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cherry-leclerc · 4 months

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method acting ☆ cl16

genre: series - humor, strangers to friends/roommates

word count: 4.6k

*can you guess what film it's based off of? where the title originates from?

ch. one ch. two ch. three ch. four ch. five ch. six

Chapter 2

Life, as you fear, is falling apart as you're confronted with a serious case of writer's block that puts your career on the line. As a solution, you're roommate helps you plan a solo trip to the Amalfi Coast for a much needed break but it doesn't take long for you to meet a certain Monegasque who lays passed out on the beach.

“You got lost, didn’t you?”

Sticking your tongue out at Charles, you take a seat next to his broad figure as you start applying coconut sunscreen. “Would it kill you to not gloat?” You narrow your unusually soft eyes like weapons.

He playfully shudders. “Ooooh. My blood ran cold.”

Throwing the bottle over at his lap, he chuckles before lathering his tan body with the white goo. You try to not make it obvious, the way you steal glances at him. Everything makes sense all of a sudden; his odd obsession with anything that could cover his handsome features, the mysterious Ferrari, how he could go from making you laugh to keeping his mouth shut and looking down whenever anyone was around.

He had kept this from you for a reason, that much is clear, but you would still give him a chance to open up. Sliding on a pair of sunglasses, you twist your body to sit cross cross. You fold your hands over your lap. “Truth or dare?”

The brunette tilts his head with hesitance. “Y-you don’t want to take a dip?”

“Let’s lay out for a bit.” You poke him with your toe. “C’mon. Play with me.”

He sighs, pushing his hat downwards. “Dare.”

“Hmm…I dare you to…read me your last text message.”

“Easy.” Pulling out his phone, he scrolls for a bit before showing it to you.

You’re walking the opposite way. I said near the fruit stand.

Burning up, you push it down. “I don’t count.”

“You never specified.”

He wasn’t going to play easy and part of you respected that. Clicking your tongue, you extend your shiny legs. He gulps. Truth or dare? “Dare.”

“Call the last person you spoke to.”

Growing nauseous at his request, you shake your head. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

You stutter. “M-my boss called to check up on me. Wanted to make sure I was a-actually on my deathbed and not just faking it, I can’t do that.” The Monegasque squinted his eyes teasingly before leaning back against the gray rocks.

“Fine. You get a pass.” You let out a breath of relief. “But I get one of those as well.”

You felt as if you were making a deal with the devil with the way he was watching you, waiting for an answer. He might use it against your benefit, but you had no choice. “Deal.”

“Good.” Flickering his green eyes towards the crystal blue tides, he chews on the inside of his cheek. “It's your turn.”

Be smart, don’t blow it. Deep down, you wanted to ask about the simpler things. Your favorite color? What was your childhood like? Was it better than mine? But that couldn’t matter more than what information you actually needed. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

You groan. How were you supposed to get all the juicy details out of him if he kept playing it safe? Nonchalantly, he waits. “I dare you to stop picking dares.” His face pales. You feel bad for putting him in that position, but he quickly snaps out of it.

“Truth or dare?”

Swallowing a thick layer or saliva, you purse your lips. “Truth.”

“Why did you lie to your boss?”

You gape at his question as you think of a way to avoid it. All he knows is that you have a month off and chose Italy as your destination thanks to your amazing friends. He didn’t know anything about the sleepless nights of zero ideas that had you on the brink of being fired, the reason you needed this article to work. Not only would it set your career, but it would also give you the respect you so desperately looked for in everyone who looked down on you.

“She would never let me come to Italy if I told her I need a break from all the pressure, y’know?”

Waves crash noisily as he frowns. “Mhm.”

“My turn. What’s your occupation?”

“I already told you,” he laughs, brown curls flowing against the summer breeze. “I work with cars.” A gist of hope zaps your heart as you wait for the rest. “I’m a mechanic.”

He wasn’t going to tell you - he didn’t trust you. Melancholy register across your face as you rise up carefully. “I’m in the mood to swim now.”

Life for the Scuderia Ferrari driver moves at a fast pace, always on the go and traveling all around the world. At just 26 years old, the Monegasque has collected 5 wins and an impressive number of podiums, all while maintaining the longest Scuderia contract in history.

But do we really know Charles Leclerc in his everyday life? A man without any responsibilities?

Fortunately for us, I was able to sit down and speak to Il Predestinato as he he walks us through his routine for when he’s not on track-

“What are you working on? Seeing you be so quiet is bone-chilling.”

Poking your tongue out like a slithering snake, you feverishly slam your computer shut as you flip him off. “Catching up with friends. What can I say? The people love me.” The 26 year old rolls his eyes before picking up on his scribbles. Tippy toeing closer to him, you try to inspect the messy writing. “What is that?”

“Fuck, you scared me, you little gnome.” Hiding his small journal, you immediately push out your bottom lip.

“Show me! Show me! Show me!”

Clumsily, he opens it. “Grocery list.” But it's more than that. His letter isn’t easy to read, but it'll get you there. Diary entries. Blinking up at your roommate, you wiggle your brows. What’s it say? “Nothing important.” You don’t press him on it, but that doesn’t stop the curiosity from stirring inside of you. He stiffens. “Let’s go before they close.”

Pebbles crunch underneath your ballet flats as you sing softly. He smiles, content with the serene atmosphere. What song is that? Your jaw drops, stopping dead in your tracks. It takes him a while to realize you're not skipping next to him anymore. “Tell me you’re joking…”

“I’m joking.”

“Charles!” you wail as you fling your arms. “Beyond the Sea? Bobby Darin?” His face doesn’t change as he bats his eyes blankly. You gasp. “We’ll meet, I know we’ll meet beyond the shore. We’ll kiss just as before-.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

Playfully, you shiver, clutching your heart. “It isn’t good to be uncultured, Charlie.” The way you spit out his new nickname has him grasping how much he loves it - so long it's coming from you. Pulling out your phone from your back pocket, you wave your finger like some principal. “I’ll play it for you.”

The Monegasque shakes his head. “No, just sing it to me like you were.”

You sincerely don’t have a single clue where all this unknown courage comes from, but you oblige. All the way to the local farmers market, he’s grinning ear to ear. From your voice sounding angelic, to it cracking as you would try to intimidate Darin, he feels fortunate to see this side of you.

Entering the sliding doors, you grab a basket as you drag him, shoes squeaking from the sudden pull. “We’re not here for snacks, we’re here for food. Y’know - vegetables, rice, chicken-”

“I need something sweet!” you complain as your doe eyes glimmer at the sight of the Italian desserts. “If I don’t get it in my system I will die. Do you want me to die?”

“At this moment, it doesn’t sound half bad.” You gawk at his dark humor. Taking the tiny basket from you, he makes his way to the produce section. “Grab whatever you need. I’ll be right back.”

Once his back faces you, you feel your phone vibrating. “Amelia!” Your cheery friend waves excitedly. Where have you been? I haven’t heard from you for days! Wincing, you place your phone on top of a box of cookies. “I’ve been gone for five days, please relax. Plus, I’m fine. Enjoying my time off.”

Your friend snickers. “I still need updates to make sure you aren’t dead in a ditch.” Making an exaggerated face, you nod and the blonde giggles. “Don’t make me fly out there. Unlike you, I will demand a year off if needed.”

“Oh, I believe you,” you murmur, hand reaching for a box of Baci Pergunia. “How are you guys surviving without your third wheel?”

“Stop it, you,” she hisses. “Instead, why don’t you fill me in - any cute tourists?” You freeze midair, already angling your body to grab bonelle jellys.

“I’m not too focused on any of that..”

“Of course not because you’re too busy daydreaming about Grayson,” she teases. “Honey! She’s missing him, I told you!” Bullshit, Roman yells back from the kitchen.

“Will you two stop it?” you grit.

“Yes, darling,” Roman talks gingerly. “Will you please stop planning a wedding?” Your jaw drops while your friend nervously giggles. He’s joking.

“Enough about me, what are you two doing? What’s on the menu?”

The brunette’s eyes crinkle, showing off his blurry screen. “Sicilian meatball soup.”

“Lucky!” you groan. “You’re messed up for cooking your grandma’s recipe while I’m not there.” He shrugs.

“We miss you so we both decided to make an Italian dish.” She emphasizes her words as he smiles bitterly. “It’s like you’re here with us.”

“She cried for an hour or so. It was the only way I could calm her down.” Amelia bites the air at her boyfriend. He leaps back, returning to stirring the sauce. “I cook because I love you, stop that.”

You throw your head back with laughter. “Again, not dead, but I’m touched.” Hearing a bag crinkle, you look down the aisle and spot Charles making his way over. “Gotta go! Call you as soon as I can!”

“Wow, you’ve managed to grab all the snacks in the entire store,” Charles teases as he points to your stack. “Got you chips, too.”

“You’re not helping,” you grunt as you take it from him. He hands you your own basket for your treats. Cramming them all in, he examines you before clearing his throat awkwardly.

“So, Grayson’s the boyfriend?”

“Ha! I wish. He’s my boss’ son. Way out of my league.”

His jaw clenches. “Don’t think like that. Anyone would be lucky to have you.” Then, he walks away, leaving you to follow after him like a lost puppy. You’re wary around him after that encounter, so you make sure to stand a few steps behind, waiting for him to finish paying. “What are you doing?”

“Che cosa?”

Sauntering over, he reaches down to take your things. Your breath gets caught in your throat from the sudden proximity. “I got it.”

Bewildered, you start retreating all the sweets. “You don’t need to do that, you’re already paying for the other things. This one’s on me.” He scrunches his nose.

“That’s endearing, but I can’t. I’m on a diet.”

“Why?” You’re genuinely confused, and can’t tell whether he’s joking or not. “You look perfectly fine to me.”

He smirks. “Really?”

“I m-mean I think so,” you stammer. “But how would I know, I’ve never been on a diet.” Charles' watercolor eyes trickle all the way down before dancing back up. Butterflies flutter inside of you.

“You don’t need it, trust me.” A pause. “I’ll pay for your things, it’s really no problem. Though I do ask you not to blame me when your teeth rot.”

“Jerk!” you quip when he walks away, laughing loudly. You smile at the sound.

“You need to stop gobbling up all that crap, if not you’re not going to eat any of what I’m cooking,” his voice warns you. Setting the bag of gummies down, you kick your bare feet against the cabinets.

Has it been an hour? Two? You can’t remember but it sure did smell good. He had asked you to just sit still and fix up a playlist while he prepared dinner, so there really wasn’t much to do. Are you almost done? Focused on cutting up a piece of onion, he shakes his head. A minute passes by before asking again. Not done, wait.

As soon as your stomach grumbles, he wiggles his eyebrows teasingly. You chuck a carrot at him as he cackles. “Ta-da!” Inspecting the nicely done dish, you throw a thumbs up. Grabbing a spoon, you’re about to dive in before he slides the plate away. Your lips form a thin line. “Take your time. Really enjoy it - it’s flavor, it’s scent-”

“Jesus, fine. Give it before I bite your cheek off,” you growl. Glaring at him, you dip your utensil in slowly. He applauds before pulling out his phone and pressing record. “Is that really necessary?”

“You might not realize it, but this is a monumental moment.” Bowing his head, he urges you to try it. You shrug once, wrapping your lips around the spoon and let's just say - you’ve always had a killer poker face.

“Delicious, chef!”

“Putain oui!” He puts his phone away. “What did you like about it? The pepper helped, didn't it?”

You grimace. “I want my two hours back.” His smile dies down. Seriously? Yanking the spoon from your grip, he tries the colorful soup and winces at the saltiness.

“I followed step by step, why does this shit keep happening?”

The Monegaque truly does seem bummed out as his shoulders sag, glasses sliding down his pointy nose. Scooting closer, you pat his shoulder awkwardly. “You need some serious help.” He shoots a deadpan look as you giggle. “I’m kidding! It’s not that bad.” Jumping off the counter, you tug the nearest apron. “Let me try.”

It takes another two hours, but you figure it out eventually. Standing tall, you place your hands behind your back. The Monegasque eyes the food. “Now, I want you to take your time. Really enjoy it, it’s flavor-”

“Stop it,” he grumbles before diving in. His eyes open wide as you wiggle against your heels excitedly. “You can’t be real.”

“Is it good?”

He nods enthusiastically, brown hair jumping up and down. “H-how did you…” Polishing your nails, you fake a bored expression. By praying. It’s looks as if he’s deeply considering your advice for a second but when you howl out, he flushes.

“Don’t be so gullible, Charlie. Roman’s grandma taught me. I spent Christmas with him and Amelia.”

His face softens up. “What about your parents?”

“We’re not close like that.” You confess so unbothered that it has him fluttering his eyes for a while. “Don’t feel bad - I do just fine. They call me on my birthday.” Metal clinks against the porcelain plate as he huffs, firm chest rising up before deflating.

“That’s the fucking standard.” You raise a brow. Why are you upset with me? “I’m not. It’s just that it’s not fair that they treat you like garbage just because you didn’t fulfill their wish. Or that you let others trample over you like a piece of shit.” You flinch. “Y-you know what I mean…”

“Sure,” you whisper, forcing a smile. “Enjoy the food, Charles.”

He feels guilty for making you feel bad, but he wasn’t lying. It bugged the crap out of him that you floated through life thinking everything was okay. He’s never met Amelia or Roman, but he felt a strong gratitude towards the couple for treating you with genuine care. But you had filled him in on the rest; they way others would look down on you - all while you wore a miserable smile. I’m used to it by now. Doesn’t even bother me.

Charles was always in the limelight - always probably will be - but he also knows he signed up for it. He knew fake smiles like the back of his hand. Whether it was a pretty girl trying to get money out of him or sponsors trying to get close to him just for fame. If it weren’t for his friends back home, he definitely would have lost faith in humanity.

And then there was you. Someone so kind, who puts others' needs before yourself. You didn’t have to check up on him that day at the beach, you didn’t have to help him or give him shelter but you did. He thought you would be some crazy fan but when you blinked up at him like a curious expression, he could tell you didn’t know who he was.

The Monegasque felt relieved that you treated him without any special treatment, that you saw him for who he really was, not just some F1 driver. He owes it to you to make things right and apologize.

He finds you eating a pint of gelato as you stare blankly at the eggshell wall. “Did you save me some?” You jump at the sound of his deep voice. Halfway done, you respond red-faced. You can have the rest. Leaning against the table, he shakes his head. “Let’s just share.”

You’re sure you can hear Amelia and Roman bickering from how quiet it is, but don’t dare to utter a single word. It’s bad enough that he knows that his words got to you, how can you look him in the eye?

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” Peeking over at the brunette, you admire his side profile before humming. He continues. “But at the same time I don’t regret it.”

You laugh dryly. “Wow, this is some apology.”

Clearing his throat, he cages your body against the wooden furniture. “I’m serious - I don’t.” Avoiding eye contact, you stare at the sides of your bare thighs where his large hands lay. Suddenly the room feels suffocating. “You do need to stop letting others decide what to think about yourself. You need to stop pleasing everyone around you. Your parents, Eleanor, shit, even me.”

The green eyed boy begins to get blurry as your eyes foolishly well up. “I don’t do th-”

“Yes, yes you do, do that.” His accent comes out stronger than intended. You let out a shaky breath, then beam up at him. Okay, I’ll stop. He grinds his teeth together. “No. Don’t agree just because I’m telling you - do it for yourself because you want to.”

“I want to,” you whisper meekly.

His heart breaks at the sight of you answering untruthfully but does say anything else. Instead, he hauls you off the table, planting you onto your feet. “Grab a sweater and meet me by the door in five minutes.”

He’s for sure going to murder you, Amelia was right after all. Shit, you mutter underneath your breath as he pulls onto the hills. The view was great - for sure a nice way to go if that’s the last thing you’ll ever see.

Following him out, you pinch down on your denim shorts. Was it too late to run away? He left the key in the engine, maybe you could leave him stranded?

“I’m not going to kill you, you can relax.”

Blood rushes to the tip of your ears. “What are we doing here at…” You check your phone. “Two in the morning?”

“Yell.”

You quirk your head curiously. “I’m sorry, say that one more time.”

He extends his arms out, enjoying the cool breeze. “Just do it. No one’s going to hear you.”

“That sounds like something a killer would say. Can I get a ten minute head start?”

He rolls his green eyes. “Trust me, it helps a lot. My trainer has me do it all the time.” You raise your brows. “I- uh- box during my free time. My boxing trainer has me do it when I’m too stressed.”

Ignoring his slip up, you shake your head. “I can’t scream, that’s weird.” His pink lips turn downwards. “You’re going to judge me!”

“I won’t!” Covering his ears, he signals at you. “Not a thing.”

You bite down on your sweater before shaking your buzzing hands. Once and he’ll drop it. Ahh, you let out weakly before smiling brightly. “You’re right. That was great!” Turning on your heels, you begin to skip away before he tugs on your sweater, flinging you back.

“Not even the crickets heard you. Try again.”

“I did do it, you just didn’t like it.”

“I’m not letting you leave until you do it the right way.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he peacefully shuts his eyes, enjoying nature's lullaby. He seems to let his guard down because before he knows it, he hears the Ferrari engine loud and clear. “Don’t you dare leave,” he warns as he runs up to his car.

“Get home safe, Charlie!” you squeal as you step on the gas. Chasing after you, he ends up standing in front of the car as you shriek. As quickly as you can, you step off the break but the tip still manages to hit the Monegasque. You scream at the brutal sight.

Scurrying out of the car, you drop down next to him as you flip him onto his back. His pretty eyes remain closed as he lays still. Wake up Charles, I’m too young to go to jail! Do you know how hard it is to prove your innocence when you’re a foreigner? You delicately tap his cheek but his head only rolls back. You yell out in panic as you let go of his heavy body.

“Oh God, oh God, holy shit, holy fuck,” you whimper as you pace back into the red car. Squeezing your eyes tightly, you place your hands over the steering wheel as you think about what just happened. Amelia was going to kill you. Eleanor would personally write a whole article about you.

“You were seriously going to leave me for dead?” a voice interrupts your thoughts as you scream. You face Charles and he yells back at the sudden ring.

“What the shi- You’re alive!” Jumping over the console, you hug him, barely giving him room to breathe. Groaning in pain, he pushes you back. You hop off as you grab his left hand and raise up four fingers. “How many am I holding up?”

“Fingers? I have ten.”

Your heartbeat travels to your throat as you squirm. “I broke him.” Images of you behind bars enter your mind as you plead Charles to drop the charges. Amelia and Roman would travel to visit you in jail but only to demand their money back. You’d be in complete debt for the rest of your life and oh God what if the Italinas had a thing for the electric chair-

“I’m teasing,” he laughs as he rubs his head. “It hurts like a motherfucker, though, but hey, at least you let it all out.” Wacking his arm, you glare sternly.

“You did that on purpose?”

Grunting, he inches away. “I did not, are you crazy? But it helped you! How do you feel?”

You narrow your fiery eyes. “Angry…mad.” That's the same thing, he points out as you scowl. Nevermind. “I feel good.”

All smug, he leans against the passenger's seat. “I told you it would help.”

“Huh,” you let out in astonishment.

It started out with a simple argument - pesto or tomato sauce. You were leaning more towards the green paste but he held onto his end stubbornly. Honeymoon phase is over? Spinning to face a little boy with whipped cream all over his cheeks, he quirks his head. My dad always likes to say - happy wife, happy life. Walking away, you’re both left with your mouths hung open as you put the ingredients down.

“Did we just get scolded by a some little fucker?”

Gasping at his words, you smack the side of his head. He yelps. “No Charles, he basically called us old! We’re ancient!”

“Nonsense. He’s just being dumb.”

Glaring, you put your hands on your hips as you pace the aisle. “What if he’s right? What if we are on the verge of death?” He laughs. All because he thought we were married? Closing in to his tall figure, you pinch your face up. “A married couple spend their life together - growing old. He called us old!” You walk fast down the supermarket as you run wild hands through your hectic hair.

Hurrying after you, he pants. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to find him.” He comes to a sudden stop. And do what exactly? Tossing your head back, you groan in frustration. “I don’t know! Whoop him or something like that.”

The Monegasque lets out a snicker. Your face twists up. “Let’s just calm down.” I am calm, you grunt. He clicks his tongue.

“We need to do something,” you declare. He sighs. Forgetting all about your errands, you drag him out of the store. Bright eyes flicker across the busy streets as you huff. Then you spot it. “We’re going.”

The brunette squints his eyes as he reads the small print. Amalfi Club. Theme: Halloween costumes. He scoffs. “But it isn’t even October.”

But your mind is set. “It’s perfect.” Bumping against his shoulder, you beam. “Looks like we can turn back time after all.”

Ballerina for me, you cheer. And Stormtrooper for you? You narrow your eyes in confusion. “I’m sorry, how do you even know Star Wars exists? Aren’t you French?”

“Monegasque,” he corrects you before frowning. “Stars Wars is a global success. Being from Monaco doesn’t mean we don’t know anything, thank you very much.”

You shrug. “Be a tiny bit more grateful that I found our costumes on such short notice.” Yeah, yeah, he yawns. “I’m so excited!” you squeal as you finish tying your pink ribbon. You would for sure have a terrible headache by the end of the day. “Won’t you sweat with a helmet all night?”

“I think I’ll be able to handle it.”

It’s so crowded - packed - that your roommate has to practically shove you in as you yelp, arm swatting your tutu down. A cheap looking Tinkerbell gives you the death glare when you step on her foot. I can’t fucking breath! The Stroomtopper mask tilts as he brings his gloved hands to your shoulder. Do you want to leave?

“No!” A beat. “Let me just go get us a drink.”

Zipping past him, you can hear him calling after you but you choose to ignore since you knew he would drag you back to the shared Airbnb. Just water, you chime in as the bartender nods, eyeing your perky tits. Frowning, you pout somberly. “Ignore him,” a deep voice rips you away from your thoughts as you face them.

Is everyone just okay with melting their face off? The towering man wears a red jumpsuit with the infamous Dali mask. “I like your costume. I binge watched all of Casa De Papel in a singular night.” Your cheeks flush when you realize you’re rambling. He chuckles richly.

“Thought I’d look cool.

There’s an award silence as you wait. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you scrunch your nose in disgust. “You must be sweaty beneath all that,” you ponder, fingers signals to the white mask. He sighs, wide shoulders rolling back. I’m thinking I might faint. A bright giggle slips past your lips and he grins from underneath, even if can’t see. “You remind me of my friend. He would rather die than take his helmet off. He’s a Strormtrooper,” you add.

Large hands come up as he pushes the hoodie off, messy brown locks coming into view. Stubborn, aren’t we? You nod, thanking the man who comes back with your glass of water. “I should go find him…”

A heavy pant flows from the mysterious man. You’re leaving? He coughs to cover up his neediness. His accent makes your cheek burn up. “I sort of left him,” you respond sheepishly. He chuckles, finally taking his mask off, beads of thin sweat painingting his large nose. You breath hitches, waves of recognition hitting you all at once.

“Valid.” He extends his tan hand towards you. “I’m Carlos, by the way.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm

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sarcasticscribbles · 4 months

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Thinking about a happily ever after AU

Jon wakes up next to Martin, confused as this isn't how he remembered falling asleep. Unable to recall the last time he was asleep, he pulls the curtains, and everything appears: normal. Martin groans softly in the background; it's early, and he had hoped to wake up before Jon today.

"Happy birthday," Martin mumbles as he stretches his arms out. Jon watches him, stunned.

"Get back in bed, at least let me make you breakfast," Martin bargains, and Jon doesn't have a response.

The birthday celebration consists of tea and toast—a slow morning. Still, Martin informs Jon that they'll meet the others tonight.

Tonight, the others. Basira, having taken an early retirement, is the first to the restaurant. She no longer works for the London Metropolitan Police nor the Institute. Reading a book as Jon and Martin arrive, she greets Jon with another "happy birthday."

Melanie and Georgie come together, Melanie with her hand in Georgie's, tapping her cane on the ground to see. Martin hugs them, and they greet Jon in a similar fashion.,

They chose this restaurant because Daisy hasn't had issues bringing her service dog here. Both Daisy and Basira are former police officers, aware of the Equality Act 2010, yet restaurants still refuse to let Daisy enter. Jon can't answer when Daisy wishes him a happy birthday, as to him, Daisy was shot and killed. She's calm, smiles, and sits across from him.

Tim and Sasha are late; their daughter Dani still isn't sleeping through the night, but they eventually arrive. Tim sports a beard neatly trimmed across his face. Jon can relate, as shaving over the worm scars tends to reopen them. He quickly embraces Martin and shakes Jon's shoulders when he doesn't respond.

"Happy birthday, boss," Tim says. Sasha is behind him—tall, with big glasses and long hair. Jon knows who she is.

They all gather around the table, admitting they weren't supposed to but bringing forward a wrapped present. Seeing everyone today has been enough of a gift to Jon, which is quickly laughed off because he's not supposed to be this sappy. Martin insists, and inside the box is an old tape recorder with a still tape inside it. Jon is hesitant to touch it, but the buttons don't seem to be working.

Maybe because he's free?

Or because, "this isn't real."

"No," Martin admits, looking at Jon after his revelation, "but I thought it would be nice."

And Jon wakes up on the hardwood floor in the Upton House. Martin is asleep, but the bright light and carefree morning are gone.

#sorry i went off #the magnus archives #tma #mag #tim stoker #sasha james #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #basira hussain #daisy tonner #georgie barker #melanie king

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tarjapearce · 23 hours

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El Diablo Wears Prada (Pt. 4)

Mafia Boss! Miguel O'Hara x Reader

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Mentions of blood, panic attacks, shock, emotional distress, injuries, shooting, smut, Oral (F! Receiving), sexual comfort as a stress relief, mild angst and fluff, sexual tension, no use of Y/N, No proofread, mild mutual pining, relationship talk.

Summary: El Diablo knows how to comfort you.

Everything had happened in such a slow motion, your brain had barely the time to process and digest it.

The shots kept echoing, destroying everything in their wake and then a strong hand pulled you down behind the sturdy and flipped oak table. You could see Miguel's countenance turning sharper, angrier and meaner.

"The fuck you think you're doing?!" The underlying panick in his voice had him shaking you briefly, "Get down!"

He nearly roared as a new wave of bullets came your way, some finished the job of killing the people that only pretended to be dead in order to save themselves, others turned into tiny shards and splinters the many decoration scattered around. Yet Miguel pulled you to his chest, forcing your head to duck down last second before a new array of bullets could reach the top of your skull. Protecting you with his frame.

He alternated between ducking and shooting, striking down two of the assailants. With every pull of the trigger he did, a shot was carefully delivered with the sole purpose of killing. He didn't hold back, his life and yours were under risk. It was either them succeeding and he dying, or he shooting his way out and make a chance at living. He'd always chose the latter.

Bullets ricocheted on both sides, the loss on each teams remained even, but even in the amidst of all, he felt you clinging to him; trembling, and staining his thousand dollar shirt with your makeup. Terrified beyond reason.

How could you not? You didn't know if you'd make it out alive and a shooting wasn't in your list of things you'd love to participate in your life. Not when the shooting kept bringing men down, destroying little by little the shelter you were dragged to, and adding more weight to your frightened self.

The woman, Olivia Octavius laid on the floor, fumbling with her hands as she tried to bandage herself her injured foot. She was dragged to safety by Kraven as she cursed and hissed. A bullet had nicked her skin.

"It's only five of'em left!" Olivia mumbled with a twisted and proud smile, "Took two out."

A lurid splatter echoed in the room as a gunshot tore through, overlapping the constant shots, making them and pained groans a background noise. Then another and another.

You heard Kraven, laughing like a mad man as he used his gunshot, to anyone that had been a fool enough to come closer.

Jessica had been shooting and hiding behind a pillar, wiping out the room or anyone that came dangerously close to Miguel.

"Goddammit Peter, hurry the fuck up!" She grumbled through her radio while ending another life.

"On your left!" Jessica warned and Miguel pulled the trigger again, finishing another man.

The last man standing was taken out by Kraven. And silence fell with such heaviness you could hear your heart pounding in your ears.

"Upper hall is cleared, they're everywhere!" Peter announced through the static radio.

"Car's on the way boss!" Jessica warned and soon she came out from her hiding, to make sure the place was cleared.

The pungent smell of blood and gunpowder in the air overwhelmed your senses. Your body had been in such a deep state of shock that it barely registered when Miguel pulled you up with him and took you out of the room, your heels clicked and squished hastily on the murky surface.

You wished to blink, but your body had been sinking deeper and deeper into this catatonic state that it wasn't possible for you to do things without someone's guidance. And none else but El Diablo walked through the dead, leading you out of that haunting scene.

You were sure the blood had seeped in your feet, as it drowned the once golden floor. The was no meeting, no more men and women playing games as they confessed their doings to eachother. No more laughing and scheming. No more wicked smiles

Just silence and death, left and right, with floors bathed in blood and other things you didn't want to know in the slightest. Yet the man before you seemed at ease, holding your hand with enough force to keep you close and ebb you to move, cause you couldn't. Mind in automatic pilot since a long while ago.

Too rattled and shook to the core to even have a panic attack, despite your heart mimicking the speed of a hummingbird as you hid again once you reached the upper stairs. The twisted perception of freedom came closer, right in the tip of your fingers. Or Miguel's.

His gaze turned concerned once his red eyes fell on you.

"Hey" His hand examined your face. If it wasn't for your shaky breathing, he certainly think you'd be giving him the Thousand yards look. Some bits of your dress were stained in someone else's blood and gunk. Same for your feet, and quivering hands.

He frowned but the steps approaching alerted him.

"Listen to me." He instructed with an usually gentle tinge in his voice, "If I tell you to run, you run and don't look back. Got it?"

He was speaking but his words weren't registering in your head and a frustrated sigh escaped his lips, but he didn't say anything else. Too focused on getting out to properly pay attention to the lack of responsiveness from your end.

A sharp breath caught in Miguel's throat as the shadow of a man loomed over. Once again, your brain slowed down in registering when Miguel let your hand go and grabbed the armored man by the collar of his shirt, and shot him under the jaw.

"Move it!" He grumbled while taking your hand again and quickened his pace, you nearly tripped once you reached a corner. Never in your life you've felt a hall so long and never ending. But it finally rang in your brain, Miguel wasn't reaching the front where you had come from originally. He was making his way somewhere else, hence the many turns and stairs.

A sharp pain in your ankle finally managed to pull your terror hazed brain out of the stupor, for enough time to make your steps wobbly and fall behind as you reached the hall, leading to an exit door. Freedom a few inches ago.

Miguel growled at your apparent stupidity and reluctance, but seeing you on the floor, with a pained expression made his heart leap to his throat and he quickly rushed back to you.

"Hija de tu chingada madre..." He rubbed his face angrily to then take a quick look on your hands, following your movements. Your ankle, it bled, "Mira las pendejadas que me haces hacer." He grumbled while opening the door first. (look at the shit you make me do.)

Cause in truth, he would've left anyone behind, his life was too precious to waste over seasonal flings and his empire required his leadership as no other could match him. But he needed you alive. The reason of keeping you besides providing information about Massimo, still remained unclear even for him.

However the loud echoes of steps coming closer alerted him, and El Diablo quickly picked you up. His arms held you without trouble, like a forsaken and clad in golden bride and your hands once again clung to him, for dear life.

Your mind swirled again with all these unpleasant and overwhelming sensations, that made you whimper as soon as a cold gust of wind blew on your face. Skin soaring alive with goosebumps, melting away ever slowly the terrifying numbness.

"Miguel!" Peter's voice called, relieved to see his friend in a piece as he opened the door of a less fancy and powerful looking car, Ben already on the wheel.

"I'll call as soon as we clear up this place."

"Be careful, cabrón. And Jessica is in the meeting room." Miguel warned to his left hand, as you looked away to your ankle.

Peter gave a concerned frown your way but his attention fell back to his boss.

"Don't worry. We still have it. Now go."

He mumbled while hitting the car's hood and Ben drove away.

---

Sometimes you underestimated the power a single man held over others. Massimo sure was a good example of it as he always had at his disposition many other people whenever he was in charge. But Miguel was a prime example of what power truly meant.

You were sure that if you looked up the meaning you'd find a picture of him. And it amazed and terrified you equally.

The bellboy at the hotel seemed unfazed, and their superiors only welcomed Miguel with a respectful and acknowledging nod. None asked questions, as they knew better, none dared to say a word even if the curious glances remained on you, after all, he still held you in his arms.

If it wasn't for terrified and vacant look in your face, people would assume El Diablo had finally gotten a lady. It had been years since he came accompanied to the hotel, and years since people saw him with someone so close to him in the open.

Once the door from the suite closed, Miguel took you to the bed. Panicked fingers clung to his suit and he tried to pry them away from him.

"I thought you didn't want me?" he chuckled. A poor attempt to make the heavy and almost too quiet aura that fell over both to dissipate. But the smile quickly faded as soon as his eyes detected the redness in your eyes increase, like their glossiness.

Shit

You hiccuped and he sighed imperceptibly.

"We're safe now. You can let go."

But his words only tightened your grip on him, wrinkling his expensive shirt and suit.

Miguel frowned when your breathing pattern changed for the worst. Your mouth exhaled shallow and hurried breaths, as if your lungs were into an override and the thousand thoughts per second were the ones that dictated the tempo your lungs moved.

"Hey, hey, Ratoncita" He mumbled half alarmed and annoyed as he held your shoulders.

He had seen his fair share of reactions towards a shooting. Crying, screaming, blaming others, and even a meltdown. But your catatonia towards the shooting was something he as a criminal and victim had never seen before.

You had gone completely off, rigid, frozen. Like if someone did a pause button on you and left. And when he pulled you down, he nearly winced at how static and abnormally stiff you turned. Your eyes said it all. Terrified and disconnected from everything.

And this you before him, were finally grasping the sudden events that happened so quickly your brain barely had the time to register and process it, resulting in an anxiety attack that had you crying and shaking.

He called your name but you shook your head. Mind too stuck in that room, full of dead people. Falling corpses and rivers of blood pooling at your feet. Crimson rivers that grew and grew at incredible speed, suffocating the space you breathed.

"No!" You cried and he pried your hands unusually gently away from the lapels of his suit and caged your erratic and quivering form in his arms, expecting your struggle as you wriggled and tried to tear way the embrace, suffocated and a total gorgeous nervous wreck.

"I could've..." You half sobbed, half choked. And for a second you didn't know which terrified you beyond wits the more.

Your mind playing dirty tricks, or the unexpected soothing motions his hands begun rubbing on your back, comforting a bit too intimate for both likings perhaps.

"Shhh." He shushed and laid your body on the bed.

He wasn't one for comforting, as it never came in his line of work, he'd usually send money as a help to the families of his dead men, but beyond that, they'd be lucky to get an "I'm sorry" their way from him.

Miguel would be a liar if he didn't acknowledge your lack of response as atypical. But of course, he couldn't blame you either. This wasn't your lifestyle, nor the people you used to mingle with.

You had witnessed an array of criminal lords confessing their crimes, people getting murdered and other horrors in matter of minutes. It was only fair he gave your brain a bit of a break in the only way he knew, before you interrogated him.

"Close your eyes."

You shook your head and he sighed, to then hover over you. His eyes examining yours. A mix of a concerned frown and a scowl on his sharp face.

"Relax, you're safe now," He mumbled as his thumb dabbed the emerging tears away before dipping his head on your neck and deliver a soft kiss on your trembling skin.

You shuddered as he planted another, and another as a trail of them soon adorned your neck. One of his calloused hands rubbed up and down your arm, inflicting warmth in it.

"I-I Cant. I can't-" you mumbled between nervous stutters and his hands rubbed your shoulders.

"You can, preciosa. Focus on my voice, ok?"

His voice soft, a tone you've never heard from him before in the time you've been knowing him. And for it to come like this only increased your suspicions on him.

"You're - " An exhale left your mouth as he palmed your breast over the sequined and stained dress and kissed your cleavage with feathery touches.

A little smile peeked over his lips while his hands slid down your belly, waist and hips, caressing almost in adoration, as if paying attention for once at the minimal movements your skin did.

His red eyes studied you with clinical patience, and when his hands reached underneath your dress, he licked his lips at the sight of your chest falling and rising at his ministrations.

The fearful and erratic breaths slowly melted into soft yet coy pleasurable whimpers the more his hands explored your body.

Big palms squeezed your mounds softly, the tingling feeling of the dress' tickled his hand. His mouth ran up again your neck and his fingers slid the straps of your dress off your shoulders and arms, exposing your hardening nipples to him.

He might be a basic man sometimes to let his physical needs to win over his reasoning, but the way your skin reacted to him, couldn't be simply overlooked. This time he paid attention to everything.

And when his tongue rolled and curled around your nub, his pupils went wide blown at the way your mouth parted to let out a moan. Whatever he was doing, it was working.

The dress left your body, and the more skin he undressed, the more skin he needed to taste. Your flavor remained engraved in his brain that very first time he took a taste. And now everything that separated his tongue from your skin was that stupid yet pretty cotton lace thong.

With a new experiment on mind, he pried your thighs open. Hands left you for a minute to pull his ever trusting pocket knife and slice the sides of the flimsy piece of clothing. The soft pull snapped your head towards him and he massaged your inner thighs in return.

"You'll relax soon, muñeca." He nodded with half lidded eyes while he pulled the fabric covering your trembling cunt, and when your flesh was revealed, he had to swallow the excess of saliva pooling inside.

Smooth folds shivered at the sudden exposition, the small patch of hair, dressing your pubic mount was the cherry ontop while he parted open your folds.

You were about to close your legs but his face buried between your supple thighs to finally let his tongue to taste you.

By instinct your hands grope the sheets with a choked mewl and his hands grabbed tighter the fat of your thighs, positioning them ontop of his shoulders, ignoring the hissing pain from your injured ankle. And he ate.

He smirked as your spine arched and your hips pressed against his moving tongue. And by God, you felt every ounce of anxiety leaving your body with every lick and slurp he did.

You had to gulp down another moan as he hauled your hips up, One thigh on his shoulder as the injured one dangled carefully in his forearm, allowing you a perfect view of what his mouth could do.

He not only spilled threats and orders, but gobbled every bit of your skin like if an eating contest had ensued and he was fighting for a first place.

His tongue twirled your clit with such expertise your eyes couldn't keep up with his swift moves, and oh the deliciously obscene noises he made. Messy, wet and slurping your pussy like if he was coaxing your soul out to devour it too.

The tip of his nose rubbed against your own happy trail, you could feel him breathing through his nose, inhaling your sweet smell, and when he moaned...

Fuck.

Your toes curled again as your mouth gaped in the sluttiest of Oh's, gifting him with the sweetest of lewd cries and you swore he smiled while squeezing you closer to his mouth. Devouring you like a starving and angry dog. He growled, sending the reverberations of his chest through your body, like a spark igniting a much more dangerous fire, alive.

He pushed your hips forward, bending you slightly, making a show of how his tongue sunk in that snug drenched hole he had been in plenty of times, wriggling and fucking at a peace that only matched his fingers back in the dressing room.

He groaned and panted, allowing himself to breath for a moment before spreading your folds wider, admiring the wetness drooling and connecting to his chin and lips.

You'd never admit that no man had ever ate you like that. Hell, Massimo sometimes ate you but never lasted more than a couple of minutes before he started to complain about his jaw hurting. But El Diablo had a sinful tongue in all sense of the word.

"You have the prettiest and tastiest pussy I've ever eaten, muñeca." He hummed in approval as his fingers rubbed gently that little bundle of nerves, stretching and toying with your cunt.

His fingers prodded inside and then he slurped them clean, loving the way your taste invaded his mouth.

"Does it feels good, hmm?"

You nodded vehemently, anxiety long gone, and he made you watch once again as he gave you a tortuous and slow drag of the tip of his tongue all over your clit. Then he dribbled it around your engorged nub, alternating between powerful sucks.

"Use your words, Ratoncita. You want me to stop?"

You whined a frustrated and angry no. And he smirked, you were oh so close and he knew it by the way your walls pulsed against his wet muscle. He had succeeded in tearing each bit of fear out of you, while giving you a different thing to focus on. Pulling the sweetest and neediest moans out of you, inching you closer and closer to nirvana itself.

"Want me to-" He didn't get to finish as you pulled his head right in that spot that had your eyes rolling, your spine arching and hips stuttering. And just when you thought you had reached heaven, he made a toe curling suckling noise that made you experience the whole meaning of la petit mort.

"Miguel!" His skin shuddered at the way his name rolled over and over out of your swollen, flushed and gaping mouth. Breathlessly and mind bogglingly addictive, like your taste, like the feeling of your skin against his, like the bickering you often held. It fueled him.

His eyes fell, heavy with the hazy sensation of you cumming in his mouth. His tongue deliciously trapped and squeezed by your spasming and milking walls. His lips, cheeks and chin soaked up in you; hot breath panting on your quivering hole and his hands held you, like those gorgeous paintings of renaissance. The corruption of an angel would surely be the title.

Your heart pounded through your chest, throat and ears, each of your pores sung in delight. A little whimper escaped your mouth as he laid your overheated body down, back to earth and the silky sheets of the bed.

His hands rested on each side of your waist as his thumbs rubbed in lazy circles on the curvature of your stomach. Yet he froze when your hands brushed against his in such a gentle caress, that a shudder ran down his spine.

He could give different meanings to that sudden caress.

Loneliness, need, tiredness, the need of having someone close as the fear had returned, or the need of intimacy after such thing, something only couples did. Or so he believed.

With a heavy exhale, he removed his hands off your body. Mind quaked for a brief of second as his eyes remained glued to your searching hands, trying to reach for him.

But his task was completed. You no longer were all panicky and he could take a proper look at your ankle.

"Don't move." He instructed.

But how could you? Not that you had the energies for it either. In fact, your eyes drooped, trying to remain awake after such a hormone altering night. Every single emotion known to man, was felt tonight. The last thing you heard, was his steps disappearing further into the room before you fell off to sleep.

-----

Your eyes fluttered open, and soon they took in your current milieu. Silky sheets, a big empty bed occupied by none else but a naked you.

As soon as you removed the sheets to stand up, your gaze fell upon the bandaged ankle. Carefully patched up.

Standing didn't hurt as much as it did when you came to the suit. In fact, the smell of a familiar painkiller lingered in the air.

Your fingers reached for the sheets and covered your body with them. There wasn't those flaky and dried blood stains on it, the dress was tossed somewhere in the room, but something, rather, someone was missing.

Where is he?

Securing the sheets around you, you left the bedroom and headed for the mini lobby in the suite. The place was unusually quiet and still. Had he left?

Where did he go?

Your eyes didn't need to look up further.

Sprawled on the couch, was Miguel. Laid on the cushioned surface with an arm draped over his face. Mouth slightly ajar, relaxed despite him being larger than the couch.

He seemed at ease, truly sleeping for once. Not that you blamed him, the hint of eye bags sagging under his pretty eyes spoke for him most of the times. And for him to fall asleep anywhere but the bed said enough of his poor sleeping habits.

Run away.

The sudden thought made you blink. Intrusive and reckless as it was your brain kept going.

It's your perfect chance!

And in truth, it was. Miguel was sleeping, the hotel was probably full of people that would put you to safety, and you could finally get to your parents or the police.

Logic took control of you, and guided your steps towards that piece of wood and metal that prevented you from your freedom. Or was it the man behind you, sleeping? You didn't know. But the door was cold to touch, and the locks around it even colder.

A little too late you felt the ominous presence behind you, slamming a strong hand on the door, startling you.

"No te puedo dejar sola ni un pinche momento..." (I can't really leave you on your own for a moment)

Angry and scowling red eyes glared your way. It was impossible for Miguel to not corner you with his size, intentionally or not, you were now trapped between him and the sturdy door that barely budged your way.

"Escaping, really?! Mira que si eres mensa, te andan buscando y te quieres largar-" (You're so dumb, you're a target and you wanna leave-)

His mouth sputtered spanglish, while his hands pulled you by your waist away from the door, yet he kept you next to him, staring at you.

Why?

"You forgot to put the locks on."

That phrase alone and your sweet, honest voice stopped his train of thought.

"What?" As if baffled for his own stupidity and the initial confusion of you actually not attempting to escape, he blinked a couple of times and cleared his throat. And matter-of-fact he forgot to lock up the door.

With dexterous fingers he secured the door, in the meantime you limped your way towards the couch. Pressing your injured foot still made you uncomfortable enough to not force it completely.

The sound of the door rattling a bit and the locks turning soon stopped and your skin crawled as if recognizing being watched. Yet you sat on the couch, examining your foot.

"Why didn't you escape?" His voice packed with disbelief and confusion.

"Well, I wanna live longer and even if I did escape, this injury wouldn't take me far. So it's pointless."

Miguel didn't know if to be proud or relieved for your way of thinking, your adapting skills were surely something else. Now that your brain was calm, it was time to speak truths.

"Do you know who those mens were?"

He stepped closer and sat next to you in the reduced couch, staring at the bandages of your smooth skin.

"Kingpin sent them. Now you understand why I need to find your husband."

The tittle left a gagging feeling in his tongue and you sighed, while turning to face him.

"You say it like I truly know where Massimo is."

"You must know something, Ratoncita. Anything you can recall is useful."

"You'll kill him, won't you?"

The silence fell for a brief couple of seconds and he rubbed his face.

"Why... Why do you care so much for him when he's done nothing but hurting you?"

Your eyes rolled and your head shook.

"It's not that."

"You must be either too stupid or... too attached to still care for someone like that."

Your eyes looked away, but with a breath you gathered all the courage to stand against his low-key judging stare.

"I don't love him, okay? Not when he has... done all of this" Your hands gestured and he tilted his head.

"Why are you so concerned then? If anything I'd be doing you a Kingpin a favor."

"Cause!" You sighed, and rethought your words again, "Cause despite it all, getting rid of someone you've spent a good chunk of your life is not easy. Whatever is left... It doesn't go overnight like you or everyone makes it think."

His lips pursed softly and when he tried to rest his arms in the couch a sharp shot of pain coursed through his right arm.

"Shit." He grumbled and frowned when his fingers traced the soiled fabric of his suit. His muscles went rigid once more as soon as your fingers stroked the jagged hole in the fabric, clinical eyes raked over the darkened patch of dry blood.

"Go get the first aid kit."

"It's nothing, I can do that-"

"Go get it. It'll get infected."

A small chuckle crept up his lips as you bossed him around and he obeyed, disappearing for a moment to then return with what you asked.

"Let me see that." You instructed as you opened the kit, pulling out alcohol, gauzes and a sterile solution while he removed his suit and shirt. The latter with a little hiss.

To his little surprise, the shirt had stuck to his marred muscle. It wasn't pretty, but it wasn't that serious either for him. Nothing that he had seen already, but he let you indulge your curiosity.

"I'll clean it up, and then patch you up."

"I'm more than capable of doing so myself. "

"Yeah, no. Capable does not equals to being actually qualified for it." You had to stifle a laugh at his not so subtle pout.

"Oh and you are?"

"Well, yeah, butthurt. I'm a nurse actually."

Before he could speak, he hissed and glared at your moving hands. You doused the injury in the sterile solution and wiped it off with a gauze, then dabbed alcohol in another and cleaned up his wound.

"Well look at that. I thought you were a trophy wife."

It was your turn to pout, and you pressed his wound, earning a pained yelp.

"Ya! Ya estuvo. Perdón." He grumbled and you huffed. (Ok, ok, Sorry.)

"Idiot. Relax. I'm cleaning you properly cause people tend to underestimate bullet grazes. Had a lot of them back in ER." You dabbed another clean gauze on him and sighed, "But... I guess quitting the job to be a housewife, but husband is never home yet you still gotta keep up the place and look pretty, sure turns anyone into a trophy wife."

Miguel let your words sink in properly before he spoke again. "Why did you quit your job?"

"They paid shit and Massimo promised to handle everything. We had a lot of fights regarding our works and the lack of apparent love. So, I quitted. He wanted to be the provider."

Miguel just watched you moving, feathery touches hovered over his skin. You were careful and gentle, unlike the pissed off attitude doctors that always patched him up. A reason why he learned to do it himself.

"You know I have to kill him, right?." He mumbled and you stopped for a moment.

Your jaw tensed but with a couple of blinks, the underlying discomfit vanished. Curiosity instead came over.

"Why? Why not simply catch him and bring him to the police?

He rolled your eyes at your constant questioning and your borderline innocent sense of justice.

"Preciosa... A man like your husband is a parasite. Men like him hurt for the sake of proving their egos are bigger than their dicks. He leeches off from people's need. He's beyond salvation and the police would release him a couple of hours later."

"I know, but-"

He groaned, completely vexed, "There is no buts in here! You simply don't cross dangerous people and expect to come out unscathed. It is how it is in this world! He dragged you to this whole mess, yet you-"

Miguel tightened his hands into fists but quickly released them over his knees, nostrils flared angrily, "You still care. When you obviously shouldn't. Why? Help me understand that, please."

"Cause, he's everything I've known so far. And I know I have no excuse to make up for him, but... I guess I truly wanted to believe he was a good guy." You mumbled with a tired and almost lost look, "And as much as I'd love to shoot him for lying, I couldn't be at ease knowing I'd become the same filth as he is, if I do."

"So you simply forgive him like that? Puras mamadas." He shook his head, irked. (That's pure bullshit)

"No. What I'm trying to say is that I do hate him for what he did. He lied to me. You... You never fully recover from something like that, and it's worse when you fucking vowed honesty at the altar." Your voice cracked and a shaky breath escaped your lips as you bandaged him. You had to swallow the upcoming wave of nostalgia to steady your voice and thoughts again.

"But that doesn't mean I wish him death. He's simply not worth it. And sometimes It's better to let people's own shit to drown them." You applied some antiseptic through the graze, already bursting with bruises.

"So following that logic, you just let him do whatever he wants until someone gives him what he deserves? Thats... stupid. "

"Stupid maybe, but at least I sleep as good as I can knowing there's not blood in my hands. I mean, just cause I hate someone means I want them dead."

"You want me dead?"

The question threw you off guard, and still you shook your head. "No. You've been awful, sure. But I don't want you dead."

"So that means you hate me."

Your face and it's exasperated gesture amused him.

"I don't. Despite the bad shit you've done. Like... Why choosing this? You could always start again, somewhere else. Or change your name, I don't know!"

Miguel laughed, a bit too bitter for his own taste at your foolish hope, "Ratoncita hermosa... There is no way out of this. And if there is, you know what is like."

The lump in your throat rolled down and you breathed, defeated as your touch secured his wound. His hands scrolled down his phone upon the trinket buzzing away and his brows puckered for a minute while he read the message Peter had sent. Then tossed the device on the table.

"I always wanted to have a little property in Italy or... Ireland. I loved their rural areas."

He stared your way for a minute and looked at your hands, picking up the used things and putting them away in a bag, "What happened?"

"I got married."

He tittered and you followed with a soft shake of your head, amused at your own misfortune.

"In fact, don't get married. It's too painful."

"Noted." Miguel nodded and looked at your finger, wrapped in the golden band. "You'll keep that?" His long fingers brushed your smaller ones, examining the trinket with attention. A pretty yet simple ring. Like the pretense of your marriage.

"Yeah, it could come in handy in an emergency. I could need money, so..."

His touch lingered for a little longer and your eyes remained on him.

"You're quite optimistic despite having a crime lord tailing after you."

"You truly know how to sour a moment. Don't remind me."

"Someone's gotta be realistic here." He shrugged.

You sighed and scooted closer, the space shortening between you made his his mouth swallow.

"You think we can make it through?"

His brow quirked, confused than ever, "We?"

"Well, yeah, you're a target, I'm also a target now... And you got me under your roof, you protect me and... Long story short that makes me your problem now."

Miguel's regarded you with a quizzical look, unsure of what feeling to put on his face.

"I don't know." It wasn't a truth, nor a complete lie. He truly didn't know if he'd live another day, and this current talk poked at those thoughts he often pushed in the back of his train of thought.

Was there an easy way? Of course not. The fear or not making it to tomorrow had been rooted deeply to the point of just letting it sink and grow used to.

Death was a possibility yet something he often contemplated, but his mind always found it too dark and too soon to think about it. He had his own projects and it would be a terrible inconvenience for him to not see them concluded.

"I hope so. I... Guess you're not that bad after all."

"Thanks? You're not that annoying either."

"So... what happens now?" Your thigh escaped the confinements of the silky sheets that covered your body and his eyes trailed briefly towards it, before returning his gaze on your gorgeous and pouty face.

"We remain hidden. It's too soon to go back to my place, so you better behave. And I mean it. If I tell you to-"

"I get it. I must obey without questioning."

"Or interrupting." He tipped your mouth carefully, "Just do as you're told and your chances to go to Italy will be greater."

"Can I ask you something?"

"You're already are, preciosa." He smirked and stood, his neverending back facing you, littered with faint scars and scratches and he stretched.

"Wha- Ugh. No, like an actual petition."

"And what could you possibly want now?"

"I just... wanna know if my parents are alright, It's been a while since I heard from them."

"I'll see what I can do."

"Miguel?"

He turned around and watched you with his usual stare.

"Hm?"

"Thanks."

He nodded and went to the bedroom for a shower, thankfully you turned around in time to not see the smile that crept up his lips.

----

@bunnibitez @gabrielarose29 @night-spectrum @miss-canon-event @reverieblondie @choppednerdtriumph @amelialysm @tatatida @daddysfavoritesexkitten @huniedeux @blissdoubtyattuma @rositabluemoon @freehentai @solesurvivorjen @ewan-tef @miranexx @madastrid @sukioyakio @whos-writting-stuff @spiderbunny00 @unsatisfiedanddisappointed @ginger23 @bammzyboomy @mmyyhhhh @escape-your-nightmare @m4dyy @mxtokko @lauritajn @pearlescenthearts @bookshied @stevespixie @crimin4llyins4ne @6thhokageswife @rabiebarbie @ellieaze @babyprofessorsharkpalace

@hermione8888 @ang3l-dust1 @eepybunny0805 @mafiaanomaly @sana-4 @brlwla @alitaar @kenmaspuddinghair

#t writes✨#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #el diablo wears prada ♦️♣️#mafia au #mafia! miguel #miguel o hara x reader #miguel ohara smut #spiderman 2099 smut

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thelibrarian1895 · 3 months

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Bruce is the restraining bolt

Let's say that Bruce "dies" again. Tim, of course, figures it's another temporary thing and bonus he doesn't need to risk another organ to prove it this time. That being said, Bruce isn't around to stop them now. Dick doesn't feel the need to be the dad this time since Bruce will be back. He's the big brother, the babysitter at best. Jason has never felt the need to step up into a parental role for any of his sibs before and he's not going to stop now. Cass won't kill, that is her line, beyond that, she's not anyone's parent either. Tim is one bad day away from being a supervillain, he seriously needs a vacation but at the same time he needs something that will keep him busy or he will get paranoid (thanks B for the trauma) and so he's not going to stop anyone, Duke doesn't have the experience to know when or if he should stop any of his sibs, steph and barbara are staying out of it as while they are family they consider themselves cousins at best no matter what B says, and no one is going to let Damian boss them around.

That being established, B is gone, Alfred is fretting but not inclined to stop anyone anyway, the kids decide that while the bat is away...

When Bruce returns, Alfred is just returning from a spa trip his beloved grandchildren insisted that he go on since he deserved a nice break and they even investigated to make sure the spa wasn't a scam or front! While Alfred was gone and Bruce was "dead", all Black Mask's warehouses had been mysteriously destroyed with large explosions that Bruce had previously forbidden because he was worried about collateral damage since some of those warehouses were sandwiched by other storage facilities and places where people squatted. (Steph and Jason, both very affronted because they are professionals B! And yes, there were also glitter bombs involved, it made the fire extra pretty with the different colors).

Furthermore, Lex Luthor is no longer the majority shareholder of his own company anymore, that would be Tim now, and all of Lex's employees are rejoicing since they're all getting a pay raise that brings them from the legal bare minimum to not just a living wage but twice that plus benefits even for those who aren't full timers (which is basically everyone, lex never wanted to get benefits for anyone). Lex is also being investigated for embezzling, money laundering, domestic and international terrorism, and the trafficking of minors (kon). Lex chose a very bad time to make Kon sad and Tim took that personally.

Bruce also discovered that Tim's childhood home, aka the drake's old place next door for the given value of next door, has been demolished and that whole area is now a botanical garden and registered wildlife sanctuary. (Damian with assistance and permission from Tim since technically the land was in Tim's name, Damian persuaded Poison Ivy to help while also monitoring to ensure she didn't slip in anything detrimental and also breaking up the exotic animal smuggling ring that B had been trying to keep from him to prevent this very thing. Tim, in the meantime, just happened to have a number of people on hand more than happy to work in a botanical garden/wildlife sanctuary and no, none of those people were ever formerly ninja who answered to Ra's before realizing that Red Robin was a far better employer, why would you ever think they were?)

And of course, the Joker is dead. None of his kids are fessing up to this. If pressed, they will cry, even Jason, and say that they thought Joker killed their dad and they wished it had been them because they missed him so much! (It was Dick and Barbara, Babs faked the paperwork for Dick to go in as an orderly, Dick, in disguise, gave the Joker altered medication via injection and made sure to get some air bubbles in for good measure, official COD was a totally natural brain aneurysm, so sad, no autopsy needed, burn the body)

Duke was a bit of a wild card and ended up hanging out with Selina, picking up a few extra skills, and using those skills to break into various mansions and apartments of the filthy rich to steal back stolen art and artifacts and return them to museums in their country of origin so they can be enjoyed by everyone (he watched indiana jones recently and the "it belongs in a museum" popped into his head a lot, he did wear a particular hat while he was committing his heists) It was nice potential step mother and step son bonding time

And finally, Cass causes Ra's Al Ghul to lose a particular appendage, one that the lazarus pit hasn't been able to grow back for him thanks to a little consultation with Constantine beforehand. She then went to hang out at Themyscira and got some very pretty bracelets.

Bruce is thinking very hard about just turning around. He takes a nap instead and then he lectures his beloved nutcases about personal safety, the law, respecting what is essentially dibs on certain super villains, and all the other boring stuff he's tried to impose on them over the years.

#bruce wayne #batfamily #batman #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #signal #stephanie brown #duke thomas #alfred pennyworth #crack fic idea #cassandra cain #cassandra wayne

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hotchfiles · 3 months

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↪ day eight. choices — #marchhotchness

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ [tell me to regret it] ❞

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader. summary: aaron prides himself of making good choices. until he makes one he regrets. content warnings: not proofread, pretty sure only one gender mark (miss) by the very very end, a bit of angst, a bit of fluff, happy ending. light mention of sex. word count: 1.1k

At first, Aaron prided himself on making good choices, at least after graduating high school. All his choices were thought out to the best outcome. His major, Law School, his job, Haley.

He then prided himself on standing by his choices. Even if the outcome wasn’t the best. Even if it wasn’t the easiest choice to make, he stood by them. He took the bullet, he accepted the consequences.

When Haley filed for a divorce he wanted to fight it, he did, but Aaron knew she had spent too much of her life dealing with his choices. He knew it wasn’t fair for her to fight for a broken marriage because his career was too important to him.

Every single day he chose to pick up the phone, he chose to leave, he chose to work after hours. So he signed the divorce papers, letting her free to make her own life decisions.

Whenever the BAU faced repercussions for their actions on the field on any cases, he took the heat at all times, the eyes of the higher ups were always on him and he took advantage of that to let the team work more freely. If needed, he would take the fall and it would’ve been his choice. And he would be happy with it.

There was one decision though, one choice that he made that kept heaving on his mind. He made it, he thought it was the right one at the time and he was living through the consequences.

Still every time he saw your eager eyes or heard you laughing at something Emily said, that sharp pang in his heart would take his mind to the last time you truly talked.

So much so he ended up calling you to his office, not thinking clearly, not planning it out. He just heard your voice at the end of the day, happy, laughing, apparently not suffering from the distance he had chosen to put between you two and for once he was selfish with every intention to be so.

“Need help with anything, boss?” The title tastes bitter in your tongue and it hits Aaron just the same. He was Hotch. And then Aaron. Old man. Babe and love. Never boss.

Boss came after he told you your relationship couldn’t go on. It would hurt your career and his. Boss was now the only way you referred to him, as that was what he chose to be.

His attempts to lock eyes with you don’t go unnoticed, but they remain unfruitful as you focus on his desk and your fingers fidget with your necklace.

“Not exactly… I–I just wanted to talk to you. We haven’t spoken privately in a while.” Your eyes immediately find his, the hurt and the anger filling them in a way he never saw before, he felt it piercing through his soul and he almost regrets not thinking it through before calling you in. Almost.

“There’s a reason for that. We don’t have anything to discuss privately.”

“Does it have to be like this?”

“I don’t understand, what do you want me to say, Hotchner? That we can be friends? Pretend nothing ever happened between us?” You’re both glad the door behind you is closed, even if it’s late and everyone has left by now. Your voice is slightly raising more and more with each response you give him.

That’s not what he wants, he selfishly wants to hear your voice crack while speaking to him, he wants you to tell him you miss him, to force out of his tongue what he desperately needs to tell you: That he regrets the choice he made that night.

He regrets being afraid when you never were. That he’s sorry he pushed you away when you were always an open book. That seeing you seemingly happy and moving right on with your life was killing him because he couldn’t even begin to think of doing the same.

Aaron glances quickly at his window to make sure once more that the bullpen is empty and gets up, getting just close enough that you won’t leave. “Don’t you miss me? U–Us?” Funnily enough, his voice is the one cracking up as he speaks.

“Aaron, don’t be cruel.” Your voice is barely a whisper, not similar to the one you showed him minutes before, your eyes divert from him again, knowing that if you look at him too much you might tear up and that’s not you.

“I’m not doing that.”

“You are. You sleep with me, tell me you love me. You push me away, break up with me. And now this? Just… Don’t.” It hits him sharper than a knife how hard he hurt you then. He’s a profiler, he should’ve noticed it, instead he chose to notice only the happy smiley façade you put up to work every day so you could face him.

He usually wouldn’t do this in the middle of an argument but maybe he needs to start reevaluating how he makes his choices and this is one of those, so he pulls your hand and although you flinch at his touch you don’t pull away, so he hugs you tight, your arms are dead limbs by your side but his are strong around you, as is his cologne filling your senses, both bring you that familiar feel of safety.

“I’ve been foolish, and afraid and selfish. And possibly a handful of other adjectives. But I would never purposefully be cruel to you.” Aaron pulls away from the embrace only slightly, taking your face with both his hands so you can see how true his words are by the look on his eyes. You begin to feel your arms again, sliding them up to his chest where you feel the rapidness of his heartbeat. “I miss you, give me a chance to try this again?”

You’re not certain it will work, but you know that he means his words. And you know your heart is beating just as fast as his because just being embraced by him meant everything. So you nod once slowly, seeing his lips turn into a grin as he pulls you into a gentle kiss.

His lips taste like hope, hope he won’t make any decision he will regret again. But mostly, it tastes like cheap coffee, which causes you to laugh into the kiss.

“Is this all because I stopped bringing you coffee from the coffee shop?” Aaron laughs out loud, a laughter unlikely to be heard by most people, but then again, you are not most people. He shakes his head in disbelief at what you’re saying and licks his lips.

“You’re getting way too good at noticing details, miss liaison.”

“Just when it comes to you.”

#lari writes sometimes #lari march hotchness #marchhotchness #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch imagine #hotch scenario

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getosbigballsack · 9 months

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𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝑵𝒆𝒘 𝑻𝒐𝒚

𝑮𝒆𝒕𝒐 𝑺𝒖𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒖 𝒙 𝑺𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒓 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒙 𝑮𝒐𝒋𝒐 𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒖

𝑺𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔: 𝑨 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒗𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒊𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝒃𝒐𝒚 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒂 𝒕𝒐𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒍𝒍 𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒆.

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈: 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒔 𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔, 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒋𝒐𝒃, 𝒌𝒊𝒅𝒏𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒆𝒙

𝑨/𝑵: 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒖𝒍𝒍 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒐𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒍𝒚. 𝑰 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕𝒔 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅. 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒔 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒔, 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒊𝒎 𝒈𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒕𝒎. 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌𝒔 𝒕𝒐 @noroi1000 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒑𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆. 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖♥︎❥︎❤︎❣︎

𝑾𝑪: 3.2𝒌

𝑮𝒆𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑮𝒐𝒋𝒐'𝒔 𝑾𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝑯𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆✯

𝑬𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚❤︎

You should've accepted your best friend's offer to ride home with you when she inquired if you needed a ride. You should've answered yes instead of being arrogant and choosing to walk home alone in the middle of the night.

Your hand wrapped tightly around your frame as you hugged the fur coat that did little to keep you warm, the heels you wore digging into the back of your heel, it hurt so much that you just wanted to kick the shoes off your feet and walk barefooted along the dirty, gravelled stone pavement.

You were unhappy as it was, and to make matters worse, you occurred to step into a muddy puddle of water. "Fuck my life," you hissed as you brushed off your heels and walked back home. You didn't live too far away from the club; it was only a fifteen-minute walk to your flat.

That’s why you chose to walk, but it would have been wiser to accept your best friend's offer instead of going home in 7-inch heels and stumbling in puddles.

You murmured again, raising your head to the heavens, and asking, "Why do I have to live such a difficult life? Stripping isn't working for me. I can't afford to pay my bills or rent, and I have no idea what I'm going to eat tomorrow."

Yes, life is difficult, and as much as you disliked complaining, you had no choice but to do so. You're constantly stuck trying to figure out what you were going to do, and tonight was no exception since, for one thing, you didn't make a single dollar. Not only that, but you also got into an intense argument with your boss.

“Fuck…” you screamed. Your life just sucked.

You were so preoccupied with your thoughts that you didn't notice the sound of heavy footsteps approaching you. When you realised someone was following you, it was too late because they already had you against their chest and a knife at your throat.

“Now, now small thing, if you play nice, I promise I won’t kill you,” they whispered as they pressed the knife even more against your neck.

You swallow thickly, your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you thought - How can my day get any worse than this - before opening up your lips to ask the person that held you, “What do you want?”

“Well, my boss would like to have you in his bed,” they said to you.

“Oh,” you said. You weren’t expecting that to be the answer. You were hoping that he’d ask for sex, a blowjob, money that you didn’t have, or something else. But this was unexpected. “Well, tell your boss…that… that I’m not interested.”

“I can’t do that small thing,” they said back to you.

“Why?” you asked them.

“Following orders ma’am,” they responded.

“Well, how about I suck your cock and you fuck me for free and after you're done, just let me go,” you offered. “You can just tell him that I got run over by a car or better, yet I jumped off a building.”

You were hoping that they’d accept your offer and fuck you, but instead they laughed. “As tempting as those sounds. I can’t do that ma’am my boss or better bosses don't like when their toy is being played with.”

Toy? Now that word is a triggering word for you because for starters you weren’t a damn object, and you most certainly will never be. So, you sighed yet again. “Sir could you please just let me go… I’ll”

“Don’t even try to make an offer, just play nice and come with me. My bosses are expecting you to arrive soon. No, to make this easier on us,” he said as he removed the knife from your neck. “Let’s put you to sleep.”

Then suddenly a rag was held against your nose, and the hand that wrapped around your waist tightened. “No… No,” you screamed, your fright and flight finally kicked in. You began thrashing around in his arms. "Please don't do this."

"Be quiet!" The man whispered in your ear. "NO amount of struggling will help. It'll be over faster if you just breathe."

You shook your head not as you tried to fight your way out of his arms. But his grip only got tighter, and the rag that was pressed against your nose was now covering your mouth. "Please! Don't do this to me," you begged hoping that he'd have a bit of sympathy for you and just let you walk free.

But this man, he valued his life more than yours. If he messed up his mission to take you to his bosses, then he knew that his head would be used as an example of what would happen if anyone failed a mission again.

"Breathe!" A single tear dropped from your eye when you took a deep breath and breathed in the scent of the drug that was on the rag. Your eyes felt a bit heavy, your body getting slightly weak when the substance began to take over your body.

It wasn't long though, before your body turned limp into his arms as you continued to breathe in the most unforgiving drug. "That's it, just breathe." And that's the last thing you heard before your eyes closed and everything around you went completely dark.

…

"Ugh, Sugu please… wh- when is my t- toy getting here," the white-haired man stuttered through his moans as he clung to his partner for dear life.

"Mhm… be patient Satoru," Geto Suguru, his partner in crime whispered, his lips against Gojo Satoru's ear just sucking at his lobe as his hand gently pumped his cock.

"But… but I wanna play with her now…" Gojo whined.

"Brat!" Geto hissed. "Remember what I told you. I went through so much trouble finding a suitable toy just for you." Gojo grunted, his head rolling against Geto's shoulder, teeth gnawing at his bottom lip trying his hardest to hold back the moan that was fighting to spill from his lips. "You better take good care of this one."

"But what… ugh fuck… what if she's like the rest of them? I don't want a useless… toy," Gojo whined.

"Just shut the fuck up and cum for me," Geto hissed before kissing Gojo's lips while his hand sped up a bit. "Gonna cum for me, pretty boy!"

"Yes! I'm going to cum,"

Amid their intimacy, the door to their chambers slowly opened revealing their trusted employee (or so they thought) walking inside with you lying unconscious in their arms.

“Oh, my fucking God, I was just about to fucking CUM,” Gojo shouted, his hand reaching for the gun tucked away in the back of Geto’s pants and fired it at the man who stood before them. Luckily for him, Geto was quick enough to tap the gun downwards just before the shot fired and the bullet ended up landing at the man’s feet. “Don’t you know when too… Ugh!”

“That’s right pretty boy cum for me,” Geto cooed as he gently pulled the gun from his lover’s grip, his hand that was firmly wrapped around his cock moving just a bit faster as he brought Gojo closer and closer to the brink of his ecstasy.

“Yes… yes… yes,” Gojo screamed, both his hands wrapping themselves around Geto’s neck, face buried into his chest, lip biting and toes curling as a rope of cum shot from the blush pink tip of Gojo’s veiny cock into the calloused palm of Geto’s hands.

“That’s a lot of cum Satoru,” Geto said, chuckling as he lifted his hand and showed it to Gojo.

“Not my fault,” Gojo mumbled.

“Of course not.” Gojo hummed while Geto grabbed a few napkins that were surprisingly on the bed and wiped the cum away from his hand. “Toji, you have the goods I see.”

“Yup!” he answered nonchalantly, not even phased by the fact that he almost got shot by Gojo Satoru just a few minutes ago. Well, that was nothing new to him anyway, Gojo had pointed a gun to his head, the first day he began working for them.

“Put her on the bed.” Toji hummed as he walked towards the bed and placed on the soft duvet sheets. “It wasn't too much of a hassle to get her now, was it?”

“Nah, she just talked too much,” Toji replied. “I’ll be taking my leave then. Have a good night Geto.” With that Toji spun around on his heels and left the room and closed the doors behind him.

“Satoru… look there she is,” Geto said while smiling and pointing at your body on the bed. Though his legs were trembling a bit, Gojo managed to ease himself from Geto’s lap and crawled out to where his body was. “Be careful now.”

“Mhm… whatever,” Gojo groaned, still his hand lifted to stroke the apples of your cheeks. Oh yes, he’s already thinking of all the nasty things he could do with such a pretty face like yours. The hickeys he’ll leave on your jaw and neck, the bite marks and nails scraping against your cheek… oh all the things he could do to you. “Gonna have so much fun with you. Pretty baby.”

…

The sound of a man whining and groaning against your ear had you immediately jumping out of whatever deep slumber you were in. “Fuck…” you hissed as your foggy eyes tried to make out your surrendering.

“Finally awake I see…” an unfamiliar voice whispered against your ear before a warm pair of lips were planted against your cheek. Your head quickly snapped into the mysterious voice direction, your hand resting against the jaw that was previously kissed.

“Who… who are you?” you asked, your eyes still a bit foggy but you could still see a head of white hair, and crystalline blue eyes staring right at you. “Who are you and what do you want with me?”

“Sex! Hugs! Kisses! And more SEX! But Sugu said that I’m not supposed to touch you. Sad but the longer the wait the sweeter the reward, pretty girl,” he said smiling from ear to ear. You tried to move away from him only to be pushed back against the duvets and the man now hovering over you. “Now, now don’t be like that. I was kind enough to not fuck you in your sleep. Don’t let me regret my decision and just fuck you right here.”

“Satoru… Be nice. Poor girl must be terrified. Get up and let me chat with her,” Another man spoke as he appeared behind whose name you now know to be Satoru. “Hi there princess, you look a little scared.”

“Where am I?” you asked, as tears began streaming from your eyes. “Why am I here? I wanna go home.”

“See, you’re scaring her, move!” With that said, the man pushed Satoru away from you. “It’s ok now princess, no need to be scared. I’m not gonna hurt you,” he calmly stated as he pulled you towards him.

“I wanna go home, please…” you cried.

“Hm? I don’t understand, you’re already home,” he answered while using his thumb and wiping your tears from your cheek. You looked at him in shock, your eyes now finally clearing up and now staring deeply into the man’s small golden eyes while he stared back at you. “You wanna leave the comfort of your home to go live inside a shabby apartment pretty girl? You break my heart.”

“But… but…”

“Now… now… no buts. I suggest you go along with the flow and don’t ask any unnecessary questions princess unless you wanna be punished on the first day. You don't want that to happen now do we?" You quickly shook your head not as soon as the words punishment fell from his lips. “Good girl. Now stop the foolish crying and let us introduce ourselves. My name is Geto Suguru and that is my partner and lover Gojo Satoru. What is your name?”

You sniffed and swallowed deeply, your fist balling into your lap as you opened up your lips and answered, “Y/N.”

He smiled, a charming smile at that as he lifted his hand to stroke your tear-stained cheek, “Such a pretty name for a pretty girl, right Satoru?”

“Mhm…” Satoru answered while smiling at you too.

“Come here,” Geto called as he held his hand out for you to take. You stared at it for a bit, wondering if holding his hand was the right thing to do. But given the situation that you’re currently in, it seems as if it was the only thing you were allowed to do. So, you took hold of his hand. Your sweaty palms slid over his hot calloused hands, fingers slotted between his before folding your fingers over his knuckles and holding tightly onto your hand.

“Let’s have a look around your new home, shall we? Satoru led the way for us,” and with that said, Geto pulled you closer to him before sliding his arm under your thighs and gently lifted you from the bed. You were a bit frightened, but you remained calm hoping that if you stayed still in his arms, he wouldn't drop you.

“As you can see, this is our bedroom,” Gojo said as he began walking around the room. “You’ll be here for most of the time. Sugu and I have to work so you’ll have to stay here and wait like a good little wife. Plus, we'll have plenty of sex in here also.”

“Toru…” Geto called out to him in a slight warning tone.

“Mhmm… whatever,” Gojo grumbled. During that time of them bickering for a bit, you took the time to look around the all-white room. The walls were white, and the carpets on the floor were white. The king-size bed in the middle of the room was elegantly dressed in soft white duvet sheets with white and seashell-coloured pillows.

To the left of the room was what you assumed to be a closet, based on the design and the shapes of the double doors. “That's our closet dear. And inside the closet in a bathroom, Satoru will show it to you when it’s time for you to take a bath.”

You only nodded as you looked to the right of the room to see a Jacuzzi. What’s a Jacuzzi doing inside of a bedroom? A look of confusion crossed your face and Geto realised this. “What is it, princess?”

Princess!? You thought. What a nice name to be calling a girl who he just kidnapped. “Uhm… what’s a jacuzzi doing inside of the bedroom?”

“Ah… it’s there so that you don’t have to leave the room. You have a big bed to sleep on while you wait for us. A nice huge closet to play dress up in while you wait for us, a small little living room area that you’re soon about to see, and a jacuzzi to keep you from getting bored,” Geto answered.

“You wanna keep me locked up?”

“Yes,” Gojo answered with no hesitation. “Why should my precious toy leave their playroom? You should be in here waiting until I am ready to play with you. Don’t worry Sugu will play with you too.”

You looked at both of them in disbelief. What was going on right now? You were drugged, kidnapped, and now being told that you were going to be locked up inside of a house like a toy? And what can we call this reaction of yours? Shouldn’t you be freaking out? Crying and screaming hysterically until they both got fed up with your bullshit and threw you out?

Why are you so calm? Well, I guess you can say you’ve been through so much bullshit in your life, nothing ever really phased you for too long. Sigh.

“The only way for you to leave this room is to be on your best behaviour. All you have to do is follow our rules, do as we say, and you’ll get a free pass to do anything that you want for a day, do you understand?” Geto asked and you shook your head yes. “Good princess. Now Toru is gonna take you to the bathroom. You need to take a bath and get changed out of these dirty clothes.”

Gojo took you from Geto’s arms and then slowly made his way towards the bathroom. “When you get back, we’ll talk about the rules and punishments.”

…

Once Gojo showed you to the bathroom. It didn’t take much time for you to shower and get changed. Oh, you had to say that you thought that Gojo was going to be the one to shower you, but surprisingly he left right after he showed you what products you’re supposed to use.

Anyways, after showering you got changed into white lingerie that featured a flattering and full asymmetrical hem to highlight your legs' line, adjustable spaghetti straps for a great fit, and true beauty are revealed via the bicolour flowery lace cups. Lace chemise lingerie has front closure styling to show off your cute bump and will not bind your tummy, making it a fantastic choice for pregnant ladies. "METAL front hook closure" details help to produce a stunning bust line. The dress is made of delicate lace and mesh, is stretchy and breathable, and has distinctive embroidery that precisely shows your body line.

It’s beautiful.

You then move on to drying your hair, brushing your teeth, and moisturising your skin before stepping out of the bathroom to see Gojo straddling Geto’s lap, with his head resting against Geto’s shoulder and Geto’s arms gently patting his back. “There she is.”

“Took you long enough,” Gojo said as he removed himself from Geto’s lap. He sat on the bed beside Geto then patted his lap while he beckoned you to come closer to him. “Sit,” he ordered, and you quickly walked over to him and sat yourself in his lap.

“You look beautiful princess,” Geto complimented, and you shook your head yes. “Nuh huh, say thank you.”

“Th- Thank you.”

“Good girl, now remember what I said about rules and punishment earlier?” Geto asked and you shook your head yes. “Well, Satoru and I only have two rules. Rule number one: Don’t leave the room without either of us. Rule number two: Just do as you’re told without question. If you’re able to follow those simple rules, then you won’t get punished.”

“What happens if I break a rule?” you asked.

“Well, it depends. Say for instance you break rule number one, if we catch then that is 30 spanks. Break rule number 2, then the punishment varies, from spanks to ass fucking, to overstimulation or even worst humiliation, meaning we’ll take you on a walk outside,” Geto said while smiling from ear to ear.

“Not just any walk, pretty girl,” Gojo chimed in.

“What do you mean?” you asked while raising your brow at them.

“Hm… Break the rule and you’ll find out. Now let's get to bed, hm, you must be tired.”

“No, I want a kiss first,” Gojo demanded.

“You heard him pretty girl, give him a kiss,” and with that, you pressed your lips against his, and not even a moment later he began to devour them. “There you go getting comfortable with Satoru.”

It’s not like you had a choice anyway, it’s either do as they say or suffer the consequences.

And that is not something you want after all your life was already hard enough.

𝐴𝑛𝑦𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑑𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘. 𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑜𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑔. 𝐼𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑠 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑒.

@getosbigballsack 2023

𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑻 𝑻𝑾𝑶 𝑩𝒀 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑾𝑨𝒀?

𝑾𝑯𝑶 𝑲𝑵𝑶𝑾𝑺 𝑴𝑨𝒀𝑩𝑬. 𝑫𝑬𝑷𝑬𝑵𝑫𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑶𝑵 𝑯𝑶𝑾 𝑾𝑬𝑳𝑳 𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑹𝒀 𝑫𝑶𝑬𝑺.

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farfromstrange · 2 years

Text

Customer Service | Matt Murdock

Pairing: Matt Murdock x afab!reader

Summary: After a particularly rough week, all you want to do is cry. It has you on edge and makes you say things you don’t mean. After letting out your anger on your boyfriend, he makes it his mission to take care of you for a change.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ MINORS DNI, oral (f receiving), Matt Murdock eats pussy like a champ, fingering, squirting (I feel filthy), emotional hurt/comfort, no use of y/n, no pronouns, reader has female body parts, 1st person pov (?)

a/n: As someone who quit their job in customer service for the exact same reasons I have stated in this fic, this is very personal to me and self-indulgent, again. I wrote this after a particularly bad day. Sometimes I wish Matt were real so he could actually do this to me.

There is nothing in all of existence that I loathe more than people. Why I chose to work in customer service in the first place has become more and more of a mystery to me. I could have quit after the first week, I should have, but whenever the thought crosses my mind, I tell myself: ‘It’s going to get better. You will get used to it.’ I did not, in fact, get used to it. Or, I did, I just started to hate myself even more. Every day I get home from an eight-hour shift, I’m tired, I’m exhausted and I feel the desperate need to throw myself off a cliff.

There are days when it’s easier. The elderly couple who comes in every Sunday, for example, to drink their coffee and have a lengthy conversation over a piece of cake, never fails to make me smile. They’re always kind, and forthcoming and they tip, even though I know they don’t have the money to.

Or the woman who likes to pick up lunch for her husband, she always calls me sweetheart, and she’s never bothered if her order takes just a little too long. The regulars chat me up and I like it because it makes me feel less alone behind the counter, as life passes me by and I can’t help to stare at the clock every five minutes to calculate how many hours of the day are left. They make it easier to forget about the overtime I inevitably have to put in every night. They know I don’t eat enough or smile enough or drink enough, and so they make me smile because they’re good people.

But some continuously want to tell me how to do my job, the one I’ve given blood and sweat for to master down to the smallest detail, and those who treat me like I’m responsible for their bad days and those who don’t care that I’m human, I just have to serve.

It’s so exhausting that some people don’t care about the workers behind the counter. I hate that my boss doesn’t seem to care either, that we don’t get paid enough, and that I’m expected to jump whenever they want me to. I got a life too, but that doesn’t matter because I’m cheap and they love to use those who never learned how to say no.

I physically can’t tell them I can’t work whenever I’m asked to pick up an extra shift, or when I’m sick or have to do anything else. It’s not even my main occupation and yet, here I am! Every day, I tell myself, I should just quit. It’s not my responsibility if they can’t treat their employees right. It’s not my responsibility they’re understaffed. I’m a student, I go to college, and I’m working hard on my degree - why should I prioritize my job over the thing that will determine the rest of my life?

And yet, every day, I go back. I go back and I work until my feet hurt and I’m sick and I’m tired and all I want to do is just cry. I go back because I, for the life of me, can’t say no. I can’t quit. I want to, but I can’t, and it’s killing me inside that I can’t talk about it the way I want to. In the end, I will always feel like everything is my fault and that I messed up, even though all I did was show up to work and turn into everyone’s punching bag.

My stupidity is what got me here. Usually, I would be home now, studying, but they asked me to pick up a late shift at the cafè again, and I worked for seven hours with only a fifteen-minute break in between - I look horrible, I smell of coffee and cake, and my body is hurting in all the wrong places. The weight is heavy in my stomach. I’m nauseous. I ate, but not enough. I’m hungry. I feel sick. Even the smallest sounds make me want to jump up the wall, kill someone, or perhaps even both. I’m angry, and I don’t even fucking know why because nothing happened. Other than a rather messy day with too much to do and too few people to do the work, the people weren’t even rude and I’ve had worse days - still, I feel everything at once and it’s ridiculous, really, because I’m an adult and I should know better than to let a rough day affect me. I don’t.

When he called and asked if I wanted to come over, I said yes. I didn’t want to, but saying no? Not something I would do, especially not to him. I walked into his apartment with a lump already in my stomach. The door creaked - God, I told him to oil it - and that was the first strike. I tossed my key into the bowl and it promptly fell back out. Second strike. My coat slipped from the hanger the second I hung it up. Third strike. I breathed, I had to, then went to the kitchen to make some dinner. Cooking usually works, usually, but the day must have gotten to me because the fourth strike - the fucking milk being expired - happened way too soon and it hit me, hard. After that, I was pretty much done for, and I knew, I just chose to ignore it.

Of course, I should have known I would screw up everything else, too.

“Hey, sweetheart,” his voice is kind and soft in my ear as he presses a kiss to my cheek. His stubble has never been something to bother me before until that very moment. I flinch away, not sure why. If he realized it - which I’m sure he did - he doesn’t show.

“Smells good,” he says.

I put the garlic into the pan. It smells too much like garlic and I hate it.

“What you making?”

“Pasta,” I tell him.

He kisses me again. “Mh-hm. How was your day?” the question is stupid, but it’s normal and he always asks. He gets himself a beer - only himself - removes the cap with his mouth and then leans against the counter.

He shouldn’t infuriate me. He shouldn’t make me angry just by standing there and asking me questions couples ask themselves, but inevitably, he does. And I hate myself all the more for the way my voice sounds when I answer him.

“Fine,” I say.

“Fine?” he asks. “How was work?” I feel like he’s getting suspicious. “You only had two lectures today, right? English lit and what was the other one?”

“Linguistics.”

“Ah, yes. Your least favorite.”

Perhaps that’s why I’m angry.

“You know,” he says and the tangent he goes on after revolves around him and only him, and while I don’t like talking about myself, that doesn’t mean he has to unload all of his stress on me - I don’t know why I think that way and it’s scaring me because I don’t actually feel that way, but at that moment I do and it’s all very confusing.

I just want to lock myself in his bedroom and cry. He looks so good with the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up. He’s wearing his glasses, still, but his tie is loosened and he smiles because he knows I love that smile. I should love it. I should love the way his muscles tense underneath his shirt or the way his dress pants hang impossibly low on his hips, but for the first time, I don’t. I don’t love anything, I just feel anger, which makes me hate everything, but mostly myself.

I must have zoned out. Suddenly, he’s calling my name and he’s calling me sweetheart and he’s poking me with his hands - no, he’s stroking my hips, hugging me from behind, and it’s all too much. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I lie. He knows I’m lying. He can hear it in my heartbeat. He can feel it in the way I move away from him to rinse the now-empty pan in the sink.

How is the food already finished?

“You didn’t listen to a word I just said,” he dares to sound offended.

“No, I did.”

“Really, what did I say?”

“You and Foggy had a case, didn’t go well, bla bla bla. Same as every day.”

He sets the bottle down. “Alright, sweetheart, what’s wrong? I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Oh, so just because I don’t care about hearing the same story repeat itself every day and you whining about it means there’s something wrong with me?”

He’s taken aback. Quite frankly, I’ve never snapped at him before, not like this, not out of nowhere, and we’ve been dating for over a year. With his super senses, there is little that eludes the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, especially when it comes to his girlfriend. I hate that it’s like this. I hate not having any privacy, even when I try to. But I don’t want to be alone, I don’t want privacy. Or, I think. I don’t even know what I want. I know I want to be around him, but at the same time, it hurts because the anger is too damn hot to swallow, and his concern doesn’t make it any better. It should be, but it’s not. I’m a lost cause.

“I was just telling you about my day,” he says. I would yell back at myself if I were him, but he knows me. He knows yelling doesn’t help. He knows I’d cry, but maybe that’s what I want. Maybe I want him to yell just so I have a valid reason to cry, to be angry.

I want him to hate me the way I hate myself.

That’s why I can’t help it anymore. “Maybe I don’t want to hear about your day.”

“What?”

“The world doesn’t revolve around you, Matthew!”

He’s confused. I don’t blame him. The second the words left my mouth, I regret them. They make me sound like the most selfish person on the whole planet. I can’t take them back though. If I did, he’d know something is wrong and then he’d worry, he’d pity me and no, I don’t want that. I want to rile him up. I’m not sure why, but it makes me so angry that he’s so calm and I’m… well, I’m me, but I’m also not me. I’m a stranger in my own body.

I put the pasta in a bowl. It stinks of alcohol and tomatoes and garlic, too much of it. I wonder how anyone could eat that.

“Here,” I shove it into his hand, “You’ve been served. I’m gonna take a shower.”

I’m a bad person. I’m pretty sure I am. Who yells at their boyfriend because they can’t deal with their own problems? Who makes the person they love more than life itself feel like shit on purpose for no reason whatsoever? A sane person wouldn’t. We have never been a normal couple, Matthew and I, but we’re trying. Turns out, I suck much more than I thought I would.

It’s not the age gap, I’m sure of it. I’m in my last year as an English Major and he’s a defense attorney. Somehow, we make it work. He loves me, I know he does. He’s afraid of rejection - he thinks everyone he loves will leave him, which is why it took us a while to find together. I should have known my words were going to hurt him unimaginably. He thinks he did something wrong, but it’s not him. It’s never him. He’s damaged, but he’s nothing if not perfect to me, most of the time.

I’m heavily crying at this point, trying to conceal my sobs, but it’s not working. The water is loud, not loud enough to fool Matt’s hearing, but even if he were to hear it, he knows better than to provoke me any further. He doesn’t know what’s going on and neither do I, so it’s just the two of us silently waiting for the other to come around. He shouldn’t have to feel that way. And so I cry more because God, I do not deserve that man. I don’t deserve his kindness or his love. I don’t. I really, really don’t.

And once I’m out of the bathroom, I remember why I don’t deserve him.

The table is set for two. Candles substitute for the harsh ceiling light. He knows it gives me headaches sometimes. He put a bowl out for me and a glass of wine. White wine. The sweet kind. The kind he hates but keeps around in case I ever need a glass. He’s drinking red wine. It’s cheap, but it looks expensive and he likes to feel special from time to time.

I hug my arms around my body. He has his back turned to me, fixing a salad in the kitchen - I must have forgotten it. The way he moves is almost angelic. He moves as if nothing happened, as if I didn’t just treat him like a bitch. He’s singing my favorite song or humming it, anyway. The room smells of him and me and the food I loathed before, but watching him do all of this for me, even now, is sucking the air out of my lungs and suddenly, I don’t mind the thought of eating with him.

I only want one thing. I don’t want to ask for it and he’s not going to do anything unless I talk. We agreed on that from the beginning, no matter what kind of intimacy it involves. Without consent or a proper conversation, nothing will happen. And I curse myself for not being able to speak without the tears blocking my view again.

“There’s a sweater on the couch,” he states. He knows I’m cold. “And some fuzzy socks, if you want.”

The clothes smell like him.

“I put some more salt in the pasta. I think you forgot to salt the water, so I took it upon myself. I hope you don’t mind. Also, I tried to make your favorite salad dressing, but I’m not sure if I managed to get it right this time.”

He smiles and then his glasses are gone and he has an apron on and he looks like he loves me, really loves me, and that’s it. I pull my legs up to my chest, falling deep into the couch and I cry. All the pain just comes exploding out of me like an active volcano.

The leather dents next to me. “Comfort or solution?” he asks. It’s so casual, I get the feeling he’s not mad at me.

“I don’t know,” it sounds so broken.

His arm finds around my shoulder. “Is this okay?” I can only nod. Yes.

He moves me gently so I’m in his lap and he can rock me like a baby. It feels good to be loved like this, but it’s also suffocating. Still, I can’t help but fall deeper into his hold because this is, in fact, all I needed. Too stubborn to ask for it, I almost ruined something good. I know I did. He knows, too, but unlike me, he knows the difference between me being mad at him and being mad at the world. He knows I don’t mean what I say unless we’re fighting, and this isn’t it. We’re not fighting. I’m just angry and I want to cry, even while crying, and that makes me cry even more.

“You want to talk about it?” he asks once I can finally breathe again.

I blow my nose like a disgusting person and say, “Yes. No. I don’t know. Maybe.” And that about sums up all of my life.

“Is it school?”

I shake my head. If it’s not school, it can only be one other thing.

“Work?”

I nod.

“Anything happen or just a bad day?”

“Bad day.”

“That’s why you yelled at me? I didn’t do anything wrong?”

“No,” I say truthfully for the first time. “I’m just angry. I don’t know, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Maybe next time try telling me though. I was actually scared I did something until I heard you cry in the shower.”

I don’t know what’s wrong with me and I tell him that, to which he only chuckles.

“You know how many times I acted hostile towards you after a long day?” he says. “It happens. It’s okay.”

“I just… I’m so stressed all the time. I hate work and I hate people and I hate not getting paid enough or on time, but I can’t quit because you know, I’m me and they know that, so they take advantage of my inability to say no, and it sucks because I’m so tired of working more than I go to school, but I need the money, and so I can’t leave until I’ve found another job, but no one else wants me, so now I’m here, trying to see the good in this stupid job, but I don’t. I can’t. I hate it. I hate everything and everyone and I hate myself and I think I’ll get my period soon because this should not be upsetting me this much.”

His hand on my back manages to soothe me.

“Thank you,” I say, and I mean it.

He smiles down at me, all loopy, and his sightless eyes are focused somewhere on my forehead, which makes everything so much better.

“I love you.”

And yes, I love him too. I love him so fucking much, it hurts.

“I love you too, Matty.”

As soon as I say his name, he knows what I want. He knows I need to destress. He knows I can’t eat until I can forget.

“Is there something I can do?” he asks, but damn him, he already knows.

“Can you…” no, I can’t ask him for that.

“Yes?”

“Matt, can…” No. “You know what, never mind.”

“No, sweetheart. Tell me. What do you need?”

“I just…” my chest heaves a frustrated groan. “IneedyoutoeatmeoutuntilIcantremembermyname.”

He enjoys it. He gets off on it, my desperation. “Sorry, what?”

“You heard me.”

“I don’t think I did. Can you repeat that?”

“God.” My face is burning.

“I’m sorry, it’s just, this is the first time you actually asked me and I love hearing you ask for the things you want. It’s sexy.”

Somehow, that’s even worse. My thighs clench like I’m some pathetic little schoolgirl with a crush on her teacher.

“You know, maybe you can ask for a raise tomorrow, or quit altogether,” he says. “But for that to work, you have to tell me what you want right now.”

“I asked you to eat me out until I can’t remember my fucking name!”

“Thank you. Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

If there is one thing Matt Murdock is incredibly skilled with, it’s his mouth. And I don’t just mean the words that come out. Essentially, it’s all in his tongue. He’s managed to render me speechless on more than one occasion, and he knows. He knows I love when he touches me, but there are times when it has to be about me, and only me, and he’d gladly suffocate between my thighs. He’s told me that time and time again.

He keeps telling me to ask him if I want something. I never do. I hate asking for it because it’s embarrassing. It’s good that he knows what he’s doing, that bastard because if he didn’t, I wouldn’t be cumming and I wouldn’t tell him. Somehow he always gets the job done, no matter how stressed I am.

That’s why I need it so badly. I need him to take care of me, no matter how long it takes. I know it might take a while because I’m tense and he knows too. He reads my body like an open book. That’s how he knows I’m horny before I even do.

He doesn’t move for another minute. He just stares at me. “You want me to take care of you?” he asks.

“Please,” I beg.

“Guess I’ll have dessert before dinner today then.”

He lifts my head and then he’s suddenly on top of me. He’s sliding me up the couch so he can fit in between my legs. I’m dressed in shorts, a t-shirt, and his sweater and for a second I wonder if it’s even worth it. I’m ovulating, I’m bloated. I feel like shit. My hormones are all messed up. I can feel the weight of my boobs tear on my back and I’m pretty sure the hairs on my legs prickle his cheek as he kisses them. It’s making me want to take back everything I asked of him.

My confidence has taken a low blow this past week.

Though Matt doesn’t care, he never does. He digs his nose between my thighs and takes the longest whiff I’ve seen him take in a while. To be fair, the last time we saw each other, he was busy with work. We didn’t have time for intimacy, which hardly ever happens. He moans.

Smug bastard.

“You’re so beautiful,” he tells me. It melts my heart. The compliment means so much more knowing he can’t physically see me. To him, I’m beautiful. He couldn’t care less about what I looked like. Although sometimes I wonder what picture he has made up of me in his mind.

His lips are on mine fast. I can’t help but sigh. They’re so soft. He doesn’t rush, he just kisses me and then kisses me some more. I tangle my hands in his hair. I’m sure, this is what heaven must be like.

“Let’s take this off.” His sweater joins my shorts on the floor. “May I?” He hooks his fingers underneath the waistband of my panties. “Or do you want me to keep them on?”

I have no doubt he could do it with five layers in between and still make me cum.

“Off,” I say. I want this. I have to remind myself that my insecurities mean nothing – he loves me. He wants to do this for me. He wants to do this because he likes it, or else he would say it.

Matt is vocal, but I’m not. If he doesn’t want to do something, he’ll say. Can’t say the same about me, which is why he asks repeatedly, even after I already told him it’s okay. He wants to make sure I’m on board, that I don’t feel pressured and can pull out any time I want, but I don’t, because the second the cold air hits my bare cunt, all I want is him.

I can feel his eyes searching for me. “Hey,” he says my name. “We’re not playing this time, okay? You can cum when you need to and how many times you want to. You just have to lay back and relax. I’ll take care of you.”

He intertwines our fingers on either side of my spread thighs before he dives into me. It’s slow and steady. He doesn’t care about fucking me with his tongue like he usually does. He licks and bites, but mostly, his tongue and lips stay around my clit and they suck. They suck so good, I see stars behind my eyes. His touch sends shocks down my spine. My sensitive walls clench around thin air, but his head is so far between my thighs, I still manage to feel full.

But no matter how hard I try, I can’t focus. It feels so good, way too good, and on any other day, I would’ve come by now. His beard burns into the inside of my thigh as I rock against him. I try to, but it’s exhausting. I can feel the coil in my lower belly clear as day, and yet it’s too far out of reach. I need it, I crave it.

I can hear myself saying, “This could take a while.” And he laughs because he finds it funny. It’s not funny though, it’s serious. I hate the fact that he makes me feel so good and I can’t find it in myself to enjoy.

“Close your eyes,” his breath fans hot against my folds. “And just stop thinking.”

He makes it his mission to ruin me. I close my eyes and as soon as I do, he’s on me. It’s not just his mouth. One of our joined hands reaches up to touch my breast – he twists my nipple through the shirt until it’s hard and has his attention. The other reaches behind me and lifts my hips. The next thing I know, he has me propped up on a pillow. The muscles in my lower back relax. I sigh. It’s so good.

He’s given up on slow and steady. His head moves in circles as he abuses – I don’t have another word for it – my clit and eats the rest of me like a man starved. I realize I need it fast and I need it hard. He knows it before I do. His tongue expertly parts my wet folds, a mix of arousal and spit trickling down my thighs, but I could care less. He’s inside of me and then his thumb is there and it’s rubbing and rubbing and rubbing and I’m so fucking close, the knot in my stomach feels like it weighs a hundred pounds, and it’s applying sweet, sweet pressure on cunt.

“Fuck!” I throw my head back into the leather. My back arches impossibly high, and his head squished tightly between my thighs. I need him closer. His hair is so soft, it makes me want to cry, and I do. I cry, but not in a sad way. I cry out because yes, God yes! and then I’m cumming, suddenly and without warning, hard, all over his face, and it doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop.

The growl is animalistic. It vibrates perfectly through my pussy and I can’t help it – it barely takes two minutes until his lips start hurting so good as they keep sucking my clit, a series of ‘one more’ leaves his lips in a plea, and I’m rocking against him hard. I’m begging him, “Matt,” but I’m not sure what for.

“C’mon,” he says, “you can give me one more.”

He’s right. God, I hate when he’s right. My toes curl and I push his face so deep into me, I’m convinced he’s running out of air, but that’s what makes him moan and it sends me over the edge.

I’m pretty sure I passed out. The pleasure is so intense, my stomach feels like it’s being torn apart and then put back together. The world is dark and for the first time today, quiet.

Something nudges my cheek softly. It’s his hand. Matt kisses me and I can taste myself on his lips. “Hey,” he coaxes me back into lucidity. “There you are. Are you okay?”

I nod.

“You need anything?”

It’s a reflex, reaching for him. He gasps slightly when my hand touches between his thighs, expecting to find a visible bulge, but there is none. I’m not sure if it’s my mind playing tricks on me, but there is a visible wet spot where his dick is supposed to be.

“Did you-“ I finally open my eyes. He looks so drunk in the candlelight. I realize then that he is drunk on me.

He buries his head in my neck. “You’re not the only one who’s been worked up all week,” he says.

“You just- oh, my God.” I never thought it possible that it could be enough for him. “Thank you.”

“No, thank you. You’re always so good to me. Good girl. But I think-“ his finger steals my breath as it circles my entrance and promptly slips it inside of me. “You can cum for me again.”

I arch into him. My chest brushes against his. Our shirts suddenly feel like too much clothing and I’m desperate, so I tear at the buttons until they come apart. He has his arm back underneath me, holding me flush against him as if he’s afraid I might slip away.

A wanton moan escapes me. “That’s it,” and his praise is even better. “Think you can take another one?”

He adds a second finger. It burns but only because even after a year, I’m still struggling to take any part of him. His fingers are thick and they’re rough and they’re scratching my inside walls just right. They massage the flesh. He’s pumping his fingers in and out and in and out, and he adds his thumb back on my clit because he knows I won’t be able to cum without it.

All of the stress falls off my shoulders. I feel him everywhere, his kisses, his touch, his hard nipples against mine. He’s hard again, poking against my thigh. I reach for him and he whines, he whines into my mouth. I’m not sure which one of us will come first. I suppose it’s me, it’s always me. He makes sure it will be me.

He hits as deep as he possibly could. His fingers curl inside of me and then, “There it is!” Is so victorious, it makes my eyes roll back. He keeps hitting that particular spot over and over again. My hand clutches his shoulder. I want to scream, but all that comes out is a series of whined and pathetic moans. I can’t help it, my muscles contract around him.

“Damn, you’re gonna break my fingers,” he says. His chuckle is breathless. “You close?”

I hum.

“Do me a favor,” and I expect him to tell me anything but what he requests, “Don’t cum.”

It’s rude. It’s cruel and it’s vile and I want to murder him because just as he says it, the coil tightens impossibly tight and I need to let go. It’s painful to hold it in, especially now. But I do as he tells me nonetheless. I want to please him.

“Matt,” I moan. He’s so unfair and he knows it.

He smirks. “Just hold on a little longer.”

“I can’t!”

“Yes, you can. I know you can.”

“St- oh, fuck!” He hits my sweet spot with twice the intensity. I almost cum, but only almost. I keep it together, no matter how much it hurts, and it’s making tears prick at my eyes. “Please, just let me cum,” I hate begging him. “Please, Matty.”

“Shhh. We’re almost there.”

His thumb speeds up. I can see heaven. God is reaching his hand out for me. My stomach is in a tight knot, so tight, the silk might rip any second. The pressure is unreal. My muscles have been trained by him, I admit, but nothing can prepare you for this. Nothing can prepare you for the times when Matt has his mind set on something and he’s going to take it. He’s going to take you.

I can’t think. It’s too much. I know I’m going to disappoint him. The animal inside of me is beyond satisfied and she wants out. She wants to let go. She loves the feeling of his fingers buried to the hilt inside of her. She loves him, and loving him tends to turn into sweet, sweet torture.

I moan his name again. His cock twitches underneath his dress pants, hot against my fingertips.

“Almost,” he promises. “I just want to try something.”

What could he possibly want to-

“Cum.”

I’m flying. My back lifts off the couch and if it wasn’t for him, I would be dead by now. My body is shaking. It’s earth-shattering and it’s wet and it’s everywhere. I can feel the orgasm tearing me apart from the inside, blood rushing in my ears. My senses go black. I can’t see, feel or breathe. Everything is too much. It’s burning, it’s heavy, but it’s amazing.

His fingers don’t stop until he has milked the last drop of me until even the last ounce of stress has left my body and I’m limp. I’m a corpse. I’m barely breathing, a wet sack of potatoes in his arms.

God, the look on his face. He’s cumming too. The wet patch on his pants has doubled. It’s not from me, although I’m suddenly very aware of the fact of what he just made me do.

“Oh.”

“Fuck,” he growls. “That was amazing.”

I never expected to have it in myself. “Oh, Jesus.” My words are highly blasphemous but I don’t care. I’m not even sure how to feel. The blush creeps up my cheeks and I close my legs a little. Everything is so wet. It’s all me and some of him, but mostly me. Just spurts of cum all over his hand and his couch.

He clicks his tongue, shoving my thighs apart. “Don’t go shy on me now,” he says.

“No, it’s embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing? Sweetheart, I’ve never felt more proud of myself.”

“I just- your couch. Oh, God.”

“I’m pretty sure the couch will survive it. Leather is easier to clean. How do you feel?”

I sigh, snuggling against his chest. “Better,” I have to admit. “Much, much better.”

“Good.” He kisses my neck. “Can I have my fingers back now?”

“No.” I like the feeling of him inside of me, even if it’s just his fingers. It makes me feel complete, almost.

“Okay.”

“Just gonna rest my eyes now.”

“You do that, sweetie. I’ll be here.”

And he is. He always is. I wake up, and he’s there, and he always will be because he promised me this is forever. Us. Me and him. And I realize then that I’ve never been more in love with another person than I am in love with Matt Murdock.

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock imagines #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x afab!reader #matt murdock x you #daredevil smut #smut #fluff #matt murdock angst #hurt/comfort #stress relief #I hate customer service with a passion #I also hate retail #I hate work in general #Matt Murdock rail me challenge

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hells-wasabii · 4 months

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Headcanons for Charlie, Lucifer, Lute, and Alastor with a m!reader who’s the Demi-god son of Zeus?

I would imagine that deities from other myths and cultures do exist in hazbin hotel/helluva boss but don’t really have much power like they did in ancient times, likely mainly due to when christianity started to grow larger pagans ended up being persecuted and killed if they did convert. And it would effect them to the point where either deities chose to live among mortals (like how deities do in American Gods), simply join Heaven and became powerful angels, or tried to fight heaven only to get killed and end up in hell and possibly be more powerful than overlords.

Y/n doesn’t really have a good father-son bond with Zeus, given how much of a terrible father and wife he is in the greek myths.

And with y/n being a son of zeus he also inherited some of his abilities (lightning, strength, etc.)

A/N: I really hope this one is formatted properly, I had to post this one from mobile. But I didn’t write as many headcanons as I normally would due to the number of characters in the ask. From this point on my max character amount will be 3 per ask. But in any case, I hope you enjoy what I got!

Characters: Lute, Lucifer, Charlie, Alastor

Type: Headcanons (x son of Zeus!reader, General)

Lute

When Lute first met you, she immediately saw an opportunity. She practically begged you to join the exorcists! She did admittedly get scolded by Adam for letting the exterminations and exorcists slip, but after that she went about trying to recruit you to their cause properly.

The greek gods wandered freely and let their powers go to waste, but you, you could do something with your powers! Sure, they may not be nearly as strong as your father’s but you’re powerful nonetheless. Which on top of that, there weren’t all that many demigods in heaven anyway, which made you all the more

So she goes out of her way to try to recruit you. She had met your father in passing, sure, but she didn’t particularly care for or about him. He was complicit, doing nothing when it came to the sinners, so frankly he was none of her concern.You on the otherhand were a well of untapped potential!

She would personally make you her project. Your uniform would be altered, an indication for other exorcists not to get to close on the battle field, after all electricity is hard to control especially surrounded by metal objects such as armor pieces or weapons.

Lucifer

Lucifer was initially confused to see you in hell. The other pantheons had their own afterlives, you knew that, right? You were a demigod, you were practically guaranteed a spot in elysium, especially with one of the old Olympians as a parent. Oh, you didn’t want anything to do with that sort of stuff? That’s fair he supposed.

When he finds out about your lack of a relationship with your dad, he initially would want to help fix it. He doesn’t have the best relationship with Charlie, something that the king of hell deeply regrets. He knows how much it can hurt.

That is until he finds out your dad is Zeus. Then he fully understands. See, he never really liked Zeus all that much, between how he he had the habit of acting childish and how he constantly cheated on his literal wife, (which that was a whole different can of worms that Lucifer was not about to open)

Charlie

Being the princess of hell, she wouldn’t exactly have any room to talk when it came to your lineage. But you were the son of Zeus, that basically made you royalty, right? Regardless, she’d still refer to you as such, even if your human blood prevented you from being heir to a now nonexistent throne.

Much like her father, your strained relationship with your own dad tugged at charlie’s heartstrings. She will actively want to help you reconnect with him.

She might initially be a little pushy about it, considering her views on forgiveness and redemption, but she would want you to try to better your relationship with your dad. She herself doesn’t have the best one with her own, but they had been working on improving it. She wants that opportunity for you too.

If that’s something you would want at least. As much as Charlie would love for you to have a better father-son relationship, if that’s something you’re uninterested in she’ll respect your decisions and help better set boundaries with the God, because lets face it. Zeus wouldn’t exactly heed any you might set on your own.

Alastor

Well, i think we all know how he would react. You were powerful, more powerful than a normal soul and he knew it. He could feel it. Sometimes, when you got too excited or let your emotions get the better of you he could feel the charge of electricity

He, in terms of sinners, is likely to be the most open to the idea of other pantheons existing, he dabbled in the dark arts after all.

He knew early on that he could use you to his advantage, and if he could do so by simply saying something along the lines of your father wouldn’t approve, that’s even better. However, if you were harder to get into a deal or to form some sort of alliance, then that meant you would need to be dealt with or steered clear from.

After all, radios and an abundance of electricity don’t exactly mix well.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin headcanons #hazbin imagine #alastor x reader #lucifer x reader #lute x reader #charlie x reader #charlie morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #alastor headcanons #hazbin lute

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chaoticace2005 · 3 months

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Why Sir Pentious got redeemed:

1. He was killed so his soul got re-evaluated (if so what happens to all other Sinners who die?)

2. He got redeemed a millisecond before Adam killed him, the intent of sacrificing himself being enough to get into heaven

3. He was destined to be redeemed when he put his pride away and confessed to Cherri

4. Being in Heaven or Hell is based on whether or not you believe you’re a good person. At that moment his opinion of himself shifted enough to qualify for Heaven.

5. He racked up enough good points to be redeemed, as did Angel, the only reason he’s there and Angel isn’t is because Valentino owns Angel’s soul.

6. Susan owned Sir Pentious’ soul, keeping him tied to Hell. She died at that very moment though, releasing him.

7. Susan is a bad bitch and can’t die. But she saw how stupid he was about to be and was like “I give up”, releasing him.

8. The universe knew that Adam was going to die and there always has to be one Alex Brightman in Heaven. They couldn’t take Fizzarolli because they don’t want to deal with Asmodeus, so they defied their own rules and took Sir Pentious.

9. He didn’t get redeemed. His design was just re-used and this is a totally different Winner, the story just ended like this to give us hope

10. He didn’t get redeemed, this is Charlie’s hope of what did happen because she can’t accept his death

11. All of Hazbin is a story being told by Frank, and he added his boss going to Heaven because that’s what he believes happened (either a conspiracy theory or that’s what the Hazbin crew told him.)

12. Using a war machine to kill people was the last sin he needed to repent for, the fact he was redeemed before Adam’s blast is just luck.

13. Adam’s blast beamed Sir Pentious up to Heaven

14. Adam’s blast is actually a de-Sinner, usually it kills people but because Sir Pentious didn’t have a lot of Sin-juice he was reborn

15. He chose that moment to convert to a born again Christian. He was born again.

16. He sneezed and an angel blessed him

17. This was another “fuck you” from the universe: he kissed the girl he liked and made a family only for it all to be taken away

18. It’s a Good Place situation where he thinks he’s in Heaven but it’s really not and this is just extra torture.

19. He’s in purgatory and this is what he’s dreaming.

20. It’s a test by the higher ups in Heaven “OH you think heaven is good for Sinners? Wrong!” Then they chose a guy who was starting to find happiness in Hell to prove their point that Sinners can’t find joy in Heaven

21. His death was so anticlimactic the universe felt like it had to give him a second chance.

22. Vox is a heavenly official in disguise (the TV is just a mask.) And told him back in episode 2 to kill himself, Sir Pentious sacrificing himself fulfilled that wish, so the universe redeemed him for fulfilling Vox’s challenge

23. Lilith ex-machina came in last minute like a girl boss and saved his ass. Her powers transcend time.

24. That’s Sir Pentious’ clone, which Pentious had programmed to be released the second he died (there may be tons of Alex Brightmans in the world, but there can only be one Sir Pentious.)

25. Charlie learns how to redeem Sinners in the future. She also learns to time travel, so she grabs Sir Pentious at that last second before he died, helps him get redeemed and then chucks him back into the timeline because screw the consequences.

26. Alex Brightman got amnesia and said “H-huh?! Where-where am I?!” during recording. Everyone though he just ad-libbed a line and tried to make it fit in.

27. The Eggs are secretly gods. They blessed and saved Pentious before Adam could kill them.

28. Emily saw what he was about to do and pulled a lever. It was the right lever.

29. Last minute someone realized the play on words with Pentious’ name (Sir Repentious) and added this scene in

30. Alex Brightman was originally not going to return to the show, so Pentious and Adam died. Later things changed and he could return, but most filming had already been done so they took him aside and filmed that final scene separately and added it in.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel memes #sir pentious #sir repentious #stupid hazbin hotel lists #hazbin hotel crack #alex brightman #adam hazbin hotel #cherrisnake

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yigashimei · 4 months

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Alright here is another one, sorry for late posting but here it is Zoya x fem! reader

Zoya

It was supposed to be a one night stand only, but things took a different turn, maybe for the good or not you are just about to find out

Zoya who was only looking for someone to entertain her things turned out to be much more different that what she had anticipated

Meeting you was something people may call 'right person, wrong time' it could potentially change your life but you did not back down

So what happens when you meet your one night stand again in the right time and place

Warnings⚠️: A bit of Angst

It could be destiny trying to kill you or worst you thought it may be someone who just came here looking for fun but turned out to be someone very dangerous

But seeing her again felt amazing even if she was part of a dangerous group, your first instinct was to run and hide but seeing her with them you just went and froze in place

"Where is your boss?" the guy big and tall standing beside her said, his voice holds authority "Our boss wants to talk to him, get him here quick" he continued

"P-please wait a moment, I shall call t-the boss and inform him of y-your arrival and request" the man on the front desk said, you learned his name to be Gin when he approached you months ago

" For the time being, p-please make yourself at home, relax a-and just tell Jane here of what you want to eat and d-drink" his timid voice was even showing his fear in which, Zoya their boss gave him a side glance

Jane went and replaced Gin at the front desk while he went and told his boss of what happened and who has come "My name is Jane and this way to one of the holding room where you can wait for our boss, please follow me" she said while leading them to the room

They were about to pass you so with quick reflexes you turned to the door behind you and went inside before they could see you (more like before she could see you)

Before passing the door that separates you from the gang Zoya stops, looking at the door feeling a bit of hope that what she saw was you

Turns out she saw a glimpse of you before you run and hide, she wasn't sure it was you but she will find out

Continuing their walk Jane calls out to someone to get food and drinks while they wait "The boss will be a bit late due to a meeting he is having, due to this you are free to have fun with some of our clients best pick, I shall send them in and you may pick who you wish to have"

After saying those words, a line of beautiful and jaw dropping women walk in and start to look at the people inside, the men of the group who were either not married or have a girlfriend chose the women they wish to have for the night

But the leader of the group stood up and walked towards the person who led them here "I want someone else, someone who is not here, her name is Y/N" the girls eyes went wide, seeing that this person knows their best worker yet, but she knows that the girl is currently finishing up with someone else and cannot come here

"I am sorry for she is currently unavailable due to someone already booking up an appointment with her, she should be finished soon so if you wish I can go get her once her job is done" Jane explained after seeing the frown on the woman's face

"Good, get her here quickly, I want to talk with her" she said before returning to her seat and with a quick breath Jane excused herself to get you

The truth was you weren't in an appointment at the moment you just said that to her in hopes that if Zoya ever asked Jane could say that you were busy and would not be free in the next few hours, but due to Jane's fear of the woman she had no choice but to fetch you and drag you to the feared woman

"Y/N! Open up! I need you now!" Jane shouted while banging outside of a room where you were she presumed you would be and to her surprise you were there behind the door

"What is it Jane? Didn't I tell you I am busy? Or did you just not hear me?" you asked while pulling on the cloth that's barely covering your bare shoulder

"That woman downstairs is looking for you, the leader of the gang that came here" she said while putting her hands on her hips looking at the girl in front of her "Then tell her I am busy Jane, I thought you already knew that?" Jane frustrated took hold of your wrist and started to pull you towards the end of the hallway where the stairs are

"I did tell her, but she insisted that she needs to see you, so I am sorry if you don't like it,but our job is to listen to the boss and the boss said to treat them good especially their boss the woman who was looking for you" Jane said before stopping infront of the same door where Zoya and her gang was being entertained

"Look, I don't know what your problem is, but we need to listen or else we might end up like Haru and Rei last month for not listening" Jane took hold of your shoulders and started to fix the cloth that was covering you as best as she could to keep the cold air of the night away from your shivering form

"I will be there so don't worry ok? I won't leave you alone, so go inside and know what she wants then you can go back and relax for the rest of the night" she encouraged you before tugging your hand to go inside with her

"Let's go?" she asked turning around to look at you once more "Let's go" you replied more confident than before

Jane signals you to stay just beside the bar and will call you once she has told Zoya of your arrival, doing as you were told you then proceed to talk with someone you know who is working by the bar

"I knew I would find you here" a voice deep and rough sounded just beside your ear, turning around you are met with the person who you slept with a month before this happens "What's with the look dear? Did you not miss me one bit?" she asked looking as if you put a knife on her heart

"I am extremely hurt by your actions of avoiding me, I thought you would have been happy to see me again" her smile was beautiful, deadly but still beautiful to your eyes

"Come sit with me, I have something to tell you, and I know for a fact that you would like it as much as I would too" pulling you up from the stool she guided you toward where her gang was and made them move so that you could take a seat besides her

Her hand moved from your shoulders to your waist holding you in place beside her, it wasn't tight to hurt but still tight that you couldn't leave her side if you wanted to

"I did as I promised, I will be getting you out of here in no time, so just sit and make yourself look pretty for me while we wait for that so called boss of yours and I can take you back with me" her voice echoed through your ear causing you to shiver a little making her smirk

"What? Miss my voice that much?" Zoya asked her smirk turning to a grin "Don't worry bunny, your in safe hands" then she laughed while you turned beet red from her teasing

A few minutes later Gin returned with the man you called boss, you despised him to the core, he was the reason you were here afterall

"What are a bunch of people like you doing here?!" Your boss shouted "And with my best employee?! Get them out now!" Gin was shivering with the glare that Zoya sent their way while the boss was not paying attention and just kept shouting orders

"We made a deal three weeks ago that I pay you 10million dis coins and then I can get her out of here" your eyes widen that was too much and you know for a fact that this man will not let you go after all you are his top selling, letting you go will be bad for his business

"No way in hell! That bitch is my top selling, take her and my business falls, I don't care about you but I am not giving her to you!" he shouted, you wanted to end this get out of here and just be free, but no, your chained here to this damned place till you die

"Our signed papers said otherwise" he froze, he had forgotten he signed the deal cause he thought she wouldn't be able to do it "I got the money and the paperwork here, so you either cooperate with us properly or I can make you be a remaining tale to this place for all eternity" her voice grew dark along with her eyes

Boss afraid stepped down and left with the money, you were free now, no more of those routine that you have to do, tears stained your cheek taking Zoya by surprise

"Hey, why are you crying?" her voice now smooth and soft to your ears "Don't cry now, I made a promise to get you out of here no matter what, and I am doing that now" her hands wiped the tears flowing from your eyes

"You're staying with me and my gang, so stop crying already, you're free now no one can harm you ever again, not on my watch" she said helping you stand up to get out of the place "C'mon, my girl needs to smile cause that's what I need to brighten up my day" her words made you beet red and your heard pounding loud

"What are you talking about? I am not your girl" she merely laughed and kissed your cheek with a grin "That's not what you said to me a month ago" she retorted back making you smile some more

"Let's go and I promise you no one will lay a hand on you ever again, I swear on my name" her smile was contagious that it made you smile too "I will take good care of you don't worry, you are in safe hands"

Maybe meeting her can be considered as 'right person, right time' afterall she saved you from that hell hole

Well whatever happens now is just a fate guiding your way, and you are extremely grateful that fate guided you to your lover

#Mei Stories #PTN #Path To Nowhere #Zoya #Reader #Zoya x Reader

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wildestdreamsblog · 9 months

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Hiraeth IV

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Reader

Summary: You had always been his, and no one could take you away from him. Idol!AU

Warnings: Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Slight age gap, Murder intention, Mention of death, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: back from the grave :>

Masterlist, Hiraeth III

Seven years ago, United States of America

“You saw him last night,” your therapist repeated gently when you paused to breathe. Your eyes watered, remembering the dream- no, the nightmare you had last night. It had been almost two years since you last saw any of them, since you last saw any remnants of your past.

It had been two years, yet one dream of him managed to shatter your progress. One dream of his sorrowful eyes managed to break you. And you hated it. You hated him. You hated yourself for not being stronger.

He was just a figment of your imagination, memories manifesting themselves through your subconscious- and sadly, that was enough to make you crumble.

You reminded yourself that Seokjin was just that- someone from your past.

“And how did that make you feel?”

You looked up at her with tears in your eyes, “Terrified,” you whispered shakily, wrapping your hands tighter around yourself. “He terrifies me.”

She regarded you over her eyeglasses for a moment, her hands posed to write on her list of all the things that were wrong about you. “You still think he killed your father,” she said with a matter-of-fact tone.

And you answered merely with anger in your eyes.

You ran.

Of course you ran again. You weren’t strong enough to stay, and even if you were, there was no place in your heart for him. Not when it still hurt looking at him. Not when every time you look into his eyes, you were brought back to that day when he died. Not when you were reminded of that day, not when your desperation and misery were resurfacing every time he was near.

Not when a part of you blamed him for the tragedy of the only family you had.

This was exactly why you left.

This was why you ran so far that you left the only home you knew, and why you left him standing there alone with his head bowed down.

“The faster you get the owner to sign, the faster you can return here,” your boss replied from over the video chat, excitement apparent in his voice once you finished your presentation. You included other restaurants that you visited with Jungkook, even going as far as underselling Seokjin’s business. You even didn’t mention that he was the owner, respecting his privacy.

And yet, your boss who wasn’t even paying you enough to face your nightmare, chose his restaurant. It was just your fucking luck, you thought.

“Boss, I really think that the first option is better-“

He squinted his eyes at you as though he was looking right through your bullshits. You knew his restaurants was the best among the choices. Objectively speaking, choosing him would benefit your company the most. Even without his named connected to the store, it was already performing better than the others. You wondered that what height of success it would reached once people knew that the Kim Seokjin owned it? You knew that. Yet, you were only human and as such, you couldn’t help but be affected by your emotions, to be subjective when success was merely one signature away.

“The faster you can return here, the sooner you’ll get your promotion which is already being processed. The only thing missing is my signature. And I did promise you I will sign, the promotion is yours- as soon as you get the owner to sign.”

This was a draining meeting and an even more exhausting day. You didn’t think you slept at all last night, and you left his house early morning like a common thief, moving so quietly and taking the things you considered essential with you. You just really wanted to breathe, to be think without his intoxicating presence clouding your mind.

“I know you can do this. I trust no one but you.”

Of course you knew you could. The question lied whether you would survive this, whether you would survived him.

Those were his parting words before he ended the call. Had this been anyone else, literally anyone else, you would have been on top of this. You were a professional and damn good with your job. This shouldn’t be any different…right?

In fact, this should have been easier because you knew him. You knew Kim Seokjin. Except that you couldn’t be any more wrong. You didn’t know the other half of him, the sinister, selfish and dark side of him.

The coffee shop was now swarming with people as the day approached midmorning. Ever since you left his house, you were here quietly working, doing anything to take your mind off that kiss…off of him. Yet, every time you closed your eyes, your mind went to him. You could still feel his lips on yours, could still feel the warmth of his hands as he cradled you so close to him, could still feel how truly powerless you were when it came to him. If you were going to be completely and utterly honest, you could still feel how hard your heart was beating that moment. He was a force to be reckoned with. He was then, and still was, bigger than life. It was truly unfair how he grew old to be even more perfect and dashing than he was when you were younger. And what you hated the most was how he could still fucking affect you as though you were still that young girl who followed him around. And look what he reduced you to, a coward who ran when he was at his weakest.

You sighed before turning to look at the window to your right, only to be met with who seemed to be the lead rapper and main dancer of the group, Jung Hoseok. He was wearing a disguised, only his eyes could be seen and he was apparently looking at you with urgency in his eyes. His body was huffing in exhaustion as though he had been running around.

He did not waste anymore time as he entered the coffee shop and went to you, his hand immediately encircling your wrist as though to ensure that you could no longer run.

“You have to come with me.”

“What? Why?” Your brows furrowed at the seriousness on his face. You were aware that he was the sunshine of the group, that he was the light of the group. You would be living under a rock if you didn’t know of him. This was the reason why it confused you why he suddenly seemed…angry. Or why he looked to be moving with utmost urgency.

You could feel people looking at you with curiosity, and it wouldn’t be long before someone recognized him. He knew it. And you knew it. Hoseok was taking advantage of the fact that he bet you wouldn’t want to make a scene, and thus he was able to take you in his car without much of a fight.

He maneuvered the car expertly, his eyes focused on road. He was the perfect picture of calmed and composed if not for the way he gripped the steering wheel. Amongst all the members, he was probably the least you had interaction with which was precisely why how he was acting confused the hell out of you. He was acting as though you had personally offended him, as though what you did was close to becoming unforgivable.

Which brought you once again to this question: what did you do to him?

“What is this all about?” You asked him in a barely restrained contempt. You didn’t bode well with being dragged out of an establishment by a man you barely knew, and his silence was not doing him any good but to piss you. It was a good thing you weren’t a sensitive person for how could you grow up to be one when you were being constantly rejected by Seokjin. He was running and pushing you away at least three times a day that you almost felt bad for him. Almost.

But this man beside you was driving you nuts

You thought he wouldn’t answer as he only chuckled without any emotions, his eyes cold as he glanced briefly at you.

“Do you know what you’ve done to him? Do you have any idea what you’re doing to my hyung?” He asked conversationally as if his words weren’t meant to be knives to you.

“Wha-“

“Put on your seatbelt,” he ordered harshly, looking at you with coldness in his eyes. “As much as I hate how you made him a mess, I know you getting hurt would messed him up further.”

“What are you talking about?!”

“You’ll see.”

Hoseok left you with no choice but to follow him, his steps brisk as he entered the Hybe building with obvious familiarity. After numerous turns, he stopped in front of a door. You heard crashes of something heavy and corresponding grunts of men struggling before you even saw him. Hoseok turned to you with coldness in his eyes before he even opened the door. And what you saw was your usually strong Jin reduced to a mess of a man. His eyes were hallow, his hair a mess as he struggled against the hold of Namjoon and Jungkook who were trying their best to contain him. Your mouth hanged agape as you took him in and the chaos that he seemed to have caused to the what you thought was once a pristine room: chair thrown across the room, devices swept off of the table, decorations askew as though they suffered from violence. He still hadn’t looked at you, still hadn’t taken notice of your presence and you didn’t know why you were glad for it.

“Hyung, stop it! You’re hurting yourself!” Jungkook pleaded, yet it was as though he wasn’t heard. Jin’s eyes were unfocused as he struggled with the hold the two men had on him, his eyes determined.

“P-Princess- I have to find her,” he mumbled incoherently as he tried to push them away.

You stepped back albeit unconsciously as though it was your mind telling you to run from this…to run from him. But you didn’t go far. You felt J-hopes hands on your shoulders, effectively preventing you from leaving.

“Where are you going?” He asked with a low voice. “Why can’t you look at what you’ve done to him?”

“I didn’t do anything to him!” You hissed at him, struggling to get away from him, only for it to draw attention to you. Namjoon was the first to notice you and he looked both alarmed and relieved by your presence. “Fix this,” Hoseok ordered you coldly.

He smiled before stepping you near to where Jin was. “I found her, hyung,” he announced gently to the man you almost couldn’t recognized. “You need to calm down now, okay? We still need to go to our shoot, hyung.”

Jin blinked his eyes before he focused on you, his body immediately relaxing upon seeing you. Yet, your eyes weren’t on him. Instead, they focused on the nondescript bottle of medicine beside him. The orange bottle looked to be almost empty. You didn’t know why it seemed to be something important, but you couldn’t help wondering…What was that?

Namjoon’s eyes widened when he saw where your eyes were and in a blink of an eye, he snatched the container and pocketed it away from your prying eyes. However, even Namjoon’s quick reflexes were not able to stop that image from being engraved in your mind. Was Seokjin…sick?

“P-princess?” Seokjin called for you, disbelief evident in his voice. He pushed their hands away from him, his sole focus on you. He stood up immediately, his long limbs carrying him. He looked as disheveled as he felt when he thought you left him again.

You couldn’t moved. It was as though you were rooted to the ground, waiting for the inevitable. You felt his arms wrapped around you like a child scared to part with you, he was trembling as he held you to him. However, his voice was dark as he whispered to you.

“Don’t leave? Please? Never leave me again. Never disappear without saying a word again. Please. I don’t know what I’ll do if you leave.”

“Something is clearly very wrong with that boy,” Seokjin’s father muttered lowly as he watched his only son talked to you in the garden.

It was Jin’s birthday and like every year, the family threw a party for their beloved son. He was perfect, they thought. He got good grades, was sporty, obedient, independent, and showed promising intelligence when it came to their company. See, he was perfect in theory. However, the older Kim couldn’t help but noticed his strange dependence on you. It wasn’t…normal, he thought.

You weren’t supposed to be here. In fact, you had an exam tomorrow and as a fourteen year-old girl, you took your studies seriously. However, Jin didn’t take your absence from his birthday lightly. Upon hearing that you wouldn’t be able to make it, it was as though he lost his smile and what took over was an expressionless face. He didn’t know how, but Seokjin was able to make several calls and lo and behold, your exam was rescheduled.

Even at his age, a ripe eighteen year-old young man, he excluded power and he wasn’t afraid to use it and his charms to get what he wanted.

“Don’t say that, honey,” Mrs. Kim chided him gently, a frown on her face as she watched her son smiled genuinely for the first time tonight. “He’s just…close with her.”

“Honey, he’s eighteen years old now. He shouldn’t act like he did just because she wasn’t near him. You know that,” he said gently, looking into his wife’s eyes with concern. “It’s not normal. His need for her isn’t normal.”

Mrs. Kim placed her tea on the table with a light thud, “Our son is perfect. There’s nothing wrong with him,” she replied in defiance.

Perhaps, if she accepted what was apparent that time, Kim Seokjin wouldn’t turn out to be evil living in the body of an angel.

Tip Jar

Hiraeth V

#kim seokjin #bts fic #yandere bts #bts fanfic #bts yandere #kim seokjin fic #yandere kim seokjin #yandere seokjin #kim seokjin x you #kim seokjin x reader #kim seokjin x y/n #seokjin x reader #seokjin fanfic #seokjin x y/n

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mahoushojounightmares · 5 months

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There is something so fucking heartbreaking about Cass in Batgirl (2000) and i think its the way that she can forgive murderers and killers she can and will attempt to save a man from death row just because she believes they could of changed . She values human life to an absurd degree and in her perception every person matters and deserves to live . Every person except Herself .

She has a death wish constantly puts herself in danger risks her life fighting Shiva and very explicitly in the text wants to die and for what . . Because she killed a man at age 8 . After being horrendously abused and trained for murder by her father.Cass who loves and cherishes absolutely every one no matter what .Cass who saves Lady Shiva - Who has killed hundreds. She won’t kill Lady Shiva who chose to kill . But she wont forgive herself She who had no choice who killed a fatcat mob boss who largely probably brought no good to the world.

And she still wants to die because she doesn’t believe she is a good person.

Its a testament to her complete adoration and worship of life and her nauseating abuse at David Cain hand’s.

Because even after everything she still doesn’t truly believe her father a bad man for putting her through all that nightmarish abuse . She strictly views him as bad because he forced her to kill . It wasn’t her fault AND SHE KNOWS THAT.

But she still doesn’t forgive herself even if she can forgive anyone else on the planet. She still wishes for death.

#cass my baby #cassandra cain #cassandra cain meta #dc #dc comics #cass cain #dc meta #batfam meta #i adore batgirl (2000) i own every comic she appears in

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backupblogforjg · 2 years

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We can love the person he has turned out to be without whitewashing the crappy things he has done

Guys, I know Darius is cool, but can we please stop victim-blaming Hunter and acting like the way even the good adults in his life treated him is NBD?

‘Cause I keep seeing a lot of “okay Darius was mean to Hunter at first, but Hunter was a brat who got the job because of nepotism, so...” comments.

And look, I really think people in general are hugely underestimating just how badly Hunter was screwed over not just by Belos but by *ALL* the adults around him.

1) Let’s start by establishing something first: Hunter was never a brat to anybody in the castle.

Now, to be clear, even IF Hunter had been a brat, people 30 years older than him should still have not made his bad situation worse. If there are two people, and one of them is an adult while the other is a kid, the adult is supposed to keep their cool even if the kid acts out. You can punch up but you can’t punch down.

But that point is moot because all the evidence we have points at Hunter being a little nerd who adored the adults around him and was desperate to please them.

Exhibit #1: Dana’s official art, where Hunter freaks out over being slightly less overworked because it will make Lilith hate him. Even with the mask, you can tell he has a frantic expression.

Exhibit #2: the Hunter’s Palisman Observation stream, when Hunter has a question and is looking for an answer, he reaches out to the Coven Heads to ask them. He sees them as wise and knowledgeable, and wants to learn from them. That makes it extra hurtful that “Darius ignored me, as per usual. Eberwolf hissed at me, also as per usual.”

Exhibit #3: in ASIAS, we learn that Hunter genuinely loves rules and authority. Does that sound like somebody who’d disrespect an adult in charge?

Exhibit #4: pretty much the entirety of ASIAS. The whole reason Hunter went to Hexside is because an adult who technically ranks below him gave him an order.

There is a grand total of TWO examples in the series where Hunter talks back to an adult.

The first one is when he sees Kikimora again after she tried to murder him.

Note that he never tells Belos what she did, even though he didn’t realise that she had recognised him by his burnt hair, so he thought that she had actually bought his “travellers found me” story and wouldn’t be able to respond to his accusations with any of her own. He could have easily thrown her under the bus, and actively chose not to, even after she almost killed him.

The second one is in ASIAS, where an angry Hunter confronts the Coven Heads after they rescheduled the meeting behind his back, right after they physically pushed him aside hard enough to almost make him fall and walked away smirking at his misery.

Note that, immediately after, he looks like this. Arguing with the Coven Heads makes him miserable. He doesn’t want to fight them. He’d much rather ask “how high” when they say “jump.” But they still casually assault him.

They all knew that Belos had given him the order to leads the meeting. And they knew that Belos is a control freak who is infamous for his lack of mercy. They knew that Belos would see their decision to reschedule as Hunter’s fault, even though they did it behind his back.

If you think he was being arrogant or whatever here, I want you to look me straight in the eyes and tell me that if your coworkers screwed you over in front of your infamously vicious boss and walked away smirking while pretending they can’t see you and literally pushing you around, you would totally keep your cool.

2) The nepotism excuse also doesn’t work.

Nepotism is supposed to make your life easier.

Hunter is a child covered in scars with huge eyebags and absolutely no social life whatsoever who rolls over and shows his neck the second an authority figure expresses any displeasure with him.

It’s plain to see that getting Belos’ “special treatment” is harming him.

Hunter eventually does pull out the “Belos’ nephew” card, in an attempt to get Darius to back off.

But by this point, he:

- knows he has disappointed Belos, something that he fears more than death (as per Eclipse Lake)

- has been assaulted by the other Coven Heads...

- ...who added insult to injury by pretending they couldn’t see him, really rubbing it in that they find him worthless

- and then Darius, a man twice his size and thrice his age, grabbed him, spun him around, and stole his clothes

Tl:dr: Hunter is not acting entitled here, he is acting *cornered*. He is lashing out because he is scared, and like any scared kid he is calling out to his “dad.”

And the moment Darius tells him that he has to earn his position as Golden Guard, Hunter immediately agrees to do anything. There is no entitlement there, only a desperate desire to be good enough.

3) On the Boiling Isles, a half-a-witch is at best a social outcast and at worst a target.

For starters, a half-a-witch can’t get an education. You have to be able to perform spells to be allowed to go to school.

Granted this is for Amity’s advanced class, but the idea is that you have to get there eventually, even if it takes you much longer than the gifted students. In order to go to Hexside, you must at least have the potential to use magic.

Before Luz came into the scene, glyphs were a forbidden knowledge that had been lost for hundreds of years. Add in that palismen are close to extinction, and there is simply no way for a half-a-witch to do magic.

So, you can’t go to school. But can you at least get a job?

Ah. No.

Eda gets robbed in public by an officer of the law, in plain view of a huge crowd, and their reaction boils down to “sucks to be powerless.”

A half-a-witch essentially has no rights. They are not treated as citizens. It’s completely legal to ban them from essential functions and to refuse them pay for their labor.

If Eda had not found the Selkiedomus’ treasure, she and her family would have starved.

The discrimination against magicless creatures is so bad that even Hooty, arguably the nicest character in the show, still expresses scorn for them.

Hunter wasn’t exaggerating in the slightest here.

Being magicless is basically the BI equivalent of being disabled in a society that actively favours eugenics.

4) So, what did Darius do that was so bad?

Now, before anybody takes this post as Darius bashing, I want to bring up why he did it.

- Darius was clearly traumatised by the death of his mentor...

- ...who not only died, but also died in circumstances that must have been highly suspicious at best, so that Darius never even got proper closure and has been living with that open wound for years...

- ...in addition to the fact that Darius is extremely protecting of his loved ones, so that he must have felt the urge to protect the memory and legacy of his mentor...

- ...and that’s made ten times more painful if the replacement, who acts like the antithesis of everything his beloved mentor stood for, looks almost exactly like his mentor.

Can you imagine the grief is somebody you love with all your heart dies, and then some time later they appear to come back as an insult to everything they were?

So, I’m not denying that Darius had his own reasons here, nor am I arguing that he is a terrible person.

In case you don’t know, I like Darius so much I wrote a meta titled “Why Darius is a much better person than Fandom gives him credit for.” I like the guy, okay?

Nevertheless, he almost caused irreparable damage.

One of the reasons Hunter is so desperately loyal to Belos, is that Belos is the only one who never looked down on him for his lack of magic.

Now of course the bitter irony here is that Belos is racist against witches.

But Hunter didn’t know that.

All Hunter knew was that every person he ever met thought he was worthless for the way he was born, *except* for Belos, who said he was special.

And what does Darius do? He goes and reinforces Hunter’s belief that nobody but Belos will ever accept him.

Now, we know that Darius wasn’t really talking about magic there. We don’t know if all grimwalkers lack magic or just Hunter, but either way, later context clues indicate that he was talking about “strength of heart” or something like that.

Nevertheless, he most definitely came across like he was saying that Hunter has no place in the EC because he has no magic.

And Darius is not stupid. He had to know what he sounded like. And he didn’t bother correcting Hunter’s assumption, let him believe that the problem with him were the circumstances of his birth.

Why did Hunter befriend the Emerald Entrails? Because he accidentally stepped on a griffon’s tail. It was sheer dumb luck. If Hunter had put his foot a couple of inches aside, he never would have met Willow.

If not for a single stroke of extraordinarily unlikely good luck, Hunter would have gone back to the castle more convinced than ever that Belos was the only person in the world who could ever give a damn about him, the only one Hunter could ever love and trust.

Darius’ words would have driven him even further into the grasp of his abuser.

This is on top of the fact that Hunter canonically reaches out many times to Darius and Eberwolf over the years, and they always responded by giving him the silent treatment. Again, “Darius ignored me as per usual, Eberwolf hissed at me also as per usual.” How can they blame him for being an ignorant fanatic, if they have systematically rebuffed any and all of his attempts to talk to the only people in the castle who are not Belos’ stooges?

And on top of the fact that “you always do as you are told” is one hell of a line to give a kid *who gets blades thrown at his face* if he says a single word Belos doesn’t like. Hunter’s devotion to Belos is also his shield from violent beatings. If Hunter ever acted “rebellious” to Belos, Belos wouldn’t just send him to his room without dinner.

5) Has Darius changed?

Duh.

6) So what’s the problem?

Remember when people were like “Amity is doing right by Willow now, but she still needs to apologise”?

And when people were like “Alador has finally started walking in the right direction towards eventually becoming a decent father for his kids, but the first step was admitting that he treated them horribly”?

As far as I know, nobody was like “Amity is cool now so there is no need for her to say sorry to Willow, and Willow kind of sucked anyway” or like “Alador is cool now so wtf does Amity have to bitch about and move his hand away, just hug it out and ignore the past”?

What this whole tl;dr essay boils down to, is that S3 needs to have a scene where the good adults in Hunter’s life acknowledge that they did him dirty, without excuses and without victim blaming.

That’s all.

#toh #the owl house #toh darius #darius deamonne #toh hunter #golden guard #hunter wittebane #hunter deamonne #eberwolf the huntsman #lilith clawthorne

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theyanderespecialist · 3 months

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Base Yandere Velvette Headcanons: I'm The Hashtag Yandere and Do What I Please

[Hello, My Sexy Muffins! I had this VOTE on YouTube for the next videos/headcanons and you all were more than HALF of you! Wanted to see Velvette so here she is! Headcanons on Wattpad, Tumblr, and Archive! And A YouTube video version of it! Enjoy this!]

(Disclaimer: Velvette is not yandere in canon! This is just for fun, and not to be taken seriously at all! Simping for fictional characters is fine! Just do not be illegal or gross about it! Yanderes are not ideal partners to have in real life! Also, remember to separate fiction from reality and headcanon from canon!)

-Base Yandere Headcanons With Velvette from Hazbin Hotel-

.Velvette is the glue that holds the two other V's together.

.She is also the youngest of the V's and the youngest of the overlords.

.She has high ambitions though and wants to make her status in hell top tier and everlasting.

.She fell in love with you, one of the people that work in the Vs towers. You were not a model, and your soul did not belong to any of the V's.

.You just knew where the money was to be made, and knew that the Vs could very well be the future of hell.

.She had you work in her department, she wanted to make you into a model, but she chose not to.

.As she does not want to share you with anyone else.

.Though she personally designs clothes for you, you really are her doll.

.She dresses you up how she likes you to look, and does your hair how she likes it.

.You are more or less a dress-up doll for her and because she is an overlord you really cannot say no to her.

.Besides you do not mind as much cause she has the best style and she actually does make you look really fucking good.

.She would see you when you are her partner as needed to uphold the Vs brand, so you have to look as stylish as possible.

.She is also the backbone of the V's and is willing to go after what she wants even willing to fight other overlords.

.this affects you as she is willing to fight for you and throw down for you.

.She will get right in the thick of it and beat the living shit out of anyone that tries to steal you away from her.

.She is your partner and if some unlucky bitch tries and steals you away from her, well they are good as double dead.

.She is a bit of a critical and judgy yandere, she knows when you are looking at others and she is very critical of it.

.She is also very judgy of anyone you are interested in.

.She will verbally belittle them and mock them, telling them how worthless they are and how pathetic they are.

.She will make them feel like absolutely vile creatures for daring to catch your attention.

.That or she will just kill them. It depends on her mood that day.

.She is also VERY Observant, she can tell when anyone takes an interest in you, which she puts a stop to right away.

.She also can tell if you are into her or not.

.Which allows her to manipulate your feelings and make it so that you do start to develop feelings for her.

.That is right she is also a very manipulative yandere, and will also most likely gaslight you as well.

.She is all about the grind, girl boss, and gaslight lifestyle.

.She is also very quick-witted and quick on her feet.

.She can react very fast and well to learning new things. So she can outsmart you and be several steps ahead of you as well.

.She knows that she is the best option for you and that you are the best option for her.

.She will possibly drug you, with her love potion.

.Cause that is right, she is great at cooking and potion making.

.She in canon uses Valentino Phermone salvia to help make a love potion which I suppose works like a aphrodsiac, ectasy, and possibly the Date R Word Drug maybe.

.She would use it on you as a very last resort. She rather not use it, but she is not above sinking that low to be with you.

.She also might make a new potion to make you have feelings for her.

.In which you are still yourself but you are attracted to her and want to be with her and only her.

.Again that is a last resort. She will sink that low, but only as the very last option.

.She will keep Valentino away from you, threatening to cut off his dick if he tried anything with you.

.She also gets along with Vox very well so she uses his cameras to keep an eye on you, and make sure you are safe when not with her.

.She is FOR SURE 1000 percent a stalker type of yandere.

.In which she stalks your socails medias, stalks you with Vox camera, and has put cameras and micrphones in your home.

.She knows where you are (Most likely is tracking you.) at all times.

.If you step to close to other Overlord's territories she will remind you that you work for her and that you are hers! And NO ONE Else's so stay where you are allowed to go!

.She is low key a very controlling yandere.

.She is also a very good cook and cooks for you all the time. She uses it as a way to smooth over any arguments.

.And she will drug the food to if she needs to.

.If worse comes to worse she will chain you to her bed and make sure that you can never ever leave her.

.She rather not do that, but she will is she has to.

.She also LOVES To show you off, you are her trophy darling and a prize that she has.

.She is going to make sure all of hell knows that you are hers and hers alone.

.How she deals with rivals, verbally, socially, emotionally, and physically ruining them and humiliating them.

.Most like making a public example of them and what happens when someone tries to steal you away from her.

.She would confess to you and offer a marriage soul contract. Where you give her your soul and become her spouse.

.If you accept this, you will sign and there will be no escape she will own you and you will be hers for the rest of the time.

.If you reject the proposal and her feelings, well be ready to be drugged and have her force you to sign it.

.One way or another you will give her your soul, it just matters how many freedoms you want, cause if she has to force you to sign it.

.You can be sure to be changed to the bed while she punishes you for trying to say no to her.

.You never say no to her, you belong to her, and you are damn lucky she loves you, or she would let Val punish you for telling her no.

.She would never actually let Val touch you, but she would threaten it, just to scare you into being a good partner.

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS finally got this chapter done! I hope you all enjoyed this and stay sexy!]

#yandere #yandere velvette #yandere hazbin hotel #yandere headcanons #headcanon #hazbin hotel #hazbin velvette #hazbin hotel velvette #velvette #velvette x reader #reader #gender neutral reader #gender neutral

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deadpool15 · 7 months

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Sugarbaby vibes ✨️

I walked out of the fitting room wearing the shit Chanel set. Let's be honest I looked to fucking die for, but once I saw the price it looked mid. Of course I wanted it and speaking of price it's Chanel what did I expect. If anything I suggested, let's go thrifting, as you can tell I didn't grow up with money. I'm still trying to get used to living this life now, it's crazy hoe just last week I was struggling to afford a pack of fucking Ramen at the convenience store and now I live in a penthouse. Your girl did, in fact, come up in life. You all better be proud. All thanks to the one and only Bada Lee.

Bada is about 28, and I'm 22, so there is a slight age gap if you care about any of that. Shit I didn't. I just needed someone to pay my bills. How we met it quite an interesting story if you think about it, I mean, I didn't sign up for a sugar mama like on the weird ass movies or stories you see on Wattpad. I was, in fact, working as a waiter in this high-end restaurant with might I add a shitty pay. Why are we serving all this expensive ass shit and in only getting made a few bucks in an hour? It's giving slavery, and not mentions my boss who, like most men, convince himself within the 3 minutes of hiring me that I was destined to be his furtre wife and the mother of his children as he call it. If you wanted to know what crazy looks like, we'll Mr. Kim is a prime example.

But we are getting of topic. See, I don't wanna tell you about my overly obsessive ass boss. I wanna tell you about the women who turned my life around. Serving tables is absolute shit, especially when no matter how rich one is, they never tip. "Hey Blue, bossman says he needs you at table six." I turned around to my partner in crime, Leslie. I'm happy to see her until I realized what she said, "I'm on break, though, like all these people around here . Can't he bother someone else." She gave me a sad smile and shrugged, "no, you know he likes to watch you suffer, because he expects after a while you will give in and let him take you out on a date." I stare at her with disgust.

"Yea, never mind your you're right. I'll take my chances with the wolves again. I'm just get going. If he asks again, make sure to tell him I chose getting screamed and yelled at my rich elderly woman over acknowledging his existence. " I hurried and jog off before she could say anything, grabbing my notepad and pen out of my pocket I had towards table six. With the biggest fake smile on. The love I have for these customers is crazy.

I stand there saying my usual line in the most chipper voice one can muster, whiteout even looking at the person sitting down in front of me. "Hello, ladies and gentlemen. I'm blue and very happy to serve you tonight. So what can I get, you folks?" I hear someone speak before muttering something about how I'm pretty, then I finally gather the courage to look up and see a group of women. All dressed to perfection, clothes tailored just to fit their figure. Those majority of them look around my age or slightly older. After a moment of being caught in a daze while overanlyzing them, I turn to her the tallest one of the bun speak up. "I would like to have a water to drink and just some shrimp pasta."

I make eye contact with her and my God. This is the most beautiful creature I've ever seen in my life. It almost feels like i should have to pay a fee to look upon her face. My stare moves down to her lips and not e how nice and pump they are. I would kill to suck on those lips, to feel what they tasted like even. I realize I've just been staring at her while the rest of the women have spoken uo about their order already. "Oo, I'm s-so sorry." I state being an absolute nervous wreck while looking down at my notepad. I hope she didn't notice that. "It's fine, sweetheart," I heard the girl that was referred to ad Lusher somewhere in the conversation state to me. I hurry up and excuse myself to go get their orders. She keeps staring at me, bitting the inner part of her check. Eventually, they leave after a while, leaving a $200 tip for me. I almost couldn't believe it. This I'd the first time someone has ever given me that much money as a tip.

After a while, the girl continues to come to our little restaurant. Same table, same confidence aura and everything. She makes it seem as if she is trying to just get something to eat. We continue to see each other even after work. She would pop in on my breaks, and around the time, I would clock out. She was intimidating. I'll get her that. I spoke with class, and her vibe just let you know she had money. And it seemed she had her eyes on a certain girl. Me. Though, after beating around the bush, Bada told me exactly what she wanted. "I want to take care of you. You'll never have to worry about a single thing when you're with me. Or lift a finger. Give you the life you deserve, baby. I mean, you are a cute little waitress, but you can be so much more. Why waste your time when you have me. Just say the words, and I'll take care of you."

Some might've immediately said yes, and to be honest, I would've to. Until Bada told me there were rules. Which did kinda throw me off a bit. I mean, I thought I had the whole idea down until well, I realized I didn't. It wasn't just about the money it was the pleasure. How much would she give me, and fuck did she give me a lot. Well lived by only a few rules, but Bada took them very seriously.

Rule 1: Don't question anything

Rule 2: Don't talk back

Rule 3: Don't touch yourself

You should've seen the look on my face when I heard the third rule, I mean, at the bright age of 22, who the hell doesn't masturbate. Literally made no sense to me until she tried to explain it further. "I give you pleasure. I'm the only one who should be touching you. I'm general baby. You belong entirely to me. That's how this works. Therefore, you shouldn't be doing anything without my permission cupcake." After finally going over the terms, I agreed in the end. At the end of the day, I was a broke college student who desperately needed the money, and Bada just so happens to be the sexy older one willing to give it to me. In a sense, I was happy with my current predicament. My life was going well. Now, back to what I was saying earlier.

I stared at myself in the mirror. Sometimes, I forget that I can look this good. "Yea, ayye, get it, girl." In the process of hyping myself up, I finally hear a voice speak up from behind me, scaring the absolute shit out of me. "I'm glad you like it, baby. It does look good on you, I told you I have an eye for beautiful things. I mean, just look at my baby girl." She says while holding on to my waist, kissing my neck slowly. I smile for a while until I realize what she is doing. "Baby, we are in public, a fitting room at that. We aren't doing that here," I say, trying to be firm while avoiding her glaze in the mirror.

"What did I tell you about saying no to me, huh? Do you make the rules?" She forcefully grabbed my chin when she caught on to the act. She grabs my breast while still making eye contact with me in the mirror. "That's right, just stand right here, ok? Gonna be my good girl, right?" I stare at the door, thinking about the people outside that will hear us. While I'm thinking about them, Bada moved the hand that was holding me under my top, slowly circling my right nipple. "Gonna be good, right?" She asks again,she never has enough patience to ask again. It seems she is being nice today. I nod my head at her question this time.

"Word babygirl, I need to hear you. Let them hear you. Just stop all that thinking for me." I whimper at her words. Finally, forgetting about the staff in the store. She moves her hand down my body, teasing me with her pace. "P-please, I'll be g-good. Gonna be so good for you." She smirks, looking down at my face before moving her hand towards my soaked pussy. "Always so f-fucking good for me, aren't you? My precious little baby. Just needs to be filled, like always." I look into her eyes in the mirror about to answer her before she insert a finger into me, all while still playing with my breasts. She knows my body like the back of her hand. Doesn't even have to try to find the spot.

"Yea, right there, come on. I can't hear you, baby girl." I know exactly the game she is playing at, but I can only stand there moaning like a bitch in heat being held on my weak jelly-like legs as she adds two more fingers. While she grinds her hips into me, fuck those bloody dancers and there hips. "Y-yes y-yes... shit o fuck right there". She just smiles at my reactions. Assuming to her if anything. "Were gonna buy this little outfit, then I'm gonna by 28 fucking more just to fuck the shit out of you in them. And you gonna let me, aren't you?. Gonna take it like a good girl who just needs her holes filled, right?" I shake my head, screaming yes over and over again while nodding profusely. Seems that's the only word my brain can come up with as she starts to suck down on my neck leaving marks while circling my clit with her thumbs. And she still continues to thrust those same three fingers in and out of me ob command.

"Fucked you dumb, aww that's adorable baby. But we just started, " She says while smirking, and I stare at her in a mix of fear and pleasure. "Now open those legs wider for me, baby girl."

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