain; it is like the deep maroon ache of a healing bone. It hurts less now than it would if you had stayed with him, married him, had children with him, attempted to build a life with him like a sandcastle razed again and again at high tide. It hurts less than if you had let yourself fall in love with him.

Oh, but didn’t I?

Alaska was purchased from Russia in 1867, just two years after the American Civil War ended, and was soon widely regarded by the still-recovering nation as a hopelessly remote and burdensome error. This impression was reversed only by the discovery of gold and the subsequent mass migration of miners to the territory beginning in the 1890s. After the booming gold industry came fishing and logging and oil and military bases, but gold was Alaska’s first saving grace. This is what you are thinking as you pencil on your black eyeliner, dust your eyelids with sheer gold glitter, paint your lips a vivid, glossy crimson. You stare at your reflection in the bedroom mirror, surrounded by photographs of your family and your friends, high school and college and vet school. There’s one image that doesn’t quite belong. It’s a cutout from one of those infinite travel magazines, a Ford Mustang convertible soaring down the Pacific Coast Highway in Southern California. The man behind the wheel—tan, beaming, carefree—is wearing sunglasses and a neon green tank top. The convertible is bright red; it is nearly the same shade as your lips.

You slip into a dress you haven’t worn in years: black, short, off-the-shoulder sleeves. Ever-practical, you opt for black boots instead of heels. When you arrive at Ursa Minor, Heather is wearing a sequined hot pink tube top and white leather pants. Joyce is wearing—to Heather’s abject horror—overalls, a rainbow striped T-shirt, and a massive mustard yellow scarf that nearly swallows her into oblivion. By a pure and unfortunate coincidence, you and Aegon match. He is sitting at the bar in all black: black turtleneck sweater, black jeans, black combat boots, black sleepless shadows under both of his eyes, a black mood that sweats out of his pores like a fever. Randomly, you remember the gold chain necklace he was wearing on Thanksgiving. It didn’t look fake, and it didn’t look cheap. To your knowledge, it is the only thing of significant value that he owns. It is a peculiar luxury for him to possess.

So what? Maybe he stole it. Maybe he traded drugs for it. Maybe he got it off a corpse that he strangled and then sank into cold, silent darkness beneath an ice-covered lake.

But no, you don’t believe that. You never did, and you still don’t.

Heather slurps down her Sex On The Beach. “Is this your revenge dress? Are you invoking the spirit of Princess Diana in this fine establishment tonight?”

You gaze miserably at Aegon. He is peering down into the caramel-colored bubbles of his rum and Coke. The stereo is playing Shania Twain’s Whose Bed Have Your Boots Been Under? “He told me he’s an awful person. That’s the worst part. Like he told me over and over again exactly what to expect and I didn’t believe him, because I was just…just…I don’t know.” Infatuated. In love. Blind. Naïve. Hopeful. “Stupid, I guess.”

“I hate men.” Heather glances to the bar. “Except Dale, he’s okay.”

“The fictional ones aren’t all bad,” Joyce says, flipping a page in her newest fantasy novel. This one has a pirate on the front, his billowing white shirt mostly unbuttoned and his long hair flowing in the wind like a hero’s cape.

“I’ve had a horrendous fucking day,” you moan. “There’s the Aegon thing, there’s the I’m never going to get out of Alaska thing, there’s the I’m going to die alone thing, and then on top of all that, I had to euthanize Ms. Ruland’s cat right before we closed.”

“Sylvester Stallone?!” Heather cries. “Sylvester died? That black and white homicidal little maniac? With the super long whiskers? Jesus, that’s tragic. I’m sorry.”

“In all fairness, he was like a gazillion years old. He probably remembered when dinosaurs roamed America. But it was still awful. Ms. Ruland was a mess. I felt totally unprepared, totally useless. I’d practiced in vet school, of course, but I’d never euthanized an animal I knew before. It was horrible trying to comfort Ms. Ruland. It was horrible seeing someone walk into the clinic with someone they loved and then walk out alone.”

Heather and Joyce nod with sad, sympathetic eyes, wanting to help but not knowing what else to say. You gulp down your pineapple-flavored Bacardi Breezer. Aegon must have complained about the Shania Twain music; Dale switches out the CD and the opening notes of Sabotage by the Beastie Boys rockets out of the stereo.

Kimmie throws open the front door and blusters into Ursa Minor, shaking the snowflakes out of her hair and wearing a sleek, skin-tight, metallic silver dress and matching platform heels. She looks like a disco ball; she looks like a mirror. She canters to the bar like a racehorse and orders herself a Miller Lite. She says something to Aegon. He mumbles back, still peering into his rum and Coke. She tries again. He shrugs and downs the rest of his drink. He glances at you—almost glaring, almost sad—and then orders another rum and Coke.

“Oh no,” Heather mutters. “Oh no, oh no, Kimmie, no.”

The front door opens again, and Trent and his friends spill inside in a loud, riotous swarm. They order beers at the bar—Trent fist-bumping Aegon, several of the other guys descending upon Kimmie to make bungling attempts at seduction—and then they migrate over to the pool table like a honking, brainless flock of geese. Trent breaks off to make a pit stop at your booth.

“Hi,” he says, smiling as he sips his Heineken.

“Hi,” you reply. Heather and Joyce’s eyes dart between you and Trent.

He points to the spot beside you, which is presently vacant. “Do you mind if I hang out for a while?”

“I think you’ll regret it. I am currently extremely depressed and boring.”

To your surprise, Trent doesn’t act like a dumbass. His voice goes gentle. His face collapses into soft, attentive pity. “What’s there to be depressed about?”

Well, you see, I accidentally fell in love with your maybe-murderer alcoholic homeless friend and in a completely unforeseeable turn of events he ruined my life. “I had to euthanize a cat today.”

“Oh, that sucks,” Trent says. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s my job. I should get over it.”

“No, seriously, I’m sorry.” Trent tosses his hair off his forehead in his patented horse-like maneuver, and then his gaze comes back to you. “Your job is to help animals, so I get that not being able to fix one would be really tough. But I know you’re still great at your job. I know you did everything you could.”

You stare up at Trent. Heather stares up at Trent. Joyce, having completely forgotten about her fantasy novel (a rare occurrence), stares up at Trent. Trent swallows a mouthful of Heineken; stray beads of it drip down his full lips and stubbled chin.

I couldn’t fix the cat. I couldn’t fix Aegon. I can’t fix myself.

“You can hang out if you want to,” you tell Trent, scooting over to give him space. He grins and slides into the booth, tall and broad-shouldered and tossing his hair around again, looking like goddamn Seabiscuit. You steal a glimpse of the bar. Aegon’s jaw has fallen open; he’s gaping at you with scandalized disbelief, with something like horror. You move a little closer to Trent. And Aegon, at last, turns his attention to the dramatic, irritating, captivating Kimberly Barbieri.

“So, Trent,” Heather begins slowly, apprehensively, then picks up steam. Beside her, Joyce picks up her book. “How is the salmon genocide business going?”

As you half-listen to Trent talk about fishing, which somehow—as all topics seem to do with him—leads back to football and his high school glory days, you drink your Bacardi Breezer and watch Aegon with sharp, narrowed eyes. He has relocated to the barstool next to Kimmie. He appears to be asking her questions—tentative, stilted questions—and she replies with animated laughter and calculated little touches: her fingertips grazing his wrist, her palm briefly pressed to his shoulder. You hate the way Aegon talks with his hands, those gestures which had been becoming so familiar to you. They put an ache in your chest like a nest of barbed wire.

“Bro!” one of Trent’s friends is calling from the pool table. Others are waving encouragingly. “Bro, come play! Come play! Broooooo!”

“Looks like you’re being summoned,” Heather says.

“Oh, wow, I guess so.” Trent turns to you, nervous. “Do you…uh…would you…maybe…like to join me?”

“What, playing pool?”

“Yeah.”

You try to consider this in earnest; your mind is so tangled up in Kimmie and Aegon and everything that’s transpired over the past week that the words barely sound like English. Playing. Pool. With Trent. “I don’t think I know how.”

“I’ll teach you,” he offers, quite willingly.

“Okay, maybe. Give me a few minutes, I need another drink first.”

“Want me to grab a Bacardi Breezer for you?”

“Thanks, but I’ll do it. I haven’t decided which flavor I want next yet.”

“Cool,” Trent says. He slips out of the booth and gives you one final, mock-stern, smiling warning. “Remember, I’m going to teach you how to play. Meet me at the pool table. Don’t forget. Don’t disappear.”

“I’ll be there,” you promise. He departs. You say to Heather: “I probably won’t be there.”

“Why not?” Heather asks. “You’re hot. You’ll be even hotter when you’re bent over a pool table lining up your shots. The Greek boy is already sad, but I want to see him devastated.”

“I don’t think I have that power.”

Heather smirks and wiggles her slender eyebrows. “I disagree.”

Across Ursa Minor, Kimmie leaps off her barstool and leaves Aegon to guzzle his rum and Coke in peace. She approaches your booth sheepishly, like a dog that knows he’s chewed a considerable hole in his owner’s favorite La-Z-Boy recliner. “So,” Kimmie says to you, nervously kneading her glass bottle of Miller Lite. She’s so fucking cool, you think mournfully. Cool girls drink beer, cool girls are lighthearted and fun, cool girls don’t take guys too seriously, cool girls never ask about the future. “You and Aegon.”

You drink the last of your Bacardi Breezer moodily. “What about us?”

“You aren’t…like…together, are you?”

“No. No way. I’d rather date O.J. Simpson.”

“Well…” Heather begins, and you kick her under the table. Bitch! she mouths, rubbing her shin.

“Okay,” Kimmie sighs in relief, a smile breaking across her face. The Christmas lights reflect off her silver dress; she glows, she radiates. “Good. I was hoping he wasn’t off-limits, but I wanted to check with you first. You know, in accordance with Girl Code.”

“How courteous,” you note.

Kimmie marvels dreamily: “He looked so freaking good strumming that guitar.”

“Um, Kimmie…” Heather begins again. You glare at her ferociously. Heather pivots. “He’s probably the Ice Fisher, so you should keep your distance.”

Kimmie laughs. “Aegon? The Ice Fisher?! I don’t think so. You have to be sober to meticulously kidnap and murder people. Besides, from what I’ve heard he’s slept his way through like half the souvenir shop cashiers, and none of them ended up dead.”

You stare down at the table despondently. Heather, floundering, puts her fist through the figurative In Case Of Emergency Break Glass box. “He has syphilis.”

Kimmie gasps. “Really?!”

Heather deflates. “No. Well, actually, I don’t know. Maybe. It’s certainly possible. We should assume the worst.”

Kimmie, for once fully in on the joke, winks. “I’ll let you know once I’ve investigated.” She strolls back to the bar in her short mirrorball dress, shimmering and lithe like a snake’s skin.

“To be clear,” Heather tells you. “I was not in the half of the souvenir shop cashiers that Aegon boned.”

“Great. Thanks.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?! Why didn’t you tell her that…that…?!”

“That what?” you snap. “She asked if we’re together. We’re not. We never were. He made that crystal clear. And if he’s not going to get sober, I’m not going to get involved with someone like that.” Someone like Jesse. Someone like the man my mom still carries scars and bruises from, not in the flesh but in the soul.

“But…but…” Heather frowns at you with pained, condoling eyes. “You…you love him. Don’t you? You look like you love him. You look…and I mean this in the most compassionate way possible…you look fucking terrible. You look like someone died, and I’m not talking about Sylvester Stallone the geriatric cat. Joyce?”

Joyce gives you an evaluative glance. “Yeah, you look terrible.”

At the bar, Kimmie is leaning all over Aegon and giggling about a story he’s telling. His hands move in dramatic, expressive gestures. He is, for the first time tonight, smiling. There’s a jolt like knuckles jabbed beneath your ribs. There’s a profound, inky despair. Kimmie grabs Aegon’s hand—he has callouses on his fingertips, you think randomly—and leads him over to the pool table. As soon as they have vacated the area, Heather drags you to the bar.

“Dale?” she says. “My good bitch needs a Bacardi Breezer. Maybe two Bacardi Breezers. Maybe three. I think I’ll be driving her home tonight.” She turns to you. “What flavors do you want?”

“Apple,” you reply morosely.

“Okay, one apple, what about the rest?”

“All apple.”

“Goddamn, you really are fucked up about this. Dale, three apple Bacardi Breezers, please.”

He lines them up on the counter. Heather sits with you as you drink them one after the other, gradually feeling warm again, feeling a little lighter. When you peek back at the booth, Rob has appeared there and is discussing—politely this time—the plot of Joyce’s fantasy novel with her. She looks almost vaguely interested in his existence.

“Hey Dale,” Heather prompts. “What’s the secret to everlasting love?”

Dale chuckles huskily and runs a hand over his thick, wiry beard. “You’re asking the wrong person. My wife ran off with a cruise ship singer, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” Heather says apologetically. That was around six months ago, at the start of tourist season; the guy was an Elvis impersonator. “My bad.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m better off, I think. Now I don’t have to pretend to like her soap operas anymore. Or her tuna casserole.” He guffaws and ambles away to serve a pair of middle-aged locals seated at the other end of the bar.

When you’ve finished your last Bacardi Breezer, Heather slaps your shoulder encouragingly. “Alright, you ready?”

“Yup,” you say, swaying a little as you hop off the barstool. You stumble and bump into Heather, laughing. She steadies you with a massive grin. She’s delighted; she’s relieved.

“Good. Now get your ass over to the pool table and do your best impression of Demi Moore in Striptease.”

You have no intention of doing that. But you do—with Heather’s stabilizing grip on your waist—make your way to the pool table. There is a crowd pulsing around it: Trent, Trent’s assorted jock friends, Aegon, Kimmie. Aegon is standing in the background and nursing his—fourth? fifth? tenth?—rum and Coke. His face is vague and his eyes groggy. Still, he is beautiful. He’s so beautiful you almost blurt it out before stopping yourself. Kimmie is lining up a shot to break the balls out of their triangular configuration. Her silver hoop earrings glint under the Christmas lights. She is covered in male gazes like the sheen of ice on a lake. The white cue ball collides with the pyramid-shaped conglomeration; the balls go flying in every direction. The solid green ball—number 6—disappears into a pocket.

“Booyah!” Kimmie cheers. There are claps and whistles. Aegon just stares blankly, gnawing on his lower lip, that chronically disobedient lock of hair resting on his cheek.

“You’re majorly talented,” Trent’s friend Gary swoons. Kimmie bats her eyelashes at him and then checks to see if Aegon noticed. He didn’t. Kimmie, flustered but trying to hide it, takes another turn but doesn’t manage to sink a single ball.

“Hey!” Trent welcomes you warmly. He slings an arm across your shoulders, which ordinarily you would shy away from. Now, you lean into him, your body melding with his, your muscles loose and sinuous. Aegon does notice this. His eyes are a dark, dangerous blue: riptides, maelstroms, trenches miles deep. Good, you think. Maybe I can get him jealous enough to reconsider. Maybe I can make him want to change. “Want to shoot for me? I’ll show you how.”

You smile up at Trent. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

He passes you a cue stick with large, rugged hands. “So you’ll need one of these…and then you have to chalk it…” He presses a tiny blue cube into your palm. You rub chalk onto the tip of the cue stick, feeling ridiculous.

“And what’s the purpose of this part? Superstition? To give me false confidence?”

Trent chuckles. “To help the stick get better contact with the cue ball.”

“So you’re an expert, huh?”

“I am athletically gifted.”

“Does pool count as a sport? I’m skeptical.”

“Pay attention,” he teases, flipping his hair out of his face. Seabiscuit strikes again. “Now Kimmie sunk a solid ball, so the solids are all hers. Ours are the striped ones. If we can sink all the striped ones before Kimmie sinks all the solid ones, we win. And you don’t want to sink the black 8 ball until all our balls are already gone. That’s the very last step.”

“Sink striped balls. Don’t sink solid balls or the 8 ball. Okay. Got it.” You take aim, your sights set on the striped blue ball, number 10. This is somewhat difficult; thanks to your plentiful Bacardi Breezers, the pool table feels like it’s listing like a ship. The tapered shaft of the stick is balanced awkwardly on the back of your hand. “Am I doing this right…?”

“Here,” Trent says, and then he gets to work repositioning you. He touches you without asking, which you don’t object to under the circumstances; Aegon’s face is flushing a gory, wrathful red. Trent spreads your fingers farther apart, adjusts the angle of your elbow, pushes you between the shoulder blades to lean a bit lower over the pool table. The hem of your black dress creeps up your bare thighs, fluttering like a whisper. Aegon aggressively chugs the rest of his rum and Coke, the ice cubes clanging in the glass.

You take your shot, and the white cue ball whizzes across the pool table. It ploughs into the number 10 ball and sends it down into the abyss-like pocket closest to where Aegon stands.

“Yes!” Trent roars. He swoops in, picks you up with startling ease, whirls you around once before setting your unsteady feet back down on the floor and accepting thunderous back-slapping from his hoard of friends.

“Wow,” Heather murmurs, mostly to herself.

“Ugh, you whore!” Kimmie jeers, but she’s clapping and giggling too. She’s still the main character tonight, and she always will be, and she knows this like she knows the lines in her own palms. She’s just that kind of girl.

“Another round, another round!” Trent’s friends are chanting, and then they stampede together off to the bar to procure more beer. Kimmie, tottering in her silvery platform heels, moves to join them.

Abruptly, Aegon catches Kimmie’s forearm and pulls her to him. He whispers in her ear; her eyes go wide, her breath hitches, her glossy lips split into an exhilarated smile. And then they dash out of Ursa Minor together, stopping just long enough to grab their parkas off the coatrack by the door. They’re gone. They’re both gone.

You sputter to Heather: “What…? How…? No, they can’t! They can’t—!”

“What do you want me to do?!” she hisses back. “Tackle them before they can make it off the premises? Tie Kimmie to a chair? Force her to take a vow of celibacy? You didn’t tell her that he was off-limits when you had the chance. This is the consequence that we all have to live with.”

“Oh my god.” The room is spiraling around you. You feel nauseous; you feel ice cold. He wasn’t supposed to leave with her. He wasn’t supposed to…

“Uh, are you okay?” Heather asks.

“No,” you choke out. Aegon and Kimmie! Aegon and Kimmie!!! “I have to get out of here.”

“Well you can’t drive home like this—”

“I know. I’ll be back.” You push by her, snatch your parka off the coatrack, dive out into the starless, frigid night.

There’s no one in the parking lot, no one on the street. You make a hard left and walk with no particular plan down towards the harbor, your shaking hands jammed into your parka pockets, tears streaming down your face. The wind whips at you, howling and old, older than the creaking wooden planks of the dock beneath your boots, older than all of humanity. You pass bobbing sailboats and fishing vessels until you come to the end of the pier, sit there cross-legged and sobbing, gaze out through blurred vision over the Gastineau Channel. It separates mainland Juneau from Douglas Island, which began—like so much of Alaska did—as a gold mining settlement. You remember the sparkling gold eyeshadow that you applied in your bedroom just a few hours ago. You don’t feel very valuable at the moment. You feel unworthy. You feel alone.

It is silent except for the waves and the wind. It is very dark; the sky is clouded, and the illuminations of Ursa Minor and the streetlights are faraway. When you hear the footsteps behind you on the pier, your stomach drops; they’re too heavy to be Heather’s or Joyce’s. But when you twist around, it is Trent that you see in the dim, shadowy light.

“Hi,” he says, raising a hand. “Heather told me that you ran away.”

“Hi. I guess I did.”

He hesitates, flips his hair, drops down beside you at the edge of the pier. “You okay?”

You sigh heavily and swipe the tears from your cheeks. “Yeah. I’m just having a really bad day.” Like an absurdly, phenomenally, exponentially bad day.

“I know what that’s like.”

I doubt it, Trent. I really do.

You sit there together in the quiet, watching the sparce light flick off the crests of waves, staring at the bright dots of houses and shops across the channel on Douglas Island. Trent puts his arm around you. You let him, and—partially for the warmth, partially for the healing sensation of being desired, being cared for—lean your head against his chest.

After a very long time, you ask dully: “What do you like about working on a salmon boat?” It’s almost enough to make you wince. It’s the kind of pedestrian, unimaginative question that Aegon would make fun of. But Trent seems to consider it carefully.

“I like being outside,” he says. “I like the fresh air, I like the scenery. And I like how working with my hands helps me get all my frustrations out. I’m a better person when I stay busy. Commercial fishing can be intense sometimes, don’t get me wrong, that’s why I’m trying to get into the Forest Service. But I like it enough.”

“What do you like about me?”

You can hear the awe in his voice. “You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. There was a time when I didn’t care so much about things like that. But now that I’m older and I’ve started to think about settling down…I feel like you’re the right kind of girl to do that with.”

You look up at him. He beams down at you like a full moon. And then he kisses you. He’s warm and strong and handsome in that obvious sort of way, but he’s something else, too: a little forceful, a little rough. Rough isn’t always a bad thing. But it’s like you can glimpse the silhouette of someone else beneath the surface, stars veiled by clouds, the shadows of fish under ice. He doesn’t feel anything like Aegon. He doesn’t patch the wound that Aegon left in you at all.

I wonder where Aegon is right now. I wonder what he’s doing to Kimmie.

When Trent breaks the kiss, you tell him that you have to go. He walks you back to Ursa Minor, his mighty palm on the small of your back.

~~~~~~~~~~

Heather drives you home, shellshocked. She asks, in reference to your confession about the kiss on the pier: “So…uh…do you want to talk about it, or…?”

“No. Definitely not.”

“Are you and Trent…like…a thing…?!”

“I don’t know. He seems to think we are.”

“Oh god, oh god, oh my god.” She rubs her forehead with one hand, her astonished eyes on the indigo-black horizon.

When you get home, your dad is already asleep. Your mom is straightening up the kitchen, wiping off countertops and scrubbing dishes in the bubble-filled sink. When you ask if she needs any help, she bursts out laughing.

“You’re the one who looks like she needs help,” she says. “What happened at the bar?”

You grimace down at the floor. “A lot of things. A lot of things.”

“Nothing you feel the desire to share?”

“No. Not quite yet. Can you drive me back to pick up my Jeep tomorrow?”

“Sure. Why don’t you take a nice bubble bath and then go to bed?” she suggests. “You’ll feel better in the morning. Do you need a snack? I could make pancakes. Or a grilled cheese.”

“That’s really kind of you, but no thanks, Mom.” I’ve completely lost my appetite.

You sulk in a bubble bath for a while, drag yourself out, brush your teeth and hair, try to rub the night off every part of you like smoothing rough edges off a gemstone. When you wander out into the hallway, your eyes catch on the door to the attic, a rectangular outline in the white ceiling. You are mostly sober by now, and yet still the idea that strikes you seems ludicrous at first. It’s a muddled, disjointed thought. It might be a dangerous one.

If I can learn more about Jesse, maybe I can understand Aegon too.

The box of journals is up there, you know, dusty and untouched and waiting. The rope hangs invitingly. You pull the door open and unfold the ladder. You climb up into the attic, turn on the single naked lightbulb, and push aside bins of holiday decorations and family heirlooms until you find a small, unlabeled cardboard box that’s sealed shut with duct table. You peel back the tape and peek inside the flaps. The box is filled with thin leather journals in a variety of colors: olive green, navy blue, rust red, earthen brown. You gather the cardboard box into your arms and carry it down to your bedroom, slipping it discretely beneath your bed to live beside childhood stuffed animals and mounds of old yearbooks. You close up the attic and then venture downstairs to get yourself some water to stave off a blossoming hangover.

Your mom is at the kitchen sink, washing a plate with a green Scotch-Brite sponge. “Did I hear you up in the attic, ladybug? Do you need help finding something?”

“No, I got it.”

“Okay.” But she studies you, puzzled. She’s going to worry unless you explain.

“I don’t want to make you talk about it,” you say. “And I don’t want to upset you. I’ll never mention it again. But just so you know, I want to read the journals. For my own reasons. That’s why I was up in the attic. I was bringing the box down to my bedroom.”

“Oh.” She freezes, stares out the window over the sink, goes vacant. “That makes sense. That’s fine.”

“Mom, are you alright?”

“Of course, ladybug.” There is nothing outside but night. You can see her reflection in the glass like a mirror. Long, slow seconds tick by. “It seemed like he was getting better,” your mom says, her voice faint and weightless, an untethered balloon, a feather on waves. “That’s the strange part. At the very end, it seemed like he was getting better.”

Then she lets the plate sink beneath the pearlescent bubbles, wipes her hands dry on a dishtowel, and goes to bed without another word.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon ii #aegon x you #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen ii #hotd fanfic #aegon x y/n #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen ii x reader #aegon targaryen ii x you

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missamyrisa2 · 1 year

Note

How about this: you meet up to tickle a handsome man, but instead He says he wants to switch roles. He ties you down spread eagle and eyes your tummy, hips and thighs. How does that cute (or steamy) session go?

Mmmmmh~ I kind of love this soooo much~<3

I love to give tickles, it really is my love language. Buttttt~ I will always be a ticklee at heart so my soul just dances and skips and falls apart into sparkly giggles at the thought of someone turning the tables like that ~

"Nnnnnnh okayyyyy okay okay okay okay okayyy see but, I'm kind of possibly maybe ticklish and I can't help but notice you have the tickler eyes yeahhhh you know there's the tickler smile? No? Okay the tickler smile is when you can see the tickly intenttttttt and it's really similar to what people get mmmhhh when they see something really cute or they're enjoOoOoying someone's bashfulness likeeee girls really get that smile when they're playing with a guy's beautiful hair hair hair hairrrrr or if someone is playing with a kitten Sooo the tickly intent can also show up in the eyes which is what I see now and yeeeeeee that's okayyy okayyy myyy hippppsss I'm a hippie you're in my hip dips that's a thing hip diiiips~!!" I stammer through explanations as if they could ward off the giggles and gasps as my tickler bears down on my highly sensitive midsection.

The extremities on my body are in full protest, arms yanking uselessly on the bonds ~ my biceps are almost a joke of a prospect, flexing and twitching while doing absolutely nothing to help the ticklish situation. My legs are quivering threads, entirely pointless as my hips are being made to buck through slow concentric circles of his thumbs. Those little bones have made their way out of the top of my shorts, just inviting so much attention. I blurt out nonsensical explanations of what I'm currently feeling~ "and the twiiiistttt that's a twist seeee my hips are doing it we're dancing soooo you can stop tickling there's no tickling in the vanilla chocolate strawberry twiiiistt!!" My words turn from babbling to near soundless squeaks when those skilled fingers migrate inward, capturing my belly from either flank ~ always that line from the hips to tummy does me in ~ my navel is a twitching protestor, both begging for attention and jumping in outrage at the tickly inquisition forming all around my tum ~ I shake my head, hair a complete mess now, the stray threads tickling my own neck and upper chest which I certainly call out and beg him to move them aside. He does not, and the tickles travel around my navel like a scurrying relentless set of tickle bots whose only purpose is to keep me in this fluffy silly prison for eternity~

And then it gets oooh so much worse ~ those wicked fingers start tracing my beltline, working down the happy trail to my waist back and forth. The most dreaded maneuver starts and I find words through my squeaking gasps ~ "Nnnnhh don't dooo it nooo hookiesssss that's not a hooky zone you can't glide thereeee I'm gonna mmmhh I'll tease you to bitss for thissss you don't even know I'm a world famous teeeheheeaserrrr nnhhh not thteree!!!" I beg and plead and slip a snickermoan as his finger indeed performs the waist hook, slipping right under the line of my shorts and glides back and forth from hip to hip. The sensation of having my bottoms invaded is bad enough, and the tightness of the fabric keeps his finger snug to my skin~ not to mention his proximity to the most dreaded of sensations and my most silly awful kink~ the tickly teasy intent rises in both his eyes and smile~ the touch, and then the comments. His other hand is gently touching the flower shaped buckle on my belt, his mouth is commenting about it. It's all fuzz in my ears now, the tickles at my waist the knowing words, that damned curious touch ~ I hear myself giggling, gasping, saying a string of words that makes no earthly sense. He continues, talking about the cuteness of the accessory, that it really looks adorable on me and loves that I wore such an outfit for him. I can't take the supposedly innocuous commentary, and he knows it. I'm throwing my head back, a blushy pile now. Rocking my hips, bucking and twisting. But the touches and the comments and the tickles never cease~

Not until I'm completely fuzzy and writhing in my bonds, barely responding to the touches and words ~ at least until, I feel my thighs quivering. "Nnnhh...sthhhppp not thereeee sooo not theree~" I whimper, and quickly stop my pleading, arching in a huge giggly moan when he takes a single finger to tap on the buckle ~ admonishment, tease, and warning all in one motion. I take my thigh tickles in good nature, trying to keep my legs open and still. He smirks and those fingers wiggle up and down exploring freely my trembling muscles. I'm a gasping mess, giggling and groaning and stifling my begs taking all that taunting sensation. The fingers gliding on that skin sends my toes curling, my body was already wanting and now this puts me over the top. And he finally acknowledges my princess part ~ that swollen mound in my shorts aching and begging for attention all through this session. With a click, my favorite ~ the magic wand ~ kicks to life and he wastes no time bringing it right to my death spot through the thick material of the shorts and dainty fabric of my panties. The dual layer of trembling sensation has me gigglemoaning desperately in an instant ~ which is why he only lets the wand graze and lightly kiss my royal area.

"Commmmeeee onnnnn let me gigglecummmm I've sooo earned iitttt right? all those dances with youuuu I think I promised you teases right? That's like a hhuuuundred dollar valueee to someoneeee maybee? I dunno I do it for free maybe I should charge heyyyy like let's setup premium packages you and I we'll go into businessssss just nnnnh let meee giggledrop firewooorksss!!"

My words sail into the distance past his unwavering teasing form. The wand bounces and jumps from spot to spot keeping me guessing with varying speeds in the vibrations. His fingers continue to torment my thighs, occasionally breaking to tease a hip or my navel or readjust my belt with a taunt which never fails to make me gasp out madly. And the buzzing never quits, never allows me up over the edge ~ only to visit, to briefly glimpse what it might be like to tumble into that golden kingdom of freely flowing giggledrops ~ and then it pulls back, leaving my shorts all strained and throbbing, how silly ~ while I'm tickled all through the edge with those masterful wiggly fingers~

And supposedly we're going all night~ maybe that's what he said, or I said. It's all fuzzies from here~

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sweetpiccolo-blog · 1 year

Note

Hiya! Hope you're having a nice day/night!

I'm here for the matchups so let me begin quickly!

◆ I am 162 cm tall, I have really dark brown hair and I also have hazel eyes.

◆ I know fluent Turkish (native), C1 English, B2 Azerbaijan Turkish and a little bit of A2/B1 German.

◆ I'm ISFJ 6w5 and I'm apparently an Aquarius. (I don't care for zodiac signs lmao-)

◆ My hobbies include sewing, cooking/baking, cycling, drawing, reading, drumming, photography, gaming, learning new languages and etc.

◆ Likes: Geography, citrus fruits, nature, cartoons, swing sets, cold weather...

◆ Dislikes: Insects, bad grammar, crowds, public speaking...

◆ I have no preferences but my favourite is Seb, that should tell a lot about me. (:

Thanks for taking your time to read this, have a great day! 🧿

- Ani

HI ANI!!! I am so excited to finally do your ask. I really hope you like it <3 I did not give you Seb because you are literally him so I decided to match you up with someone I feel like you would love spending time with.

This is only my opinion, so be sure to let me know what you think about it later : )

LET US GET STARTED!

Header by @dvluc

Your match is...

☆Alex Albon☆

You and Alex are serious when you need to be but that’s like 5% percent of the time, maybe less. You bet you both would be goofing around all day every day. But you are responsible and reliable. That being said, if there is a problem I think you both would come to a solution pretty quickly and even if there is a problem, there’s not much of them between you two.

Languages! You know many, he does few so that means… learning from each other! He would be amazed by your linguistic skills. I feel like he could teach you some Thai phrases maybe something about Thai cuisine too since he loves food. You would actually crush him with your rich vocabulary. Always blurring out something which sounds like gibberish to him but then you would laugh it off, slow down and translate what you just said. It is a very symbiotic way of learning for both of you.

You have incredible trust in each other. And also loyalty. You two would die for one another without a question. You are practically connected, inseparable. If there is you, Alex must be somewhere around and that works the other way around too.

I can see you dropping some geography facts here and there and Alex just looking at you as if you grew another head. He remembers them though and then flexes in front of George or Lando.

MEMES. Memes everywhere. No matter which app you communicate through there are loads and loads of memes. Nonstop.

When you agree on something together you do it. Even if it`s a spontaneous trip. One of you says the idea out loud, other one agrees and boom a plan is born. Backing a huge cake in the middle of the week? Why not. Getting out on the bikes for a whole day till the sun goes down? Yes please. Taking random pictures of everyone during the rawe ceek and then laughing at them? Uh-huh. Designing t-shirts with some cool design? Ya bet.

Gaming nights are a thing at your house. When there is no race, you buy the newest game and play together. No matter the genre. You even call the guys from Twitch to join you.

You both love nature! Although Alex is more of summer and sea guy and you a wintery gial. You will find something that both of you can enjoy. Just being outside makes you recharge your batteries.

BONUS: You avoid crowds as much as possible but that is not easy while dating an F1 driver, so you and Alex come up with ridiculous outfits to blend in and somehow they always work, nobody suspects a thing. You try to make existing in a crowd less of a burden and just have fun.

ENJOY! 💙💙💙

#match up #alex albon #aa23 #f1 x you #f1 #f1 imagine #ani ask

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annepsilvaauthor · 1 year

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Fighter Weapons — Chapter 4

Pairing(s): Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x OC (Claire Mitchell) / Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Natasha "Phoenix" Trace

Summary: An untold story. A series that shows what happened during the Top Gun of our beloved pilots of Top Gun: Maverick.

Warnings: Subtle sexual innuendos, brief language, alcohol consumption, angst, smut, fluffy.

Word Count: 2.739

The darlings who don't want to miss any updates ↪️ @missathlete31 @togetherisawonderfulplacetobe @switch3rr @na0my @aprilwithapricots @goldenloverschild

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

ғɪɢʜᴛᴇʀᴛᴏᴡɴ, ᴇᴜᴀ

The next day, two pilots in their flight suits descended the stairs to the second floor, where the dormitory was located. They passed miniature F-4s, A-7s and some F-14s on the walls, then took the corridor to the Hangar.

“Not so fast… my head." Flex complained with a hand on his forehead.

They skidded to a stop outside a door that led into the Hangar. That morning's class had already started, with Blade in front of a whiteboard. There were X's and O's everywhere and arrows showing paths across the sky.

Then, they entered the huge room that allowed to observe the fighters parked outside, as well as the movement of the employees. The entire class looked at them.

"Who are you?" Blade asked the taller one.

“I am Sundown." He replied trying not to show nervousness with the instructor's feline look.

"Okay, right. You are late!"

They thought they were free, but Venom appeared behind them through the door and intercepted them with a calm, but punishing gaze.

"And who are you?" he asked the shorter one.

"I'm Flex, sir!"

"Flex...? You don't look like Flex to me. You call that muscle?" Venom lifted one of his arms. "Doesn't look like muscle. Looks like... Pork."

The entire class laughed at the comment. Even Sundown had to laugh, scratching his chest.

"Why are you laughing? You are Fungus!"

"Fungus!" he exclaimed offended as he stopped scratching.

“Don't make a problem out of it, or the name will stick." Pork muttered in a whisper to his friend.

“This is going to catch on anyway." Fungus said discouraged.

Rooster turned his attention to the front of the room with a smile still on his face. Though he didn't enjoy laughing at anyone, he had to admit that moments like this saved him from all the tension of being in a room full of the best of the best. He was aware of his skill and hard work, but also theirs. He didn't underestimate anyone there.

At least that scene let him know that his code name could be changed over and over again, depending on who spoke.

Rooster looked around the room. He sat in the third row on the right, alone. Phoenix and Storm once again sat in the front row with Hangman and Coyote as their neighbors on the left side. He noticed sparks every time one of them exchanged glances and had the impression that at any moment there would be an explosion there. Sometimes fighter pilots were too cocky, he admitted that. He himself had his moments.

“At the back of this room are your enemies. Your instructors." Blade continued the class.

Rooster and several others turned again to scan the relaxed, poised, mean faces of the men in blue flight suits with Top Gun caps atop their heads.

“The photographs of all of them are stored in the Kremlin's war room. Let me assure you. They fly to kill."

Rooster looked back at his notes. In all those years, he still didn't understand the motivation for wanting to scare the students. All instructors, including those at the Naval Academy, took a kind of pleasure in treating the student as badly as possible. He had a theory that maybe it made them tougher about missions and life, but deep down, he knew it was just egos fighting. In his entire career thus far, only one had ever treated him like a trusted professional colleague. And that was no longer part of his life.

“You will be trained and evaluated by some civilian specialists as well. These civilians are here because they are the best sources on enemy aircraft, as well as..."

The hangar access door opened and Blade began to speak towards someone in the center.

“Oh, hello, Claire. Well, men, one of our instructors is here today. Claire is best qualified to get into P subs and VN curves and diagrams."

They heard the sound of thin heels clicking on the thick floor of the hangar, and a woman in white scapin heels and a blue dress covered by an enormous black button-up overcoat walked in the center of the rows.

Rooster, like the others, was watching her from behind and he had the slight impression that he knew that way of walking. Firm and sweet at the same time. All of a sudden, information started to gather in his mind and a crazy reasoning sprouted. His theory came to life the same instant she turned to the class, her expression serious but a smile in her bright eyes.

She didn't look at him for a second. And Rooster smiled as he shook his head and scratched his forehead. Claire was still the same. She loved to hide important facts of her life, including his life as well. He was disappointed, but not surprised. That was what the whole scene was about last night, after all. But why was it so hard to just tell him the truth?

"Claire Mitchell. Code name, Claire. She has a PhD in aerospace engineering and is a civil instructor, so you don't need to salute her. But you better listen to her because the Pentagon listens to her about your proficiency, is that clear?"

“Good morning, pilots. Here we will help you to better study the F-18 Hornet and Super Hornet fighters. Despite being recognized as a derivative, the F-18 Boeing Super Hornet is another aircraft. It is about 20% larger, weighs about 3 tons more empty and, when loaded, weighs 7 tons more than the Hornet. Carry 33% more fuel, 41% greater range, and 50% greater combat persistence."

Claire poured information out to them in a first contact, impressing with her command and firm tone of voice. And she still hadn't met Rooster's eyes.

"The main differences that can interfere in combat is the radar, which on the Super Hornet evolved into the APG-79. Unlike the APG-73, it does not use mechanical scanning techniques, but fixed AESA cells, which in itself eliminates the most common cause of malfunctions in this type of radar." She kept talking with almost no pause for breath. She was really excited to share that information. "The Super Hornet, unlike the previous Hornet, can be equipped with an aerial refueling system (buddy-buddy system), which is the great differential for carrying out some missions. For example, in a mission in which logistical support is required, a designated Super Hornet of the squadron could be loaded with a large amount of fuel, thus compromising its performance due to the large amount of weight, but this would only serve as a refueling plane air for its companions. The squadron could carry out long-range missions and could return to base thanks to this system."

"My squadron does not need this buddy-buddy system, as the situation is resolved in a few minutes of flight." Hangman interrupted her with that boastful smile. “When you have a leader who knows what he's doing, there's no reason to fly too long and waste fuel. That's how I did an armed kill."

"Show off!" Rooster said as he coughed.

With that action, he garnered quite a few stares. First it was from Phoenix, who smiled at him in approval and he returned it in a wink. Hangman looked at him too, but with defiance and a certain amount of anger when he saw him wink at Phoenix. Finally, Claire turned her attention to him. She remained with a serious expression, but a smile pointed at the corner of her lips.

He wanted to ask her why she hid it from him, why she always ran away like that and why they couldn't understand each other anymore like when they were younger. But he couldn't. Not there. And maybe not in the hangar. He needed some time alone with her.

“Someone has to do what needs to be done." Hangman commented turning his attention to the instructor. “We're fighter pilots, not birds."

"Tell us, Hangman, who was covering your wingman while you were showing off in the sky?" Rooster insisted on the provocation.

“He was fine." He played with the toothpick. "Better than your squadron, isn't it, Rooster? They have to wait... wait... and wait for the moment when you will act. Good thing you fly in a Super Hornet and can use the "Tanker", otherwise you'd die up there without fuel."

“Better to wait and protect everyone than to abandon my wingman."

"The best thing is to succeed in the mission. Your wingman is not helpless, he can take care of himself." he chatted with that smug smile. How he was beginning to irritate Rooster! “Besides, I'm a lone wolf."

"More like a peacock." Rooster mocked, getting a laugh from Phoenix and Storm.

"Enough!" Blade ordered from the back of the room.

Claire shot the captain a look, indicating she could handle the situation herself, and walked over to the board. She began to explain the operation of both fighters with a mastery and sweetness that enchanted everyone. No one took their eyes off her, everyone was too focused on the importance of her notes and almost forgot to speak when she asked for them.

After a few hours, the introductory class ended and everyone started to leave the room. Hangman was passing through the door when he saw Phoenix talking to an instructor, the same one from the day before. They were both smiling, she more cheerfully and he in a restrained way. Everyone had already left the hall and they noticed this, so he pulled her into a tight hug.

"What the hell is that?" he thought aloud, still planted in the doorway.

Hangman watched the two walk away and be careful to walk in different directions. He shook his head in denial. "What are you up to, Phoenix?", he thought. He finally made his way to the cafeteria.

Still in the hangar, Claire gathered her belongings when Rooster pointed in her field of vision. His expression was more one of curiosity than anger. She sighed knowing where this was going.

"Why?" he asked simply and she narrowed her eyes, so he elaborated better. "Why didn't you tell me yesterday?"

“I told you it was a special project."

Claire took the huge coat over her, because the weather in San Diego was killing. She had chosen that piece because that morning it dawned freezing, however, something typical of a seaside town, the climate was unstable. And now she was sweating. And she shivered a little as his gaze followed her every move.

"You always do this to me." he said between a hurt laugh.

“I live a different life now, Rooster." His codename said by her sounded strange. It was the first time he had heard her say it and he knew it was due to her professionalism. "I keep more secrets than hairs in your mustache."

"I wish it only happened now."

"Serious? That was almost twenty years ago. Do you really want to come back to that subject here?"

"No I don't." He approached her, looking deep into her beautiful eyes. “Me and the guys are going to the bar today. Don't wanna come?"

It was a friendly request, without judgment or demand. He just wanted to talk and clarify some things that she insistently denied him year after year.

"I can't." She let her guard down a bit.

"Why not?" he asked almost in a whisper.

"For an engineer, the nights are more productive than the day."

She smiled, a sweet, playful smile. The one she always slipped into when she needed to say something nasty, but she didn't want to hurt anyone. Rooster had seen that smile so many times, but he was always taken by the beauty of it. He smiled back.

“Sometimes I'm jealous of your notebooks, you know?"

"Why?"

“They always got more of your attention than I did. he teased, but they both knew there was some truth there."

"My notebooks can't sing or play like you." She commented smiling and he knew she remembered the past.

“Nah… I'm not that good."

“That's not what I saw yesterday at the bar."

"What? Were you there the whole time?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes. I watched as you gathered a multitude of gazes from men and especially women." She winked. "Are you together?"

"Who?"

“You and the girl in the front row. I saw how you talked."

“Jealousy again, Claire?" he insulted in a playful tone.

"Again?" She feigned offense.

"Don't you remember how you scared every girl that came near me? I had a real girlfriend only after I went to college."

“I was just protecting you from those freaks. They didn't deserve you, believe me." Her eyes roamed over his face, remembering. “You always deserved someone special."

“I'm an adult now. I know how to choose who to be with. He moved closer to her." Now they were a hand's breadth away, where he could smell her lavender and she could smell seawater. "But don't worry, your place will always be well kept in my heart."

"Excellent."

They remained where they were, the same distance and position. Rooster looked at those sweet and avid eyes made up by a black line above, which brought a certain maturity to her. Claire stared into the amber glow in his eyes, which danced like the flames of a bonfire.

That had always drawn her attention to him, as Bradley had a personality that veered beautifully between extroversion and shyness, but his eyes always held that warm, intense glow that often caught her off guard. What happened at that moment.

Claire felt like a sixteen-year-old again, her heart pounding in her chest and struggling not to sigh. Bradley had always been her funny, laid-back, gangly friend. But over the years, both have changed, getting taller and with more beautiful bodies. And sometimes, when Bradley would grab her in his arms, run around her house with her, and then throw himself on the couch with her, Claire felt something different. Warmth at the feel of him so close, his scent, his mouth, and those damn eyes. She wanted then what she wanted now, across from him, nearly twenty years later.

"I need to go." she said, grateful her voice didn't shake.

"OK. You're a teacher now...you have to write on papers and keep them in folders or whatever a teacher does."

She laughed out loud. He had the gift of taking her out of the role she was playing, that of a serious and competent employee.

“My proposal still stands, you know?" he insisted with that playful smile.

“Bye, Bradley."

He pretended to have been hit by an arrow straight through the heart and grimaced. She tried very hard not to laugh there and echo into the rooms of the Admirals and Commanders. She watched him leave the hangar and was finally able to breathe properly.

Claire knew she had been a terrible friend in keeping it from him. But she was also still wondering how that was possible. How did she end up precisely in his class? It was a fucking irony of fate. And she didn't know yet how she felt. She hadn't spent so much time with him in almost twenty years. Their encounters were always quick, occasional, despite the connection always existing.

She wanted to believe that they had matured enough to put the past behind them, or at least the hurts, but that proved to be a lie every time they saw each other. The forbidden subject always came up, their code names, death. And they always drifted further away, longer.

But now, she would have to see him every day for five weeks. Remembering the past every time she found him. Feeling that same body heat when looking into his eyes. To think of what a terrible person she was to have kept secrets from him in the past and continue to do so. And she wasn't sure if Bradley would forgive him if he discovered one specific secret.

Claire ran from him like a doe from its predator, because being so close to him reminded her of how good she was back then and that hurt. It hurt more because she knew that at any moment she could lose him forever. All because of her.

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