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embrosegraves · 4 months

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𝕎𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕀𝕥 𝔹𝕖 𝕆𝕜𝕒𝕪?

Arthur Leclerc x Reader In which after the reader has an unwanted interaction, Reader’s 6-year-old daughter has a serious talk with Arthur “Would it be okay if I called you dad?”

Warnings/Notes: Google Translated French and Italian. unnamed ex-boyfriend.

You had never imagined ever becoming a teen mum. You hadn’t given any thought to getting pregnant with your boyfriend. There was no need to think about stuff like that, the two of you were only 16. That’s why you were so shocked to find out a month before you turned 17, that you would be having your first child.

Of course, after you eventually got over the shock, you immediately told your boyfriend. H was less than pleased with the situation. He didn’t outright say that he didn’t want it, but the way he treated you afterwards made that pretty clear to you. He was not going to help you. You had sat him down the night before your birthday to talk about what you were going to do. That night, he said that didn’t want to be a parent. That he didn’t want to be your boyfriend any longer.

Most people would become hysterical. Most people would start crying and begging for their partner to stay with them. That they could make it work. But not you. Your response to his words had stunned him.

“If you don’t want to be with me, that’s fine. If you don’t want to be a father, that’s fine too. After today I don’t want you near me or my baby, so once they’re born I want you to sign your rights away.” You were stone-faced with anger when you spoke to him. “No matter what you say or do from here on out, I will have full custody of my child and you will have nothing to do with them. Am I clear?”

He looked almost angry at your words, but he gritted his teeth and agreed to your demands. That was the last night you ever saw him. Either his family had moved away, or he had suddenly stopped frequenting the places you used to go together but whatever the reason you were strangely satisfied that you never ran into him for the remainder of your surprise pregnancy.

Your parents were your biggest supporters throughout the whole ordeal. You could still remember the day your parents found out you were pregnant. It was the day you yourself had found out. Your father had found you in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet lid in shock with tears streaming down your face. He rushed to you, worried out of his mind. Your father’s arms had wrapped around you protectively and your crying got louder as you tried to explain the news to him.

Your mother had come up the stairs when she heard you sobbing hysterically, only to find you clutching to your father as if he had told you he was dying tomorrow. He never loosened his hold on you as he explained to your mother what the issue was. She was equal parts worried and elated. Your mother took no time to join you and your father in the embrace. It had taken you almost an hour to come to terms with what you were about to go through, but knowing that you had your parents’ support and assistance made it all that much easier to deal with.

7 and a half months later, you had given birth to a daughter. That was the first and last day that your ex-boyfriend saw your daughter. You had texted him to come to hospital as you had the paperwork he needed to sign so that he could give his rights away. Being in no state to follow him and make sure that he signed what was necessary, your father had followed and stood opposite to him so he could make sure he wasn’t going to rip up the paperwork.

At some point in your pregnancy, you had expressed to your parents that while he had agreed to sign them away, you were worried that he would try something when the day came. Your father said that he would need a witness in order for the papers to be legal anyway, so he would be there to make sure your ex couldn’t try anything nefarious.

Despite countless nights sat with your parents on the couch in your living room, you still hadn’t come up with a name for your daughter. Your mother’s family hailed from France and your father’s family hailed from Italy, so you wanted something that had both ethnic backgrounds.

As soon as you laid eyes on your baby, after hours of labour, you knew instantly what her name would be.

Colette Vincenza L/n

You were always thankful that she was a well behaved baby, she had only really started acting like the stories you’d heard when she was teething. But once she had all her teeth, she was a kindhearted angel for you and your parents. That’s how she was, even as she continued growing.

When Colette was just over a year old, you had met someone while going about your day in the French markets. The stroller was in front of you as you browsed the stalls. You had been so absorbed in your daughter that you had failed to notice someone walking the opposite direction and had accidentally bumped into them. Because of the impact, the man had spilled some of his hot drink in front of him, and consequently onto your daughter’s stroller. You quickly grabbed Colette out and started to sooth her, as she had been shocked and started to cry. Amidst you trying to sooth your daughter and double check that none of the hot liquid had fallen on her, the man had started apologising profusely.

“It’s alright, really. I should have been more aware of the surroundings.” As you continued to rock Colette, you finally looked up at whoever you had bumped into. He was very handsome, looked to be around your age, and was clearly worried that he had unknowingly hurt the small baby with you.

“No no, it’s my fault as well. I wasn’t paying attention at all. Please let me repay you, I would never forgive myself if I didn’t help you somehow.” He sounded so sincere you couldn’t help but take a bit of pity on him.

“I promise you, you don’t need to do anything. But if it would make you feel better, and if you don’t have anywhere to be right now, you could tag along with me while I finish my shopping.” He didn’t hesitate to agree, feeling bad enough as it was.

Noticing that Colette had calmed down now, you ran your hand down the back of her head and spoke to her as you put her back in the stroller.

“Tu vas bien maintenant Lette, Maman t'a eu.” (You’re okay now, Lette. Mummy’s got you.)

“Tu parles français?” (You speak French?)

You looked at him as you resumed walking through the markets. “Oui. En plus de l'italien et de l'anglais, j'ai parlé français toute ma vie.” (Yes. Along with Italian and English, I have spoken French all my life)

“Abbiamo già due cose in comune.” His smile when he spoke in his mother tongue was gorgeous, but it had nothing on his smile when he spoke Italian. You couldn’t help but grin back at him. (We already have two things in common)

You continued talking with each other and by the end of the day you had learnt two very important things about him. His name was Arthur Leclerc and he was a Formula 2 racing driver for Ferarri’s Driver Academy. Eventually you had noticed it was getting late so you exchanged phone numbers to keep in touch and went back home.

That was almost five years ago and since then, Arthur had taken you on many dates, some alone and some with your daughter. He was there for almost all of her firsts. Her first words, first steps and even her first loose tooth. Eventually he asked if you wanted to be his girlfriend and, though you had hesitated at first, you had become official with him.

Arthur was over at your place playing with Colette when you heard someone knock on your door. You looked at each other confused as you weren’t expecting anyone tonight, your parents would’ve called ahead if they were going to come by. Getting up from your seat, you gave Arthur a kiss and kissed Colette’s head before going to answer your door.

The person standing behind it was very impatient as they kept knocking on the hardwood door.

“Arrivo subito, calmati.” You called as you unlocked the door and opened it. Seeing who it was, you almost closed it straight away if he hadn’t put his foot in the way to stop it. (I’ll be right there, calm down.)

“Cosa stai facendo qui?” You tried to keep your anger in check as you looked at him expectantly. (What are you doing here?)

“You know I don’t speak Spanish.”

“C'était italien, connard. What do you want?” Your patience was wearing thin. (That was Italian, asshole)

“I think you already know.” The bastard had the nerve to smirk when he spoke to you.

“You have no right to her. You signed those damn papers. Even if you hadn’t, you had six years to see her. Why now?”

“I was in the area. Thought I’d stop by.”

“Well, you stopped. Now you can go.” You kicked his foot none too gently and closed the door before he could continue. Locking the door, you turned and walked back to where your boyfriend and daughter were still playing. Taking note of the time, you gently ushered Colette to bed before you and Arthur also began getting ready to sleep.

There was no need to tell Arthur who was at your door, as your house was very open plan so he could hear the entire conversation from the living room. As you both laid down, he held you close and comforted you until you both fell asleep.

The next morning, you woke up before Arthur, seeing as you had to begin working. You were glad that you had started a home business because it meant that you didn’t need to make the commute to work through morning traffic. All you had to do was get dressed and sit down in your home office so you could start answering emails from customers about their packages arriving damaged.

Arthur had slept in a little that morning meaning that he was awoken by Colette climbing into your bed to lay next to him. When she saw he was awake, she nuzzled her face into his neck and he wrapped his arms around her gently.

“Can I talk to you?” She asked him. “Without Maman?”

Arthur was a little worried about what she wanted to talk about, as she hadn’t ever come to speak with him alone.

“But of course, Petit, what’s wrong?”

“I heard Maman talking to that man yesterday, and I know I’m still little and that Maman doesn’t talk about my Papa, but I know that was him.”

Arthur felt entirely out of his depth. He knew Colette was smart, he praised her constantly for it, but he hadn’t expected her to understand what happened the night before.

“Did it bother you that he came here?” Arthur was ready to hunt him down and tell him to never even think about you or Colette ever again.

“Not really. I know he helped Maman make me, but he’s not my real papa. It just made me think about something.”

“And what did you think about, Petit?”

“Would it be okay if I called you Papa? Je vois comment Grand-père rend Grand-mère heureuse, et tu rends Maman heureuse, alors je voulais te demander.” (I see how Grandpa makes Grandma happy, and you make Mummy happy, so I wanted to ask.)

Because the walls inside your home were very thin, you could hear the entire conversation between your daughter and your boyfriend. You were a little shocked at what she said but your heart swelled with more love than you thought possible when Arthur replied.

“I would be honoured for you to call me Papa.”

hehehehehehe I love this so much

The poll was VERY clear that people wanted this asap so here it is!

I hope you enjoyed reading!

likes, replies and reblogs are always appreciated <3

#formula 1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fluff #formula one #formula 1 #arthur leclerc #arthur leclerc imagine #arthur leclerc x reader #al12 #can I still tag as F2 even if he's not racing??#i'll do it anyway #f2 #formula 2 #formula two #formula 2 fic #formula two imagine #i love you all <3 #MUAH <3

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angelgoeslewd · 3 months

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Omegaverse Alpha!Chuuya, Dazai, and Ranpo Headcanons

⚠️ warnings: 18+ concepts and scenarios, Minors DNI! Omegaverse, GN!reader, mentions of heats and ruts, slick, knots, and sexual/explicit scenarios.

[Fyodor and Nikolai here!]

Chuuya

ARE U READY TO BE THE WORLD’S MOST SPOILED OMEGA??? :D ‘CAUSE BABY- YOU ARE!!!

Chuuya knows that he can be very absent in your relationship, both physically, mentally, and emotionally. But that doesn’t stop him from always trying to make up for it!!! Unlike OTHER ALPHAS-

Chuuya is honestly probably the best Alpha you can have. He’s very sweet!! He worships you, he’s caring towards your needs, sympathetic to any issues you have, will absolutely spoil the shit out of you, protective in all the right ways, very stable financially — the list goes on and on. However… it is extremely hard to break down his walls and actually GET to the point where you two are in a committed relationship. Between his trust issues and being a literal executive for the MAFIA- he isn’t the type to fall in love very fast or very easily. He wants to be. He romanticizes love to an extreme; but he cannot bring himself to actually relax and let down his walls in order to experience it. Basically, you gotta fight for this boy, but it is oh so worth it.

I know most people probably think you have to manage dancing around his outbursts and anger issues but honestly? Those are for people who Are Not You™️. You do have to talk him down from crushing the Alphas who mention you in the wrong sort of light to death, however.

They end up dead anyway. Yeah you really kinda have to be morally grey to date this man. And that might be a deal breaker for some. While I see a lot of fics talking him out of the dangerous life of the Port Mafia and having him settle down, I really don’t see that as a viable option. One, I firmly believe that Chuuya sees his place in the Port Mafia as one he’s earned, all by himself, without relying on anyone and proving himself worthy. The emotional ties to his job alone make it hard for him to even consider leaving. Two, even with all the danger, Chuuya prides himself on being able to keep you safe despite all of that. You will never be taken. You will never be used. He keeps you close enough so that you are technically protected, but far enough removed that you cannot be a pawn in this sick twisted game that Mori plays. And… it’s kinda stable for him. For you. A generous income that leaves you leaves you flush and living lavishly beyond your wildest dreams. He can’t give that up. So really, you have to be ok when he ends up having to murder a few people for his job. Not that you would know about it first hand. And he’s never malicious. He has his own moral code that will never be broken.

Heats???? Ruts??? This man will shower you in whatever you want during that time. No matter what, he will always be there for you. Uninterrupted personal time with Chuuya. His Omega always comes first. He is such a generous lover too. He’ll knot you as many times as you wish. He’ll make you breakfast in bed and make sure you hydrate. Loves eating you out until you’re begging for his knot, ass up and face down. Give you all his clothes for the nest you make. He’s so in tune with his Omega that his ruts will line up with your heats very early on in the relationship, so you might want to invest in child-prevention or otherwise both you and him will be looking at parenthood. 😳 He wouldn’t mind that. Considering how long it would take for you to get to that point… but he wouldn’t let you know that.

Dazai

Honestly, I love this man ok? He was my first BSD love and he’ll always have a place in my heart because of that. But my god. He is an absolute horrible Alpha.

Dazai himself is very guarded. He loves to have an air of nonchalance, but that’s all it is. An image. He is a fortress of walls that will never truly come down, unlike Chuuya, who eventually lets you in fully. Considering his past and his experiences, being able to break through a few of those will be a victory. Dazai, on the other hand, needs a partner who is okay with never truly knowing his own desires. A partner who’s ok with always being held at an arm’s length, because Dazai feels like if he loves you too much, something bad will happen.

Not only the emotional distance, but a physical one too. Dazai loves to be touchy, but at home, he also needs time to regenerate his own physical stimulation. It might be strange to some that he seems more affectionate and physical in public, but Dazai wants to trust you. He wants to feel comfortable enough to not always be what he feels like he should be. He might come off as cold or even uncaring, but he just needs time, no matter how much he loves you. And trust me, it will pay off.

And we also have to consider his job. Unlike Chuuya, who’s rather stable in his self-image and work life, Dazai almost is like Ranpo in a sense, where he feels like something bad will happen if he’s not available to ADA at every second of the day. Unlike Ranpo, Dazai cannot shirk these feelings or his duty, even though he basically goes in and does absolutely nothing all day. Mentally, he’s there. Thinking up solutions and plans without speaking a word of it. He needs to be there to get ahead, to minimize casualties, no matter how much Kunikida helps out. There will be many times you spend a heat alone, or Dazai will have to rush out to go to work during one of them.

Buttttt that’s not to say he’s a selfish lover. He is, in fact, a very, very good one. Not only through experience, but in creating a sort of intimacy that makes you feel like he’s all there. Even if he isn’t. Which, again, is sort of shady of him. 🙄 But honestly? His dirty talk is top notch. During the heats that he goes to work, he’ll talk you through the time that he isn’t there. Much to your embarrassment.

Dazai’s favorite thing is to feel you clench around his knot. He loves making you so horny that all you can do is beg him to knot you and scream his name or his title. It’s a moment that he can just forget everything, his past, his current situation, and just be with you. He loves being your Alpha and does wish he could be a better one, but that’s just not him. 100% keeps a pair of your slick stained panties in his pocket. Disgusting man.

His ruts will take a while to line up with yours. It’s a combination of both problems — physical and emotional distance. Feeling like he can even sort of trust you will cure that. He’s super restrained during his ruts though. Even if you’re in a long relationship, the only way you can notice is by his heightened scent, which he loves to blockers to suppress, because he’s stupid like that and feels like it interferes with his investigations (yes and no. it’s not very helpful if someone can smell you a mile away, but it’s also because Dazai likes to keep an air of mystery AND distance between any sort of work and personal life, in his own strange way. Stops taking them if it helps create a connection he can use) and the fact he just randomly wants to knot you at all times of the day. He doesn’t even seem that serious about it though — just like “oh! popped a knot in you! sorry!” and does that 10 more times until you catch on.

“Dazai… are you in rut???” “…yeah.” absolutely ridiculous mind game for no reason other than it’s Dazai.

Seriously, if this man is your Alpha, I’m sorry. He makes you jealous accidentally a lot because he has Omegas fawning over him, that he gives crumbles of attention for validation, but his secretly super possessive and HATES when it happens to you. Seriously. One Alpha hits on you and suddenly you’re covered in hickies and claim marks, rubbed so hard with his scent it almost stinks and you can’t get it out with ANY SORT of laundry detergent.

Ranpo

again, if this man is your Alpha, I’m sorry. I am actually less sorry than if Dazai is your Alpha but I’m still sorry.

Ranpo is childish. He has absolutely 0 clue on how to be a proper Alpha, despite Fukuzawa trying to teach him, but unlike someone like Kunikida or Sigma, has probably little to no desire to learn. That isn’t entirely true, especially with how earnest Ranpo is to want to learn with you, but honestly, he gives up very quickly.

He can be very selfish with his pleasure, but that’s mostly to your gain, to be honest. At least you have 0 emotional hangups when it comes to Ranpo. 🤷‍♀️ that’s all I can say.

He also has 0 embarrassment. He will fully scent you, partially undressing you to get to what he wants, like a breastfeeding CHILD, in the middle of the office. If you smack him away, he’ll be fully confused. Like “whaaaaat? I’m your Alpha. I’m supposed to do this.” NOT HERE, IDIOT.

Mouths your neck and your scent gland whenever too. Like just leans over in meetings to do so. You, as his Omega, almost have to leash him, your Alpha. It’s a bit of an unusual dynamic, but fits perfectly to Ranpo.

He will end up growing up a bit when he enters a relationship with you; however, that will take a lot of time. Your relationship probably starts off really casually too. Ranpo will most likely just offhandedly ask you on an outing, then he’s considering you his significant other, his omega, without it ever truly being discussed. “It wasn’t obvious? Why would I ask you out if I didn’t want to be with you?” Please teach him how to properly enter a relationship. Or at least discuss with him the standards of dating. Fukuzawa will give you a bonus. Just please.

Now, it’s very widely accepted that Ranpo is autistic/asperger’s syndrome, and I headcanon him as that as well so a little on that from another Aspie!!! Ranpo doesn’t always catch on to what is and isn’t socially acceptable. He has a tendency to sometimes be sexual in times that aren’t always the best, but if you tell him nicely, he’ll understand and back down. Usually with a nod and taking mental notes. You need to be very verbal with this man because he will not catch on in any sort of way. If you want a gift, ask him for it! If you want time alone, ask him. Seriously. You need to tell him or he’ll just keep doing his little routine.

He has stimulation problems. You might need to carry around headphones or some sort of fidget toy because he sometimes gets overwhelmed in public by all the information he’s taking in. He’s used to it, but that doesn’t make it better. If you let him sit on the couch with a weighted blanket and just sit with him in silence on the other side, he will eventually jump your ass after a while and cuddle up under your arm. He will probably not leave your side for the rest of the day, refusing to talk to anyone but you.

His libido is finicky, it jumps between hyper sexuality and almost completely disappearing, even if he wants to pleasure you. His ruts show that. Unlike most Alphas, they aren’t always timely, and show up randomly. It makes it hard for your heats to line up with his ruts. They rarely line up, and sometimes when you’re in heat Ranpo is completely disinterested and would rather be working on a case. Early on, he most likely will ignore you and them, not out of animosity or a lack of care, but just because he’s really not used to being in a relationship. If you give it time and practice, certainly after expressing your need, Ranpo will take care of you through them. Whether it’s eating you out or knotting you properly. He can finger you with one hand while working on his phone or laptop with the other, a skill he didn’t even know he had.

His ruts on the other hand… he’s very needy. You will have to call out of work for a week or two. He wants to be touching you at all times. Don’t expect to leave the bed at all. Actually, just plan on being on his knot the whole time. If you have to get up, even for a drink of water, expect him to be right there behind you, arms clasped around your waist, begging for you to come back to bed. His scent gets so heavy. He just wants to be comfortable and the only way he feels comfortable is with you. You might need additional call out days for how weak your legs will be afterwards.

Ranpo is apologetic though and will bring you painkillers or a heating pad. You probably could talk him into a massage every now and then. He knows how much you give to him, and struggles with sometimes feeling like your relationship is one sided. It is, in a way, but Ranpo gives back tenfold with how absolutely pure his love is for you. He’s loyal and will never entertain any sort of attention from any other Omega. He shares all his snacks and candy with you and tries to show you his love in little ways, like remembering your favorite flavors or something you mentioned you liked.

Ranpo isn’t the best Alpha, but he is a good soul. He tries and though he has his struggles, he really is there for his (and your!) best interests at heart.

Praise him. Praise him during his rut and you will be there for another week. It drives it crazy and ends up lengthening it for an extended amount of time.

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd dazai #bsd dazai osamu #bsd chuuya #bsd chuuya nakahara #bsd ranpo #bsd ranpo edogawa #bsd nsft #dazai x you #chuuya x you #ranpo x you #🍩 of bsd #dazai x reader #chuuya x reader #ranpo x reader #angelic songs #omegaverse!bsd

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confused-wanderer · 1 year

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Dick and Jason as Captain Holt and Jake in that one scene where Holt shows him pictures of him hula hopping and then whispering “No one will believe you” as a parallel to Dicks reputation.

Like all the batfam, especially Jason and the batsiblings, like Tim and Damian are always treated with a mixture of protection and respect, but borderline smothering them with safety.

Like if they’re going on a mission with the justice league, the league would take their time to try and talk about the dangers of the mission and how to avoid getting hurt, and in battle the members are always anxiously hovering over them from a distance.

When the OG Titans take Tim for a mission and it goes south there’s atleast two members trying to help him, even if it’s very evident he doesn’t need it, and they’re all trying to keep him safe. Or when Damian was supposed to go on a stakeout with Superman and the guy was fucking sweating.

Jason hears all his siblings complain about this, blaming everyone’s fear of Batman’s wrath if one of his family members got injured and he is so conflicted if he should tell them the truth.

Because the reason is actually Dick.

Since none of the batfam was around during Boy Wonders original days, no one knows how truly unhinged Dick was.

Dick is very protective of family and people he loves. He may be smiling and happy, but the older superheroes know just how much shit he’s blown up. And as the years went by, they know he just got better at getting away with stuff. Hands down he is chaos incarnate, and his anger issues are a thing no one talks about because those who have witnessed it are no longer with us.

And his reputation hasn’t changed a bit. It stills puts the fear of God in every superhero alive because they do not want to deal with a pissed off Nightwing if one of his siblings got hurt.

#nightwing #dick Grayson #batman #batfamily #batbros #Timothy drake #Tim drake #red robin #dick Grayson robin #red hood #Jason todd #Damian wayne #robin #superman #Clark kent #justice league #batfam headcanons

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1d1195 · 24 days

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Ding - Round 3

Read Ding here | ~6.5k words

Warnings: scummy man appearance, angst involving the frustration/grief/sadness of the last part regarding her shitty experience with said scummy man, fluff

Summary: Harry wants to know what happened to Cupcake. She really isn't sure she wants to tell him. Until she has to.

From me: NEW DIVIDER BY @babegoals THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR CREATIVITY AND SUPPORT AND JUST EXISTING 💕

Harry was mad.

Fuming. He had thought about nothing else but seeing her for the last two months and now that he had seen her, he was pissed to see her at his self-defense class. He asked her the same question about ten times throughout the instruction. He was furious and irritated that everyone else needed his help (even though it was literally what he was being paid for) when all he wanted was to talk to her.

He was all for helping women feel empowered. But he was mad she needed it. He knew she was feisty. The fact that she was there said a lot in its own right. The way she bantered with him until three in the morning texting him the other night made him smile more than he could describe. It was flirty and sweet. But always had him guessing if she would suddenly stop messaging for one reason or another.

Someone like her needed someone—maybe even someone like Harry—to make sure nothing bad ever happened to her. And he knew. He knew why women went to self-defense classes. He had been teaching these classes since before he owned his own gym.

He knew.

"Why are y’here, Cupcake?" He asked gruffly. The other women nearby were all but forgotten. One was mid-sentence, asking to clarify something Louis had said. Harry was practically rude to just ignore her question in favor of his own.

“Umm... for self-defense,” she muttered trying to focus on Louis’ answer.

Harry didn’t want her banter right now. (As cute as it was to him, despite his irritation.) “Right. But usually everyone has a story that... convinces themselves t’sign up. So what’s your story?” He repeated.

He watched the way her cheeks warmed at his assessment, and she folded her arms protectively in front of her. Guarding herself. “That’s kind of personal, Harry.”

Once Harry’s anger took hold, it was hard to backtrack. “Listen,” he shook his head. The annoyance that clouded his eyes and covered his face was so obvious, she felt the slightest bit bad about interrupting his lesson with her own issues. “M’not good at this kind of thing, Cupcake. Being subtle. I punch people for a minimal living and work the rest of m’time here, teaching people how t’punch.”

Part of her wanted to break down and tell him. Because as much as she was willing to do this on her own, she was so scared. That nervousness made her feel even weaker, and she wanted to tell Harry, she realized. She wanted someone to know and to help her because this wasn’t something she wanted to deal with on her own—it was too much.

But she couldn’t do it right in the middle of a self-defense lesson, surrounded by strangers. “I’m here to learn how to punch,” her voice was even and final.

His nostrils flared and he stalked back to the front of the room, a trail of anger coming off him as he did. He wasn’t going to get anywhere with her.

The remainder of the lesson went by without incident on Harry’s part. He watched her the entire time. The way she flinched when they practiced moves made him nauseous. But he couldn’t help but notice how good her stances were. Almost natural. “Hey, love,” Louis smiled at her kindly as he geared up to practice more tactile moves. “You liked his match so much you wanted to try on your own?” He asked.

She smiled, but it didn’t fully reach her eyes. “Something like that.”

“It’s good skills to have,” he assured her gently, because even though Harry’s infatuation annoyed him at the time, he knew Harry liked her. A lot. Knew just as well as Harry did why women signed up for a self-defense class. “You have a very natural stance,” he noted. “We should get you in the ring,” he winked at her.

She laughed lightly. “I don’t even know how to make a fist,” she snorted.

Louis chuckled giving her a gentle shoulder squeeze and moved onto the next person.

Harry moved in front of her next and he looked at her footing. Aligned near perfectly and practiced as if she had been doing it her whole life. He was still steaming with anger. It rolled off him and demanded to be felt—and she felt every bit of it. “S’like you’ve done this before,” he muttered.

“I haven’t,” she answered. “I’m just good at following directions. Like a recipe, you know?”

He was staring at her feet and trailed up to her hand where he carefully took hold of her delicate fingers. Instantly, it felt like her whole arm was made of jelly. Her heart took off about the speed of an airplane and she was lucky she could hear anything over the sound of it. Harry touching her skin made her feel faint. Carefully, he bent her fingers and tucked her thumb below the flat of her knuckles. It felt so intimate it seemed wrong to be doing this in a class put on for the public. Holding her wrist, he brought her fist to his cheek and tapped it against his skin a few times. “Like that,” he murmured.

She wanted to be cute and smile. Say something like, I’ll keep that in mind for strangers in dark parking lots when I ding their car. But instead, she was overcome with gratitude for the knowledge and a bit of awe. She was speechless without meaning to be. He released her wrist, and she wanted nothing more than to grab his hand again and never let go. “Thank you,” she whispered. He nodded sullenly.

Harry felt defeated—something he didn’t enjoy at all. Rarely did he feel it, but he wished he felt defeated after a match more so than he did right then. All he could do was walk away from her and finish the lesson without chatting with her again.

In hindsight, confronting her in the middle of a self-defense lesson wasn’t his wisest choice. The following morning, he had a renewed spirit and was once more determined to chat with her and figure out what made her join a self-defense class.

What he hadn’t anticipated was how stubborn she could be. He should have known but he was willing to dig his heels in as long as she was. Harry went to the bakery morning, noon, and night—literally—trying to figure out her schedule. “Again?” The girl behind the counter asked suspiciously when they returned at four in the afternoon on the third day of waiting. She had been there all day and hadn’t said anything up until their third arrival.

Niall shook his head and sighed. “Sorry, darling. He’s being super creepy, yeah?” Niall elbowed him with irritation. They sat at a table as they had the last few days. They didn’t stay long, only fifteen minutes to half an hour. (And they only stayed half an hour once because Niall had to get one of the cronuts that he had been pining for since he saw them.)

Harry was looking at their text message thread. The last message was from him. Are you working now? C’mon, Cupcake, you’re killing me here :(

It went unanswered since yesterday afternoon.

“He’s trying to talk to Miss Cupcake,” Niall rolled his eyes. He missed the back and forth between the girl behind the counter. “But I think he’s being a bit ridiculous.”

“Oh, were you her bad date?” She frowned.

Harry was still looking at his phone, checking his schedules, and making sure he didn’t miss anything in his email or messages from his mum or sister. But the moment the girl behind the counter spoke, his head snapped up to meet her gaze.

“What bad date?” He asked, his voice low, menacing.

The girl behind the counter blanched. Feeling bad she revealed something she obviously wasn’t supposed to and quite honestly, if he was her bad date, that was a horrible thing to announce. It was a reflex. “I don’t know, actually,” she tried to backtrack. “I don’t know why I said that out loud.”

“We won’t tell, darling,” Niall assured her. “Do you know when Miss Cupcake works, it would save Harry—and you—a lot of trouble.”

“OH!” She shook her head and went around to the front of the counter. Her eyes widened. “You’re Harry. Context clues, I didn’t recognize you without gloves,” she smiled excitedly. “Thank goodness, I almost closed this place down.”

Harry turned to the girl again feeling a warmth pass over him at the idea that she talked about him to her friend. “Oh brother, so she does like Harry?” Niall grumbled.

“I’m Maeve,” she announced.

“Maeve,” Harry stood up and held his hand out to her. “Nice to meet you.”

“You have a very cute niece.”

Now Harry really couldn’t help but smile because that little girl was practically his own pride and joy. And she was very cute. Plus, it meant she really was talking about Harry to her friend and that had to mean something. “Thank you, she’s perfect,” he agreed. But then he refocused on why he was haunting the bakery. “Does she not work during the day?”

“She pops in,” Maeve shrugged and fiddled with the cupcake display. He noted there was a raspberry filled one on the top tier. He recognized that cake and frosting pair anywhere. “But she’s been mostly coming in after close,” she admitted. “She’s been a little...stingy with details about everything. She gets like this sometimes. Compartmentalizes things so she can deal with it when she needs to,” Maeve bit her lip. “She’s visiting her dad right now.”

Harry realized there was very little he really knew about her. Most of their chatting had surrounded the bakery, boxing, and Harry’s niece. There was a little bit of information about their education and some books and hobbies they liked. But there wasn’t a huge depth of knowledge of her family.

“Oh,” Harry felt defeated again. “Uh... I guess we’ll go then,” he mumbled. “Try later.”

Maeve sighed. “She really likes you, Harry. Really,” she promised with a sad smile. “She’s just...a little stubborn and careful with her heart.”

Harry nodded. “Got it,” he could handle that.

She parked as close as she could to the bakery in the parking lot. Thinking about all the steps and stances that Louis and Harry had told her during her class. She took a deep breath and opened her car door. As she went to the back of her car to grab supplies from her trunk, she noticed a plethora of other cars parked in the lot—most people were probably at the restaurant near the waterfront. But there was no way she could miss the car she had accidentally dinged with her door just a few spaces down and across the row from her.

Once more, her gaze met the intense green gaze in the driver’s seat. She sighed knowing there was no escaping this talk anymore. Harry put a bookmark in the novel he was reading while waiting and set it on the passenger seat beside him. He locked his car and hurried to her side, taking the heavy bags of flour and sugar she bought to tide her over until the delivery came to the bakery in the morning. He didn’t speak to her as they walked to the storefront. She was overwhelmingly aware, once more, how safe she felt with Harry beside her in the nearly deserted parking lot. She unlocked the front and held the door open for Harry to enter. “Were you waiting long?” She asked.

He shrugged, putting the supplies on his now regular table while she fiddled with the display case and cupcake display once more. The raspberry one was missing from the top and she went behind the counter to get another. Harry closed the door and locked it, so she was safe inside. It was dark, the only light was a low soft glow coming from the case of treats. It had the glow of a candle, and he wondered if there was a way to keep it that way during the day because it was so warm it made him want one of everything that was in the display. “Yes,” he nodded. “S’okay.”

That felt worse. If he was willing to admit it, it meant he was there a while.

“I’m sorry,” her cheeks felt warm. “I should have just told you when I was working,” she was willing to admit when she was wrong. Harry watched in fascination as she placed the raspberry filled cupcake on top. He wondered if it had always been the one she put on top. He would have imagined the chocolate ganache one was a fan favorite, or the vanilla sprinkles one with the little toothpick and label of A Pinch of Sprinkles on it.

He shrugged again, nearly indifferent. “S’okay,” he repeated. “Read most of my book.”

“Is it a good read?” She asked and grabbed the bag of flour Harry had settled on the table and started for the back. He grabbed the bag of sugar and followed behind her.

He nodded. “Yeah...it’s,” he sighed. “S’a little darker than I expected,” he shrugged. “Was hoping for something lighter.”

“I only read rom-coms in book form,” she smiled. “It’s very light reading, but probably not what you want.”

“Rom-coms?” He repeated. She nodded. “Y’don’t strike me as a rom-com kind of girl.”

“No?”

“Y’seem more like a film noir or suspense.”

“I’ve had enough suspense for a while,” she muttered and turned to her ovens to preheat. Harry placed the sugar beside the flour bag and sat in the same chair he sat in when he fell asleep a couple months prior. He watched her in the same way he had before as she flittered around the kitchen, humming to herself as she worked. “How’s the baby?” She asked.

They were ignoring the elephant in the room, it seemed. But it was the first time he’d seen her since the self-defense lesson. In between his visits to the bakery (his stalking grounds, as Niall was calling it) he had been splitting his time between training, teaching, and ensuring Driven, his gym, was working as expected. He had to call an electrician because the lights in the men’s bathroom kept going out despite the fact, he had already replaced the circuit and lightbulbs a handful of times. But he had gone to see Gemma and his niece two days prior to get his fix of the sweet little girl who made him feel so much better about all the frustration he felt about his favorite Cupcake.

He couldn’t help but smile. “Perfect.”

She grinned back and nodded. “Good, and your sister?”

“Good, thanks for asking,” he thought that was polite of her—he always noticed when people asked about his sister. It wasn’t often. Once the baby was there, it was like they forgot about the mum.

“Does your mom live nearby?” She asked.

“Yeah, especially with the baby. Mum sold her house the moment she found out Gem was pregnant.”

She laughed. “That’s sweet. You’re all close?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Mum’s m’hero,” his voice was filled with admiration so thick it made her feel wobbly on her feet. She wished she had that kind of admiration for her mother. “How ‘bout you? Maeve said y’were visiting your dad? He lives nearby?”

She nodded, guarded. “I feel the way about my dad, the way you feel about your mom,” she explained. There was a pause in conversation that seemed to stretch farther than it needed to. Maybe he was trying to get her to break first. Perhaps she did. “You talked to Maeve?”

He looked at her, tapping his fingers lightly on the table. “Didn’t leave me many options, Cupcake,” he reminded her.

She swallowed thickly, nodded. “That’s fair,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Can you please tell me?”

She shook her head. Harry felt so agitated, so defeated. “Not yet,” the bit of hope creeped back in. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she admitted, her voice cracking slightly. She swallowed the lump of emotion in her throat and turned away from him. “Sorry,” she sniffled. His heart broke. Quickly, he realized it wasn’t her wanting to hide it from him. It was painful to watch that frustration fall on her face.

“Oh, kitten,” he frowned. He stood quickly and made it to her side. He put a hand on her shoulder comfortingly not wanting to touch more than she wanted or needed in that moment. His imagination could only guess what went wrong on her date and it was painful to think about for him. He wanted to comfort her, but it had to be at her pace.

At once she melted into his touch. She turned quickly, almost reflexively into his embrace. Her face pressed against his shoulder, her arms wrapped up around his back, and she inhaled shakily. It felt awful to see her sad, feel the anxiety coming off her in waves. But Harry was grateful to hold her so close to him. “M’here, Cupcake,” he promised. She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, nodded against him.

Harry could live with ‘not yet.’ For now.

Over the next week, they went back to texting throughout the day and chatting well beyond bedtime on the nights she wasn’t at the bakery. Additionally, Harry walked beside her from her car to the bakery when she arrived and back through the dark parking lot. Not once did he ask her what went wrong with her date even though it was killing him. She wasn’t budging. She knew Harry was waiting for more details, but she couldn’t. It hurt and she didn’t want to think about it—even if she actually did want to tell him. It was overwhelmingly kind that Harry appeared beside her car—especially at night.

“I’m still really sorry about Clay,” she frowned. Harry didn’t park far away from her like he did the other night. But she was very mindful of her opening the door and not bumping into his car.

“S’okay,” he smiled and rubbed his fingers on the little indent. “Reminds me of you,” he winked at her.

Her heart fluttered and she looked away briefly before smiling back at him. “Like you need more reminders of me,” she murmured.

“Can never have enough, Cupcake,” he assured her. “Can I kiss y’goodnight?” He asked on the third night he walked her though the dark parking lot. Her heart literally skipped a beat. Speechless. He tapped his cheek. “Jus’ the cheek, kitten. Need a proper date before I really kiss you,” he acknowledged and smiled shyly at her. That boyish grin that made her weak in the knees. Breathlessly she nodded. His lips swept across her cheek. It was brief and soft. Like a piece of her hair had brushed over her face and tickled her skin. “Thank you,” he grinned. “Been dying t’do that,” he admitted and once more tucked her safely in her car.

Harry mentioned it only twice more. He never pressed or demanded she reveal the facts of her bad date. It was more of—what he hoped was—a gentle reminder. He was waiting for more information. All he wanted was to assuage her worries and fears. She attended the second class for her self-defense lessons (dropping off a box of blueberry scones at the front desk had everyone in the class asking if they could go after the lesson to pick out their own sweet treats). Harry continued to boil with anger just thinking about her using the moves he and Louis taught her. But it was obvious he was much less angry than the previous week. More so, his anger didn’t extend to her. He was mad, but he understood her choice to keep it to herself.

Louis was going over demonstrations using Harry as the attacker. Everyone watched with rapt attention. “Your goal is to get away,” it was repeated about a hundred times and Harry had the hardest time watching her every time it was repeated. Each time it was said, she flinched. He wasn’t sure she knew it or not—it was a reflex. But she did get away. It terrified her still.

Harry couldn’t help but notice she wasn’t pushing him away. Every night, she thanked him profusely for coming to the bakery and walking her to and from the car. She could see his anger growing beneath the surface. He wanted to know. She was trying so hard to brush it off. It wasn’t a big deal. Now she had two classes under her belt, and she promised herself she would never be in such a vulnerable position again.

“Can I watch you at work?” She asked randomly. It was a morning shift this time. She was covered in flour, and she had frosting streaked in her hair leftover from when she put it up after icing four dozen cupcakes. Harry didn��t think she could look cuter if she tried.

“Watch me?” He repeated.

“Not this again,” she smirked.

He chuckled. “Y’want to watch me train?” He repeated anyway.

She shrugged. “You always watch me bake and stuff.”

“You’ve attended the class, Cupcake. S’pretty much the same thing,” he reminded her.

He noted her cheeks turned pink. “Um...if you don’t want me to hang around then—”

Harry nearly gasped. “Oh, no. No way, kitten. I want y’around. I promise,” he assured her. “Jus’ don’t want you t’be bored.”

“I won’t be,” she shook her head.

That was how she ended up sitting beside the ring, Louis padded and guarded while Harry punched and punched and punched for over an hour. His breath was heaving, and his body was slick with sweat. She watched intently examining his form and his moves like she would one day repeat them.

When he came for water at the end of his training session, he was heavy breathing and smiling at her. He struggled to get the towel he had from his bag beside her with his gloves on. “Bored?” He asked.

“Not even a little,” she assured him, grabbing the little towel and swiping it across his forehead. It felt intimate and made Harry feel warm all throughout his body. “Can I try?” She asked with an impish smile.

He chuckled and nodded. “Come on,” he held the ropes open for her to enter the ring. She wasn’t wearing the right shoes or equipment. Louis rolled his eyes discreetly at Harry and held the pads out for her to hit. “Make the fist I showed you,” she did for both hands. “S’all the balance in your legs,” he promised. “No balance, no punch, no follow-through. Punch through the pad,” he explained and guided her hand to the pad slowly so she could see how it would look and feel to go through it.

“Pretend it’s Harry,” Louis suggested. “That’s what I do.”

She giggled. “I don’t think I could throw a punch if I thought it was Harry,” she admitted and gave her best attempt. It was honestly exhausting. She only threw a dozen or so punches and was breathless as she answered Louis.

“You’ll get there,” he assured her.

Harry scowled at him. “Take the pads off.”

“No, you lunatic.”

“Coward.”

She giggled, thanked Louis, and twisted herself out of the ring again. “That was fun,” she told him. “I can see why you like it. Plus, you’re really good at it.”

Harry was staring at her, the way that sent all the butterflies in the world directly to her stomach and began to flutter as if they were trying to escape. His gaze was firm but gentle, his eyes almost glowing somehow as he looked her over. “Please tell me, Cupcake. I want t’help,” his voice was quiet, begging ever so gently.

She looked at the floor, their shoes were nearly toe-to-toe. “I can’t,” she whispered back.

He nodded, defeat did not come easy to him, and she knew that. “I have t’shower, do some office stuff. Get ready for some lessons and classes,” he told her, his voice the slightest bit disappointed.

“Want me to watch you in the shower too?” She asked hoping to alleviate the mood. It worked, his smile returned to his pretty lips, and he chuckled.

“Hell yes, Cupcake,” he shook his head at her cuteness. “Maybe next time. Not here,” he winked.

Even though it was her that was forward it still made her blush. Plus, joke or not, she agreed here was not a good idea. “I have to do some errands anyway,” she admitted.

“I’ll walk you t’your car,” but she knew he would. It was like a safety blanket being wrapped around her.

She really liked it.

After her third self-defense lesson she was feeling more confident. She even showed Maeve some of her moves in the back kitchen. Shadowboxing the same way that she saw Harry do to Louis the night she met him. “I don’t know who thought it was a good idea to give the Queen of Sugar boxing lessons,” Maeve rolled her eyes.

Honestly, she was feeling better. More confident. Plus, she was enjoying her not-so-date-dates with Harry. There was one night when Harry wasn’t around, and she realized she missed him so much. Not only because the dark parking lot seemed more foreboding but because his presence made her happy. Happier than she had been in a really long time. It felt undeserving to be so happy but it wasn’t something she thought about when he was actually there. I missed you.

Oh? 😍

Sorry, I know that’s...

A lot...

I miss you all the time, Cupcake. Think about you all day.

The message made her warm and she wished she could explain how simple it seemed to just have Harry fit in her life. They were busy people, but he always managed to come by and see her. She enjoyed watching him train or sitting with Sarah at the front desk and chatting while he taught classes and lessons. Maeve teased her every time he arrived and she wasn’t there. Can’t you just give him your schedule? The poor guy is going to have to train twice as hard to get rid of the extra cupcake weight.

I like to keep him guessing a little 😉

Today, she was up front on her own—one of her employees called out sick and she didn’t mind in the slightest. Working up front was one of her favorite tasks. Interacting with customers and sharing her gift was something she enjoyed thoroughly. Her other coworker was out back, working on inventory and prepping the bagels for her monthly bagel sale.

Ding.

The bell attached to the front door signaled whenever customers arrived or departed. It was a busy morning. So busy that it took her a minute to realize Harry was sitting with Niall at one of the tables. Niall gave her a wave as she finally got caught in his gaze. She waved back, smiling brightly and paused the customers that were at the counter while she ran to the back and then to the table as quickly as she could. She pecked Harry on the cheek without thinking and deposited a raspberry filled cupcake and a personal sized loaf of Irish soda bread.

Harry felt as gooey as the filling on the inside of his cupcake. Her soft little kiss made him crazier for her. Watching her made him happy. Being around her made him happy. Happier than the little kid that was bullied could have dreamed.

Niall was making noises that would have embarrassed the porn industry while eating his bread. Harry snorted at him, tried to steal a piece, only for Niall to slap his hand away. “Eat your cupcake,” he nearly snarled.

“She could make more, m’sure.”

Niall shook his head stuffing his face of the treat made specially for him.

Harry liked watching her. He wondered if it was the same way she felt when she watched him. People obviously fell in love with her the moment they spoke to her. Unironically, she was so sweet. Of course she was. It was like she was a sprinkles-fairy. This ethereal being that passed out sweet treats to everyone.

Ding.

With her back turned to get another bag, she didn’t notice the influx of new customers. When she turned back, her heart leapt to her throat. She was lucky she didn’t drop the dozen cookies she was packaging.

“Shit,” she whispered mostly to herself. He hadn’t seen her yet. Fortunately, it was crowded enough to hide behind her wall of customers. All the progress she had made, the classes thus far, all seemed for naught at that moment. Her gaze darted to Harry and Niall. They were unaware of the turmoil she was facing while she packaged treats for the next customer. Her stomach churned uneasily.

If Harry just looked at her, she knew he would know. “Hey Lexi!” She called toward the back room. But Harry was chatting with Niall. Niall was focused on his soda bread. Neither of them noticed the anxiety that swept over her. Lexi doesn’t answer at first. Making her more anxious and scared. It shouldn’t be that way. He shouldn’t ruin the one place she loved most.

Niall now had crumbs on his cheeks, but his head tilted curiously in the direction of her main display. “Harry, something’s wrong,” Niall’s voice was quiet.

Harry’s gaze snapped up defensively. Sure enough, her whole demeanor had changed. Harry could see it. Her smile was tight, and her eyes darted toward the door and the customer in front of her more times in ten seconds than Harry could ever begin to count. Harry wanted to kick himself. How long had she looked like that?

After an eternity, Lexi finally appeared. She mumbled something to her employee and headed to the back kitchen. Not even a glance in Harry’s direction. Without fanfare, without permission, Harry marched his way into the back almost as soon as she left his view.

“Excuse me,” Lexi said. “Hey, that’s employee—”

“He’s fine, Lexi,” she answered quietly.

Harry found her in the kitchen, hand clutching the front collar of her shirt, her eyes lit with anxiety while she paced back and forth. “Is he here?” He asked lowly, while she moved quickly across the kitchen.

She tried to remember the last time she felt safe. It was her dad, right? Her dad before...before everything. Before she moved her shop here. Before she uprooted her life.

But there were those brief moments where she was overcome with how safe she felt in Harry’s presence. Walking to his fight for the first time. Each time he walked her to her car. How his hand felt when he pressed her fingers into a fist.

She nodded, her eyes watering.

He spun almost immediately to do who knows what. He didn’t know and she certainly didn’t know.

“No, don’t leave me!” She practically shouted before he could hardly take a step further. She started to follow him but he stopped at the sound of despair in her voice.

Harry groaned lowly; it came out nearly as a growl. He turned back to her immediately as if it pained him. “M’never leaving you,” his eyes were so dark and desperate—her whole body felt heavy at the seriousness of his words. Breathless again. “Please don’t ask me that,” his eyes darted back toward the front of the bakery.

“Harry, please,” she whispered.

His hands were already balled into fists. He shook his head. “Cupcake,” he grumbled. It was such an oxymoron in itself. Harry was calling her one of the sweetest things in the world and it sounded downright terrifying.

“Please, Harry,” she begged, grabbing one of his closed fists. “I need you,” she whispered.

Groaning again, he rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “Fine,” he snapped.

She felt bad making him stay. She knew she was forcing his hand, but she was scared. To soften the blow, she threw herself at him. Arms around his neck, face buried in his shirt. She sighed with relief with the feel of him: solid, warm, protective against her body. Harry was safe. He proved that already and she still hardly knew him. It wasn’t hard. It shouldn’t have been hard for her date to make her feel safe.

Harry was momentarily shocked before he returned the hug, one arm looped around her back, the other cupping the back of her head. It was like the antidote to an disease she didn’t know she had. Another loud sigh escaped her. Like the feeling of Harry was cause for another wave of relief.

“What did he do?” He mumbled into her hair. She ignored him and scrunched her eyes shut. “Please, Cupcake,” he begged. She realized she wanted to tell Harry.

“I’m so embarrassed,” she whispered. “I don’t even know why I went out with him...I had met you and—”

“Doesn’t matter, kitten,” he shook his head. “He doesn’t get t’make y’feel unsafe,” he reminded her.

“It was such bad judgment.”

He shook his head again. “No, Cupcake. He doesn’t get t’make y’feel that way. S’not you. S’not asking a lot t’feel safe on a date. S’not even the bare minimum. Y’don’t have poor judgment. Your judgment got y’out of there that night. S’why y’signed up for classes and—”

It poured out of her at that moment. She told him everything. In the middle of the story, she tried to downplay it sensing the way his body tightened around her with every word. Explained why she signed up for the self-defense class. Every detail and emotion she felt for the last few weeks. How scared she was that very night. Why she requested Harry and chatted with him until three in the morning. How he made her feel better when she didn’t think she could. How safe she felt around him in general.

At the end, Harry pulled away from her.

Her heart felt heavy. Now he wouldn’t like her. She was broken and hurt. Harry didn’t want to be a bodyguard, nor should he have to be. “I need t’go to the gym,” he started toward the front, and she thought that was it. It was the last she would see of him. He was too overwhelmed with how stupid she was. This wasn’t what he wanted. Someone who couldn’t defend herself or be smart enough to see the signs earlier.

“Harry, I’m sorry—” She managed to croak with tears thick in her voice and vision. Right as he reached the threshold back to the front of the bakery. He was shaking. Every inch of him. She wondered how he wasn’t a blur from how much he shook. In the moment it took for the apology to form in her mouth, he was back in front of her.

He grabbed her firmly but still softly by the chin, held her sweet face between his palms. Gazed into her eyes and shook his head slowly. His eye contact was overwhelming but still felt so good. “You are to never. Ever. Apologize.” Her eyes welled with more tears. She couldn’t do anything but nod at him. Her heart felt so heavy and broken. But Harry was looking at her. Taking in every inch of her face and he sighed. “M’sorry, Cupcake; m'angry. But s'not something you need t'apologize for. Y'didn't do anything wrong. M'jus' mad I wasn't there for you,” he whispered and brought her back in to hold her against him once more. Her body felt relieved it was ridiculous for him to feel bad--he didn't even know she was going on a date. She didn't want him to feel bad.

"It's not your fault either," she whispered. Harry sighed with relief and he kissed the top of her hair.

She lost track of how long they stood there. It could have been two minutes or two hours. All she felt was Harry’s warm body against hers and reveled in how good it felt. “Call me a half hour before you’re ready to leave here. I’ll come walk you t’your car.”

She smiled softly, hoping to alleviate the tension now that a significant portion of time had passed. “Even if it’s in the middle of the night and—”

He didn’t think her joke was funny at all. “If y’call,” he repeated, interrupting her, his eyes were hard and serious. No room for joking at all. “I’ll be here.”

He was rapidly making her fall in love with him.

“Hey Dad,” she smiled softly sitting across from him at the dinner table. He grinned at her.

“Hey sweetie. How was your day?”

“Good! Did you see the game?” She asked. He nodded.

“Your guy did well, don’t you think?”

She laughed, shaking her head and blushed a bit. “Max Kepler is not my guy, Dad.”

“I didn’t say his name, honey,” he reminded her with a chuckle.

She rolled her eyes and bit the inside of her cheek. “I think I met a guy, actually,” she rushed out quickly.

“Oh?” He looked at her curiously, tilted his head ever so slightly and smiled. “That’s nice, sweetie. You haven’t had a boyfriend in a while. You need someone to...chat with, depend on,” he said knowingly. “I want to know you’re taken care of.”

“Dad, that is so 1950s of you. I don’t need a guy to take care of me.”

“Oh honey, I know you don’t. But I want you to have someone,” his voice was gentle.

For a moment she just looked at him. Thought long about all the things that had happened since she met Harry almost three months prior. It was a big deal to tell her dad about Harry. She wanted to make sure it was the right move especially after she was feeling poorly about her gut feeling. But she thought of Harry, the reassurance he gave her that it wasn’t her poor judgment that caused her bad date.

“His name is Harry. He’s a boxer,” she shrugged. “The raspberry filled cupcakes are his favorite.”

“Well, then he’s perfect. Right?”

She laughed, nodded, then bit her lip. “I mean...he’s...” she sighed forgoing all the details about how she was insane to let him steer her to his boxing match. How he helped her with self-defense classes. And why she was taking self-defense classes. No. She would tell him how they met another day. When Harry and she defined more of what their relationship was... if there was a relationship to be had. “I like him,” she admitted. “Then that’s all that really matters, honey,” he assured her. It felt like a blessing.

She couldn't wait to see Harry.

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iamasaddie · 7 months

Text

I wish that I was good enough

paring: Javier Peña x fem!afab!Reader rating: explicit word count: 3k summary: Getting Javier Peña to be your fuck buddy was a win. You had fun, orgasms and absolutely no feelings involved. Right? warnings: oral (m receiving); unprotected PinV (‼️); creampie; light degradation kink; dirty talk; mentioning of cum eating; angst-ish; no use of y/n a/n: just nurtured my Javi brainrot. sorry for maybe bad Spanish? and maybe bad English? not beta-ed, I'm owning all the mistakes MY MASTERLIST

Javier Peña was a fairly simple man and he prided himself in that. He never lied about who he was, never put on a mask; what you saw was what you got, and what you got was a man who'd seen so much shit that not only his edges turned rough, his whole being was hard as stone; not only his hands were calloused from the heavy weight of a gun, his soul was as gentle as sandpaper. His were the first brown eyes you saw that weren't warm. He had trust issues, anger issues, and all them other issues you could think of, and he didn't think about fixing them. He just went on with his life, sometimes alone, sometimes with someone who could handle him for an odd month or two.

You were someone who stayed around the longest. Most likely that was due to you two never actually having a "relationship". That was exactly how Javi phrased it to you the first time you shared a drink in a crowded bar in downtown Bogota.

"I'm not good in all that ‘relationship shit’”, he mimicked quotation marks with his fingers before downing his third whiskey, dry.

You nodded then, you weren't in search of your life partner either, too much shit to deal with after graduation and constant struggle to find a job. Stuff just piled on your plate higher and higher, and you though that your hands would just finally drop under the weight of your fucked-up life, with every decision you made being a wrong one. But at the end of the day, you were just a human, and if you knew one thing it was that pent up frustration lead to eventual big bang in a bloodied bath. So as any other girl you thought of the easy and safe way out. You needed a fuck buddy, a friends with benefits situation. The friends part wasn't that important, though. Any type of relationship would just complicate your life further, and that wasn't something you could handle. But yeah, a fuck buddy didn't sound like such a bad option, and you put on your most flirtatious smile as you mentioned that to your new devilishly handsome acquaintance.

"Ain't I too old to be your fuck buddy?" He barked a laugh holding his drink close to the plush softness of his lips, anything but flustered after your explicit proposition.

"Do you have an expiration date?" You countered cheekily, you were prepared for something like that to leave his inviting mouth.

He shook his head at that, shamelessly taking all of your form in. His glassy eyes were darkened, and you knew it wasn't the lights in the damn place. Javi was practically fucking you, already spreading your legs on top of that bar table, fucking into your throbbing cunt even before he learned your name. And even after finding out there were painful 16 years between you, his dark smile didn't falter, and his eyes didn't stop hungrily roaming over your body.

That night you ended up going to his place and getting fucked so hard you were sore for the next three days. It wasn't a bad thing, even if Javi did give you a concerned look when you crab-walked to his bathroom. The experience made you limp at work and cast your eyes down under the all-too-knowing looks of people oh so worth it.

From that moment you've established an equally beneficial routine: you’d meet two-three times a week, he’d let out all his pent up anger on your poor pussy and you’d free yourself of all the frustration and get the best fuck of your life on top of that. He was calmer, you were more satisfied and focused. The only thing that could ever make you go back on this safe heaven of sexual fulfillment would be someone starting to develop feelings, however impossible that was. However if that was to happen, well… what the other one didn't know wouldn't hurt them, right? The routine would stay put until the truth came out, and God, the hopes were high for it not to happen any time soon.

It was one of your nights. Darkness of the room was filled with wet sounds, the smell of sweat more intense in Colombian humidity. Two completely naked bodies were positioned in the middle of a small bedroom, the dim yellow light from the bedside table made the sweat covered skin look majestic rather than dirty. Though the words spilling in the confines of the night were less than.

"Good girl, sucking my cock like a filthy slut you are. Eres fantástica, cariña." The man above you put his hand around your throat lightly, squeezing to feel his cock pumping in and out of your welcoming heat. Your eyes watered, the image of him getting blurry, but you continued stuffing your throat, anticipating the soreness tomorrow.

You felt saliva wetting the corners of your mouth and dribbling out with a mix of his precum. Javi looked at you, the adoration in his voice was a strange contrast to the violent desire burning in his eyes and the nastiness falling from his lips. He swiped your spit with his thumb and proceeded to pat your cheek gently, not a slap, but close enough.

"Look at you, you're so greedy for my cock it's pathetic." His thrusts became harder, heavy balls slapping your chin with every movement. "Going to leave you here as my personal fucktoy." You moaned, excitement resulting in arousal coating your thighs, you desperately needed him to fill the hole that was clenching around nothing, but you didn't dare pull away. "I know you'd like that, mi puta deliciosa."

When you felt the desperate need for oxygen burning up your lungs, you leaned back a little, earning yourself a gentle slap across your cheek and thick fingers squeezing your jaw.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going? I'm far from being done with you, hermosa."

"Fuck, Javi, just fuck me already. I need your thick cock inside me, please." Your voice sounded fucked out, raspy and pleading. You put your hands on his thighs, breathing heavily as he swiped your drool with two fingers, before shoving them into your mouth unceremoniously. You didn’t mind, swirling your tongue around the digits, and biting them gently.

"Can’t wait until I fucking give it to you. Do you just love begging so much, baby?" He chuckled and shook his head in fake disappointment. You knew it was fake because there was nothing that excited him more than seeing you so desperate for him, needing him splitting you open like only he could. It made his head spin and cock twitch. "Such a needy little slut." You hummed around his fingers, and he took them out, leaving a string of saliva on your bottom lip. "Come on then, hands and knees, baby, let's put that greedy cunt to use."

The speed of you jumping into the position for a good fucking was comical, and Javi did laugh until he saw your puffy glistening lips inviting him to sink his throbbing cock into. The mattress dipped under him, and you felt his hands enveloping your hips, squeezing the skin tightly as he teased you pushing his hips into you, but not actually penetrating.

"Fuck, Javi," you turned your head, whining, "stop playing, just fuck me already!"

You felt the slap before you heard it. His massive hand left a burning imprint on your ass, and then another one right on top of the first. He lowered himself, hugging your middle with his left hand and forcing you to press your back against his broad chest. You whimpered as he left a trail of bites from your shoulder to your neck, stopping at your earlobe. "Don’t fucking tell me what to do, baby. Stop whining. I’ll fuck you when I see fit, and you’re gonna take it and thank me, because that’s how it works. Because that is how you want it. Am I wrong?"

You shook your head desperately, annoyed at how right this is. Your whole deal only worked because he seemed to know you better, that you knew yourself. At first that scared you, but soon you craved it more than a glass of water on the worst hangover morning. His hand left another generous slap on your burning asscheek and this time it made you actually yelp in pain.

"I asked you a fucking question, baby, am I wrong?"

"No, Javi, no you’re not wrong."

"Damn right I’m not wrong." His hand traveled up your sternum, stopping as it found your right tit and Javi pinched your tight with sensitivity and arousal nipple. He was just as gentlemanly as you needed him, which was none. He let go of you and pushed you back in the original position, your elbows meeting the soft mattress.

You knew he needed you as much as you needed him, you had felt him throb on your tongue, his thick cock with its fat round head had been punching bruises into your throat for the last ten minutes, and you knew he was about to bust when you let him go. So you just needed to be a little bit more patient and he’d give it to you. He always did. Quenching your desire for him all up in your guts with little breaths, you lowered your head between your arms.

"That’s it, hermosa, waiting like a good little bitch." You smiled, knowing that he wouldn’t see it, and he caressed your hot ass with a light movement. "Just needed to discipline you first." You honestly didn’t understand the thunder of slaps raining on your asscheeks after those words. There was less than a second between every spank, and while you whined and shivered both in pain and pleasure, begging him to just let you cum, you couldn’t stop your back from arching further, giving him a bigger expanse of your skin to torture.

"Good girl, such a good girl, Hermosa, just taking all I give you."

Slap,

slap,

slap.

The last one made you jerk, his hand already wet with all the slick running down your slit and thighs twitched, making his slap land square on your begging pussy.

"Fuck!" The scream was literally slapped out of you. Javi stopped immediately, pressing his whole palm into your burning lips.

"Okay?"

It was more than okay, the raw sensation seemed to bring you even closer to your long-awaited orgasm than you anticipated, but it was your chance to make Javi stop playing with you. You did have an awful day and you just needed to forget everything being split open on his cock. "It will be if you fuck me already," you gritted through your teeth.

He let his hand gently pat your slick pussy, diving into your throbbing hole with two fingers and sliding in and out easily. "That pretty pussy is just drooling for me, baby. She got my hand all wet, can’t wait to give my dick the same treatment, can she?"

He didn’t wait for you to answer, and you didn’t think you’d be able to anyway. Not when the tip of his cock teased your pulsing clit, and then swiftly opened up your cunt, letting Javi bury all of him inside you in one deep stroke.

"Fuck," you could hear him speaking as he bit his lower lips, words muffled as he placed both of his hands back on your hips. You closed your eyes, feeling the familiar stinging fullness that you came to desire every morning. That you failed to recreate every day you were alone. That you came back to every night your phone buzzed with ‘you should come over tonight, hermosa’. "That fucking cunt ruined me, baby. Can’t fuck anything but your pretty hole. Squeezes me just fucking right." His little sentiments sent a warm feeling down your spine, even though you knew he was just saying it in the heat of the moment. He’d say stuff like that, feeling you cunt clench and more of your arousal seeping down of your stretched opening, making the sounds in the room absurdly vulgar.

It was like Javi just read your mind. He was a great fuck from day one, but what shook you the most, what made you addicted the most was his fucking intuition. It was like he saw all the cues your body was subconsciously giving off: when to slap you, when to go faster or slower, and when to drag his skillful fingers to play with your clit. You even told him once that whatever he did for work now he should quit, because being a male prostitute would get him way more money. He laughed, and then fucked your brains out on the kitchen table, eating your mixed cum out of your overstimulated pussy afterwards while your takeout was getting cold next to you.

Just like every other night you spent tangled in each other, he gave it to you just the way you wanted again. Slow, deep strokes of his cock that you felt from your opening and right to that spot inside you that he punched with every push. With every rugged breath his pace became more rigid, he was close, but you were closer. You lifted one of your hands off the mattress guiding it to your begging clit, but again, Javi read you before you could think. His fingers moved from your hips to the apex of your thighs teasing your bundle of nerves with tight circles. You could feel his balls slapping against you, his sweat mixing with yours, the coarse hair above his cock irritating the raw skin of your ass with every thrust.

"Javi, I’m gonna.."

"I know, hermosa, feel you squeeze me with your pretty cunt," he gritted through his teeth. "Come on, baby, I wanna feel you cry all over my cock, give it to me."

His thrusts became more rapid, the movements of his fingers unforgiving on your clit and you felt your knees almost give out as your mouth opened in a silent scream. You throbbed and pulsed around his still hard cock, and the drag of it inside you made you cry out with oversensitivity.

"Turn around, come on, wanna see you." He manhandled you like a doll, your mind not cooperating with your body as you dropped on your back welcoming him once again between your spread thighs. Javi didn’t wait a moment, crowding you with his arms, and dropping his mouth to suck little hickeys on your tits as he sunk back inside. You shuddered, still coming down from your climax as he chased his. His hips worked like a jackhammer, stuffing you full again, again, again. Wet lips left kisses, bites and licks wherever he could reach, and eventually his head fell into the crook of your neck, only his loud breathing and the lewd sound of skin slapping skin remaining in the quiet room.

You circled your arms around his neck, and tugged on his hair, sweaty strands of it slippery between your fingers. That little pang of pain was what undid Javi, and he let out a wail, like a wounded animal, filling you with rope after rope of his cum. He fell on top of you, your sweaty bodies sticking together.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck. Oh, fuck, I love you so much. Te quiero, te quiero, te quiero." His soft whisper was as loud as a thunderstorm in an empty field. And you felt like you were struck by lightning, mind sobering up from your orgasm in an inhuman past when you pushed his slick body away from yours. You didn’t pay attention to the sticky cum leaking down your wet thighs as he landed on his back, eyes looking at you with more than just physical pain.

"What the fuck did you say, Javi?"

You wanted him to say that it was in the heat of the moment, that he didn't mean it. Or that he thought of someone else while fucking you, so the words just slipped out and weren't meant for you. Anything, any fucking excuse.

"Lo siento, querida." He didn't blink, staying as still as a statue, droplets of liquid salt quickly soaking into the sheets under him.

You shook your head, trying to get his words out of your brain. No, no, no, fucking please. It felt like a betrayal. He was the only constant in your life, the only thing you were sure of, and then he decided to selfishly take that away from you? Fall in love with you? What a fucking prick.

"That's some fucking bullshit, Javi, we had a deal! We had a fucking deal!"

He nodded, closing his eyes, too weak to see the disappointment on your face. "I know, I fucked up, but I just... - "

"No," you were quick to interrupt him, jumping off the bed that had seen so much and pulling your jeans and a t-shirt without even trying to find your underwear. "I can't fucking believe you'd do that." Your eyes watered, angry tears threatening to roll down your cheeks, so you dropped your head lower to pick up your shoes and walked to the door barefoot.

"Hermosa!" You heard him calling for you, and then the sound of his movements. There he was, staring at you in all his naked glory, more desperate for you than ever. The only time you didn't want to satiate his craving. Wasn't ready to.

"Fuck you, Javi."

The loud bang of the door closing was nothing compared to the sound of his newly healed heart shattering into dust.

ummm... yeah. so, comment if you liked it? thanks!

#javier pena x you #javier peña x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena #pedro pascal fanfiction #iamasaddie fic #javier peña x female reader

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jazzyoranges · 7 months

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Would it be possible if you could do a Tara Carpenter x fem!reader please? Maybe someone flirts with reader and tara gets mad and pulls reader into a room aggressively which hurts the reader, and starts like making out with her, but tara bites the readers lip out of anger and hurts the reader so she starts crying and then tara feels bad and comforts her and telling the reader it wasn’t her fault and that she shouldn’t have taken her anger out on the reader? Idk if that makes sense but if you don’t feel comfortable doing that then you don’t have to! 🫶

Jealousy - drabble

Tara Carpenter x fem!reader

Words: 0.9k

Warnings: angst(?), Tara is mean but bbg doesn’t mean it

A/n: lowkey inspired by @rollingsins All hers Tara (as in Tara deals with bad jealousy issues). also i changed a little bit of the request, but blink and you’ll probably miss it

Tara is by your side, yet you hear your name being called behind you. Deciding it’s probably nothing, you decide to keep talking to your girlfriend about god knows what. Unfortunately, the voice seems to keep getting closer until-

“Y/N, hey!” You feel a tap on your shoulder, and you whip your head around to see a girl you took english with. Sadie, was it? Tara immediately glares at the girl, but she’s too enthralled with you to notice her stare

“I didn’t think you were coming to this party! You look really good” There’s a hint of something in her voice, but you can’t figure out what it is. You determine she’s probably just being friendly. The two of you engage in small-talk you really don’t want to be in, but it doesn’t hurt being nice

“So, are you free tomorrow? I need help studying” Sadie winks at you, and you suddenly start to feel uncomfortable in her presence

“She’s with me tomorrow, actually” Tara buts into the conversation, sensing your tiny discomfort

“So don’t you fucking try any shit, you got that?” Your girlfriend points a finger in Sadie’s direction, causing her to take a step back. Tara storms off and you can hear Sadie mutter about how she’s a bitch. You shoot a glare at the girl, and try to spot Tara in the sea of drunk people dancing

“Tara, baby, she was just being friendly” You follow behind your angry girlfriend stomping upstairs away from the party

“Oh yeah, like she wasn’t checking you out. Everyone down there probably now thinks they have a chance, but you’re mine.” Tara practically growls, turning around to face you. You take a step back, but Tara just pulls you into a random guest room in the house

You’ve played this game before. Tara gets jealous, she fucks the shit out of you. But this time feels… different. When Tara pushes you against the door, she isn’t as gentle. When she crashes her lips into yours, Tara starts devouring you like she’s never going to see you again. You really start to get concerned when she starts to mutter words under her breath in between rough kisses

“Mine… you’re all fucking mine. Nobody else’s, all mine.” Tara murmurs, almost like a chant. Honestly, you feel a little guilty at how hot and bothered she’s making you feel

“Tara, stop.” This definitely isn’t healthy. Even though you’re a little turned on, you recognize this isn’t a good habit to have

“Shut up, you’re mine.” Your girlfriend hooks her thumbs into the belt loops of your jeans, forcing you to be closer to her

“Tara.”

“Say it. Say you don’t belong to that bitch.” Your final straw is when she bites your lip hard enough to draw blood. Planting your hands on her shoulders, you have to pry your girlfriend off of you. This wasn’t the Tara you knew. This wasn’t the Tara that would hold you during your nightmares. The Tara in front of you was filed by jealousy and anger.

When the brunette takes a good look at you through the darkness of the room, you can see her face contort into something akin to regret and remorse. Stray tears you didn’t know you had dripped down your face, your lip stung with blood, yet somehow you were still looking at Tara like she was the only woman to ever exist

“…Y/N?”

“Yeah, baby?” You sigh, taking your hands off her shoulders

“I-I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to- I just-“

“I know you didn’t mean to, baby.”

“Can I touch you?” Nodding your head, Tara wipes off the blood on your lip with her sleeve. Next, she wipes the tears off your face. Tara holds your face in her hands, looking like she just killed a puppy

“Tara?”

“Y-Yeah?” her voice breaks

“I’m not mad at you. We’re not going to break up because of tonight.” Your reassurance was enough to make Tara cry, pulling you into a hug. Her tears wet your shirt, but that’s the least of your concerns right now. A slew of apologies ranging from “I love you so much, I’m sorry.” to “I’m so sorry this won’t happen again.” escape her lips and into your neck

You knew Tara had a bad problem with jealousy. You happily supported her during her therapy sessions, and you welcomed your girlfriends progress with open arms. Her anger must’ve been building over the past few weeks, because she was never this bad when it came to jealousy

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.” She finally says. “I shouldn’t have taken out my anger on you, baby. You don’t deserve that.” Tara’s eyes are red, and her sniffles make your heart break at how small she looks

“It’s okay, Tara. I know you’re trying, baby. How about we go home now?”

“Please? I’ll make it up to you, I promise” You pull Tara out of the room, and make your way to Tara’s car. The rest of the night, you two spend your time in each others arms settled in your girlfriends room

#jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega #tara carpenter #tara carpenter scream #scream #scream 6

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luveline · 8 months

Note

Congrats on 40k Jade! Also hi, I hope you're having a great day (I'm really nervous this is my first time sending in a request I'm so sorry if I sound weird)

𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝'𝐬 𝐨𝐤 —send me a hurt/comfort request for any reader and any character and I'll write a ficlet, 2k or less

Can I request a reader that has a bit of a temper and got told that no one would like her because of it so she's a bit insecure about herself? My favourite character is James so maybe with him or with Remus whichever you prefer (and they reassure her and it's awesome because your writing is just so awesome)

Congrats again <3

luveline's 40k party ☆ thank you so much, you didn't sound weird at all dw ♡ fem!reader

The day has been long, your feet dragging up the steps to Remus' flat. His door sticks and the only radiator that doesn't need bleeding is the one in his bedroom, so it's cold, and you're irked. You kick out of your pinching shoes and hang your jacket up, which falls on the floor. You pick it up and it falls again. Huffing, you put it on the sideboard and trudge down the hallway to Remus bedroom.

"Hello, my lovely," he says without looking up.

There's a notebook in his lap. He's wearing his reading glasses. If you were in a better mood you'd try to distract him by laying across his thighs. As it stands, you're fucking exhausted. You flop down in his bed and curl towards him where he's sitting against the headboard.

"Tired?" he asks.

"Mm." Tired isn't the right word, but the right word makes people cringe at you.

Today has been awful and you hate the part of you that wants to rail about it. You can't help how you feel; this anger glows molten. It makes you hate yourself, which irks you worse. You grab one of his pillows and pull it against your chest to squeeze it until your arms hurt.

"Bad day?" he asks, pen scratching.

You exhale. "A bit," you say into the pillowcase.

"Sorry, dovey," he says. There's the sound of paper leaves catching against one another and the clink of a pen put away. "What did you say? I needed to finish writing that edit down before I forgot."

You're not mad at him in particular but your voice comes out tightly strung anyhow, "I said it was a bit of a bad day."

Remus hears your tone and refuses to skirt around the issue. Not from a want to be confrontational, but a direct way of going about things. "What, are you mad at me?"

"No," you say, turning away from him.

"You seem mad."

"I think I am."

"Well, now you don't sound mad," he says, dipping down to talk into the back of your neck. "Now you sound upset. Have I upset you?"

"No, Remus," you say. Mad to sad to mad again, your shoulder and spine ache with rigidity.

All his questions didn't make you mad, but you were mad to begin with, and so what might usually be very normal turns to irritating. In the moment, you've no hope of controlling it, and, not wanting to further subject Remus to any misdirected annoyance, you shuffle out of his reach. "I just need a minute," you say.

Remus is used to your temper, though you often worry he'll grow tired of you and your big moods and throw in the towel. You count useless numbers in your head and curl your fists into balls until your bones feel like they're too big for your skin, wanting to deal with it alone.

A minute or two later and Remus reaches for your side. "I was trying to lighten the mood, and it wasn't my best work," he says, tip of his thumb drawing semi circles into your shirt.

Remus taking the blame for your emotions has you frowning, rabbit-holing into twisting thoughts. He's always been good for you and good to you, accepting of your short fuse. He's not always sunshine and lollipops himself. But, he's not angry half as often as you are. Does that bother him? People have said to you before that your temper will be the ruining of a good thing, that Remus won't want to deal with it. And it makes sense.

You don't want to deal with it either. You don't really feel like you have much choice when it comes to being mad.

"Sorry," you mumble.

Mattress springs groan as he leverages himself closer to you. Familiar, his hand sneaks under your shirt to tickle the soft roll of your stomach. He draws a slow and winding line with no end nor goal in mind, uncaring of the pouch you get laying down. Remus doesn't really care about anything that could be marked superficial. It's one of the many reasons that he's markedly the best person you know; he loves everything that you hate about yourself without hesitation. Like your anger.

"Do you want to set a rule?" he asks.

"Pardon?"

"Humour me. Let's make a condition before we have this conversation." Remus stops drawing to slide his hand between your hip and the mattress, hugging you to him. "I'll assume you're not mad at me even if you sound angry, and you can assume I don't mind."

"Do you mind?" you ask.

"Well, I don't love when you're angry, but I know it isn't at me so it won't matter."

Reassured enough to face him, you meet his eyes.

"I know I have a tendency to make it sound like I'm angry at you when I'm really mad at someone else," you say.

"That's not true. And I ask, don't I? If I think you're mad at me?" Remus' already dulcet voice drops to a murmur, words said slowly and with as much care as a person can put into words alone, "I don't know why you feel like you're such a bad person for being angry."

"Because it's all the time," you say. Your throat burns with the effort that it takes to stay intelligible.

"It's not all the time."

"It's often, and it's not fair to you."

"It's not fair to take it out on other people, and I promise you I'd let you know if you were doing that. So… could you just tell me why you're mad? Without worrying I'll take it personally."

"It's not about taking it personally, I don't want you to take it personally, but it's just– it's just ugly, isn't it?"

Remus frowns. "Honestly? I don't think so. You have to be angry sometimes. Everyone gets angry and those feelings need somewhere to go, or it'll eat you up inside and make you bitter instead. Like… okay, he'll forgive me for telling you this, but Sirius used to get into these awful angry tirades where he'd shout at nothing, you know? And I hated seeing him do it, but I wasn't sitting there thinking he was ugly for it. I just kind of hated that something was able to occupy him so heavily. And that's how I feel about it when it happens to you, dove."

"He used to?" you ask, the bridge of your nose flat to his knee.

"Yeah, he did." Remus pushes your shoulder flat to the bed beneath you and leans in to give you a kiss. The corner of your mouth takes the brunt of it.

"Did you kiss him like this, or–"

Remus laughs and hugs you, "A discussion for another day," he murmurs. He gives you a last kiss and squeeze and then sits up. "So shout at me."

"I don't want to shout at you."

"You know what I mean. Tell me what pissed you off today."

"Are you sure?" you ask.

"Yeah, I'm sure, I like the way your eyes look anyways, when you get riled up." Remus finds your hand to hold. "Tell me, dove. I'll be angry with you."

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #remus x reader #remus x you #marauders #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #marauders x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #the marauders #luveline's 40k party

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tswhiisftteedr · 24 days

Note

Not to be rude but you accidentally put val's story in vox's masterlist instead. Srry I didn't feel comfy dming you. Nothing against you at all I'm just a coward wanting to hide in anon haha. Ig while I'm here could I get vox general hcs pls?

What the Tv do? ☆ Vox General Headcanon + Drabbles (SFW & NSFW)

☆ Vox General headcanon + Vox x Gn!Reader(Employee!Reader??):

Some general thoughts about the tv man and also his relationship with the ‘reader’. This is silly, this is fun, fluffy and smutty.

Warnings: Mature Content, Not Proofread, Drinking, Death(literally overdose on coffe nothing gruesome), Drug use(c0caine and others substances), Sadistic Tendencies, Dub-Con, Power Imbalance/Power Play, Obsessive and Possessive Tendencies and Acts, Stalking, Voyeurism & Exhibitionism, Boss x Employee, Pet Play?(Just collaring and slight animal based pet names), Valentino.

Words: Total: 5496 = Sfw - 2609 + Nsfw - 2887

Note: I only wrote 1 drabble, i might add more if people request it about the specific headcanon they want more on. so I’m not good with request like these, I like when they are more specific so I have sort of something to base my writing on, so sorry if you anon or people don’t like what I’ve wrote, r.i.p. >:/ Though tell me if you want more!!

☆ more under the cut. ☆

SFW:

☕︎ Coffee addict and 𓏊 Alcoholic

Vox is the figurative and quite literally incarnation of the ‘don’t talk to me until I’ve had my coffee’ phrase.

But we’re talking coffees instead of coffee with him — two cups straight out of bed to be precise. When totalling the day’s consumption, Vox indulges on average, 6-7 cups of 10 oz coffee; in addition to his morning coffees, he likes to have a mid-morning cup, then two during lunch and finally 1-2 cups during the afternoon depending how late he is working.

Is this per say, ‘healthy’? No, not at all, Vox couldn't care less — worst ‘worst’ case scenario, he quote on quote dies, the coffee he had intake ends up intoxicating him due to the splurging amount of it, turning this mondaine drink into a lethal liquid for the overlord’s body. His heart would stop, sub-consequently, him and his body would be out.

Though the good thing — or bad, it all depends on your angle — about hell is that in about the span of 10 minutes his body will have fully regenerate and be back open for business. Some sinners call it it a curse, he calls it a blessing, as this part of the ‘eternal punishment’ practically makes him immortal.

So is he going to work on regulating his caffeine intake? Obviously not!

Worst thing he gets from his ‘little problem’ is a heart attack, and they don’t permanently keep him down. — Sure, they hurt like a bitch, and he would rather not be having them at all to be truthful.

But he honestly he doesn’t see his bimonthly cardiac arrests as that steep of a price to pay. (Honestly how can such a smart businessman be so dumb about his health. * face palming and baffled at the idiocy of it all *)

Now when alcohol is the subject of conversation, Vox takes a slightly different approach, albeit one still characterized by overindulgence.

You see, he prides himself on being the epitome of a charming, classy, and self-controlled casual drinker, compared to his drunkard of a pattern —Valentino— our lovely show host with anger issues and both inferiority and superiority complex is a sophisticated and savvy man.

However, beneath this facade of self-control, which he upholds quite well to the public eye, hides his obvious alcoholism issues.

While he may not be stumbling and blubbering around, picking fights,— in most instances at least— Vox is certainly what you might call a “day drinker."

In fact, this is actually a canonical trait, which was displayed in episode two of the show; Him discussing with others Vees on how to deal with the radio demon’s comeback, a drink in hand.

I presume thatit was a scotch on the rocks due to it’s colour but also it’s historical relevance in relation to Vox’s person— Scotch whisky poured over ice, gained popularity in the 1950s primarily in Western countries such as the United States, the United Kingdom, and Canada.

It became a symbol of sophistication and leisure, often enjoyed in upscale bars, clubs, and lounges frequented by the affluent and fashionable crowd of the era.

Additionally, its popularity was bolstered by the rise of cocktail culture during the mid-20th century, as well as the increasing availability of Scotch whisky in international markets. — this fits quite nicely Vox’s character as it is both a drink of his time on earth but also one that remains relevant in the contemporary era.

It easily mirrors Vox's overarching desire to maintain relevance and significance, both in the present and in the ever-evolving future.

The overlord definitely adhere to ‘it’s five o’clock somewhere’ religiously. Though he does prefer to enjoy his daily drink around 5 p.m. PRT (Pride Ring Time).

He will occasionally enjoys a drink with his lunch, often opting for wine, although this isn't a regular occurrence for the man.

As someone constantly under stress, with his mind racing to keep up with the ever-changing trends and opinions in hell, Vox is a type to indulge in a nightcap or two before bed.

It helps him unwind and achieve the relaxed state of mind necessary for a restful night's sleep.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 Sleep

While the notion of ‘Vox's dreams playing on his screen while he's asleep’ is an amusing concept for fanfiction or artwork, I personally find the idea of ‘the VoxTek logo bouncing around like the DVD logo’ to be more fitting for Vox.

Before delving further, it's important to note that initially, it wasn't necessarily the VoxTek logo projected on his screen; however, I'll address this shortly.

The reason I lean towards the DVD logo concept is because I find it unlikely that Vox's screen would be completely black during sleep. A completely dark screen would imply the device is completely off, no energy is being received or given by it, which would suggest that it is no longer alive. Having some activity on Vox’s screen while asleep would signify that his program is still active, indicating he's still functioning, essentially alive.

Now regarding the widely shared headcanon, I have my own personal take on it.

When Vox first manifested in hell, his 'real name' appeared on screen. By 'real name,' I mean the one he had on Earth, which I believe wasn't Vox —That name seems too futuristic for a person born in the early 1900s or the kind of name you'd associate with a 1950s businessman— Vox is a name he chose for himself after death, symbolizing a fresh start, though I do think that his real name might also have started with a V.

(This perspective extends to other 'Vees' as well, although Velvette seems more plausible as a given name, I suspect it might not be her original one. Valentino, on the other hand, feels like a name assigned to him, but he too might have adopted a new one after death.)

Initially, Vox was unaware of his old name appearing on his screen while he slept since he wasn't conscious during that time. It wasn't until about half a year into his time in hell, during which he introduced himself as Vox to everyone, that one of his acquaintances pointed out this aspect of his physiology. Something along the lines of "Who's V———?" or "Why does V——— show on your screen while you sleep?" triggered a cascade of reactions in him.

Firstly, he panicked, realizing that people had access to his old identity. Secondly, he was puzzled by this phenomenon since no TV he had encountered displayed such behavior, which was normal considering DVDs weren't invented before 1996. — Hell sure was weird, he possessed technological features as part of his physiology before they were even invented— Lastly, this revelation instilled in him a new fear of sleeping.

This behavior stemmed from Vox's desire to construct a fresh existence in hell, complete with a new identity, image, empire, etc. The thought of others accessing his old name and exploiting it to uncover details about his past, including his behaviors, weaknesses, and tactics, filled him with dread.

As a result, he became hyper-vigilant, refusing to sleep unless he was certain of his solitude, fearing the potential repercussions of his former identity being known.

It wasn't until the mid 1960s that Vox had finally managed to upgrade his system, replacing ‘V———‘ with 'Vox'. However, even after this upgrade, he still harboured reservations about sleeping around others for about a year or two. He feared a potential glitch that could revert his screen to displaying his previous name.

Around the late 1970s he had made an adjustment to this aspect of his body once more, replacing 'Vox' with the VoxTek logo after a certain moth had suggested it.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Sexuality

Our beloved Tv Demon a canonical bisexual man, but I personally believe that while he may have bisexuality as his sexual orientation, — his attraction to men was something he only came to realize after death. Although there were subtle hints of his attraction to the same gender based on how he felt about them, he unfortunately didn't grasp them while still alive;

It would have been the late 1950s, and Vox had been in hell for about a year or two. In his earthly life, he had been with his fair share of women, and even in the "surprisingly not so fiery pits of the underworld," his ability to attract partners hadn't diminished much once got over his TV head appearance and let place for his charming and savvy persona to take over.

His love life seemed unchanged, perhaps with occasional exploration of new kinks, until that fateful night of October 11, 195X...

Vox had gone out for a drink after a grueling day at work, back when he was still toiling away at a low-paying job in an electronics factory, toasters, vacuum, etc. Despite the shitty work he had to go through, he had the perk of taking home broken scraps, which eventually played a role in his rise to success. But let's refocus on his night out, shall we?

He walked into his newfound favorite spot, a comedy bar where he sought solace in laughter and libations after a hard day. Arriving just as the performer began their set, he headed straight to the bar for his usual whiskey on the rocks, with nothing else on his mind. It wasn't until the comedian delivered a particularly hilarious joke that Vox turned to look at them and found his attraction piqued.

It was evident that they were a man with the specific style flashy outfit and makeup they wore. The voice was also a dead giveaway. The person now standing on stage, delivering one funny punchline after another, was a drag queen – a stunning one in Vox's eyes.

He couldn't tear his gaze away; there was something irresistibly captivating about the humorous individual on stage.

After the performance, as they made their way to the bar, Vox seized the opportunity. He introduced himself, and they exchanged pleasantries. They shared drinks and engaged in lively conversation, making for a truly enjoyable night that ended with a bang, quite literally.

In the morning, as clarity returned, Vox couldn't help but feel confused. He had never been attracted to men before, so he initially chalked it up to the alcohol or the fact that his night companion appeared so feminine that he mistook them for a woman.

However, as memories of the night flooded back, he couldn't deny his genuine attraction to every aspect of his partner, even the unmistakably male parts.

Initially, it felt strange to Vox as he reflected on the experience. However, after hours of deep contemplation, everything started to fall into place.

Vox realized he had always felt an affinity towards men, though expressing it as "liking men" might have appeared odd to outsiders. When he used that phrase, it wasn't in the context of sexual or romantic attraction but more of an admiration.

Yet, upon further reflection, he acknowledged that his feelings surpassed mere admiration.

He had never entertained the idea of it being anything akin to sexual or romantic attraction, but his recent encounter forced him to reconsider as he contemplated his life and the events of the previous night.

Vox liked men;

— Vox had always been drawn to the men of his time who exuded masculine confidence and assertiveness, finding their presence alluring and desiring to be in their company constantly.

He liked when they wore classic masculine fashion, such as tailored suits with narrow lapels, fitted jackets, and straight-leg trousers. These outfits oozed sophistication and professionalism, and Vox admired the attention to detail displayed.

Additionally, he liked when men would add classic accessories like fedora hats, skinny ties, cufflinks, and pocket squares to their outfit, they added to the polished and stylish appearance.

The preppy style also appealed to Vox, as he admired men who wore V-neck sweaters, button-down shirts, khaki trousers, and loafers. This style exuded a sense of casual elegance and refinement that he found attractive.

He also had a penchant for rebellious men who embraced a non-conformist aesthetic, often seen in leather jackets, denim jeans, white T-shirts, and motorcycle boots.

Vox liked when men were smart and witty, could keep up with the conversation and also teach something along the way.

Vox liked men who exuded strength and athleticism, finding their ability to handle themselves physically appealing. For instance, witnessing a fistfight between coworkers would stir his emotions, initially attributing his excitement to the violence of the altercation.

However, he would inevitably find himself gravitating towards the winner, intrigued by their display of strength and skill, and feeling drawn to them in some inexplicable way. There was something about winners that captivated him and sparked his desire to get closer to them.

He like men who were daring, adventurous, and unafraid to push boundaries, they appealed to his sense of excitement and thrill-seeking.

He liked men who were ambitious, goal-oriented, and willing to pursue their dreams with determination might have resonated with Vox on a subconscious level.—

After his one-night stand, Vox was determined to clarify things once and for all. Following another grueling day of work, he ventured out again, this time to a gay bar, seeking the company of someone who embodied the traits he found most appealing in men, wanting to ensure it wasn't just the alcohol or the femininity of his previous partner. Without delving into detail, let's just say he had quite the night and afterward, there was no doubt in his mind: ‘he liked women, and he definitely also liked men.’

Following that experience, Vox began seeing more individuals of the same gender. However, he still held onto the notion that while he might be attracted to men, he didn't believe he would be interested in them as anything more than sexual partners. That was until he met Alastor...

Initially, Vox approached the radio demon seeking friendship or perhaps a partnership, given Vox's burgeoning company and rising status as an overlord. However, he soon found himself enamored with Alastor. Unfortunately for Vox, his feelings were not reciprocated. After that, Alastor distanced himself from Vox, leading our TV host to regard his old love as an enemy.

In response to the rejection, Vox decided to cease seeing men altogether, engaging in a series of short-term relationships with women. However, he soon realized he was simply idealizing Alastor and shifted his focus from woman to men for meaningless relationships, attempting to prove to himself that any other man was better than "that Bambi bitch."

But this approach only intensified the emptiness he felt. Recognizing the detrimental effects of his frantic behavior on himself and his company, Vox resolved to regulate and get back on a more business focused path.

The fact that rumours began circulating about his supposed "homoerotic relationships," was also a big push into getting back on track, as a word like that getting out was detrimental to business, since being gay was still stigmatized even in hell, during this time period.

It was around the late 1970s, with the rise of gay rights activism, that Vox began publicly dating men. Coincidentally, this was also when he met and began his business partnership (and more) with Valentino.

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ Names

Vox has a penchant for using endearing or patronizing nicknames, regardless of the gender of his employees. He will refer to them as "sweetheart," "doll face," or simply "doll."

In moments of frustration or when faced with resistance, he's not shy about using terms like "little girl" or "little boy," or even "kid," to belittle those who question him.

Additionally, he might employ terms like "Princess" or "your highness" as forms of condescension, no matter the gender of the person he is addressing.

NSFW

𓊔 Party

Despite Vox's obsession with his and the Vees' image, when it comes to partying, he becomes a total animal — I’m talking ‘The Wolf of Wall Street’ type of wild.

Lavish gatherings marked by obscene spending and excessive drug intake, especially cocaine.

Vox typically indulged in doing lines off his desk or the luxurious crystal table in the lounge. However, what truly exited him was snorting lines off someone, getting his rocks off at their inability to refuse his advances and delighting in the control he exerted as he pinned them down to prevent any squirming.

The slight anxious tears and nervous mewls from whoever served as his snorting surface always stirred something within Vox. While he would grow irritated if they moved too much, the subtle signs of fear, such as the wetting of their eyes and trembling breath, would quickly reignite his unstable emotions. He found himself intensely aroused by their scared state, and more than once, he acted on these desires…

Drabble:

You were a VoxTek employee, more specifically; Vox’s secretary.

As Vox's secretary, navigating Alastor-related tantrums and enduring the grueling hours could be incredibly taxing, but the job itself had its perks.

Thanks to your position in the company, you enjoyed luxurious accommodations in the finest suites the V Tower had to offer.

Despite the challenges, Vox could be surprisingly pleasant, his charismatic charm reminiscent of his earlier days when his hypnosis wasn't as potent. And beneath the unconventional exterior of his TV head, there was no denying the appeal of his well-built physique.

Given the close proximity and constant interaction with Vox, it was inevitable to develop a small crush on your boss. His magnetic presence and the fact he was practically the only person you interacted with regularly since he requested you to work closer to him about three months ago only fueled this infatuation.

You liked your boss, but at this moment, you couldn't stand him;

It was 3 a.m. on a Sunday, the one day of the week you were supposed to have some semblance of off-time, with the luxury of sleeping in until noon.

But instead of enjoying your well-deserved rest in bed, you found yourself reluctantly entering the elevator, begrudgingly making your way to the usually closed-off top floor of the building.

Why? Because you had received a threatening and slightly slurry phone call from your boss, demanding your immediate presence or else face termination.

With your livelihood seemingly hanging in the balance, you complied without questioning, even though you loathed every second of it.

After punching in the code provided, you entered the lounge area of the top floor to find all three Vees lounging about. Valentino was enveloped in smoke, while music filled the air.

"Y/N! So glad you made it! Come 'ere," Vox exclaimed, his gestures frantic, urging you to approach quickly. He appeared laid-back, friendly, and strangely excited, a stark contrast to his usual demeanor of coldness and condescension.

Confusion clouded your expression as you approached the couch, unsure of what to make of Vox's sudden change in behavior. Velvette, noticing your bewilderment, chimed in with an explanation. "He took some MDMA before he called you — actually, he couldn't stop blabbing about your ass once that stuff kicked in," she divulged matter-of-factly, adding another layer of peculiarity to the already bizarre situation.

‘Ah, he’s high — that explains the weird friendliness.’ You thought to yourself.

But before you could dwell on it too long, Valentino's words snapped you out of your thoughts, "Yes, little Voxxy over there couldn't stop talking about how much he wanted his little secretary with him right here. He just had to call you, despite it being the middle of the night. I'm sorry you're losing your beauty sleep right now, cariño," he said, his tone tinged with insincerity from false remorse. A small chuckle escaped his lips as he finished speaking, adding to the surreal atmosphere of the moment.

“Val, Vel! You can’t tell them that! Or they’ll, they’ll… fuck!” Vox began to say, but something mid-sentence seemed to frustrate him.

Before you could question it for too long, Valentino answered that question for you. “They’ll figure out you have a little crush on them. Aww, don’t worry papi, it’s not like they can say no to you either way,” the moth darkly announced, frightening you, as it was technically true that you had to obey whatever order your boss gave you; it was in your contract after all.

To your somewhat relief, Vox scoffed at his part-time boyfriend's comment, as if to convey that he wouldn't behave in such a manner.

"Shut the fuck, Val!" Vox began, his frustration evident, before redirecting his attention back to you. "And you, lay down on the table." Confused by the request, you briefly wondered if he was joking, but the seriousness etched on his face made it clear that he wasn't. Resigned, you followed his instruction and laid down on the table as he commanded.

As soon as you complied, a smile spread across Vox's face. "Good, good. Now be a good little secretary and stay still as I do some lines off you, m'kay?" he instructed.

Before you could process anything or say something, he pushed your shirt all the way up, ending just under your chest, and tugged your bottoms down slightly — exposing your whole stomach.

Attempting to voice your discomfort, you were promptly shushed by Vox. "Shhh, you're being a table for me right now, and last time I checked, tables don't talk, now do they, sweetheart? So be a doll and shut up," he said, eliciting laughter from the two other Vees.

You complied with his instructions and remained silent as you felt him pour some powder onto your abdomen. Knowing the drugs he usually made you order on his behalf, it was probably coke.

With that, he quickly formed about three lines and began snorting them. The sensation felt odd and somewhat ticklish to you, but what you didn't expect was for him to lick the parts of your belly where the powder had just sat — long lines that started from top to bottom, causing you to squirm involuntarily.

Vox didn't appreciate your movement, because ‘how dare his table move?’. In response, he firmly gripped your waist on both sides and forcefully slammed your hips against the table as a warning to ‘stop moving’.

However, his claws dug into your skin, causing you to cry out slightly. Upon seeing the small tears in your eyes, his mood shifted once more, from aggravation to something more lustful.

He relished the sight of you with tears in your eyes, so he decided to inflict a bit more pain. With a predatory glint in his eyes, he bit at your sides, knowing that you couldn't retaliate due to the hierarchical difference between you.

His bites started from the top, gradually getting lower until they ended up just above your crotch. With a slight, heavy breathing, he remarked, "Now what do we have here? A snack for me? You shouldn't have." As he removed your bottoms, leaving you in your underwear, a slight moist patch formed due to the position you were in.

Sure, Vox was an entitled asshole, but god, did he look and sound incredible when he was being mean and bossy. How could you not get aroused, especially when his face and long tongue ass were so close to your intimate parts.

"You want me to play with you, darling?" Vox asked in a manner that almost made it feel like you had a choice. There was something about it that suggested he might respect your decision if you said no—sure, he wouldn't like it, but he definitely had this thing where he wanted you to want him, to beg for him, to need him. Forcing himself on you wouldn't align with that desire.

You nodded, but he tutted at you, wanting a verbal answer. "No, no, no, it's 'Could you please, sir?' or 'Would love to, Mr. Vox,' or 'Please, I need you, Vox.' You've got to speak up if you want me to do anything to you, got it, dollface?" he clarified, emphasizing the importance of explicit consent, whether it was due to genuine respect for your boundaries or just his enjoyment of your yearning for him, it was a bit unclear. However, knowing Vox, he probably just got off on your embarrassment.

"Yes, sir," you said, feeling embarrassed. "So? Do you want me to give some love to these," he asked, tracing the outline of your underwear, "lovely parts?" He perked up.

"I would love for you to, sir," you managed to speak out. With a 'perfect' from your boss, he was now eagerly devouring you with his tongue, sending small pleasurable shocks through you as he did. No part of you down there was left un-licked.

Just as you were about to reach that sweet, sweet release — Vox removed himself from you, causing you to whine at the loss of pleasure.

"Don't worry," he said, but before you could complain too much, Vox lifted you up and threw you onto the couch, your face soon hitting the satin pillows. As you heard the sound of his belt unbuckling, you felt your hips being repositioned, leaving you face down and ass up.

Vox quickly pumped his cock a few times, not needing much as it was already hard from the sight of you writhing due to his tongue. Getting close to your ear, he whispered, "Cuz I'm not done with you, dollface."

Then he promptly shoved himself inside of you. Thankfully, whatever he was doing with his tongue a couple of instances ago had prepped you, because, woof, did the stretch sting.

After giving you a few moments to adjust, he began pounding you into tomorrow, playing with your front and sending small shocks here and there. With no regard for his colleagues sitting right beside him —or should I say colleague, as in singular—Velvette had left as soon as he began working you with his tongue. However, Valentino remained, watching the scene unfold with keen interest.

Your soon came undone due to his rough ministrations, but he was far from done with you...

⫘⫘⫘ Ownership, ⛌⛌⛌ Humiliation & Collar

If you haven't already figured it out yet, Vox is a sadist. He thoroughly enjoys power dynamics and the act of humiliating others.

Continuing from the previous headcanon, picture yourself as either hired as his secretary or as a low-ranking demon in his company who catches his eye. If you're the latter, he'll undoubtedly arrange for you to be transferred to work closer to him.

But anyway, my point is, as soon as you're in his close proximity, he'll literally makes you his bitch on call in the blink of an eye. And obviously, you can't refuse because, one, he's your boss; two, he's an overlord; and three, he's Vox.

Who would refuse that hunk? Even if you weren't initially attracted to him, you'd find yourself becoming so after a couple of weeks, even if it's just some weird mild attraction—you're still into him.

Once he's got you in his grasp and has fucked you at least once, this is when he begins to play with you. He'll make you start wearing a vibrator under your clothes at work, ordering you to remove your clothing every morning and show him, to ensure you did it. Then he'd send you on your merry way.

If he wasn't physically with you, he'd be watching you through his cameras.

And every time you would be talking to someone and he deemed it too long, you weren't paying attention to him, or you were zoning out/getting distracted, he would turn the vibrator on to 'get you back on track'.

Though he did like to sometimes turn the vibrator on just to tease you. For example, you're in the middle of telling him about a shift in his appointment in a room full of people, and he would suddenly turn it on to fuck with you.

He also has a huge thing for pulling you by your soul chain. He just loves, loves, loves summoning it out of nowhere and just tugging you along with it.

For instance, you could be telling him about some issue concerning a recent project, and he would tell you to come closer so he could hear better.

As you walk closer towards his desk, he deems your pace too slow. Without warning, he summons and tugs at the chain around your neck, causing you to fall to the ground.

In an attempt to brace the fall, you put your arms out, catching yourself and ending up on all fours.

But as you try to get up, he would tut at you, ordering you to “Crawl to me.” You’re humiliated, but you still do it as he watches you like a hawk, a satisfied grin on his face.

If you also happen to scrape or bruise yourself when you fell and some small tears form in your eyes, let me tell you, he would get so bricked up as soon as he noticed them.

And of course, he would make you blow him, though it would end up with him face-fucking you, as it usually did.

He would also hold your head down as he dumped his cum down your throat, then he would pull your nose with his free hand, saying that “you don’t get to breathe until you’ve swallowed it all.” And of course, you would do it because you don’t want to literally choke to death on your boss’s dick.

Once he was sure you had swallowed it all, he would finally release you, allowing you to take some air in. Then he would make you stick out your tongue, and he would spit in your mouth, making you swallow that too.

𐂯 Training

He liked using small electrical charges as a ‘training method’, and this method has two stages. This would happen after he already had you as his personal toy— I mean, ‘secretary’.

At first, he uses electricity to reprimand you whenever you weren’t paying attention to him, questioned him, said no to things, or did anything that he considered as bad behaviour.

He would shock you, making you associate ‘bad behavior’ with pain, so you would end up automatically correct yourself before you even do or say something.

If you take a bit too long to ‘adjust’ to this new way of acting, he might resort to a little bit of hypnosis, but he would prefer not to.

He gets off on the fact that he can train you to behave just with his words and actions, without the help of any special ability.

Anyways, when he is sure that he has drilled into you what proper behavior is, he’ll employ phase two. He’ll start training you to enjoy the sting of his electricity.

So, whether he's fucking you, giving you head, touching you, or basically providing any sort of pleasure, every time you would be close to reaching your peak, he would send jolts of electricity through you, gradually increasing the dosage over time.

Things would get to the point that a small shock from him would be enough to get you turned on, and bigger shocks would be able to literally make you cum.

ฅ Pet

For the most part, he wouldn’t see secretary!reader as a partner. It’s only after a while, like a year or more, that he would start considering it.

He views them as his romantic interests, but not on his level. To keep face with the other Vees, even though they both knew about his crush from the beginning because he was so obvious with it, he would call you his pet.

Sometimes literal ‘pet names’ like puppy, kitty, bunny, etc. (Personally, I would love for him to call him his bunny <3.)

What he calls you all depends on your appearance and behaviors. For example, if you manifested with a more feline appearance, he would call you his kitten or kitty. If you didn’t have animal-like features but for example, were very needy, had a tendency to follow around, and were a sucker for praise, he would likely call you his puppy.

𓌏 Punishments

Besides using electric shocks, he is definitely into spanking as a form of punishment—whether it involves pulling down your pants or lifting your skirt, spanking you for every ‘transgression’ you’ve committed is something he’s totally down for.

It can be a really strange experience if you weren't a masochist to begin with because he'll end up having you conditioned to enjoy physical punishments;

For example, he would be spanking you, and you find yourself getting turned on, arousal literally leaking due to his rough treatment of your behind.

Edging and overstimulation are also big in his book, though each has its own set of circumstances where they would be implemented.

For instance, if you weren't paying attention to him because of someone else, he would overstimulate you to the point where you couldn't think about anyone but him, asserting his superiority over whoever had your attention.

If you weren't paying attention for any other reason, he would edge you, because ‘how dare you ignore him when he should be the most important to you!’.

Thanks anons for requesting!

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woso-lover234 · 1 month

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Can you do a fic where r and kyra get into this huge argument calling themselves names etc abd throwing a few punchs at each other until the other mitlidas had to come and sperate both of them and they both ignore each other until the team forces them to talk it out and kyra would be like no she doesn't want to talk to miss so called prefect" because she overheard others talking about how r was way mature than her and other stuff

Matildas + kcc x (platonic) reader- fights

you and Kyra were like two peas in a pod. always together with Charli, mini and harper causing trouble together and you stopping her from taking pranks too far so she doesn't get into trouble. Your Matildas and Arsenal teammates often joke that even though your the younger of the pair of you were more mature which wouldn't be a lie but it worked for the two of you with you're similar yet not clashing personalities. She made your life more interesting and you made sure she didn't get into too much trouble as she didn't think fully before she did stuff when you did. You knew of the jokes shared and honestly you were fine with them, they were harmless anyways.

"What is your problem?" You asked sitting next to Kyra at breakfast as she had been ignoring you the whole morning but she just stood up with her food tray and storming out of the room without a second glance. All of your team mates eyes were on you now with questioning looks which you just shrugged with confusion and anger written all over your face before you continued eating.

Before training the two or you ran into each other again which was bound to happen since you guys were room mates.

"Watch it" Kyra said shoving past you to get to the bathroom as you looked at her in shock before shoving her. You knew it was childish but you were sick of her shit and weren't gonna take it anymore. She turned around after she caught her balance and glared at you as you crossed your arms over your chest and glared back

"Seriously what is your problem with me today?" You asked raising your hands up before slapping them against your sides in frustration

"if your so much smarter than me then you would know" she shot back and that left you confused but your frustration and anger overpowered that as you said something you will come to regret later

"Well if you worried about the so called people you called your family and not just yourself you would realise I didn't know and that your making a big deal out of nothing" you practically screamed but her demeanour didn't stutter as she still looked at you with venom in her eyes

"Acting as if you didn't know" she scoffed "I'm sorry not everyone has to try be perfect to get people's attention! Just because your parents were hard on you and you had to be fight for their attention doesn't mean you have to outshine everyone else and make everyone look bad just to get over your mummy and daddy issues! She yelled as you stood there. She knew she had hit a nerve with that one as she smirked to herself and you lost it and launched at her. You were pulling her hair as she was trying to shove you off of her but you didn't let go as the two of you rolled around on the floor and bumped into multiple things which caught the attention of wandering Matilda's.

"Get off of me!" Kyra yelled at you as she again tried to shove you off

"No!" You yelled back in her face as she went to push you back but instead ended up hitting you in the face which angered you and caused you to punch her back which then turned into a slight boxing match as the two of you continued to roll around on the floor alternating who was on the bottom and receiving the punches while the person on top tried to stay there.

Eventually Sam and Steph came in followed by mini, Caitlin, Alanna and charli who separated the two of you. Sam and Caitlin pulled you off of Kyra as you tried to fight out of their grasp as Alanna and macca grabbed Kyra. Once the both of you realized you weren't getting released the both of yous flopped in the designated older girls grip as mini looked between the two of you with a shocked expression and waiting for one of you to talk. You avoided eternally contact not wanting to explain what had happened which mini caught onto

"One of you better start explaining or so help me" she started as neither you or Kyra started or had the intention of talking about what happened. "By the end of dinner tonight this better be sorted because there is a game this weekend and I'm not letting this get in the way of yours and your team mates performances and if it isn't I will make sure you's don't play" mini finished as Steph and Sam nodded along in agreement while both you and Kyra nodded before being let go as you bolted to the door to go have your own space to go over what had just happened.

You and Kyra avoided each other for the rest of the day until dinner where Steph and Sam forced you two to sit at a table together with each other and the captain and co captain and by then you could see the big bruise coming in on her cheek as you smiled to yourself slightly but quickly wiped it off your face when you saw mini giving you a 'really?' look from the table next to you.

"Ok Kyra explain" Sam said looking to Kyra expectantly

"No I don't want to speak to miss perfect" Kyra scoffed as your rolled your eyes

"What does that even mean?" You asked over the fight and just wanting to be joking with your best friend again

"It means I'm sick of being second best to you! Everyone thinks so!" She finally made eye contact with you and Steph and Sam held guilty looks

"You're not second best to me we're equal" you said with a sincere eye which made Kyra feel bad considering she could barely see the other one due to swelling and a forming bruise.

"Nah I'm obviously the better fighter" she said in a joking voice as you laughed loudly which caught the attention of most of the girls in the dining room

"You guys all good then?" Caitlin asked from another table as you looked at her and nodded as she now held a shocked expression "Damn y/n/n that's quite the shiner you got there" she said as you laughed slightly and rolled your eye before turning back to Kyra who held a guilty face but before she could talk Sam and Steph had beaten her to it

"We're really sorry guys" Sam said as Steph nodded

"This is all our fault" Steph said looking down "me and Sam were talking in the locker room before breakfast today about the under 21's young player of the year nominations and we're saying how y/n/n would be perfect for it she was we didn't mean for it to sound different" she said as you and Myra shared a look before reassuring them it was ok and that if you guys had communicated better none of this probably wouldn't of happened which caused all of you to laugh

"You guys are like siblings at this point. Ignoring each other when something has happened, fist fights and making up like nothing happened" mini said as she walked past to put her dinner plate away and ruffle both yours and Kyra's hair up which you both shook off which again made everyone laughed at your same reaction "but that can't happen again" she said sternly as you both nodded "at least not to that extent, siblings are allowed to fight sometimes" she added with a wink before walking away.

"I'm sorry about your eye" Kyra said later that night as you both got ready for bed

"It's ok I'm sorry about your cheek" you said as you both laughed again and hugged it out before heading to bed.

You couldn't play the game that week due to your eye but neither could Kyra who had insisted that she shouldn't play considering it was her fault you were off. The team ended up winning 3-0 at the first game against Uzbekistan as you prepared for the second game which you made sure you would be able to play.

#matildas #woso imagine #woso #caitlin foord #katrina gorry #steph catley #kyra cooney cross #charli grant #woso fanfics #arsenal #mackenzie arnold #alanna kennedy

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lokischocolatefountain · 4 months

Text

Holdout || Fraternize

Congressman!Javier Peña AU

Fandom: Narcos

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Rating: 18+

Warnings: smut, fingering, arguments, period typical misogyny, American politics, inappropriate workplace behavior, office sex, kinda fem!dom, discussions of healthcare policy, inaccuracies regarding American politics

Word count: 4.5k

Summary: Sometimes it was better to talk face to face than to send his lackeys to speak for him. And who knows? Maybe he’ll get a sweet deal out of it. If nothing else, she was at least a good time.

A/N: I know Javi has nothing but disdain for politics and politicians. He would’ve pushed those DC guys out of the helicopter in season 3 if they’d asked more stupid questions. But it’s the same season 3 Javi who put in all those suits and ties and combed his hair neatly and walked around looking like a WHORE. So it’s actually his fault that I’m writing him as a politician. As usual, give your girl some comments and reblogs 🥹🥹🥹

Tagging: @art-estrange

“How many holdouts, Donna?”

“Thirteen.”

“Fuck,” he whispered, knowing instantly from the number which faction of congresspeople had refused to agree to vote for the bill. He also knew who the ringleader of this group of thirteen was. Without her approval, the other twelve wouldn’t even breathe let alone vote yes. An abstinence, maybe. But a yes? Impossible. She was also one of the few who could reach across the aisle to get them the votes he and Murphy needed to pass the bill in Congress.

“What exactly does she want?”

“Bunch of stuff,” said Donna, flipping open the binder that contained the draft of the Child Health Assistance Program bill. From his seat, Javier could see the color coded remarks that decorated the pages. Only when it went to her office did it come back with the fucking rainbow splattered in the pages. When he was a freshman to congress, the outgoing congressman from his district had warned him about her.

Difficult. Nerdy. Pretentious. A fucking bitch. An absolute cunt.

He would never say the last two things about her, of course. If he so much as thought them, his mama would fly to DC and slap him.

“The premium increase on Medicaid for one. She thinks it’s too much. Did some math on the side, too,” she said, unfolding a sticky note that contained some scribbled out numbers. “She accounted for the average household income nationally and in her district and adjusted for projected inflation and arrived at an increase by 3% on the financial burden on families. She made a calculation for our district, too. And by Stoddard’s calculations, her estimate is accurate.”

“Right, right,” he said, taking a puff of his cigarette and blowing the smoke out towards the open window. “Has anyone told her that healthcare expenses have increased and we cannot afford to keep the Part B premiums at forty four fucking dollars?”

His staffer simply shrugged before beginning to explain all the other demands the congresswoman from West Virginia had. By the time they were through with the major issues, it was time for lunch.

“Try to get Barrett and Kilpatrick on board,” he said, getting up from his seat at the head of the table. He heard her grumble, but didn’t take it too personally. It would be easier to move a boulder up a hill than to convince anyone in the congresswoman’s faction to vote for something she didn’t vote for. He pressed the stub harder into his glass ashtray, his anger towards her manifesting in the present she got him.

“Yes, sir,” she said, marking the page they’d last discussed. His staffers shuffled out of their seats and out of the office, leaving him with just Donna.

“I hear she’s back in the building. Returned from her district last night. Maybe you can convince her?” She said expectantly. Out of all the people in his office, she was the only one who knew that he had a shot. No matter how narrow the possibilities. Fair’s fair, he thought. Since he tasked her with talking to Kilpatrick and Barrett.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “No harm in trying.” He would’ve laughed had someone else said that. There definitely was harm in trying. His sanity was at stake. He had a hard enough time just seeing her at the committee meetings. But if he couldn’t get members of his own party on board, he could bid goodbye to the dream of passing the bill.

He picked up the binder and sped through the hallways to her office, anxious she might leave for lunch. She usually didn’t, but made exceptions for when she met with her campaign team. Something about it being unethical to do campaign business in facilities paid for by the taxpayer. And illegal. Like him, she was a workaholic. If she wasn’t in her office, she was in her congressional district.

He stopped outside the double doors to her office, American flags on either side and a nameplate with her name and state written in gold. Right as he rose his fist to knock for courtesy’s sake, the door opened and a lanky young boy stepped out of her office, sandwich in hand. Intern.

“Is the congresswoman in?” He asked, making the boy jump back in surprise.

“Uhh…” the boy trailed, looking back at the door with wide eyes. So she was in. And the kid didn’t know whether he was one of the people to whom he should lie about his boss’ availability.

“She’s…busy?”

Javi snorted before putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder and gently nudging him away from the door. “Enjoy lunch, kid,” he said before slipping into her office. The boy said something in an effort to stop him, but the door thankfully muffled the sounds. He kicked the door with the deadbolt, eager to not get caught. Nothing interesting ever happened in congress. So the first wisp of smoke would be enough for gossips to start a fire. He walked past the front office with the plush couches for guests and right into the inside where the magic happened.

Sure enough, he found her hunched over her desk, punching numbers into a calculator with her left hand as her right scribbled them out on her notebook. The black high heeled shoes she wore pushed her ass out invitingly. His eyes trailed up the shoes, following the black lines of her stockings. He took a deep breath and turned away, his eyes landing on one of her staffers’ desks.

A carton box with sandwiches from the nearby cafeteria sat open, mostly empty but for three sandwiches wrapped in aluminum foil. He wasn’t planning on lunch, but he wouldn’t decline after seeing some perfectly good sandwiches laid out in front of him.

“Get your own, Peña,” came a cold, stern voice right as he touched one.

“I would, but you owe me sustenance for making me read through all your notes. I need more nutrients to keep up with your shit,” he said, unwrapping the foil. He took a bite, nodding appreciatively as the well seasoned meat and garlic mayonnaise touched his tongue.

She put her pen down and turned around to finally face him. She looked well put together as she always did. A navy blue pinstriped skirt that clung to her beautifully, matching the jacket draped over her chair. Her white blouse was tucked in, her hair up in a neat bun to show off her pearl earrings. She placed a hand on her hip, crossed one leg in front of the other and narrowed her eyes at him. “It’s not my fault that your diet of whiskey and cigarettes doesn’t nourish you enough to read some notes on your poorly drafted bill.”

“It’s called a draft for a reason, Glitter,” he scoffed, his lips curving up in a smirk as he used her nickname against her. He knew she hated it. He wasn’t even in congress for the origin of the nickname, but it took only days for him to learn that the Congresswoman from West Virginia had “accidentally” used a glitter pen to write notes on the final draft of a bill. Sure she changed the pen after she realized. Only one word was in the imbecilic ink, but the name stuck.

“I forgot that your standards are low.” She rolled her eyes and folded her arms over her chest. “What do you want now, Peña? Is it just the sandwich? I knew you had a tight budget over in the 23rd district of Texas, but I didn’t know the situation was so dire even the congressman had to mooch off someone else.”

“I already paid for it. With my soul.” He took another bite of the sandwich, unaffected by her jabs. As he chewed on his free lunch, he slapped a hand on the binder he abandoned on a staffer’s desk.

“We need to discuss your ridiculous demands.”

“I don’t see how asking to restore coverage for disabled children counts as ridiculous.” She leaned back against her desk and placed her palms flat against the surface. “Unless you hate children. Disabled children.”

“You’ve been in D.C. too long,” he said, annoyed by her spin. “And it’s not like I slashed the funding for disabled kids. They did. Don’t fight me for shit I didn’t do. And it’s not like they would’ve changed their minds by now. None of them have grown a conscience all of a sudden. They’ll just laugh us out of their office.”

“Peña, are you proposing the child health program for the children or the fucking pricks in the House who think it’s a waste of money to invest in healthcare?”

“To invest in healthcare, we need to get the bill passed. Would you rather get some coverage for kids or none?”

“Obviously, I would like some. But some or none aren’t the only options. If you’re going to cut out necessary things preemptively, we’ll get even less than what we need by the time we’re done negotiating with them.”

He darted his tongue out, licking his lips as he considered her words. They did not differ much ideologically. He too was an idealist like her. The people of his district voted him in for his ideals, for his promises. But D.C. had a way of making cynics out of optimists. It was easier for her to remain an idealist. There was no real threat to her seat.

“We don’t have an unlimited budget. It’s going to be a pain in the fucking ass trying to get this through. I put the shit you’re asking for and we can forget getting any coverage. Just like your demand to expand benefits for low income folks. If we do what you’re suggesting, it’ll be an expenditure of 3 Billion dollars over five years instead of the 1.5 billion we have available.”

She sighed and leapt up, sitting herself down on her desk. “Listen, Peña. I know you’re holding on to your seat by a thread because your margin of victory was thinner than said thread. You need to schmooze the conservatives back in Webb County. But I refuse to pay with the health of my people so you can keep your job.”

He fist clenched at the accusation and he let out a grunt. “Easy for you to say. Your district would vote for a fucking donkey if it had our party’s name slapped on it.”

It wasn’t so easy for him. Every move he made was like walking a tightrope between doing the right thing and what his constituents thought politically correct. One wrong move and they’d be out there on CNN calling him a fucking commie. Not that it bothered him. It just wasn’t good optics.

She held her pen up like it was a sword, like a threat. “They’ve tried to primary me multiple times, asshole. Never worked. I do the work and people vote me in for it.

“Listen. You wanna talk shit or actually work on this thing so we can get it passed?”

“I did my part, Peña. Thought you read through it since you’re claiming to be so exhausted.”

“It’s not gonna work sending it back and forth. Never does. We need to sit together and sort it out.”

“Right…” she drawled, her pink painted lips curling up in a smirk and her eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint. He huffed, knowing immediately what she was smirking about. He licked his lips and let himself think of what they did the last time they decided they would sit together and ‘sort it out’.

“You know I didn’t mean that,” he said, the words tasting bitter on his lips. He didn’t mean that. But he would never refuse an opportunity to do it again.

“Oh?” She teased, an eyebrow raised.

A carefully manicured fingernail dazzled under the light as she used her pointer finger to beckon him forward. He stepped towards her, his feet moving automatically like his cock remembered how he would be rewarded if he complied with her. Eyes connected to hers, he imagined what she looked like under her suit. If he would be able to catch even a glimpse of her body this time. If he would have to reach under her skirt, rip her stockings and push her panties aside to fuck her.

He loved knocking the smirk off her lips the last time, just the sight of her pliant against his chest giving him all the satisfaction he needed even before he came. She wasn’t arguing then. Just sweet little whimpers as she clutched onto his shirt and begged for release.

Just as he could deal with the smirk by reaching her and capturing her lips in a kiss, she lifted her high heel clad foot and placed it on his pants. Over his fucking cock to be exact. He raised his eyebrows at her, confused by her move. She put a gentle pressure on his cock with her foot, making him swallow.

“The fuck are you playing at, Glitter?”

“Nothing,” she drawled in a low, seductive voice. “Just testing if you have a foot thing.”

He huffed and rolled his eyes. “I don’t fucking have a foot thing.”

“Yeah? Must be an ass thing then,” she said, lifting her leg higher and caressing his face with the top of her shoes. “Maybe it’s a shoe thing…” His breaths got quicker and his heart beat faster, his body enticed by her daring when she was usually quite conservative and no-nonsense. “You didn’t want me to take my shoes off last time. It was fucking uncomfortable. I know you like how my ass looks when I wear these.”

She trailed the pointy end of the heel down his neck, just barely touching his skin, driving him mad with want for more. The hairs on his body stood to attention and his cock twitched in his pants. She hooked the heel under his tie and pulled. When it budged only a little, he tugged on it himself, taking the thing off completely and stuffing it into his pocket.

Before she could retreat, he caught her leg. Hand wrapped around her ankle he placed a kiss above the strap of her shoes. He looked up at her, relishing in watching her confidence chip away bit by bit as he left a trail of kisses up her leg. A silent gasp left her lips as he stopped at the edge of her desk and put her leg over his shoulder.

“You up for a meeting? To discuss,” he said, tilting her head up with a finger to her chin.

A soft smile played on her lips as she said, “We’ll see…”

“Yeah? What exactly do I have to do to get you in my office, Congresswoman?”

“Convince me. Give me something I’d want.”

“Everything’s a quid pro quo to you, isn’t it?”

“Such is politics, Peña.”

“If you say so,” he said, leaning close and kissing her neck right above the collar of her blouse. He felt her swallow, making him smile against her neck. The perfume he knew she spritzed on her neck seduced his senses and he licked her skin in a quest for his other senses to experience her delicious scent.

“Javier… Someone could come in at any time.”

Javier… It was always Peña for her. Except when they fucked. Then it was Javier, Javier, oh fuck please, harder! Once she fixed herself post fuck, it was back to Peña with a tinge of disdain. Like some crude separation of church and state.

“Everyone else knocks. I’m the only one who drops by without announcing myself,” he spoke into her skin, his voice a low drawl. “And I locked the door. Because I know you can’t resist me.” She snorted, but relaxed beneath his touch. Her hand came up to his hair, touching him oh so lightly in a way that she wouldn’t mess it up too much.

“Fucking caveman,” she chided, her voice too warm for him to believe she opposed his behavior. He trailed a hand up her skirt, stopping where her thighs met. He cupped her pussy, his eyes fixed on her face to read signs of displeasure.

“Congresswoman, I just kissed up your leg like you’re a delicate fucking princess. A caveman would rip your clothes up, hold you down and fuck you hard,” he said, feeling proud of himself when he felt her pussy react to it under his hand.

“Guess you have a caveman thing,” he mocked, leaving her no time to respond before grabbing her stockings and ripping it in his hand. She shrieked and grabbed on to his shoulders to steady herself.

“That’s the second pair you’ve ruined, asshole.”

“I wouldn’t have to ruin your stockings if you just took your clothes off and bent over the desk.”

“Oh fuck you,” she laughed, letting out a little whimper when he pushed her panties aside and found her clit.

“I will, Congresswoman,” he said in a soft voice as he rolled her nub under his thumb. Her hand traversed his back, feeling the fabric of his suit and making him wish they had the time and privacy for him to take his clothes off. Feel her bare hand on his back and let her leave scratches as he took his time to get her across the finish line.

“You address everyone by their designation when you fuck them, Javier?” She rocked up against him, her chest flush against his as she searched for her pleasure under his thumb.

It felt so fucking good though she wasn’t doing anything to him, to have his mouthy, disagreeable colleague in the palm of his hand. To play her like an instrument. Have her spinning in her head for a second longer before her snarky retorts left her lips.

“No, just the infuriating, fuckable Congresswomen,” he joked, getting a shove to his chest. He didn’t budge, having prepared himself for the attack since he anticipated it.

“You tease all the men you fuck in your office with your shoe?”

“No, only the ugly ones,” she said, laughing. He smiled, happy with her giving it to him as good as she got. They were close, so close he could feel her warm breath against his skin.

“Asshole,” he whispered against her lips before closing the gap between them. She looped one arm around his neck and allowed her other hand to play with his suit lapel. Her lips were soft, contrasting the sharp words they often spoke to him. A sense of calm settled in his chest as she slipped her hand under his jacket. He felt her hand now, caressing him up and down, making him long to know what she would feel like against his skin.

Spurred by the thought, his hand rubbed her more enthusiastically. She whimpered into the kiss and he took the chance to slip his tongue between her lips. Her hand traveled up his shirt and clutched his collar, her thumb slipping under his shirt and touching his neck. He moaned and quickly felt her smirk against his lips.

Unwilling to give her the upper hand, he grabbed her panties and tugged, making the frail fabric rip in his hand.

“What the fuck, Javier!?”

“Shh…”

Unobstructed by her panties, he was free to let his hand do two things at once. He parted her pussy lips and pushed a finger inside her, her warm wetness inviting him in easily. He added another finger and coated himself in her slick.

She gasped as he returned his thumb to her clit, making him smile smugly. He pulled away so she could see him. So she could see the power he wielded over her.

“You’re much nicer like this, Congresswoman.”

“And you are more of a dickhead somehow,” she said, grabbing his cock through his pants. When she began stroking his length, he drew a sharp breath.

“Why wouldn’t I? You get wetter when I’m a dick to you. You get like this when we’re talking business too?”

“Of course not, assface.” She gritted her teeth and grabbed him harder, making him grunt.

“Maybe I should check the next time we’re yelling at each other in the middle of the hallway. Reach under your skirt and find your wet panties.”

Her grip on him got harder and her eyes narrowed at him, but her pussy clenched around his fingers. “See, you like it.”

“You’ll see what I like and don’t like when I break your little prick, Peña.”

“Thought I was Javier when I’m fucking you.”

“You thought wrong,” she said, squeezing his cock again.

He yelped, the pressure getting too much even through his pants.

“Fuck!”

“Yeah. Fuck,” she snarked, releasing him only to snake around to his behind and grab a cheek.

“Get it done quick. Unlike you, I have things to do after this.”

“Oh yeah? Maybe I should go now. Can’t keep the Congresswoman from doing the best for her constituents,” he mocked, pulling away from her.

She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him back, trapping him in place with them. “Finish the fucking job,” she spoke, a serious expression overtaking her features.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he said, keeping up the pace of his thrust. He found her neck with his lips, placing sweet kisses on her skin. So close to her, he could feel the effect of every touch, every kiss. He locked the responses in his mind, ready to use the information for the next time he found himself with his hand up her skirt.

“The other side, Javier…” she breathed her command and he followed, eliciting a moan from her.

“Just like that… Keep going.” She thrusted back into his fingers, taking her pleasure from him eagerly. Every now and then, she issued a new command. When he obeyed, she rewarded him with sweet sounds of her pleasure.

As he brought her closer, she gripped his fingers tighter. Her eyes glazed over and she stopped giving instructions, only enjoying the fruits of his compliance with her earlier ones. She leaned against his shoulder, placing some of her weight on him. Being the sucker he was for beautiful women in the throes of pleasure, he placed a kiss on her head and cradled the back of her neck with his free hand.

“Come on, come for me…” he said softly when he felt her at the edge of the precipice.

“F-fucking make me, fucker,” she cursed, mewling when he changed the angle of his fingers to add a twist to his touches.

“Will you give me a meeting in exchange then? We could work it over together…” he negotiated with no shame whatsoever. It was a shameless business, politics.

She opened and closed her mouth several times, unable to let out anything other than a breath as he assaulted her senses mercilessly. She shook her head in denial, making him smile at her defiance.

She panted as he wore her out, her chest heaving and her eyes rolled back. The hand gripping his lapel grew weak and she went limp against him. With a low moan, she came around his fingers and collapsed against him. He kept his fingers inside her, not having the heart to kiss out on how her pussy spasmed around them as she recovered from the high he brought her.

She lifted her head off his chest and dropped her legs, freeing him from her prison.

“You’re not getting a meeting in exchange for fingering me, Peña.”

“What does a man have to do then? Fuck you in the ass? Cause I’ll do it,” he said, laughing when she shoved at his chest weakly. He pulled out finally and took a step back before grabbing his handkerchief and wiping his fingers clean of her release. She hopped off her desk and pulled out her handkerchief from her purse. She unfolded the white cloth embroidered with flowers and leaves and dipped a corner in her glass of water.

He raised an eyebrow at her when she turned back around to offer it to him.

“You have lipstick on your face.”

“Ah.”

“Where?” He asked, accepting the cloth from her.

“Right there. On your neck,” she said, pointing vaguely at his neck. He swiped where he guessed the lipstick mark was and looked up at her, asking silently if he got it.

She shook her head and reached back into her purse. She offered him a black circular box- a makeup thing he knew had a mirror in it.

“Thanks,” he said and pried it open.

“Who are you expecting to vote for this from the other side?” She asked as she adjusted her clothes and reapplied her lipstick. He wiped off the traces of her from his neck and lips. He closed the box, careful not to spill the powder inside.

“Hayworth, Calvert, Cunningham, Doolittle. Rohrabacher would do it, but it’ll require a lot of negotiation. Chenoweth would find the bill agreeable, but it’s unlikely that she’ll vote for it,” he said, a little disappointed that she was talking business even though that was why he came over.

“Yeah. She has a poor record on bipartisanship. Is Evans on board? Cause he’s pretty close to Porter and he can convince him to come aboard.”

“I think he will. Stoddard is talking to Evans’ people and it seems he’s content.”

“Alright,” she said, nodding. “I don’t have time for this shit, but it needs to be done. Surely your buddy on the other side can convince a lot more people to sign on. If he isn’t confident, there’s no point in us discussing this further.”

“Murphy’s got a list. He’s still in talks with them.”

“He’s still in talks? Motherfucker, why did you waste my time then? Could’ve waited for his chipped down draft before you sent a copy to my office.”

Because as much as I fucking hate you, I respect your intelligence. I respect that DC’s cynicism hasn’t turned you away from your ideologies.

But that wasn’t what he said. That wasn’t how this partnership worked. Political alliance didn’t equal friendship. Hell, Murphy wasn’t his political ally. He was on the other side. Yet they were friends.

“Mhmm. I had it sent to you so early on ‘cause I know you’re the hardest to please.”

“Well,” she said, mischief playing at the corners of her lips. She walked behind her desk and sat back down. “You pleased me okay today. I could do without all the yapping building up to the act, though. Really sucks the fun out of it, hearing your stupid voice.”

“Asshole,” he mumbled, as he pocketed her handkerchief and retrieved his tie. She laughed, the sound eliciting a smile from him. He pressed his lips into a thin line as he busied himself tying his tie, loath to have her see him enjoy something so trivial.

“I’ll see you at the committee meeting then,” he said when he got his tie back on.

“Yeah, see you there to watch them slash programs so they can give tax cuts to their buddies.”

He snorted, agreeing with her. It drained him to sit in on the budget committee meetings. It was a high honor when he got assigned to such an important committee. Felt like a pat on the back for his hard work. Until he had to do the hard work of arguing against the fucking worst suggestions futilely. Nothing fucking mattered when they didn’t have majority. Yet, he argued. So did she.

“Pass me a sandwich on your way out, Peña.”

He picked one of the two remaining sandwiches. “Here you go,” he said, making a throwing motion without tossing it. She reacted, throwing her hands up in the air to catch a sandwich that never came.

“Asshole,” she cursed, picking up her paperweight. Before she could throw it at him, he skipped away, another free sandwich in hand. As he closed the door to her office, he could’ve sworn he heard her giggle.

Main Masterlist

Guys, I’m so excited about how fun this could be. Javi in his suits. Angry Javi. Javi taking his tie off like in that one Narcos episode from season 3. Javi and reader having clandestine meetings under the guise of work. Maybe a sex scandal? Who know… Let me know what you think of Congressman!Javi and Congresswoman!Reader.

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olenvasynyt · 2 months

Text

“It seems like you’ve decided to fall in with two people without their homes of their own as well.”

I really need to talk about this, and the fight Feyre and Lucien have in ACOFAS in general because Feyre is so wildly frustrating during this whole conversation, and I want to delve into it line by line.

So this is when Lucien arrives for the Winter Solstice. Elain has left the room and the argument him and Feyre have begins with Feyre saying he should live in Velaris.

Chapter 18 of ACOFAS: “‘You could come live here, is all I’m saying,’ I pushed. ‘Truly live here, stay in Velaris for longer than a few days at a time. We could get you nicer quarters—‘ Lucien got to his feet. ‘I don’t need your charity.’”

First issue that isn’t a huge deal but “nicer quarters”? Not a home, just quarters, an allowance, a charity, as Lucien says here?

And it just keeps going downhill, because when he explains that he is getting along with Vassa and Jurian just fine, she is almost taken aback and shows a bit of jealousy. Her biases are really starting to show as well as her lack of self-awareness.

I rose as well. ‘But Jurian and Vassa’s is fine?’ ‘You’d be surprised to see how well the three of us get along.’ Friends, I realized. They had somehow become his friends. ‘So you would rather stay with them?’ ‘I’m not staying with them. The manor is ours.’” ‘Interesting.’ His golden eye whirred. ‘What is.’ Not feeling very festive at all, I said sharply, ‘That you now feel more comfortable with humans than with the High Fae. If you ask me—' ‘I’m not.’ ‘It seems like you’ve decided to fall in with two people without their homes of their own as well.’”

She lashes out and basically says that the Night Court isn’t Lucien’s home.

This part is so awful to me for multiple reasons. Now, there is the critique of Lucien having prejudices towards humans in ACOTAR. That is probably the only critique I will accept, he was an ass in the first book; the way he talked about humans negatively impacted Feyre. And this could be applied to Eyre’s side of this argument, Feyre could be like “huh you’re friends with humans now, that’s interesting. You always shat on humans before.”

But I do not think this can be applied to this argument because 1. Feyre, after her change to High Fae, is more comfortable with Fae than with humans, we can see this in ACOMAF, she does not like eating human food, she is hyperaware of all of the differences between being fae and being human.

and 2. Feyre and Lucien have had a conversation about the human war in ACOWAR. Lucien said he would have fought for the humans if he was alive during the War:

Chapter 3 of ACOWAR: “‘If you’d been alive for the War, would you have fought on their side? Or fought for the humans?’ ‘I would have been a part of the human-Fae alliance.’ ‘Even if your father wasn’t?’ ‘Especially if my father wasn’t.’”

Maybe he has had some prejudices against humans before but he does explain he would fight for their freedom, he talks about how he disliked their alliance with Hybern. I always viewed his comments on humans in the first book as him directing his anger and frustration with Feyre and not his idea of humans in general. He did not like Feyre for killing Andras and he had very little hope when it came to the curse. And after Lucien sends Feyre to capture the Suriel and almost gets her killed, he feels guilty and is also like “Feyre…I thought you would be more mad at me for this” and she is like “nah I get it, I killed your friend.”

Chapter 18 of ACOTAR: “‘You can’t possibly forgive me that easily for sending you into danger.’ ‘No. And part of me would like nothing more than to wallop you for your lack of warning about the Suriel. But I understand: I am a human who killed your friend, who now lives in your house, and you have to deal with me. I understand.’"

People shit on Lucien for that moment but this was when he finally realized who Feyre actually is. He realizes his mistake in judging Feyre and apologizes. And this is when their friendship starts to truly develop.

"‘Tam told me that your first shot was to save the Suriel’s life. Not your own.’ ‘It seemed like the right thing to do.’ The look he gave me was more contemplative than any he’d give me before. ‘I know far too many High Fae and lesser faeries who wouldn’t have seen it that way—or bothered.’”

And 3. also he met Vassa, Jurian and Feyre’s father and other humans during his mission to find Vassa and an army.

So him having past prejudices towards humans should not and is not Feyre’s issue with him being friends with Vassa and Jurian. Feyre does not bring that up to him or imply it in her inner dialogue. It seems like her issue is Lucien found friends outside of the Night Court.

“Friends, I realized. They had somehow become his friends. ‘So you would rather stay with them?’”

She almost sounds like she is jealous or confused. “You would rather stay with them and not with me and the IC?” It’s almost like she’s thinking “why don’t you love the IC and the Night Court as much as I do?” which is so ironic to me and lacking any self-awareness! You should know why he doesn’t like going to the NC, Feyre. He explains it after this moment in the conversation.

And I will get to that point later, I want to go in order because Feyre just keeps going downhill:

After Feyre implies that Lucien doesn’t have a home, Lucien then makes a boundary.

“Lucien stared at me, long and hard. ‘Happy Solstice to you, Feyre.’”

He is saying, “I am done with this conversation, I do not want to talk to you anymore, I am leaving.”

“He turned toward the foyer, but I grabbed his arm to halt him. The corded muscle of his forearm shirted beneath the fine silk of the sapphire jacket, but he made no move to shake me off. ‘I didn’t mean that. You have a home here. If you want it.’”

And Feyre does try to apologize and correct herself because she knows she was wrong for basically implying he doesn’t have a home but she is cutting over this line Lucien drew. You can tell Lucien does not like it when she grabs him and forces him to stop leaving.

He does not want to talk to her about this, and for good reason because when he is like “alright I will continue this conversation” and begins to explain to her the Band of Exiles, she interrupts him, dismisses him, makes fun of him.

“Lucien studied the sitting room, the foyer beyond and the dining room on its other side. ‘The Band of Exiles.’ ‘The what?’ ‘That’s what we call ourselves. The Band of Exiles.’ ‘You have a name for yourselves.’ I fought my incredulous tone. He nodded. ‘Jurian isn’t an exile.’ Vassa, yes. Lucien, two times over now. ‘He can call himself whatever he likes.’ But I asked, ‘and what, exactly, does this Band of Exiles plan to do? Host events? Organize party planning committees?’”

Frustration 1 with her saying, “what is the band of exiles planning to do? Organize party planning committees?” Two pages ago there was a whole conversation and inner dialogue about how there has been no governing in the southern human lands and that Vassa and Jurian have a vision for the future and want to change, they are planning to actually do something for the humans and the land you used to live in as a human.

“[Vassa and Jurian] both trying to lead the humans who occupied the sliver of land at the southernmost end of Prythian. Left ungoverned for so long. Far too long. “‘Mercifully, their vision for the future of the human territories is mostly aligned.’”

and frustration 2. He was trying to explain to you his genuine feelings and struggles!

“I made friends who have something in common with me, who appreciate me,” and she interrupts him and she makes fun of him for it! It sucks!

The Band of Exiles is a stupid name, I love Lucien but I do cringe whenever I hear that name. And they have always had this back-and-forth banter and crude jokes with each other, but this is a terrible moment to joke around because Lucien is trying to explain his feelings and his reasons, but she’s just being dismissive.

Also another point: her looking down at him for having a group name. She also has a group name with her friends. The Court of Dreams, the Inner Circle. And those aren’t any less cheesy, y'all, I’m sorry, I said it. 🤷‍♀️

Another thing that is so goddamn frustrating to me is he is like “these are all the reasons why I don’t like being in the Night Court.” 1. He can’t stand to be in the same room as Elain, he is upset that she is avoiding him. 2. He doesn’t like getting charity from her and Rhys. And 3. he also hates how Feyre and Rhys ruined his chance of going back to the Spring Court because of the way she used him to get revenge, and the way Rhys acted with Tamlin when he visits.

“‘I don’t have anywhere else to go. You ruined any chance I have of going back to Spring. Not to Tamlin, but to the court beyond his house. Everyone either believes the lies you spun or they believe me complicit in your deceit.’ ‘I can’t stand to be in the same room as [Elain] for more than two minutes. I can’t stand to be in this court and have your mate pay for the very clothes on my back…' ‘…Tamlin sent it to our manor yesterday. My clothes. My belongings. All of it.’”

And Feyre acknowledges this. But she doesn’t feel guilty despite seeing how upset it made Lucien, how it so negatively impacted him.

“‘But the blame for that behavior was not on Tamlin’s shoulders alone. I’d created that rift. Ripped it apart with my own two hands. I didn’t quite feel guilty enough to warrant apologizing for it. Not yet. Possibly not ever.”

She can still hold resentment towards Tamlin but why can’t she apologize for how it affects Lucien? I really dislike Feyre and Rhys because of this, and regardless of this making them look inconsiderate and thoughtless, I think this makes her and Rhys look like bad rulers. Lucien is like, "this affected me negatively, but it’s also going to affect you. And probably Prythian. This was a bad call on your part."

“‘Why?’ ‘Perhaps it had something to do with your mate’s visit the other day.’ ‘Rhys didn’t involve you in that.’ ‘He might as well have…your mate should have known better than to kick a downed male.’ ‘I can’t say I’m particularly sorry that he did.’ ‘You will need Tamlin as an ally before the dust has settled. Tread carefully.’ “I didn’t want to think about it, consider it, today. Any day.”

Feyre just dismisses it. She does not want to consider what Lucien is saying.

The one thing I will sort of applaud Feyre for is when she tells Elain that Lucien is a good male after he leaves.

“‘He brought you a present.’ ‘And that entitles him to my time, my affections?’ ‘No. But he is a good male.’ Despite our harsh words. Despite this Band of Exiles bullshit. ‘He cares for you.’”

However, she is lashing out at Elain because she’s frustrated with the conversation she just had and is upset that she was in the wrong.

“I know I wasn’t truly angry with her, not angry at anyone but myself, but I said, ‘You couldn’t say a single word to him? A pleasant greeting?’”

Feyre is misdirecting because she does not want to think about her mistakes.

I have some issues with Elain, it’s very true that she doesn’t owe anything to Lucien just because she’s his mate, I think it would be better for her to stop avoiding Lucien and actually say her feelings. But I’m talking about Feyre in this video, I can make a Lucien and Elain video later.

I don’t know, Feyre has really gone downhill for me after ACOWAR. You can still like her but I know I’m not the only one who dislikes her now and Feyre’s mistakes and biases and the way she hurts people cannot be ignored.

Idk what else to say besides Lucien. Deserves. Better.

#lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #anti feyre #anti rhysand #anti inner circle #lucien deserves better #tiktok video summary

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urgonnaneedabiggership · 11 months

Text

Perfume Regret

ExBoyfriend!Miguel O'Hara x FemReader

Summary: A fic inspired by Attention by Charlie Puth. Your ex-boyfriend Miguel O'Hara left you heartbroken and no matter how intense the effect he has on you still is, you're determined to use this party to get even.

Warnings: +18 meaning SMUT AND LANGUAGE MINORS DNI OR SO HELP ME GOD. Also there's angst and good old anger-fueled sex. The ending isn't heartbreaking don't worry.

Word count: 4K

I know that dress is karma

Perfume regret

Got me thinking 'bout when you were mine

Nightclubs had never been your scene.

While you weren't strictly averse to them, you didn't thrive in that element as much as some of your friends did. Yet, whenever you decided to make an appearance, it wasn't the stroboscopic lights, the promise of a few drinks with friends, or the energizing music that made the night worth it.

It was the hunt.

And the preparations began long before you even set foot out of your apartment, from the moment you stood in front of the mirror wearing nothing but a fluffy bathrobe, your face a blank canvas. Getting ready with your favorite, emboldening playlist was usually a luxury but not tonight. Judging by the way you struggled to apply eyeliner over your lids with such shaky hands, tonight, you were in dire need of a crushing amount of confidence.

So much so that a glass with one remaining sip of red wine stood next to your makeup bag, waiting for you to take that last bit of liquid courage.

Yes, the mere thought of the chase always made your chest swell with excitement. The stolen glances from across the dancefloor until someone gave in and tried to make contact. Loud music left people no choice but to hold conversations in loud whispers that tickled your ear. The desperate attempts to make themselves worthy of your time and the small concessions you made to make them feel like the most special person in that tiny, packed, overpriced club. Flirting was a tango meant for two, and not knowing what kind of partner you'd be dancing with was exhilarating.

Not this time, however, you thought as you picked up the glass and poured the remaining wine down your throat. Tonight you were after a much too familiar prey that you'd once been dumb enough to let get away.

As soon as you got the digital invitation to the Alchemax Innovation Department New Year's Eve party, you knew it was time to settle the score.

A short buzz coming from your phone interrupted your train of thought as the screen lit up with a text from whom you considered to be your work best friend, Liz.

Heyy :) u coming?

Yep. Be there in 20, is everybody there already?

O'Hara is missing. Idk if he's coming, though.

Oh.

You felt your stomach drop at the thought of all of this being for nothing. Whatever,. Who cared? You weren't doing this for him. You were doing it for yourself because you wanted to go out and have fun.

A weak smile tugged at your lips when you couldn't even convince yourself with that blatant lie. God, you felt like a terrible feminist at the moment. Screw you, Miguel O'Hara.

Those had been the last words you said to him before marching out of his apartment and slamming the door after you. Ever since that week during which he’d vanished from work with no explanation, your boyfriend had started to cancel your dates at the last minute or still be out at odd hours, and when he started to simply disappear and not answer your calls or texts several times throughout the day you began to worry.

When he asked if you could talk about something important, you figured you'd be getting an explanation, not dumped.

The reason, according to him? He was dealing with some personal issues that he could not tell you about, but he'd single-handedly decided it was in your best interest to just move on with your life, so he'd decided to break things off. His face when he said all of that remained engraved in your brain since that day. Cold. Logical. As devoid of any visceral emotion as a doctor would be when recommending you to give up carbs or red meat.

Two years of your life you'd given to him. You were planning to move in together. You were happy. For what felt like the very first time in your life, you were in love.

You took a deep breath to keep tears from running down your cheeks and ruining your mascara.

Even almost six months later, your heart painfully fluttered at the mention of his name.

Carefully, you dried your eyes with a piece of paper and took another deep, slow breath. Your eyes, beautifully framed by a smoky eyeshadow, slowly traced the reflection of your body in the mirror. A sleek, simple dress with a small slit on the side hugged your figure. You loved the color: a nearly black navy blue that matched your chosen makeup palette.

At the sound of your phone, your eyes drifted down to the lit-up screen.

Oh, nvm, he just got here.

The game was afoot.

As much as it hurt your pride to admit it, you were decidedly nervous as you made your way into the dimly lit nightclub, your eyes discreetly scanning the crowd in search of a particular set of brown eyes.

Suddenly, a voice made your face in the opposite direction.

"(Y/N)! Over here!" Liz called from the bar, waving at you with a huge smile that you returned as you walked towards her after wistfully looking at the busy crowd one last time. It wasn't until you reached the bar that you noticed she was sitting next to a man you didn't recognize.

"So, this is she," she nearly yelled right next to the man's ear when you got close enough to be heard above the deafening electronic beats.

"Hi, (Y/N), right?" He said, reaching out one hand, "I'm David. Liz has told me a lot about you,"

"Dave here just joined the team," Liz explained, giving his arm a gentle squeeze, "I thought it would be nice to make him feel welcomed. I'll leave you to it. I have to go say hi to a few people," She continued as she left the bar, not before giving you a certain look that made you realize you'd walked straight into a trap. While David was decidedly handsome, and you could've considered him to be your type under different circumstances, right then, your mind was somewhere else.

"Sure," You replied distractedly, "So why did you choose to work here?"

That should be enough to keep him talking for a while about his college education and how all he'd ever wanted to do was work for this company and so on while you focused on the matter at hand.

Where the hell was he?

Could it be that he'd just popped in to greet a few people and had left before you arrived? Before the countdown?

Maybe he was celebrating New Year's with somebody else?

"Sorry, one shot of tequila, please," You loudly called as the bartender walked past you.

"Make that two, thanks man," David added with a flirtatious smile that you returned out of politeness, mentally praying for Liz to come back soon, knowing damn well that if she'd done this on purpose, there'd be no way out of this conversation.

You downed the shot as soon as it was placed in front of you.

David asked you something, but his voice reached your ears as if he was underwater. For a minute, you wondered if such a small amount of alcohol could make you feel so dizzy until you realized it was something else. Your eyes had landed on the back of a familiar head. Brown, scruffy hair and a hearty laugh that had your hands shaking again as you placed the glass back on the wooden bar.

"God, I'm so sorry. My head's all over the place right now. You were saying?" You said, leaning closer to David.

"I asked if Alchemax tends to go easy on the new guys or kick them to the curb at the first mistake."

You laughed as if he'd just told an amazing joke, your eyes covertly going from his face to your target right behind him. At the sound of your laugh, his back stiffened, and you could see he was about to turn around. Right before he did, you quickly tore your eyes off him and glued them to David's face.

"Oh, don't worry, you'll be just fine. I'll tell you what, I'll look out for you. How's that sound?” You replied, a more relaxed smile plastered on your face. David's eyes lit up. Poor guy. He probably thought that out of nowhere, his luck had shifted.

Slowly and without losing the amused grin, you peeked over David's shoulder and found Miguel O'Hara's searing eyes staring right into yours. Unlike you, he wasn't smiling. Instead, he let those same calculating eyes unashamedly scrutinize every inch of your body that your gorgeous dress didn't cover and secretly fantasize about what it did.

Another loud laughter leaving your lips made him snap out of a trance-like state and look into your eyes. Hunting on grounds you were no stranger to had its advantages, such as knowing what to do and when. And so you didn't look away. You held his gaze, undaunted, as you took David's unfinished tequila and brought it up to your lips to take a sip, barely sticking out your tongue to slowly lick the last droplets off your lower lip. You mouthed an apology to the man before you as you walked away from the bar, both for the stolen tequila and for what was about to happen.

Trying your hardest not to smile or look at him, you made your way through the crowd straight toward Miguel, whose eyes you knew had remained with you since that intense visual exchange back at the bar. You felt them so intensely that you wondered if he could make you burst out in flames just by looking at you. You clenched your jaw as you got close enough for the scent of his enticing cedarwood cologne to fill your nostrils and travel all the way down to your chest, where your heart beat so strongly that it physically hurted.

You only had one shot. This was it.

It wasn't until you walked right past him that you finally acknowledged him, gifting him a faint smile as you stepped around him and walked toward the restrooms.

As soon as the door closed after you, you found the two stalls were empty. After confirming you were alone, a nervous grin took over your features. Biting your lip, you approached the mirror and distractedly began to comb your hair back in place and even retouched your nude lipstick, your eyes set on the reflection of the bathroom door.

Almost as if you'd timed it, the second you finished applying your makeup and threw it back into your purse, Miguel stealthily slid inside and shut the door after him.

A minute that felt like an eternity to him transcurred while you kept patiently tucking strands of hair behind your ears, concealing a smug grin. Something had to give. More often, sooner than later.

"Mind telling me what the fuck was that?"

His voice bounced off the walls and reached your ears like a once-favorite song you hadn't heard in months.

"What do you mean?" You calmly asked, never interrupting your task.

"(Y/N), stop that and look at me." He commanded, his patience wearing thinner by the second.

"I am looking at you," You nonchalantly replied, your eyes transfixed on his tense shape in the corner of the mirror as you slowly wiped some smudged lipstick off the edge of your bottom lip.

Outside, the one-minute countdown began. Neither of you could care less. Inside that dimly lit, empty nightclub bathroom, time was irrelevant.

In less than five steps, Miguel reached your side and, placing his hands on your shoulders, firmly spun you around to face him.

"Carajo, ¿Tú no entiendes, verdad?" He hissed, his next leaving his mouth after an ominous pause, "Now look at me."

Not happy with the way you were being handled, you shoved him away and shot him a glare with your arms folded before you.

"There, I'm looking. What do you want?"

"I want you to tell me who's that asshole and why you seem to think he's so damn funny,"

"I'm sorry, O'Hara, that's none of your business anymore, is it?" You spat out.

"It was none of my business,' He agreed, wincing at the dry use of his last name, "Until you showed up in here looking like that, laughing like a dumb teen at some guy's dumb jokes, making sure I'm watching after you did some pretty extensive research to make sure I was coming."

Wanting to rebuke that argument, you immediately opened your mouth just for him to interrupt you.

"What? You thought I wouldn't find out, bonita?"

Miguel started to move towards you without giving you a chance to explain yourself. Still, you weren't sure of what you would've said had you been given the time. Three seconds later, he was standing right before you, trapping you against the cold stone of the sinks.

"Why are you doing this?" He absentmindedly asked, as if he was actually questioning himself or already knew the answer. Before you could react, he suddenly leaned in, burying his face in your neck and taking a deep breath, taking in the scent of your perfume along with something else that you couldn’t perceive but seemed to pull him forward so violently that he had to use both his strong arms on either side of you to hold himself back. Still, he kept babbling against the soft skin of your neck, “I didn’t want to do it…I didn’t…I shouldn’t have…mi amor, I just wanted to protect you,”

“Protect me from what?” You asked in a breathy whisper, your self-control flaking when you felt him move even closer until your backside was pressed against the sink and your front...

You pressed your lips together to keep a noise that would be much too revealing from leaving your lips.

Still, you realized your trials and tribulations weren’t over when his hands slowly moved closer to your thighs until his thumbs were tracing faint circles on them.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asked in a hoarse voice before burying his nose behind your ear once more. You had to want him to stop. Before you could gather up the courage to tell him off as you should, you leaned forward and feverishly pressed your lips against his in a kiss that was all but sweet. Without breaking the kiss, in a display of both strength and coordination that was new to you, Miguel slid his hands under your thighs and lifted you effortlessly, placing you on top of the sink with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the way he nudged your legs out of the way so he could grind his lower half into yours. This time there was no way in hell you could contain your moans.

Pleased with the beautiful sounds he was eliciting from you, Miguel’s hands found their way back up to the thin straps of your dress, which he gently slid off from your shoulders before gripping your chin in his hand and tilting your head to the side so he could devour every inch of skin available, occasionally trapping it between his teeth to make sure it’d leave a mark. Even in your haze, you could notice there was something new to the way he was ravishing you. It was as if he was desperately trying to be gentle, to take things slow, just for something primal to take over and coerce him into taking you for himself.

Once again, you stopped thinking when he pressed the hard bulge in his pants against you, the friction over your barely clothed clit throwing all logical thoughts out the window.

“We don’t have much time,” You urged him, not even sure if he’d locked the door after himself. However, deep inside, you knew your motives had less to do with the little privacy and more with the way he unhurriedly worshipped your body and peppered kisses all over it, how his hands gently roamed it as if he was trying to commit every detail to memory. It reminded you of what you two had in a way that was still too painful to remember. You wouldn’t lose yourself to the memories of your past and miss out on how good he was making you feel right now. Tonight you weren’t two people deeply in love with one another trying to fight back the regrets of letting go of what was most precious to you, but two strangers about to fuck in the bathroom of a nightclub.

As if to reinforce that thought, he swiftly pushed you further back onto the sink and pushed your legs apart even more, your dress ridding up almost all the way to your waist. You shivered as new skin was exposed to both the cold beneath you and the heat from Miguel’s skin as he fumbled with the fly of his pants. Meanwhile, you kept yourself busy trying to unbutton his shirt with shaky hands and silently thanked he wasn’t wearing a jacket in the first place. You needed to get him out of as many clothes as possible in the little time you had, needing to feel more of his skin against yours.

Your desire wasn’t fulfilled until the shirt slid off his tan, broad shoulders, and you were pressed against his bare chest, his hands resting at the curve of your lower back as his head barely slid over your soaked slit, prying a raspy moan out of his throat that sounds almost painful. Still, even when you slid your hands around his shoulders and intertwined your fingers behind the nape of his head, he didn’t move further.

“What are you waiting for?” You breathlessly asked, arching your back towards him with a huff just for him to move his hips away, escaping your touch, trying to regain some control over himself.

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” He muttered. Shit. Not right now. Out of the whole night, he had to choose this precise moment? No. He hurt you. He owed you. And now it was his turn to shut up and take it.

Taking advantage of his low guard, you hooked your feet behind his back and roughly pulled him towards you, another needy moan escaping your lips as you felt him right at your entrance, whatever remaining reluctance keeping him from sinking into you. It took every ounce of willpower to keep yourself from begging.

“Alright,” He finally says, his hands sliding under your thighs to hold you firmly in place, “If this is what it takes for you to listen to me, bonita, así le vamos a hacer entonces.”

He accentuated his words by slamming into you and immediately picking up a maddeningly fast pace, the loud music outside hopefully drowning out your endless string of broken moans.

“I just…wanted you to be happy,” He spoke in a strained voice in between thrusts.

“Shut up,” You snapped at him. You were happy. And it did nothing but further enrage you to see he was unaware of how miserable you were now without him. Or maybe he was aware because he reached that spot that always made your legs uncontrollably quiver and focused all his energy on it as if he was trying to make up for everything.

“I love you,” He blurted out as he felt you clenching around his length, his hips stuttering for a second before the sigh that left your lips made him lift your leg further up his torso and slam into you with renewed fire, “God, (Y/N) I love you so much, I can’t do this anymore,”

“Shut up,” You sobbed, this time as a plead and not an order. Your heart fluttered as you heard the words you’d waited months to hear, and feeling him roughly stroke your walls at this new angle became too much for you to bear. A string of ‘shut ups’ and sounds that resembled his name left your lips as your hands fell to his stomach, trying to push him away while paradoxically needing him to be closer, needing to feel more of him just in case this was the last time you felt him stretch you out in a way you were hauntingly certain nobody else would ever come close to.

And he wasn’t doing any better. He wanted to pull your head against his chest and wrap his arms around you. He wanted to get on his knees and spend the rest of the night apologizing using his words or his tongue, whatever you wanted as long as you went home with him that night. He wanted you to live a happy, normal life. He couldn’t give you that anymore. Not after that night. Not after the accident.

But those bad thoughts melted away in his brain when he saw your eyes pressed shut, your beautiful, furrowed eyebrows arching over them perfectly as you chased that high that Miguel knew only he could give you. Something that sounded like an actual sentence left your lips so quietly that he had to lean closer to get it.

“What was that, bonita?”

You pressed your lips together, unwilling to repeat yourself until another perfectly calculated thrust pried the half-coherent words out of your mouth.

“Need you…inside. Please, Miguel, please,”

Hearing his name being called out like that for the first time in months was all he needed to come undone, his pace faltering as he pressed himself against you, strong arms gripping your waist as he spilled his load inside you with one last labored moan.

Nothing but extenuated pants could be heard inside the bathroom for a whole, tense minute before you finally moved, taking a few sheets of paper from the dispenser next to the sinks to clean yourself up.

“What are you doing?” He asked as you straightened your dress and tried to somehow fix your disheveled hair.

“You wanted to apologize, you did, and I forgive you,” You categorically answered, “But don’t expect me to come running back into your arms as if what you did was nothing,”

Still, you needed him to know there was hope left for the both of you. So you pressed a chaste kiss to his lips and then his cheek, granting yourself one moment of vulnerability as you looked into his eyes with a gentle smile.

“I love you too,” You whispered, giving in to the urge to kiss him again. You basked in his shocked look before turning your back to him and going back to the party, where you bumped into Liz less than five minutes later.

“There you are! Where the hell were you? You missed the countdown!”

It wasn’t until you looked around at the confetti-filled floor and the large numbers on a screen that you remembered.

“I went to the bathroom,” You replied, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and reaching out to take a glass of champagne from one of the several trays atop the tables, “Where did your friend run off to?”

“David?” Liz asked, a deep red blush spreading over her cheeks, “He had to go home. I hope you don’t mind, but we’re getting dinner next Friday,”

“Don’t mind at all,” You replied with a bright smile, eyes already scanning the half-empty club, once again looking for that same face. The one you knew you’d always look for in a crowd for the rest of your life. This time, thanks to the small number of people left, it wasn’t hard to come across his eyes. Amused, you raised your glass at him with a soft, genuine laugh. He did his best to look annoyed, but the minute you tilted your head and gave him your best apologetic look, Miguel rolled his eyes and shook his head with a reluctant smile that made you laugh again before taking a sip of that cheap champagne.

This was going to be a great year.

#miguel o'hara x female reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara #spiderman atsv #atsv x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x reader smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara fanfic

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cod-sins · 10 months

Text

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐊ö𝐧𝐢𝐠 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

.ೃ࿐ Ratings: SFW

.ೃ࿐ Reader: Undisclosed

[A/N: I didn't proofread this so if you see a mistake no you did not.]

[Edit: I can't seem to add a read more option fellow mobile users I am so sorry]

𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖

𝙰𝙿𝙿𝙴𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙲𝙴 ‣. I see König standing at a whopping 6'10 (because I say so) meaning he's a big guy. He has trouble finding clothes that fit his size (especially pants). He gets alot of his civilian clothes tailored or he just has his Oma [ :')] do it for him. I imagine he wears a size 49 in European shoes (16 for Americans) and he prefers boots and sneakers instead of sandals and loafers. His usual outfits include plain colored tees, a jacket (usually dark colors; black, navy blue, hunter green), sweatpants [show off that dickprint] and combat boots. König doesn't wear his hood out in public, so he settles for black or blue surgical masks. He doesn't want to draw anymore attention to himself so dressing casual is his way to go. He's got big meaty thighs and hard abs with a sharp prominent v-line (mwah) to tie it all together.

‣. König has a cleft lip! It's on the right side of his mouth, he hated it as a child but grew up to realize it was apart of him. He has scars on his forearm from a hostile trying to slash him. They run deep and it was a pretty painful experience for him (he hates talking about it and he tries to wear long sleeved clothes but sometimes the weather ends up winning). He also has a bullet scar on his thigh as well. He keeps his nails short except one or two just in case he needs to pick something or scratch. I imagine his hair to be a soft strawberry blonde color. Something like this, this, and this. Because of the military he keeps it very short but he likes when his s/o styles it around. It looks similar to these styles. Despite what canon says I say his eyes are deep green.

‣. König is a Libra! His birthdate is August 22, 1995! [I know Libra's aren't born in August but for the sake of fanfiction shhhh let's pretend it is!] Making König 27 years old; He's very mature for his age!

𝙿𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙾𝙽𝙰𝙻𝙸𝚃𝚈 ‣. König suffered from anxiety/social anxiety since he was 17 and still suffers till this day just not as much. He's able to turn it off in the field but once he's on leave and is around other civilians it comes crawling back. It has stopped him from making friends, hanging out with his fellow soldiers and even dating. He's still a virgin because of this (and because of work and him finding the right person but that's a later issue). However once you get past that shy exterior he's pretty cocky. He's proud of the fact that he is a colonel and he enjoys secretly flexing on his s/o. "Ja, I took down a group of terrorists and saved all the hostages by myself. No big deal (👀)." He's one of those quiet people who talks alot of shit in their head and sends side eyes instead of starting shit.

‣. König is relatively good at hiding his anger, especially since he wears that mask 24/7. He'll quietly brood in the corner--arms crossed giving off an aura that spooks the new recruits. He's very quiet not speaking unless spoken too or if he needs something. König is so sarcastic! He'll roll his eyes (secretly) or mumble smart comments under his breath––mocking whatever superior that pissed him off. If you're close to you him you'll notice when he's happy. He has a slight bounce in step and he walks with his chest puffed up proudly. It's a real cute sight honestly.

𝙿𝚁𝙴𝙵𝙴𝚁𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴 ‣. König's favorite colors are earthy tones. He likes dark woodsy green, russet and navy blue. I imagine he loves the ocean and water. Especially creeks! Winter may not be his favorite season but he loves hiking through the snow in his hometown's nature trails. He enjoys hearing the sound of the snow and dead leaves crunch under his footsteps. Speaking of hometown his favorite dishes are things like beef stew or anything meaty and hearty. He really likes homemade jams and jellys. He prefers going to the farmers market and picking up his fruits and vegetables fresh.

‣.This man's house is HUGE. It would look maybe something like this. It's super spacious with a few spare rooms for guests. König showers more than he bathes. He's legs are too long to fit which makes him have to awkwardly scrunch himself up. He isn't around much because of his work so he never took to the time to properly decorate. If you're his s/o he gives you permission to decorate. Make it look really pretty for him please. He lives somewhere a little distant from the city; closer to the country but not too far. He still wants to be close to local shopping markets.

‣.I think König would prefer a fat/chubby partner over a thinner partner. He enjoys grabbing onto their body, holding them closely feeling the warmth radiate from their body. I see him liking a partner who is quiet. Not as quiet as him because he likes when your chatter fills the silence. But someone who's able to relax and enjoy the ambience of their surroundings. Someone who is able to point out the little details in things. He wouldn't mind an outgoing s/o, someone who speaks for him when he doesn't feel verbal that day.

König was once stationed by an ocean for half a year and it was the best moments of his life. It was so calming for him. Every night he could hear the waves gently crashing against each other it always soothed him. It was favorite lullaby (after the one his mom sings).

König always has his hands held behind his back or he holds them in the front. He enjoys grabbing parts of himself it helps keep him stable and grounded. He also fiddles alot. Like he constantly stretches and wiggles his fingers. Or he lightly traces his thighs up and down with his fingers.

One of his favorite genres of music is Electro Swing. His favorite band is Caravan Palace. He loves all their albums.

100% picks people up. If you're his s/o and you're in his way he's grabbing you by the waist and gently moving you over. If you're on the battlefield god knows he's treating you like a football; bro is slugging you over his shoulder if you get injured or he's tackling you down to protect you from grenades.

If he's stutters too much in a sentence he gets really mad. He doesn't find it funny when people mock his accent. Also!! There are certain English words that König just doesn't know. He's fluent in English and can write well but there are times he gets stuck on words he doesn't recognize.

Has a thing for chubby cheeks. Also really likes chubby fingers. If you have fat fingers please give him a massage, he would love it so much. It's such a nice contrast too; his rough calloused hands compared to your soft round ones.

Looves chocolate. Especially dark chocolate, he really enjoys candy bars with nuts and toffee in them. He adores American super-sized candy bars. He also really likes twizzlers and licorice.

He doesn't outwardly smoke but if you offer he won't refuse. He's makes sure not to make it a habit (his grandmother was very upset when she caught him smoking once), he'd rather die by a bullet than slowly kill himself.

I know I said he's 27 but I imagine him to be 35 in canon.

NATURE LOVER! Bro is enamored by the beauty of his home country. He loves observing the wildlife on walks. He has a journal where he keeps different leaves from different places he was stationed at.

Good friends with Horangi. Not like BFFS (they are) but they're drinking buddies. Horangi helps König with his social anxiety and König helps Horangi not fall back into gambling.

König's favorite meat ever is lamb. He fucking loves a tender lamb roast. Gets annoyed as hell when the meat get stuck between his gums but he thinks it's worth it for the delicious food.

Pretty particular about his beers, he doesn't drink anything he's a man of class! He'll go on this super long lecture about how German brewing is so much better than other countries and that non-German beer/alcohol can't compete. Him and Soap got into an argument about this.

He keeps his area as tidy as possible. He isn't a slob but isn't a complete neat freak. If he has a bunch of random items out he'll try and keep them in a organized pile.

Sometimes he leaves his guns out around his house.

Lowkey likes being needed. There are times when his fellow soldiers ask him for help carrying extra stuff or when children or the elderly ask him to reach stuff off the top shelves. Especially likes when his s/o ask him to carry them. He'll start to puff his chest out and walk around with a dumb grin under his mask.

Type of guy to see people down an asle and wait for them to move instead of saying excuse me. [Projecting fr fr]

A real crafty individual, his hood is just a tee-shirt with holes in it. His helmet is literally a bicycle helmet he modded with military gear. König knows how to sew and he can tailor a little. He prefers taking his clothes to a seamstress or tailor because his hands are very big and sewing can a take a long time and he doesn't have that much patience for it.

He LOVED arts and crafts as a child. He would make so much shit to bring him to his mom and grandma. His grandmother still has his things till this day.

His favorite English speaking bands would be The Smiths, Boâ and The Cranberries. He likes to quietly sing to himself it makes him happy. He also enjoys 70-80s music. I also think he likes the sound of nu metal/rock instrumentals.

If he had an s/o he would love to dance with them. He would/could never dance in public but behind closed doors god knows this man would shimmy with his partner. He doesn't care if you can dance well because he can't dance well, he just wants to let loose and have fun with you.

Broke a guy's ribcage once. It was during sparring and König was pretty pissed with the man because he did something cocky and stupid that caused them the life of another soldier. He didn't receive proper punishment because they successfully completed the mission but König decided he should deal his own form of justice. By putting so much pressure on his chest until he heard a satisfying crack sound.

I think he likes apple cider.

He was raised by his mother and grandmother so he has a softer spot towards woman. He enjoys being in their company.

Smells like one of those fireplace candles or something with sandlewood and cinnamon. On the battlefield thought he reeks of blood, sweat and gunpowder.

Absolutely hates when there is dirt under his nails (or anyone else's). He thinks it looks so gross it makes him wanna vomit.

His favorite animal is probably either a bear or fox. He also likes pigs, he thinks the little piglets are so cute.

König is texter not a caller. He'll send his s/o paragraphs of texts instead of small individual ones because he thinks the notifications would be annoying and the last thing he wants to be is annoying (please convince him he's not).

He always plans out conversations in his head. Before going to check-out he's going through a mental rundown of what the total is gonna be, how he's gonna pay and what the cashier is going to say. Being in the military lowkey made this worse. He's always over analyzing conversations because he's afraid of messing up and embarrassing himself.

He likes drama movies and psychological horror. Midsommar is one of his favorite horror movies.

König has stretch marks on his thighs and legs and a little on his stomach. His growth spurt was crazy as a child.

Requests: OPEN

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!

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