#this man is the LAST on this entire list I would want to talk to I would just throw everything on Tan while we shop ngl
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I have so many problems with karamo but the s8 finale… he sees an asian woman who has severe trauma surrounding her father due to (some) asian culture(s) not allowing people to properly talk to their parents about their emotions or issues with them because that could be seen as disrespectful, oui? so she hasn’t spoken to him after her mother died and that is hard, yes?
and this man chooses to surprise her in the car (after making her cry) with an unannounced FaceTime call with said father, which forces her to immediately talk about why she’s upset with him after three years of not speaking??????? without being prepared, without knowing what to say to a stubborn elderly asian man who never learned to deal with his emotions and fucked up because of it? REALLY?
the LEAST he could have done was tell her in advance so she could write it down for herself and so she could be prepared
sure they talked. sure they made a start. but at what cost. what violence did this wreak on her for no reason. jesus CHRIST THIS MAN ANGERS ME SO MUCH
#queer eye#spoilers#I guess#there’s maybe (1) season in all 8 where I wasn’t pissed at Karamo’s ‘therapy’#this man is the LAST on this entire list I would want to talk to I would just throw everything on Tan while we shop ngl#I love this show DONT get me wrong but SOOOOOOO many times karamo has the right idea but the complete wrong execution#also what the FUCK was that whole thing in dentons episode?#he tells you the school for the deaf is at risk of closing down due to funding#aka big societal capitalistic issue that speaks volumes about what’s wrong with our society#and karamo decides to hit him with ? you’re scared to fail? You’re too hard on yourself#NO SHIT HES SCARES TO FAIL THERES CLOSE TO NONE SPORT EDUCATION SCHOOLS FOR THE HARD OF HEARING#AND HES TRYING TO SAVE THE ONLY ONE STANDING IN THE AREA NO SHIT HES SCARED#HELLO?????????#Don’t even get me started on that episode where he suddenly pulled in the guy who put the hero in a wheel chair by shooting him#without announcement#(I forgot their names it’s been a while apologies)#like sorry#my dude you can’t do this that’s insanely#triggering#??!?!??????!??!?#anyways. whew.#I bawled my eyes out at the season finale like it ticked all the boxes just now but fucking karamo#I swear to god.#be better try harder maybe ask an actual therapist#fuck me dude#it’s for the best I was never selected for this show because oh my god he triggers my fight instinct#would make for good tv though I guess
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☆┆MY LAST NAME BELONGS TO YOU!
SUMMARY: writing your name out, with his last name!
CHARACTERS: basketball club + azul and leona
GENRE: fluff
WARNINGS: reader is referred to as [mc] – not really a warning, just kinda cringe – mentions of pursuing marriage in floyd and azuls part
ROMANTIC, RELATIONSHIP IS UP TO READER
reader is g/n, reader is yuu
♥️┆ACE TRAPPOLA
“man, this stinks..”
ace whispered under his breath as professor trein droned on with the lesson. he was struggling to keep his eyes open. as much as he wanted to just fall asleep in the middle of the lesson, he really really didn’t want to add to his homework pile.
that’s just more precious hours of his day wasted. all the repetitive sounds were oddly enough lulling him to sleep. the grating sounds of grim snoring, the weird twang noise deuces rubber band was making, and the sounds of pencils writing against paper.
“hey deucy, make sure not to fall asleep.” he whispered to ace, as if he wasn’t about to do the same. deuce gives him a look, about to open his mouth before trein had looked in their direction. ending their banter immediately.
to keep himself awake, ace started doodling in his notebook. not in the corner as most would, no he began doodling on a brand new sheet of paper. curious as to what you were doing, it seems you were notetaking at first.
but getting a closer look, you were doing the same as him. doodling in the notebook, barely paying attention to the lesson. he snickered, deep down grateful that he wasn’t the only one not paying attention.
‘hah. look at that idiot, not paying attention. they’d have to work twice as hard without magic. hehe.’ ace thought, shifting his attention to staring at you. though he was focused on you, his hands still mindlessly doodled across the page. completely unaware of what he was writing.
deuce glances over his shoulder, eyes widening at what he managed to read. “ace?! i.. i never would’ve thought this was your level of dedication..” deuce says to ace, confusing the boy. “eh? deuce what are you talking about—“
ace looks at the paper. his handwriting was messy since he wasn’t paying attention but it was certainly legible.
[MC] TRAPPOLA
he shuts the notebook hastily, emitting a loud thud noise to echo in the classroom. all eyes were on him. including yours. he whistles as if nothing happened, face flushed a light pink color. trein grunts, and continues on with the lesson.
🦁┆LEONA KINGSCHOLAR
“how’d i get stuck here..”
leona mumbles, sitting at his desk in what felt like forever. his plans to skip were officially ruined as you dragged him to his classroom before he could make it to the botanical garden. usually he’d just brush off anybody getting in his way of a good nap, but you looked so persistent in getting him here.
so begrudgingly, he took his seat in class with a huff as the professor continued his lesson. does he regret it? sort of. you looked satisfied and proud when he listened to you, so he’ll oblige for now. he can just ask for a reward later as a thanks for his compliance. he’s mentally making a list of things you could do for him..
joining him for his afternoon nap, fetching him lunch, coming to a spelldrive club practice, the list goes on. his blissful thoughts were then interrupted as the professor placed a paper worksheet in front of him. a worksheet? those are barely ever given out to students..
“kingscholar, this is a sheet of things you must catch up on as a result of your frequent absences. surely you can finish this by the end of the week since you seem to have much free time.” the professor spoke, handing him a pencil and leaving him off to writing.
“haah.. I shouldn’t have listened to that damn herbivore.” he sighs, slouching in his seat and reviewing the sheet in front of him. ‘i already know all this..’ leona thinks, stretching his arms out getting ready to nap. the least he could do is write out his name and do the rest when he feels like it. instead of his name, it was something else entirely.
[MC] KINGSCHOLAR
his ears drop down, his eyes widened, and his cheeks got darker. he followed his first instinct and crumbled the worksheet, ensuring nobody could read what he had just written. the professor glares at him and makes his way over to his seat. “mr. kingscholar.. i hope you know that’d be a rather large part of your grade. we wouldn’t want you to be held back another, would we?”
“tch..” leona scoffs, trying to look away from any of the attention he was receiving. the class ends as soon as it has started, thankfully with no more incidents. leona was just glad nobody has seen what he has written and that he can escape this situation as quickly as possible.. or so he thought.
“roi du leon!” an all too familiar face calls out.
oh no.
🐙┆AZUL ASHENGROTTO
azul sat in his office, filing through the contracts he had made in the past month. many let their minds wander when sitting at a desk for 2 hours or so, and azul is no exception.
eventually growing bored and tired of looking through the deals he made, he took out a notepad and simply wrote out his thoughts. at first he thought this was a dumb idea, but his mother insisted he try it and it has been working ever since.
his mind always felt at ease once the notebook was pulled out. but today felt a little different. he was happy, but today he felt more excited than anything.
he had a dumb lovestruck smile on his face, lightly giggling as he wrote. what on earth? his face was flushed and warm, but he didn’t mind it one bit.
[MC] ASHENGROTTO
he would’ve never thought something so simple would’ve gotten him so worked up. it was just your name and his surname. what was so special?
that’s what he would’ve thought in the past. now, he began to imagine a future of you and him in the coral sea.. a house together.. you meeting his mother.. his stepfather.. it made him feel all giddy. like a schoolgirl if you will.
his love fantasies were inevitably cut short as he heard a knock on the door. “ne, azul. shrimpy is here to see ya.”
panicked that you and floyd might see his notes, he hurriedly opened his drawer and slams it shut. the thud can be heard on the other side of the door, confusing you. “a-ahem.. come in!”
as he saw you, his fantasies began to boot back up. a wedding.. dates at mostro lounge.. it sounded like paradise. every fiber of his being was fighting the primal urge to make you a sign a contract. a contract in which you’d agree to be his life partner. forever, and ever.
🦈┆FLOYD LEECH
not feeling like attending classes, floyd skipped out on the lesson. he knows he’d get scolded by azul later, but if he doesn’t feel like going he don’t wanna.
since you were in classes, the teachers had pushed him out before he even got to you. even despite his protests! floyd complains at the closed door, trying to open it back up.
“eh? why can’t i just take shrimpy and go? lessons are borin’ anyway.” he complains, causing you to hide your head from all the eyes staring at you. all this attention pointed more at you than at floyd..
“leech.. that’s quite enough. go back to your class and come back for this.. “shrimpy” later. interrupting a lesson is NOT what a mage of the future should be doing.” the teacher retorts, now ignoring floyd and his remarks.
“tch.” getting tired of trying to pull you out, floyd retreats to his room in octavinelle. he flopped onto his bed, a pen in hand and a notebook in front of him. jade said drawing is a good time killer or whatever, so he’ll do just that. in all honesty, it won’t take long for him to get bored of this activity and look for something else.
floyd being floyd, just wrote or drew whatever first came to mind. there were tiny drawings of shrimps all over the page. an occasional eel to be seen next to it. he laughed and smiled looking at the page before him. “ehe.. there are shrimpys all over this paper—!”
he writes out another thought that came to his mind. it wasn’t a shrimp drawing, neither was it an eel. the handwriting was slightly shaking being on an uneven and unstable surface, but you can tell what it says.
[MC] LEECH
[MC]? ohhh, that’s your name! leech? that’s his last name! he didn’t truly process what he had wrote, but he knew the implications of it. you being a leech.. to change your last name..
you typically marry a person of interest.. and that person of interest typically inherits the others last name..
hey! person of interest is you! you’re his person of interest! just wait shrimpy! you better save that ring finger just for him!
and 5 minutes later he gets bored, tosses the notebook to the side and goes back to terrorize your classroom again.
🐍┆JAMIL VIPER
jamil sat in the scarabia lounge, finally finishing up dinner for the day. kalim was held up in club activities, and basketball practice has been cancelled due to the fact over half of the members were injured thanks to floyd and aces negligence.
this was a rare moment where he actually had time to himself. nobody to interrupt him in his peaceful state of mind. jamil walked over to his room, locking the door behind him and laying flat onto his bed.
he stares up at the ceiling, unsure what to do with this free time. homework? no he already did it all. check up on kalim? no, why would he ruin his moment of peace like that. check up on you? …
what a ridiculous idea. he doesn’t have time for that. well he does but.. ugh. having time to himself isn’t as relaxing as he made it out to be. especially considering he never had a moment to himself in forever.
jamil figured to keep himself occupied, he can make a bucket list. many people make bucket lists, surely this’ll help him plan his future, right? he grabs a pen and a sheet of paper and began to brainstorm.
obviously seeing the world is one of them. that’s something he wanted to do for as long as he could remember. his mind blanks. so far, his only desire was to travel. far far away from kalim. a thought occurred in his mind.
“..they have to be putting a spell on me or something.” jamil mutters, massaging his temple. he tried wiping the thought clean from his mind, but there was no luck. it annoyed him that such a simple thought was enough to leave him flustered.
[MC] VIPER
he wrote it onto a separate sheet of paper. examining it with a slight smirk. his cheeks were tinted a slightly darker shade, signs of him blushing. “their name doesn’t go well with my surname. what a shame.”
he’s lying. hearing your name with his last is like music to his ears, as much as he’d hate to admit it. surely enough he rips the paper into shreds and tosses it into a nearby trashbin, going out on a walk to clear his clouded mind.
you must’ve put a spell on him. he shouldn’t be having such fantasies of you and him traveling the world together.
A/N: this kinda sucks but it’s better than nothing lmao
date published: 1/6/23
© temiizpalce — don’t steal or copy my work!
#disney twst#twisted wonderland fluff#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twst fluff#twst wonderland#twst x reader#twst#ace trappola x reader#leona kingscholar x reader#azul ashengrotto x reader#floyd leech x reader#jamil viper x reader
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Tag list: @sh-tposter2021 @casmosmoon @hoesindifferentshows @daffodildelight @stuckinaoaktree @this-is-music @good-so @farleyis @starksdaughter20
Part 1
It has been a couple of days since your confession and Hobie was conflicted on whether he should rip the preverbal bandaid off and tell you of his secret identity, and possibly putting you at risk for potentially dangerous circumstances in the future, or keep you in the dark for a little while longer until he felt brave enough with himself and his situation to come forward; After all personal relationships -whether platonic or romantic- and Spider-Man never went well together. It was a sacrifice placed upon the shoulders of all variations who were chosen to dawn the mask of Spider-Man.
For if the legacy of being Spider-Man was a death sentence to those who are close, Hobie doesn’t want you death to be treated as his ‘canon event’ or whatever hand fisted bullshit excuse Miguel was trying to ram down everyone’s throats in order to justify in allowing a loved one of theirs to die. Hobie refuses that being the case and due to his righteous mistrust of Miguel, he kept your name out of his mouth unless it was within the presence of the few he could trust; Miles, Pavitr and Gwen.
‘So they have a crush on you.’ Pavitr began.
‘Yeah.’
‘And you have a crush on them.’ Miles jumped in.
‘Ain’t no point in hiding it.’ Hobie cooly replied because why should he bother hiding the obvious.
‘So…what’re you going to do about it?’ Gwen finishes and Hobie only shrugs in response, ‘dunno.’
Pavitr made an face of exaggerated shock and looks over at Miles and Gwen, who were already expecting this reaction from him as they exchanged looks with him, before looking back at Hobie. ‘Dunno, the person you like has expressed that they like you too-‘ ‘-it wasn’t me they were talking to Pav, it was Spider-Man, clear difference. No need to rom-com it.’ Pavitr waved his comment away and continues on his tangent, ‘they like you, you like them and your response to all that is; Dunno?!’ Hobie -again- shrugs. He really didn’t know what to do, yes the feelings between you two were mutual but that didn’t mean he was going to risk your safety over them; no matter how deeply he feels them to the point where the mere idea of you being put at risk because of him acting out of his selfishness in having you, made him physically hurt.
Hobie would rather enact upon his selfishness in a way that meant letting you go and moving on to someone who wasn’t going to be putting your life in constant danger, whilst also getting to shamelessly cling onto some part of you in the process; even if that meant just being your friend, even though he already knew that wasn’t what you wanted. ‘What do you want me to do Pavitr?’ Hobie began, ‘Go up to them and be like ‘remember the talk you had with Spider-Man up on the roof? Yeah that was me and no I’m not having a laugh because I like you too.’ He made a face at this, ‘nah I’d rather them call me a nonce for the rest of my life, well that is if they still want me in their life afterwards for lying to them this entire time.’ He murmurs the last part to himself mostly and it was silent for a while as he, Pavitr, Gwen and Miles sat on what has been said.
The later three shared a look between them as Hobie looked at a picture of the two of you that he kept within the pockets of his vest, smiling softly to himself as the echos of your laughter ran in his head like a melody he could set his soul adrift to on his most sleepless of nights. It was obvious to Gwen, Pavitr and Miles that Hobie held you close to his chest, right where his heart is; Gwen in particular was aware of how much of an impact you had on Hobie from the times she spent at his place and it was obvious as to where it was that you touched as Hobie made it apparent to keep it that way. You’ve made a home for yourself within Hobie’s heart and she knew that he’d fight to keep you in his life.
‘Hobie,’ he lifted his eyes to meet theirs, ‘would you rather be afraid to tell them who you are for the rest of your life, or tell them while you still have the chance because from what you’ve already told us about y/n, they wouldn’t hate you or call you a nonce, whatever that is.’ Miles mumbled under his breath as Hobie raised his brows, ‘has it crossed your mind at all that you might just overthinking all this? Not to say the fear ain’t real, what I’m trying to get at is this; you should pursue what makes you happiest, regardless of the fears you may have because in the end isn’t it better to have love and lost then to have never have loved at all?’
Hobie mulled on Miles’ advice once he got back to his reality before finding himself standing on that very same rooftop where his conflict began, looking down as he clutched his mask between both hands in contempt, so much so that he didn’t even hear your voice call out to him until you were right next to him. ‘Hobie? Everything alright?’ He had told you prior to meet up on the rooftop of some abandoned apartment complex that you were more then camisole with at this point, but the way he said it made you feel as though there was something eating away at your best friend and you weren’t about to let him go through anything alone without you.
Upon realising how close you were to him, Hobie was slick enough to hide his mask behind his back when he addressed you, stuffing it into his back pocket so that you wouldn’t get overly curious as to his hand placement but then again you were always as observant as him when he noticed the way your eyes lingered, like you already knew what this was about; to which Hobie wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case for it would make this situation a lot easier for you to process what you already knew. ‘Yeah, everything’s cool, why is it that you think somethings up?’ The raise of your brows only told Hobie that you weren’t buying it, ‘oh I think there is but it looks to me that you need a little prompting.’ and without missing a beat your hand was halfway to reaching for his back pocket when he caught your wrist, holding it there as he looked at you incredulously. ‘The hell was that for knobhead.’
You shrugged, ‘like I said, you needed prompting otherwise you wouldn’t be defending whatever’s in your back pocket so adamantly as you are now.’ You were smart, Hobie had to give you that as he lets go of your wrist and decides to quit the unnecessary prolonging and pulled out the mask from his back pocket, chucking it into your awaiting hands as he then sat himself near to the edge with his back facing you so he couldn’t see the look upon your face when you say, ‘so this is what you were hiding from me…I knew Spider-Man felt too familiar and now I know why.’ He heard your footsteps get closer before stopping all together as you sat yourself next to him.
You were both silent but it was a silence loud enough to dampen out anything else in that moment and Hobie didn’t know where this silence would lead to, and neither did you as you were now realising that you had confessed your feelings to your best friend without knowing it; which was already enough to take in but for that friend to also be spider-man was a whole other thing to unpack. Where you mad that he didn’t tell you? No, not even in the slightest but you were more worried then you could ever be mad, after all you just found out your crush and best friend was spider-man for fuck sakes so of course you’d be more worried for his well being. ‘Here,’ you tell him, holding out his mask for him to take, ‘you can have it back.’ Hobie did as you asked and took his mask back, but before it was fully in his grasp you yanked it away from his reach, causing him to look at you.
‘Give it.’ He tells you straightforwardly but you stood your ground as you pressed a finger to your cheek, ‘not until you tell me something first; did you know I had a crush on you prior.’ Hobie shrugs. ‘No, honestly it wasn’t until but you admitted that you liked me that somethings started to make sense.’ You hummed, content with his answer but you weren’t through quite yet. ‘Do you…feel the same.’ You once again asked but this time your voice wasn’t as steady and strong, it was fearful and hesitant; something Hobie never wants you to be when near him.
‘Of course I do, I thought I made it obvious when I personally dealt with those who chatted shit about you behind you back, I thought it was obvious that when I let you into my heart, that there would be no way that I was letting you go but with this,’ he gestured to the mask in your outstretched hand, ‘made it all the more harder for me to do that without putting you in danger; I was hiding this other life from you to protect you but you were always too observant for your own good but it’s one of the many things I love about you.’ Hobie admits, happy he finally got it off of his chest. After hearing all that, you gave him back his mask and rested your head against his shoulder, murmuring, ‘your such a hassle.’
Hobie smiled for what felt like the first time in a long while throughout this whole situation and slugged his arm over your shoulder before resting his head on top of yours, ‘yeah but I’m your hassle.’ He says before pressing a kiss to your head, feeling you as you snuggle into his side, smiling to yourself, ‘how unfortunate.’ You say half heartedly as Hobie joins in, ‘yeah, poor you.’
#spiderman across the spiderverse#across the spiderverse#spider man: across the spider verse#spiderman atsv imagines#spiderman atsv x you#spiderman atsv#spiderman atsv imagine#spiderman atsv x reader#spiderman atsv fic#atsv x reader#hobie brown x you#hobie brown imagine#hobie brown imagines#hobie x reader#hobie brown x reader#hobie brown fluff#spiderpunk x reader
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Imagine telling Luffy about why you don’t like Shanks…
“Why are you always so upset with Shanks?” Luffy wondered.
You brushed the young boys damp curls and twirled a finger around each strand to define the shape.
“He and I used to travel the seas, you know? We fought sea beasts and all kinds of pirates together.”
Luffy leaned forward. “Really? Was it cool?”
“Very cool and dangerous.” You reminded him with a small hair ruffle to set him back on the chair properly. “We were caught in an ambush and I was injured. Shanks brought me home, promising that we’d set off again after I was healed.”
Luffy grew excited. Maybe if Shanks came for you, he could also be taken along for the journey.
“Are you healed? Do you know when he’ll take you?” He asked.
You frowned and replied rather bitterly. “I was healed up over four years ago.”
Shanks had the audacity to pay a visit these last few months and spend time with Luffy while pretending like nothing had happened. It infuriated you and Luffy clearly caught wind of it.
There was a knock at the door. Your eyes darted up to see Makino standing there with a smile for Luffy.
“The ship has made port.” She told the boy.
Luffy jumped off the seat and ran for the exit. “Sorry Y/n, I have to go!”
You sighed at his speed hoping that he’d be careful on his way to the docks.
Makino looked at you while you put the chair away. “Are you coming as well?” She asked and when you didn’t reply she continued. “He’s been asking for you.”
You glanced over your shoulder. “Tell him I-”
“I’m not telling him you drowned again. You’ll have to face him one way or another.” Makino said and then left to resume her duties at the bar.
Honestly, you’d rather not seek out the pirate who abandoned you. Let him have his fun. Yes, you couldn’t avoid him forever but you could reduce the hours in his presence.
And so that’s what you set out to do, you walked wherever the straw hat wasn’t. If he was at Party’s Bar, you were at home. If he was at the docks, you were by the furthest windmill.
You last saw the red-haired pirate downing a bottle of booze at the bar with his little curly haired shadow on the chair beside him. While they were busy, you decided to rearrange the furniture in your home finally able to tend to things that had been long neglected thanks to Luffy always running in and out of trouble.
Fixated on stacking books by the corner of the front room, you missed the soft padding of footsteps coming to a halt by the open door.
“I heard you ‘drowned’.” A voice said, sending chills down your spine. “Imagine my surprise when Luffy told me that you did his hair this morning.”
Shanks mused at you as he stood by the threshold of your door.
Damn, when did he leave the bar? You rolled your eyes and then turned around to place a blanket into a wooden drawer near to where he stood.
“Odd.” You hummed. “I thought you would have welcomed a lie? Aren’t you filled with them or is that only when they’re directed at me?”
Shanks stepped into the room and took your hand to stop you from walking to the next task. He knew exactly what you were referring to. For months you both had avoided the topic by the way you dodged him but this was finally the opening he needed to clear the air.
“I never lied. I fully intended to come back here in three months. But each danger I faced, every terror that sailed into our path and all I could see was the risk of losing you.”
You scoffed at him. Captain Shanks of the Red-haired Pirates was scared? You were surprised his nose hadn’t grown.
Not wanting to talk further, you attempted to leave the house entirely when the man who stole your heart caught you once more.
“Hey,” Shanks took the reins and guided you to the wall, gently bracing you against it. He was tired of the anger of the anger in your eyes, only wanting you to see him like you once did. His hands settled in their rightful place on your waist.
“There are very few things that I am afraid of - but from that list, the fear of losing you is at the very top.”
As you stared in his warm eyes, you were reminded of a saying he often said aboard calmer seas and private moments.
Shanks gazed back at your face, the one he was deprived of seeing each day. He brought one hand to rest against your chest and raised your own to sit above his own. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against yours in a delicate kiss before pulling away gently.
“I’m not a selfish man by nature.” He whispered. “But for your life and your love, I can be.”
~ More imagines here ~
#theladyofmanyfandoms#theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction#gif is not mine#shanks opla imagine#shanks x you#shanks imagine#shanks x reader#opla!shanks x reader#opla!shanks imagine#opla imagine#opla x reader#one piece live action imagine#one piece imagine#one piece x reader#akagami no shanks imagine
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ALL MINE (Ony)
"You come here, I'll knock your pussy out the damn frame. Remember the last time I made you miss your damn plane? Remember the last time I wet you down with champagne?"
A/N: Hey! I'm down bad for this man rn, lol. I've got lots of ideas for him though, so yay! Happy reading :) Inspired by @lingeriae and this post! Requests are open, too! Get at your girl.
Warning(s): Explicit Sexual Content; Penetrative Sex (p in v), Oral Sex (F receiving), Cursing, Public Sex (Outdoors), Cervix kissing, Wedding details, N Word Used, Black reader in mind, AAVE/Dialogue with Dialect, Dominant!Ony (when tf is he not in my mind), Depiction of marijuana usage, Depictions of alcohol consumption, Mild Dubious Consent; Beta'd by my besties <3
Pairing: Ony x Wedding Planner!Reader
Song Inspo: All Mine - Brent Faiyaz
His eyes drilled into the side of your head, trailing the curves of your body.
As maid of honor, your dress was a little different from the other bridesmaids. Make no mistake, your girls looked good with a t on the end. You made sure of that, but you all agreed upon something more…tailored for the lady making the most moves. So, your dress was designed to your tastes and fit you like a glove. It accentuated all your assets and Onyankopon was taking stock.
The two of you had only fucked once but there was this heightened tension ever since.
During the entire wedding process, Ony had been a pain in your ass. Because he was the best man, the two of you had to collaborate on many of the joint events-- like the Engagement Party and Bridal Party mixers. He was a terrible flirt and spent most of his time trying to get in your pants. Then, if it wasn’t you, he was flirting with any lady he could. And they would swoon just as soon as Ony flashed that handsome, megawatt smile of his.
But for some reason, Ony liked the challenge you posed. The way you were resistant to his charms. Unfortunately for you, Ony was interested in you. He liked you.
You dealt with his bullshit for a good while, putting in a valiant effort because you were doing your best friend and fellow soror, Kendra, a favor. Y’all went back to diapers and stuck together through everything. You were a celebrity event coordinator, specializing in weddings, so you were doing double duty by being her maid of honor and planning the entire wedding. But shit hit the fan between you and Ony the night of the final Bridal Party mixer. The two of you got into a huge blowout fight that ended with your cute little cocktail dress torn and strewn about the floor of Ony’s hotel room, his tongue licking champagne from places it shouldn’t have been.
“You doing so good, ma.” He had whispered, fucking you into his sheets.
You ended up missing your damn plane the next morning. Needless to say, he moved up on your list of people you wouldn’t mind spending time with. But he quickly moved back down the list after he ghosted you the next day. During the rehearsal dinner, you found him talking up some girl in the hotel lounge. He made eye contact with you as he flirted with her, looking away to give her his full attention.
So, you kept it cordial and cute after that. You acted like it didn’t bother you. Did he have amazing, life-changing dick that made you want to murder him and the bitch from the hotel lounge? Yes, yes he did. But were you a classy, sophisticated bitch who successfully planned a destination wedding while being the maid of honor and dealing with Ony’s shiesty ass? Yes, yes the fuck you were.
And no nigga was gonna make you second guess that shit.
The “Lounge Incident”, as your friends lovingly dubbed it, had happened a week ago. Fast forward to the present and there you were, watching your best friend dance and act a fool with the love of her life. You were happy for her, of course, but it did make you feel a little wistful.
The wedding ceremony wrapped up two hours prior and you found yourself nursing a glass of champagne at the reception. You were pretending to be unfazed by the looks Ony was sending you from across the room. You stole a glance at him when you felt like he wasn’t watching you and…dear Lord.
His white dress shirt was tucked into his green slacks, suit jacket long forgotten, with a few of the top buttons opened. His gold chain shined at you, almost winking, as it matched the gold Rollie on his wrist. He flashed a smile to one of his homeboys and you felt your knees wobble a little. You looked away quickly and crossed the room to find your girls. They were standing around one of the reception tables talking.
“Aht, don’t bring that energy over here, ma’am!” Your friend, Chelsea, said. “That man look like he ‘bout to jump your ass.”
“Please tell me y’all not about to fuck at this wedding,” Liyah groaned.
Your girls laughed loudly and you hid a smile behind your champagne glass as you took a sip. You risked a glance back at Ony, finding his gaze already on you. He didn’t care to hide the fact he was staring at you, not even giving the young lady in front of him a glance as she spoke to him. You whipped around, clearing your throat.
“Bye, girl. It ain’t even like that.”
The table went quiet, all the girls looking over your shoulder. A shit-eating grin spread across Chelsea’s face as she raised her hand, waving playfully.
“Hey, Ony.”
Your eyes widened as his chest pressed against your back, his warmth surrounding you. You tried to pretend to be unbothered as your friends gawked with wide eyes and smirks.
“Hey, ladies.”
The smile was evident in his voice, sending chills down your spine. But you took a sip of your champagne with a neutral face, not acknowledging him. In truth, you didn’t need to. He leaned down so that his mouth was close to your ear, hands braced on the table as he trapped you against his chest. His chain brushed your neck, not helping the goosebumps erupting all over your skin. His words, low so only you could hear them, didn’t help either.
“Say bye to your lil friends so I can eat your pussy.”
He paused as you turned your head slightly, your faces close to touching.
“And stop playing with me.”
His eyebrow arched at you as he pulled back, taking a sip from his whiskey glass. He addressed your friends again, setting the glass down.
“Ladies,” He said with a charming smile.
With that, he left you standing there as you slowly looked back to your friends who gaped back at you.
“Bye.” You said finally, scurrying from the reception hall as fast as your legs would carry you.
You found Ony outside the building, perched against the wall. A blunt hung from his lips as he gazed at you sidelong. You approached slowly, hips swaying with each step. His eyes never left yours as he sparked up and inhaled, exhaling the smoke slowly. You felt dizzy with need but you weren’t down that bad. Not yet.
You took the blunt as he passed it to you. You let the smoke soothe you before you exhaled. You took a few more pulls before passing it back to him.
“Take your panties off,” He said finally, after a long draw.
You tutted, crossing your arms.
“You just gon’ act like you ain’t ghost me, Ony?”
“I was wrong for that. But I'm here now, ain't it?” He said casually.
You rolled your eyes, turning to go back inside. He grabbed your arm and pulled you back to him, his lips pressing firmly against yours. His mouth teased yours, opening it as smoke billowed between the two of you. His arm slid down to your waist as you exhaled the smoke he gave you.
He took another pull, exhaling, before he looked back down at you.
“I told you stop playing with me.”
“Maybe I'm done with you," You bluffed. "Maybe I got me another nigga to fuck on now.”
Ony scoffed, tucking the rest of his blunt away for later.
“Aight, that’s enough of that shit,” He mumbled, grabbing your hand as he pulled you to the side of the building.
It was a more hidden spot, behind large bushes that wrapped around the front of the building and off to the side. From there, you could see guests entering and exiting but they couldn’t see you unless they were looking hard enough. Your eyes widened as he kneeled in front of you and shoved your dress up your legs. You swatted at his hands, panicking as your eyes darted around. Ony stilled, his gaze hard as he grabbed your hands and looked up at you.
“Don’t piss me off.”
Now, you were down bad.
You took a shaky breath as he released your hands, going back to bunching up your dress.
“Hold that,” He said, tossing your leg over his shoulder.
You did as he asked, taking the garment in your hands. Your body flushed with heat as he shamelessly nuzzled his nose against your soaked core, smelling your needy scent. He kissed your clothed core and pushed your panties aside, holding them in one hand as he slipped a finger into your dripping cunt. He moved the digit in and out, brushing against that soft spot inside you.
“Oh, fuck,” You whined, your head falling against the wall.
“Yeah, say that shit you was sayin’ now,” Ony taunted, sliding another digit inside. “This pussy all mine.”
You panted, bracing yourself with a hand on his shoulder, as you forced out your next question.
“What about that bitch from the lounge, Ony?”
“I was gonna try what she was offering, but she wasn’t you,” He said easily, his eyes glued to his fingers moving in and out of you. “Damn, ma. You sucking that shit in.”
“Ony,” You whimpered. “I don’t want to play no games with you--”
“I’m not. That shit not an offer to me when you’re around,” He said firmly. “Now, you gon’ keep complainin’ or you gonna let daddy eat his pussy?”
“Ony--”
Any rebuttal you had became a wanton moan as he didn’t wait for a response, his mouth descending on your clit as his fingers continued to move inside you. You covered your mouth with your hand, trying in vain to stifle the sounds of pleasure he was snatching from you. He pulled his fingers from you gently, spreading your sopping pussy wider as he fucked his tongue in and out of you.
He ate you out messily, drinking up your juices like sweet nectar. The slurping noises were lewd as he sucked on your clit, teasing it with his tongue before dipping it back into your weeping hole. His performance was drawing pathetic whines from your throat as you tried to keep the two of you from getting caught. Heat pooled in your belly as his mouth on your core drove you toward a heated finish.
Then, he stopped completely. You let out a confused moan as the pleasure waned, your orgasm evading you. The confusion didn’t last long, however, as you heard his belt coming undone. He pulled himself from his pants as he tore your panties. He hiked your leg around his waist and slid home without warning.
“Hold on to me,” He grunted, his other hand supporting your back.
You wrapped your arms around him, your head resting on his shoulder as he thrust into you. His pace was rough and deep, fucking you like he owned you. Maybe he did. Maybe you wanted him to. You muffled a scream into his shoulder as his length kissed your cervix, unrelenting as the drag of his cock against your tight walls sent you into oblivion.
“Fuck, baby,” He groaned. “You so tight f’me. Takin’ me so good.”
You choked back a sob as his tip brushed that soft spongy spot, bringing back the pool of pleasure from before. Ony noticed your reaction, angling his hips to hit it over and over again. Your whimpers and moans were his own private mixtape as you keened and cried in his ear. He stretched you so good, the feeling of being this full something new and foreign to you. Ony was a bad habit, and he was making sure you wouldn’t be able to kick him any time soon.
That pool of pleasure warmed further with each snap of his hips into yours. Your quiet, open-mouthed cries built in intensity as the temperature inside you began to rise, swirling like a tsunami. You felt yourself teetering on that delicate edge and so could Ony. He picked up the pace.
“You gonna cum on your dick?” He taunted, egging you on. “You gon’ show me who this dick belong to?”
Your climax crashed over you as you slapped a hand to your mouth, muffling the sob that broke free. He fucked you through your orgasm, prolonging it as your body seized around him. He could barely pull out, opting for shallow thrusts as you came down from your high.
You sagged against the wall, trying to catch your breath as Ony pulled out. He fixed your dress and smoothed it down around the hips. He tucked himself back into his pants and dug his wallet from his pocket, fishing out his room key.
He flashed it in front of your dazed face before placing it in your hand. He pulled you off the wall, making sure you looked good before nudging you in the direction of the front doors.
“Go to my room. Third floor, 303. I’ll be there in a minute.”
You looked down at the key card in your hand then back to him. He sparked up his blunt again, blowing out smoke as he smacked your ass.
“Go ‘head, ma. I’m coming.”
You jumped slightly from the impact and found your feet moving you out of the bushes. You stumbled back into the hotel lobby, walking on wobbly legs to the elevators with his room key clutched in your hand. Your girl, Chelsea, was coming from the restrooms as the two of you made eye-contact. She smirked, her eyes trailing over you. She subtly adjusted the top of her dress, nodding at you.
You took the hint, fixing yours.
She went back into the reception hall without a word as you fumbled to press the elevator button.
Your night was not over yet.
#onyankopon x reader#onyankopon x black y/n#ony x reader#onyankopon smut#onyankopon x black reader#onyankopon#aot onyankopon#black writer#black reader#my writing#Lyv's Library#Ony's Observatory#Fanfiction for black women#Black women#smut#Onyankopon x black!reader#Potential Series ;)#Wedding Planner!Reader
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Hey! Can I get dom!Lucifer x fem! Reader pretty pls? Like I love him being a sub, but I don't think there's enough smut of him being a dom 🙏🏽
Accidentally Taking Souls
summary: you accidentally sold your soul to lucifer, and he accidentally accepted it. it only happens every one in twelve million five hundred fifty seven thousand souls! which also means, you're the first.
tags: PANIC ATTACK, comfort, biting, porn with plot basically, not very good friends, dom!lucifer, drunken confessions, but not DRUNKEN sex, choking (consensual), fingering, breeding kink, surprise at the end
word count: 4k
a/n: this was already sorta on my to-do list, a lucifer x reader shot, then alastor x reader x lucifer shot, but it also fit your ask so !! apologies for delays :) i'm getting to them (a bit slowly...)
Truthfully, you weren’t religious. Your mother had always been, however. She would drag you to church, and make you pray almost all the time. Once you moved out for college, you never looked back.
When she died, she left nothing to you, but a single slip of paper. ‘Don’t sin.’
You truly didn’t care at that point, you didn’t believe in everything she had spewed, and continued to warn you about, even in death.
She had always warned you about your friends, telling you that they were demons who had risen from Hell to make you sin. It was truly baffling for her to spout her nonsense, especially in front of your friends themselves.
And yet, those very same friends were on your living room floor, staring at you with various smiles of pure delight.
“You want me to do what?”
“It’s not a want, (Name)... It’s a dare.”
You groaned; you were tired of this. “Why are you daring me to sell my soul? To the devil?”
One of your friends just smirked. “He’s not real, right? You shouldn’t have a problem.”
Blinking, you just took a deep breath, and shrugged your shoulders. “You’re right.” You said simply, and sat down.
One of the girls had unfurled from her position on the floor, digging into her bag. “Here.” She started, beginning to take out various things. “I can help you!”
You furrowed your eyebrows, thoroughly confused. “I don’t just say ‘have my soul devil’?”
“Damn (Name), I didn’t expect you to be that dumb.” She joked, bringing a needle to your hand. “No, it doesn’t go like that. If the deal is accepted, you’ll be in Hell.... maybe. That’s what the occult book told me.” She shrugged, pricking your finger, and dropping blood messily. “I just have to draw some runes...”
After the entire ordeal was over, especially the disastrous game of truth and dare, you retired for the night, concluding that you didn’t want to be up any longer and overthink what just happened.
Your friends had cheerily bid you goodbye, and you had waved them away, telling the group you’ll talk to them in a few days.
The last thing you could remember was the pleasant feeling of your sheets, and the cool squishmallow in your arms.
You awoke slowly, you felt as if you were drifting away... and then you felt someone poke at you.
Dismissing it, you turned away, until it registered in your head. Someone poked you.
You lived alone.
Jolting up in your bed, you looked around. There was a man towering you, grinning sheepishly. You let out a yell, keeping your plushie close to you as you kicked off the sheets covering you, falling off the bed.
Except that didn’t make sense, because your bed was just a mattress on the floor! It was close to the ground, and yet you dropped a good few inches from the ground.
Fear was coursing through your veins, and you felt an overwhelming sense of dread, followed by a serene calmness- but your adrenaline was still pumping, and your inner voice was screaming at you to get up, run run run run run RUN!
You jolted, trying to maneuver yourself to get up and start running away except when you glanced down you started to scream because of your skin tone-- it was a weird hue, definitely not natural, definitely not yours.
“Hey! Calm down- girl- fuck- bitch, calm down!” You let out a hiccup as your eyes flickered from your hands to the man. He seemed to be fiddling with something, before dropping it and orienting you.
“Sorry,” He huffed, and you managed to get a good look at him. His skin was milky white, and he had platinum blonde hair that was swooped locks. You looked away again, and he gently put you back on the bed. “Don’t fall off again.”
You sniffled, nodding. “Shit.... I don’t even know how this happened. Usually this is when people sell their souls... but I never...” He paused his pacing and muttering, turning to you.
Your hair was obstructing your face as you stared down at your lap, but when he approached you, you instantly stared at him. “Did you sell your soul... to me?”
“You aren’t the Devil.” You said instantly, before clapping a hand over your mouth. “I-”
The man just laughed. “No, you can call me Lucifer. Lucifer Morningstar.” He smirked, his grin wide and toothy as he looked at you with lidded vermillion eyes. “The ruler of Hell.”
You stared, mouth ajar.
And then laughed, boisterous and teetering to purely unsettling.
Lucifer stared at you as you laughed, and laughed... and wait-! No, you were still laughing.
“What’s so funny?” He huffed, a hand on his hip as you still was chuckling, tears in your eyes.
“Okay, I’m having a crazy lucid dream!” You snorted, and searched for a clock, staring at it intensely.
Lucifer cocked his head. “What are you doing?”
“Weird.” You muttered, staring at the clock even more. Why weren't the hands going haywire? Why was it normal?
You turned your eyes to your hands, studying it. It was... fine. Nothing was abnormal besides the fact your skin was a different color. You felt yourself panicking again, and you closed your eyes, willing for something different to happen.
Your panic began to increase dramatically as you heaved, tearing up as you looked at the clock again. You tried to take in breaths, but it was hard to even register that your lungs were burning.
Hands were gripping your wrists. You felt sick. Your head was pounding, and you knew you had to be yelling, because your throat ached and was scratchy. You could barely see, but you kept thrashing.
After a while, you felt all your energy zapped from you, you just slumped, sniffling and trying to catch your breath. Blearily, you watched as a muddled version of Lucifer appeared in front of you, looking you over.
“Ok?” He whispered, and you blinked slowly, tilting your head at him slowly. “Is- Did you settle? Uhm. Are you a bit okay now?”
You shrugged, and he wiped your tears, gently gathering you in his arms. His limber figure made his way to what appeared to be a bathroom, and your eyes widened at the sight of a huge bathtub. On the sides were a bunch of rubber ducks.
Lucifer gave you a mischievous look as he placed you down after stripping you down to your underwear, running the water warm.
“I made them.” He said, placing only certain ones in the water. “Some of these definitely cannot go in.” He moved a light blue one off to the side. “It produces voltage,” Lucifer explained, getting some bubble bath soap, and pouring it over the running water. In an instant, bubbles began to form around you.
You gave him a look. Because, really? Voltage duck?
He pouts a little. “I just... I made them.... Why not? It’s entertaining!”
You don’t know how creating ducks can be entertaining.
Lucifer gave a huge dramatic sigh, pushing his hair back, and bemoaned your inability to see how delightful his ducks were.
“You’re weird,” You uttered, your voice extremely scratchy. Lucifer winced, and quickly whirled his hand, a water bottle appearing.
“Here,” He said, motioning the water. “It’s cold.” It was cold. “Icy too.” Okay... “Maybe even...” You looked at him, as the water in your mouth began to get colder. “Pure ice.” Your mouth was beginning to get cold, really quickly. “Haha- sorry, bad prank?” Would it even be classified as a prank? More of an inconvenience, especially with how parched you were.
You stared at him silently, drinking more of the cold water that he provided. “So... I’m dead?” You whispered, glancing down at the bubbly surface.
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t expect to go to Hell so soon.” You muttered, looking around inconspicuously. It was very grand, fit for a king indeed.
Lucifer furrowed his brows, confused at your statement. “You knew you were going to Hell?”
You smiled gently. “Never listened to my mom. Super religious. Wasn’t my style.”
He hummed in response, and helped you finish cleaning up. You felt tired afterwards, and just wanted to sleep now that everything was done. Lucifer led you to a guest bedroom, sprucing up the surroundings a little. He gently tucked you in, and you gave a small noise of appreciation.
“I’ll show you around, later.”
You yawned, nodding.
“My daughter...” He had a daughter? “She has a hotel.”
“Mmm.”
Lucifer smiled at your sleepy sounds. “Supposed to redeem sinners.”
You turned over, groaning. “Go away... I don’t care...” You slurred, sleep clouding your head like a fog. “Ngh... wait.” You blinked rapidly, turning back to Lucifer. “What?”
He smirked. “Redemption of sinners?” He repeated, giving you a teasing look.
“Is it possible?!”
Lucifer inhaled. “I... don’t know. Maybe? I just like to support my daughter’s dreams.” He pauses. “Even if it’s a bit far-fetched, she believes in it.” Another huge pregnant pause. “If it does work, you won’t become a human, you’ll just be an angel.”
You turned away again. “Ugh.”
He snorted, and fixed your blankets. “Goodnight,” He crooned, placing a small rubber duck on your dresser. “You have to wake up really early tomorrow!”
He cackled when you just groaned.
After a few days of living like this, Lucifer deemed you ready to meet his daughter. When you inquired why before you couldn’t he just muttered about some sinner that would rip you to shreds. You didn’t really understand, but he seemed to hate that one sinner with a passion, so your questioning didn’t continue past that.
He led you to a huge building that had the words Hazbin Hotel in big letters at the top. You glanced at the infrastructure, cringing at some of the design choices. It was surely unique, although you knew it definitely needed some sprucing up.
“It’s pretty,” Was all that came out of your mouth. Lucifer gave you a half-hearted noise of acknowledgement, ringing the bell. You heard light footsteps, and as soon as the door began to open, Lucifer burst past it.
“CHARLIE!”
“Hi dad...”
You shifted from foot to foot, waiting for them to see you. “Oh!” There they go. “Sorry, sorry! Uh- how are you? What’s your name?” Charlie began to babble, leading you inside with gentle hands. “I’m Charlie!”
Lucifer was right by your side again, causing you to stumble. “(Name),” You offered weakly, gaining your balance again as Lucifer began to chuckle lowly next to you. “I...”
“She’s with me,” Lucifer said smoothly, smirking. “I have a favor to ask of you, Char-Char.”
Her attention was instantly on her father, head cocked to the side barely, questioning.
“She... accidentally sold her soul to me.” He started off slowly, and Charlie gave him a weird look.
“So? She shouldn’t be here unless you accept... Dad!” She yelled out at the end, and Lucifer winced. “How did you accidentally accept a soul??”
He groaned. “By accident, of course! Listen Charlie-”
“That poor girl-”
You looked back and forth tiredly, before clearing your throat. “What’s done is done,” You started, glaring at Lucifer lightly. “Besides, Luci has been helping me get accustomed to my new world. But we were hoping you knew how to redeem sinners so I can be redeemed.”
Charlie began to shift nervously. “Well- we don’t have a set method.”
You stared at her.
“We don’t have one sinner who’s been redeemed... yet.”
“Yet.” You parroted, giving her a blank look.
She bit her lip lightly. “Yes, yet. I’m sorry (Name), we are only just starting and I know being in Hell was a mistake.”
You felt numb, and can only barely register how Lucifer had lifted you up, pulling you away and whispering apologies against you. “Sorry,” He murmured, and you let out a soft sigh due to his hand on your scalp. “I’m so sorry, I thought she would have found a way already...”
“No need to apologize,” You huffed, blinking away unshed tears as he calmed you down. You still felt extremely upset, but it wasn’t truly anyone's fault.
Lucifer gave you an apologetic look still, before putting you down. You looked around, blinking. “Where are we?”
“Guest room,” Lucifer replied, fixing the sheets as you gained your bearings. The couch was ratty, with small tears on the cushions; the back of it was dingy, yet when you moved, it stayed steady despite the obvious damages.
You got up, and he motioned to the bed, smiling at you gently. “Want to sleep? It’s getting a bit late already.”
Confused, you gave him an inquiring look. He smiled sheepishly, motioning to the clock. “It’s the evening, I think your perception is a bit skewed...”
Right, your outburst. “Sorry,” You said, feeling guilty.
Lucifer just waved you off. “Do you want to sleep?” He asked, and you shook your head, looking at the door.
“Is there a place to get a drink?” You just wanted to get drunk, if you were being honest.
He hummed. “There’s a bartender, apparently.” He replied, taking your hand into his. “Steady,” He spoke lowly, as you stumbled a bit, letting him lead you down the hall.
You both made it to the bar, where you practically threw yourself at the stool, asking the bartender, apparently named Husk, to make you a strong drink.
He merely grunted in acknowledgment, turning away to start mixing it. Lucifer grinned toothily at you, before he turned around to go be with his daughter.
One drink turned into two, then into three, and before you knew it you were seven drinks in, and you were giggling with Angel, a patron at the hotel.
“You’re really,” You paused, hiccuping due to how fast you drank your last shot. “Really interesting, Angel.” Your words were slurred, and almost hard to decipher. Angel, however, understood you completely considering he was also tremendously drunk.
“Thank you, sweet thing.” He smirked, his gold tooth glittering in the light as he moved closer to you. He smelled like artificial fruits, and you wrinkled your nose in distaste, bile swirling right beneath your esophagus. “So, Short king is with ya?”
You nod, still fighting the urge to retch at the stench of his perfume. “Uhn, yeah, he is. I, uhm... made a deal with him, apparently,” You slurred, pausing almost every word you said. “Sorry, your perfume smells gross.”
Angel rolled his eyes, throwing two of his hands up. “Ugh! Val made me wear it for today’s shoot-”
“Why?” You nearly whined, scooting backwards as Angel began to spray a different perfume.
He sighed. “I work sex, babe.” When you cocked your head to the side, he began to rephrase his drunken words. “I’m a porn star.”
You flushed at that, and shrugged lightly. “Each to their own I guess...”
Humming, Angel brought another drink to his mouth, downing it in one go. “On the topic of sex,” He slurred, smirking as Lucifer slowly approached you two. “Who would you have sex with here? Based on appearance.” He hiccuped.
“Lucifer is super hot,” You giggled, biting your lip lightly as you stood up, swaying at your spot. “I wouldn’t mind having him fuck me, I need a good pound.” You dissolved into light giggles, finding the idea of fucking the ruler of Hell amusing, getting him worked up by a lowly sinner...
You yelped when a pair of arms wrapped around your waist, holding you tight. “Don’t squirm,” Lucifer said lightly, raising his hand to stroke your hair. “I’m taking you to bed. You’re drunk.”
“I’m not,”
A laugh came from in front of you, and you glared at Angel as he smiled even wider, smug. “Bye, (Name). Remember to not gag-!”
His voice was cut off as light swarmed your vision. You shut your eyes tight, feeling your stomach roll in pain as your surroundings became the guest room. “Hngh,” You whined, collapsing onto the bed. “Mm, Luci...”
Lucifer stroked your head as you chugged the water he gave, before he ushered you to bed to sleep the liquor off.
Your eyes were shut the instant he had dropped your head back on the pillow.
When you awoke, your head instantly began to pound, before tapering off to a light throbbing. You blinked, and turned to look to the side where the warmth was radiating. “Hi,” Lucifer smiled at you, his expression sleepy as his wings stretched from his back. “You’re awake.”
“And hungover,” You groaned, rubbing at your temples.
You screeched when your wrists were pinned above your head, and Lucifer was on top of you, straddling your hips. In this position, with you staring up at him, he truly did look angelic. His hair was messy, strewed in different directions. The glow from the light on a dresser behind him illuminated certain visible parts of him to you, and it just gave him such an ethereal glow.
You sucked a breath in as he shifted, his wings spreading out from his back, and you could almost imagine that golden halo on top of his head right now.
“Do you want this?” He uttered, voice deep with sleep and slightly gravelly. Arousal bloomed in your abdomen as you nodded quickly. “Words, ducky.”
“Yes.” You nearly whined, and he grinned, teeth all showing.
He practically pounced after that, ripping your bottoms off, and instantly his claws were at your underwear, shredding it with a flick of his wrist. Lucifer let out a growling noise as he leaned into you, thrusting a single finger into your awaiting cunt.
Slick was dripping down his hand after a few thrusts, messy and almost disgusting as wet slapping sounds quickly reverberated throughout the bedroom.
“Dripping, all for me?” He teased, beginning to lightly rub your clit with his thumb as he nipped at your neck and chest. “I just need to put my claim on you.”
You moaned, shaking at his ministrations. “Bite me,” You whispered softly before you broke on a high pitch whimper.
His teeth gleamed as he smirked at you, before surging forward to bite you right between your shoulder and neck, his sharp teeth digging deep into your skin before he pulled away.
You let out a sob at the pain, then a moan as he sped up with his fingers. “Sorry,” He said, guilt filling his voice slightly as he looked at you with lidded eyes. You weakly watch as he gently moves his other hand over the bleeding wound as the pain eased into slight numbing.
“I liked it,” You murmured, kissing him again, and biting his lip as you rolled your hips into his hand.
He let out an indistinguishable noise, before he thrusted his hand deep in you, watching as you came all over his hand, liquid shooting all over his arm.
“Good?” He asked, kissing you softly, before pulling away, licking at his fingers that were soaked in your release.
You nod, smiling as he beamed lightly at you. Moving slightly, you pulled your legs up, leaving your cunt more exposed for him. “Take me, Luci.” You had whined, cunt fluttering at the thought of his cock in you.
Lucifer flushed, his cheeks becoming a darker ruddy color, as he took off his pants. His thick cock slapped his thigh, and both of you giggled at the noise. “Sorry,” He laughed lightly, but you just shook your head smiling.
“It’s okay to be a bit silly, Luci.” You had said quietly, breath hitching as he entered you.
Lucifer sank deep into your cunt, inhaling sharply as you squeezed him. You had yet to indicate you wanted him to move, inhaling and exhaling lightly as you eased up around him.
You nodded, but he still hadn’t moved. His face was extremely red as he stayed still, his breath labored. You furrowed your eyebrows, moving slightly as your cunt squeezed then relaxed around him. “Luci, are you o-”
Before you could finish your sentence, he pulled almost fully out, his flushed tip just barely stretching your cunt. You looked up at him as he shoved his cock inside again, slamming into you. “Mm- Lucifer-” You tried to speak, but he just kissed you, your tongues entwining as small noises of pleasure emitted from you.
He pulled away, panting as his hair became more messed up from his movements. “Want me to stop?” He paused, to see what you needed.
You growled lightly, wrapping your legs around his waist and bucking your hips. He let out a small yelp, grasping your hips in a bruising manner. “Okay!” He kissed you, and slammed into you again. “Okay, you want me that badly huh? My pretty baby. All wet and slick for m-”
He paused as he was pulling out when you let out a whimper. “Daddy,” You had said quietly, nearly inaudibly.
“What?”
You flushed this time, looking off to the side as you worried your lip between your teeth. “Sorry, I...”
Lucifer gently wrapped his hand around your neck, and when you snapped your head to look at him, he smirked, gently squeezing, before his grip became lax again. When you nodded, indicating you were okay with it, he grinned.
“My girl, all wet for her daddy. Such a slut for me, aren’t you? When we fuck, ducky, you look at me. When I kiss you, you think about me. When I impregnate you, you look at me. Understood?”
You wailed in pleasure, cunt gripping his thick cock. “Yes daddy! I understand,” You blabbed, and you took a deep inhale right as Lucifer squeezed your neck.
“Do you even deserve to be fucked by me?” He asked, rubbing your clit lightly. As you began to teeter over the edge, he stopped all movements, looking at you. “I asked you a question.”
You heaved, gripping at his hand. “N-no,” You choked out, and he released his grip, kissing your neck. “Daddy,” You whimpered, watching as Lucifer pulled away to adjust your position. He had your lower half fully bent now, your knees nearly touching the bed as he grasped your waist, shoving his cock back inside you.
Screaming at the new found spot he hit, you began to earnestly moan, loud noises coming from your mouth as every thrust he made hit your sweet spot perfectly. “Ah- ah!” You bit your lip, causing it to bleed. Lucifer leaned in, sucking your lip into his mouth, before he caught your mouth in an open kiss, licking at your tongue.
“Good girl,” He purred, shoving his thick cock deeper and deeper inside you. “I’m going to make you into a mommy, do you want to be a mother? For me?” You felt your orgasm approach as you nodded, whimpering at the idea of your belly becoming swollen with a child.
He kissed you, and you bit his lip as you came, your legs shaking as you inhaled deeply, jerking at the aftershocks as Lucifer continued to thrust, pace off. Jackhammering into you for another moment, he stopped, his cock deep inside you as he groaned, cum coating your walls.
You felt gross, but he merely gently rubbed at the small bulging in your lower abdomen, sighing. “Good?” He inquired, kissing your cheek.
“Good,” You confirmed, beaming tiredly.
A month had passed, and you were chatting idly with Charlie.
“So,” You started, smiling lightly. “I have news.”
She grabbed your hands, eyes bright. “What is it? Oh! Did you find someone to stay at the hotel? Did you find some staff? Is there some news happening in Pentagram City? Wait! Let me guess, did a new restaurant open up-”
You laughed, calming her down as you smiled cheekily. “No, not any of that.” Pausing as Lucifer went up to sit by you. “Me and Luci,” You started, glancing at him. “Are expecting.”
Charlie froze. “Huh? Expecting what? A package?”
Lucifer grinned widely, as his daughter slowly began to understand. “You’re going to be a big sister, Char-Char!”
#marking kink#breeding k1nk#pwp#reader insert#fluff#smut#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel smut#oneshot#hazbin lucifer#hazbin hotel lucifer#lucifer hazbin hotel#lucifer magne#lucifer#lucifer morningstar#lucifer x reader#lucifer x you#hazbin hotel lucifer x reader#hazbin hotel fanfiction#fanfic#pregnant#plot
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Neighbor!Frank Giving Daddy Vibes When He Offers To Help You
This isn't smut but it also isn't fluff but it is comfort but also hot? Like listen, I want Frank to step in and make.things.better. And you know he would.
Frank Castle x Reader
Word Count: 1,732 (~6 min read)
You felt like an idiot, sobbing on your living room floor over a damn futon. It wasn't even the futon, really, it was the colossal mess that acquiring the futon created. As a single girl, you should have guessed Facebook Marketplace was a sketchy place to buy your furniture but you were broke and desperate.
You'd been in your new apartment for a month and your living room was still an empty box with some pillows on the ground as a sad replacement for a couch. You saw the listing for a futon for $50, including delivery, on Marketplace and jumped on the offer. The guy had seemed nice enough and you arranged a time for drop-off on the front stoop of your building but the man pulled up in his truck with a hunk of dissembled futon parts instead of the assembled futon in the picture. Your heart sank instantly and you told him you didn't have the tools to assemble the futon.
"Not my problem," was all he grumbled as he opened his truck bed and started unloading the parts onto the sidewalk, clanging with every toss.
"Please, I'm sorry, I can't take this. I don't have any way to assemble it," you shout over the rattle of the pieces amassing on the sidewalk. He ignores you and continues to unload until the last scrap is cleared from his truck.
"I'm not paying for this," you tell him indignantly. "This isn't what the picture looked like."
He spits on the sidewalk as he strides over to you, grabbing your wrist roughly and yanking the $50 from your hand and mumbles, "Yes you fucking are."
As he drives away you contemplate just leaving the pieces there but your landlord has security cameras and the problem will circle back to you quickly enough. And so, after 30 mins of hauling parts up four flights of stairs and nearly two hours of attempting to assemble the futon using god knows what tools you had lying around the apartment you find yourself in heaving sobs on your living room floor.
The sharp rap at your door snaps you out of your spiral as you mumble a faint, "hello?" towards the door.
The voice on the other said says "Hey, uh, it's me. It's Frank." Frank kept to himself but you had both settled into a kind rhythm with each other. You occasionally dropped off your leftovers (he didn't seem like the type to cook much for himself) and he'd occasionally help take your trash out to the dumpsters or made sure your windows had working locks.
He wasn't one to talk much, usually just ringing your bell and grumbling something before lending a hand, and you assume it's by design. The thing is, you worried about Frank. Though he'd never say anything about it, you saw the way bruises would occasionally bloom across his face. Or the way he'd limp back to his unit down the hall. Sometimes he seemed to be gone for days on end. But despite all signs screaming, DANGEROUS MAN, you trusted Frank and he always treated you nicely. His presence was a comport even, if he did seem to attract danger.
"Oh, uh, coming," you mumble as you weave through the maze of futons parts scattered across your floor and quickly the wipe the tears from your cheeks. You open the door to find Frank leaning with his raised forearm against the doorframe, his hulking form above you, and his eyebrows furrowed.
"Hey Frank, everything ok?" you ask, eyes cast upward toward him, door only cracked a little to conceal the mess you were currently in.
"Came to ask you that question," he responds, chin jutting up to indicate your direction. "Thought maybe I heard some cryin' in there," he adds.
Shame flushes your face and radiates through your body. You weren't above asking for help when you needed it but to be caught in the middle of your mental breakdown was another humiliation entirely.
"Oh god, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize you could hear. I hope I didn't bother you. I'm so sorry," you rush out, your cheeks a vibrant pink.
"Hey, no no," he stops you, those brows furrowing, "don't apologize. Jeez sweetheart, I came to see if you're ok. Somethin' I can help with?"
You couldn't decide if it felt infinitely more embarrassing to accept Frank's help or if it was a tremendous relief.
"Well, I don't know. It's this.." you trail off, motioning to the room he can't see.
"Let me see, a'right?" he offers gently, "Can you open the door a bit for me?" he asks, his hand landing on the knob. You nod and step back, making room for Frank to enter.
"It was a Facebook Marketplace thing... the guy was a jerk," you start and describe what transpired. Frank appears to be growing more agitated at the story continues, his arms crossed across his chest and big breaths huffing out through his crooked nose.
"fuckin' prick," he mumbles under his breath when you finish as he squats to the floor to inspect the task. "These are the only tools you got honey?" he asks gently, not meaning to embarrass. After nodding your head yes he replies, "Yeah, no wonder you were frustrated. This is a nightmare. I'm gonna get my toolbox and I'm coming straight back, ok sweetheart?"
You nod your head again and he's gone for a moment to his own unit. You will yourself to take a few deep breaths to not only wash away the last of the tears but to calm your nerves. Frank always made you nervous. It was that energy of his -- always in charge-- it was simultaneously immensely comforting and slightly frightening.
You hear his footsteps approach from the hall as he calls "S'me honey," so you wouldn't be frightened. He enters with his toolbox at his side and crouches low to get to work on building.
"Are you sure about this Frank? It's so much work, I know it's a pain," you ramble, twisting your fingers in knots, your embodiment of anxiety. You know he's capable but the man probably had other plans for his afternoon.
His eyes land on your twisted fingers as he replies "Happy to do it, alright? I gotcha," and you relax just a bit. After getting him a glass of water you decide to busy yourself in the kitchen, washing last night's dishes and tidying up. After 30 mins of work, he's nearly complete.
"Hey sweetheart," he shouts into the kitchen, "can you do something for me?"
"Yeah, of course," you reply entering the living and tossing the dish towel aside, "how can I help?"
"Alright, you see this piece here," he says pointing at a bent metal bar that wasn't aligned to the screw hole, "that asshole mangled this piece when he disassembled it so we gotta force back in place. Need you to screw it in here when I start bending it back alright?" he asks as he indicates to the screw hole. You nod in understanding as he hands you the manual screw driver. He places his hands on your hips and says gently, "need you stand here honey," to guide you to stand directly in front of him, the futon in front of you. He feel heat flame your cheeks and thank god Frank is facing the back of your head.
Frank engulfs your form, his chin hovering over your right shoulder as his arms reach around either side of you to land on the bent metal bar. You hear the comforting rhythm of his breath in your ear and squeeze your eyes shut a moment to shake the heat rising in your cheeks. He steps forward an inch to get the right leverage on the bar, his broad chest grazing your back.
"this, uh, this ok?" he mumbles in the shell of your ear, his voice soft and rumbly, confirming your comfort and managing to raise the temperature in the room by about 50 degrees. You can't manage an audible yes but you nod instead. With that, you feel him lean closer, a grunt escaping his lips as he forces the bent bar back into place. You watch as his broad hands grip the cool metal, the ropes in his forearms taut as he bends it back to shape. As the holes line up, you begin screwing as fast as you can, securing the bar in place.
He pants as he releases the effort, an "attagirl" tumbling from his lips as his calloused hand wraps around yours, making the last, hardest 90 degree turn to tighten the screw in place. "Practically built the thing yourself," he teases, releasing your hand.
"I can't thank you enough," you start, turning to face him, his face now only inches from yours, the expanse of his shoulders nearly consuming the room. "I.. uh I..." you mumble, the rest of the thought terminated as you stand close enough to smell the mossy freshness of his deodorant.
"Yeah, hey, like I said, happy to help," he responds, one landing landing on your upper arm and squeezing gently before grazing down to let go. He adds after a beat, "Listen, you talk to me about it next time sweetheart, yeah? I’ll take care of it. Don't go gettin’ in a mess like that," his brown eyes nearly boring into yours.
"What do you mean... take care of it?" you ask, nearly a whisper, tiptoeing over a boundary you weren't sure you wanted to know more about. What was Frank's definition of "taking care of" something and why did you think it involved more bruises? Or worse.
His eyes flick away for a moment before finding yours again. "Yeah, that's nothin' you need to worry about honey," he responds, more breath than voice, and you had decided you didn't prefer to know any more.
After a few minutes collecting and packing his tools, Frank made his way to the door and you followed him behind, thanking him again for the help.
"Yeah, it's no problem. Let me take care of you sometimes, yeah?" he replies, leaning in to kiss your cheek, his hand landing softly on your opposite cheek for only a moment, before turning to walk towards his unit, leaving you with a new problem: were you in love with Frank?
#frank castle fanfiction#frank castle x reader#frank castle x you#frank castle fanfic#frank castle smut#frank castle x y/n#frank castle fluff#frank castle comfort
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❛ 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐎𝐊𝐀𝐘, 𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 ❜
description: your boyfriend tends to remind you that you're so easy to love.
characters: alhaitham + scaramouche (wanderer)
a/n: had this idea brewing in my drafts and decided to finish it off ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ
"no, i'm not buying a book from a genre i don't even like."
that's okay, alhaitham will.
actually, the idea of giving you your own bookshelf would already be on his mind as soon as you've successfully moved in with him and kaveh. the only catch? kaveh insists that he builds it himself as a gift.
alhaitham subtly asks you of your favorite wood one evening in the kitchen over a heavy discussion of zaytun peaches that kaveh was supposed to buy earlier that morning. trust me, he already knows which wood you'd absolutely adore, but he took the precaution of asking once again just in case as he'd be quite perturbed that his plan didn't work out in the end like he intended. he wanted it to cater to you, not anyone else.
the topic drifted from zaytun peaches to the week's trending romance novel that you had finished reading a few days ago.
"haitham, you should put this on your to-be-read list!"
"really? what's the appeal, love?"
listen guys and girls, he wants to know why you'd recommend it to him!!!
give him every little detail on why!! you want him!!! out of all people!! to read it!!!
he really just wants to hear you talk about what you find interesting.
contrary to popular belief, he doesn't hate the romance genre. he just finds it... meaningless to read? the last time he gave it a try, there was no actual knowledge in it. just fictional love between fictional characters.
but of course, he would consider it if you were to suggest something. especially if the book has you running laps around the bedroom.
so he sets out on to the nearest bookstore when he's on his 'break' and purchases the same copy you had.
you're DISCOMBOBULATED. BAFFLED.
that night you two would be in bed, settling down for the night, and he whips it out-- his fingers spreads the pages near the ending of the book and he begins reading.
"babe... why are you reading my book?"
"no, it's my book. i bought my own so you wouldn't complain about me creasing the spine."
"but why'd you buy one?"
he side-eyes you, "you suggested the book."
"but i didn't think you'd actually... you didn't have to. i know you aren't fond of--"
"i'm fond of you, and that's enough."
"no, i don't want you starting a commotion here in public."
that's okay, scaramouche will.
he loves you with his entire heart, body, and soul.
if someone stares at you weirdly? they're already being glared down by him. if a salesperson says anything about your attire, your hair (or the absense of it), or your skin-- he's throwing himself across the stall and grabbing their shirt to bring them closer to you.
he makes them apologize.
a woman, a man, an elder, a kid-- doesn't matter. as long as they got a mouth that can yap, he's gonna shut it.
your friends would let what people say to you slide, but he won't.
it's bad enough that he feels as if he doesn't deserve you so when you start thinking of yourself as someone whose less than even the dirt and cement beneath your feet, he's angry at everyone else for letting it get this far.
"what are you talking about? they insulted you and you stood there and took it!"
you don't want to feel like a burden, like someone whose always in need of being protected.
"i'm not your friend, i'm your partner," he grits. "it's what i'm supposed to do, you idiot."
really, it's just the ideal of protecting you that's instilled within his puppet body.
poor baby does not know an ounce of romance yet he said that line so effortlessly and in a way that had you choking on your next words.
as you cling to his bicep on the dirt road, you thank him. profusely. he finds it a bit annoying.
"you need to get better friends." is all he says.
he knew what loyalty was. he practically would get on his knees for it, too. he constantly looked for that in a partner, and you had answered.
he knew loyalty was needed in friendships, as well as relationships. especially relationships.
so it unsettled him when he heard that your so-called friends brushed off the verbal assaults directed to you and had the audacity to then say: "just smile and don't let it get to you"
it wouldn't be the first he's done this and it certainly won't be the last, and that's okay.
he wants to enjoy the smiles, laughs, and jokes you end up sharing with him all in an attempt to calm him down but he's already been calm. he's always found himself significantly calm around you, whether he admits it or not.
"come on, let's go home."
© 2024 feelinmatcha
#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#alhaitham x reader#alhaitham#scaramouche x reader#wanderer x reader#reader angst#reader comfort#reader soft#reader insert#genshin imagines#alhaitham x you#scaramouche x you#wanderer x you
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I'm Not A Spy?
Max Verstappen x Reader
Summary: There’s no way THE Max Verstappen got you flowers, absolutely no way.
Warnings: Swearing, other than that, just silliness and fluff.
Word Count: 1616
Authors note: This was literally a dream I had and I was encouraged to write it as a fic by my absolute dream of a friend @0-atmilk-latte so thank you sugar <3 I hope it’s okay. I really want to get back into writing my silly little stories so, let's try to do this.
______
Enemy territory.
This is where Max stood currently. Dead center in front of the Mercedes motorhome door, where everyone could see him.
And every single person to walk through those doors sent him glares that would make sure he knew he was on enemy territory.
He knew it was risky. Redbull merchandise adoring him. Sticking out like a sore thumb. It was a risk he was willing to take.
“Horner send you?” Toto stepped through the doors after watching Max stand there for the past hour, “Although, I can't imagine who Horner would be giving those to?” eyes flicking between Max’s face and the bouquet of flowers he was currently white knuckling.
“No sir, these are for your assistant.” Max tried to sound confident but even he could admit Toto was a terrifying man and this entire situation was feeling far too similar to the idea of trying to get your fathers permission to ask you on a date.
“From?” Toto knew he was making Max squirm, but the only thing that would bring him more joy was if it were Horner himself standing in front of him instead of Max.
“From me sir.” Max tried to stop his hands from shaking, the rustling of the leaves and flowers becoming oddly unbearable as he tried to stand his ground in front of your boss.
“Why?” As much fun as Toto was having, he was also curious. He knew Max had been eyeing you up these past few weeks, paying more attention to you, attempting to talk to you every opportunity he could. He had even caught Max attempting to make small talk with Lewis and George, which he was now assuming was a bid at getting closer to you. At the very least attempt to make everyone around you like him in the meantime.
“Because I was hoping to ask her to dinner sir.” Toto couldn't hide his surprise at Max’s honesty. Expecting at the very least some work around to that answer after some back and forth.
God Max irritated him. He had no choice but to add this to the increasingly growing list of things he respected Max for and it infuriated Toto to no end.
It didn’t mean he couldn't stress Max out in the meantime.
“Well,” he let out a chuckle, “good luck then son.”
“Boss, what’s the redbull scum doing on our turf?” George shouted towards Toto as he made his way towards the motorhome.
Toto didn’t even give Max an opportunity to answer before he was shouting back, “Apparently he’s here to ask my assistant out to dinner.”
“Oh, makes sense why he’s been so nice to me and Lewis these last few weeks.” George made his way up to the entrance, joining his boss and rival, “Is this why you wanted to hang out in Monaco the other day?”
Toto and George could only laugh at the uncontrollable blush that had made its way across Max’s face at being called out.
And the situation was only made worse by, “Morning Boss, George,” you eyed the odd one out, cocking an eyebrow up in question, “and Max?”
“Well then, go ahead,” was all that came from your boss in lieu of a greeting from any of them.
And suddenly Max felt shy. All that previous bravado had clearly been used up with Toto, leaving none for the actual important interaction.
He had to do something and soon, because you were standing there staring at him, waiting, for, well, something.
Next second there was a bouquet thrust in your direction, gripped to near smithereens between Max’s hands. Your eyes darted between the flower and the three men in front of you, one completely avoiding eye contact, the other two doing a poor job to hide their smiles as they watched the interaction between you two.
“What’s this for?” you refused to take the bundle from Max, unsure of what was happening.
“You.” It was all Max could get out.
“From?
“Me?”
“Why?”
“Jesus.”
Toto barked out a laugh at the near identical conversation he and Max had just had.
The flowers rustled in front of you as you assumed Max shook them for you to take.
He would never admit that it was his nerves.
You hesitantly took the flowers, eyeline switching between max and the, admittedly beautiful, bunch of flowers you were now holding.
There was a long silence as you just stared at the flowers, eyebrows furrowing. Neither Max, Toto nor George fully understood what was going on in your mind. The silence extended so long that even Toto began to feel nervous, so he could only imagine what Max was feeling as he just stared you down just as intensely as you were staring at those flowers.
Just as Toto reached out to nudge Max in an attempt to get him to say something to you, you began violently shaking the flowers. Petals and leaves began flying everywhere. Whole flowers landed on the floor at your feet. At least one had hit Max in the face. Toto stepped back in fear. Max shielded himself from the onslaught. By the time you were done, all that was left in your hand was one measly flower consisting of maybe four petals and a few leaves. The rest lay at your feet after your massacre.
All three boys stared on in horror as you stood there breathless. Eyes fixed on Max like he was your prey.
Everyone could hear the gulp from Max’s throat as he took a single step backwards.
“You think just because I’m some girl and you’re the Max Verstappen in your fast little redbull you can treat me like some pawn in your weird little game?” you spat the words at him.
Max desperately looked over to Toto and George for some help, but even they looked too scared to intercede on his behalf.
“This isn’t some game, I just,”
“You just what? Thought you could spy on my team?” you didn't even let him finish before throwing out a secondary accusation at him.
“Spy?” George hadn’t meant to have that come out as loud as it did, but suddenly all attention was on him as he hid slightly behind Toto.
“Obviously George. He probably put a listening device in the flowers to spy on us.” All three looked at you like you were insane, “Why else would he be giving me flowers?”
“To ask you on a date.” The silence that followed Toto’s comment was deafening.
“No.” It was all you could get out.
“No to the date or no to him giving you flowers for that reason?” Totot was desperately trying to be the voice of reason here.
“To him giving me flowers?” You’d yet to look at Max since the original accusations.
“Why would Max be spying on us? Redbull is the fastest team on the grid?” George was emphatically nodding along with what Toto was saying, trying to get you to see that this was completely innocent.
“I’m not a spy?” Max had finally spoken up, far too alarmed at the accusations beforehand to offer much more than this, beyond thankful to Toto for helping him explain.
“Then what’s with the flowers?” You were sharp and blunt and Max couldn’t help but fall just that little bit more for you as he watched you defend your team.
“To ask you on a date.” Max hesitantly pointed at Toto, showing that the original reason that was offered was correct.
“You want to take me on a date?” Max could only nod, “and these flowers were to ask me on a date?” Another nod, smile growing as he watched your cheeks flush, “in front of my boss?” you side eyed your boss, hoping he’d take the hint to get out of there.
“In my defense, I didn’t expect him to come talk to me, not stick around” Max’s eyes refused to leave you, a little nervous to at this point.
“I’m not going anywhere, is it a yes or not?” Totot refused to budge, his massive presence looming over both you and Max as George peaked over his shoulder to continue watching the interaction.
“Yes,” you watched as Max’s smile grew even wider than before, him already grabbing his phone out of his pocket so you could put your number in it for him, “as long as you promise you aren’t a spy!” you emphasized by shoving his phone, now containing your number, into his chest as a warning.
“Not a spy. I promise,” Max stuck his pinky out, waiting for you to reciprocate, giving you the most legal of all promises, the pinky promise, “so it’s a date.”
You nodded as you wrapped your pinky around his own, “A date.”
After a moment Toto coughed, catching your attention and forcing you to let go of Max and straighten out your attire, “We should go, yes, we have, there’s work, yes, job, okay, bye” and with that, you had disappeared through the Mercedes motorhome doors, soon followed by Toto who clapped a hand against Max’s shoulders, muttering a “well done boy” as he followed you in to begin the day, leaving Max to stare after you as George sidled up next to him.
The two stood in silence, Max staring at you as Toto clearly teased you about the interaction, and George stared at Max, gearing up to do some teasing of his own.
“Never thought The Max Verstappen would be into women who scared him”
“Shit, she’s so scary.” Max nodded along with his own statement before making George choke on his coffee with the next one, “I think I’m going to marry her.”
#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#x reader#max verstappen oneshot#max verstappen fluff#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen x you
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The Inheritance
Guys, I keep messing up the timeline. So here we go. Christian, Geri, and Mitch find out about Lorenzo and your parents disowning you at your last F2 race. Max finds out about Lorenzo in this chapter (although not written in detail). Max then finds out about your parents in chapter 18 “All For You.”
This is proof that I listen to my readers :D @dreamy-state-of-mind asked to see how reader bought her cars and this chapter was created! I can't do every ask for an idea but I try to listen to what y'all want!
Y'all are being fed...two chapters in a row (which means the next one won't be out for a little bit - so I apologize!)
Like always comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated! Enjoy!
TAG LIST IS CLOSED
Your hands were in your pockets as you walked around the open room. You had somehow lost Max, Vito, AND Christian. It wasn’t like you meant to walk away, you just did on accident. How could someone know that the foreign car dealership was this big. Well, you would know, but that’s beside the point.
It was quite cold in Germany. Thankfully, you had packed extra layers, something the men seemed to not know how to do. You were sure that Max would have worn his Red Bull polo if you didn’t mention to Kelly where you were going. Sure, he could dress on his own, but who would want that?
Your eyes gazed at all of the cars on the floor. Most were the common stock models. Audis, Mercedes, and even Volkswagens littered the area; yet, the cars you were looking for were nowhere to be found. You kept heading in the same direction, hoping to at least find a familiar someone who looked like they worked there.
Your ears picked up on some German words. Feet taking faster steps, you rounded a corner. Ah, there they were.
Somehow you completely missed seeing that the Porsches would be in a different room. You gingerly stepped farther into the vast open-ceiling room. Your hand itched to touch them, but you knew better.
Looking at the cars brought back some great memories of the first time your godfather took you here. Yes, he could have gotten any Italian brand of car that he wanted. Everything was at his fingertips. Yet, he brought 11-year-old you to Germany to get his imported cars.
Your eyes landed on a familiar model. If you thought hard enough, you could hear the imprints of Lorenzo’s and your laughs as he took you to do donuts in abandoned parking lots.
“A beauty isn’t she,” a voice scared you, causing you to fall on your ass. Your cheeks burned at the thought of being caught. Yet, when your eyes met familiar friendly ones, the redness left.
“Hi Seb,” you greeted as you took his outstretched hand that he offered. He pulled you to your feet and into a hug. After you were done, you pulled away to turn back to the car. This time, you let your hand gently grace the older door.
“Enzo had one,” you simply stated, leaving it at that. Most knew you didn’t like to talk about the man, since it brough on so many emotional memories.
Sebastian took a couple steps and stood next to you.
“Do you still have the keys to the garage?”
You grinned up at the German ex-driver. “Of course I have the keys. You know he left me the entire house.”
He bumped your shoulder, head jerking to lead you away from the car. You followed without hesitation.
“What do you plan to do with it?”
You cocked your head in thought. “I’m going to keep it for now. I don’t want to sell it. It’s not like I need the money anyway.”
He chuckled. “I forget that you’re like a multi-millionaire at 20.”
You just shrugged. “Not my fault that I was basically his only family. I never asked for it.” Your eyes dropped to the shiny floor below. A hand was placed on your shoulder.
“I know. I’m glad that you’re well off. Makes me feel better about not seeing you as much.” A sad smile graced his face as he looked at you.
You tried your best to give him a genuine one in return. “I’m doing much better than I was.”
“Have you showed Max your vast array yet?”
“Nope.” You popped the ‘p’. “I plan to soon, actually. I told him that I needed to go to Italy after this.”
Seb raised his eyebrows, but didn’t say anything else. You went to talk, but familiar voices echoed in the big room.
“Kid!”
“Seb?”
Your head whipped toward the sound. Ah, there they were.
And they brought an assistant with them.
Max and Christian looked at Seb in question as Vito brought the German into a big hug. You stood toward the side to watch the two friends reunite. The assistant took this opportunity to approach you.
“Ah Miss L/n, so good to see you again!”
“Again?” Max questioned, looking at you.
The assistant turned to the Dutchman. “Yes. Miss L/n has been a patron at this establishment for years now.” He turned back to you. “I have the two models that you called ahead for. I will lead you to them.”
The man turned on his heal and began to walk deeper into the room.
Sebastian was now talking to Vito and Christian, which led to Max walking by you.
“I didn’t know you’d been here before.”
You looked up at him with a sly smile. “My godfather bought a lot of his cars from here and would take me with him. Some of the cars at the front are a part of his collection that I donated when he passed. He left me so many, I didn’t know what to do with them.”
Max stopped in his tracks as you kept walking. Once he got over his shock, he sped up to catch you.
“So many?”
You placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Maxie, how much money do you think I have?” you asked, an innocent look on your face.
“Couple thousand?”
You shook your head.
An eyebrow rose. “A couple hundred thousand?”
Another shake as a mouth dropped.
Max looked around before whispering, “Millions?”
“Bingo. We’re going to tour my house when we go to Italy.”
You kept on walking, leaving the even more confused Dutchman.
“House?”
A few steps more and you had caught up with the group of four men. Christian whistled at the sight of what lie before him.
“Thank you Mr. Klein,” you shook the assistants hand as you looked at the two dark green cars in front of you. “Did the payment go through well?”
The man nodded. “Yes it did. Mr. and Mrs. Fischer send their best regards and also thank you for the donation.”
The four men (minus your manager) gawk at you. Yet, you were too busy beaming.
“I’m so glad. Tell them that I will reach out the next time I’m here for longer. I want to see their children again, I miss them.”
With a couple more goodbyes, weird stares, and going over plans to ship your Porsches to Monaco and England safely – you were on your way to Italy.
Thankfully Sebastian wanted to join, saying something about how he hadn’t seen the house in forever. Which brought on more questioning looks from Max.
However, Christian had to sadly say goodbye as he had a connecting flight to go somewhere else for business. You promised you’d send some pictures when you could.
A chauffer had met you at the airport, names written in fancy calligraphy on a starch white piece of paper.
The man gave you two cheek kisses as you greeted him.
“Guido! Come stai amico mio?” (how are you my friend?)
Max couldn’t wipe the look off his face as you began to talk to the older gentleman in perfect Italian. Vito only patted his shoulder.
“You’ll get used to it. She’s definitely someone to unravel. You’ll get there.”
The four of you then followed the man to the Rolls Royce that was waiting in the parking area. Suitcases were loaded in, and the three of you were on your way to your house.
Or, more like mansion/estate/castle that Max found out as the car pulled closer. He turned to you.
“Kid?”
“Inheritance Max. Inheritance.”
Your door was opened once the car was parked. Multiple people came out of the house, wanting to greet you.
“La mia famiglia! Mi siete manvati tutti!” (My family! I’ve missed all of you!”)
A couple of the staff took your bags as you walked through the giant doorway. Once you were through, you turned around and opened your arms.
“Max, welcome to Casa di Lorenzo Alessandrino.”
Max’s head was in a state of looking upwards as he walked in. He would have held his mouth open, but the interior seemed to demand respect as power and poise dripped from its walls. Now it was turn for Max’s hands to itch, wanting to touch everything.
Once everything was settled, you gave Max a tour as Vito and Seb went to go get some drinks. Your fingers twirled a special key ring as you led Max to your garage.
You turned to him and gave a smile. “You ready?”
Let’s just say, Max was not ready to see so many cars. Max let his jaw drop.
The garage was deep and long, probably housing close to 40-ish cars. Your eyes glimmered as you looked at the older cars that you missed dearly.
“You can go look you know,” you told Max as you made your way down the little staircase to the floor. Your heels clicked and echoed with each step. Max was quick to be on your tail. The Dutchman made his way quickly to each car, stopping for only a second before getting distracted by the next.
You hummed as you looked at the empty spot among the Ferrari’s on the back wall. You pointed to it when Max came up beside you again.
“The only car Lorenzo never had in his collection was the F40. I need to talk to Charles or Carlos about seeing how I can get one ethically. I want to complete the collection, but not pay far more than what it’s worth.”
Max nodded, soaking in your words. He was about to say something, but a flash of orange caught his attention. His eyes sparkled as he looked at the spaceship looking car.
“What kind of car is that?”
You smirked as you gazed on your most prize possession.
You walked closer and clicked the keys, making the car roar to life only for a second. (You don’t want to give you and Max monoxide poisoning.)
Your hand ran over the orangey hues that covered the car.
“This is the Apollo Project Evolution.”
Max looked down at the hyper car.
“What that a V12?”
“Yep. A Ferrari V12 to be exact. Three million dollars, one in ten made, over 700 horsepower, and completely street legal. I’d take you for a ride, but I would rather keep this between me and whoever knows about it.”
You turned on your heel to start walking toward the door where you walked in. “I bought it because it reminded me of the spaceship from Guardians of the Galaxy.”
Max snickered as he could imagine you at 14-years-old, watching that movie and falling in love with the space craft. Then, he imagined you last year, trying to find out how you could get your hands on it.
He took one last glance at the big room, before following you back into the house. He softly shut the big door behind him.
“Does Arthur know about this place?” he asked as he caught up to you, not wanting to get lost.
You softly smiled at him. “Yes. I brought him here after Lorenzo passed away in 2020. I just didn’t want to be alone. Vito was here as well.”
Max returned your sad smile. You and Vito had told him about the place on your way here. Tears were shed, hugs were given out, but you’d get through it.
But then he suddenly pouted at the thought of you not bringing him here earlier.
You tutted. “Don’t worry, Charles hasn’t been here if that’s what you’re pouting about.”
That brought an instant grin to his face. You rolled your eyes at his childishness. Soon, you joined Vito and Sebastian in the kitchen. Aperol Spritzes lined the kitchen counter. Your hand reached one, before Vito was thrusting an different one into your hands. You pouted when you realized that yours was probably nonalcoholic.
Sebastian snorted. “Let the kid have one.”
“Vito, what do you think they do for podiums? Make sure mine isn’t actual champagne?”
Vito rolled his eyes and handed you one from the kitchen counter. You quickly smiles and took a sip of the bubbly drink.
“So kid, did you show Max the garage?” Sebastian raised an eyebrow as he took a sip of his own drink.
You nodded as you placed your cup down. “Yep!”
“And the track?”
“You have a track!?”
y/n.89 has posted
y/n.89 glad to be back to my home away from home. Italia, quanto mi sei mancato. conserverai sempre ricordi preziosi e non posso ringraziarti abbastanza per amarmi da bambino. quando tornerò sarò sul podio, ne sono sicuro
(translation : italy how i've missed you. you will always hold precious memories and i can't thank you enough for loving me as a child. when i return, i'll be on the podium - i'm sure of it)
liked by sebastianvettel, vito_official, y/nlover, and 58,204 others
y/n's_fav who was going to tell me that our girl knows Italian?
y/n_updates she speaks it fluently! her godfather was Italian and taught her when she was growing up!
y/n_on_top all I'm hearing is that her, Carlos, and Charles can now talk shit about Max if needed
charles_leclerc quindi Max non riesce a capire? (so max can't understand?)
y/n.89 no, quindi è ora di svelare i segreti dell'infanzia, Charlie (no, so spill the childhood secrets Charlie)
carlossainz55 abbiamo molto da dire (we have a lot to tell)
maxverstappen1 I CAN READ MY OWN NAME - I KNOW YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT ME
y/n.89 senti qualcosa? (do you hear something?)
vito_official così felice di essere a casa. possiamo restare ancora un po'? Guido e Luigi dicono che gli manchiamo troppo (so glad to be home. can we stay a bit longer? Guido and Luigi say they miss us too much)
y/n.89 mi mancheranno così tanto. torneremo presto! (i'll miss them so much. we'll be back soon!)
sebastianvettel glad to have been able to go with you! I'll see you soon kinder!
y/n_in_italy NOT HER HOUSEKEEPERS'S NAMES BEING GUIDO AND LUIGI
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silk and rope
the long awaited ddlg harry and yn pairing has finally arrived!!!
some general disclaimers: I've never been in a relationship like this myself nor have I experimented too much with proper bdsm techniques, so there may be some things that are wrong in this!!!! I did research and tried my best to make it as accurate as possible but pls don't come for me if something isn't right ok thank yoooouuuuuu!!!!!!!
word count: 10.6k
content warnings: daddy dom and sub/little yn relationship, big ol’ daddy kink, basically just a lot of smut (bondage, overstimulation, use of toys, dirty talk, f oral, penetration), discussions of subspace and crappy sexual experiences (nothing forced), yn in little/sub space
"Y/N, I just don't think this is working out anymore."
Normally, Y/N is able to see this coming.
In the past, she's had 20/20 hindsight, predicted when whatever man she was seeing — or rather, submitting to — had finally gotten bored of her, and been able to paste a smile on her face when it finally happened. She could bite her tongue hard enough to prevent the flush that would eventually warm her entire body with embarrassment, mumble out some nonsense response ("okay, that's fine, I appreciate the time we spent together", which was usually a lie anyway), give them a halfhearted hug and let them go.
Todd, however? The world's worst dominant? She seriously can't believe that Todd of all people is ending things.
Realistically, Y/N doesn't really care that Todd isn't interested in dominating her anymore. He was shit at aftercare and only paid attention to maintaining a sexual relationship, as opposed to an emotional one, too. (Y/N's profile specifically said that she was looking for a dominant inside and outside of the bedroom.) So, when it comes down to it, it's fine that Todd is putting a stop to their rather lackluster relationship, but Y/N is unprepared.
Typically, at this point, she already has a date with another dominant lined up for 24 hours from now. She's already talking to other people, listing out her hard limits and what she's looking for, maybe even switching her photos around to change things up after being on this god forsaken website for a year and a half.
And maybe she, too, was so unsatisfied with Todd that she wasn't paying enough attention to realize the end was coming.
But with her slightly squinted eyes and half-open jaw, it must seem that she's in some sort of immediate stage of heartbreak (she's not, she's just surprised), because Todd goes to sling his arm around her shoulders and presses a kiss to the side of her head.
"It's not you, babe, it's me," he says, and it makes Y/N want to elbow him in the ribs, "Really, you were great. Fantastic every time. Just think I'm looking for someone a little bit more... emotionally stable, y'know?"
That's what breaks Y/N out of her trance, so she quickly rises from her couch and wordlessly opens the front door.
"Thanks. You can go now."
With furrowed eyebrows, Todd stands up, as if he was expecting her to get down on her knees and grovel at his feet, begging him to stay.
"See, this is what I'm talking about, babe— one second you're all quiet and mousey, and the next you're trying to boss me around like I'm the submissive," he feens offense as he pulls his sneakers on, "I think you should probably get your brain together before you start seeing someone else, it's a real mindfuck."
"Okay," Y/N smiles tightly, gesturing outside to the chilly evening. "See you around, Todd."
The confused expression remains on Todd's face but thankfully, he leaves without another word. Y/N lets out a deep sigh as she shuts the door behind him and locks it up. She grabs one of the leftover muffins she made at work today, plops down on the couch, and turns on the TV to find a show to fall asleep to.
. . .
If Harry's being honest, the bar is the last place he wants to be right now.
And he would be at home if he hadn't blown his friends off for the past three weeks, and Claire hadn't stopped by his desk while he was packing his things up, threatening to kidnap him if he wasn't planning on attending this evening.
He feels bad, especially because he knows he has the tendency to prioritize work over his friends, so he shoots her a tight smile and tells her to lead the way.
So now he's at their usual booth in the corner, slowly nursing a lukewarm beer that he'd ordered an hour ago when they arrived. He's halfway listening to a story Lea is telling about her shitty on-again, off-again boyfriend, occasionally suppressing the urge to yawn. He glances down at the watch on his wrist to read the time and promises himself that he'll stay another 30 minutes before ducking out.
Truthfully, he's bored, and he's tired, and his bed is calling to him in a way that's almost painful. He occupies himself by people-watching, trying to guess who's on first dates or, like him and his friends, getting together for weekly drinks. It's only then that he zeroes in on her — Y/N, that is — sitting alone at the bar top, slightly hunched over as she taps on her phone, a glass of wine in the other hand.
Harry doesn't know Y/N that well. He knows that she went to college with Naomi, who started inviting her to things around a year ago, and now she's always just around. He's unsure if she actually likes any of them besides Naomi, though — she's quiet and introverted, which Harry respects and understands, but the one-on-one conversations they've had are few and far between.
But that's why his interest is piqued in the first place. He's never witnessed her sitting alone at the bar, and a twinge of concern fires through him as he watches her. He clears his throat and turns back to the table, unintentionally cutting Lea off.
"Is Y/N okay?" he asks, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the bar.
"What? I didn't even know she was here," Lea says as she peers over with a shrug, "Seems fine to me."
She continues on with her story and Harry rolls his eyes, grabbing his pint and striding over to where Y/N is sitting. He props himself up on the stool next to her and waves the bartender down, pointing to his glass.
"Hey, Y/N," Harry greets easily as his glass gets refilled. She looks up from her phone and immediately locks it, as if he's tearing her from some deep thinking, surprised that anyone would come to bother her in a busy pub. "How are you?"
With slightly parted lips, she looks a bit bewildered. "Um... I'm fine. How are you, Harry?"
He swallows, glancing down at the half-full glass of white wine she's drinking. He's never actually seen her drunk, despite near-weekly meetups at this pub. She seems tipsy, not fully under water, though decently buzzed.
"I'm good, thanks," he forces a smile onto his lips as an effort to seem as though he's not concerned for her wellbeing. "I saw you over here and realized I didn't even say hi to you."
Y/N shrugs. "I didn't really feel like socializing tonight. Naomi kind of dragged me here."
"Ah, Claire did the same to me," Harry replies understandingly, nodding his head, "Said she'd kidnap me if I didn't come out."
She scoffs at that before tilting the glass back towards her lips, taking another hearty gulp. He doesn't miss the thin wince she makes as the liquid touches her tongue, swallowing it down quickly.
"Is it 'cos you got broken up with, too?"
Harry's eyes widen at her question, but she's already looked past him, zoning out with a bleary look.
"Oh... I'm sorry, Y/N. Do you want to talk about it?"
He's not great at emotional conversations, especially with people he barely knows, but he supposes it's a decent explanation for why she's in this state. He's content with lending a shoulder to cry on, he decides, because he doubts Naomi had done the same.
"It wasn't really a breakup, it's fine," she mutters with a dismissive wave of her hand. "We weren't dating, is what I mean."
Although she attempts at some sort of explanation, Harry's still confused, but he nods as if he understands.
"Was it like a friends with benefits situation?" he guesses, and she shrugs noncommittally.
"Kind of."
"So it was complicated, then," Harry murmurs. He gets that — he's been there a thousand times over, and he understands the pain associated with those types of situations.
"It wasn't," she shakes her head, and now Harry knows she's just spewing out drunken nonsense, "He was my... dominant. Or tried to be. He was really fucking shitty at it."
Dominant?
The familiar word echoes through the chambers of Harry's mind. He's certainly not unacquainted with dominant and submissive dynamics, but he's shocked — more than, really — that Y/N refers to a typically taboo word in such a casual way. He chalks it up to the alcohol, but he's still surprised that Y/N even had a dominant to begin with.
"I met him on one of those stupid seeking arrangements websites, which honestly never produces good results," Y/N continues, making Harry's eyes widen even more. He's sure that she would never reveal this information to any of their mutual friends, let alone him of all people. "Every dom I've had from there has been... whatever. But he was particularly awful, and he just ended things out of nowhere. Normally I like to have someone else lined up, but... yeah."
Even in her alcohol-fueled state, Y/N realizes that she's rambling, providing far too many personal details to Harry, who she rarely talks to. She knows she'll be ridiculously embarrassed by the entire evening as soon as the wine drunk haze wears off, but for now, Harry's on the receiving end of her secrets.
Harry clears his throat and straightens his posture, sitting up a little taller. "Well, you said it yourself. Those sites are shitty, the dominants on there are usually just looking to experiment for the first time and they don't know what they're doing. The local BDSM community is your best bet... clubs and gatherings and such."
Y/N wrinkles her eyebrows and peers at Harry beside her. He's looking straight ahead and nibbling on his bottom lip, his hand firmly grasped around his glass. She doesn't know much about Harry besides the fact that he works at some large company with a relatively well-off position. He's gorgeous, of course, and has flings with people here and there but otherwise, her knowledge of what him is... well, almost non-existent.
It wasn't totally impossible — the likelihood that Harry, like Y/N, was involved in similar sexual dynamics. She wouldn't classify herself as part of the BDSM community, but perhaps it was because she'd never dove headfirst into learning about it outside of what she's interested in. She felt that what she looked for in a dominant was rather... specific.
"Do you... are you...?" Y/N doesn't quite know how to phrase the question, "are you a dom?" without sounding like a total creep, so she allows him to fill in the blanks. His throat bobs as he takes a sip of his beer, shrugging his shoulders tersely.
"Yeah," he finally answers. "Not very consistently, I guess, but I'll take on a sub a few times year. Usually for a few months."
She nods slowly, squinting her eyes a bit as she tries to picture it. She's not sure what type of dominant Harry is — whether he's sweet and soft, or tough and enjoys pushing his subs to their limit each and every time — but regardless, the mere thought of it is enough to make her squeeze her thighs.
"What about you?" he asks, shifting his position to face her. "It sounds like you go through doms kind of... quickly."
Y/N hums, "Kind of, I guess. I think I have kind of... like, particular needs, and not everyone is interested in it."
It's the most they've ever spoken to one another, and Harry doesn't even think before he's asking her what exactly she looks for in a dominant. He's immediately embarrassed — he doesn't know what made him question her so openly, but he can't help his curiosity.
She waves his slight exasperation off, clearly not offended by his press for details.
"Can I just ask that you don't tell anyone?" Y/N says, looking at the man sitting next to her. "It's like, a little embarrassing, and I've never told our friends about it. Not even Naomi."
"Of course," Harry quips. He's always been good at keeping those types of things under wraps — he didn't believe anyone had anything to gain by learning about someone's sexual interests.
"I... I guess I have some trauma stemming from childhood that I've worked through in recent years. It's not important to this, but I tend to look for dominants who fulfill more of a caretaker role. I like to be... taken care of. In certain ways."
Her cheeks flush as the words leave her mouth as he listens to her closely. He's not sure if he's reading between the lines, looking too far into her explanation, but he gets it. He thinks.
"So... a daddy dom?" Harry asks softly. Y/N rolls her lips into her mouth and nods curtly.
"That's nothing to be embarrassed about," he murmurs once he receives confirmation, "A lot of people like that type of relationship. I can understand why you'd be interested in it, especially if you have trauma."
She shrugs. "A lot of people think it's weird, too."
"Sure, but those aren't the people you should be seeking relationships out with," Harry replies easily, "What do you look for specifically? I'm sure we could find someone for you in the community."
Y/N lets a deep breath out, rolling her neck to each of her shoulders. She can't believe they're having this conversation in public, but she'd be lying if she said Harry wasn't easy to talk to. Plus, at the night went on, more people filed out of the bar considering it was a weekday.
"It's not necessarily age play I'm after, which I think a lot of people think is what I want," she explains, "Just like... a caregiver, I guess, that's there for me both in and out of the bedroom. I, um... on bad days, fall into a... headspace, and it's very difficult to navigate that on my own. If that makes sense."
"Makes perfect sense," Harry nods. "Are you looking for punishments and such?"
"Yeah." she breathes, nibbling at her lip as she crosses her legs, attempting to mitigate the dull throbbing in her core.
"Y/N, do you have my number?"
She swallows as she peers up at him through her eyelashes, shaking her head. He puts his hand out and she grabs her phone, placing it in his palm. He taps at the screen and she assumes he's putting his information in her contacts.
"Claire drove me here so I can't give you a ride home, but I'm gonna order you an Uber so you can head home," he murmurs lowly, handing her phone back to her. "Text me tomorrow. Can we get together after work?"
Y/N nods with slightly rounded eyes, making him smile gently. He realizes she must be more depraved than he thought if she's already slipping into her little space from an act as simple from that.
"Keep it together 'til you get home," Harry says with a quirked eyebrow, though embarrassment quickly washes over Y/N's body. He chuckles as she blushes, patting her thigh lightly. "I'll walk you out."
She grabs her bag and follows him out of the bar, welcoming the autumnal chill as it pimples her skin.
"Are you gonna slip on the way back?"
Y/N looks up to see Harry towering over her, a concerned expression on his face.
"N-no. I'm fine."
He continues analyzing her for a moment or two more before he finally nods once. "Okay. If you feel yourself getting there, call me."
"I won't. I promise."
Harry hums as a black sedan rolls up to the curb. He checks to make sure it's the correct license plate before guiding her to the car and holding the door open for her. She gets in the backseat and he nods at the driver, murmuring down at her, "seatbelt on."
She complies readily and he smiles, patting her head softly. "Message me when you get home. We'll talk tomorrow, okay?"
"Okay. Thank you, Harry."
20 minutes later when he receives a text from her stating that she's made it home safely, he already knows he'll do anything to be her dominant.
. . .
Harry half expects Y/N to pretend like last night ever happened.
He would understand it if she did. She was tipsy, revealing intimate details about her sexual preferences pertaining to BDSM. No one else from their friend group knew. It just ended up coming out for both of them — Harry doesn't parade his dominant role in the bedroom all around town, but if someone he knows asks, he's happy to admit to it and talk more about it. He's not ashamed by any means, but he can tell that Y/N is. She prefaced her explanation by stating that she has trauma — and really, who doesn't? — and hinted that dominants in the past have found her requests to be weird.
Harry doesn't think the whole daddy dom thing is strange. He understands it, especially pertaining to a psychological, healing level. He's never engaged in that sort of dynamic before, typically sticking to scratching the itch his submissives usually had, whether it be getting tossed around a little, orgasm denial, or being tied up. He was happy to do what made them happy, but he usually kept it in the bedroom.
The thought of taking up a caregiver role in Y/N's life made his spine tingle.
He's always been interested in her — not even in a romantic or sexual way, he's always just found her fascinating. She's quiet and shy, beautiful, and the definition of a wallflower. Naomi brought her in one day and she just never left. It's been a year since then and Harry doesn't think she's spoken more than 15 words to the others.
And so, with all of this knowledge under his belt, he spends his day at work worrying his bottom lip between his teeth and constantly unlocking his phone. When he gets home that evening, narrowly avoiding Claire's proposal at more social interaction, he's lost all hope, even though he did tell her to text him when she was finished with work. He's properly pouting as he sits on his couch, knees to his chest, when his phone lights up on the coffee table in front of him.
From: Y/N Y/L/N
hey harry:) first of all, im so sorry about last night. i was clearly having a tough day and i definitely took advantage of u being willing to chat with me, so im sorry if i revealed too much or took you away from everyone else.. i know u don't go out often and im really sorry if i ruined it
im also not sure if you still have interest in what we talked about last night w helping me find someone... its totally ok if you've changed ur mind or you were just drunk or whatever. again, i know i was being a lot so no worries!! sorry! just lmk :)
Harry's heart squeezes as he reads over her repeated apologies. In two texts, she said variations of "I'm sorry" four times. She thought she had ruined his night in some way when it was the complete opposite.
His thumbs hover over the screen as he thinks of a response. He's over the moon that she still decided to text him and that she'd avoiding the path of pretending nothing happened. In all honesty, he's unsure if he could live with himself when he had all those images and thoughts of her in his head, knowing that they'd just moved on from it.
Hey Y/N. Please don't apologize for last night, I had a really nice time talking to you. I'm definitely still interested. Are you available tonight?
She's quick in her reply, which makes him smile. He can imagine the way she's probably alternating between biting her lip and picking at the skin around her fingernails, both of which he assumed were nervous habits that he picked up on last night.
ok if you say so.. and yes im free! i was planning on ordering some takeout if ur interested, i don't really have any food here that isn't a baked good lol
Harry chuckles at that. Claire mentioned once that Y/N works at the bakery close to the park he does his morning jogs through. When he passes by at early sunrise, the windows are often illuminated with a warm glow, and he wonders if it's coming from her.
That's okay, I was planning on cooking if you'd like me to bring you some. I have ingredients for a stir fry. Would that be okay?
She replies with what he can only describe as a bashful but affirmative answer (only if you're sure!! but that sounds great!) and sends a second message with her address. He's beaming as he chops up vegetables and sautes them up rice noodles and homemade peanut sauce, indulging in the simple act of cooking for Y/N.
Last night, after he'd gotten home from the bar, he'd done some research on daddy dom relationships. He knew of them, but if he was going to offer being Y/N's, he wanted to ensure that he was knowledgable on anything she could want. He learned that there were many different facets of that type of dynamic, some of which he was comfortable with and some of which he wasn't. Like any other dominant and submissive relationship, hard and soft limits would be discussed, but this one, Harry realized, wouldn't just consist of kinks he had no interest in engaging in.
As he spoons the finished stir fry into a plastic container to take to Y/N's, his stomach brews with butterflies. He's never expressed interest in dominating someone he already knows in real life. Those relationships existed purely in the confides of the bedroom. It's a commitment, he understands, to engage in such an agreement with her.
So why isn't he scared?
. . .
"This is delicious, Harry," Y/N all but moans over her serving of stir fry, chopsticks in hand. He smiles before biting into a piece of broccoli coated in peanut sauce.
"I'm glad you like it. It's a go-to dish for me, especially on weekdays when I'm exhausted from work."
She hums, nodding thoughtfully as she chews. A temporary silence takes over as they eat, ended by Harry eventually clearing his throat and gently placing his bowl on the table.
"So, about finding you a dom," he says, and her eyes perk up slightly, as if she's an over-excited puppy. "I have a proposition."
"Oh, you found someone already?"
"Sort of," Harry answers vaguely, "I think— well, no, I know. I would be interested in taking that place."
Y/N raises her eyebrows. She sets her own bowl of food on the table and purses her lips as she chews the rest of the contents in her mouth.
"I don't think you want that." she says gently.
"Why?" he shoots back, a near immediate response, "I spent all night and day thinking about it. I do."
Y/N sighs, "Because it's more than just spanking me when I have an attitude with you or cooking me a meal. I can be a lot, Harry, and it's the reason why I've gone through so many dominants already."
"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe you go through so many because they're the problem?" Harry asks. "You lay it all out on the table, right? You tell them exactly what you're looking for. Everything you told me last night."
She nods.
"And they still agree. You tell them you want a dominant outside of the bedroom, too, that the 'daddy' role you're looking for is a caretaker," Harry continues, "So how does that make you the issue?"
"Because what I'm looking for is... unconventional," she fights back, convinced in her stance. "Guys think the whole daddy thing is hot until... until I actually need them."
"It's not unconventional, Y/N. I did a ton of research last night. There are a million sites explaining what a DDLG relationship is and what it can consist of. The things that go into it on both sides, but especially on the dominant's. I'm not saying I know everything about being one, but I've at least cared to learn."
Y/N sighs and rolls her lips into mouth. She'll admit, she's impressed. She's not sure any guy she's ever been with has done that.
"So... what would you want, then?" Y/N asks, her voice softened.
"Well, I definitely have limits, but it's mainly dependent on what you're interested in," Harry explains. She finds that he's far too nonchalant for his own good, and the casual nature of his tone makes her even more nervous.
"If you did some research then I'm sure you learned about the extents it can go to," she says thoughtfully and he nods, resting his chin in his palm, "I don't have a desire for the more extreme things. Diapers and pacifiers and all that."
"Okay."
She's taken aback by his lack of response — part of her expected some sort of "oh, thank god" — but she's starting to wonder if Harry just simply exists in a nonjudgmental space. One that she's very much not used to.
"I just want someone to take care of me," she eventually forced out, setting her gaze on her bare thighs, a pair of lavender sweatshorts hung around her hips. "I can be bratty both in bed and out. I like to be put in my place. I enjoy being teased and humiliated. I like punishments and being pushed to my limits, even if I give you a hard time about it. I've been described as a handful when I'm feeling... little."
Harry had read a decent amount about "little space" last night. He'd dominated some partners to the point of falling into subspace, but little space seemed to differ. With his base knowledge on submission, he was able to tell that she was slipping into hers last night, giving him the inkling that making decisions for her and taking away the guess work was something she liked.
"I'm sure you're not, but all of those things are fine by me," Harry replies easily, "What do you like when you're feeling little?"
"It depends on what put me there. If I had a bad day at work, I like a bath and you cooking for me... I get really touchy. If it happens from a sexual scenario, it can be quite difficult to pull me out. But I get really quiet... I'll be more pliable, allow you to throw me around. I'll usually cry, but if you're doing things correctly, they won't be bad tears. Just from overwhelm."
"What sexual scenarios put you there?"
She clears her throat, her tongue thick in her mouth. Thinking about these things is enough to make her slip, but she won't disclose that. At least not right now.
"A number of things... edging or orgasm denial, being tied up and gagged. Anal since it requires trust and prepping. Any type of punishment, but especially spanking."
Harry's nodding his head as she speaks, apparent that he's processing everything she's telling him. He's not surprised by anything, per se, considering he's open to different experiences and nothing seems undoable. It's as if he's making a mental list, adding a separate section to his brain with Y/N's name plastered over it, filing away the information.
"What about when you're not feeling little?" Harry proceeds with little befuddlement, "What does the ideal dominant look like for you then?"
"Um... still just loving and caring. I likely won't be as bratty. More... in control of myself, I suppose," Y/N murmurs in reflection. "I would still like to have scenes with you when I'm not in that headspace, if that's alright. I'm not sure if it would be crossing a boundary."
"Of course." he answers readily without a blink of doubt, "When I embark on a dominant and submissive relationship, I don't like to half-ass it. I don't think there's a point in only asking for me when you need me. You'll never find comfort in me when you're feeling small."
Her heart warms at that, flutters in her tummy making it difficult to hide the smile curling at her lips. She assumes that she should've guessed Harry would be good at this type of thing; she's witnessed how deeply he cares for people. Even when they barely knew each other, he always greeted Y/N like they'd known one another for years, asking about her job at the bakery (she doesn't even remember if she told him he worked at one) and what sweets they were creating nowadays.
She thinks Harry just has a way of making people feel special.
It's what makes her core tingle, squeezing her thighs together for a semblance of relief as she rolls her lips into her mouth. She can feel herself starting to dampen in her underwear and she glances down at Harry's lower half, peeking through her eyelashes to see if he has a growing bulge.
"Do you think we can do a scene tonight, maybe?" Y/N asks softly, glancing back up at his eyes.
Harry chuckles. "I take it you think I'd be a good fit for you then."
"Mhm."
"You're cute," he smirks and pinches her thigh lightly, "No scenes tonight though. I can come over tomorrow, but I want to properly feed you and make sure you're hydrated before we do anything."
Y/N nods as she nibbles on her bottom lip. If she's being honest, she wants nothing more than to crawl into Harry's lap, parting her thighs and grinding into him while he babbles dirty words into her ear. She's always found him attractive, but knowing that he's willing to cater to her own sexual desires lights a fire deep in her stomach.
"I'm gonna head home, but I'm looking forward to getting started with you," Harry says with a small smile, "Oh, one more thing — no touching yourself tonight."
Her eyes widen as he stands from the couch, ready to grovel; they haven't even begun doing anything yet and he's already telling her what to do—
"Y/N," Harry growls, reaching up to grab her face. He squishes her cheeks together and her pupils broaden, surprised by his sudden change in demeanor. "Nod if you understand."
She nods.
"Good girl. I'll text you when I'm coming over tomorrow. I'll bring you dinner again."
Again, she nods.
"Say 'thank you', Y/N."
"Thank you, daddy."
Harry's lips curl into a smirk, releasing his grasp. "Oh, we're gonna have fun together."
. . .
The next day, Y/N can't stop squirming.
It's to the point where her co-workers notice that she's jumpier than normal, clumsy in her icing and piping when she's normally spot-on and nearly perfect in her efforts. She hears from Harry a few times throughout the day — he texts her in the morning and during his lunch break, checking in to see how she's doing, and it makes her entire body swarm with butterflies. He asks if she's eating a proper lunch (she's not), scolds her for it (which she secretly enjoys), and then tells her he'll make her something for her to take to work tomorrow.
Thankfully, she doesn't have a closing shift today, so she's done at a little past 6 pm. It's to her surprise, though, when she's peeling off her flour-coated apron, she spots Harry standing outside the bakery, a cozy cardigan and a graphic t-shirt covering his body.
Y/N has to do a double take. He didn't say anything about meeting her at work this evening, but he has to be here for her, doesn't he?
After sliding her jacket on and grabbing her tote bag, she exits the bakery, closing the glass door behind her gingerly. Harry turns, his eyes lighting up when he sees her.
"Hey," he greets with a grin, "Have a good day at work?"
"Um, yeah, it was alright. Sorry, did we say you would pick me up? I must've forgotten—"
"Oh, no," Harry shakes his head as he jerks his head in the direction of his car, reaching out to slide her bag off of her shoulder. He takes it into his hand, his fingers wrapping around the canvas strap as she shuffles to keep up. "I finished making dinner a little early, figured I'd meet you here. Is that alright?"
"Yeah. Yeah, that's really nice of you, thank you."
Harry hums as they approach his car. He unlocks the doors and they both get in, but he leans over before she has a chance to buckle herself up, clicking her seatbelt in. It's a small act that makes the butterflies return, but she doesn't comment on it as he starts the engine and begins the short drive back to hers.
"I made us some veggie pasta for dinner tonight. Does that sound good?"
"Delicious," Y/N replies honestly as she watches blurs of warm-toned leaves go by. "Thank you again."
A soft smile appears on his lips as he pulls onto her road. "Of course. How are you feeling?"
"I'm alright. A little tired. Nervous, to be honest."
Harry chuckles and briefly glances over at her, "Yeah? Nothing to be nervous about. We'll take it slow."
She shuffles in her seat and wedges her hands between her thighs. "Just don't want you to judge me, is all."
"I won't, but we did manage to forget to have the conversation on hard sexual limits. Do you mind listing yours?"
She nods. She's done this dance enough times to know the importance of discussing this subject matter, though she doubts there's much Harry could do that wouldn't be a turn-on for her.
"Um, any bathroom things, fisting, foot stuff... I'm fine with anal as long as we agree upon doing it beforehand. And if you're going to inflict physical pain on me, that's fine, but I'd prefer it if we built up to it — so, like, starting with spanking then the belt or a paddle."
"Sure, that makes perfect sense. I like to have conversations with my subs after we do a scene, so we can see how you feel about what we did," he pulls into a parking spot outside of her home, yanking the key from the ignition, "And, just so you know — no anal tonight and no spanking unless you deserve it."
He taps her cheek gently with his spare hand and she flushes as she unbuckles her seatbelt and gets out of the car. She follows him up to her front door and fishes her keys from the pocket of her jacket, unlocking it and stepping inside.
"Are y'alright with the traffic light system?" Harry questions as he sets her bag down on the slim table placed in the entryway.
"Yeah. My safe word is yarn, just FYI."
He wrinkles his eyebrows and pulls a few to-go containers out from his own bag. He opens his mouth to question her but she puts her hand up to stop him.
"I like to crochet. Don't make fun of me for it."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Harry murmurs, traipsing in the direction of her kitchen, "Go change out of your work clothes and put something pretty on for me, angel girl."
She's happy to comply, immediately feeling giddy at Harry telling her what to do from the get-go. When she gets upstairs and to her bedroom, she meanders over to the drawer she has for evenings like this. It's filled with lacy bodysuits and ruffly underwear, knee high socks, and pastel lingerie. Eager to rid her body of the jeans and sweater she wore all day, she opts for a sheer pink bralette and matching shorts that barely cover her bum. It's a sweet set that she personally likes, but she can't help the slight worry that Harry won't enjoy it as much as she does.
She's already meandering into her little headspace as she heads back downstairs. Harry's already plated up their dinner, complete with small servings of a side salad. He looks up as soon as he hears her soft padding across the length of the living room, his jaw falling slack at her appearance.
"Look at you," he coos, standing from the couch and closing the distance between them, "You look beautiful."
Y/N licks her lips, keeping her gaze low. She feels herself slipping, but for once, she's not scared of letting it happen.
"What's wrong, little one?" Harry asks gently, pressing his pointer finger and thumb to her chin, raising her head, "Are you feeling small already?"
She nods, her eyes round.
"Mm, that was quick. Just from daddy taking care of you and putting on these pretty little clothes, huh?"
Again, she nods.
"Alright. Let's get some food in your belly and then daddy can play with you a bit?"
This time, she shakes her head.
"No? No scene tonight?" Harry guesses through furrowed brows.
"Wanna play now, please."
"Ahhhh," he nods, understanding now that she's looking to skip out on dinner. "Gotta eat first, baby. Then we'll play."
Y/N pouts and he chuckles, wrapping his fingers around her wrist and tugging her towards the couch.
"C'mon. You can sit in my lap, hm?"
Still in the trousers he wore to work today, Harry settles back against the couch. He pulls her body into his, wrapping an arm around her waist to keep her steady.
"Is this good?" he asks softly, catching the shell of her ear.
"Yes." she peeps, nibbling on her lip.
"Alright baby, grab your food for me. Gotta eat at least half before we do anything."
Wringing her hands in her lap, Y/N doesn't move. Harry runs his fingertips along the length of her arm, nosing at her shoulder.
"Would you... daddy, I..."
Her voice trails off and his heart squeezes, eager to coax whatever she's trying to say out of her.
"Ask, honey. Use your words." he encourages tenderly.
She forces the words out, even if they feel humiliating despite her clouded head. "Can you feed me, please?"
Harry hums. He won't say it in the moment because he can tell the request was difficult to muster out, but his entire body feels infinitely softer. He leans forward to grab her serving, scooping some pasta on the fork.
"Y'gonna be good and eat for me now?"
She nods, "I will. Thank you, daddy."
He murmurs out a you're welcome, continuing the quiet pattern of feeding her, watching her chew and swallow, and going back for more. He doesn't let her get off without eating a few bites of salad, chuckling gently at her quiet protests.
"Still feeling good?" Harry asks, setting her empty bowl back on the coffee table.
"Mhm. Playtime now?"
He smiles and nods, carefully shimmying her body off his lap. "Why don't you go upstairs and wait for me? Daddy needs to eat too."
Y/N shakes her head and sinks to the carpet, pressing her chin to his knee. "Wanna be close, please."
"Yeah?" Harry chuckles, grabbing his own bowl of pasta, "Okay, baby, you can sit there but no touching. I know you're nearly gagging for my cock."
He watches as she shivers, nibbling on her bottom lip and shifting her position slightly so her cheek is smushed against his thigh. He laughs quietly and threads his fingers through her hair, quickly eating his own portion. He can't deny that he's just as excited to get started — he, too, has been thinking about this all day, deciding what positions he'd fold her body into, if he'd edge her or overstimulate her with orgasm upon orgasm. He didn't want to fully push her limits so quickly — he wanted to create a foundation of trust between each other, but he couldn't help the inevitable daydreams that clouded his day.
He finishes his food quickly, tapping her head playfully to alert her that he's done. She lifts her head and he takes in her moony gaze, his heart thumping quickly in his chest at how sweet she looks.
"Upstairs, bunny. Hands and knees, bum in the air, okay?" He plucks at her bottom lip as he grants her guidance, her eyes fluttering shut, relieved to finally be getting instructions. She scurries up to her bedroom, listening to Harry putter around as he places their dirty dishes in the sink. As he asks, she lets her knees meld into the foamy texture of the mattress. With her cheek pressed against the pillow, she folds her legs and maneuvers her lower half into his requested position.
It feels like an eternity before Y/N hears Harry enter the room, shutting the door behind him. He doesn't move to remove any of his clothes, instead kneeling onto the bed behind her.
"You've been doing so good for daddy, haven't you, baby?"
She knows it's a rhetorical question but she nods into the plushy pillow, wiggling her butt. He chuckles and allows his palms to roam the expanse of her skin, from the bottoms of her thighs up to the swell of her ass. She keens at the feel of his touch, already obsessed with the way his large hands fit over her body.
"We won't be doing too much tonight, but I'll be asking for your color consistently. I want you to use your safe word at any point you deem necessary. Is that clear?"
Y/N nods her head and hums, though her answer is slightly muffled by the fluff of the pillow.
He continues rubbing slow circles into the globes of her ass, intent on getting her to feel as relaxed as possible. He can tell she's excited — he is, too — but above anything, he wants her to be calm.
"I brought some toys and things for us to play with," Harry continues, her ears perking up, "Can you tell me your color for each of them? It's perfectly okay if it changes at some point. I'd just like an idea of what you want."
Y/N has never had someone care this much — every time a dominant brought a toy to a session, he'd thrown it in there haphazardly. A vibrator turned up way too high, terribly knitted rope and, the worst by far, a butt plug that wasn't lubed whatsoever.
So she's keening over the care Harry puts into his role, her heart beating rapidly in her chest as he shuffles off the bed for a moment and slings the tote bag onto the comforter. She still can't see a thing that he's doing, but as she floats into a comfortable cloudy mindset, she becomes more and more content with letting him make the rules.
"Okay, baby. Know you want daddy to make the decisions but I need you to be good for me and tell me what you're comfortable with," Harry murmurs, his fingertips dancing along the soft material of her waistband. He doesn't dip below or tug them down; it more so feels like a reminder of what can come if she's good. "Tying your wrists with silk ties. Color?"
Her pussy pulsates at the immediate vision of her arms tied high above her head, unable to touch herself or him. "Mm. Green."
"And what about your legs? Are you okay with rope, or would you prefer silk down there, too?"
"Either one, daddy. Green for both."
Harry hums, dipping down to slowly press light kisses down the length of her spine. She shivers at the sensation of his soft lips making contact with her skin for the first time. "A vibrator for your cute little pussy?"
"Green," she whimpers as his hands find purchase on her hips.
"Can daddy use his mouth on you?" he asks, the low vibrations of his voice making her core leak with arousal. "On your pussy?"
"Yes, yes," Y/N nearly pleads, bucking her hips up against his grasp. He tuts softly, and she can imagine the way his tongue flicks up against his two front bunny teeth, a look of disappointment painted over his face.
"Be patient, bunny. Don't need you squirming around just 'cos you wanna be touched."
She wants to groan out when he removes his hands from her skin but resists the urge, especially because he just told her to be patient (something Y/N has never been good at). She feels like it's a punishment in and of itself — he's barely done anything, but she can still feel the phantom kisses he placed down her back, and the skin stretching over her hips somehow feels lonely without his large palms pawing at it.
"On your back." Harry suddenly instructs. She's quick to obey, rolling over onto the plush duvet. He's fast in his movements and already kneeling above her, wrapping her wrists together and fastening a bow with pink silk. "Have you used these before? Do you know how to get out of them if you need to?"
Y/N nods. She knows that she can simply pull her wrists apart to quickly dissolve the knot, instantly freeing herself.
"Good girl. Daddy's gonna use rope for your legs, okay? Use your safe word or red if you need."
She has to admit, she's immediately impressed with Harry's apparent knowledge of bondage. She's been tied up many times before, but if she had to guess how many times someone's properly tied her hands, breasts, or legs with rope, it would likely only be once or twice.
A wet gasp leaves her mouth when she realizes Harry isn't just tying her ankles down to the bed post. Instead, he's pressing her calves into the backs of her thighs, the slight burn of the rope pressing into her flesh in the most delicious way. Although she's able to close her legs, the knots still remove most of her mobility, especially with her arms tucked above her head.
After finishing with her legs, Harry stands from the bed, still in his tee-shirt and trousers. He admires his work from above with a devilish smirk on his face, making Y/N's skin warm.
"Aren't you just a wet dream?" he mocks lightly, trailing his fingertips up and along her knee, "All tied up and absolutely useless, hm? Can't even get out of bed, can you?"
Y/N shakes her head, her bottom lip beginning to wobble at his teasing. Everything about the scene is already so intense, the build-up so delicious and consuming and— fuck, he hasn't even touched her yet.
"You just need your daddy to do everything for you, don't you?" Harry continues, kneeling into the mattress. His hands find the insides of her thighs and he pushes them apart, but his eyes don't even fall to her core, instead keeping them square on her wide-eyed gaze. "Helpless little baby, aren't you? Say it. Say your daddy's helpless baby."
"I'm— I'm daddy's helpless baby." she stammers out, her tongue heavy in her mouth.
"Are you gonna cry already, bunny?" he asks, his lips curling up into a wicked smirk, "Haven't even fuckin' done a thing and you're crying over being tied up. This is what you wanted, isn't it? Wanted daddy to make all your choices? Get all cock dumb and drunk on my cum?"
She nods futilely. She doesn't even realize the wetness pooling in the corners of her eyes, but she feels tears leaking steadily as soon as he mentions it.
"P-please daddy. Wanna be touched."
"Ah, so you do have some thoughts going on up there."
It seems like maybe that's all it takes for Harry to finally cease his mocking, digging into the tote bag at the side of the bed to produce a silicone vibrator. It's light blue and long, with a bulbous head at the tip that she assumes is for stimulating the spongey spot deep inside of her.
He finds a spot between her thighs, kneeling back on his ankles. His hands move up her inner thighs and to the creases of where her legs meet her core, the sheer fabric of her pale pink shorts immediately giving way to the wetness seeping from her hole. Harry nearly groans out at that, the sight going straight to his rock hard cock being strained by layers of clothing.
With a feather light touch, he thumbs over her clit through the material. She immediately jolts and he chuckles, moving his finger to gently stroke over her mound.
"Desperate little thing. Begging for daddy's touch."
"Yes," Y/N mewls at the top of the bed, wiggling against the rough rope, "I need it daddy, please, touch me, I've been so good—"
"Have you?" he asks, retrieving his hand, "All you've done is do as I've asked. If anything, I'm the one that should get rewarded, don't you think? Picked you up from work, fed you, tied you up... sounds like you're just being greedy to me."
"I'm not— t-that is being good, daddy, I didn't touch myself like you said a-and I've earned it, please."
She's fully crying now, tears leaking from her eyes in steadfast streams that it actually makes Harry feel bad. She hasn't even stopped her begging by the time he's pulling her shorts down to reveal her weeping pussy, a soft tsk leaving his mouth.
"Stop pleading, bunny, I'll give you want you're so desperate for," Harry says, grabbing the vibrator. He'd initially planned to work her with his fingers before pressing the toy against her clit and pushing it inside, but he hasn't even spread her open and he can already see the creamy arousal coating her lips. He thinks that if he teases her for much longer, she may just disintegrate into the bed.
So instead, because he's him and he's not a nice dom, he cranks it onto the medium setting and nudges it up against her clit. She instantly gasps out and jerks her hips up at the vibrations, a near-yell leaving her throat. He's aware that every person is different and it'll take him some time to learn her body, but with the way that her legs are already shaking as he uses more pressure to press the toy against the bundle of nerves, he thinks he he's getting somewhere.
"Are you gonna cum already?" Harry asks, his eyebrows knitted together as his eyes rake over her body. Her own eyes are scrunched up, her lips parted as small whimpers escape her throat, beads of sweat beginning to tumble down the slopes and curves of her skin — it's a sight, and he wishes to commit it to memory.
"Y-yes," she admits, nodding quickly, "Can I? Please?"
In response, he transfers the vibrator to his left hand and slowly pushes a finger into her pulsating hole.
"Go ahead."
He strokes once or twice against her g-spot with his finger before she's crumbling, her chest concave with haphazard breaths and her back arched. Moans readily fall from her lips, her pussy squeezing his finger so tight it nearly makes him cum on the spot.
As Y/N comes down from her peak, she recalls Harry saying that they weren't doing anything too crazy today, so she wonders if that's it. If so, she supposes that's fine, but she thinks she'll over him a blowie, offering to let him fuck her face while she's still tied up with silk and rope.
Instead, he cranks the vibrator up another setting and pushes a second finger inside, eliciting a broken groan from her chest.
"Again." Harry instructs, curling his fingers deep inside of her.
"O-oh," Y/N whimpers with shaking thighs and a dizzy head, "Daddy, I—"
"Again, bunny." he repeats, quickening the pace of his fingers. "I want another one. Now."
She quickly realizes that she doesn't know if she'll ever be able to reject Harry, because it only takes a few more pumps of his digits until she's squeezing him again. She's never had two orgasms so close together and she finds that this one is more intense, her muscles not even fully relaxed as they contract around him once again.
Her eyes are still closed when he removes his fingers and she thinks she hears a faint sucking noise, though she can't be sure. He lowers the vibrator setting but keeps it flush against her clit, despite the way her pussy is all but begging for a break.
"Color." Harry demands, his hand finding the backside of her knee.
"G-green," she hiccups through tear-stained cheeks, "Can keep going, daddy. Please."
He nods once, lowering so his stomach is pressed against the mattress now. He finally clicks the toy off and pushes it to the side, pausing his assault on her core before spreading her lips open with his fingers.
"Jesus, you're fuckin' pretty," he mutters, watching as her hole pulsates from two back-to-back orgasms. He spits, the saliva landing on her spread slit, making her gasp. "Who owns this pussy, bunny?"
Y/N's chest is heaving, but she still manages his honorific through wet, splotchy cheeks.
"Say it again." he commands before leaning forward to lick a fat stripe from her hole to her clit.
"It's yours, daddy." she whispers, her hands forming tight fists above her form.
"Good girl. That's what I want you to say when you cum next, okay?"
She doesn't have a chance to question yet another orgasms as his tongue makes contact with her pussy, moaning deeply. He's already obsessed with her taste and she's sure she's never had someone go down on her with this much vigor. She's gulping for air when his tongue darts in and out of her hole before licking up to her clit, lips wrapped around the nub as he sucks harshly, whines sounding from her mouth at the sensitivity.
Y/N has never understood the phrase "making out with her pussy" until this exact moment.
She doesn't even know if he's coming up for air much, but he's quick to figure out the pattern that makes her thighs shake. Messy sounds come from below as he slurps at the arousal leaking from her, using the width of his tongue to lick upwards to her clit over and over again.
"Daddy!" Y/N squeals, jerking her hips involuntarily, only to be pressing her core even closer to his mouth, "Please, I— I think—"
"Cum." he mutters into her, suckling at her clit with such fervor that Y/N genuinely thinks she may pass out.
She doesn't, though, but the intensity of her orgasm claws up her body rapidly, loud cries bubbling up her throat as she repeats clamors of, "it's yours daddy, your pussy, it's yours."
She feels him press chaste kisses against her mound as he gently begins to untie the ropes, slowly easing her legs out of their angled positions. Once they're free, he helps her stretch them outward, continuing his trail of kisses up her body until he's straddling her waist between his thighs.
"Color," Harry murmurs, reaching up to release his wrists from the silk. Her eyes are set on the bulge in his pants and he gently taps her cheek, "Bunny, tell me your color."
"Green, daddy. That looks like it hurts."
She uses her newly freed hands to point at his crotch and he chuckles, shaking his head.
"I'm fine, lovebug. Are you sure you're still green? Looking quite floaty."
"I am," Y/N lulls her head to the side, leaning it against her shoulder as she circles her wrists, "Wanna keep going though. 'm okay."
"Do you remember your safe word?" he questions, grabbing one of her wrists and pressing soft kisses into the skin.
"Mhm."
"What is it?"
"Yarn. 'cos I like to crochet."
Harry grins, relieved that she isn't too far off the deep end. He finds her to be especially adorable when she's in her little space, the moony gaze in her eyes removing any traces of stress from her day-to-day life.
"That's right, baby," he replies, pulling off his tee-shirt. "Daddy's gonna fuck you now. Is that alright?"
"Yes, please. But I don't think I wanna cum again."
He hums and nods, unbuckling his pants and kicking them off his legs, "That's perfectly fine, bunny. You got daddy so hard that I don't think it'll take much for me to cum."
Y/N giggles at that and makes grabby hands at him, making him chuckle. "Off, please," she says, pointing to the briefs straining his cock.
"You're such a polite little girl, did you know that?" Harry asks as he pushes his underwear down, settling in between her legs.
"Daddy's polite girl."
If his cock wasn't painfully hard right now, he might've laughed at her repeating his words. Unfortunately, an hour of overstimulating Y/N and watching her writhe beneath his grasp, all tied up with no choice but to just take it — he's shivering at the images of it, and he knows he needs to cum within the next five minutes or his dick will surely fall off.
"Gonna push in, okay?" Harry asks softly, rubbing circles into her hip, "Remember, tell me if you need to stop. Daddy will always listen to you."
Y/N nods her head, blinking away the leftover moisture in her eyes from her bout of cries earlier. She knows that if she didn't feel so comfortable with him, there's no way she would be this far in her little space right now, where she just wants him to take and take until he's satisfied. It's maybe happened three or four times in the past with a dom she had that was actually pretty good, but she knows now doesn't even begin to measure up with Harry.
When his cock pops through her tight walls, it's a bit of a stretch, but she's wet enough with arousal from three orgasms that it barely burns. Instead, she finds herself enjoying the way her core adapts to his shape — not to mention, he looks gorgeous above her with his eyes squeezed closed and his jaw dropped in a quiet groan.
When she doesn't safe word, Harry starts to move. He takes it slow, knowing that if he immediately starts to pump the full of his length inside of her, it may cause her more pain than pleasure, regardless of how small she's feeling. Her plushy lips part as moans begin to fall from them, hooking her ankles behind his form to bring him closer.
"You're so big, daddy," Y/N breathes out, a strangled whimper coming from Harry. "I love it, I love having you inside me."
"Yeah? My little girl wants her daddy's cock in her all the time?" He pushes through grit teeth, his jaw flexing as he begins to quicken his strokes, "Tell me, bunny. Tell me how much you want daddy."
"Oh—," she mewls as he begins to brush up against her g-spot, "I want it always daddy, I-I need it— oh, god— please daddy, please—"
"Sweet little girl sounds so pretty when she begs," He says as he takes one of his palms and presses it against her lower stomach, "This pretty pussy is mine now. You hear me? It's daddy's pussy."
"Yes, yes— fuck, it's yours daddy!"
Harry growls — actually growls — and shifts his hand down to smack against her clit, a throaty moan falling from Y/N's mouth.
"Dumb little babies don't curse," he snaps, slapping her clit once more, "Or do you wanna be punished? Not get any of daddy's cum?"
She shakes her head quickly, her eyes nearly rolling back at the sting of pain radiating through her core. "I want it, please!"
"Yeah? Beg for it, bunny."
She does — she pleads and begs and all but grovels on her hands and knees until Harry pulls out and pumps his cock over her, ropes of warm cum painting the skin of her stomach all the way up to her chest. There's so much (like an impressive amount, Y/N thinks), and she wants to scoop it up and taste it, but Harry grabs her wrist and gives her a look before she can.
"If you do that, you will have to call out of work tomorrow."
She giggles and nibbles on her bottom lip, the little headspace she's swimming in telling her to disobey him. He sighs and shakes his head, grabbing the tee-shirt he was wearing earlier and swiping it over her body, ridding her of his cum.
"You're a naughty little thing," he mumbles, tossing the tee-shirt to the floor — he makes a mental note to throw her bedding and everything in the wash once she's out of her little space. "C'mon baby, up. Gonna take a bath now."
"With you, right?" Y/N mumbles with heavy eyes. He nods as he leans down to scoop her up in his arms, guiding them to the bathroom. He sits her on the toilet and she frowns, making him roll his eyes.
"You don't want a UTI. This isn't a sex thing, just pee while I run you a bath."
She does but only because he tells her to, and she knows she'll feel embarrassed about this tomorrow, but she's okay with it right now. He busies himself with turning the water and making sure it's warm before plugging the drain.
"I brought some bubble bath and epsom salts with me but it's in my bag. Can I leave you while I go get those?"
Again, Y/N nods wordlessly and he leans down to press a kiss to her hair. She flushed and wipes while he's gone, and he returns while she's washing her hands.
Harry knows it feels oddly domestic of them to be naked and prepping to take a bath together after an intense scene, especially since this is the first time they've done this. In the back of his mind, he wonders if they should've talked through the implications of them beginning this type of relationship — a ruined friendship being one of them — and he knows it was selfish of him to forgo that conversation altogether.
He ignores his worries and instead helps her into the bubble bath once it's ready, tucking his body in behind hers as soon as she's situated. It's silent between them for the first time in hours as he wraps his arms around her shoulders, lightly massaging her shoulders.
"How are you feeling?" He finally asks after a few moments of quiet.
"Tired," she mumbles, laying back against his broad chest. He can't tell if she's still floaty by her one-word response so he continues rubbing her back, allowing her to sink into the warmth of the bath.
They don’t speak again after that, not until the water goes cold and Y/N almost falls asleep in the comfort of his arms. In the meantime, he makes sure to gently swirl a clean washcloth over her skin, using his favorite lavender scented body wash, and wash her knotty hair. All the while he whispers how special she is, how she’ll never be too much, but especially not to him. He decides it’s okay if she doesn’t hear him because she’s too out of it, but hopes that his words at least seep into her subconscious so she believes the same.
#I will proof read this when I’m not so burnt out !#writing#harry styles#harry styles fan fic#harry styles fic#harry styles one shot#harry styles blurb#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles x reader#harry styles smut#harry styles writing#harry styles fluff#harry styles imagine#Harry styles angst#harry styles x you#Harry styles au#harry styles oneshot#one direction
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any hobie and/or miguel icks? 😟
whoever sent this: thank you + i ADORE you. i hope you don't mind i'm switching up the formatting/style a it in comparison to my older icks... shorter list, more detailed <3
(warning: some fem terms used at the end, such as “mama!”)
-
Miguel O'Hara
- This guy... has some long ass toenails. Type of toenails that poke you at night in bed, and tear holes in his socks.
It's maybe somewhat related to the claw thing he's got going on? Has a lot stronger and faster-growing nails than the average person... but the real problem here is that he's TERRIBLE about clipping them. Claims it doesn't bother him even remotely and that you're the one overreacting when you ask him to... but hardly anything gets through to him about it. You probably even offer to do it for him one day, thinking the offer of a foot massage would sway his thinking and that it'd actually work... but he fought you on that just as easy...!!!
...which is how you came to the conclusion that you have a man who'll even argue w/ you over toenails. Petty boy.
- Miguel is also tired 24/7. AND yeah, it's pretty hard to be un-sympathetic towards that, but he's tired in the... I'm-gonna-prioritize-this-one-last-email-over-saying-goodnight-to-you way. Which gets real irritating when you're asking him to help you out w/ anything, like cleaning up or answering a question or JUST HAVING A DAMN CONVERSATION W/ YOU and he's using "I'm tired" as an excuse when his response is shitty or distracted.
Like one of those stupid guys whose always squinting at their damn iPad when you ask what he wants for dinner... which is ironic given that he'll get snippy at you for not giving him your full, entire attention whenever he wants it. Type of man to start picking imaginary lint off your head when you're simply trying to finish up a text before engaging him so that you aren't distracted.
- Odd about Lyla. Not that he loves her or anything, but she'll like pop up to give him updates about whatever even if you're MID-MAKEOUT session and he won't change that setting. Pulling away from your lips all pouty and squinty only to glare at his watch for thirty seconds before trying to go right back into kissing you.
No. No sir.
(Lyla will also always say something to or-but-usually-and about you, which... Okay, she's an AI and doesn't Get It... but it's still weird because it feels like someone you don't know just walked into the room.)
- Picks his nose when he's too busy to find a tissue, and forgets to sanitize his hands after. Denies this when you tell him.. but you've witnessed this multiple times (he's weirdly kind of whiney for a dude and lazy for a workaholic LOL).
Hobie Brown
- Lovely boyfriend because he doesn't give a crap about your appearance or the idea of needing to "look nice" for a man... but also stupid, nuisance boyfriend because this means he doesn't give one hoot if you try to get all gussied up for him. Nags you about wasting time getting ready because he doesn't need you to do all that instead of just saying "THANK YOU, YOU LOOK NICE." Even probably complains about you feeding into gender stereotypes or w/e when you do something like shave your legs or pluck your eyebrows😭
You try to talk to him about this, ask if he even cares that you tried to look nice, and he skirts around admitting it because he has an argument for everything. "'oughta know I think you're pretty either way"-ass when you just spent an hour trying to look all good for him.
- Tries to share the most obscure music with you... which is like, sweet in concept, but weird when it actually happens since it's never like a generic love song but an eleven minute underground jam session.
Which isn't to say he has bad taste in music, usually it's fine if not fantastic... but you try to tell him you don't want to listen to some dude's first draft of himself banging on a drum set for a full album and he's like: "tsk."
HOBIE. TSK??? FUCKING TSK????????? WHAT ABOUT WHAT OTHER PEOPLE LIKE????????
(He'll also use his to get out of listening to your music. Claiming his "inconsistency" is why he liked your playlist yesterday but not today. Stop!!!)
- And you know I gotta say it, he's a punk, after all: absolutely refuses to clean his favorite leather jacket, and it smells RANK. He's genuinely sentimental about it, though... and if you even try to bring up cleaning it somehow (even if very gently), he's acting like you betrayed him. Goes through the five stages of grief over you asking him not to wear it on one of your dates, and teases you by TALKING to it:
"Mumma didn't mean that, jackie. She just doesn't understand our lifestyle, does she?" while giving you a (lighthearted) stink eye.
#miguel o'hara x reader#hobie brown x reader#hobie#miguel#atsv#LOL THIS WAS SO FUNNNN I HOPE ITS OK TO READ#I'M EBARASSED THO SO YEEET#SORRY I BAD AT TAGS LATELY WAHH#caitie things#gen#anon
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congrats on 1000 followers!! I love your fics sm <333
could I request early seasons!spencer x bau!reader with prompts 12&19 from the general dialogue list?
maybe some inexperienced!reader and fluff??
A MUTUAL SECRET [CLIMACTERIC]
12. “You can’t tell anyone. Seriously. Even them.”
19. “I think about you all the time.”
WARNINGS: N/A
s1!spencer reid x gn!reader || fluff || 1.0k || climacteric event!!
a/n: tyy <333 this was so cute to write man 😭
main masterlist!! ⋆｡°✩ event masterlist!!
Oh to think that you’d managed to worm your way into a relationship with Spencer Reid.
More like he’d wormed himself into a relationship with you.
First it was him making an extra coffee and sitting it on your desk. Then it was waiting for you before leaving the office so you could get the metro together. Then it was inviting you over for movie nights and getting tickets for the philharmonic orchestra.
And then all of a sudden you were going out for dinner and he’d bought you flowers and then you were kissing under your porch canopy.
It was a lot.
It was the first real relationship you’d ever had. The first serious relationship. A relationship that involved full transparency and trust and vulnerability that you’d never shared with somebody before.
“Can we uh, talk for a second?” You dump your go-bag on your hotel bed, watching as he does the same for his own. You’d managed to pair up pretty inconspicuously, the hotels were usually doubled up for simplicity reasons, and you and Spencer being so close even before you got together allowed you to snatch him as your roommate with no suspicion from any of your teammates.
“Yeah, are- are you alright?” Spencer furrows his eyebrows in concern, walking around his bed towards yours, rubbing his hand deftly over your left bicep. “Is something wrong?”
“No no it’s nothing like that,” You shake your head quickly, bringing up your right hand to rest on the curve of his neck. “I just wanted to speak about something with you,”
“Okay…” He gives you a small nod, offering no resistance as you guide him to sit on the edge of the bed with you, your hands sliding down his arms to hold his.
“So,” You give his hands a soft squeeze as you start, trying to shatter the growing anxiety in his irises before it can wash over his entire face. “I really like you Spencer, and these last few months have arguably been the best of my life, even with all the crazy shit we go through at work,”
You laugh toward the end of your sentence, and it’s contagious enough for a smile to break out onto his face as well, but that small well of anxiousness still lingered behind his gaze, anticipating the turn of the conversation. “But..?”
“But nothing,” You let go of one of his hands to cup the side of his face, your thumb rubbing over his cheek. “I look forward to where this relationship is headed,”
“Okay- uh- me too…” He nods slowly against your palm, bringing his hand up to cover your own. “So, what is this about then..?”
“I know we’re profilers, and no one really listens to the ‘don’t profile your team’ rule, but uh, I’m not sure that I’m ready to them that were… together yet,”
“Oh- right yeah- that’s- that’s it? That’s all?” You can see his eyes visibly relax at your confession, like he’s physically relived it’s not something worse.
“You’re not- upset? Angry?”
“Why would I be?” He turns his head further into your hand. “Our relationship is about me and you, not the team,” He laughs softly against your palm, one that you reciprocate with a soft smile.
“Good- good okay…” You laugh softly with a short nod. “I’ve been uh thinking about how to bring it up to you, a lot, I think about you a lot in general though, like most of the time actually—”
“I think about you all the time,” Spencer’s confession cuts off your own, and you both stare at each other blankly for a few seconds before bursting into a shared fit of quiet giggles.
It was like the two of you were a pair of teenagers in your first ever relationship. To be fair it was your first ever relationship. For the both of you.
“Seriously though—” Once your giggles subsided you tugged him closer to you, resting your foreheads together. “You can’t tell anyone, seriously, even them okay? Not until we’ve got this properly figured out,”
“Sounds good to me,” he nods against you gently, bumping your noses together. “I still get to keep you either way,”
“I’m all yours Doc,” You link your arms around his neck, leaning forward like you’re going in for a kiss and swerving at the last second to bury your head into his shoulder and pull him down until you’re both laying flat across the mattress of your twin-sized hotel bed.
“I think this bed is a little small to support the both of us-” Spencer laughs as he turns onto his side, anchoring his hand over your waist. “why don’t we—”
“—push them together?”
“Push them together?”
The two of you sound like synched metronomes with how perfectly you match suggestions, and it’s enough to send you both into another fit of giggles as you nod enthusiastically at your shared idea.
“Okay, you get this one and i’ll get the other one,” Spencer sits up with pointed fingers as he lays out your plan, and the giggling for continues right up until you’re both tucked up under the sheets like two desperately in love peas in a pod.
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fluff#spencer reid fluff#mgg#climacteric 🪶
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personally, i found it very attractive: l. hughes
blurb: in which an interview with the devils' upcoming rookie takes the intern by suprise. / word count: 1.5k / pairing: luke hughes x fem!reader
To be fair, all that I wanted to do was leave the Prudential Center, go home, and take a long bath. The game between the New Jersey Devils and the New York Rangers had gone into overtime, and as much as I loved my job, it truly had been a long day.
Flashing my lanyard at the security guard standing outside of the Devils' locker room, I was ushered into the room, joining the growing cohort of other journalists; writers who had made their entire career off of reporting on the comings-and-goings in the sports world. Now that the team had been solidified with major additions, and taken players off of their Injury Report roster, the Devils had put up a good fight against their Hudson River rivals.
Grabbing my phone and opening voice notes, I made a beeline for the one player that I needed to cover— Luke Hughes, one of the newest additions to the Devils, and a hell of a defenseman that I needed to talk to on his play earlier on the ice. And, thanks to the work I had put in weeks before trying to get this same interview, I had the opportunity to actually talk to him, instead of having to wait around in a circle while other journalists droned on (and asked) practically the same questions over and over again.
I had fallen in love with sports journalism because of this— because of the opportunity to speak with the players who have it their all on that ice, and who had a true passion for the game they played.
I once again flashed my I.D. to one of the team's publicists, Sharyl, and she smiled over at me— shaking my hand and calling over Luke.
"Hi Y/N! How are you holding up over this season?" she asked as we stood in our corner, both angled to see the player coming towards us.
"Hi Sharyl, I'm doing well! Just finished up my third-year, and I just need this last interview to finish up the project I've been working on these past few weeks," I told her. It was true— I had been working on this player profile for the past few weeks, and currently, this single nineteen-year-old rookie was the only person left on my list before I could publish the article that I was hoping would help my career.
"Oh that sounds so good, sweetheart! I know just how many hours you've been putting in here, and I'm so excited to read!" the older lady said.
"Here's Luke now!" she said, saying hello to the defenseman, and then turning back to me.
"Luke, this is Y/N, the reporter I mentioned from ESPN's journalism internship cohort. She's just going to go over a few things with you, and finish up her profile," she told the curly-haired boy.
"Hi, Luke, I'm Y/N, it's nice to meet you!" I spoke up, putting my hand out for him to shake.
It seemed to take him a few moments to catch up with me; and, to be fair, that was to be expected. I was his age, and from the way Sharyl was speaking about me, you'd expect me to be much older, or even a man. When I had begun working for ESPN's College Internship program, I had started with baseball as my main coverage sport— slowly growing from that to hockey as the seasons changed, and then, finally, landing on the Devils as my main beat at the beginning of the season. With all that, however, I knew the way people looked at me— questioning as to why an eighteen year old college student was interviewing men in sports that others thought I didn't even know existed, or even know how they worked. So, his reaction was expected.
The six-two boy in front of me seemed to be struck out of whatever stupor he was in, however, and shook my hand back.
"Hi, Y/N, it's nice to meet you. Sharyl said you'd be stopping by," he said. He was quiet, and I could tell how much of a toll the game had on him— despite being freshly showered, he sported his signature smirk— looking down at me as the cheers and celebrations kept it up behind him.
"Yeah! I just have a few questions to ask, but do you want to follow me out to the media office? It shouldn't take too long, especially since I'm sure you want to go celebrate your win tonight," I told him.
Not really looking for a response, I looked over the boy— he was, admittedly, cute. His eyes were full of life— and he filled out his after-game clothing well. That, and the coupling of beauty marks over his face just enhanced how handsome he was. God, get it together, I told myself. You're on the job!
Finding ourselves in one of the various media offices hosted in the Prudential Center's basement, I sat down across from the rookie, and waited until we were both situated to start the interview.
“So, thank you for sitting down with me! It was a long game out there, but you’re really pushing through,” I laughed, trying to ease the tension I could feel on my end. I really didn’t want to make a fool of myself in front of this very cute boy, and even less knowing that he was a professional player in the sport I covered heavily.
“No— no it’s all okay, no worries,” he said, “I’d rather be here than listening to Shmido trying to recap the entirety of the second-half,” he laughed.
“Well, you’re the first to say that,” I smiled back. “So, now that you’re on your second official NHL game, I kind of have to point out— you went from playing for Michigan, and then skating for the league in just a few weeks, and you admittedly have had a huge transformation—” I started.
“Yeah I got faster,” he laughed, his cheeks tinging a shade of pink, and I couldn’t really lie to myself and blame it on his earlier celebrations. “Don’t worry, you can say it— Jacky has.”
“Well, I’ll be honest, it’s really been great to watch. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you the entire game,” I said, and then admittedly felt my own cheeks flush, because truly, what was I thinking? Was I openly flirting with a guy I was supposed to be interviewing?
Before I could feel myself blush even further, or even make the situation even more awkward, the silence was broken with Luke’s laugh— a stark and loud chuckle that made me look up automatically. His blush had now traveled from his cheeks to the tip of his hair, peeking out of his wet curls.
He ran his hand through his hair, “Well I mean, that’s definitely great to hear— are you serious?” he said, and for the life of me, I couldn’t tell if he was joking— if he was making fun of my obvious lack of flirting ability, or egging me on.
“Very,” I said. “It was a great game, and the goal you made in OT was just so smooth! Personally, I found it very attractive” I said; I had spent the entirety of the game looking at Luke skating— the smooth and strategic moves he made on the ice, passing the puck back and forth as if he was moving in water. He was beautiful on the ice— weaving between the opposing team’s players quicker and way more efficiently to the point where they couldn’t even keep up with him.
“And I have to point out the pass you made to Jack in the second-half and the assist you sent to Nico! I haven’t seen a lot of puck work that really resembled that in such a while, and—” I cut myself off, trying not to let myself ramble any farther in front of the boy I could feel myself crushing on.
“I mean that’s really a high compliment, thank you,” he said. “I mean, I know this might not be entirely appropriate for the interview, but I’m free after this, if you are two?” he asked. This had to be some kind of cliche, I thought, not really thinking that he had just asked me out.
I did, however, hope he wasn’t egging me on— and, besides, after this profile came out, I wouldn't be covering the NJ Devils until next season, so why not? Why not spend an afternoon with a hot hockey player who I had already called cute?
“You know what? I am also free, and I was going to get dinner, if you wanted to join me,” I responded, hoping the youngest Hughes would take me up on the offer too. “I also don’t have class tomorrow, so yes, I am very free after this,” I laughed.
The boy in front of me smiled up, pushing the curls falling in his face back, and saying a quick “Well, then let’s get this thing started.”
#luke hughes#new jersey devils#nj devils#luke hughes x reader#luke hughes imagine#nhl blurb#nhl imagine
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Arven, And The Habits Built By Parental Neglect
So I was going to make this big song and dance post about Arven’s entire arc and character psychology but I think other people have picked that one apart better than me. However I DO still want to talk about something I haven’t seen addressed too much.
As much as I think the phrase ‘love language’ is a gross over-simplification of psychology (and also not real, go look it up, the guy who made it was awful) it’s actually a really fitting term for the thing I want to talk about, which is how Arven has built up a habit of caring for others despite the neglect his parents showed him, and made it a core part of his personality. In essence, he’s deemed himself the ‘mom friend’ because he never had that kind of support growing up.
You can see this throughout multiple parts of the game, but here’s my list of favourites:
• If you pick the dialog option and say that you’ll go along with Arven’s quest-line before he explains what you’ll be doing, he exclaims that you have no sense of caution for your own safety. That you shouldn’t just go brazenly dashing into agreements like that.
• He is always looking after Mabosstiff so tenderly, and while a lot of this is due to them growing up together, I think it’s the way he shows his care for Mabosstiff that communicates my point.
• After noticing Miraidon eat your sandwich, he begins to make extra ones so that you don’t go without one. He even splits his own sandwich with you after Miraidon steals the first one you ever make together.
• He mentions that he cleans his dorm every day he’s there because Maboschiff sheds fur a lot.
• Post-Game, he admits that he would like to be a chef who can make good food for others.
Basically, I adore the tiny writing detail that even Arven’s positive traits are still shaped by the parental neglect that he went through, because it’s surprisingly realistic for the writing of a kid’s game.
He’s messy, he’s allowed to grieve and be confused about his feelings openly, he’s allowed to be irritable and strange in the eyes of others. But the game also never lets you forget how much he truely cares for others, even those he doesn’t know very well.
This can also be subtly inferred from just how amazingly fast Arven manages to raise a team that is arguably the only bordering-on-difficult fight in the game. Arven claims to not be a good trainer and claims Mabosstiff was his only pokémon before the events of the game (we can infer this from how he mentions after your first battle with him that he only just caught that Skwovet)
But just look at how fast he manages to make a team! Your trainer is always complimented for their rapid success, but man, they should look at Arven who doesn’t even have that much skill at the start of the game. I like to think this improvement is a direct result of his care for his Pokémon, and his desire to help and protect others. It’s no wonder why he claims in the post-game tournament that he’s been working super hard to build a team that can protect his loved ones, he really means it.
Arven also has a terrible habit of attempting to do most things by himself until the absolute last minute. He refuses to ask Nemona for help with the titans despite knowing she has the skills for it. He only asks you when he’s at his wit’s end starting to lose hope in Mabosstiff, and notices that you had the skill to work with Miraidon.
Even more than all that stuff I mentioned before however, I adore the end cutscene of the game for taking Arven, this character who displays all these little quirks, and then turns around and says ‘it’s your turn to be cared for by people who care about you, you don’t need to do this alone’
Nemona tells the group to take the scenic route home.
Penny suggests snacks.
Miraidon gently pushes Arven toward the group.
And the last scene in the game is so important for that reason, Arven is finally having others care for him. After everything that has happened, he has at least a few people who will support him and show him that care his parents lacked.
So anyway happy holidays, have that shoddy analysis <3
#arven#arven pokemon#mabosstiff#pokemon#pokemon scarvi#spoilers#pokemon spoilers#scarvi#nemona#penny#analysis#pokemon scarlet violet#pokemon scarlet#pokemon violet#Pokémon
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DC x DP Prompt *10*
It had been a relative uneventful day in Gotham, the new Week just started and most of the big rouges were still in Arkham after the last big breakout. And even tho the nightly patrol wasn't done, Batman send most of his charges that were still somewhat injured home. He, Orphan and Robin would be able to handle the rest.
They had stopped some muggings and one break-in by the time patrol officially ended. His children made their way back to the manor on their bikes, while the Bat made one last round through the docks.
He had a feeling of foreboding, not necessarily a bad feeling, but he was cautious. Even if Cassandra and Damian weren't hurt that badly, he still wanted them home. He wasn't entirely sure why, but he didn't had much time to think it over.
A swirling green Portal opened in front of him and a figure started to emerge from it. Bruce got into a fighting stance, his eyes trained on the unknown.
The Portal vanished after a young man, almost still a boy, stepped out of it. He had white hair that seemed to sway as if he was under water. Green freckles glowed in the dark, just a little muted in contrast to the vibrant green eyes. The boy - because the longer Bruce looked, the younger the being seemed - floated a few inches in the air. In his hands he held what looked like a type of thermos.
"You are Batman, right?", his voice seemed to echo a bit, even in this open space. Bruce just gave a little nod, still in his fighting stance. Just because the other seemed young, didn't mean he wasn't dangerous.
"Good, good... ahem... So my name is Danny or Phantom or Danny Phantom and I know this might come a bit suddenly, but a friend of mine - well more like my mentor - said that I was on the way for the best possible timeline and I think he really needs someone like you - you know with all those contingency plans - and a different dimension than ours and he is already 3 years in the thermos, well minus the bit he was out for a moment where Clockwork sat his Bodytime a bit back, so that he can have a childhood again, but that was like five minutes max. so that doesn't really count, because ha was also in timeout, so for him it was more like a few seconds, but ahem, what I wanted to ask you Mr. Batman, sir... Would you take my evil self from a different timeline, so that he can have a better childhood and maybe be not evil anymore?", Danny rambled and Batman really wished in this moment to have any of his children here, just to make sure that he did indeed hear correctly.
Even if everything had came out in one breath, the things he could piece together didn't paint the best picture. But it seemed like his brooding had taken to long, because the child folded into himself and started do fidget.
"I understand that you don't want to, you don't know me or Dan or anything about us, but you seemed to be the one most capable of handling him and I looked through so many dimension in the hope to find a good place for him... I can understand why he is like he is, but I will never be able to talk sense into him. His actions are unforgivable, but his timeline doesn't exist anymore, the things he done never happened and he is alone in a dimension that would just remind him of everything that happened if he would life with us... But I can totally just look into some more dimension if you don't want to! It's not your problem and I shouldn't have bothered, sorry!" Phantom started to raise his hand and a green line became visible where his finger cut through the air. If Bruce didn't do anything the being would go with a child that needed his help.
"I want a list with all his abilitis, his weaknesses, his potential triggers, dietary needs, allergies, a way to contact you, your mentor and a third trusted person in case of an emergency and a weekly check in system from your side", Bruce knew his kids would make fun of him when he brought another child home, but someone said he was the best possible guardian for this boy, so he would take him. And if he felt pleased about Danny's surprised and relieved face, than no one needed to know.
"Of course! I think Clockwork gave me a folder with everything!", the boy exclaimed, before he led the riff he started to open close, just to open another one. He seemed to rummage in the small Portal, until he showed him a folder full of papers. This would take a while to go through, but at least the boy was prepared.
#skylers prompts#dcxdp#dcxdp prompt#dpxdc#Dan Phantom#Dan gets adopted by Batman#his kids doesn't know this yet#Damian just lokked away for five minutes and Bruce brings a new sibling to the manor#he will be so disappointed in his father#Danny is a rambling mess#but Bruce learned Teenager a while ago#he thinks he understands most of it#he doesn't#Dan gets deaged#Dan gets a second chance#I have so many WIPs but so little time qwq#Dan as soon as he is out of the thermos: I got adopted by a fucking Billionaire?!#He thinks it is a sick joke#Clockwork is probably laughing at his expand
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