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hedwig221b · 27 days ago

Note

I absolutely love all the fic recommendations you give and I think you are an absolute angel for doing them. And I feel really bad for asking for some but I’ve been searching and I’m coming up short on them so I wanted to ask if you (or your follows because the suggestions they leave on other asks always so good!) know of any good Viking or medieval type of Sterek stories. Please and thank you so much!

💐💐💐💐

Hello, my love, here you are, hope you like these

Medieval

Under the Wide Blue Sky by zeit

Crown Prince Stiles returns home after many long months away commanding his father's armies. He doesn't feel he understands the true motives of his enemies, but having ended the battle for now, he turns his attention instead, albeit begrudgingly, to finding someone who might sit at his side someday when he assumes the throne. His childhood affection for Sir Derek blooms anew when the man accompanies his younger sister, Lady Cora, to the capital to be presented as a formal suitor for Stiles's hand in marriage.

Weaving Peace, Stitch My Heart by Susihukka, wanderingeyre

After a generation of a devastating war, the countries of Triskel and Astoria have come to a peace agreement. The only son of Astoria, Stiles, will offer himself as a Peaceweaver in marriage to the second oldest child of Triskel, Derek. Stiles is nervous but excited to meet his new husband and start a family. Unfortunately, for Stiles, his intended wants nothing to do with him.

A Princely Knight by Dexterous_Sinistrous

He would stand by Stiles’ side, a constant shadow of protection until his death. A life for a life, one worth much more than an orphan turned thief turned royal guard could comprehend. In truth, Derek saw the one person he would gladly give his life for, because Stiles made this world better. ~*~ Or, Stiles is a prince and Derek is his knight.

Wolf Winter by DarkAthena (seraphim_grace)

Stiles is the legitimate omega son of King Deucalion, tricked by his brother Theo into running away he is trapped, ruined and unable to return home he finds himself stuck, captured as a poacher by the infamous Hale clan he claims sanctuary in their small chapel and Peter puts him to work, with Derek just returned from the crusades he needs a new healer and the only option they've got is the boy in the chapel who is pretending to be a beta

The White Hart of Winter by DarkAthena (seraphim_grace)

Sent to marry the Hale Beast Stiles finds himself alone in a castle left to ruin and watched over by Kate Argent, who he thinks is sleeping with his new husband and seems determined to destroy him.

A Devotion by TroubleIWant

There’s a boy exiting the doors as they approach. Where Derek is tan from hours outside, the boy is pale except for a few beauty marks on one cheek. He’s dressed in fine riding clothes, and flanked by a guard wearing the sign of the royal house. A noble, then. He’s younger than Derek, but, considering his higher station, a bow would be appropriate. Despite that, Derek can’t help looking curiously at the boy, who’s looking back at Derek with just as much interest. For a moment, their eyes meet - the boy’s are a deep amber in the sunlit courtyard, ringed by long, tawny lashes. A gloved hand smacks the back of Derek’s head and he instinctively flinches away, hunching his shoulders. He loses track of the other boy as they pass one another, and as he turns to get another look, the knight grabs his shoulder and marches him forward into the stable. “Keep your eyes to yourself,” the knight instructs. “And next time, show the proper respect to Crown Prince Stiles.” Or: A medieval AU that's a little Princess Bride, a little bit more Game of Thrones, and a healthy side-serving of gay erotica.

The Thorns of a Rose by Dexterous_Sinistrous

"You have your mother’s eyes,” Peter suddenly commented, his tone light in his observation. Stiles stiffened at the mention of his mother. “Honest eyes,” Peter added as an afterthought. “Sunlit like the golden embers of coal burning in a forge.” Stiles turned a soured expression on Peter. “Have you a point?” He asked. “Many men have struggled to have those eyes even spare them a glance,” Peter simply stated. “An honest but naive treasure that managed to fool a dragon.” He placed the crown on Stiles’ head, amused when the boy immediately pushed away from him once the ornament was in place. “Hopefully those eyes can fool the Seven Kingdoms into thinking you could love a wolf.”

an exaltation of larks by llassah

There are times when he feels as if they could fall into bed together, easy as breathing. If Stiles were not highborn, if he were an omega without connections, Derek would be sorely tempted. As it is, he resists. Derek wants, he yearns, but he resists. Still, the sight of Stiles in his cot is enough to test him, even now that it is familiar. At the end of each lambing season, he sleeps for a week, worn down by months of hard work, of relentless struggle. He doesn’t know how he’ll feel by the time Stiles leaves, how he’ll feel after long days and longer nights spent resisting the insistent tug of Stiles’s scent and the inclinations of his own foolish heart. All Derek wants is to get through the lambing season with his body and spirit intact. He had thought that the blizzards would be the main danger, not a highborn omega with beautiful eyes and a stubborn streak.

The Light in the Woods by DiscontentedWinter

To honour a treaty with the people of a strange land, Derek Hale, prince of the kingdom of Triskelion, has to marry Stiles.

bend bridges, mend bones by Thealmostrhetoricalquestion

They burst through the portal in a gust of stale air and violet light, landing hard on the outskirts of a swamp. Stiles feels his knees buckle, both from the magic required to keep the portal open and from the force of their landing, but he grits his teeth, determined to stay standing in the presence of Derek Hale and his pack. Christ, it would be just his luck to rocket through his own portal at neck-breaking speeds and collide face-first with a puddle of sticky, disgusting mud. Thankfully that doesn’t happen, which is good because Stiles can’t really afford to add useless to the list of things that Mage’s are; untrustworthy cowards, meddlers, monsters. (In which there's an awful lot of fighting, people learn to trust people, and Stiles saves the day. Repeatedly. Over and over again. And he would like some credit, goddamnit, Derek.)

The Demands of Duty by Reiya_Wakayama

With the threat of war hanging over them, Stiles and his people are caught in the middle and must chose a side before they get smashed between both and with the threat of winter and a bad harvest weighing them down, he must chose quickly.

Deflowered by astrugglingstoic

In which there is a prince, a knight, sequential sword fights, and an anecdote about pressed flower petals.

If I die before my time, bury me upside down by ElisAttack

The boy is all of sixteen years old, a too large crown of gold resting on his head. The boy is sixteen years old, and Derek knows he would die for him. Or the one where Stiles is a young King, barely holding onto power, and Derek is his most trusted knight.

The Vow of a Wolf by Dexterous_Sinistrous

"There’s a boy with alabaster skin, scattered with moles,” Jennifer explained as she thought about Stiles. “With large, dove-like eyes. He’s accompanied by this wolf—the one with fur as black as the night they travel by.” “Is it the boy or the wolf you want dead?” The hunter questioned. “Kill the boy before you end the wolf’s life,” Jennifer commanded. “Let the wolf smell the blood of the boy it loves. Let it howl in pain before you end it.” “Yes, my lady,” the hunter dutifully answered.

For the Love of The Game (It Made Me Love You) by Quirky_chemist

Stiles tugs on the arm braces of his armor, tightening the leather straps so that they were snug and in place. Scott was watching him with worried eyes as he finishes suiting up for the tournament. Every few minutes he would mumble under his breath about how Stiles’ father would kill him if he found out what they were doing. It was easy enough to fake the papers needed for an unknown knight from a rarely heard of territory, especially when you had the resources that Stiles did. He would ride as his true identity, but none would ever ride against him. Knowing that he was royalty, every knight would quickly and surely send one of their men to cover their shield with a white flag in withdrawal. It was an annoying truth that Stiles could not deny.

Moon Tribe Battles by 3rdgenderfromthesun

Derek was an alpha and a general of the Moon Tribe and he was fierce and unfaltering. This war had been going on for generations and Derek had grown up with blood beneath his claws. Beyond the stench of death, blood, gunpowder, and crackling magic was the unbelievably alluring scent of Derek's mate.

Faoladh by 3rdgenderfromthesun

Prince Stiles has always been in love with the legend of the Faoladh- skin walkers who use the pelt of wolves to transform into their feral counterparts- but he never imagined he would be kidnapped in order to lure out the supposedly mythical creatures. The legends said that they found and returned lost children to their families and guarded the woods surrounding his father's kingdom, but Stiles was long past being a child when a dark furred Faoladh came to his rescue.

When All the Pieces Fit BY NARKOTIKA

"Does he even realize? With the cooking and cleaning andandand—now this fucking baby?" Isaac fumes. Said baby waves its fist in the air, and Stiles bends to haul him onto a hip. The baby babbles something and Stiles nods his head with complete seriousness, as if everything out of its mouth is perfectly sensible and coherent. Then the kid starts mouthing at Stiles' nipple through his dress and everyone goes dead silent. "I'm going to wife him so hard," Ethan announces, and they all break out into argument over who has the best chance at mating the boy in the river.

Under the Golden Moon BY NARKOTIKA

Derek doesn't know how long he sits in his wolf skin, on his haunches, observing Stiles as the sunbeams slant through the trees and cast slashes of light across the omega's willowy form. The boy has his feet in the water, a babe on his hip, a bright smile on his face as the other younglings splash around and soak his garb. The creamy skin of his thighs peek out from the slits running down the sides of his draping skirt, and Derek has never wanted anything more than he wants this beautiful being of the woods.

also these are vaguely medieval so there

Incandescent

"You are trying to court our alpha,” sang Lydia. “Surely you realize that he does not reciprocate.” “He doesn’t stop it.” There was no point in lying. Paige was courting Derek. She would be a fool not to. “He doesn’t care to.” Lydia arched her thin eyebrow. “Why do you think he’s still searching for his mate, hmm? Why didn’t he stop once you were here? You think you can annoy him into sleeping with you?” Lydia laughed. “He is a born wolf, darling. He will not fuck you if you are not his.”

your fangs against my skin (the sound of your bones)

This was it, then, huh? It was that easy for Derek to invite someone to his den. Someone other than Stiles. He healed the wolf. Stiles killed his tormentor, mended his blood and bones, and let him sleep beside him. But none of it was enough. He wasn’t a spark, after all, but a witch — evil and alone, locked up in his tower. Witches didn’t get happy endings.

Resistance

How dare the wolf taste those lips, hold him, panting and soft, trembling and eager, so close to his chest? How dare he? Jordan could not move, even if he wanted to. The slick sounds of their kiss, of tongues sliding softly against one another, bitten-off moans, and muffled mewls interspersed with crackling fire — it was hell for him. Stiles was everything Jordan dreamed he would be in a moment like this — he moved just right, arched so beautifully, bared his throat, and grabbed the hand that pressed to his stomach, keeping it there. His smell seeped across the tent, sweeter than ever before and deadly because of it. Jordan’s eyes stung, his fists clenching the cold sheets. Yet, he could not even take a proper breath, for everything smelled of him. For three years, Jordan told himself to resist. Three years of catching Stiles only for the omega to seep from his fingers. Years without ever holding his waist like Jordan wanted to. A month was all it took for Stiles to give it to the wolf.

Viking

Open Seas and Boundless Skies by violet_vengeance

Stiles has been used and abused by his step-brother for more years than he can count. In a final act of cruelty, Stiles is traded away to a fearsome Viking warrior. Little does Stiles know that this strange and brutish man may just be the start of his freedom.

A house without kindness by DarkAthena (seraphim_grace)

Driven to the far north by hunters Derek finds shelter in the snow

like the old gods

A wolf in the woods, a raven in the sky. (fenrir!derek)

The Downed Dragon by orangecrow

A thunderous crash brings viking werewolf Derek Hale to the edge of his pack's lands four days before the last autumn moon.

[masterlist link]

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roguelov · 10 months ago

Text

Scars and All

Summary: For a few years, you have been friends with Trafalgar Law. And for a few years you have harbored a crush on his dad, Donquixote Rosinante. You tried, and tried, to ignore such feelings, but perhaps it’s time to put it all out into the open. No more hiding, you will tell him how you feel. You only hope he will let you down gently.

Word Count: ~8.9k

Reader: fem/afab (reader referred to a sweetheart/sweet girl)

Warnings: SMUT (age gap (reader is in their mid 20s and Cora is 40), breast play, oral (fem!receiving), fingering, praise kink, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, cream pie, dirty talk, small breeding kink, mostly dom!cora), minor angst (denial of feelings), pining, fluff in the end

(Fanart and inspo for the fic by levikra)

The idle rumbling of the car was the only thing keeping you grounded, or was the irritable sensation propelling your already splintered mind into more of a frenzy? You pressed your forehead into the steering wheel. The sun’s ray heated the faux leather, unfortunately not bringing you any relief or comfort. Just more irritation.

This is stupid.

Grumbling, you lifted your head, peering up at the picturesque house. It was simple with a small porch with rickety chairs to recline in, and a worn down welcome mat. Shutters muted by the sun. Its attached garage had its mouths open revealing a sleek vintage car and a motorcycle parked inside.

Plain. Ordinary.

Yet, it was frighteningly daunting. You white-knuckled your steering wheel. Your heart pounded feverishly in your chest. Blood pumped so loud in your ears you could barely discern the jumbled voices from the radio. A song? An interview? Why did it matter? Why were you focusing on such trivial things when -

Dumb. This is so fucking dumb and stupid and - and I should just leave. He wouldn’t -

You banged your head - again - against the steering wheel, growing out in frustration. “What am I doing here,” you asked the rhetorical question in the lone space.

You tilted your head, glancing at your passenger and the reason for the afflictions to your spiraling mind: a plastic container of an assortment of cookies. The container sparkled in the sunlight as if smiling giddily eager to be delivered.

You grumbled to yourself, “Why did I talk myself into this?”

*****

“Ooo, it smells amazing in here!”

You peered over your shoulder, looking back at your friend and housemate, Evelyn. She hungrily eyed all the variety of cookies littered across the kitchen counters cooling and some already packed neatly in containers. Giggling, she snatched up a fresh one, biting into it.

She hummed, smiling at you, “It’s so good.”

Your cheeks warmed and you smiled bashfully, “Thanks.”

She plopped down at one of the dining chairs, happily nibbling on her cookie. “So why’d you make so much? And why did you ask me to help?”

You snickered at her tone and small pout. “Ah well, I wanted to make some chocolate chip cookies but then you saw we had plenty of other ingredients so it just spiraled out of control from there.”

She frowned a bit, deciphering your roundabout words. “Stress baking?”

Your eyes dropped to the side. Caught. “Yeah, kind of.”

“Why?”

You added some cooled cookies into another container. “Well … I was thinking about bringing some to Rosinante .. and I know Law is still doing his shift at the hospital.”

She beamed, finishing off her cookie. “Yeah, I bet they will like them.”

You said nothing, you just closed the container, sealing it tight.

Evelyn watched you for a moment. Your hand nervously patted on your pants, rubbing off the flour and sugar. Your eyes darted around counting and recounting all the cookies. “What’s wrong? What do you think they won’t like them?” She asked.

“Huh? Oh, uh … no, that’s not the issue.” You shuffled side to side. “I thought that maybe I could finally do it.”

She cocked her head. “Do what?”

You fiddled with your fingers. “That … that I could tell Rosinante how I feel.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Really?”

She had known about your crush on him, you had confided in her some time ago. She had even comforted you when a few tears were shed under the veil of night. It wasn’t right to have a crush on your shared friend’s dad. You knew this. You tried to drop it, to let him go, yet with every conversation you had with him you fell a bit more.

“I … I just … I don’t want to keep pretending,” you quietly admitted. “If he doesn’t like me, then so be it … maybe I could finally move on once I hear it from him … it’ll be awkward as hell when we go over there in the future but … I should do this.”

No more delusions or what ifs. Your mind tired of these endless running thoughts every single night.

Eve gave you a reassuring smile. “I’m proud of you.”

You smiled, a small one. You placed a hand on your chest, rubbing the spot over your racing heart.

I got this.

Taking a deep breath, you picked up a perfectly packaged container. You held the container close to your chest, however once you turned to leave you froze.

Seeing your hesitation, Evelyn got up and started pushing you towards the door. “Alright, go.”

You dug your heels into the floor. “But -“

“Nope, now shoo.”

“Actually I - I changed my mind. This is a terrible idea and I don’t want to do the adult thing anymore -“

“It’s a wonderful idea,” she urged you, opening the front door for you. “And he’ll love them.”

And you, she thought.

“I don’t care if he likes the cookies,” you grumbled. “It’s the other thing.”

“You can do it. I know he likes you back -“

You vehemently shook your head, pushing back on her attempts. “I can’t -“

She spun you around, grabbing your arms. Her eyes blazed with determination, far more than your own. “Yes, you can. You said you would do it, so no backing out.”

You hung your head, sighing deeply, “… fine.”

She beamed. “Great! And don’t worry, I’ll keep Law away … for a few hours.”

Your cheeks burned. “Whoa, it won’t -“

With one final shove, you stumbled backwards out the door. She chirped in a cheery tone, “Now, go. And good luck!”

The door then slammed in your face.

*****

Fuck it, just do it!

Shutting off the engine and snatching up the cookies, you hopped out of your car. Every step towards the front door, every time your heart jumped up into your throat. You wanted to turn tail and hide, but how could you go back home? Eve will certainly give you trouble.

I could just sneak inside and hide away in my room.

You muttered to yourself. It was at least a decent idea.

Wrong. All wrong, a voice hissed in the back of your mind. You’re a friend of his kid, why would he even see you like this? You shouldn’t have even entertained this for a second. It’s all wrong.

Your heart ached. You shoved that voice back, locking it in the far recesses of your mind. You didn’t need it whispering in your ear. Again. You just needed to get this all off your chest, you couldn’t bear the weight of this secret anymore. The rejection will sting, it will gut you, and you will cry, but then hopefully you could finally move on.

With a shaky hand, you pressed the doorbell. The chime cut through the silence. You flinched. Glancing over your shoulder, you wondered if anyone was watching this slow disastrous train wreck.

This is a dumb idea. Maybe I could -

The doorknob clicked then opened. You whipped around, staring up at the owner of the home, the father of your friend, and the owner of your heart: Donquixote Rosinante. With a cigarette hanging from his lips, he smiled warmly, “Hey, what brings you around here?”

Matching his smile, you held up the cookies. “I made a bit too much so I thought I would stop by and bring some.”

His eyes lit up. “Really? Thank you, here -“ he moved aside giving you space to step in, “- come on in, you know where the kitchen is.”

You nodded, walking in. Smiling, Rosinante closed the door behind you. You passed by the living room and into the kitchen with Rosinante following behind you. You set down the cookies on the kitchen island. Rosinante circled around the island to the other side. He took his cigarette, flicking the ashes into a small glass tray. His eyes darted over to you. He saw the question written so clearly on your face.

“I know I’m trying to quit. Just please don’t tell, Law,” he said, taking a small drag. “I know the kid is almost a doctor now, but it’s hard to break such an old habit -“ he winked “- it can be our little secret.”

Your heart fluttered. “My lips are sealed.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

Joy, unbridled joy and elation, bloomed at the nickname. It brought a warmth unlike any other: sunshine on a snowy winter morning, bonfire on a cool summer night, or a warm blanket wrapped around at night. You couldn’t remember when it started, but you loved it. His deep voice mixed so lovely with the affectionate tone of the name. It was this small insignificant thing that made your heart cling to hope, hope that maybe - just maybe - he felt something.

“Do you mind?” Rosinante pointed at the container.

“Oh! Uh, no please go ahead,” you answered.

He smiled then opened it up. He inhaled the tantalizing decadent aroma. “Smells great.”

He plucked a chocolate chip cookie. Holding his cigarette between his fingers, he took a bite. He hummed. His eyes twinkled with delight. ”This is amazing! You’re a great baker.”

You smiled bashfully. “Thanks.”

Looking at him, your expression softened as he finished the cookie with a smile. However as he ate the last bite, your eyes caught something. “Hey, uh, you have …,” you gestured to a spot on your own cheek.

Rosinante tilted his head. His golden hair swept across his forehead. His innocent face made him appear decades younger.

How can a grown man look so adorable?

You reiterated, “You have some chocolate on your cheek.”

“Oh!” He swiped his thumb across his skin - to where you pointed - then gently sucked the chocolate off. He hummed, licking his lips. “Thanks.”

You kept your voice steady. “No problem.”

He really doesn’t understand what he does to me.

“Any reason you made so many cookies?” Rosinante asked, closing the lid.

You shrugged. “Just wanted some, but then it kind of spiraled into making a bunch of different batches.”

He smiled, leaning on the island. “Well, thank you for sharing. I might eat them all before Law gets a chance to try one.”

You mimicked him, resting your elbows on the island. “No worries, we have plenty back at the house … that is if Eve doesn’t eat them all.”

He snickered and took another drag of his cigarette.

Your eyes skimmed over him. He truly was a golden god, yet wrapped up with some boyish charms. You tore your eyes away. Your heart started to speed up again with the mere thought of spilling everything out in the open. He picked up the cookies, turning his back to you and putting them next to the fridge. It was out of sight, and somewhat hidden for a sweet treat for himself later.

Ok, fuck, breathe. Just - just say it. It’s now or never.

Clearing your throat, you spoke in a shaky voice. “Rosinante?”

He hummed, his back still to you,

I can do it. It’s fine - it’ll be fine.

You took a long deep breath. “I … I have something I want to tell you.”

He froze.

Instantly, he knew where the conversation would go before you could utter another word. The thing was Rosinante wasn’t clueless or oblivious to your infatuation with him. He will admit he didn’t at first, however it all clicked. He saw how you clung to each of his words, how you stared at him when you thought he wasn't watching, how you leaned towards him craving his warmth, or how you always sought out his company. He was surprised, yes, and in heavy denial for some time. But, as weeks passed, his observation and theory only solidified.

He could only hope your crush would pass.

Rosinante twisted around. “Please don’t.”

Most of all, Rosinante hoped and prayed his own attraction to you faded. It started as a small bud in his chest. Yet, the more and more you came around, the more you talked and laughed with him, the more the simple infatuation grew. It rooted its vines deep within his heart, taking hold and control of him. He craved your presence constantly, you were becoming his new addiction.

But, it wasn’t right.

Rosinante sighed heavily. Taking his cigarette, he smothered it out in the ashtray. “I know what you’re about to say.”

You blinked. “You do?”

Does he?

He glanced up, staring directly into your eyes. Why were his eyes so sorrowful? Or … pitiful? “You we’re about to make a confession, were you not?”

Embarrassment. White hot searing embarrassment coursed through you. Your eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights. You quickly dropped your head, hiding your boiling shame. Your hands balled into fists at your sides, nails burying into your palms.

“Please don’t.”

His haunting words replayed on repeat.

Fuck, I was right. Shit -

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing back the tears.

Rosinante frowned. Fuck. Maybe, he shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe, he should have let you speak first. But, he was trying to save you some pain. He moved around the counter, hovering by your side. His hand raised to comfort you. However, when he heard the faint sniffles, his heart clenched and his hand dropped.

Damn it.

“Look, it’s -“

You snapped your head up. You smiled, an awfully forced one that didn’t convince Rosinante in the slightest. Taking a deep breath, you tried to swim faster than the typhoon of emotions hurtling through your mind. “No, you don’t have to explain yourself. I - I understand … I’m sorry, I’ll go.”

It was a long shot, an impossible chance. Why did a part of me believe it would work? How delusional could I be?

You spun on your heels to leave, but Rosinante caught your wrist. He tugged you back. His hands cupped your face, forcing you to stay and look at him. He searched in your frantic eyes to see if he overstepped. But, all he saw was pain trying to be bottled up. “I do owe you an explanation, it’s only right,” he paused, trying to gather his thoughts, “sweetheart, it’s cliche I know but it’s not you, it’s me … I’m … I’m not right for you.”

Your heart - your conflicted heart - flipped. “… what?”

He sighed, “You are kind and wonderful and amazing -“

And everything I could ever hope for, he thought.

“- but I’m broken. I’m old. I’m scarred. I’m - I’m not whole.”

Unlike you.

His words swirled around in your head. Broken. Old. Scarred. “So?” You asked in a quiet voice.

Rosinante’s eyebrows furrowed.

Pushing down your nerves, you pressed on. “Not everyone is perfect and - and without flaws, do you think I am? Do you think I don’t have some sort of scars whether etched into my skin or across my heart?”

He blinked, taken back by your words.

Just spill it all. He … he already knows.

“Only you make me feel like this,” you whispered, dropping your gaze. “Only you can constantly make me laugh and smile, and - and brighten my day. You make me feel seen, heard.”

Rosinante’s heart hammered. “Can - can you look at me?”

Your eyes wearily inched back up. Your eyes were glassy with tears threatening to spill.

He smiled sadly, brushing his thumb across your cheekbone. “Hey, don’t waste your tears on this old fool.”

“Why not?” You muttered, desperately keeping your voice calm. “You’re amazing … why can’t you see that?”

Because I have a complicated past, he bitterly thought. I’m old, past my prime. You deserve better.

“Sweetheart -“

“Please,” you cut him off. “If - if you don’t like me, want me, or - or see me in this way then just please let me go. Don’t make me stay here any longer … but if you do … if you like me in some way … then …”

Your voice trailed off, leaving it up to him to interpret. An admission of his feelings? A kiss? It just had to be some obvious sign. You were trying not to crumble before him.

Please, just let me go.

Rosinante licked his lips. His heart raced sporadically in his chest. What should he do? What was the right thing to do?

To let you go.

To save you - one of his son’s friends - from this broken old man.

But what did he want? What did his heart yearn for?

You. He wanted you, he always wanted you. And maybe this was his only chance at happiness.

Why shouldn’t he at least try?

He leaned down slowly as if waiting for you to run, for you to get out while you could. But, you stayed firm. His face hovered inches above yours. His eyes bore into you searching and deciphering any signs, or tells, that meant regret. He couldn’t. He only saw hope, hope that this wasn’t a fantasy, hope that you could finally love and cherish him as you believed he deserved.

His eyes slid down to your lips, so soft and waiting so patiently. He swallowed a nervous lump in his throat. His eyes flickered back, locking with yours. “I want this, but tell me,” he whispered desperately; his hand now wrapped around the back of your neck holding you firmly, realizing he didn’t want you to run away now, “tell me you want this. I - I just need to hear you say it.”

You hesitantly reached up, touching the side of his face. His chin was slightly prickly unlike his usual kempt appearance. Your hand traced upwards, threading through his blonde locks - that nearly covered those beautiful rustic red eyes of his. “I want this,” you breathed out. “I want you, scars and all.”

Rosinante crashed his lips against yours. He claimed your lips, pouring all this untapped love into it. He wanted - needed - you to know how much you meant to him, how much he wanted this, and how long he had deprived himself of it. His lips parted, darting his tongue along your lips pleading for entrance. You shakily parted your lips, still surprised this was truly happening. Rosinante hummed, slipping his tongue inside. You whimpered faintly. With your head tipped all the way back to accommodate his height, you were truly at his mercy.

And you loved it.

He eagerly explored your mouth, swirling his tongue wanting to taste every part of you. You clung to him, feeling your knees about to buckle. Chocolate and hints of nicotine blossomed over your tongue. His tongue commanded your attention, yet so did his hands. His dexterous hands glided down your body. He awkwardly hunched forward, but he didn’t mind. He had you, he could hold you, touch you. His hands greedily roamed over you, mapping out the curves and lines of your body. He sneakily cupped your rear and thighs, making you gasp. Rosinante smirked against your lips. A quick squeeze and jerk urged you to jump.

And you did.

The ex-marine lifted you up quite easily. Your legs wrapped so wonderfully around his waist, and you threw your arms over his shoulders. However, he couldn’t make it quite far. Taking only a few steps, he stumbled into the wall. You were far too distracted by his lips and touch, you hadn’t noticed his quick reaction: one of his hands cradled your head, protecting it from the wall.

He pulled away from your lips, mumbling, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you panted.

He smiled, wide and beautiful, making his eyes crinkled in an adorable way. He was enthralled with you, and this moment. How could you truly be here in his arms, in his grasp? It was a dream, a dream he didn’t want to ever end. “Can we keep going?” He asked, nudging his nose against yours.

“Please,” you answered.

He captured your lips again, but slower. He wanted to memorize the shape and feeling of your lips. There was precision to his movements, a dance. The ex-marine knew how to maintain control, and how to draw everything out. Each stolen breath, each push and pull of his lips, each slow drag of his tongue, each teasing nibble left you clinging to him.

One of his hands slipped under your shirt, skimming up your back. You shivered at his cool calloused fingers. He murmured, “Soft.”

His fingertips drew nonsensical patterns, or so you thought. He purposefully drew hearts and spirals, carving his unspoken love. His hand moved upward before dragging his blunt nails across your back. He so desperately wished to mark your skin, to put his scar on you.

“Can I take off your shirt?” He begged into your swollen lips.

You didn’t answer. Using the wall as leverage, you haphazardly wiggled out of your shirt and tossed it randomly onto the kitchen floor. Excited and dazed, you didn’t bother to wait for him to ask about your bra. You unhooked it, adding it to the pile. His eyes widened, staring down at your breasts with his slightly mouth agape.

Fuck, this is really happening, he thought.

You nervously bit your lip. Your mind began to second guess his silence.

Shit, did I go too far? What if he didn’t -

Rosinante quickly hoisted you higher up then craned his head down. His lips wrapped perfectly around your breast, sucking on it. You sighed, arching your back to better help him. Your fingers slipped into his hair, holding his head close. Heat pooled in the pit of your stomach. His tongue circled around your nipple. Your lips and mouth had just learned his sensual dance. Every swipe of his tongue, your body shuddered. He teasingly nipped at the bud, making you gasp. He removed his mouth with an audible ‘pop‘ like he wanted you to know how good you tasted, how much it pained him to break away. Yet, he couldn’t neglect the other. He kissed along your chest, hungrily capturing your other breast.

“Rosi,” you breathed out.

Fuck, he loves how that sounded. How could his name send such intense pleasure skyrocketing through his body? His cock jumped in his pants. Gods, he needed to hear it again, and again, and again. His hands squeezed your ass both trying to hold himself back and as if you forced it out of you.

And it worked.

You whimpered.

Faint, yet so sweet.

Pulling away from your breasts, he rested his forehead against yours. Your chests heaved in an odd symphony. The thinnest space separated your lips, your shared breaths mixed together. His air was yours and your air was his, souls were mingling in such close proximity. His eyes shone, all his emotions now officially and completely bare.

No, more hiding. No more denying.

He stole your lips once again, unable to get enough of them. Humming, you arched your back, pressing your now spit covered breasts into him. The tiny bit of friction of your perked nipples across his rough shirt sent sparks of pleasure down your spine. However, and unfortunately, he broke the kiss far too quickly. You eagerly chased after his lips, needing them. Rosinante hid his amused smile. He kissed down your neck, swiping that devious tongue of his over your sensitive skin. He whispered, “You taste like sugar.”

“I - ah - I may have made a mess earlier,” you admitted. “Butter and sugar got everywhere.”

He chuckled. He wanted to say he expected no less from his sweetheart. Sweetness seemed to always pour from you, and he always wanted to drink from you - to always have a taste. For a fleeting moment, he contemplated taking you here. He could lay you across the kitchen island, pour honey across your skin, especially your breasts, and have his way with you. But, he shelved such an idea.

Not today, another time, he promised himself.

“Upstairs?” He asked into your neck.

“Up - fuck.” Rosi nipped at your skin, gently sucking and soothing the spot. His lips curled into a smirk, a smirk you felt burned into your skin. Your head tipped back into the wall as he continued his sweet assault. How could such a kind, sweet man be so conniving, so sly?

“What was that, sweetheart?” He teased in a low tone.

“Upstairs.” You breathlessly added, “Please.”

“Of course.” He pushed off the wall, delicately carrying you up the stairs.

However, since he was so focused on carrying you, you decided to return such delightful favors. You started by peppering his face in adoring kisses from his cheeks, to his nose, then his lips.

He chuckled with a growing smile, “Sweet girl, you need to stop or I might trip.”

“We’ll be fine,” you brushed him off.

Your lips trailed soft butterfly kisses along his prickly jaw and down his neck. Your sweetness turned sinister. You placed a single open mouth kiss on the crook of his neck. He let out a soft pleased sigh. Your teeth then grazed over his skin. His grip on you tightened. You lightly bit him, feeling a shudder run through his body. Smirking, you sucked - viciously and without remorse - on a sensitive spot ensuring you left your mark on him.

His reaction was perfect. He groaned and stumbled backwards into the wall by his bedroom door. The thud resonated through the still home, so much so a few pictures wobbled on the wall threatening to fall. “Shit,” he hissed.

You continued your attack listening to his heated swears under his breath. Once you felt satisfied, you pulled away, eyeing your red spot with a triumphant grin. It will only darken with time, a lovely reminder. Looking into his eyes, they were blown wide with lust and desire which mirrored your own. Smirking, you teasingly nipped his bottom lip. He swore again. Using one hand, he brought your head closer, attacking your lips with new energy. He pried himself off the wall and rushed into his bedroom. He used his muscle memory stumbling and swaying into the room until his shins hit the edge of his bed. Carefully, he laid you down on his sheets.

So gentle, so delicate.

His lips skimmed down to your heaving chest, between your breasts and to your hips. His fingers followed after his lips, tracing down your sides. Your breath stuttered at his feathery touches. His breath fanned over your lower stomach, hitting the waistband of your pants. His eyes flickered up, peering through his eyelashes.

“Can I?” He whispered in such a loving tone.

You nodded, unable to muster up a single syllable.

He undid the buttons of your pants and tugged them down while you lifted your hips to help. He bit the inside of his cheek. So beautiful. His hands traveled up your legs, squishing your thighs. She’s really here. He then spread your legs a bit, and didn’t miss the dark wet patch on your underwear. His chest burned with desire knowing he was responsible. His finger hooked around the band of your underwear. If he could, he would have torn them off already.

“Can these go next,” he asked, continuing to ensure he had your consent with every step.

Your heart skipped. “Y-yeah.”

He pulled them off as calmly as possible, and tossed them aside. Your cunt was dripping. He swore his mouth started to water. Swallowing, he silently drank in your figure, still reeling you were here. He wanted to ravish you, he wanted to make love to you, he wanted to do it all.

However, for you, the silence pressed on for too long. His blank stare morphed into disinterest in your mind. Insecurities bubbled up as it dawned on you how you were now completely naked before him. Your hands covered your chest and you snapped your legs closed.

What am I -

Rosinante’s eyes widened at your sudden change. He immediately climbed onto the bed, over top of you, and removed your hands from your chest. “Please, don’t,” he breathed out. “I - I’m sorry … you’re just so beautiful.”

Your cheeks and chest flooded with heat. You quickly turned your head to the side, hiding.

He cupped your cheek, turning your head back to him. “You are. Please don’t hide from me.”

His soft expression and kind smile eased back the fears. You slowly nodded.

“Good. Here, it’s only fair.” He leaned back and removed his shirt, adding it to the pile on his floor.

Your breath hitched. Your eyes darted all over, taking him all in. So many scars. You propped yourself up on your elbow, reaching out. You carefully traced over each of them, outlining the rigids and harsh ragged shapes. Rosi watched you intensely. A shiver ran down his spine. You were so delicate, as if he were made of glass. Your face filled with some kind of concentration, one he didn’t fully understand.

You asked softly, “Can … can you flip over?”

Stunned a bit, yet Rosi complied. He rolled onto his back into the squeaky mattress. You swiftly straddled his hips. Before he could ask, you bent down kissing one scar by his ribs. His heart leapt up into his throat. You then methodically kissed every single scar - no matter the size nor how gnarly it appeared - all over his chest. You finished your endeavor by kissing the one near his heart, an almost fatal hit. His heart thrummed beneath your lips, and you felt the elated vibrations. You peered up to see his cheeks flushed a rosy red and his lips parted as he tried to calm his breathing. You had rendered this man - this near mammoth of a man - into an utter mess. He was putty under such touches, touches he had long deprived himself of.

You smiled, resting your cheek against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, a beat which your heart harmonized with. “I’m sorry, did I -“

“Don’t.” He let out a shaky exhale. “Don’t apologize. I - I just wasn’t expecting that.”

Your hand followed the curve of his chest to a scar on his right shoulder. You, once again, traced the shape. Rosi shuddered. At his reaction, a thought suddenly dawned on you. “Rosi, are your scars sensitive?”

He rubbed a hand over his face, mumbling, “Just a bit.”

Noted.

You held back a devious smirk. Sitting up, you placed your hands on his chest. Your nails raked down.

Maybe I could have some fun -

Rosi’s hands suddenly gripped your hips. He yanked you all the way up his body. A sharp gasp left your lips. Your hands flung out and collided with the wall for support. Your eyes - wide and somewhat confused - dropped down. You now straddled over his face, your knees on either side. His hands wrapped around your thighs and squeezed, letting the fat pool between his fingers. Most importantly, his grip indicated one thing: he was unwilling to let you go.

“Fuck.” He groaned, looking up at your dripping cunt like it was a meal.

Your heart sped up, “Wait, Rosi - I -“

“Sweetheart, I dreamt of this so many times,” he whispered. His breath, each puff of air, sent jolts through your body. “Please, can I have this?”

No one had begged before.

Trying and failing to keep your voice steady, you stuttered out, “I, uh, y-yes - ah!”

Rosinante eagerly yanked you down, unable to wait another second. Humming, his lips wrapped around you. The tip of his tongue swept over your folds, collecting and tasting you. Sparks burst through you.

“Rosinante,” you moaned. How could one single motion left you so vocal?

He smirked at your reaction as he weaved a spell over you. He moaned as he started devouring you. His tongue teasingly traced your folds. You shuddered. He did it once, twice, then pushed his tongue inside of you. He curled his tongue, hitting your spongy walls. You whimpered. Your hands balled up into fists, clawing at the wall. His tongue - long and thick - moved with precision. His age and experience truly showed in his moment. He knew how to work it, how to render you in his beautiful mess.

He hummed. The wondrous vibrations made you moan loudly and unabashedly. A noise you never expected you to make. One of your hands instinctively shot down and latched onto his hair. Mindless on your growing pleasure, you tugged on his strands, making him groan. More vibrations, more dizzying sensations, more of your juices coated his lips and face.

Rosinante nearly rolled his eyes back. Fuck, this was better than his measly dreams. His cock twitched in his pants at each of your sounds. And gods if you tasted and felt this amazing just around his tongue, then how would it feel to be buried inside of you? Precum spilled in his pants at the mere thought.

Pleasure built deep in your stomach. As his tongue expertly moved and curled in and out of you, you lowered yourself more and greedily rocked your hips to chase after the pleasure. He moaned. His fingers dug harshly into your thighs, possibly leaving bruises.

“That’s it, sweetheart, ride my face,” he purred.

Shit.

Rosinante’s eyes darkened. Your walls fluttered around his tongue at his blunt words. He watched your head tip back as a sweet whimper hummed in the back of your throat.

“Dirty girl,” he murmured with a devious smirk.

His words added to the insatiable heat burning you from the inside out. You bit your lip, trying to hold back the pornogrpahic moans daring to escape. He continued to watch, unwilling to tear his gaze away. He loved how your breasts bounced, tempting him to feast on him again, how your back curled so elegantly, how your thighs slowly squeezed around him minimizing his world so it was you and you alone, and how your hips stuttered losing concentration at his words, his pet names, and his merciless tongue.

“Look at me, sweetheart,” his voice was low and commanding, drawing up such a tone from his former marine days.

You shakily glanced down at him. Your eyes drooped with lust and desperation, your chest heaved gulping down air, and your mouth hung open as whimpers and moans poured out. To him, you were picture perfect, a sight to behold and cherish.

He turned his head, kissing your thigh. “Good, now can you lean forward for me?”

With a tiny nod, you tipped your hips forward.

”That’s it, good girl.”

Your whole body pulsed. Such praise, such simple words shouldn’t set your body ablaze, and yet you nearly crumble. You already wanted to hear that honey tone pour from his lips again.

His lips wrapped around your swollen clit, sucking on it. You inhaled sharply. His hand then caressed down between your thighs. It trailed down with such a light tough until one of his slender fingers dragged slowly through your soaked lips. You lurched at the feeling. He gingerly pushed his finger in. You shut your eyes tight and bit your lip, almost drawing blood. His finger moved painstakingly slow, both wanting to be careful yet also wanting to tease you closer to that edge.

“More,” you begged, already pushing your hips back. “Please.”

Rosinante happily and easily added a second finger. The wet sounds echoed in the room from him hungrily sucking and licking at your clit, to his fingers being drenched in your juices. It was all too much. You pressed your forehead into the wall, closing your eyes. It held all of your support. You were panting, nearly drooling as pleasure claimed your whole body.

Fuck, Rosinante could come at the sight of you like a horny teenager. His cock ached to be free, to be buried within your walls, to be stroked by your delicate fingers, to be wrapped around your tongue, or perhaps to be smushed between your breasts. He wanted it all. But, he also wanted this. He needed this just as much as you did. His pleasure can wait, he wanted to devote all his energy onto you. He hummed again.

Another moan fell off your lips.

Cracking open your eyes, you were greeted with Rosinante’s red glowing eyes beneath you. He then kissed your clit, softly as if giving one a kiss on the cheek, and cooed, “Be a good girl and come all over my face.”

“Fuck,” you swore. He chuckled, a rich laugh. He crooked his finger, hitting a certain spot. You gasped, seeing stars. “T-There, fuck, right there.”

Rosi immediately zoned onto that spot. His fingers bullied into you with new purpose. Each curl, scissoring, of his fingers snatched your breath away. His tongue and mouth, however, could not be forgotten either. He sucked and swirled his tongue, guiding you closer to the edge. You tightened your grip on his hair, nails scraping along his scalp. And he could only moan. Pleasure and pain tangled so well together.

You mewled, “Rosi, I - I about to come.”

“Give it to me,” he growled.

The pressure built and built, and you quickly abandoned all caution and care. You began to grind back on his fingers, practically humping his face. A fog was casted over your mind, only able to think of your pleasure. Rosinante moaned, fueling your end.

Yes, use me, he thought.

A few more pumps of his slender fingers, mixed with his constant attack on your clit, you cried out his name gushing all over his face. The edges of your vision blurred with stars. Rosinante swiftly pulled out his fingers and greedily drank you up. He groaned, enjoying every drop. He feasted until your legs were shaking, ready to topple over and you were whimpering and jerking from the intense overstimulation.

He thankfully - and finally - stopped. He lifted you up and off his face, laying you down on the bed. He then littered your heavy tired body with kisses as you came back to your senses. He kissed your cheek then forehead. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you muttered, tossing him a lopsided smile. “I’m good.”

Great. Fantastic. Amazing.

He smiled, giving you a short kiss. He continued his conquest kissing down your neck and chest. You sighed dreamily, threading your fingers through his hair. Your desires, however, were being reignited by every kiss. You still craved more, you wanted him all.

“I want you,” you whispered softly.

He lifted his head with some hesitancy behind his eyes. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” You hadn’t been more sure in your life.

“Ok,” he smiled, giving you a quick peck on your lips.

Standing up, you finally could drink in the full sight of him. The years had been so kind to him. He was like a Greek god: golden hair kissed by Apollo and Helios, a rugged physique that battled Ares’s, a booming laughter rivaling Zeus’s own thunder, a voice so rich and luscious like ambrosia poured directly from Dionysus’s cup, and all of it wrapped together and blessed by Aphrodite’s touch.

He was beautiful, more than beautiful he was ethereal.

He tugged down his pants, along with his boxers. Your eyes trailed down to chest, to his stomach, to the thin patch of darker blonde strands to his hard cock - long and thick, matching his already intimidating height. His tip red and swollen as precum leaked out, a sign of your effect on him.

You swallowed nervously.

Would he fit?

Rosinante’s ego inflated at your stunned reaction. He kicked aside the clothing, unfortunately his clumsy curse returned momentarily. Getting tripped up, he toppled sideways, crashing to the ground. You immediately sprung up. Before you could think to ask if he was okay, he propped himself up. His cheeks flushed slightly with embarrassment. He huffed, resting his chin on the edge of the bed.

Smooth, he sarcastically thought to himself.

You bit your lip then bursted out into laughter. You know you shouldn’t, yet you shouldn’t have expected anything less. He perked up, and smiled at your infectious laugh. You crawled over to him, sitting back on your knees. You cupped his face, bending down kissing him softly. Pulling away, Rosinante looked at you as if you brought upon his salvation, as if you were an oasis in the desert of his life.

“Are you okay?” You asked, still concerned about him.

“Yeah,” he smiled.

“Good.”

Still holding his face, you gently drew him with you, urging him back on the bed. He listened to your silent command. You fell backward, scooting up the bed while he slowly crawled over top of you.

“Are you sure?” He repeated.

You threw your arms over his shoulders, bringing him down. “Yes, I want you. Like I said, scars and all.”

His heart melted. He kissed your nose. His hand slid down your side, sending ripples of anticipation. He guided your leg over his hip. He gave your thigh a quick reassuring squeeze. He will happily take the lead in this dance, he will ensure you are cared for. There will be no misstep.

He lowered his hips, brushing the tip of his cock over your dripping folds. You shivered at the size and warmth of him. He teasingly rubbed through your folds and over your clit, enjoying how his precum mixed with your first orgasm. Your nails sunk into his skin. Crescent shapes adorned his body with more marks to come.

“We’ll take it slow, ok?” He whispered.

“Ok,” you mumbled, beginning to lose yourself all over again.

He reached down grabbing the base of his cock, and slowly pushed the head of it in. You bit the inside of your cheek. It stung. The stretch was unlike anything you had experienced or felt.

“Talk to me, sweetheart,” he spoke, reading your expression and feeling the tenseness of your body.

You panted, ”Keep going.”

You wanted this.

Listening, he pushed in further. A sharp hiss left your lips. You clawed at his back, red ribbons added to the jagged pale scars. Rosinante almost stopped, fearfully he was hurting you too much.

“Don’t stop,” you begged. The sting had begun to subside as pleasure whisked you away.

Rosinante again listened to you. He may lead this dance but he had a partner he must be attentive too. You whimpered, shutting your eyes and adjusting to his size. Your heel dug into the meat of his calf, pleading him to keep going. With one final push, Rosinante was completely in filling you to the brim. He panted heavily over top of you. He watched as your face contorted from minor pain to absolute pleasure. Opening your eyes, you were met with pure unfiltered love, a culmination of months upon months of locked feelings, of denial and heartache.

It was finally all unburden, and unchained.

Breathless, you both stared at each other unmoving. Neither of you could. You both desperately wanted to stay here, to preserve such a memory and feelings. He filled you, your senses utterly overwhelmed by the sensation of him. And your body welcomed him in return.

It was as if you were made for each other.

Rosinante hid his face in your shoulder, exhaling shakily. Shit, I feel like I could come right now.

“I’m going to move now,” he grunted into your neck.

“Please.”

Taking a deep breath, he slowly moved his hips. His thick cock dragged through your walls before thrusting back in.

You whimpered.

“I got you,” he whispered. “If anything hurts, tell me.”

“Just - just please don’t stop.”

He let out a breathy chuckle. His hips increased in speed, spurring stars to burst in the corners of your eyes. Your mouth hung open as a silent moan spilled out. His cock stretched and filled you leaving nothing but pleasure in its wake. You wrapped your other legs around his hip, clinging to him. You were immediately becoming drunk and desperate on such pleasures. And Rosinante wanted to give you everything, to have you consumed by pleasure. He curled over you, pressing his forehead against yours. Lifting your hips, he hit a new angle, deeper and far more intimate.

“F-Fuck, Rosi,” you moaned. You clawed harshly at his back. An apology sat on your tongue, but every thrust left you mewling. You could only babble his name or curses.

Rosinante glanced down, seeing your stomach bulge at the size of his cock. “S-Shit, sweetheart,” he moaned. “You’re taking me so well. Look.”

You peered down. The debauchery sight left you speechless. His hips slapped deliciously against yours. Your stomach bulged every time his cock disappeared back in. And when he pulled out, you saw how his cock was slick and coated with your mixed juices. Not to mention at this new angle, the tuft of his snail trail rubbed wondrously against your clit only furthering your pleasures.

Fuck.

Whimpering, your head fell back into the bed. You bucked your hips, matching his thrusts. Rosinante whimpered, almost unnoticeable. “Fuck, just like that.”

He grabbed your hands, prying them off his back and pinning them to the bed. His fingers interlocked with yours, and squeezed your hands. He captured your lips, kissing you sweetly and pouring all of his love into it. His mouth, his hands, were passionate, and yet his hips were so sinful. The trio constantly stole your breath, leaving you in such a messy state.

Breaking the kiss, he smiled down at you. Still boyish, despite the years on him. Hearts danced in his eyes, and you knew you were the same. Every movement, every thrust, every shared breath, every touch - no matter how minuscule - was written with love.

And he was beginning to love watching you squirm on his cock.

He bent his head, taking one of your nipples in his mouth. Your eyes rolled back. The stretch of his cock, the grinding on your clit, the swirl of his tongue on your breast, each sensation brought you closer and closer to the edge. Each delicious friction melted your mind, and your body could only react. Your own well-timed thrusts started to waver as desperation sunk into your bones.

You whined faintly, “Rosi, so close.”

He popped off your breast. “I know, sweetheart, come on. Come around my cock.”

You shivered, lolling your head to the side.

“Be my good girl,” he purred into your ear, rolling his hips. “Come on, sweet girl, come on my cock.”

Your walls fluttered around him, warning him. He gritted his teeth, holding back his own pleasure. He needed to feel you come first. He snapped his hips with new fever, hitting the perfect spot. You gasped loudly. Blinding pleasure covered your senses. Rosinante saw your beautiful reaction and continued to hit the same spot over and over. His pace was unwavering, he needed to see and feel you come.

“Make a mess on me,” he moaned.

You tightened your grip on his hands, digging your nails into him. You squirmed and writhed on his cock. You whimpered as your orgasm approached quickly. Rosinante groaned in your ear, whispering such sinful things. You bucked your hips up just as he snapped his hips, and it all came crashing down.

Shutting your eyes tight, you walls clamped down as you cried out his name. He kissed you, swallowing up your moans and cries. He then kissed your cheek where a tear glided down, to your forehead, and finally nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. “I got you, sweetheart.”

His hips continued to pump into you, letting you ride out your orgasm. It was a beautiful sight. Your body convulsed as pleasure consumed you and as each additional pump stole your breath. Your eyes fluttered open to see your god still hovering above you, giving you everything.

But, it was his turn now.

“Fill me,” you muttered weakly drunk on pleasure.

“W-What?” Rosinante’s eyes widened and his hips stuttered at your words.

Freeing your hands, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. You dragged him down pecking his lips. “I want to feel you, Rosi,” you whispered.

His cock twitched inside of you.

“Please,” you begged softly. You arched your back, trying to take him deeper. Your hands glided down his back, pressing into his chest. Your hands roamed touching his scars, the ones you had memorized only moments ago. Your thumb grazed over his nipple, making him hiss. You nibbled on his ear, “Fill me, Rosi.”

His jaw clenched. He kissed you heatedly, pushing his tongue inside to re-explore your mouth. His large hands grabbed your hips, most likely bruising them in the process. But, you didn’t mind. He guided your hips, matching his new pace with more vigor and unrestraint. You moaned, drawing your nails down his chest.

A mere taste of this side of him was addicting. He could be loving, but he could be a monster. A monster you wished to learn in full some day.

Abandoning all his resolve, he pumped wildly into you. He couldn’t help it. Your words let a fire inside of him, and he had been holding back for so long. He muttered out an apology, afraid he might be hurting you. Yet, you took it all. You smiled up at him as he used you.

“Please, Rosi, I want to feel you,” you moaned.

He shuddered. Fuck, how could someone so sweet be so sinful? With a few more deep thrusts, he came, moaning out your name. He slowed down his pace until he buried himself deep within you, coating your walls.

Just like you asked.

Taking a second, you both stared at each other sweaty and out of breath. Rosinante carefully removed himself, and you squirmed at the abrupt emptiness. He rolled off of you, flopping onto the bed. But, he snatched you up, bringing you with him. You yelped, surprised by it. He settled you onto his chest, and your shock vanished. Sigh deeply, you nuzzled into his chest savoring this moment. A lazy smile tugged at the corners of your lips, listening to how his heartbeat slowly evened out. His fingers soon skimmed up and down along your spine.

It was peaceful, it was heavenly.

You each shared one thought: mine. Each of you unbeknownst to the other swore the same vow, to always make sure the other smiled and is to be loved for eternity. Perhaps, later down the road, such vows will be spoken aloud. But for now, you kept these secret promises to both of your chests.

Unfortunately, serenity was short lived for you. A thought, a more drastic one, occurred to you. Lifting your head, you nervously said, “Rosi? I - I think there’s still one thing we should at least talk about.”

He hummed, peering down at you.

“… like how are we going to tell the others? Especially Law?”

Rosinante flinched. He sighed heavily. His arms wrapped around you, firmly drawing your head back down. “We can worry about that later, I just want to stay right here a bit longer.”

You smiled, cheeks warm. You buried your head back into his chest whispering, “Ok.”

Your eyes spotted a scar near your face, specifically the one by his heart. You began to trace over it, memorized by the feeling and knowing you alone could do this.

“I like them,” you admitted quietly.

His heart skipped. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out. “It means you survived and you’re here.”

With me.

He gave you a gentle squeeze. His lips brushed over your hair, kissing the top of your head. “And I promise I won’t go anywhere.”

Closing your eyes, you smiled and kissed his scar. “Good.”

*****

“Law, please!”

Law huffed as Evelyn tugged on the back of his shirt. She had called him after his shift, asking him to come over. He wanted to go home, and into his bed, but she kept insisting. He agreed, however, as time dragged on doing little to nothing at her home, he decided to leave.

And for some reason, she decided to join him.

She begged the whole time to turn the car around, to go somewhere else, but he kept on driving home. He didn’t care, she could catch a ride back to her own home. Once parked, Law hopped out of his car, marching up the driveway with her bizarrely pleading.

“Look, I’m tired and …,” he paused, spotting a familiar car. One he didn’t see at her home, but oddly was parked here. “Why is she here?”

Eve flinched.

Law peered over his shoulder, staring down at her. But, she avoided his piercing gaze. He glared at her obvious guilty expression. She knew something. “What do you know?”

She blurted out, “Nothing!”

He tsked, “Lair.”

Law shook off her grasp then opened the front door. Stepping in, Eve quickly darted around trying to push on his chest but to no avail. Law walked further into the home. He didn’t see anyone, and nothing was out of the ordinary.

“Where …,” his voice trailed off when he stepped into the kitchen. His eyes instantly spotted something on the floor: a shirt and bra.

Eve whipped her head around. Her eyes widened at the pair of clothing, both shocked and happy for you.

Law’s face, however, scrunched up in disgust at the thought of what his dad had been doing. He huffed, clicking his tongue, “Idiots better not have done anything in the kitchen.”

Scanning the floor, he luckily couldn’t find any pants which brought some relief. Sighing, he spun around, heading back towards the front door.

Eve blinked, “Wait, you’re leaving?”

“Do you want to stay and find them?” He asked, raising his eyebrow.

She blushed, “Um, no … not really.”

“Figured, now let’s go.” He glanced back at her. “You can buy me dinner.”

She gasped, “I will not.”

“I’m driving, so either you stay here and find them or you pay.”

She pouted and grumbled, following after him. However, Evelyn sent you a kind thought as she left.

I’m happy for you.

#one piece #donquixote rosinante #corazon #one piece corazon #one piece rosinante #op rosinante #rosinante corazon #donquixote corazon #donquixote rosinante x reader #rosinante x reader #corazon x reader #fem!reader #afab!reader #x reader #smut

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senzasord · 1 month ago

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More spoiler thoughts on the allegory

I want to tread very carefully around this because it is a serious topic, but some of the subtler things are occurring to me about the Palestine-allegory in the episode.

Kid - the person planning the terrorist act is literally named Kid, and is explicitly explained to have been named this because his mother was killed before she could name him. I think how the episode delivered this was kind of clumsy, but I think it was a powerful choice to have this character - driven to extremes because his people have been genocided and then covered up - is Kid. Is a kid. This is a kid. A desperate kid. His actions are not being condoned, but they are put into a very clear context.

Cora's song - again, kind of clumsy (but very powerful scene; I almost cried). I think a surface interpretation of the scene is that it unfortunately kind of implied that the two choices were terrorism or benign appeal. BUT what I think it was /trying/ to say was this group of people need allies. It wasn't just that Cora revealed herself and self-advocated in a pretty dress, it was that the hosts undermined the corporation that was funding their spectacle by giving her screen time to appeal to 3 trillion people. It wasn't the end of the fight, but the start. And an indictment of the real song contest in our world that would never allow such a thing.

The Doctor torturing Kid - again, treading very cafefully here, but I think this is a second allegory within the episode. The Doctor, a member of a genocided group, taking his rage out on someone who has been disarmed. Not okay. And the narrative doesn't frame it as okay, regardless of what Kid was about to do. And more importantly, the narrative shows us that he needs someone to stop him. His actions are not okay and someone needed to stop him. Again, not perfectly presented, not a perfect allegory - and not meant to be a one-to-one allegory either, obviously. But I saw comments in the tags about how it was uncomfortable watching the doctor torture someone like that and - yes, it was. Because it was supposed to be.

I said in my other post that the episode was trying to be obvious and have plausible deniability at the same time, and I think that's a good thing. That's not the part that had issues. Because if it was OBVIOUS obvious, then you get things like Kill the Moon, and Kerblam!, and whatever that weird episode with Bill and the weird consent aliens were. If it was so on the nose as to be like these episodes, it would fail. You want the allegory to be imperfect, because in the gap is where you get the critique of the real world. Why does Rylan let Cora sing? Because the real Eurovision would never. Why does Belinda stop the Doctor? Because no one has stopped Israel. It just means in those gaps too, it's going to be clumsy, and that's where we can critique the episode too.

I hope this was respectful. Again, it's a very serious topic, and I wanted to approach it with that in mind. But I think my interpretations of these plot points are supported by the text, and therefore add to the point it's trying to make.

There's so much more in this episode to expand on too - we haven't even talked about the honey poppy thing, or the banning of Hellions from competing, or so many other little indictments of the Song Contest that mirror or reference the real world one. But those were the three things that have really jumped out at me that I haven't seen anyone really discuss, and I wanted to float the idea that maybe these things were on purpose, and that maybe in them we find a stronger thesis for the episode that what we see at first glance.

#doctor who #doctor who spoilers #the interstellar song contest #this is such a serious subject #i hope i was respectful

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rafeysbangs · 6 months ago

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lachesism , rafe cameron ( series ) 02

pairing ; brother's!bsf!rafe x kook!female!reader

content ; mdni !! outerbanks au, eventual smut, angst, violence, underage drinking, family issues, substance abuse, s/a.

summary ; rafe cameron is everything you can’t stand; reckless, infuriating, and too self-assured for his own good. as your brother’s best friend, he’s always been a constant presence, one you’ve done your best to ignore. but the tension between you has always simmered just beneath the surface, sharp and impossible to ignore. you’ve spent years resisting his pull, refusing to give him the satisfaction. but in a world where lines blur and control slips away, you’re forced to face the truth: rafe cameron isn’t so easy to hate after all.

status ; ongoing .ᐟ

✺ navigation ; 001. 002. 003.

TWO, reluctant waves.

THE HEAT WAS OPPRESSIVE.

the sun already climbing high in the sky when you and cora made your way out to the pool that morning. the kind of summer warmth that seemed to seep into every pore of your skin, making the air feel thick and heavy. you dipped a toe into the water, feeling the coolness spread up your leg, and sighed in relief. you had been trying to forget about the events of the night before, but the memory of rafe still lingered in the back of your mind, like a low hum you couldn't shake.

cora, on the other hand, was more than happy to let it all go. she had a way of pushing past discomfort, of embracing whatever came her way without a second thought. it was one of the things you admired about your best friend, though today, you just wished cora would let her wallow in peace.

"i swear, you need to just relax," cora said, tossing her towel over a chair and diving into the pool with a graceful splash. "you've been in your head all morning. let's just forget about everything."

you sighed again, letting your body slip deeper into the water. you could feel the coolness of the pool surrounding you, but it didn't do much to settle your mind. the night before, with its awkwardness and the whole rafe bullshit, still clung to your thoughts like a shadow.

as you swam a slow lap, you heard footsteps approaching the poolside. you turned, and there was carter, his usual grin plastered across his face.

"hey, guys," he called out, walking down the steps leading to the backyard with his usual ease. "how's the water?"

"perfect," cora answered immediately, floating on her back as she basked in the warmth of the sun.

not feeling as enthusiastic, you just gave a half-hearted smile.

"so," carter continued, leaning against the pool's edge, "i was talking to rafe, and we were thinking—why don't you two come with us today? we're taking the cameron's boat out. my druthers. gonna hit the ocean, do some swimming, a little drinking. the sun's out, so it's perfect boat weather."

your stomach churned at the mention of rafe. you hadn't exactly enjoyed the brief moments you'd spent together on the boat times before - especially considering how much he annoyed you on a regular basis. the idea of spending an entire day with him, stuck out on the water with no escape, was enough to make you cringe.

"i think i'll pass," you said quickly, your voice tinged with irritation. "i'm not in the mood for a crowd today."

cora shot you a look from the other side of the pool, her expression one of mock disbelief. "come on, del. you're not still pissed about last night, are you?"

you didn't answer right away, trying to push away the memory of rafe's obnoxious smirk and the way his presence seemed to fill up the room. but then again, you hated how he could just waltz in and do whatever the hell he wanted without a care for anyone else. you hated how, even after everything, he still managed to get under your skin from time to time.

"i don't really want to spend the day with him," you muttered, but cora wasn't having it.

"you seriously need a break," cora said, swimming closer and propping herself up on the edge of the pool. "it's a hot day, and you're not going to sit around here sulking. we can swim, have a few beers, and pretend we're on vacation for a day. you won't regret it."

you hesitated, the thought of being around rafe turning your stomach. but cora was right, you had been cooped up in your own head for far too long, and the idea of getting out, even just for a few hours, was somewhat appealing.

"fine," you sighed, though you still weren't happy about it. "but don't expect me to make small talk with him."

"deal," cora said, flashing her an impish grin. "and if he starts being a dick, you just leave him to me."

you nodded reluctantly. it wasn't like you could avoid rafe forever, even if you'd like to. you had to admit, the ocean and a few hours of sun might be a welcome distraction.

carter, who'd been listening in from the edge of the pool, grinned. "great, i'll text rafe and tell him to get everything ready. meet you guys at the dock in an hour?"

you gave a half-hearted nod as cora shot up out of the pool, practically bouncing on her heels with excitement.

"we'll be ready," cora said, a wicked glint in her eye as she swam back to the other side of the pool.

you just leaned back against the edge, closing your eyes for a moment. as much as you hated the idea of seeing rafe again, you couldn't deny that the idea of being out on the water was tempting. maybe it would be different this time. maybe being around him wouldn't make you want to throw him off the boat.

you were still trying to convince yourself of that when they got out of the pool, dried off, and threw on your cover-ups.

you only hoped you could make it through the day without letting rafe get under your skin again.

the drive to the docks was quiet, the air in the car thick with unspoken tension. cora kept glancing over at you with a smirk on her face, clearly enjoying how reluctant her best friend was to join the others on the boat. but you weren't going to let it bother you, not today. you needed a distraction, and as much as you hated the idea of spending time with rafe, you couldn't argue with the fact that the ocean and the sun were far better than staying cooped up at home.

when the two of you pulled up to the docks, carter was already waiting for you, his hand resting casually on the side of the boat. you took a deep breath, trying to suppress the anxiety bubbling in your chest. you'd made it this far, you could make it through a few hours on the water.

the boat was already crowded. rafe was lounging at the front, looking completely at ease, a beer in his hand and a lazy grin on his face. topper was sitting beside him, laughing about something, and ruthie - of course - was standing at the edge of the boat, her hands on her hips, looking as though she owned the place. your stomach churned. you couldn't stand ruthie. the girl had a way of making everyone feel small, and somehow, she always seemed to target you with her thinly veiled insults - not that they actually affected you.

"hey, you guys made it!" carter called, his voice cheery as he stepped onto the boat.

"yeah, we made it," cora answered, her tone light but with a small edge of humor. she turned to you, "you gonna come up here and say hi or what?"

you gave her a look before climbing aboard, greeting everyone with a stiff smile. topper waved, and kelce nodded from the other side of the boat, offering a friendly grin. but ruthie didn't acknowledge you at all. you weren't surprised.

you took a seat at the back of the boat, away from most of the others, and tried to relax. you didn't feel like dealing with ruthie's little comments, or rafe's relentless attitude. so, you kept your head down, chatting occasionally with kelce or topper when ruthie wasn't in earshot, and mostly just enjoyed the view of the water and the heat of the sun on your skin.

rafe, however, seemed to be watching you the entire time. you could feel his gaze on you, even when you weren't looking at him. it was unsettling, the way he seemed to stare, like he was trying to figure you out or maybe annoy you on purpose. and, in a way, it worked. your skin tingled where you knew his eyes were on you.

whenever your gaze would meet, rafe's smirk was always there, as though he were daring you to say something, to do something. but you didn't, you wouldn't. cora had warned him earlier, and she had made it clear to you that you didn't have to put up with rafe's bullshit. so you kept your distance, choosing instead to lie back and catch some sun, hoping the peace and quiet of the ocean would be enough to drown out the growing frustration you felt in your chest.

as the hours passed, the boat drifted farther out into the ocean, the sound of waves slapping against the hull the only noise besides their occasional chatter and splash when people decided to jump in. the heat started to fade, the sun beginning to dip low in the sky as they neared the time to head back to the docks.

you were stretched out on the deck, eyes closed, enjoying the peacefulness of the moment. the warm breeze brushed against your skin, and you let yourself get lost in the rhythm of the waves, trying to ignore the fact that rafe was still sitting there, watching you.

but as the sun started to set, rafe couldn't seem to let you be. he moved closer to you, leaning over the edge of the boat with that same cocky, self-assured grin. "you know, it's almost like you're trying to pretend i'm not here," he said, his voice mocking.

you opened one eye, giving him a flat stare. "maybe i am. it's kind of working."

rafe laughed, clearly unbothered. "you're not fooling anyone."

"neither are you," you shot back, not bothering to sit up. "you've been staring at me for hours."

his grin widened, and you could see the challenge in his eyes, the dare to push her buttons. "can't help it. it's not my fault you're so hard to ignore, you're always right there being annoying."

you resisted the urge to roll your eyes, trying to focus on something else. you turned your head away from him and closed both eyes, hoping he'd take the hint and back off. but no such luck.

"you know," rafe continued, leaning in even closer, his voice low and teasing, "you're really good at pretending to be all innocent. but we both know it's all an act. i've seen you when you're not around your parents."

your blood boiled. you opened your eyes and sat up, glaring at him. "shut up."

he raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the rise he was getting out of you. "you want them to think you're soo perfect, what? afraid they'll care for you even less if they knew what you were getting up to when they aren't looking?"

you gritted your teeth. you were done. "fuck off rafe." you snapped, standing up and walking toward the other end of the boat.

cora, who had been watching from the other side, saw the tension and shot rafe a look. but he just shrugged, his smirk never faltering.

you ignored him as you made her way to the side of the boat, staring out at the horizon. the sun had dipped lower, and the sky was a mix of orange and pink, the colours reflecting off the water. you needed this moment of peace, just for a little longer, before you had to deal with rafe again.

as they started heading back toward the docks, rafe stayed on the other side of the boat, wisely keeping his distance. but you could still feel his eyes on you, like a weight you couldn't escape.

when the boat finally got in, the sun had completely set. a dark hue of blue stilled in the sky. you wasted no time in getting the fuck off the boat, cora had to practically run after you.

"going so soon?" rafe called with a chuckle, you shot him the foulest look you could muster before walking back to the car. you were growing increasingly sick of his shit. sure, he'd acted like an ass in the past, for a while now, but it was seriously starting to effect you.

you weren't having it. the anger that had been simmering under your skin all day was bubbling over, and you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing it.

"hey, hold up!" cora called out, catching up with you just as you reached the car. she was out of breath but had that mischievous grin on her face that you knew all too well. "you really gonna let him get under your skin like that?"

"don't start," you snapped, unlocking the car and sliding into the driver's seat. you had no patience left, and honestly, you were done dealing with rafe for the day. "i'm sick of him, cora. he thinks he can just keep poking at me, like it's some kind of game. i'm not gonna stand for it anymore."

cora climbed into the passenger seat, shutting the door with a sigh. "look, i know rafe can be a lot—he's always like that, but you've got to stop letting him get to you. the more you react, the more he's gonna push. just ignore him, okay?"

you started the car, your knuckles white as you gripped the steering wheel. you knew cora was right. but how could you ignore him when he kept saying shit that got under your skin? every time he opened his mouth, it felt like he was digging at something deep inside you, something you didn't want to face.

"it's not that easy," you muttered as you backed out of the parking spot. the lights from the dock faded behind them, and you focused on the road ahead, trying to clear your mind.

cora stayed quiet for a moment, clearly thinking about how best to phrase her next words. "yeah, i get it. it's like he knows exactly where to push. but you can't let him have that power over you. seriously. you're better than that."

you didn't answer right away. you just drove in silence, the hum of the engine and the gentle swish of the tires against the road filling the space between them. you hated how much power rafe seemed to have over your emotions, even without trying. how every word from him made you feel small and defensive. you hated that he could make you feel so exposed, so vulnerable.

"you think i'm weak?" you asked suddenly, your voice quieter now, more subdued than before. you didn't look over at cora, but you could feel your best friend's gaze.

"what? no," cora replied quickly. "i don't think you're weak, not at all. it's just... with rafe, it's like he knows how to get to you. and that's frustrating, i get it. but letting him get under your skin isn't helping."

you pressed your lips together, feeling a knot tighten in your chest. "he makes me feel like i'm always on the edge of something, like i'm about to snap. and i don't even know why. i don't get it."

cora turned toward you, her eyes softening. "maybe it's because he sees you. in a way no one else does. like, he sees through all the walls you've built up around yourself. and it's fucking irritating, yeah. but it's also... real."

you blinked, momentarily thrown off guard by your best friend's words. "he doesn't see anything. he just likes to stir shit up."

"that's part of it, yeah," cora agreed, "but maybe he's more perceptive than you give him credit for. he probably sees the things you're trying to hide, i mean he hides a lot of shit himself... badly though-."

you felt a shiver run down your spine at the thought. you hated the idea that rafe might actually be onto something, might actually see the parts of you that you kept hidden from everyone else. your weaknesses. your insecurities. the cracks you tried to keep covered.

"i don't know," you muttered. "i just wish he'd leave me alone."

cora didn't respond immediately, and you didn't expect her to. what was there to say? that rafe wasn't going to stop being an asshole? that it was just a phase he was going through? you knew better. he was always like this, always pushing your buttons. and maybe, just maybe, it had nothing to do with you at all, it was just the way he was.

by the time they pulled into cora's driveway, the sky was fully dark, the stars scattered across the sky in a quiet, distant show. you put the car in park and sat for a moment, hands still on the wheel. the tension that had been with you all day didn't fade, but for the first time in a while, you weren't sure it would.

"thanks for the ride." cora finally said, her voice drained. "dont think too much okay? he's just some boy."

cora smiled sympathetically before getting out of the car and heading to her front door. you just gave her a reluctant smile back, watching her as she walked away before pulling out of the driveway and getting back on the road. your frustration still hung in the air, thick and suffocating even though the windows were open and the wind whipped through the car . you didn't know how long it would take to shake it off, if you could at all. But for now, you'd just put it out of your mind, at least for the night.

or you thought you could.

it was late, and there you were, laying awake in your cozy bed. nothing could get you to go to sleep, so you rolled over, pulled some tiny pyjama shorts on, grabbed the car keys and headed downstairs.

thankfully the rest of the house was sound asleep, you slid some slides on before quietly slipping out the front door and closing it.

there was only one way you knew for sure you could fall asleep, and unfortunately you had run out a little while ago. you hopped into your car with a sigh and put it into reverse, backing out of the driveway without the headlights on as quickly and quietly as you could.

once on the road, you shook your head slowly, looking at the road you were going on. only the cut had what you needed for your insomnia, only barry. you rapped your fingers on the steering wheel as you neared the trailer park, nerves gathering in your stomach and rising in your throat.

you parked your car a few metres away from the entrance of barry's place, took a deep breath before hopping out of the car and locking it as you walked towards his trailer. you noticed it to be 1:30am as you neared the door, turning the corner of the trailer you swallowed as you trudged up the metal steps and lightly rapped on the door.

it took a few seconds before you heard barry's voice respond, "yea? someone out there or sum'"

"yeah... barry it's y/n- uh, i know its late-" you began, barry swung the trailer door open and marvelled at you with a mischievous grin baring uneven teeth and the bold glint of gold catching the dim trailer light. rap music wafted out from inside the trailer, as well as the sound of someone else inside, sniffing.

"huh, mus' be my lucky night, not one but two of you country club types, come on in sweetheart" he grinned, turning around and walking back in. your brow furrowed slightly, someone you knew maybe? you couldn't place it for a second, but when the realisation hit you, so did the smell of his cologne.

"rafe." you rasped through gritted teeth, taking a deep breath as you then glanced over to a grinning barry. he was rifling through a cupboard, probably already grabbing what you were going to ask for. he was one of the few people that, weirdly, knew you well.

rafe lifted his head from the small powder-covered glass coffee table, sniffing vigorously with a frenzied gleam in his eyes, "funny seeing you here. you can get off your high horse now huh."

your jaw tensed, you knew rafe did drugs on occasion but cocaine on a sunday night? with no one but his drug dealer? you'd always looked past it when someone mentioned him having his vices, it never occurred to you it was actually this bad.

"i'm just getting pot rafe," you retorted, in an attempt to show him how unbothered you were in seeing him nose deep in a mountain of coke at nearly 2am on a now, monday morning. he chuckled a little, still leaning forward with that same gleam in his eye, but when he met your eyes the smile faltered.

you just stood staring at him, growing worry cinching her brows, barry's swift movements interrupted you as he slapped a baggy of weed on the tiny counter. your head snapped over to look at him, "the usual? 4 grams?"

"all there girly, shi' you can check if you want but all you'd be doin' is wastin' our time hmmm?" barry slurred, clearly far from sober as well, probably on something else. you slid the money over to him and he nodded at you with a grin. "you don' wanna blaze up here real quick? ain't like you got anywhere else to be at 2 in the mornin'" he said as he walked back over to rafe, dropping himself down on the worn built in couch seating.

you swallowed thickly, "need this for sleep.." you forced a casual smile, " 'sides, you don't have my lucky lighter here do you?"

barry laughed and shook his head as rafe watched on intensely, "can't say that i do girly, go on then, i'll see you whenever a'ight"

you plastered the sweetest false smile you could and gave him a single wave, calmly leaving the trailer and closing the door behind you before almost jogging back to your car.

you could hear footsteps pressing heavily on the gravel behind you as you sped up, soon yanking the driver's side door open when a hand stretched out against your back.

"y/n- shit, its just me, rafe. fuuuck, you're not even baked an' you're this paranoid?" he chuckled watching the colour come back into your face as you looked him dead in the eyes, angry now. you shoved him in the chest, nearly sending him toppling over backward at the surprise.

"what the fuck rafe! you annoy me? fine. you argue with me every chance you get? fine. you hate me? i hate you too- but don't you ever fucking sneak up on me like that! god!" you gasped, your hand on your head as if to check if you were alright. you looked at the ground as you paced on the spot.

his expression softened slightly, still a shit eating grin across his lips, "so-rry. jesus. look uh, i kinda needa ride home or somethin' its late as hell." he mumbled, scratching the back of his head. you looked at him intensely, he couldn't look you in the eyes, his pupils were all blown out and a thin coat of sweat cloaked his body.

"you idiot. you can't go back home like this, ward'll kill you if he sees you-"

"if he sees me" rafe grinned confidently. you rolled your eyes, "you're so coked out of your mind you dont realise how damn loud you're gonna be. and how damn high you're gonna be for hours rafe. you won't go to bed."

he scoffed a little, "ah- yeah shit, i didn't think about that uh.." you breathed deeply and squeezed your eyes shut. mere hours ago you were wishing to never see rafe, and now, now you were about to offer him sanctuary for once again being a fucking moron.

"okay, look, you can come back to my house. my parents are leaving in like an hour to go on some business trip for like two weeks so they won't see you if we wait a little while." you said, shaking your head momentarily, "however. carter.. he cannot fucking see you like this rafe. i know he doesn't know about the coke 'cause if he did, you wouldn't be coming around so often."

rafe nodded quickly, looking at the ground, "okay okay. so what we're just gonna sit in your car until your parents dip?"

your tongue darted to the inside of your cheek. this was never the plan.

"no. they can't see my car missing so we'll have to sneak up to my room and wait until they've left. but rafe i swear to god i have no problem leaving you here, nor letting my parents find you if you piss me off." you reluctantly said, crossing your arms over your frame.

he put his hands up in defense, "yeah ok ok, i get it narc. let's go then." you rolled your eyes at the name and gestured for rafe to go around to the passenger's seat before hopping into the driver's seat yourself.

the ride back to your house was silent. but not awkward silence, weirdly comforting silence, like a cool summer's night. your mind flicked back to what cora was saying hours ago about rafe seeing you. you glanced at him as he quietly looked out the window, fiddling with his fingers and tapping his foot, and you shook it off.

the two finally pulled up and were quietly stepping through the front door, you whispered over to rafe telling him to keep his shoes on, your parents were pretty perceptive about even minor things.

they stalked up the stairs slowly, you guiding rafe the entire way because of how tall and clumsy he proved to be while high. upon finally making it into your room, you sighed in relief and flopped down onto your bed, throwing the baggy of weed, your keys and your phone down with you.

rafe stood at the door and looked around, he'd never even once seen your room before. it was completely off limits to him, of course it was, you hated each other and you always knew it would be just another tool he'd try and use to make fun of you for. yet there he stood, gazing at the posters and photos on the walls and the vinyl records in the corner as well as at the salt lamp that illuminated the dark room with a dim orange.

you suddenly snapped out of it, realising that the one person you never thought would enter your safe space, was now finding safety in it himself. you braced yourself for some snarky comment about anything at all but he just continued to silently look around. your brow furrowed and you cocked your head to the side and gazed at him, was he somehow... nicer? high?

seconds went by before the sound of your parents quietly departing the house echoed off the walls. a sense of relief washed over you when you heard the front door close and finally their car start.

"you're in the clear. now shoo, go to the guest room you always stay in." you hissed in a low sharp tone. rafe's neck snapped and he looked you dead in the eyes before a tinge of sobriety, and clarity hit him.

he clenched his jaw, "yeah ok. bye."

as soon as your bedroom door shut, you let out a sigh you didn't even know you were holding in. your mind was racing a little, shock from the entire ordeal but mostly from the lack of annoyance and arguing that occurred. by the time you had settled yourself under the covers, you were sleepy enough to drift off. wondering if you pinched yourself, maybe you'd just wake up from this weird dream.

notes ; surpriiiise. double update.

taglist ; @rafegetinmybed @sqfewrd @dreamyy-cloud @vampteeth @wtfisastiles @flvredcas @plaidcowboy @sematarygirls @slut4you @kravitzwhore @daryldixon83 @lexavanhuelee @dorcas4meadowes @foolishangelic @i2rapunzel @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @rafestoothbrush ( lachesism taglist )

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innerfare · 10 months ago

Text

Type of Date - Part 2

Summary: What sort of dates do they take you on?

Characters: Shanks, Beckman, Crocodile, Corazon, Doflamingo, Mihawk, and Smoker

Genre: Fluff

CW: None // SFW

———

Shanks: A carnival or fair for sure. He’ll bet you a kiss you can’t get a higher score than him throwing darts at the balloon board and then proceed to ‘accidentally’ stumble into you when it’s your turn so you have no choice but to kiss him (also the sort to beg you for a kiss on the cheek and then turn his face so you kiss his lips). He’ll buy you cotton candy, funnel cakes, and all sorts of unhealthy confections, insisting he doesn’t want any only to steal big bites of yours. And when he loses at the ring toss, he’ll just steal a stuffed animal prize anyway claiming it’s an ethical crime because those games are rigged. You'll probably end up sitting at a bar for quite a while after having a few too many drinks.

Beckman: I know he doesn’t canonically own a motorcycle but I just really can see him having one and taking you out for a long, evening ride as a date (maybe a canonical equivalent would be him taking you out on the water, but we’re sticking with the motorcycle for now). You maybe end up on a cliffside sitting together on a picnic blanket, sharing a snack and something to drink. He might read to you, or you might just sit in comfortable silence with your head on his shoulder or his in your lap. Might also take you to a bookstore or small coffee shop he's been going to for ages. And wherever you go with Beckman, the two of you always end up watching the sunset together.

Crocodile: Dinner and a show. The dinner will be textbook fine dining, with multiple courses and drinks; he orders for you at the restaurant. And the show will be something a little racy, like cabaret. He’s an asshole about it, too, accepting transponder snail calls in the middle of dinner, his mind on work most of the time. And in the middle of the show, just as it gets to the good part, he’ll step outside to smoke a cigar. If it’s a date he’s a little more present on, he might take you to a casino and teach you how to gamble (i.e., how to cheat at cards).

Doflamingo: He’ll take you shopping first so he can have complete control over what you wear, and he’ll buy you multiple outfits, including shoes and jewelry, to commit you to multiple dates before the first is over. He takes you to dinner afterward and rents out the entire restaurant so it’s just the two of you; he refuses to share you. He might also book a spa day for you both (this man knows how to indulge in the finer things).

Corazon: Cora is all about those classic, romantic dates (especially ones where he doesn’t have to talk if he’s nonverbal in your relationship). He enjoys taking you to small cinemas that screen old films, especially old horror films that are pretty funny due to bad special effects, or else rent out a theatre or take you to the drive-in so you two can have some more privacy; you’ll stay long after the movie is finished and stargaze between kisses.

Mihawk: He’ll take you on a private tour of a winery. You’ll sample expensive wines together and debate various flavors and aging processes (he’ll definitely judge you by your taste in wine). When you’re not in a heated debate, you’ll share light conversation, and after the sun sets, you’ll walk the fields together. He’ll steal a few kisses off you, too, and kiss your hand at the end of the night.

Smoker: He might take you for a late night dinner (super private, super low-key, don’t think for a second he’ll be putting on a real shirt), or he might take you shooting so he can teach you a thing or two. He’ll most definitely stand behind you with his arms around you to correct your stance, and he’ll squeeze your shoulder when he tells you that you did a good job.

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

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zolo-san · 4 months ago

Text

Some thoughts on Law and his image of himself

Law clearly has a lot of conflict around being seen as "good" or a "good guy" I think he want to be a good person, and he actually is, but he doesn't see himself that way, so he has a hard time accepting when people try to suggest that he is good And I think that there are several reasons for that

Law and Survivors Guilt

Law clearly holds a lot of survivors guilt throughout his life and I think it takes a big toll on him When he was younger, not only did he out live his parents and his whole town, but he "failed" to save his little sister as well We see him go out of his way to try to save her specifically, but in the end, he's still not there when she needed him the most The loss of his family also lead him down a path of which he chose to be angry and violent (ooooo we love the stages of grief lol) and take out his feelings of guilt and resentment on others despite being raised by a family of caretakers As a doctor, his father put everything he had into trying to help the people in their town and I think that Law would have looked up to him and wanted to be just like him, but after everything that happened something really broke in him I can't help but think he would feel bad and like he failed again after he moved past the angry violent reaction - just like I think he later felt quite a bit of guilt over stabbing Corazon after the fact Corazon tried everything to save Law and gave everything to him and I think that that too would add to Law's feeling of guilt, especially because it took him so long to realize that he had been too guarded and untrusting to see that Corazon was genuinely trying to help him Once he was able to accept and recognize that, however, Corazon ended up dying shortly after Obviously, Law has a lot of guilt, specifically survivors guilt, surrounding Cora's death Corazon not only risked his life for Law to live, but Law was unable to use his fruit to save him because he didn't know how, then when Law did try to get Corazon help (against Cora's wishes) he managed to "get help" from the wrong person and put Corazon in more danger, leading to his death

Ironically this is not dissimilar to the way his sister died Law had told her to hide while he get help and not only did he not get help, but when he returned, his sister had been killed

I also think that Corazon's confession to Law about being in the navy as he was about to die adds to Law's guilt because he already knew that to be true and I think it hurt him to realize that someone who cared so deeply for him and was literally dying for him still felt bad and was worried he's disappointed him

There's also something to be said about Corazon dying with a smile and the fact that Luffy is also someone who always has a smile on his face, especially when it comes to helping others I think this very much molds the image that Law has of who a "good person" is

Law lived because he knew it was what Corazon wanted for him It was all Law could do for him (I do wonder if there's also some guilt he feels about dedicating the life Cora gave to him to revenge)

Law and Selfishness

I think Law truly sees himself as selfish for many reasons, one being that he was so driven by revenge, and I think he has a tendency to overlook the good that he does because of this

I think he even sees him saving Luffy at Marineford as a selfish act

I think that seeing the efforts that Luffy was going through to save his brother made Law feel that he had failed his sister all over again He would feel that he never tried that hard And I think that it's partly for that reason that he felt compelled to save Luffy

I can't help but feel that Law, without realizing it, was trying to absolve himself of his own "sin" of not saving his sister by saving Luffy I also think the idea of Luffy, after all his efforts failing to save Ace, really broke Law's heart and he couldn't stand the idea of Luffy having to go through something like he did, especially after all the effort Luffy put in

But because of Law's view of himself and his actions as being selfish, I think that Jinbe thanking him for helping Luffy was already too much for him He didn't see his act as selfless or "kind" he saw it as him acting in self interest and I think that's why he tries to present it as such He claims that he essentially saved Luffy because he thought it would be a shame and a waist to let someone with Luffy's potential die then and there, but I think there's so much more to it and I think a lot of it has to do with Law viewing Luffy as an actual good person and something that he's not Law leaves before Luffy can thank him because he doesn't think he deserves thanks

The next we hear of what Law did during the two years that Luffy was training, we hear about his collecting pirates' hearts and becoming a warlord He does this all as part of a plan to exact revenge on Doflamingo and as part of this plan, he leaves his crew behind with no explanation and fully expecting to never see them again (tho he doesn't tell them this) This brings up an interesting fact that even though Law claims he never intended to fight Doflamingo, he also never expected to live through it

I think that Law feels incredibly guilty about leaving his crew behind because he does really care about his crew and I think that lying to them knowing full well he's going on a suicide mission hurts him a lot But I think that despite his choice being fueled by a want to protect his crew, he would feel that it's a selfish choice When he's on Punk Hazard, Law is fully in the throws of pretending to be this other person that he isn't at heart He's trying to be that cold, selfish person he sees himself as, but I don't think he can really do it So I think for this all these reasons, Luffy's mater-of-fact declaration that he is "a good guy" would make Law incredibly uncomfortable I think he sees Luffy as the type of caring, honest, and straight forward person he wishes he could be When he thinks of a good person, he thinks of someone like Luffy - someone like Corazon - who doesn't hesitate to help others at his own risk and would die for his crew and the people he cares about

Luffy obviously shares a lot of traits with Corazon and I don't think that's lost on Law So having someone like that imply that Law is the same as him is something Law can't handle

In addition to this, I think that Luffy's willingness to fight for Law at every turn and his inherent trust in him only adds to Law's feeling of inadequacy next to Luffy And I think that his survivors guilt and the fact that he feels that he's nowhere near as good a person as Luffy are all contributing factors as to why he decides that if Luffy dies fighting for him then he has to die to

I genuinely think that the idea of surviving someone so good like Luffy (and Corazon) again is something that Law cannot handle and cannot allow to happen This is also why I can't help but think that we will see a point where Law attempts to kill himself via his fruit to save Luffy I think Law would rather he die knowing that he insured Luffy's survival than to outlive someone so kind and good Though I think there would be a lot of guilt and conflict here as well I think that whenever we get to this point, it will be abundantly clear to Law that choosing to kill himself for Luffy would also be a selfish act that Luffy would never forgive him for How could he curse Luffy to eternal life knowing that Law died to give it to him?

But regardless of Law's own self image, we see repeated examples of him actually being a good and kind person He has a strong sense of right and wrong and cannot abide injustice, especially the mistreatment of innocent, good people And even if he didn't go about things the best way when he was a kid, this feeling of right and wrong and a need for justice (not in terms of the law but more in terms of karmic, moral justice) was something that was instilled in him at a young age He was taught by his family to care for others in need and to put others before himself And he tries desperately to do so when his town is being erraticated He reaches out to Luffy at Saboady when he sees, in Luffy, the same moral values and the same demand for moral justice and fair treatment of others (something I think is very important to Law given the treatment he faces for his condition as a child) Law then saves Luffy out of compassion for him, whether he's willing to admit that out loud or not He goes out of his way to try to make sure his crew is safe when he goes on his suicide mission to take down Doflamingo and even tries to assure them that everything is fine to ease their concerns When in Dressrosa while he was obviously focused very much on Doflamingo, his plan also helped benefit so many other people in Dressrosa and the world who were suffering because of Doflamingo He also refuses, at every second, to leave Luffy's side and nearly kills himself several times in the process (not to mention taking a beaten and battered Luffy into his care for the second time at his own risk) When they get to Zou, he leaves to get to his crew fairly quickly because he want's to be sure their okay and he accepts their love and happiness at his return with no argument And when Luffy asks him about altering the plan so he can go get Sanji, Law's first thought is of the people of Zou

I think this is partly because he can't stand the injustice of what happened to them, but also because he knows that insuring their saftey is something very important to Bepo since it is his home country and his people (even if he didn't really grow up there)

The people of Zou thank Law for this and he immediately shrugs it off because he doesn't see himself as someone worth thanking (especailly not after he heard of all the good the strawhats did - how could he compare?) Despite it all tho, Law makes room for Luffy - he accommodates Luffy's request because he knows how important it is to him to get Sanji back And again, he does this all selflessly and at his own risk, tho he doesn't see it as such, Law changes his plan to help Luffy and he does so without really any hesitation

There are other examples of Law going out of his way to do good and be a good person despite the image he has of himself (I'm just currently only just finishing up Zou so I haven't gotten there yet, I just know things~)

But in short, Law clearly doesn't see himself as "good," tho he desperately want to be a good person, but regardless of how Law views himself, he is clearly "a good guy"

#Thank you for coming to my TED talk #this has just been floating around my brain today and I had to get it out so now you all have to look at it lol #listen to the autistic man Law~#he knows what he's talking about #Trafalgar D. Water Law #Trafalgar D. Law #Trafalgar Law #One Piece #One Piece Law #One Piece Meta #anyways...#Sorry for the rambling block of text the brain is just rotted lol #also welcome to my stream of consciousness~#Sophia talks too much #Law #Luffy #for my own blog organizational reasons I'm also tagging this as #Lawlu

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marauder-misprint · 4 months ago

Note

Here I am again, my favorite Harry Potter fandom writer :)

I saw something on TikTok, but I lost it because the page was refreshed before I could watch the end and see the creator of the video. But it gave me an idea:

Severus Snape's daughter x Marauders (which you know my preference is always Sirius 😘)

Severus doesn't have much love for his child since Lily is not her mother, but as a father who is aware of his own family history, he makes sure that his daughter lives a relatively happy life in good conditions. She will probably have a natural talent for potions and defense against the dark arts.

In this case, I honestly didn't think how to connect her to Sirius, there would probably be an age difference problem… ah but I want to hope that my favorite author can do something about impossible love 💕❤️😍

Cora! ❤︎ This did become an age-gap fic (approx. 16 years between reader and Sirius). I spent so much time on HP wiki trying to figure out canon birth years. I set it in OotP with a post-Azkaban Sirius.

Hopefully this works for impossible love ❤︎ I mean, Sirius is always gonna hate Severus but that doesn't mean Sirius can't love his daughter!

Snape Spawn

Sirius Black x Snape!reader

part two, part three

6.7k words

cw: age gap!, Y/N, pining?, snog, fluff if you squint

In the aftermath of losing Lily for calling her a mudblood, Severus became a pathetic mess. He lived more and more inside of his head just to survive. When he went home for the summer, he didn’t have the respite of Lily’s company when his parents became too much. To put it shortly and concisely, he found comfort in some girl’s arms, a girl also tempted by Voldemort’s preaching.

When he returned to Hogwarts in the fall, she wrote to him. He was going to be a father.

The girl didn’t survive much past your birth. Your grandparents took care of you for a few years, until they reached an age where they were unfit to do so. They returned you to Severus, being that he was now of age and able to fulfil his role of father.

He did so, although not gratefully.

You were raised in a tolerable home. Severus knew he couldn’t bring up a child in a home similar to the one he was raised in, so he did his best to ensure that you were happy. He found himself wishing you were the offspring of Lily, rather than some girl who would’ve joined the ranks of Voldemort. He kept you in the dark when he did join the Death Eaters. You were to be protected.

When Voldemort fell and Severus became a double agent, you were still unaware of everything. He took a job at Hogwarts as the Potions master, per Dumbledore’s request. You were watched over by a couple in Hogsmeade while he worked.

When you came of age, you attended Hogwarts, being sorted into Slytherin. Some people immediately questioned if Severus was fair when grading your assignments for his class; you had only received O’s from him. Despite your high grades across the board, next highest being Defense Against the Dark Arts, there was enough suspicion for Dumbledore to step in. When the headmaster deemed that your work was exceptional and far above the rest of your peers, the concerns settled down.

Your expertise in potion making rivaled that of your fathers, as did your passion for it. You made plenty of extra potions in your spare time. You had a complete collection of potions in your dorm. You would sell some for non-academic purposes, the most popular being various healing potions. You also supplied the veritaserum for Truth or Dares at parties. Despite being the daughter of the least-liked professor at Hogwarts, you were fairly well liked.

After you graduated, you opened an Apothecary in Diagon Alley. You and Severus spoke less and less. As he saw it, you were no longer his responsibility. And really, you weren’t. You didn’t reach out to him. Just the occasional letter to him at Christmas and his birthday and you received a letter on yours.

Then you got a letter from Severus that confused you. It said ‘Happy Birthday’ but your birthday had passed and you had already received your annual letter. There was something else off about the letter: several words were misspelled. Out of curiosity, you wrote down the correct letters and it spelled out a potion. It was one you always had in stock, although it was particularly difficult to brew. You knew it was a long shot and probably wouldn’t do anything, but you took the potion and poured it over the letter.

A short message appeared at the bottom.

Danger lies ahead. Meet me.

And then an address appeared with instructions.

You were quite confused when you arrived at 12 Grimmauld Place. You followed the directions left for you. You were even more confused when after you knocked on the door, you heard screaming from inside and then Remus Lupin opened the door.

“Erm, Professor?” you asked.

He stepped aside and let you in.

“Snape, she’s here!” he yelled down the hallway and then up the stairs, “Someone shut that portrait up!”

“Y/N,” Severus said, standing in the doorway at the end of the hallway. “You came.”

You held out the letter before saying deadpan, “It’s not my birthday.”

You looked past your father into a kitchen filled with people. Most of them were adults older than you, closer to your father’s age and older. Nymphandora Tonks was probably the person closest to your age. You looked back at Severus.

“What is this? What danger-?” you started to ask.

“Bring the girl in, we’ll fill her in with the door shut, please,” a firm, female voice said from within the kitchen.

Severus turned and you followed him into the kitchen, along with Remus. You recognized Molly and Arthur Weasley from graduation. You were in the same year as Percy, who was absent. The only other people you recognized were McGonagall and Mad-Eye Moody, from his picture in the paper.

You took a seat at the table and crossed your arms. You were waiting for an answer.

“So this is your spawn, Snivelly?” a smooth voice said from the end of the table that had been out of view from the door.

You turned your head to see Remus sit down next to Sirius Black. He looked more sane and put together than he did in all of his mug shots that littered the Daily Prophet two years ago.

“Merlin, when did you sire her? She’s older than Harry,” Sirius continued, eyeing you up and down.

It only made you narrow your eyes at him. The arrogance that he emanated didn’t sit well with you. You had a feeling that you weren’t going to like him, no matter how handsome you were beginning to think he was.

“None of your business,” Severus snarled, taking the seat next to you and putting himself between you and Sirius.

“She’s of age. Otherwise she wouldn’t be here and we wouldn’t be about to tell her about the Order,” Remus said.

The way that Remus looked at Sirius told you that Sirius would be filled in on you later. Remus had been one of your favorite professors at Hogwarts. It certainly helped that he taught your favorite subject and did a much better job at it than Lockhart did. Severus had warned you the moment Remus was hired that he was a werewolf. He had made you promise to remain in your dorm during full moons. Even with his Wolfsbane potion, Severus wanted Remus nowhere near you.

“The Order? Is someone going to explain? I had to close up shop early,” you said as you looked around the table.

“The Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore founded it when You-Know-Who first rose to power. And now that he’s back…” Arthur said. “Arthur Weasley, by the way.”

“So he is… he is back?” you asked, looking at your father for confirmation.

He nodded.

“We fought him once and we’ll fight him again,” Moody said gruffly.

You folded your hands in front of you. You swallowed thickly, once again looking from person to person around the room.

“Where do I come into this?” you asked quietly.

“They want you to join,” Severus said. “They assumed you’d want to fight. Particularly, Lupin.”

You leaned forward to get a clear look at Remus and cocked an eyebrow when you made eye contact.

“You’re a talented witch, Y/N. You’ll want to be on the right side of this,” Remus said.

You thought about the idea of fighting. If Voldemort really was back, you knew there would be another war brewing and which side you would support.

“How do I help? What do I need to do?”

“Told you she’d agree,” Remus told Severus, a smirk appearing on his face.

Mad-Eye and Arthur went into a deeper discussion about what the Order did, how secretive they needed to be, how they would communicate with you. Remus added a random comment here and there. You nodded as you listened intently. You gave Severus the occasional glance but he sat with a stoney expression. Beyond him, Sirius watched you with an amused look that you didn’t like. In your opinion, this meeting of the Order was no place for an expression like that.

After the delegation of assignments and missions, Molly looked at you and said, “You’re welcome to stay for dinner if you’d like.”

“Oh, um, I don’t know…”

Severus put his hand on your shoulder, grabbing your attention.

“I’ll see you at the next meeting,” he said before disappearing out of the kitchen.

You briefly turned your head to watch him leave. You chuckled to yourself. Typical.

“Meeting’s over?” Hermione asked, entering the kitchen.

“Mum, what is for dinner?” Ron added, following her.

You and Molly moved to the side to allow for the new people entering and the members leaving. Then two pops could be heard from the hallway before Fred and George came in. Their eyes locked in on you.

“Snape! Long time!” George called, wearing a grin that matched his twin’s.

“Weasley one and two. How’d you two survive last year without me?”

“Dreadful. Had to find a new way into the Slytherin Common Room,” Fred answered. “Are you staying for dinner?”

“I guess I am now. Didn’t know you were here.”

“Wow, we rank that high?” Fred asked, giving you a wink and earning an eye roll from you.

“You rank because you funded the first few months of my shop’s rent,” you deadpanned before breaking into a smile. “And I want to know why you needed so many wiggenwelds.”

As the people in the kitchen shifted, you found yourself sat at the table again. This time, as you sat across from the twins with Tonks to your left, you felt older, less like the child in the room. Arthur, Molly, Remus and Sirius were the only other members of the Order who remained.

You turned to Tonks and muttered, “I thought this was going to be more of a… Order meal.”

She shook her head and gave Molly a weary glance. You both knew you weren’t supposed to talk about Order stuff around the younger kids, but you thought it was safe enough.

“Not many stay. Molly invites them every time.”

Then the twins took over your attention. They told you about what they got up to your last year at Hogwarts when they bought healing potion after healing potion from you. They recounted the Triward Tournament and everything that happened last year. At one point, you explained to Tonks how you let the twins into the Slytherin Common Room on several occasions so that they could prank some of your more foul housemates.

Sirius wouldn’t admit it, but he was listening intently to your conversation and stealing momentary glances of you.

Some time after you left and everyone had dispersed throughout the house, Remus sat with Sirius in the drawing room.

“When did you find out Snivellus had a kid?” Sirius asked.

“When her name appeared on my roster.”

“You taught her? And you didn’t tell me?”

“I hadn’t seen you in twelve years, Padfoot. It didn’t seem important. Why do you care so much?”

Sirius didn’t answer. He didn’t know why your existence was so intriguing to him. Maybe it was the shock that Severus had actually managed to be intimate with someone. Sirius had watched you all through the meeting and then practically all dinner. Seeing you interact with Tonks and the twins, and everyone really, made it clear that you were a much different person than Severus.

“You said she’d want to join. What made you think that?”

“You remember how Severus was in school, with the dark arts?” Remus asked. “She had that same intense interest, except in Defense. Wasn’t a better student in her year. I was shocked when I heard she wasn’t going for an Auror position.”

“Didn’t she say something about a shop?”

Remus nodded. “Follows Snivy in that sense. Runs an apothecary in Diagon Alley.”

“I’m still not over that Snivellus has a kid…” Sirius muttered with a sigh.

---

Over the next few weeks, you met more and more of the Order’s members. Each meeting was a different combination of people. Molly, Arthur, Remus and Sirius were the only consistents. The Weasleys were fine, as was Remus. He insisted that you call him by his name, being that he was no longer a professor and you were no longer a student. It took time.

And then there was Sirius. This handsome man who looked at you with ever-changing expressions. One day he would be intrigued by you and the next he would be disgusted. You exchanged very few words with him. He was always on the other side of the room. And yet, your eyes often locked with his.

“Remus, we need you to come with us,” Molly called from the door. “Y/N, can you stay? We’ll need healing potions when we get back.”

“Erm, yeah. Yeah, I can stay. Is there-” you started to ask.

“Potions station? Upstairs. Have Sirius show you,” Remus said before following Molly and Arthur out of the house.

Once the door closed, you sighed. You hadn’t been on a mission yet, and you knew it was because of how young you were. It was a bit frustrating. You were of age. They asked you to be a part of the order. And here you were, staying behind to be a potioneer. Yes, you were good at it, but you were also exceptional at dueling. Remus had told you that before.

You looked around for Sirius. He wasn’t in the kitchen or anywhere on the main floor. You checked the various rooms as you ascended the stairs. You asked the Weasleys and Hermione if they’d seen him and all you got were shrugs in response. Great.

Then, with a sigh because it was so obvious, you knocked on his bedroom’s door.

“What?” his voice bellowed from inside.

“Sirius, I, erm, I need a potion station? Profess-, ahem, Remus said to ask you for it,” you said loudly to ensure your voice carried through the closed door.

There was a moment of silence before the sounds of him grumbling and getting up before he opened the door. He was more casually dressed than you had ever seen him. You were caught off guard by how effortlessly handsome he was.

“Wait in the drawing room. I’ll bring it down.”

You nodded. Sirius turned to go higher up the stairs and you went the opposite direction. You paced around the drawing room while you waited for him to return. You set up your travel package of potion ingredients. You knew that the Order had some stock, but something told you that your personal stock would be of higher quality and you preferred it when you knew where each ingredient came from. The sources could really affect the effectiveness of a potion.

You jumped when the potion station clanked through the door, followed by a string of swears from Sirius.

“Sorry, just this damn thing…”

You looked at it with a subtle gasp.

“Merlin, that’s ancient.”

Once it was in the room, you took over levitating it toward the middle of the room so you would have plenty of room to maneuver around it.

“Well, it was my parents so…” Sirius’ voice trailed off, his eyes studying your every move. “Can’t say how much it actually got used around here.”

“I keep forgetting this is your parents’ place. Must be strange to have it turned into headquarters when you grew up here.”

You started a fire and immediately went into work mode, starting a large batch of classic wiggenwelds. Sirius unceremoniously fell into a rickety armchair before getting comfortable. Surely watching you work would be more entertaining than staring at the ceiling in his room.

“Strange doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

Without looking up from the cauldron, you asked, “How would you describe it then?”

“Horrible,” he said quickly. He didn’t even pause to think about it. “It’s a prison. It was when I was growing up here and it still is. Different kinds of torture, but it boils down to the same pain.”

You glanced at him through your eyelashes, only briefly as to keep the majority of your attention on the potion that was beginning to simmer. He looked utterly at ease in the chair.

“They say we can’t risk you getting captured. Dementor’s kiss and all.”

Sirius chucked. “They say… Like staying here isn’t sucking my soul out all the same.”

“It’s not exactly… cheerful.”

“My damned house elf was never a good housekeeper. Nor was my mother an interior designer. Parents took too much pride in their family heirlooms to consider taste.”

You hummed. “I take it you think you have taste, then?”

“Oh, I know I do. I mean, don’t take my room here for example. If you could see my room at the Potter Manor?” He shook his head with a sigh. “And I had barely settled after moving out when… when it all happened.”

You sat back on your heels, turning a muggle cooking timer you had in your pack. The potion needed to sit for some time.

“Do you want to talk about those years? Or should we change the subject?” you asked, placing some of your tools back into their case.

He barked a laugh and tilted his head back against the chair’s fraying material.

“Change the subject. There’s not much to say about sitting in a cell and rotting for twelve years.”

“Says the only man to escape Azkaban.”

“Different subject, darling.”

“Okay, okay. Can I ask why it feels like you’re always staring at me during meetings?”

“Easy. Because I am.”

The casualness in his answer took you by surprise. Who admits to staring at a person?

“Why?”

“You’re Snivy’s kid,” Sirius said like it was an obvious answer, but it made you frown.

“I take it you and my dad didn’t get along.”

“I wouldn’t say we were friends, no. But the feeling was mutual.”

“So Severus is my dad. Why does that make you stare?” you asked, standing up and crossing your arms over your chest. This time, it was you studying him, taking in every detail of his features.

Under your intense gaze, SIrius sat up in the chair and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.

“Trying to figure out how much like him you are.”

You hummed. “I’m sure someone told you it doesn’t matter if you like dad or me. There’s a bigger problem at hand that doesn’t require us to be friends.”

Sirius flexed his eyebrows in mild annoyance.

“It’s not friendship I’m looking for from you,” he said, sounding irritated that he had to explain this. “Can I trust you? Can we trust you?”

You scoffed and took a step backwards.

“Why wouldn’t you be able to trust me?”

“Because I don’t trust your father. I don’t care if Dumbledore does. I don’t care he claims to be a changed man. Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater.”

Suddenly, your expression changed into complete shock and disbelief. It hit Sirius that perhaps you didn’t know of your father’s history and the mark he bore on his left arm.

“Oh, you didn’t know…”

“Dad was… is… was…” you stuttered. “No… He-he can’t… What?”

“I’m sorry, I wouldn’t’ve said anything if I knew you didn’t know…”

“No,” you said, holding up a hand to silence Sirius. “I’m glad you told me. You really would think I would know that about my own father… Merlin…”

Sirius stood up and took exactly one step toward you. Then your timer went off. The cauldron captured all of your attention again. You removed it from the fire, stirred it and added the final ingredients. Sirius didn’t sit back down. He was too distracted with how you turned off your emotions to deal with the potion. It was like you suddenly didn’t care that a portion of your father’s identity had been hidden from you for your entire life because you had a duty, a duty to be prepared when the members of the Order returned.

“Sirius,” you said after a few minutes. “Thank you for telling me about my father.”

“They’re back!” Ginny yelled from downstairs.

“Great, help me take this down to the kitchen?” you asked, gesturing to the cauldron.

“Yeah, I’ll bring it. You go ahead, assess the damage done.”

You chuckled softly. “I’m no healer. Just a potioneer.”

---

Slowly, you started talking to Sirius before and after meetings. The ones Severus attended, you avoided his eye. You had never questioned some things before, and now you were. The more you thought on your childhood, things that previously seemed odd made sense, given Sirius’ revelation.

Severus wasn’t oblivious to your sudden coldness to him. He cornered you after one of the meetings.

“Are you feeling alright?” he asked.

“What?” you replied, barely able to bring yourself to look at him.

“You’re avoiding me,” Severus said plainly. “It’s unlike you.”

You shrugged before crossing your arms.

“So what if I am? You’re not who I thought you were.”

“I’m your father,” he hissed, leaning forward like he was trying to assert his dominance over you.

You kept your head held high. “Roll up your sleeves then, Father.”

Severus stood up straighter, taking a step backwards. He glanced around the room. Then he grabbed your arm and pulled you out of the kitchen.

“Come with me,” he snarled, dragging you up the stairs until you reached the drawing room. He closed the door behind you and casted a muffling charm. “Who told you?”

“Doesn’t matter. It should have been you.”

“It does matter, Y/N.”

You scoff, turning away from him. You didn’t see why it mattered who told you, just that it hadn’t been him. You knew now and you didn’t know how you could trust your father. You agreed with Sirius on that point; it didn’t matter if Dumbledore trusted him. You decided that your father had to re-earn your trust. You were his daughter, his own flesh and blood. How come he wasn't the one who told you?

“You made yourself a liability,” he said.

“Oh no, what’s going to happen? I can’t go on missions? Oh, wait, I haven’t been on one.”

“You’re starting to sound like… Merlin…” Severus said.

Severus stormed out of the room and practically flew down the stairs. Even from upstairs, you could hear his threats.

“Are you trying to turn her against me? Do you ever think about your actions?”

“I didn’t know Y/N didn’t know!” Sirius’ voice replied, carrying as much anger as your father’s did. “She deserved to know.”

“Severus! Sirius!” Molly yelled.

You could imagine what the kitchen looked like. Severus at Sirius’ throat. Despite the anger in his voice, Sirius would maintain an even expression, or it would be masked with a casual grin. Molly was certainly trying to get in between them.

“Molly, don’t you agree that Y/N should know of past alliances?” Sirius asked.

“Y/N, maybe. The rest of the house? No.”

You rolled your eyes as you left the drawing room and went down the stairs. You slipped out the front door before you could overhear any more of the argument. Something flipped in you and you didn’t feel like seeing Severus or Sirius in the aftermath of that meeting. You also didn’t want to talk to Molly and explain your part in it. You knew you wouldn’t be able to avoid it forever; there would be more Order meetings. But that wouldn’t be for a week, and people would be able to settle down.

The next week, you arrived early. You’re not sure why, but it felt like the thing to do. The Advance Guard was gathering. You weren’t a part of it, surprise surprise. You knew that Severus wouldn’t be, but he would arrive as close to meeting time as he could. Sirius would be around.

“Y/N, you’re not needed until later,” Remus said as you walked through the door and hung up your coat.

“I know,” you said casually. “But I can have tea in my flat, alone, or I can have tea here.”

You walked past the guard, which proved more difficult than it should have been as they stood in the narrow hallway. There was no one in the kitchen, which you found odd. It was usually the life of the house, especially before meetings. You knew the kids liked to linger in attempts to be overlooked so they could attend a meeting. Molly always spotted them and kicked them out. ‘Members only,’ she’d say to their protests as they declared that they’d like to join.

You put a kettle on and milled around, looking for the various things you need. Cup, tea leaves, sugar. Maybe a biscuit if they had some. You find everything you need just as the kettle whistles, and then you settle at the table.

It doesn’t take long before Sirius enters the kitchen, smiling when he sees you. He took the seat next to you. After a minute, he reached over to grab your cup and took a sip of your tea. He made a face as he placed it back in front of you.

“Got enough sugar in there?”

“Not a fan of this blend,” you deadpanned, which was a partial truth. You also just liked your tea on the sweeter side. “You excited to see Harry?”

Sirius tensed slightly but then he nodded.

“Yes. I wish he could’ve come sooner or we could’ve written him any kind of information…” He gave you a soft look. “It’s not like with you. He doesn’t have the ability to solve a riddle and brew up some potion to counteract a cursed piece of parchment. Bloody muggles he lives with…”

“I’ve heard stories,” you muttered. “They put bars on his windows at some point.”

Sirius’ eyes widened at that.

“They did what?”

“The muggles, um, Fred and George said they rescued him from some horrible situation a few years back. You’d have to ask them ‘bout it.”

Sirius nodded and the two of you fell into a mostly comfortable silence. Slowly, other members of the Order started to fill the kitchen and the seats at the table. The murmur of small talk broke up the silence. Then there was a commotion by the front door – Harry had arrived.

You remained seated as Molly and Sirius went to greet him and the Advance Guard. You made brief eye contact with Harry before he was ushered upstairs and Molly closed the kitchen door so the meeting could start. Sirius sat down next to you, but the air around him was changed.

You stayed for dinner again. In exchanging Order Members for the non-members, Sirius got up and sat down next to Remus. The spots on either side of you were filled by Fred and George. You sunk into your seat as Harry asked question after question about the Order as Sirius encouraged him and Molly shut him down. It was tense. You just wanted a warm home cooked meal, not an argument if the Harry Potter should be allowed into the Order and who was his family.

The meal took far too long in your opinion. You barely took the time to say goodbye before hurrying out the door and making your way back to your flat. You sighed in the darkness. You didn’t bother turning on the lights, not needing it to cross the small distance to your room. The emptiness of your flat reminded you that you liked the solitude of it. It wasn't busy or filled with raging arguments. It was calm. It was quiet. It was you.

The next few meetings, Sirius didn’t sit near you. He didn’t bother to say hello or bye. You practically glued yourself to Tonks, given she was the only person in the room who currently didn’t make you feel like a child. Yes, you were the baby of the group, but you didn’t need to feel like that. It didn’t help that you still hadn’t been chosen to go on a mission. Your main and only task was to stay behind and prepare potions in case the worst happens on the mission.

“I’m not a healer,” you reminded everyone time and time again, only to be dismissed.

You started leaving Grimmauld Place in a huff more often than not. Then you heard about the group selected to accompany Harry to King’s Cross. You didn’t even bother showing up to headquarters on September 1. No one was going to attack the boy at the train station, and you knew there would be no need for potions when the Order members returned. You’d hear about how Sirius tagged along in his animagus form during the next meeting. Great. Even Sirius technically got to go on a mission.

Your attitude toward the Order was worsening. You knew that it was the side to be on. You knew you signed up for this, but it really wasn’t living up to any expectations that you had. Then, Remus approached you with a desperate request. You couldn’t turn him down.

Sirius sat watching you as you worked on preparing the Wolfsbane potion. Remus was running out and Severus claimed to be too busy to brew it. You could’ve brewed it at your shop but something drew you to headquarters. So you sat in the drawing room with the ancient brewing station, a wide variety of ingredients and a potions book. You could feel Sirius’ eyes on you, taking in every motion.

“Do you need something?” you asked, an air of impatience to your voice.

Sirius doesn’t respond right away. He had been in his thoughts thinking about how when Severus was that intensely focused on a potion, Sirius would’ve made fun of him for it, but when it was you, it was fascinating and beautiful.

“No,” Sirius said firmly.

You spared him a glance. It barely lasted a second. Sirius made no effort to pretend that he wasn’t staring at you. You sighed. You weren’t a huge fan of having someone watch your every move while you brewed a potion. You were no longer in school; you didn’t need supervision.

“If you don’t need anything, why are you in here?”

“It’s my house,” he replied flatly.

“Look,” you said, standing up and brushing yourself off before slowly walking over to him. “I know you and my father don’t get along. But I’m brewing that-” You gestured back toward the cauldron. “For Remus, who is your friend. And I really don’t need any distract-”

You were cut off by Sirius’ lips pressing onto yours as he leaned upward. You hadn’t realized you were standing close enough to his chair for him to do that. You took a shocked step backwards. Sirius stood up with a smirk on his face.

“Thanks, on behalf of Remus. I’ll leave you to finish that. Uninterrupted. And if you need me, I’ll be in my room.”

No distractions. That is what you had been asking of Sirius and instead, he gave you one of the biggest distractions that he could. You watched him leave the room and then tried to regain your focus. You had a task at hand. A rather important one, if you asked anyone who knew of Remus’ condition. The liquid started to bubble and you swore, hurrying to stir in the next ingredient.

Your mind kept drifting back to Sirius and the fact that he kissed you. And then left? Well, you had been in the middle of asking him to leave, but still. You don’t kiss someone and leave. Not like that.

You finished brewing the Wolfsbane and poured it into a collection of vials. You took your time cleaning up, debating what you wanted to do. You were still debating it as you went to find Remus and give him the vials. The upcoming full moon was already taking effect on him. He looked more tired and weak than usual. You knew the potion helped but it was still a far cry from a cure-all.

Then you found the door that said ‘Sirius Orion Black’ on it. You stood outside it for at least a full minute before raising your hand to knock on it. But you didn’t knock. Not right away. You let your hand fall. Then you raised it again, and let it fall. On the third try, because third time’s the charm, you knocked. You could hear movement from inside the room and then he opened the door.

Sirius watched you with curious eyes as you walked into his room. He closed the door behind you. You scanned the room, scoffing at the posters of motorbikes and girls in bikinis.

“Classy,” you said. “This is the taste that your parents didn’t have?”

“If I recall, I said to not count my room here. I put all this up when I was like 13? 14? Give or take. And permanent sticking charms are more powerful than most people give them credit for.”

“Ah, that’d be the lack of understanding for the word permanent.”

Sirius chuckled at that and leaned against his desk. Once again, he was watching your every move. He couldn’t help the smirk that pulled at his lips as you cautiously sat down on his bed. You were still taking in the time capsule of Sirius’ childhood when you spoke.

“So, um, what was that? Downstairs.” You knew you sounded confused, unsure of how you felt about it.

“When you said that I don’t get along with your… with Severus,” he started, saying your father’s name with a moderate level of disgust, “you weren’t wrong. Apparently, I have strong emotions for Snapes. For him, it’s… ahem, not good. But you?” He took a breath and shook his head. “I can’t get you out of my head. At first I thought it was because you’re his kid. But it’s not that. It’s… Merlin, you’re something else, you know?”

You just stare at him. You didn’t quite understand what he was saying. This time it was your turn to watch him as he stood up from leaning against his desk and made his way toward you. He stood in front of you for a moment, running a gentle finger along your jaw from your ear down to your chin.

As he sat next to you, he added, “And I tried to stop what I feel for you. Bury it deep. But, fuck, Y/N, you’re irresistable…”

“So August was…”

“That was me telling myself this would never work. You’re a Snape. There’s no way you could want me like I want you.”

You wanted to laugh. Sirius was devilishly handsome and you found he was easy to get along with. You liked how he didn’t treat you like a child and understood why you felt less than in the Order, since you were both consistently left behind.

“What made you… change your mind?” you asked, turning so your body was angled toward him.

“I may be very much reading into it, but I don’t think so since you’re here now. But you brewed Remus’ potion here rather than your little apothecary shop. Thought that it might be because I’m here. And then you were about to call me a distraction.”

This time you did laugh.

“Cocky much? Assuming a distraction is a good thing?”

He leaned in so his face was only centimeters from yours. “Is it?”

You hated how your breath caught in your throat. You hated how Sirius obviously noticed with his smirk growing into a wide grin. He leaned in more. His lips weren’t quite touching yours but you swore you could feel them move as he spoke.

“It is, isn’t it?”

“Just kiss me again, Black,” you breathed.

That was all he needed to press his lips to yours again. You didn’t pull back this time. You leaned into him, kissing back with passion you hadn’t felt in years. Sirius had one hand cupping your face and the other holding onto your waist, holding your body in place. The voice in his head kept saying that any moment now you’d remember that Sirius is the same age as your father and it would disgust you. You kept proving the voice wrong with each passing second.

Soon enough you were no longer sitting on Sirius’ bed. You straddled him, pressing your body against his. Both his hands were traveling your body, feeling the softness of your skin under your shirt. You simply had an arm around his neck and a hand in his hair.

You felt like you had fire in your veins as Sirius’ lips left yours but kept pressing wet kisses to your skin. He moved to your jaw and down your neck until he found the sweet spot near your collarbone.

A firm knock on his door froze the both of you where you sat practically intertwined.

“Padfoot, I’m going for takeaway. Want anything?” Remus called through the door.

You pressed your mouth against Sirius’ shoulder to prevent yourself from giggling. There was something so utterly teenage about almost getting caught snogging. You and Sirius were both adults, but being walked in on by Remus would still have felt mortifying.

“Nah, mate, I’m good,” Sirius yelled back. His hands were still holding your side and back under your shirt.

“Alright.” There was a pause. “Did little Snape leave? I didn’t hear the door.”

You pulled back from Sirius’ shoulder with wide eyes. You didn’t know what you wanted him to stay. If Sirius said you were still here, Remus would probably ask if you wanted anything or where you were since you clearly weren’t anywhere else in the house. If he said you were gone and Remus decided to come in for some reason, Sirius would have to explain why he lied. Well, it would be obvious why he lied, but still. You figured it would be better if Sirius said you were gone and then you could sneak out while Remus was gone.

“She’s quiet, that one. Mum would’ve liked her,” Sirius replied and you nodded approvingly.

“Right. Okay. I’ll be back.”

You and Sirius sat silently. You listened to Remus descend the rest of the stairs and leave the house.

“I’ll have to be gone before he gets back,” you said.

“Or you could stay,” Sirius offered. “Say you forgot something or another.”

You placed a kiss on Sirius’ cheek. “Yeah? And then what?”

“Then…” Sirius drew out the word as if pondering your question. “You spend the night?”

You let out a dry laugh. “Oh, Sirius, I don’t fuck on the first date.” You patted his cheek gently before removing yourself from his lap. You tried not to look at the tent in his pants, the result of having you. “How about you make me dinner sometime?”

Sirius had frowned when you got up but it was quickly replaced with a smile when you suggested dinner.

“And if I’m no chef?”

You shrugged. “I could pick up takeaway. Or, if you’re really nice, I could make something.”

Then, realization hit you and you sat back down next to Sirius.

“If this happens,” you said, gesturing between you and Sirius, “we’ll have to tell my father.”

Sirius’ grin only grew, something wicked flickering in his eyes. “I can’t wait to tell him.”

“That’ll help you mend your past,” you muttered, earning a bark of a laugh from Sirius.

“I think we’re well past being able to mend anything, sweetheart,” he said. “But I can be cordial if it means I can have you.”

You jam a finger into his chest. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. So far all you are is a good snog.”

“A good snog, eh? High reviews.”

“Think you’re open on Friday?” you asked, standing up again and straightening your shirt.

“Let’s see,” Sirius said, mock-pondering. “Tomorrow, Friday, next week, next month… I’m open.”

“Right, sorry.” You gave Sirius a small smile. “Chinese sound good? I’ll pick it up and be over ‘round 7?”

“Sounds lovely.”

Tag: @bruxa0007

#marauders #marauders fic #marauder-misprint #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #request

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luffington · 11 months ago

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OMG im obsessed with the fic with Cora and Doffy X Reader! i was wondering if i could request just Corazon X Reader? im absolutely crazy about the idea of sweet Cora having those repressed sadistic urges, and his struggle with wanting to be soft and kind, but cant help liking the darker and meaner, its just. UGH SO GOOD

Maybe the reader could have picked up on that a bit and is teasing him into giving in to those urges (which they're totally into lol)

Also i love your fics sm! keep up the great work <3

✧.* art credit!

➤ pairing: donquixote rosinante (corazon) x gn!reader

➤ word count: 1.3k

➤ warnings: dom!corazon, possessive!corazon, dacryphilia, oral (m receiving), praise kink, established relationship, fem reader

RIGHT ITS SUCH A GOOD CONCEPT!!! we barely know anything about cora outside of what law experienced and we'll probably never find out more so.... character interpretation!

my first draft of this had a paragraph where the reader acted bratty to try to coax out his mean side and he almost starting crying.... i took it out because i couldn't do that to him (ㅠ‸ㅠ)

this ended up being pretty similar to the other fic (read here) but i hope you like it!

NSFW under the break! minors dni thank uuu

Corazon was the sweetest man you’d ever met. Sure, he was a master of deception – hiding his Devil Fruit powers and tricking his brother into trusting him was definitely not an easy feat. His anger issues could use some work, even though the reasons behind his outrage were always justified. But his loving personality and strong sense of morality were very real.

He never doubted your kind heart, either. You had joined the Donquixote Family simply because you had no other options, and dealing with his crazy older brother was better than starving on the streets. Corazon was able to relax around you, be silly and affectionate without being judged by his cold-hearted coworkers, and finally speak after long stretches of staying silent.

But there was more to him.

Doflamingo seemed to be the black sheep based on what little you knew about the biological Donquixotes. A rare case of madness in an otherwise well-intentioned family. However, the brothers still shared the same genes and the same horrific childhood. And even though Corazon never discussed his experiences in the Navy, he certainly witnessed terrible things that still weighed on his mind.

Your boyfriend tried his best to keep any deep-rooted darkness away from you, but it was unhealthy for him to repress every negative emotion. You wanted him to feel comfortable around you. He didn’t need to be an angel all the time.

One time, the eternally clumsy blonde almost fell trying to hover above you in bed. Not wanting to crush you with his ten-foot tall body, he caught himself by grabbing your arm. Hard. You squeaked in surprise and he immediately apologized, but dark blue fingerprint-shaped bruises stained your skin by the end of the night.

Early the next morning, when he thought you were still asleep, he lightly traced the marks over and over. You caught him staring at them throughout the day, too, looking more intrigued than upset. He littered your neck, chest, and thighs with hickies the next time you fucked, and you realized inflicting pain wasn’t what turned him on – he didn’t want to hurt you, he wanted to mark you. Those were his fingerprints on your arm.

So much was taken away from him at a young age that of course he wanted to claim you as his own. Hickies were more conventionally sexy than bruises, so he was less ashamed about admiring them in front of you and telling you how pretty you look. Even gently rubbing a large one on your neck during a Family meeting, which made his brother huff and tell you to get a room. Corazon did get a room after that – pulled you aside into a private bathroom and fucked you against the sink while making you stare at yourself in the mirror. Whispering in a deep voice about how the color of your hickies matched his plum-colored lipstick.

A few weeks later, he came home in the middle of the night after being away on a mission with Diamante and Trebol for nearly a week. Thunder boomed outside the window and his feathery black coat left behind a trail of rainwater as he stumbled into your shared room. His tall frame visibly shook with anger, his dark sunglasses barely covered the fury burning in his eyes. You got out of bed to greet him and asked how the operation went, but he just pulled you into a very wet hug and mumbled, “I don’t want to think about it ever again.”

You blinked slowly and whispered, “I can help you forget.”

The blonde threw his half-burned cigarette to the floor then smashed his lips against yours. He didn’t bother taking the time to build up to a heated kiss. Immediately biting your lower lip raw before pushing his long tongue inside your mouth. Your eyes fluttered shut, easily submitting and letting him take whatever he wanted from you. The smell of smoke caught both of your attention. Corazon instinctively stomped out the cigarette ashes smoldering on the throw rug without tearing away from the kiss for even a moment.

“Let me use you.” He looked as desperate as he sounded. “Just for tonight, can you be my little doll? I’ll make it up to you later, I promise, I’ll be so good to you.” Heat shot straight to your core and you nodded fervently, clutching onto his drenched clothes like your life depended on it.

Which is how you ended up with his lengthy cock down your throat, your bare ass in the air and body wedged between his sprawled-out legs. Calloused fingers tangled in your hair to firmly guide you up and down. Graciously giving you time to relax by letting you swirl your tongue around the swollen tip, though he never pulled you entirely off his dick. He looked so pretty like this – damp hair clinging to his forehead, pale cheeks turned pretty pink, subtly squirming on the mattress, pupils fully blown out with lust.

Corazon suddenly thrust upwards to hear you gag, several inches of his cock forcing their way into your tight throat. Tiny teardrops reflexively lined your eyes as your gag reflex kicked in. You expected the blonde to panic and immediately stop – even though it was just your body’s natural reaction and you were enjoying every second. But instead, he licked his lips like he wanted to devour you.

There were those Doflamingo genes.

But unlike his selfish brother, Corazon asked if you were comfortable with everything happening for the second time that night. You gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up, obviously unable to verbally confirm with his dick stretching your mouth to its limit. His cock drooled salty precum onto your tongue as thick globs of your drool dripped down to his balls.

You used both hands to stroke the rest of his length that couldn’t fit in your mouth – the huge man had a huge dick to match. Corazon swatted them away, held your wrists in one giant hand then pushed down hard until every inch of him was deep in your throat, messy blonde pubes tickling your nose. He was glad he set up a sound barrier, otherwise the entire Family would’ve heard the debauched moan that spilled from his lips.

After a few moments of admiring you and the prominent bulge in your throat, your boyfriend released you just before it became too much. “Good girl,” Corazon panted with a dazed smile. “Such a good girl, taking it all like you’re supposed to.”

He gave up trying to hold back after that, bucking his hips against your face and rambling about how pretty and perfect you looked like this. He pressed your head all the way down again just before he hit his peak, shooting a large load of cum directly into your stomach. When he saw your ruined state, a dark pit formed in his stomach. Tears stained your cheeks and spit dripped down your chin as you gasped for air, and he was turned on by it.

Corazon quickly pulled you close to press soft kisses against your cheek and make sure you were okay. Nothing you said seemed to convince him, so you brought his hand between your thighs. When he swiped a finger through your folds, his eyes widened at how wet you were. He admired the way your sticky juices webbed between his digits, then immediately began toying with your cunt.

“I would’ve stopped you if you didn’t like it,” you grinned, shamelessly rutting against the palm of his hand. “Ruin me with your cock more. I’ll be a good toy for you.”

Corazon gulped, stomach fluttering with sinful excitement. “O-Okay, if… if you’re sure that’s what you want.”

Both of you knew he wanted it more than anything.

#i want donquixote genes inside me too #corazon smut #corazon x reader #corazon imagine #rosinante smut #rosinante x reader #donquixote rosinante smut #donquixote rosinante x reader #rosinante imagine #corazon #rosinante #donquixote rosinante #one piece smut #one piece x reader #request #mine #my fics #anon

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zorosangell · 6 months ago

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I’ll request for Cora then! I don’t really know what to request tho 🤔 but I love all your writing so I’m sure I’ll love whatever you write. how about just general headcanons? thank you! ❤️

⛥ﾟ・。corazon general and specific headcanons

synopsis: just some headcanons for the nine-foot tall blonde of my dreams

cw: none

a/n: this was so fun to write! thanks anon for the ask. i think i'm gonna open up my inbox for headcanons on other characters like kid or law or whatever

a/n 2: stay safe and rive carefully y'all. happy new year <3

general headcanons (you both are in a relationship)

— while i've seen others view cora as an overall shy, introverted person, i actually think the opposite, at least in some cases

— granted, he's not shouting from the mountain tops or actively going out of his way to talk to others, he is very extroverted with the people he knows and trusts

— like you, queen <3

— he likes to tell jokes and use his clumsiness to make you laugh, even if it isn't on purpose most of the time

— and when you do, he feels like he's on top of the world

— he's also very protective of you

— certain things in your relationship he likes to take a back seat on, but your safety is not one of them

— he's seen some things, and he'll be damned if something happens to you because of his negligence

— in a crowded room, he'll position himself behind you, acting as a guard dog as he keeps tabs on all possible threats

— in a bar, he'll keep a watchful eye on your drink and make sure an arm is around your waist at all times

— on the sidewalk, he will always, always make sure he's on the street side

— but that ties in with him being a perfect gentleman

— that being said... YOU NEVER HAVE TO PAY FOR ANYTHING

— actually gets offended if you try

— you're his lady; when you're with him, you don't lift a finger

— he may be on a marine's salary but when it comes to you he acts as if he has all the money in the world

— loves to splurge on you

"aw, baby, look! that necklace would look great on you, wouldn't it!"

"cora, honey, it's 90,000 berries... and you just got me a 70,000 berry bracelet last week"

"and?"

— honestly not very opinionated, doesn't really have many preferences when it comes to material things

— often has you order for him at restaurants, or pick out his clothes for the day

— hates arguing and fighting in general (though arguments are few and far between for you both anyway)

— if you don't like kids, that might be a bit of a deal breaker, seeing as law is a large part of his life

— not only that, but if you just are not a kind or decent person, this is not the man for you

— but trust, if you hit it off with law, you will have this man's heart forever (easier said than done tho)

specific headcanon (story-ish i guess)

— for the sake of whatever, let's say you're the nurse of doflamingo's crew (by circumstance, you're still a good person)

— when you first joined, cora was floored by your beauty; like actually, he fell flat on his face when doflamingo introduced you to the crew

— he was baffled that someone like you was a pirate, and even more so when you opened your mouth to reveal that you were incredibly kind and warm hearted

— (he would later learn that you had been blackmailed by his brother into joining the crew—the warlord promised no harm would come to your family if you joined him)

— initially, he was both enamored and suspicious, seeing as only those with cruel intentions joined his brother's crew

— but as time went by, he was quick to learn that it was quite the opposite, and quick to grow a certain fondness for you

— i imagine cora as a slow burner, so of course all of this happens over a decent amount of time

— but within that time you manage to weasel your way into his heart

— being the ship's nurse, you are always tasked with patching him up after his mishaps

— even though you do slip up and let out a chuckle or two, it never comes from a place of malice, unlike the others

— and even still, you scold and warn him about being careful around fires and hot liquids

— though, most of the time, it goes in one ear and out the other

— sometimes he's too preoccupied with your soft hands on him, or your pretty eyes locked with his

— sidebar: he blushes like a school girl because of his fair skin, i'm talking full on tomato

— anyway, it isn't long before you two become incredibly close

— communicating is a bit of a hassle given his silence, but he appreciates your constant effort

— he makes a point to keep you as far away from doflamingo as possible, often sending you on "errands" to avoid the two of you from interacting

— and when he can't do that, he floats around, not straying too far away as his brother pulls you aside for a chat or asks you to check a pain on his abdomen (barf)

— that doesn't just apply for his brother, btw

— he does that for everyone on the crew, executive or not

— no one gets you on your own without him knowing about it

— on the outside looking in it might sound stalker-ish, but in his mind he justified it as performing his duty as a marine

— all he was doing was protecting a helpless... sweet-smelling... adorably-laughing... angel-looking... young woman

— but in actuality, he was protecting his dream girl

— his dream girl who absolutely loves kids! (if you don't, then, once again, cora might not be the one for you)

— you always treat baby 5 and buffalo with such kindness, even when they act like little monsters; making sure they take their baths, making sure they eat, giving them their monthly check-ups

— it's one of the many things cora loves about your personality

— as well as nurse, you play the role of nanny to the kids onboard

— and your mothering only expands when law and dellinger join the crew

— fast forward to when cora is about to take law away, he comes to you first, severely surprising you by reciting a passionate dissertation as to why you should join him

— he couldn't imagine leaving you behind in the clutches of his brother; no protection, no one to shield you from the horrors of the family

— so it was only natural that his heart fell to his ass when you declined, but your reasoning was that doflamingo still had your family hostage

— though, on one particular night, when you had happened to walk past the door to his study, you overheard him talking to the other executives about how gullible you were, as he had killed your family years ago

— distraught, you ran away with cora and law that night

— and it was bbq chicken from there...

#zorosangell #one piece #one piece x reader #corazon #rosinante x reader #donquixote rosinante #rosinante corazon #corazon x reader

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karikarasuno · 2 months ago

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part ten | part eleven | part twelve

the library is hosting career week this week, so cora invited law to speak with some of the kids. law agreed even though he's not really good with kids. they kinda scare him. they're unfiltered and often times loud and law has a difficult time understanding them when they talk too quickly.

law has never even held a baby besides his little sister. and that was a very long time ago. but he agrees to it anyway. especially because cora is sneaky, conniving, and manipulative. he purposely asked when you were around. that cunning son of a bitch.

"so, law, i have a favor to ask," cora says as the three of you lounge in law's patio late one evening. you're playing some game on your phone beside him while cora stretches out in a lounge chair.

"no," law says without hesitation.

"that's not very nice. you don't even know what it is," cora pouts, but not really. he's a faker. and definitely up to something when his eyes quickly flick over to you.

"babe, just hear the poor man out," you say, eyes still locked on your phone screen. you always pity cora for some reason. you have a soft spot for him that law doesn't really understand. he should appreciate that you two get along so well. except for when it doesn't work in his favor. which is often, much to law's frustration.

"yeah, listen to her, she knows what she's talking about," cora nods slyly. law could strangle him.

"fine," he begrudgingly agrees. "what do you want?"

cora smiles, close-lipped and smug. like law has already agreed to whatever favor this is.

"so i was wondering," cora starts slowly, carefully picking out his words, "if you could stop by the library for career week and speak to the kids about what its like being a doctor."

law groans. cora is aware of law's discomfort around children. cora thinks it's funny. law doesn't understand the joke.

"no," he reiterates with a tone of finality. but his no doesn't last long. not when you gasp beside him and set down your phone to look over at him.

"why not?" you complain. "that would be so cute!"

"i don't think i'd ever describe it as 'cute'," law huffs in his seat, refusing to look at you because he already knows the face you're making. one that he has a really hard time saying no to.

"aw, come on!" you place both of your hands on his forearm and lightly shake him. he glares at cora. "just think about it. all those little kids sitting around listening to you talk about how cool it is to be a doctor. it'll be fun."

"again," he reinforces, "not exactly a word i'd use to describe this particular situation."

he feels you scoot closer to him and you prop your chin on his shoulder. his resolve is in shambles right now. he cannot stand his brother. "if it makes you feel any better i'll go with you."

"why would that make me feel better?" he grumbles, glancing down at you from the corner of his eye.

"because i'll be there for moral support. just say yes, i promise it won't be that bad."

"i don't know." this is a yes disguised as a no with an air of indecisiveness. law is losing. and he's annoyed by it.

"don't be such a grouch." you lightly slap his chest before turning your focus to cora. "we're going."

the look on cora's face is triumphant. he didn't even have to work for it. law makes a silent vow that next time they're alone, he's going to punch his brother.

and that's how he ends up at the library at 10am on a saturday. the last day of career week and therefore the fucking busiest as families crowd every corner. it's also hot outside. law's sweating and he wants to blame the sun, but he knows what it really is. anxiety.

"thanks for coming!" cora's voice rings out in the busy entrance. his arms open wide as he greets you two. he's wearing the glasses chain you bought him for his birthday, and law doesn't miss the flash of excitement on your face.

"well thank you for the invite," you say, offering cora a quick hug before reaching back to grab law's hand. you don't recoil when you feel how sweaty it is which he appreciates. you just drag a soothing thumb over the back of his hand and pretend as if you cannot feel the wave of nerves that's surely emitting from law. he feels radioactive. especially after he takes one singular step further into the library and a child that barely reaches his knees runs straight into him.

"ope, careful there," you say with a light laugh, reaching down to help the young boy from the floor. he giggles and you smile and then his mom comes to collect him. but law doesn't miss the look on your face. it could be longing or appreciation or something else entirely. something he's never felt before.

"we're in a place where you have to look down," you whisper to him. "tiny people walk amongst us."

you wink. he rolls his eyes, but smiles nonetheless. however small it may be.

it doesn't go as horribly as law thinks it will. the children are actually well-behaved as they sit criss cross applesauce in front of him. he's managed to squeeze himself into a chair that's far too small for him. he doesn't know how cora lives like this. and when he's done talking about his job the children ask questions.

"is it icky cutting people open?" the boy is no more than 6 and he's missing his two front teeth.

"sometimes, yeah, but you get used to it."

"is there a lot of blood?" a young girl with a head of chunky curls asks.

"well, yes," law answers, confused because it's an obvious one.

"blegh." she sticks her tongue out with disgust. "what happens if you're a vampire? can you still be a doctor?"

law looks around for you. you're sitting in the back beside a mother and her baby. positively amused. he doesn't know if he should burst the young girl's bubble and tell her that vampires aren't real. but what if that's like telling her santa isn't real? the last thing he needs is a crying child. but he can't fight the urge to be honest. so he goes with "in books and movies, sure they can. in real life i think that would be a health violation."

you snicker behind your hand when he glances at you. and his chest fills with fondness. so maybe he answered the question correctly. the young girl seems satisfied enough.

and when it's over he almost misses all the innocent curiosity. but he can't ignore the relief he feels when he sees all the kids file out of the room and onto the next fun activity cora has planned for them. you're speaking with the mom who was sitting behind you when it ends. and instead of disrupting your conversation he decides to go to the bathroom while he has a free chance.

but law doesn't expect to see you, alone in the center of the entryway holding a baby and a diaper bag, when he exits the bathroom. you're cooing at her. fussing over the bow in her hair. bouncing her slightly in your arms until she giggles.

law also doesn't expect something akin to yearning that fills his chest. that makes his heart race. that unlocks something strange and unfamiliar in his mind. he can't approach you just yet. instead he stands out of your view and watches you. the baby plays with the pendant on your necklace. and you whisper something to her that law knows she doesn't understand. but you say it anyway. and you smile all the same.

well, law can't stand the sight. and he realizes that it's because it's a temporary one.

“where’d you get that?” he asks when he finally approaches you. the baby decides she's tired and rests her head on your shoulder. it's cute. and also weird how natural it looks. law's uncomfortable.

“are you referring to the baby?” you laugh incredulously. it shakes the baby but she doesn't seem to mind.

"yes," he says slowly accompanied with a single nod.

"her mom had to go sign some paperwork for her son. she's somewhere around here with cora and i offered to watch her until she was done," you answer easily. like it's a normal occurrence for you to be holding stranger's babies.

"and she trusted you?"

"i'm not gonna kidnap her!" you say with another laugh. "even though, she is cute enough to steal."

the baby reaches for law. her hands are tiny and chubby and she's trying to grasp his necklace. she seems to be fascinated by them.

"aw, she likes you," you gush but feeling his tension you angle her away from him. he's grateful for it. but he doesn't stop staring at you. he can't. since when are you so good with babies? this one hasn't even cried and she just met you.

"ah, thank you so much!" her mom returns, scooping her child from your arms and offering you a relieved smile.

"it was no problem. she was an angel," you grin, leaning over to tickle the baby until she giggles. "we're kinda besties now."

and the whole way home, law thinks about you. the baby. you and the baby.

you with his baby.

that's his last thought before he pulls into the driveway.

"i was thinking pasta for dinner," you say flippantly as you get out of the car. he can't answer because he's distracted.

"maybe pesto?" you ask as you unlock the front door to your house. you two spend most of your time here because of chopper. but he doesn't mind because he likes the smell. and being surrounded by you.

what would you look like pregnant?

he stops abruptly behind you and you don't even notice. you just flit around your home like everything is normal. and for you it is. but law is somehow dying inside? or maybe this is the most alive he's ever felt...

"you alright, weirdo?" you finally notice how he's just standing there as you set your purse down on the dining room table. and he looks at you, glances down at your belly, eyes your hips, and suddenly his thoughts are vulgar and wholly unnecessary.

"do you want kids?" he blurts out, hands balling into fists before his fingers flex.

"what?" you say stunned, pausing your approach towards him. you blink up at him as if you're stuck in a glitch. and your lips are stuck somewhere between a smile and grimace.

"today," he starts, taking a measured step towards you, "when you were holding that baby you looked happy."

"i like babies," you titter.

"do you want one?" he asks again, but closer to you this time.

"i'd prefer a ring first," you reply shrewdly. "but i'm not opposed to practice."

"i wasn't coming onto you," he shakes his head amused, backing you up against the table.

"just in," you whisper, delighted with yourself. "at least you were thinking about it."

"and what gave me away?" his hips press into you, his hands finding your waist and bunching up the fabric of your shirt.

"well for one," you glance down, "you're hard."

"and two?" he slips his hands under your shirt, splaying his fingers across your stomach.

"you're asking me about babies." you hop onto the table, lifting your skirt to rest above your knees and spreading your legs. "and we've never talked about babies before."

"maybe not," he says, leaning over to bury his face in your neck. "i've never really thought about them. about having kids."

your hand cards through his hair as he breathes in the scent that's sunken into your skin. and for as turned on as he his, he can't stop his muscles from relaxing into you. he bears most of his weight down onto you. and he knows he's heavy. but you seem to hold him up regardless.

"and what's different now?" you're breathless. he hasn't even begun touching you the way he wants.

"you, obviously," he taunts, kissing your collarbone and you tug his hair at his tone. he nips at your neck in retaliation.

"no, i wanna know what you're thinking." you pull his face out from where he was so comfy against your shoulder.

"tell me." your hand covers his where it rests on your stomach. your lips ghosts his when you whisper, "please."

he kisses you, but not because he has a choice. but because your pull is too strong. he'd do anything you asked. it would be an issue if this was one sided, but law knows how infrequently you say no to him.

"i want to have kids, but only with you," he says between kisses. "want to get you pregnant. want to see you holding our baby."

you gasp and your head falls back. "do you want that too?"

"jeez, law," you whine, "you can't just spring this on me. not like this."

he's referring to the hand that's traveling up your thigh. to the hand that's gripping your skirt and shoving it over your hips.

"i think this is the perfect time to discuss children," he smiles against your lips, wiggling your underwear down your thighs until it drops to your ankles.

"fine," you admit, "your babies. i'll have yours, but i expect a good push present."

he chortles despite himself. laughs as he unbuttons his jeans. "whatever you want. its yours."

he kisses you harder as he frees himself and lines up with your entrance.

"wait, you're not gonna-" you break the kiss to stare down between your legs. there's not much to see since your skirt is covering up the real view.

"no, we're practicing." he pushes you onto your back, bringing your hips to the edge of the table. and without a second thought. without an ounce of regret. he sinks into you for the first time without anything separating you.

god, he's not gonna last. you pulse around him and you're so wet. so warm. he nearly chokes. a dam has been broken. thoughts flood his mind. he needs to fill you. he needs to cum inside you. to see you round with his baby. to see you coo and giggle and fuss over his baby.

perfect. you're perfect. he can't imagine life without you. and as his thrusts quicken-- as his strokes deepen-- a future he's never considered but now consumes him flashes through his mind. you. a wedding. a pregnancy test. building a crib. watching as you babble over tiny clothes.

you. here. with him. moaning as you fist his shirt and grind down on him. begging for more. locking your ankles around the small of his back.

"wanna feel you." you smear the words slurred and moist across his cheek. "want you to cum inside me."

his grip tightens on your hips. you don't wince, even though he knows it's gonna bruise in the morning.

"yeah?" he replies, not thinking properly. just needing to give you exactly what you want.

"yes, yes, please," you nod. you're whinier than you've ever been. desperate. clawing at his clothes.

"oh-k," he stutters when you clench around him. "i can do that for you."

the air gets knocked out of him. or maybe it gets stuck in his chest. maybe he's suffocating on it. as he comes inside of you hard and hurried and hopelessly.

he doesn't know how long it takes for him to calm down. to feel his toes again. to get rid of the tingles that ripple down his body and then back up again.

all he knows is that you're fluttering around him and squirming beneath him. releasing short, yet satisfied noises directly into his ear.

"every time i think i know you," you simper, still catching your breath, "you go and surprise me."

he's confused. law didn't really think of himself as unpredictable. "how?"

"i mean, underneath all that seriousness and bravado, who would've thought you'd be into this?" you slip your hand down between your thighs. you lift your skirt. showing him the mess he's making. he's leaking out of you. and he's still inside of you. he's almost impressed.

"i should start tracking my cycle, though." you gather some of his cum on your fingers. "wouldn't want any accidents."

and then you lick them clean. law has no idea what he's gonna do with you.

part thirteen

#did i give law a breeding kink?#why yes #it seemed like the right thing to do #neighbor!law au #trafalgar law #law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #shortnspicy🌶️

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