#but that brings me to my main complaint | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aniharas · 3 months

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𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘤��𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥

pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!reader

summary: on your first day back at spider society hq, your male colleagues are inexplicably drawn to you. your boss, miguel, seems to be affected more than anybody. surely there's an explanation and solution, but who were you to resist?

warnings: explicit language, sexual tension/content, use of pheromones (please let me know if i need to add more!)

wc: 9.6k+ oneshot

a/n: apparently there was a rumor that a body butter named Delícia Drench (hence name of the fic) attracted wolf spiders! somebody on reddit said it's because there might be two ingredients that imitate the pheromones of a female spider and it'll bring all the thirsty boy spiders to your yard. and with miguel being 50% spider, how could i resist writing? (shoutout to scarlet for the wonderful prompt!) however DISCLAIMER! these claims are unfounded, i just thought it was a fun prompt to write off of. anything i say in the fic referring to the butter is purely fictional and im just talking out of my ass. with that being said, enjoy!

Just before the sun began to rise over the city line of Earth-766’s New York, your hand shot out to slam the snooze button of your annoying alarm clock before it could even go off. The silky sheets you were laid in were far too comfortable, reluctant to release you from its dreamlike embrace, but alas, duty was calling. The holidays had come to a close, and your peaceful vacation back in your home dimension was a bliss escape away from your tiring job.

You didn’t hate your job; in fact, it was just the opposite. Since you were in middle school, you always had an unrivaled passion for chemistry, as many Spiders were. Your life before getting bitten by that spider was mainly winning science fairs, calibration rooms, and working towards your Ph.D. Even after becoming your New York’s one and only Spiderwoman, your academic pursuit never ceased, eventually landing yourself at the prestigious Alchemax. However, it was because you had secured such a high-profile job that you caught the attention of the Spider Society, in the form of its leader, Miguel. He somehow knew that you were on the path to creating a more stable version of Rapture, and because of this, he was persistent in roping you into his ranks.

At first, you had declined profusely, briskly walking away from where he had approached you in Central Park. The brisk walk eventually turned into a full-on Spider chase, although the uniqueness of his abilities seemed to distract you. The talons that protruded from his fingers that tore through metal like paper, the neon-red nature of his webs, and his fangs. His fangs were what intrigued you the most. Eventually, you were pincered by him and another Spiderwoman named Jessica, who would later become one of your best friends.

Alas, you accepted, although not until being lured in by the offer of all the technology and scientific advancements you could imagine in Nueva York. The first time you had entered the HQ’s lab, you were like a kid in the candy store. You loved your job, which involved tailoring different types of chemical equipment, unique for each Spider that came by, as well as equally unique medicines and antidotes for the medical ward.

Your main job, however, was developing the Rapture injection, the one you were recruited for, almost daily. And for who other than your broody boss? Even though he hadn’t left the best impression after chasing you like a madman in your hometown, you were required to work with him. And in the beginning, it would be an understatement to say it was challenging. Miguel was a whirlwind of sarcastic remarks and impatience who constantly nagged you for any updates. And to make it worse, each morning, you would make your way to Miguel’s office and inject him with your experimental Rapture of the day. Then in the evening, you would return to observe the effects. The days consisted of constant complaints that you were late, that the injection didn’t have the intended effect, and that Rapture was your top priority, all of which were grating on your soul.

Since your daily routine started and ended with Miguel, your relations grew slightly amicable over time. It started with silent gestures of gratitude: a cup of steaming coffee left in your office in the lab, bringing extra dinner for him during the end-of-the-day check-ups. After 3 months of your stay at the Society, you both started communicating with your watches (He was insistent that you call the watches gizmos, to which you adamantly refused). At first, it was only about work and your Rapture progress. The conversations then slowly changed into more casual ones, topics ranging from your pets back home to him venting his frustrations about the shenanigans of whatever Hobie was up to that day. Sure, he was slightly more friendly (which wasn’t a feat considering who he was), but his irritable nature was still a turn-off for you, and the sarcasm leaping into every evaluation didn’t help either. You considered him lucky that he was quite the eye candy. He was actually pretty attractive whenever he shut his mouth.

This particular morning was your official return to Nueva York after two weeks, so you decided you would put a bit more effort into your routine. Reluctantly, you rose from your bed and stumbled towards your bathroom, wincing at the harsh cold of its floor underneath your feet. You allowed yourself a moment of bliss under your hot shower, trying your best to wash away any stress you were anticipating that day. Once you had finally stepped out of the shower, you quickly dried yourself off and wrapped a plush towel securely around your body, trying your best not to slip as you trudged over to the bathroom counter. Admittedly, you weren’t the most graceful Spider; you were on the smarter side.

Then it was the usual sequence of your routine. Brushing and blow-drying your hair, skincare, and makeup. Just as you were about to make your way to your closet, you realized that you had forgotten your lotion, which you would’ve considered disastrous. Nothing bothered you more than your own dry skin. By habit, you were about to reach for the usual bottle until an unopened box tempted you from the corner of your eye. As you turned it around in your hands and delicately unpackaged it, you silently chastised yourself for almost forgetting. It was a body butter, given to you by Jessica during a surprise visit on Christmas day.

“This is from Lyla. She says to thank her later,” Jessica had said on that day vaguely before giving a brief hug.

Unscrewing the lid from the jar, you smiled to yourself. If there was anyone other than Jessica that you truly missed over your break, it was Lyla. The hologram assistant never failed to make you smile with the many ways she’d tease Miguel, but she also never failed in constantly bringing up asking him out. “I don’t care if he’s your boss,” Lyla would say. “I’d know more than anyone if he has the hots for you, and he guess what? He does!” Which was hard to believe, considering his persistent stubbornness in your day-to-day interactions.

Once the lid was finally off, a waft of vanilla with a hint of sandalwood drifted into the air. Inhaling the scent of the butter deeply, you felt oddly touched. This was undeniably a scent that was up your alley, and it was very thoughtful. As you worked it into your skin, you made a mental note to thank Lyla. It was when you were just about finished that you noticed something peculiar. You had caught a subtle whiff of another note, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. It was elusive, teasing your senses as you racked your brain for what it could possibly be. Figuring it was just an ester you smelled in your various experiments, you left the bathroom to get dressed, with a more confident aura around yourself.

–

Your first day back couldn’t have started any more peculiar.

You had barely gotten the chance to take in the surroundings of your beloved HQ before you were instantly greeted with Hobie swinging in as he called your name, landing just in front of you.

“Evil genius. Heard you’d be back today,” Hobie greeted with his signature half-smile, his lanky arms immediately opening to embrace you. Which was weird, considering he was more of a handshake-y/shadowboxing type of greeter. But he was a joy to have around in your lab (despite him not particularly having too much interest in your work), so you didn’t refuse.

“You’ve gotten taller,” you replied with a grin on your face, happily accepting his embrace. While it was comforting, you noticed that it was taking a while for him to pull away. Passing it off as mere affection, you pulled away and looked up at Hobie’s face. He seemed almost bewildered as he stared down at you, almost in some sort of trance. Was he looking at your lips? Was he looking further down?

“Uh, Earth-928 to Hobie? Helloo?” you called out, snapping your fingers in front of him repeatedly in an attempt to wake him up. It wasn’t until the 5th or 6th snap that he finally seemed to jolt awake, although still fixated on you.

“Oh. My bad, fam,” he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. You raised a brow at his mannerisms; it was extremely unlike him to act so nervous. You then gave him a reassuring pat on his shoulder, and you swore you saw him slightly tense at the feeling.

“So, you got a new cologne or somethin’ like that? Hold on, not cologne…what’s it called? Perfume? Toilettes?” Hobie began rambling, seemingly in a desperate attempt to cover up his uncharacteristic awkwardness.

“Oh, Lyla got me-”

You were cut off by another voice shouting your name to your left. It was one of the many Peters. “How’s my favorite scientist been? How was your vacay?”

“Just stayed at home,” you answered, a bit startled as you tried to split your attention between Peter and Hobie. “Anyways, Lyla-”

Another voice chimed in behind you. “I heard your universe is one of the most beautiful. You were definitely up to something.” Then another. “It’s been forever since I last saw you!” Another. “Wanna come eat with us at the caf?” You even heard Ben’s voice, to which you were surprised he had taken a break from his usual moping to join the ever-growing commotion around you. “You smell nice!” Soon, all the greetings and compliments became a garbled mess in your ears, your view obscured by a wall of Spiders.

You tried your best to force on a polite smile as you tried to weave your way through the oncoming traffic of people. To you, this was completely unexpected and foreign. Sure, you had made lots of friends in your time at HQ, but people weren’t exactly buzzed to see you. At most, you’d get a friendly wave as you passed by each other in the twisty pathways. Now, they acted like you were an oasis in a desert. As you whipped your head around, you noticed something in the ever-growing crowd around you: it was all Spidermen. That irked you slightly; you had made many Spiderwomen friends as well. Where were they? Becoming slightly dizzy with the growing clamor around you, you were just about ready to web yourself up to the ceiling and swing your way to your lab.

As if your prayers were miraculously answered, the familiar rev of an engine overpowered the clamor of the Spidermen, and they immediately parted ways down the middle to reveal Jessica, staring at you with an amused grin as she sat on her motorcycle.

"I’ll take you to HQ if you tell me what the hell’s going on!” Jessica offered, her voice raised so that you could hear.

Instant relief flooded through your body as you nearly sprinted your way to Jessica, planting a grateful kiss on her cheek before hopping on the back of the motorcycle. As you both sped away, you still waved goodbye to the Spidermen, despite how weird you had felt mere seconds prior. As if things couldn’t get any weirder, you noticed that the crowd you had left behind had almost immediately dispersed, with only some lingering around to chat.

“God, Jess. I’ve been here for two minutes, and I think I’ve already had the weirdest day out of everyone here!” you remarked loudly with a heavy sigh. You linked your arms around Jessica’s waist to remain stable on the motorcycle, eyes squinted from traveling at such a high speed.

Jessica only seemed to chuckle in response as she steered through the complicated structure, towards your lab. “Yeah? Try being pregnant!” she called out over the wind, her curls tossing about in the wind.

Your eyes widened immediately upon the revelation. “You’re lying, shut up,” you scolded, immediately feeling over Jessica’s stomach to verify it. Lo and behold, your hands smoothed over the beginnings of a bump, which caused you to squeal out in excitement. “Oh my god, Jess! When is it due?!”

“6 months! So don’t hold on so tight!” Jessica chided playfully as she effortlessly navigated her way through the building, shouting at countless Spiders to move out of her way. You held on for dear life, but of course, not too tight.

Eventually, you reached your beloved lab, to which you both entered. The door hissed closed behind you, and after you had set your bag down, you immediately sprung into action. This was simultaneously your sanctuary and your training, where you were at your best. Jessica watched from a nearby stool, gently holding her stomach.

“So this is where you cook up the good stuff, hm?” Jessica quipped, her eyes glued to the liquid that was poured into an instant syringe.

“Somebody’s gotta keep the boss alive,” you chuckled, your meticulous hands carefully measuring out just the right amount of Rapture before sealing it closed. This was the new batch that you had been working on at home, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t eager to show Miguel. “Speaking of which, I’ll need a lift there.” Packing the syringe into a box, you motioned for Jessica to come with you as you began to walk toward the sealed doors. That was until you were stopped by your pregnant friend’s hand in your face.

“Hold up, hon. You still never explained what was going on out there,” Jessica reminded you in a stern tone with an equally stern look.

“Jess, I wanna know as much as you do.” You paused, taking a deep breath as you recounted the event. “Maybe it's just a…welcome committee thingy.”

Jessica gave you a pointed look as a scoff left her lips. “Welcome committee, my ass. Those guys were like pirates, and you were a siren. It was more like a…’Welcome Back, I Would Die For Your Attention’ committee.”

As much as you wanted to bite back, it was unfortunate that she was right. While most of the Spider-folk were kind, as they tended to be, they were never that eager to see you before. People you thought you could never shake were in the crowd. Did it feel nice? You were ashamed that it did, just slightly, but perhaps for a different reason than you thought.

Perhaps Miguel would be the same.

Noting your silence and your brows creased in thought, Jessica gave you a reassuring smile as she stood to pat you on the back. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop messing with you,” she chuckled, giving you a gentle push toward the door. “But something’s up, and I’ll get to the bottom of it.”

“Yeah, yeah, let me know when you figure it out. I’d like to know too,” you said as you narrowed your eyes at her, although you could never keep a serious face with your best friend as you broke out into a smile.

With that, you both stepped out of the lab, only to be immediately greeted by another crowd of Spidermen that had gathered outside the entrance. Your face twisted into annoyance as you looked to Jessica for help.

“Move, people!” she shouted out above the onslaught of chattering Spidermen. “Unless you want to work with Miguel for a week!” With that, the crowd easily dispersed, scattering like…well, spiders. Despite the situation you were in, you were glad that many of them felt the same way about working with Miguel. Outside of work, he was bearable, but his free time was rare.

After another short ride on Jessica’s motorcycle through the complex, you reached Miguel’s office. You took a deep breath, giving your friend a firm nod as you prepared to walk through the automatic doors. As soon as you were about to take a step, Lyla apparated in front of you, sliding down her heart-shaped shades to get a good look at you.

“It’s been forever! Just know I’d hug you if I could,” the assistant exclaimed with the widest grin you’ve ever seen on her. Her playful antics were infectious, and her cheery tone seemed to wipe away the stress the day had accumulated so far. “Sooo, how’d you like your gift?”

“Oh! Right, uh, I’m wearing it right now,” you stammered out, feeling terrible. The morning had been so hectic that you forgot to seek out Lyla and thank her properly. Your response made Jessica raise a brow and lean over toward you, taking a whiff. You looked at her. “What do you think?”

“You smell sweet,” Jessica remarked, then paused, as if analyzing your scent a bit more. “And…womanly.”

Lyla seemed to nod eagerly at this statement, her virtual eyes glinting with curiosity as she prodded at you further. “And what’s it like?”

Perplexed by the wording of the question, you hesitated to answer. What on earth did either of them mean? Everyone was acting strange today. “Um, the vanilla is really nice, I had no idea you knew that I liked that sort of stuff. It was very thoughtful, Lyla.”

Lyla continued to stare at you a bit more intently, seeming to wait for another answer from you until she seemed to give up. “That’s good, I’m glad you love it,” she replied, though there was a hint of something enigmatic in her response. As if she were physically standing in front of the door to the office, Lyla stepped to the side, gesturing for them to go in as the doors slid open. “You can come in, but consider yourself warned. Miguel’s cranky at the moment.”

“When is he not?” You muttered, mostly to yourself, but you could hear Jessica snicker at your side as you both strolled in. The familiar hum of Miguel’s futuristic machinery filled your ears, the metallic interior of his office coldly greeting her eyes. When you first spotted your boss up on his platform (which was redundant, in your opinion), he was already wearing his suit. You swore he always wore it to show off his physique. He had his back turned to the both of you, seeming to intently stare at the screens and holograms in front of him blankly.

“Does he ever not do that?” Jessica muttered under her breath to you as you both stared ahead. It was so simple for her to break your resolve, pressing your lips together in a tight line to prevent yourself from letting out even the smallest sound.

“Are you ever not late?”

Miguel’s sharp voice immediately cut through the playful nature that surrounded the two of you. The smile immediately dropped from your face, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. How could somebody already be so irritated? The day hadn’t even started.

You glanced toward Jessica briefly before answering, trying to keep your voice steady. “I was just stuck in the lobby-”

“Yeah, I saw,” Miguel interjected coldly as he turned his head toward the hologram-screen that displayed the security feed. With a simple flick of his hand, the screen swiped out of view as he turned to face you, his face twisted into an unfamiliar emotion, albeit clearly not a pleasant one. “Really glad you had the time to mingle. Not like we’re on a schedule or anything.”

If Miguel hadn’t been 6’9” of almost entirely pure muscle, you swore you would’ve swung up and lunged at him like a rabid animal. Would it have killed him to be just a bit understanding? He was watching you through the feed, how was any of that your fault? His mockery and grumpy attitude were things you’d grown used to, but today, it was particularly biting. It seemed…personal.

Jessica seemed to feel the same way as you heard her snort audibly in response. This directed his attention towards her, his glare unwavering. “And you,” he began, pointing a finger directly at her. “What did I tell you about riding that thing through my building?”

“ Our building,” she bit back, her posture nonchalant as she lazily examined her nails. “How about you yell at the people who got in her way, smart guy?”

Miguel rolled his eyes at her remark, seemingly ready to go back and forth until he glanced down at her stomach. He then shook his head, gesturing to shoo her away. “I…I don’t even wanna get into it with you. Just…get out.”

Elbowing you lightly, Jessica leaned closer to you with a smirk. “See? Pregnancy perks,” she joked. “But I would’ve preferred a vacation.” You clamped a hand over your mouth to stop the fit of laughter you felt rising.

“¡Oye! Are you even listening?!” Miguel hissed at Jessica, pointing towards the doors. Genuinely, you admired her patience, as she didn’t even flinch. Giving you a look that clearly meant “good luck”, your best friend gently patted you on the back before taking her leave. You stared until her figure disappeared behind the automatic doors, and then you became all too aware that you and Miguel were alone. The air in the room grew tense as you attempted to quell the irritation rising within you.

Once you turned back to look up at Miguel, he was running his fingers through his hair, pushing it back in somewhat of a stressed manner as he was fixated on another screen. Without sparing you another glance, he spoke up again, the words barely even louder than the quiet buzz of the hologram projectors. “The Rapture. Get up here,” he muttered, slowly pacing back and forth on his levitated platform.

Tucking the box securely in your (thankfully) deep pockets, you made sure to secure it tightly, the contents too delicate to leave dangling so carelessly. Mentally preparing yourself for the incoming 5 minutes you had to spend with Miguel, you flung your wrist towards the edge of his platform, a silky web instantly connecting the two. Pulling on the tensile web, you gave yourself enough momentum to fling yourself up onto it, landing opposite to where he was standing—one of your more graceful landings.

His back was still turned to you as you pulled the box out of your pocket, carefully extracting the syringe with your latest creation. Staring down at it proudly, you stood on your feet and cautiously approached Miguel. “Worked on this one during vacation,” you said, not necessarily caring if he had anything to say about it. “Think it’s my best one yet.”

Miguel’s shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep exhale, intent on reading the details of his upcoming mission. “It better be,” was all he muttered, holographic nature of his suit fading away in a patch on his left shoulder, his usual injection site. Placing your right hand tentatively against his shoulder blade, you held the syringe up to his skin, ready to administer until you noticed something. You gently pressed a finger against his skin, and it was almost as if the muscle was made of rocks.

“You need to relax your shoulder, boss,” you remarked, your focus beginning to trail across the expanse of his back. It almost seemed to ripple constantly from how tense they were. Usually, this process was the easy part, and you both had done this dozens of times.

“Yep. Got it.” A muscle in his neck flexed slightly.

“Is something bothering you?” you asked cautiously, observing his odd behavior. Seriously, him too? What was up with everyone today?

“ Mierda , just get on with it,” he grumbled, an obvious strain in his tone.

“If you say so,” you whispered, injecting the green liquid into his system. Once again, it was different. A sharp inhale escaped his lips as he winced; you caught a glimpse of his eyes flashing a bright red in the reflection of his monitors. The eyes were normal, it happened every time. But it never caused him discomfort before. Concern was etched across your features as you took a step back, your eyes scanning over his body.

“Seriously, Miguel. Is there something I should know?” you asked with a huff, placing a hand on his other shoulder to turn him around. However, when you were finally able to his expression for the first time, it was nothing like you had ever expected. His eyes were clouded over as they locked onto yours, a rawness in his gaze that made you shudder. His jaw was clenched, muscles taut, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed deeply. You even noticed the cadence of his exhales, each one sounding as if he was barely in control. Was this an adverse reaction to the Rapture? Uneasiness began to settle into your skin. Was this your fault? You worriedly placed a hand against his forehead to feel his temperature, now noticing the sweat that had begun to dot across his forehead.

He wasn’t even stopping you or making any snide remarks. Something was definitely wrong.

“Lyla?” you called out into the void of his office as you retracted your hand. “Show me his vitals.”

“No, Lyla, don’t even think about it,” Miguel objected through gritted teeth. You both were only greeted by Lyla’s familiar giggle as a hologram screen materialized behind Miguel, displaying his various vitals.

“You’re supposed to work for me ,” he grunted.

“Misclick! Oops, gotta go-” Lyla taunted, the sound of her program shutting off following. You swore you heard him mutter “chinga tu madre” under his breath.

As you read through the different stats, you only seemed to confuse yourself more. His body temperature was slightly elevated, but nowhere close to a fever. No production of histamines, so no allergies. Nothing from the injection seemed to affect any aspect of his body. His heart rate, however, was through the roof. Surely Spider-people don’t get heart attacks, right? You were about to instruct Lyla until a certain statement in his vital report caught your eye.

Elevated levels of oxytocin present.

Those words seemed to knock the wind right out of your stomach, struggling to find the words to say as you froze in place. Was there something you missed when you were gone? Miguel just suddenly had a thing for you? Racking your brain, you tried to think of any way this could have developed. Maybe distance does make the heart grow fonder. Would you be disrespecting yourself if this was fine with you?

Suddenly, images of your time with him began to pop up in your mind, but they were now corrupted. You thought of the way his quadriceps flexed as he carried boxes into your new office, the hitch of his breath every time you gave him a new injection, and simply how large he was in comparison to you. Your free hand began to fidget with the hem of your shirt, letting your gaze fall anywhere but him. You were certain your cheeks looked like they had been pinched. The both of you stood there, unsure of what to do, an awkward silence engulfing the room.

As if unable to endure this situation any longer, Miguel muttered a curse under his breath before he moved swiftly, hopping down from the platform. He seemed eager to escape his office, which was strange; this was where he usually holed up before and after missions. The sound of his footsteps rang in your ears, finalizing the fact that you were now standing alone, your mind a whirlwind of chaos. But with each step he took, the more you felt your heartbeat in your ears, the steady rhythm urging you to follow him. To demand one ounce of clarity from him. He couldn’t just leave you here.

“Miguel, wait,” you called out, shooting a web to the floor and flinging yourself after him. Once you had landed, you kept pursuing him, but he quickened his pace. Your mind flashed back to when he had chased you through Central Park, and a smile snuck its way onto your lips. It only made you even more relentless, your gait quickening.

Once you were close enough to him, you reached out, your hand gently tapping the broadness that was his back, a silent plea for him to acknowledge what had just been uncovered between the both of you. After receiving no response, you sighed in exasperation. “Miguel, please,” you implored. “Could you tell me-”

Miguel pivoted abruptly, the intensity in his gaze disorienting as you felt him tightly grip your wrist. Despite not having done much, his breaths were almost ragged. His eyes were glazed over, dropping down from yours just for a moment, stealing a glance at your body before returning it to a respectable place.

“What the hell are you doing to me?” he grunted through his teeth, his voice low as it wavered with a hint of vulnerability. Despite his efforts to keep it down, the question echoed throughout the confines of his empty office.

As you tried to wiggle your wrist away, you realized it would be a waste of effort to try, so you let him. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stared up at him with wide eyes. You knew for a fact that he could feel your heartbeat with the way he was gripping it, and you were certain it beat like a rabbit’s. Hopelessly caught off guard, you stammered, “I…I don’t know. It isn’t the Rapture, I promise, I did every-”

“Don’t you give me that,” he cut you off, his words seeming to slice through whatever resolve you had left. “I know it’s not the damn Rapture. It’s you. I know it’s you. You’re in my head.”

The admission hung in the air between you two, another thing that only seemed to confuse you further that day. Miguel’s eyes bore into yours, its murky depths desperately searching yours for any answers. But he was only greeted by ones who were as clueless as he was. As he stared down at your wrist that was so easily enveloped by his hand, it seemed to spur him on. Impulsively, Miguel gripped you by your frame and whirled you around, pushing you against the metallic wall, his arms forming a cage around you.

You felt like you were caught in the eye of the storm of emotions that were building up inside him. You were utterly dwarfed by his figure. Sure, you always knew that he was tall, but you never had been this up close and personal before. As you glanced over at the arms that had caged you in like an animal, you fought the urge to run your hand over the ripple of his biceps that were almost staring at you right in the face. Realizing you were definitely focusing on the wrong thing, your eyes met his once again, each time becoming more difficult than the last. Whatever he had to say, you had no choice but to hear it.

“I can’t control it,” he continued, the words escaping like a reluctant exhale. That part was obvious enough. “The moment you stepped into HQ, every damn thought is you. Coño , I can’t even read one sentence of the mission brief with you right behind me. I’m doing things before I even think. I want to hate it.”

The weight of his words settled over you, sinking deep into your skin as you felt yourself burn up again. His sudden infatuation made you realize all the flirty comments and gentlemanly gestures that had been following you all morning. Sure, it was similar, but none of them seemed to be affected more than Miguel. What was it? Swallowing thickly, you mustered the courage to speak, to test the waters. “But you…don’t hate it?” you breathed, your chest seizing with regret as soon as the words left your lips.

Miguel’s brows furrowed, and you had trouble discerning what emotion was causing it. “I don’t,” he choked out, his voice dropping to a whisper. “So fix it.” “What?” His demand hung in the air, a fervent and pleading demand. “I said, fix it,” he insisted, his words taking on a rougher tone. One of his hands slid down from the wall, and he poked accusingly at your chest, just at the top of your sternum. “Whatever you’re doing, fix it,” he persisted, his voice akin to a low growl that sent pleasurable tingles down your spine. “Or I will.” “I don’t know how,” you shamefully admitted, your words laced with sincerity. Your eyes were blown wide upon seeing how intense he was up close, you could hear his labored breaths. The silence that followed your answer lingered between the both of you, both searching each other’s expressions just for one hint, a clue as to how to proceed from that moment. Miguel had always made the decisions, not you, and seeing him at a total loss for words had also stumped you. “I– um, you said that it was when I arrived, right?” you sputtered out, desperate to say anything to ease the heavy tension that was beginning to crush the both of you. Your eyes tried to lock on anywhere that wasn’t Miguel, but it proved difficult when his figure loomed over you. “I can just, uh…go home? Yeah! I can go back home for the day, and I–” And then, with a suddenness that left you without your words, Miguel’s hands retracted from the walls at your sides, cupping your face. Without letting another beat of your heart pass, he surged forward, all too quickly, then his lips were on yours.

At first, your mind tried to make sense of what was happening. This was Miguel O’Hara, your boss, and a rude one at that. The same guy who always scolded you for the smallest of reasons. Not only would it be inappropriate to continue, but a blow to your self-respect. Yet, in the moment that followed, you felt his tongue gently graze against your bottom lip, and all logic seemed to dissolve and wash away, surrendering to his kiss. You should have been embarrassed that you had to reach up so far to wrap your arms around his neck, but he hunched over to make it easier on you.

He seemed to have been waiting for any sort of response from you. His hands moved with purpose, falling from your face to claw at your body, exploring the curves of your back as if he wanted to burn every detail to his memory. The fevered kiss he gave you ceased for a moment, a curse just barely able to escape from his lips before he began to bury his head into your shoulder. He began to leave openmouthed kisses to the smooth, delicate skin of your neck, his canines gently prodding at the skin. The sting seemed to tease you, to ask you how far you were willing to let him go.

“So you are a vampire,” you remarked breathlessly, whining softly at each slow, tantalizing kiss.

You aren’t able to see it, but you feel the way his lips curve up into a smirk against you. The laugh that followed was mind-bogglingly euphoric, the vibrations rippling against the expanse of your neck so deliciously that the heat building between your legs became nearly impossible to ignore. Your hands trail down from his shoulders and smooth over his chest, an action that you found to elicit the prettiest sounds from your boss. You didn’t even know he was capable of such a thing. You wanted to know what else he was capable of.

“You want it here?” you asked, your hands gently pushing against his chest in an attempt to make him pay attention to your words. But it was like he couldn’t pry himself from you. You were given a mere grunt in response, and you felt his calloused hand hold the back of your neck, stroking your nape tenderly. With his face still buried against your skin, he inhaled the scent of you deeply. That alone seemed to make his yearning nature worse, his words barely escaping past the low whine that resonated in his throat.

“Wherever I can fucking have you,” Miguel said as he grasped you, hands cupping just beneath your jaw as his thumbs smoothed over your cheeks. The way he looked at you, half-lidded, pleading, and absolutely drunk off of your body, sent your mind reeling and melted your limbs as you pushed yourself into him. Your eyes darted around for a suitable place, but Miguel’s office wasn’t necessarily 5 stars when it came to comfort. Raising your head, your gaze locked onto the platform you both were just on. Meekly, you point up towards it, unsure if he would satisfy your request. His head followed as you reached out, and he vaguely scoffed.

You were about to suggest another place until his strong arm secured its way around your waist, and suddenly, you were being hoisted into the air alongside your boss. A yelp escaped your throat out of shock, desperately gripping onto Miguel’s body despite knowing you wouldn’t fall. The gesture made him chuckle in a way you had never heard before, the sound hearty and resounding deeply in his chest. And it seemed to drug you and fill your veins with such an unyielding desire; it made you wonder how something so simple as a laugh further fueled this indecorous addiction to him.

Before you even knew it, you were seated in the middle of the platform with him kneeling beside you. As you stared up at him, you were unsure of what to do. But it was like he had read your mind, resulting in a roll of his eyes and his sarcastic nature making a brief return.

“You planning to just sit there?” Miguel huffed as he dragged you closer to him. “Lay down.” His tone is so enticingly irrefutable, so you comply, your back hitting the platform, the cold metal making you shudder. You stared up at him, curious as to how he was going to do this.

Slotting himself in between your legs, his fingers desperately tugged at the waistband of your pants before doing away with them entirely, barely noticing that he had taken your underwear with it. He marveled at what he had revealed, carefully tugging your legs apart as if he wanted to worship it further. His eyes flicked up to your face for just a painstaking moment, and it was hot from anticipation, worsening as he hovered between your legs, pressing kisses along your inner thighs.

“You want this?” he murmurs, his words deep and gravelly. You eagerly nod, fighting the urge to shiver from the coldness that overtook your lower half.

Suddenly, you didn’t have to worry much about the cold the moment you felt his warm breath graze you in just the right way. He pressed a wet, languid kiss to your heat, the saliva his tongue was slathering you with mingling with the arousal that began to pool. You were amazed at how effortlessly his ministrations manipulated your body, your chest rising and falling rapidly with each pleasured exhale. When did he have the time to be so good at this sort of thing?

Soon, you were introduced to his fingers, so lengthy and thick that they had your eyes rolling into the back of your head as they plunged inside you. Each call of his name seemed to spur him on, increasing his tempo and the lewd, obscene noises that echoed across his office. Before you even knew it, all of it was too much; the subtle curling and pumping of his girthy fingers, the flick of his tongue; it was like a wave had crashed over you, sending your thighs into convulsions. He slowed his movements as each thrust of his fingers grew more wet, easing you down from your high. The delicate touches lasted for a mere second before you were flipped over, your hips being dragged back as you felt your behind press against the outline of the stiff, rock-hard muscle at his crotch, a testament to how much he had been craving you.

What followed was a sweetly painful, visceral blur. You had heard the sound of his holographic suit retracting itself, and you turned your head, curious as to what you’d see. He smiled smugly at your doe-eyed expression upon seeing his goods, and the only thing occupying your mind was if he could fit at all. It wasn’t like you weren’t expecting it, he was a behemoth of a man after all. But seeing it up close, anticipating its entry was an entirely different beast.

But Miguel was experienced, having dutifully prepared you to take him, making it a more easy experience as his tip prodded your entrance gently, slowly easing himself in. The stretch was undeniably painful, your fingers clutching at the floor, desperately looking for something to hold onto. But as he pushed in further, the feeling transformed into a euphoric ache. He had been trying his best to remain silent to not attract any attention from the outside, but your name managed to fall from his mouth in a hoarse groan, harmonizing with the pathetic whines that you had been letting out. His hands pinned your wrists against the floor, the freezing nature of the floor beneath you contrasting with the heat that bounced between your bodies.

His vigorous pace slightly rocked the platform beneath you, threatening to tip over if Miguel had a mind to get rougher. However, he seemed to know his limits, effortlessly filling you up in a way that could satisfy you for lifetimes. Crude phrases left your swollen lips, each one a way to praise the man that was fucking you like his next mission was his last. The sound of your skin colliding with him was growing filthier with each second, more carnal. For a fleeting second, your mind filled with worry, anxious about anybody that could have been waiting outside his office. Anyone who stood within a 5-yard radius from the entrance could hear just about anything that was going on inside. But his fingers then came up to slither their way into the roots of your hair, yanking your head back far enough so he could whisper in your ear. “Keep talking, say you want me. Say it.”

And soon enough, you were begging for him, arms shaking as you struggled to hold yourself up as ripples of your orgasm traveled throughout your body, your slick absolutely drenching the both of you. Your pleas were what had done him in, his rhythm stuttering and his length pulsing inside you, unsheathing himself as he emptied himself all over your ass, the viscous liquid dripping slowly down its curve. For a moment, the both of you stayed where you were, worn-out breaths being the only thing you both could exchange as you tried to wrap your head around what you had done.

Surprisingly, Miguel had a thought for aftercare. He had retrieved a gym towel and cleaned you up, wiping away his release and your sweat as best as he could. “Still think you have to shower, though,” he commented, the smug undertone in his voice not going unnoticed.

“Back at you,” you quipped, though the smile never left your face as you redressed yourself.

You never thought you would have to try to sneak your way out of Miguel’s office, but considering how disheveled you were after your tryst with him, it was the only way to keep your dignity intact. The air outside was cooler, freezing against your skin that still burned with the residual warmth of his hands all over you. You shuddered. You definitely needed a cold shower.

After grabbing your spare clothes from your office, you found yourself in the ladies’ room. Stripping off your sweat-ridden clothes (you had a mind to scold him for not taking them off), you hopped into one of the showers and slid the privacy curtain shut behind you. The warm water was comforting, easily washing away the feeling of sex away from your body, but what remained emotionally was unexpected. The thought of seeing him again.

A nervous energy gnawed at your heart as you mindlessly lathered soap all over your body. The both of you just had a steamy hookup, but what would happen now? Your insides seemed to twist as you remembered the fact that seeing him at the end of the day was inevitable. The water from your showerhead seemed to pelt down at your skin now, creating an atmosphere perfect for overthinking. Was it a one time thing? Did he want more? Did he like you? Would he fire you? Thankfully, Miguel was due for a mission today, so you wouldn’t have to worry about seeing him before your scheduled time. That would give you enough space to cool your head.

“Relax,” you told yourself, barely able to hear your thoughts over the pitter-patter of water droplets around you. “You just screwed your boss. Tough it out. Forget about it. Act like it didn’t happen.”

However, the memory of his hands tracing the contours of your back seemed to follow you like a ghost, sending shivers down your spine no matter how much you cranked up the heat of your shower.

–

Enclosed in the white, sterile walled haven that was your lab, you buried yourself in work, hoping that the hum of calibration machines and the countless lab tests were enough to get your mind off of your tumultuous morning. You decided that it wasn’t enough, sliding your headphones over your ears and blasting your favorite playlist on repeat just so you wouldn’t have to hear your inner turmoil.

And it worked, the hours effortlessly passing by in a blur. Holographic displays and paperwork filled your visions, the very tasks you used to complain about becoming a solace on your first day back at your lab. You didn’t expect to get much done considering the crowd you had easily amassed earlier that morning, but strangely, that stopped, and you were thankful. Your usual visitors came in: Gwen, a few Peters, and even Hobie, who apologized profusely for how much of a “halfwit” he was being earlier, all while simultaneously swearing that you would never tell another soul. You agreed, stifling a laugh, knowing you could never be upset with him. Despite feeling confused for what had seemed like the millionth time that day, things seemed to be falling back into place, and it would have been comforting if it hadn’t been for one thing. You couldn’t exactly unfuck your boss. You chastised yourself quietly for thinking about it again; you were doing so well.

Once again, he was consuming your mind to the point where you couldn’t set your mind straight as you tried to come up with a new substance for one of your Spiderwoman clients. She had asked for a chemical that could help her easily attract and control actual spiders in her vicinity. You had a vague idea of how to bring her idea to life, with cetyl acetate sitting in one of your beakers, but you couldn’t quite remember the other component no matter how hard you racked your brain.

You retraced your steps, checking and double-checking the labels of the countless chemicals that sat preciously in your lab. You felt frustration coil up within you as you consulted your reference binder, embarrassed that you even had to look such a simple thing up. By the time you had located the constituent, many a Spider had begun to leave, the chatter outside of your lab winding to a hush. After squeezing a few drops of farnesyl acetate into your beaker, you gave the substances a quick mix, noting how nice it smelt. And how familiar.

Everything building up in you had left you seeking refuge in your dainty office that sat in the corner of the lab. As you closed the door behind you, temporary relief washed over you, and it was then that you decided it would be best if you went home for the day. Retrieving your bag, you sighed as you sank into your chair, weariness finally settling in after hours of constant work. Fishing around your bag for your office key, your fingers brushed against a jar-shaped object. You brought along Lyla’s gift for retouching throughout the day, but it slipped your mind amidst the chaos of the day. Hoping the vanilla scent would ease your thoughts, you unscrewed the cap with purpose, hoping it would ease the tension in your skin.

Just as you were about to apply, the sound of the entrance doors hissing open disrupted your serenity. Ready to tell off whoever was disturbing your peace, you set down the jar, twisted the doorknob open, and stormed out of your office, only to be frozen in place as you were greeted by the one and only Miguel, his expression uncharacteristically sheepish. A new cut adorned his face, already in the process of regeneration as it had already scarred over. Different parts of his holosuit were damaged, leaving behind a glitch-like static; were those claw marks? He definitely had a rougher day than you.

Clearing your throat, you spoke up. “You alright? That looks like it hurt,” you remarked, tentative as you were unsure what the conversation would lead to.

Miguel simply shrugged, his eyes unable to find yours. “I, uh…the anomaly was more intense than I thought. Was a bit distracted, got roughed up,” he said, his voice a rare mix of honesty and humility.

Your brows furrowed together in sympathy despite the unspoken words between the two of you. “Did you need me to whip something up for you?” you offered, moving towards your box of plastic gloves.

It was only then that he looked up at you, his hand coming up, gesturing for you to stop in protest. “No! No, it’s okay. I’ll live.” He met your eyes, and you immediately knew that he was just as unsure as you were, the uncertainty giving way to a hint of vulnerability.

After a hesitant pause, Miguel finally spoke, the moment you were waiting for finally happening. “Look, about earlier…I’m sorry,” his words stumbling out. “It was unexpected.”

Although you had anticipated this answer, you couldn’t help but deflate upon actually hearing it. You weren’t expecting him to fall on his knees and ask for your hand, but you would’ve at least liked to hear him say that he enjoyed it. “You’re sorry? Would you rather have not done it all?” you accused, much to his chagrin.

“I– no, carajo , that’s not what I meant at all,” he sighed in irritation, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, it’s just…it caught us off guard. I’m not sorry it happened, I’m sorry that it was just…sudden, that’s all,” he huffed, not wanting to get into it with you.

For a moment, you pondered over his words. So he wasn’t opposed to sleeping with you. With impulsive thoughts bubbling up inside you, you were prodded to take the leap again. “Would you do it again?” you asked genuinely, an offer to him.

Miguel’s eyes widened in surprise, an exhale of relief shortly following, a chuckle mingled with his words. “Yeah, I’d do it again,” he answered, moving to step closer to you, and you didn’t mind. Just as it seemed as if he was about to sweep you into his arms again, he stopped in his tracks, his head turning to your lab bench as he fixated on the beaker, the one that was carrying your latest project.

Initially, you thought that Miguel was some sort of a stickler for cleanliness, so you felt embarrassed, reaching for your disposable gloves once again. “Oops, I’ll just put that away–”

“No,” he ordered with a familiar intensity in your voice, making you retract back to your original spot. He inched closer to the workbench, nostrils flaring as he sniffed at the mixture in the fragile glass. “What is that? Tell me,” he demanded, the urgency in his voice increasing tenfold.

Although you were weirded out by how much this seemed to matter to him, you answered earnestly. “Some…strange project one of the Spiderwomen wanted me to work on. Something to attract spiders, but just the males to prevent them from fighting. Synthetic pheromones, essentially.”

“Huh. Smells like how you did this morning,” he remarked almost immediately, raising a brow in confusion.

You stood there, utterly winded by his words, unsure of what to say. Was he saying this figuratively to flirt with you? But judging from the look in his eyes, he was deadly serious. As your eyes locked onto the concoction that you had made that morning, your mind went to the jar that was sitting on your desk, opened. Without another word, you rushed to your office, taking the jar of body butter and inhaling its aroma deeply. You felt your heart drop to your stomach in terror, the scents were strikingly similar. Turning the jar around in your hands with haste, your eyes scanned for the list of ingredients, silently praying you weren’t rubbing what you thought you were rubbing into your skin.

As you searched, you felt Miguel’s presence right behind you, leaning over your shoulder as he examined the jar with you, inexplicably drawn to it. “What’s that?” he inquired, the strain in his voice from before making a return.

“The lotion I put on this morning,” you said dreadfully, turning your head to look up at him sheepishly. Still confused, he met your gaze only for a moment before he searched through the neverending list of ingredients.

“What did you put in that beaker?”

“Farnesyl acetate and hexadecyl acetate. If it doesn’t say hexadecyl, try cetyl.”

After a minute of searching, Miguel hunched over you to point at a specific spot on the jar. Following his finger, you sighed, laying your eyes on the very thing you didn’t want to see.

“So…” you began awkwardly, unable to wrap your mind around the information bouncing around in your brain. It started to connect like dots: how you attracted the Spidermen in the morning by the dozen, Jessica’s remark about you smelling like a “woman”, Miguel’s sudden lust for you. Then the notable absence of your eager Spider-crowd after your shower. “As your head chemist, I can conclude that spider pheromones can work on…us.”

“Evidently,” Miguel responded, visibly dumbfounded. Seeming eager to prevent more chaos from occurring, he took the jar and its lid from your hands, screwing the lid tightly shut before placing it on your desk carefully. “Where’d you even get something like that?”

“I didn’t. Lyla got it for me,” you confessed. Your mind went to that mischievous hologram. Did she know? Was this a clever attempt to kickstart something between you and Miguel?

“Lyla, that minx...” Miguel trailed off, and you caught a glimpse of his eyes rolling before he squeezed them shut, pinching his nose bridge in an attempt to quell what presumably was a string of curses toward his assistant. Immediately, he swiftly turned around, muttering quietly to himself as he made his way towards his exit. “I ought to give her a piece of my mind…”

You stared after him, about to leave him to his own devices before a thought crossed your mind. You remembered Miguel’s biology, the very thing that made him Spiderman in the first place: his DNA was spliced with one of a spider, effectively making him 50% arachnid. The pheromones you had been unknowingly emitting would affect him more than anyone else, and it proved to be true. An uneasiness settled into your stomach, was that the only reason why he wanted you?

“Wait,” you called after him, your voice betraying your attempted nonchalance. Miguel paused at the doorway, leaning against it as he turned to look at you with an arched brow. His eyes silently asked you to proceed.

“Is it… just the pheromones?” you asked, feeling your stomach twist and turn into knots as you awaited his reply. “You know, about everything, uh, earlier.”

Miguel pushed himself off of the door. “Well, it definitely gave me the push I needed,” he admitted, sauntering over to you with a grin so smug you wanted to smack it off his face. “But, if we’re being honest, I would’ve done it eventually.”

You blinked, processing his words.”You mean that? But you’re kinda mean.”

He sighed loudly, stopping just in front of you. “Idiot. Yes, I mean it,” he muttered, leaning down to cup your cheeks in his hands, his face levelling with yours. “You drive me crazy.”

And the kiss that Miguel left on your lips afterward was more gentle than the hungry, needy one he gave you before, dispelling any doubts you had about the true nature of his feelings. His lips were like heaven, slightly chapped from the labor of his mission from earlier, but you didn’t care. When he pulled away, there was a soft playfulness in his eyes you had never seen before.

“You got it?” he teased, his thumb smoothing over your cheek.

You managed a nod, resulting in Miguel gently patting your cheek before releasing you and turning to leave, still insistent that he give Lyla a piece of his mind. Giggling at his antics, you were about to grab your things to leave until you saw his head pop in the entrance once more. “Yes?” you called out.

“Bottle that thing up and label it as a hazard,” he ordered in response, pointing toward the open beaker on the bench. “It’s damn near chemical warfare,” he mumbled before disappearing again.

“Yes, boss,” you complied, unable to fight the grin that was now plastered to your face. As you bottled up your concoction, you made a mental note to thank Lyla. Again.

originally posted on ao3! first fic i'm ever posting on tumblr and i'm so excited! feedback and suggestions for more stories are more than welcome!

#miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #atsv #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara smut #fem!reader #miguel o'hara x reader smut #spiderman 2099 #oneshot #miguel o'hara oneshot #spiderman oneshot

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sunflower-lilac42 · 4 months

Text

✧ 𝐃𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 | luke hughes ♔

summary: y/n zegras was never known to be a party animal, but when her friends come to visit her during the summer, things get a little out of hand

warnings: drunk reader, drinking, crying, getting injured, throwing up

notes: i can't believe how fast i wrote this, but no complaints, unless it sucks then i apologize. thank you to my anon who helped with this because i absolutely loved every minute of writing it. also this would've been out an hour ago but i got hungry so i made dinner :)

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This was a bad idea, a horrible idea. She knew she shouldn’t have gone out with them in the first place, but y/n was a people pleaser and caved quickly. Saying goodbye to her friends at the lake house she headed out with her friends to whatever party they wanted her to go to.

It also never took much for her to get drunk, she could hold and handle her liquor that wasn’t the problem, but she was a lightweight, which made this night all the worse. Two drinks in, the ones forced by her friends, were all it took for her to go back willingly for more. Three drinks after that she was absolutely hammered.

She knew she should go home and she did. And as she started walking out of the party, her friend grabbed ahold of her, “Where are you going?!”

“I should get home.”

“It’s only-” Her friend’s words were slurred, checking her watch, “Midnight. Just say for a little while longer.”

Y/n being the person that she was nodded and went back to dancing with her friends. An hour or two later she felt sick and put her foot down with her friends, saying that she was leaving. The three others nodded and let her go, the girl walking outside and stumbling down the street.

She tripped not long after that, her knees scraping on the ground. She was overly emotional from drinking and instantly teared up, followed by throwing up in a nearby trash can. She dug around in her purse for her phone and turned it on, immediately going to call her boyfriend.

However, just as her finger was about to hit the call button she paused, thinking about how she didn’t want Luke to see how she looked right now. They had known each other since they were little, yet only started recently dating. She had no desire for him seeing how she looked right now.

Swiping out of Luke’s contact she went to find Trevor’s, calling him instantly.

“Y/n/n? Where are you?”

“Trev.” Her voice was littered with emotion, Trevor could hear the waver and tears in her voice.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I think I had-” She hiccuped and sniffled, “A little too much to drink and I-I hurt myself.” Tears were streaming down her face as she spoke, lifting her hand to wipe her cheeks off.

Grabbing his keys from his nightstand he stood quickly, “Okay, do you want Luke to come with?”

“No, no, no, no-”

“Okay, I won’t ask him. How about Jacky and Cole?” She nodded and whimpered a ‘yes’ and Trevor was knocking on their doors within seconds.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Jack stood against the doorframe looking at his best friends, “Y/n’s hurt.”

“What?” Luke stood at the end of the hallway, looking between his brother and his brother’s friends.

Trevor’s eyes widened, “Hey Lukey.”

“Y/n’s hurt?”

He nodded and told Jack and Cole to put their shoes on, “Can I come?”

“I asked her and she said no.”

“What? Why? Let me talk to her!” Trevor put his phone out of reach for the youngest Hughes not to grab it.

“She doesn't want you to come and I think you should respect that Luke.”

“But she- she’s- she just said she was hurt.”

Tears flooded the boy’s eyes and Trevor looked conflicted, looking between his phone and Luke. Luckily, Jack walked out of his room and placed his arms around his brother, “I’m sure she’s okay. We’ll go get her and bring her back.”

“You guys are going? Why do they get to go?”

“Because she wanted them to.”

“Trevor?” Y/n’s voice is heard from his phone where he accidentally put her on speaker.

No one paid any mind to it, “That’s such bullshit.”

“Luke! She’s scared and drunk and probably just needs what is most familiar and comfortable to her, which is the three of us.” Cole tried to reason with the younger boy, but nothing was getting through to him.

“We’ve been friends for almost as long as you guys have been and we're dating, why wouldn’t she trust me?!”

“She does trust you, Luke. But you two are also just getting into a rhythm of dating and maybe she doesn’t want you to see her like this. And before you say anything, she knows you won’t care but she's not thinking straight. Why don’t you go sit with Quinn until we get home and we’ll let you know, okay?”

“Whatever.” He stormed off into his room, the other three rolling their eyes and rushing out to who's ever car was first.

“We’ll be there soon, y/n/n, okay?” Cole asked, taking the phone from his friend.

She nodded and listened to Cole talk to her as they drove to where she sat on the curb, hoping no one would come up to her.

Luckily, no one did and the three rushed out of the car and to her side.

“Are you okay?”

“I think so, I just got a little nervous.”

Trevor kneeled in front of her as Jack and Cole wrapped one of their arms around her at each of her sides. Placing his hands on her knees, Trevor spoke, “How many drinks did you have?”

By now, she was able to talk without slurring her words, her mind being able to think more clearly. She held five fingers up and looked down shamefully.

Jack chuckled, “You know you can’t drink that much.”

Still emotional, her eyes held tears again in her eyes, “I know, I know. I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad?”

“Hey, no one’s mad, we just want you to be more careful. Let’s fix up your knees and then we’ll go home.” Trevor went back to the car to grab the first aid kit that Cole had thrown in there.

“Where are your friends?” Cole took off his jacket and placed it around the girl, “They wanted to stay longer. I didn’t want them to have to leave because of me.”

Placing a kiss on her head, Cole chuckled, “You and your people-pleaser tendencies.”

“Hey don’t make fun of me.” She held a pout on her face and Jack laughed as well, “We could never.”

She laughed as well and Trevor cheered placing the last band-aid on her knee, “Yay, we got a smile! You ready to go home?”

She nodded and the three helped her up, Jack happily driving home so she could sit with her brother in the back. She easily laid against Trevor, placing her feet in Cole’s lap.

“Is Luke mad at me?”

The three looked at each other, Jack glancing in the rearview mirror, “No, just a little upset.”

“I heard him over the phone.”

Trevor sighed and moved the hair that was crowding over her face out of the way, “He just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“He sounded really frustrated.”

“He’s just worried.”

Moments passed in silence before y/n spoke again, “You were right you know?”

The boys furrowed their eyebrows, “Who?”

“Jack.”

“I didn’t even do anything,” Jack claimed, his voice going higher.

“When you were talking to Luke.”

She flipped over so she was lying on her left side, looking through the rearview mirror so she could see Jack, tracing shapes on the floor of the car, “You said that I didn’t want him to see me like this, you were right.”

“He loves you, you know? He wouldn’t have cared.”

“I know, but there was just something, I don’t know. Scary about it. We’ve been friends for so long and I just didn’t want him to see me mess up as his girlfriend and end it.”

To, y/n, Luke seeing her drunk and emotional as friends was different than him seeing her drunk when they were dating. Sure there were plenty of times Luke had seen her drunk before, but now, it was almost as if she was afraid of him judging her more than before.

Cole nodded his head, “I can see that. But at the same time, y/n/n, some of the things you can say are different from when you were friends, yet not really now that you’re dating. This for example, except Luke is allowed to show his worry more.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For always being there for me.” She drifted off to sleep and the three boys looked at each other and smiled.

✧༺✎༻∞

“Wakey, wakey.”

“No.” Y/n groaned, feeling more of the effects of the alcohol she consumed.

“Come on, you’re going to give Luke a heart attack soon.”

“But I’m tired. And you’re fucking loud.”

“Only the best for you, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that, only Luke can call me that.”

“Oh sure, I’ve been calling you that since third grade but when my brother comes along, he gets priority.”

“Shut it.”

“I can just leave you out here.”

“No! I love you, I’m sorry, you can call me whatever you want just take me inside, please.”

“Alright lil Z, let’s go.”

“Anything but that. I don’t want to be associated with that one.” She pointed to her right where Cole was standing.

“One, ow, that was rude and two, I’m over here dipshit.”

“I’m telling, Mom.”

“Then I’ll tell her you got drunk.”

“I’m 21, I can get drunk if I want to.”

“Then I’ll tell her you got drunk freshman year of college.”

“Fine. Truce, all of you.”

The three nodded and shook her hand, taking her inside. As soon as the front door unlocked and opened, Luke stood up from his place on the couch and rushed over to the door, “Lukey!”

Luke caught his girlfriend in his embrace, wrapping his arms around her torso, “Hey. You okay?”

“I had a little too much to drink.” She giggled wrapping her hands around his neck.

“Have fun bro.” The three walked off, Trevor patting him on the shoulder, to their rooms, leaving the couple behind.

“You want to go lay down?”

“Yes please.” Luke picked her up, her legs unconsciously wrapping around Luke’s waist.

He carried her with ease to his room, placing her on the bed, “What do you want to wear?”

“Your clothes.” Luke chuckled and went to grab some clothes for her, helping her get changed.

The two got comfortable in his bed, y/n wrapping herself in the blanket and snuggling up next to Luke,

“I’m sorry for not wanting you to come, I was just nervous about how you would-”

“Hey, let’s talk about this tomorrow, okay? I’m just glad you weren’t severely hurt.” He kissed her forehead and tightened his hold on her.

She nodded, drifting off to sleep, smiling to herself.

✧༺✎༻∞

✎ BONUS ⇘ : :

Luke woke up around eight and took a look around his room, y/n was nowhere to be found, “Babe?”

He got up and trekked downstairs to see his brothers Trevor and Cole in the kitchen, “Have you guys seen y/n?”

The four looked at each other, then at Luke, trying not to laugh, “Bathroom.”

“Hey! I’m out of the bathroom, thank you very much.”

“After spending thirty minutes in there.” Jack retorted coming around the side and sitting next to her, kissing her on the head, “But we love you.”

“Do you though?”

“No.”

“Hey stop being mean to my girlfriend!” Luke pulled the girl away from his brother and into his lap.

“Get your hands off my sister.”

“Never.” Trevor gagged and went back to pouring the orange juice into the glasses.

“Cole’s the only one that was nice to me last night.”

“That’s so not true. You got mad at me for calling you sweetheart.”

“I did?”

“Mhm, you were all like ‘Luke’s the only one that can call me that.’ and ‘Luke this’ or ‘Luke that’.”

Y/n blushed, hiding her face in her boyfriend’s chest, “Awe, you love me.”

“You wish, Hughes. I love Cole and Quinn. You three are jerks.”

𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

if your name is crossed out it means i couldn't tag you

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ozzgin · 5 months

Note

Do you only write Hannibal lecter or do you also write for NBC Hannibal?

Yandere! Hannibal x Reader: The Grand Meal

Gather around for a short story in the spirit of Thanksgiving. You have been invited by Hannibal Lecter to a celebratory dinner, although unexpectedly barren of other guests. He will be entertaining you this evening, carefully describing each dish as he battles his own inner turmoil. (For extra immersion, I suggest listening to Bach's 'Sheep May Safely Graze')

Warning: Cannibalism and detailed gore. I'd advise against reading if you're squeamish.

[Horror Masterlist]

He politely aids you in removing your coat, folds it over his forearm, and steps aside, expectantly. You glance at him, somewhat confused.

"Your bag, if I may."

"Oh, I...I was planning to bring it with me. I have my phone in it and all the essentials." you stutter, unsure.

Uh huh. Your etiquette seems to be lacking in certain areas. Nothing that cannot be chiseled.

"You won't be needing it, I assure you." he extends his hand out, waiting.

You hesitantly place the dark leather Pochette into his fingers. Hannibal has always been rather particular when it comes to decorum. You wouldn't want to upset him, especially given his generous invite to his Thanksgiving celebration. He'd heard your complaint of being alone during the holidays and he encouraged you to join him instead.

As you hurry behind him down the spacious hallway, you quietly marvel at the expensive, tasteful paintings sporadically adorning the walls.

"I suspected they might be to your liking." He briefly peeks back at you with a faint smile on his lips.

The heavy wooden doors creak open and your nostrils are quickly overwhelmed by the tempting smell of intricate dishes. You narrow your eyes, taking in the flavors. Once you finally look ahead, you notice that the table, although neatly decorated, consists only of two seats that have been prepared for dining. Two opposing seats, causing the whole setup to seem of ridiculous length.

"Pardon my intrusion, but is anyone else attending?" You cannot contain your curiosity.

"Oh, no. Not really." Hannibal pulls your chair outwards before departing to his own designated place. "It's you and me. Does that bother you?"

"I suppose it's cozier this way." You brush it aside with a chuckle. Better than being alone, you tell yourself.

He nods in agreement before settling down. He takes a moment to examine the table, confirming that everything is indeed in its proper place. A final, satisfied incline of his head.

"Allow me to introduce today's dishes. I don't want to keep you waiting for too long." He says as he remembers your earlier little gesture of delight. "It's a little bit of a scattered theme, if I am to be honest with you. I've drawn my inspiration from varied cuisines."

"I can see. How exciting!" You swiftly scan over the diverse plates, enthusiastic and hungry.

"The main course is over there. Balsamic-glazed oven baked ribs. I recommend a drizzle of cranberry sauce to go with it."

As he points to the dish, he can almost hear the dry crack of the bone. Abruptly, he's been taken back to the previous night, to his humble slaughter room - the meat needs to be fresh after all. Shears cut through the ribs with little resistance. The blades go around the thoracic cavity, contouring the ribcage. Once a proper opening has been made, he firmly grasps each side of the ribcage and nonchalantly lifts the bone flap, resting it over the face.

Wait. He quickly digs through the skin and fat that had been shoved aside with the carcass, searching for the face of the victim. It's you. How delectable and surprising that you've wandered into such a recollection. Well, not quite a surprise that you've invaded his memories; from the very moment he met you he's been plagued by this indecent idea: How would you look on the dissecting table?

His musings are interrupted by the sizzle of the sparkling wine he's currently pouring in your glass. He finds himself back at the dining table, together with his favorite guest. You graciously thank him, and as he gazes over your features, he can't help but continue this game of imagination he's just spontaneously devised. Whoever had been carefully served for this occasion will be temporarily replaced during the theatrical retelling by you. And what a fine actor you'll be, even though you're not aware of it.

Alright, one must start from the beginning. He traces the edge of the autopsy table and inspects the drain just below your feet. He wouldn't want an incident. Would you be mortified if you'd learn your secretions and discharges leaked and clotted against the sieve? Don't worry, you'll be spared of such scenarios. He'd never willingly embarrass you like that. He softly presses the scalpel against your bare skin, going under each breast and stopping at the pubic bone. Now to trim the thick layers of fat sticking to the dermis. You're not making much of a mess, but then again it's a dream within his idle mind. A mischievous grin takes over his expression once he witnesses his clean work. The segments of skin detach smoothly, revealing your glistening, bloated organs.

He already went over the ribs. That part has been covered. What comes next? His eyes rest on the most obvious: your intestines. Which reminds him...

"This one is a Middle Eastern dish. Stuffed intestines. You gently cut the membrane, like this." He demonstrates on a separate plate. "Don't worry about seeing some additional blood. Naturally there are many capillaries irrigating the walls, so you might open them up in the process. It quickly seeps into the mixture and adds a bit of a stagnant flavor to it, but it's merely noticeable."

You swallow dryly.

Back to the original matters. He searches for his scissors and cuts along the attachment tissue smoothly. Once the bowels have been freed, he fondles them into his hands, cupping them into place, and hurries to the nearby counter. The entrails collapse and spread onto the marble surface, like mischievous tentacles. He languidly eyes them. Do organs resemble their owner? Absurd question, really. Do they reflect one's health - that much is indubitable. Yet he can't help feeling that if presented with an endless row of viscera, he could, without hesitation, point and state which ones are yours. It's a mysterious confidence whose source he cannot pinpoint. You've always captivated him. Just when he thinks he's had you like an open book, you slip and slither between his fingers. Fitting.

What is it about you that preoccupies his mind to such degree? He turns back to the table and scans the remaining options. Your intelligence? The tool drawer opens and his fingers linger over the saw and skull chisel. Perhaps. But there's more to it, really. His analytical, rational self craves for more than what it can grasp. And what it lacks, well...

He pinches the visceral fascia and lifts the translucent membrane, with the same delicacy of unveiling a young bride, and reveals your heart, cold and still. There it is, the answer to everything. A transect to the vena cava near the diaphragm and the organ has been separated from the rest of the body. An angel with clipped wings. Holding it like this, he can almost discern the faintest throb, the fibrous muscle pressing into his skin.

"And this?"

He purses his lips, taken aback by his own rudeness. Has he been zoning out in plain sight?

"I'm afraid I don't follow."

"The dish, I mean."

He follows the direction of your stretched out index. Ah.

"Heart stuffed with mushroom duxelle. Old English classic with a twist."

"You sound like a professional chef", you respond as you laugh. "Is there anything you can't do?"

Is there? He considers it. Right before his revelation was discontinued by your inquiry - absolutely not your fault, the ill manners were his - he was wondering if he possesses the capacity to love you. He definitely prefers you over all of the people he's encountered in his life, and your behavior and way of thinking never ceases to make him curious. Yet love is a conclusion he cannot asses with certainty.

He had hoped a vivisectionist approach would offer him concrete data, palpable reasoning, but his journey only reinforced that some concepts must be tested outside of pure introspection. Or, as one would describe it colloquially, he has to take the bull by its horns.

"By the way, what meat is this?" You have arranged yourself a platter with a little bit of everything, and just finished chewing a hearty bite. "Ox or something? It's very tender."

If Hannibal is to embark on his expedition of human feelings, he needs to reflect on his choices carefully. Or does he? Hmm. His methodical tactics are what caused this impasse in the first place.

One can afford to give in, every now and then. How will you react to his self indulgence? He rests his head on the back of his intertwined hands and stares at you with a determined look.

"Human."

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #hannibal x reader #hannibal lecter x reader #yandere hannibal lecter #yandere #yandere x reader #tw cannibalism #tw body horror #horror x reader #slasher x reader

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help-itrappedmyself · 13 days

Text

Crimes and Punishments Part 2: Speedsters

Masterpost

“Why are we all here again?” The Flash asked Batman. Batman just made a noise in response. Like a hmmph, that somehow insinuated that Flash should know the answer to that question.

Robin hangs up the phone with this Danny person, and states that he should be arriving shortly. And he does, coming right through the window, gaping the whole way.

“Guys, I can’t thank you enough for hosting this meeting. And setting it up and everything, but mostly for hosting. Because my realm is slightly poisonous to you guys and because you’ve given me the chance to visit space! We’re in space right now, how awesome is that?! Can someone tell me all about this place later?” Danny rambles, as excited as Red said he would be.

Red gives Bruce a smug look in response.

“You’re welcome, Danny.”

“Now that we’re all here.” Batman grunts and everyone starts taking seats around the table.

Danny sheepishly takes a seat at the middle seat facing the window. The three speedsters sit across from him, Bruce at one head and Nightwing on the other. Red sits next to Bruce and Danny, Robin sits next to Nightwing and Danny. Danny pulls out a few pieces of paper and a pen.

Once everyone is situated, Batman gestures to Danny. “You called this meeting, about some broken laws?”

Danny nodded solemnly, his aura becoming slightly darker and more oppressing. He faces Bruce, “Yes, I have on my council the ancients of time and speed.” He turns to the speedsters. “You have been accused of breaking Clockwork, the ancient of time’s, rules about interfering in the timestream. He has stated many instances that you have left your own time, changed the past, and changed the future. Unfortunately, in doing so you have also corrupted reality and interfered in more laws of my dimension in bringing back the dead.”

“I’m sorry, but who exactly are you to be the authority on time and speed and, what, the dead too? Who are you at all?” Flash asks.

“We were told you were King of an alternate dimension, how does our dimension affect yours at all?” Kid Flash asks.

“I’m not the authority for time and speed, those are members of my council. Clockwork has been bringing complaints to me about all of you for a long time, but it wasn’t until I started investigating the other matter-” He makes a gesture towards Red, who nods, “that I discovered that the main cause of these problems has been your meddling with reality. You have created cracks in reality, caused by the fracture in the space-time continuum, and these cracks opened your realm to mine, which is poisonous to yours by the way. Clockwork has been cleaning up your messes in the timestream, and now I have cleaned up the leaks, and there is patchwork being done on reality right now.” He checks the last few points on his paper, making marks for each correction being made.

“You have control over all of that?” Impulse blurts out.

“More like I have control over the people who control all of that. Mostly. I’m in charge of space!” Danny smiles wide, fangs out and aura glowing for a second. “Your main interference with Space is the fact that you broke holes into your dimension, but I’m not big on punishments. Speed, the one who gave you your powers, she said you’d met with her before?” Danny pauses and glances between the speedsters.

“We’ve met the Speedforce.” Flash states. “We don’t fully understand the Speedforce or how it works though.”

“Yeah, that would be her! Dani doesn’t take the time to explain anything, always places to be, you know? But, she presently doesn’t have any complaints. Which complicates matters for me. Clockwork is demanding that she take the gifts she gave you, your powers, but she is refusing.”

The speedsters, having tensed, all relaxed at that.

“But Clockwork demands reparations for all the damage you have caused, and all the work he has put in to correct your mistakes.” Danny shrugs in a what-can-you-do manner. “And you have each meddled in the timestream correct?”

They each confirm.

“Right. We’re going to have to come to an agreement on repercussions for your violation of time law and space law. Now, I can’t say for sure who did what, or how many times, and what damage in particular it caused, which means unless you want to fess up right now, you’re all going to receive equal punishments, on the assumption you each caused a third of the damage.”

“I did most of it.” Flash says immediately. “I was the first to get my powers, I didn’t know how to use them, or how badly messing with the timestream ends up until I did it multiple times.”

“But we all did it!” Kid Flash argues.

“I’m technically messing with the timestream right now.” Impulse mutters.

“You did it while learning too! At least you figured it out before creating something like Flashpoint.”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Danny raises his voice over theirs as they start to argue. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” He rubs his head for a moment. “Now, mistakes are understandable, especially while learning new powers. So, in the future, new speedsters will be given leniency so long as you three take responsibility for teaching them the dangers and the rules. We will not punish those learning unfairly.”

The speedsters settle back down in their chairs.

“We can teach new speedsters.” Flash agrees.

“Wonderful! That burden is now part of your punishment.” Danny makes a note on his paper. “One of the main damages done, raising the dead in your alterations of the timeline, will at this point not be undone. From this moment on, everyone stays how they are. We don’t want to go around killing people for your mistakes.”

The speedsters start glancing at the Bats, not having known that was even an option.

“Thank you.” Red states on behalf of the speedsters. Danny nods.

“With that covered,” He looks back at his papers, shuffling through a few. “Clockwork has made an agreement with Dani, as punishment for abusing your powers they will be taken away-”

All the speedsters start to interject, but Danny lets out some eldritch features and lets his aura become more and more powerful and fear-inducing until they all cower back in their seats. Once they are quiet he continues.

“I have been informed that you are all heroes on this planet, so we have all agreed to call this community service. Based on how long you’ve been helping and a few other factors, we made this decision: you will each lose your powers for a total of two months, and then be placed on probation. If you continue to serve your community and use your powers for good, then we will have no further problems. If any of you mess with the timestream on purpose your powers will be revoked permanently. If it is an accident, your powers will be removed again temporarily, but for a time period yet to be determined, but that will be longer than two months. Do you understand?”

They all nod slowly, but the Kid Flash speaks up.

“What if they need us while our powers are gone? We do help, we have people counting on us, what if our teams need us?”

Danny gives him a smile. “The Bats, when I spoke to them about the situation earlier, were concerned about that as well. If you agree to this plan, and we agree to only take one of your powers away at a time, that way the other two can coordinate and help when needed.”

“Will I be sent back to my own timeline?” Impulse’s voice is small and quiet.

“No. Just like with the dead, what is done is done.” Danny makes sure to have eye contact with Impulse. “This agreement does mean you could never go back though, so if you did want to…” Danny trails off.

Impulse shakes his head.

“Okay then.” Danny checks his papers again. “Were there any more questions?”

He gives it a moment.

“Then I will take this agreement back to my people and make sure everything is set. Then we will need to set up a time frame for the removal periods. For now though, everything is done. Thank you so much for your cooperation!”

#batman #danny phantom #the flash #dpxdc #dcxdp #my writing #fanfiction #summoning game show #speedsters

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mangowafflesss · 10 months

Note

TF141 reaction to the new member of their team beating their ass during training not expecting her to be so skillful (it's a little hard to explain but basically since they're stronger and bigger than her she uses her speed and flexibility to her advantage), she's been transferred because of her skills after all 💪💪

(I love ur writings btw ty for making my day with them heehee <3)

JSOSNHUXUXB YOU MAKING ME BLUSHHHH ANON 🤭 I AM SO BAD AT WRITING FIGHTS OMG

You didn't feel like going to the gym this morning but with multiple complaints from Price you thought you better go.

You've been putting off training with the rest of the taskforce because of the sole reason of not wanting them to underestimate you. You were a good fighter, thanks to your old captain for training you to be exactly that.

You rounded the corner to where the gym was and saw them all stretching through the window of the door. You let out a deep sigh as you pulled open the heavy door.

"There you are! thought you weren't going to show"

You ignored Soaps annoying laughter and headed over to where Price currently was helping Gaz with something.

"Captain. Garrick" You gave them a nod and they both turned to look at you. Price was the first to talk to you and told you to go over to the sparring mats. He also told the others and you all stood in a circle, watching one another.

"Now everyone's here were going to do a group sparring session"

"What? so we just fight each other together?"

"Last one standing wins"

You nod to yourself as you stretch your limbs so you don't end up getting cramp or hurting yourself. You look at all the others in the group and try to come up with a plan, your main priority would be Ghost and then the others after but if that doesn't work then who ever is closest.

You got into position and kept a distance from the others who will most definitely go for one another first. The whistle was blown and surprisingly Gaz went for you but you dodged his arm that came your way and swept his feet from under him, taking him out of the competition.

You saw Soap attempting to take down Ghost so you snook up on the masked man and as you got close he pushed Soap away and grabbed your arm, you used your legs to try and get him off balance while pushing your body weight against him. He lets you go briefly and you run out of the way of him grabbing you again.

You ran into Soap in the way and twist around him while grabbing both of his arms behind him, you trip him over with your leg and effectively bring him down to the ground.

You heard him grumble and complain under his breath as he left the sparring mats to join the others.

It was just you and Ghost left and he looked at you as if he was going to kill you. He charged at you but you were too fast at dodging his advances.

You were in a different world, thinking about how to take him down and as you came back to reality you were breathlessly panting above a floored Ghost. His arms were spread out above his head as he looked to be winded from falling down to the ground.

You saw Price come towards you and he had a big smile on his face "congratulations, you win" he claps you on the shoulder and you just smile awkwardly as you see the others approach.

"Nice work what you did with Ghost, I'm glad you got me out first"

"You're a good fighter lass, next time me and you alone. Your going down"

You laugh at Soaps attempt at being intimidating but he just walks away to go workout with Gaz.

You bend down to pick up your water bottle and feel a presence behind you. Turning around you see Ghost who just tells you well done and then leaves you be.

You decide to stay and workout while your here and prepare in your mind for a spontaneous round two with Soap.

#captain john price x reader #price x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader

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shantechni · 9 months

Text

"2012 Mikey is Abused" and other constant complaints that, quite frankly, don't make sense

Since one Reddit user (who shall remain anonymous) inadvertently made me type out an essay I intended to write and post in a more coherent manner at a later date, I will be using their comment and my response.

Anyways, the comment itself starts off fairly normal and agreeable:

But then I see the next three points and my sleep-deprived mind just goes off the rails, so let's start with the second point:

Let me preface this by saying I absolutely do not condone the writing here because everyone under the sun will agree that we could've easily had the "Karai is our sister!?" plot twist without Leo and Karai briefly developing feelings for each other.

The problem is that this brief development of feelings is wildly blown out of proportion by the fandom, so much so that it makes it seem as though Leo and Karai actually had anything legitimate going on between them.

The "incest-eqsue garbage" between Leo and Karai is almost nonexistent outside of the writing room. They openly crush on each other for a whopping six episodes by way of verbally teasing each other and being at odds before Karai tells Leo that she's the Shredder's daughter. That's it. He is not pursuing her after that (hardly ever did, not even to the extent that Donnie pursues April) and Karai isn't remotely fond of him anymore after he broke their deal. Then, after we find out alongside Splinter that she's actually his daughter, he tells Leo towards the end of Follow the Leader. We don't get a reaction, actually nothing on Leo's side since the Foot Clan is mostly absent with April being the main point of conflict, even in Target: April O'Neil because April's forgiveness of the turtles is the main focus.

Leo eventually attempts to tell Karai the truth in Wormquake! and The Manhattan Project and she obviously doesn't believe the poor guy, she just wants to kill the turtles and Splinter at this point. Leo doesn't tell her because "he still likes her", but because, in his own words, it would change everything. She deserves to know the truth and Splinter shouldn't have his own daughter cursing him at every waking moment. When she tricks the gang into bringing her to the lair under the guise of her finally accepting the truth, Leo is ecstatic and his first thought is for her and Splinter to make amends. He's upset that Raph still can't fully trust her in the end when she fought alongside them (who can blame Raph though, he's cradling an unconscious brother after a plan gone awry), and that's the end of that.

They dedicate two episodes to the guys attempting to rescue her because Leo has enough brain cells to worry about what the Shredder could be doing with her, and Raph makes a jab at Leo on one instance when they find her (there is absolutely no romantic undertone, Raph just picks at his old crush on her and their tendency to tease each other at the worst times). Then, when she wants to get back at the Shredder for ripping her away from a life she never knew was her's, Leo attempts to aid her because he knows it isn't wise to face someone like that alone, especially with his henchmen there.

There's one last self-aware jab at their past feelings in S5, of which Karai awkwardly remembers and forgoes mentioning, and that's the last you see or hear of that.

As much as I dislike it, I'd take this narrative over the Donnie-April-Casey hurricane any day.

It seems that 2012 Mikey's mere existence is a sore spot for fans because Jesus Christ this gets brought up way too much.

Mikey is not written as a complete idiot, he's written as someone who doesn't see a reason to take everything so seriously, has odd habits, and doesn't always think things through, yet is shown to be highly capable and intelligent when the situation calls for it. Yes the writers left much to be desired at times, but to say they wrote him to be a "complete idiot" and left it at that is just offensive. I'll ignore all the miraculous things Mikey can do with Kraang stuff and Dimension X and focus on what other things he's shown to be capable of.

Mikey was a temporary learning model for Donnie in how to fight without thinking, or in better terms, how to fight instinctually without becoming bogged down by your own mind. Splinter's lesson is shown in a comedic manner, but that's ultimately what helped Donnie defeat Falco.

Another interesting thing is his ability to keep his composure when no one else around him can do so. I mentioned this briefly in another post, but it really stands out to me how he put Leo at the top of his priority list in Invasion Part 2. He's as worried for Splinter as Raph and Donnie are, but they have with them a crippled and unconcious Leo who needs medical attention asap, compared to martial arts master Splinter who's older and wiser than the three of them combined at times. Even when they eventually find Splinter and lose him, he keeps the gang in line by reminding them, as well as himself, that Splinter can take care of himself.

Along with that is when Splinter was kidnapped in The Manhattan Project. Mikey was quick to intervene when Raph was angry with Leo for allowing Tiger Claw to coax him into calling Splinter, and he reminded the two of the problem at hand: they have Splinter, let's go find him and take him back. There are so many other moments when he becomes the levelheaded one in response to the chaos or disorder surrounding him.

Mikey is a highly skilled fighter, he's emotionally intelligent, he remembers the weirdest things that eventually aid the team, he's street smart, he's a fast learner (ex: Bradford's secret kata, as well as the temporary use of the plasma katana in Target: April O'Neil), he's great at distracting enemies without needing to become bait, he gets insecure about things, he has photographic memory, he's the most outgoing of his brothers and therefore ends up with the most friends, he's quick to adapt to a situation and think of a plan, he can throw together seemingly random ingredients to create exactly what Donnie would struggle to create, he knew exactly what to do to find Casey after his run-in with Tiger Claw, the list goes on.

Heck, just to add to this, Mikey is the one who saves the day in three separate stories in S5. 1) His temporary electric powers save the world from Dregg and the Newtralizer, 2) he convinced Frankenstein's monster to join their side, retrieved the scepter from Savanti and Dracula (he accidentally broke the scepter while he was at it, but that helped) and cured Raph and Donnie of their vampirism, and 3) he was the one who repaired Kavaxas' seal and made him reopen the portal to the Netherworld so the dead could return.

The brothers don't always take him as seriously as they should or listen to him, and that's understandable at times, but when they do, they're reminded of the fact that Mikey, in his own way, is intelligent.

If I had a dime for every comment I've seen about this, I'd be rich enough to buy the TMNT series from Viacom and right every wrong they made with the 2012 series.

These abuse allegations are as bad as people putting Markiplier in the same tweet as problematic Youtubers and saying something wild like, "these content creators should've been cancelled a long time ago." I feel like people who say the brothers abuse Mikey are either an only child or genuinely have a warped sense for what actually counts as abuse, and I'm not even trying to be mean, those are just my thoughts. I shouldn't even have to comment on this, but the fact that people are still seriously believing that to this day is shocking.

Would you also like to say that Raph was abused in Turtle Temper when Splinter had the boys ceaselessly taunt him in that little exercise? Or that the boys abused Raph everytime they downplayed his anger? Or that Raph abused Donnie by threatening to hit him if he didn't find Snakeweed's hideout? Or that Leo abused Donnie everytime he stressed him out by rushing him for answers? Or that Donnie abused Mikey because Mikey flinched 2cm to the right when Donnie raised his hand to playfully knock at his noggin? Or that Leo was abused by the team because they took forever to view him as their leader? Or that Splinter abused the boys because he was "too rough" on them during training?? Or that April abused Donnie because she "constantly led him on"? Or that Xever and Bradford abused Baxter???

I'm losing my mind over here

Mikey is never physically or emotionally abused by his brothers, the show speaks for itself. But if you somehow aren't listening, go look up a textbook example of abuse, or better yet, look at Karai.

Abuse is the Shredder locking Karai in a dungeon when she tries to escape to her real family and going so far to become a peak manipulator by saying Karai was hurting him by making him lock her away. Worse than that, he starts brainwashing her with mind controlling worms so she has no choice but to obey him. Even before then, he's lowkey uncaring of her wellbeing: he treats her like any other soldier of his and doesn't listen to her when she tries to tell him something. He doesn't address her concerns about the Foot bots nearly finishing her off, instead telling her, "disobedience comes with a stiff penalty, especially for my daughter," when she objects to him telling her not to take action against the turtles while he's gone.

He only ever pays her any attention or gives her praise when it benefits him and his vendetta against Splinter.

Splinter and the turtles are the farthest thing from the image of a family filled with abusers. Raph openly apologizes to Mikey when Splinter tells him to stop picking at him in Shellacne, Raph comforts Donnie when the brainiac is somber after forcing Timothy into the equivalent of a cold sleep, Raph apologizes when his anger gets the better of him and he hits Leo harder than intended, Donnie apologizes when he realizes he shouldn't insult Raph when the guy is visibly upset, Leo regrets doubting Donnie about Metalhead, etc., etc.

Even beyond apologies, Raph is the quickest to entertain Mikey and vice versa during a mundane moment, Donnie never kicks Mikey out of the lab, Leo plays around with Mikey when the situation doesn't call for him to be their fearless leader, and Splinter is quick to advise Mikey during Karai's Vendetta and Shellacne. There are even times when the guys just go along with Mikey's antics because there's no harm in doing so, and often times Mikey needs a moment to be silly.

If you think play fighting, teasing, or getting a little physical with a sibling is the equivalent of abuse, particularly in the context of TMNT of all things, you need to do some re-evaluation.

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esmiara · 11 months

Text

As promised, let me introduce you my two beloved BSD OCs:

Who are they?

Basically, Lewis and Antoine are two friends traveling around the world to discover exciting places while avoiding various government forces (more on that later). Though not related to the main story of BSD, they do know about organisations like Port Mafia and the Agency, mainly from what they heard in the streets and read in the newspapers since they arrived in Yokohama. However, they do prefer to not get anyone involved in their issues, nor do they really want to get involved in anyone else’s.

Lewis Carroll

Based on the author of Alice in Wonderland, Lewis was a man in his thirties with a fancy mind. As a child, he once had a wild imagination feeding his ability Wonderland (again, more on that later) but due to social and family pressure, he got forced upon a path of logic and perfection, now making it hard for him to think outside the box. Thus crushing his past self involuntarily and putting chains on his own mind in order to protect himself from outside complaints. As an adult, he became a plain math teacher for children, with a quite boring life. That is, until he met one certain child in London.

Their meeting

“Draw me a sheep.” said the unknown child out of the blue.

Lewis was stunned. He didn’t knew what to respond at first to this child, which he thought was one of his students. But when he put more thought on it, he didn’t looked like any child he had at the time. Who might have been this strange blond kid with unkept clothes? He decided to learn more about him, worried he may have lost his parents somewhere. However, as they talked, he quickly understood he didn’t had any. He simply didn’t knew about any “parents”. Actually, he didn’t knew much about the world itself either.

“Draw me a sheep!” repeated the child after a while of interrogative discussion about who he was, where he came from etc....

Lewis gently asked why such a demand, as he didn’t want to offend this possible lost orphan.

The boy fell silent. Then spoke again, a sad emptiness darkening his young blue eyes.

“I want a warm friend to bring with me” he simply responded.

Their exchange may have been succinct up to this point, but it was clear to Lewis that he was no normal child. As the boy seemingly didn’t have a name, Lewis gave him the name of one of his most beloved book’s author. The character of that one book simply reminded him of the boy.

Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

More based on the Little Prince’s main character than the actual author, Antoine was an enigmatic individual with the physical appearance of a young boy. Nobody knows of his real age, not even himself. However, most may have theorized that he at least was around for at least a few decades, if not centuries perhaps. One day found and caught by the french government in his - supposedly - hometown, he had no memories of his time before then, except for some vague fragments. He mostly remembered about this laboratory he was brought in, with a lonely room where he would occasionnally meet strangers dressed in white. Despite the many uncertainties surrounding him, Antoine was still of great interest for scientists. He didn't seemed to physically age at all. Could he hold the secret of cells regeneration or even immortality? They soon found out he did age but at a very slow pace, thus looking unchanged for many years.

Curious about this plausible new ability, they decided to make him meet a young girl, who would share his room from now on. This one girl was quite arrogant at first. Antoine didn't really like her attitude but she was the only other person he could befriend. So they did. They soon became friends. Then they learned more about the truth, may it be this girl's past, snatched from her orphanage to become a lab rat as well, or the whole reason why she was here with him in the first place.

It was all because of the young girl's ability. One that would let her copy another one and make it her own. They apparently wished to make a copy of test subject B612′s power in order to "save it” somewhere and be able to experiment on it without having to risk the boy’s life. But things didn't turned out like they wanted as the girl began to crumble under some unknown sickness. Her body couldn't handle Antoine's ability, so it seemed, and she quickly became unable to move. So she made a promise with Antoine:

“Be my eyes and explore the outer world, okay dumby?” she said, with little breath she had left.

A promise reminiscent of the one where they would explore and see the world together. One where he would do so if she couldn't follow, to make her dream come true even when she became a star.

Their abilities

Little prince

No one really knows the details about Antoine's ability. Everything we know for sure is that his body has a very long lifetime, yet not immortal. He is destined to die of aging one day and is still weak to any wound like anyone else. However, we did notice Antoine's body starts to produce a faint glow whenever he gets sick or when his life is in danger in general. Not that it really helps at all though.

Wonderland

Lewis' ability is a bit complex and confusing, much like Alice in Wonderland's whole world.

In theory, Wonderland is quite simple: it allows its bearer to create anything he thinks to be a nonsense, something that is normally impossible. It could be seen as an area surrounding the user, in which he can create anything he wants, as long as it meets the proper requirements (being a "nonsense").

However, as the whole definition of "nonsense" depends on the user's mind, one could have a hard time creating anything. As such, what could be a nonsense to someone isn't necessarily one for Lewis. He is still quite a peculiar man after all.

A strange man, but with many restrictions on his mind and imagination. As he was forced to think with logic for the most part of his life now, he can't stop asking himself about the specifics of one’s question. Where a visible nonsense would occur, Lewis' mind would subconsciously ponder over what could make it truly real or impossible. If he can't get proper answers to those questions, then it can't happen either.

The beginning of their adventures

As they became much closer as people who somehow understood each other, Lewis began to be more friendly with the child, rather than looking like a mere adult talking to a little one. He saw himself in his struggles. He saw a young mind, much like his own a long time ago, slowly getting crushed by adult's expectations and limiting his own thoughts. He couldn't let the same thing happen twice when they still had a choice. So he encouraged him to get creative and let free of his imagination, with no worries about exterior opinions.

One day however, they suddenly got caught off guard by militaries sent by the french government as well as some members of the Order of the Clocktower, there to retrieve the unknown child for their own purpose instead. It was at that time that Lewis was finally able to make use of his ability once more after so many years. Inspired by Antoine’s naturally spoken nonsense, he unleashed Wonderland in order to escape. This also put a permanent stop to Lewis’ normal way of life, as he now was as searched for as Antoine was. It was time for a involuntary trip around the world, it seemed. But this time, Antoine wasn’t alone anymore.

#bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd oc #bsd #bsd ocs #esmi ocs #bsd art #idk which tags to put at this point #long post #some angst #oc

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aspoetssay · 1 year

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that tiktok about fulfilling whims from the book of life inspired this—

pairing: alejandro vargas x f!reader

warnings: alejandro calling you sweet names, smut, fingering, unprotected sex, switch!alejandro, curse words, pinv, minors dni! also I’m horrible at writing smut so that’s that and English is not my first language

p.s. I'm shadowbanned on my main account @bemyawakening for no reason, so I created this one as a backup!

It wasn’t like Alejandro to keep that kind of distance from you. It surprised you that your foolish little prank worked on him and he was refraining from putting his hands on you; keeping his distance.

His hands were always on you, his lips were reaching for your skin, his warmth was soothing you. As a shadow, he provided you, fed your love language and now he was keeping his distance from you.

Precisely a meter away from him, you could feel his presence. Innocently, you tried to ignore the fact that his hands weren’t on your hips already. Fuck—you didn’t think he will take this seriously, but now you had to hold on.

As a joke, really, you told him that you’d do anything he wished if he’d refrain from touching you. Anything. And something clicked inside of that man’s head that he was giving you those eyes before breakfast.

His hot stare was burning your skin. It was harder to focus on preparing a new batch of coffee and mixing the batter for pancakes when he was just watching you.

“Morning, my love,” you acknowledged his presence. “No morning kiss, mh?”

You heard him chuckle. He always complained that you were a tease—it wasn’t a real complaint. As much as he claimed to suffer, he enjoyed it. You knew that. And you shamelessly used that against him. This stupid little competition was proof of it.

“Not today, corazón,” he rasped out. Fuck—his voice always made your heart pump faster. The rasp was so raw, making the hairs on your body stand and a wave of pleasure move down you. “You and your little games.”

“You don’t have to play them.” You slightly turned around, pressing your bum to the counter, giving yourself the opportunity to look at your fiancée.

You regretted doing so because the man was such a teasing persona as well and you couldn’t get enough of him. You didn’t know why you came up with this challenging stuff when your breath was taken away whenever you saw him. But you won’t back down.

His whole body was inviting you—he wanted you to come to him. Back leaned against the wall, sweatpants hanging low, showing that happy trail of black hairs moving down, making you lick your lips unconsciously. The Special Forces toned his body nicely and you never backed down from eyeing him—God, he was so fucking handsome.

“Regretting your own decisions, no?” His voice was undressing you. His voice was leaving you bare and needy. His voice was so fucking close to bringing you down on your knees.

You were. “What decision, my love? M’just trying to make some breakfast. Promised me we’ll have a lazy Sunday.” You knew he could see right through you, so you continued with making the breakfast, starting to enjoy that he was watching you.

Taking the opportunity that he was looking at you, you opened the wall cabinet in front of you, tip-toeing and reaching your hand up to grab the maple syrup that was on the highest shelf. The action made your nightgown ride up your ass and show the bare skin to him which was covered in small bruises from a few nights before.

You heard him take in a sharp breath - no panties. Smirking, you closed the wall cabinet and proceeded to prepare the breakfast. He could leave the room, but he decided to stay and for that, you will make him suffer just a little bit.

Baking the pancakes, you were quiet, knowing he was watching and waiting when you will break your innocent act—your ass was on display. Turning around, you were met with his lustful stare—his pupils overtaking the dark brown of his lovely irises. His toned chest was rising with every breath he took; huh, he really had some patience.

“Why don’t we finish what we started?” His accent was making you swoon. Spanish wasn’t your native language and you have picked the basics because of him, but little did he know that you had been studying when he was out on the missions in order to surprise him one day with fully understanding him.

Alejandro came closer to you, keeping proximity between you two of a few centimetres—not touching. Raising your chin to meet the eyes of the taller man, you softly smiled, slightly shaking your head: “What did we start, mh?”

The man chuckled—he knew how stubborn you were and loved that about you. Slowly, he grabbed the end of your nightgown, pulling it down to cover your bum, not touching your skin. The thought of him almost touching you made you light-headed. He was too close, but not close enough and the need to press your hands into his biceps and pull him closer made you shiver.

That man was a devil. He played your game nicely.

His action made you slightly move back, your ass hitting the countertop, but he followed your movement - keeping the few centimetres between you two.

“Just touch me, Alejandro.” You batted your eyelids. His Adam’s apple moved down and up slowly. He was unwrapping you with his stare. It was too hot in the kitchen.

Sometimes you forgot he was a soldier and he had restraint. “You’ll do anything if I’ll win your little game, corazón. I can’t lose.”

A smirk tugged on your lips. “What is it that you have in mind?”

His smirk only deepened, visibly his eyes moving down to your cleavage, his breathing quickening. The man in front of you was a sin. He’ll wreck you if he wins. You knew well he was able to make sure you won’t walk for a few days.

“It’ll ruin the surprise, no?” His voice was angelic, but his demeanour was far from it.

It was your chance. You turned off the stove and you moved closer, not touching him still. Tilting your head, you met his eyes. “Touch me.” It was more of a demand than a beg. “Cumpliré tus caprichos.” You promised and watched the way his self-control snapped in two. “Todos tus caprichos.”

He loved the way you spoke Spanish, the way your tongue rolled when you pronounced the words—you were a natural. And he had no idea you were capable to say something like this in Spanish. Instead of questioning how, his resistance broke into pieces.

His hands found your body, pushing you to him. His hands fit your body perfectly—you were perfect and now you were this close to getting him whimpering. “Mhm,” he hummed, pushing his palms underneath your nightgown, pushing you closer to the wall, and keeping eye contact. “Eso suena—“ he gulped, processing your words, “eso suena divino.”

Stroking the curve of your waist, you could feel his hard-on against your thighs and you licked your lips in pure lust and victory. Something clearly snapped inside of him when you said that and he was holding back.

You didn’t want him to hold back. “Alejandro.” There was a wicked glint in your eyes and he knew he was fucked. “Tócame.”

Every restraint just snapped apart as if it was made out of paper. His strong hands grabbed you, a primal sound leaving his throat from the depths of his chest—you were just in the kitchen, and now your back hit the bed.

“Oh Dios mío,” he mumbled, his hands softly moving down to your knees as you pushed them closer to you. “Spread your legs, princesa, let me see you.”

Complying, you showed yourself in all your glory, feeling so fucking small when he was starting you like that. He was going to destroy you and you were going to welcome it—only if you wouldn’t have won.

That’s why, when he softly stroked your thigh, you slowly moved up, grasping him by his shoulder to pull him closer to you. “I won.” You reminded him, your arms wrapping around his neck. “So be a good boy and sit down for me, mh?”

Smirking against your lips, he complied. Now you were the one standing in front of him as he was sitting. Simply, you pushed the straps of your nightgown down your shoulders, letting the material fall on the carpet beneath you, receiving a breath from him.

“Eres bonita—fuck,” he breathed out, moving his eyes up and down your body.

Coming closer, you straddled him, feeling his clothed dick pressing on your inner thighs, making you lick your lips. And God—the sight of him looking at you through half-closed eyelids made you want to make him a mess. Fuck him slowly and sensually. Make him drunk on you.

Your bodies moved like magnets. Your lips moved down his neck, fingernails gently tracing his back, making him lean back just a bit. It was heavenly—the taste of his skin was melting on your tongue, filling your lungs with his musky scent, pheromones directed at you. His palms were massaging your body, pressing you closer, trying to create any type of friction between the two of you.

“Come on, baby, behave,” you mumbled against his skin, nuzzling your nose at the bruise you left on his collarbone. Receiving a small whine from him, you chuckled against his skin, pushing your hands down his chest, scraping your nails on his toned stomach.

Pushing your hand into his sweatpants, you grabbed ahold of his dick—it was leaking with pre-cum, slightly throbbing in your hand, his hips moving in ghost movements to get any type of friction. Slicking his pre-cum down his length, your touch gentle and slow, left him impatient. You could see how he was battling to just now throw you on the bed and fuck your brains out, but the anticipation got him locked in his seat.

You raised just enough to pull his sweatpants down before straddling him again. As you pulled him into a messy kiss, you earned a little moan from him as you moved your wet folds on his pulsating dick, coating him with your wetness. The kiss was full of teeth, messy and whiny. The desperation of the two of you was making you breathless and as you pulled away, a string of saliva connect you two, making you share a look with him.

Pushing out your tongue, you broke the string that connected you two, watching the way his eyes ended on your lips. He was breathless and aching for you—and you were taking too damn long to just—

Feeling the familiar grip on your thighs tighten on you - you breathed out a chuckle. He wasn’t a patient man, not when it came to you slowly moving on his dick as if you meant to torture him. “Princesa.”

It was a warning. A warning that your pretty little head will be buried in the sheets as he will take what he wants. But the warning only made you bubble with pure sin, wanting to bring him down the edge—fuck, you wanted him to beg.

“Don’t even think about it,” you warned him, grinding harder against him. Receiving a hiss from him, you could see that you were challenging him.

“You’re being a tease,” he mumbled, a small whine leaving his mouth as you stopped moving your hips on his. His hands cupped your breasts, gently kneading them as he watched you—you two always fought about who will be on top. And as much as he loved being taken care of, he knew that you will be cruel because you won.

“Ask nicely and I’ll give anything you want. I promised, didn’t I?” You innocently fluttered your eyelashes as you grabbed his length and pushed the throbbing tip between your folds.

His nostrils flared, hips moving slightly up as an impulse, but you expected that and slightly moved up. “Princesa,” he gulped, eyes moving down to look at your pretty plump thighs. “I need you—oh, carajo—“ he hissed as you pushed the throbbing tip inside of you, stretching your velvety walls deliciously, but going no further.

The stretch was welcomed, it made you feel warm and giddy. “You can ask better. Can’t you?”

The primal instinct has already kicked in—the need to slap his hips up and meet your body was so tempting. He needed you like air. He needed your tight walls squeezing him, leaving him craving for more. It made him feel frustrated— “Por favor,” he gritted out, his mind plagued by the pleasure of you, by the cruelty of you, by the aching desire for you. “Por favor—please, just go down—“

Satisfied with his unfinished blabbering, you sank down on his cock completely, placing your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. He was too big—but you welcomed his dick inside you any time. The stretch was burning, and your walls were pulsating against him—panicking, wanting him out, but you sat on him. Your ass completely pressed on his lap as he lost his thought in the middle of the sentence.

He always took his time with you, stretching you out with his fingers, making you cum on his mouth a few times before penetrating you. That’s why this straightforward movement left him choking on the end of his sentence, making him fight with the urge to cum in your right there and at that moment.

Leaning slightly back, you inhaled deeply as you slowly moved up and down, setting your pace. That man was so taken aback by the unexpected stretch that he was just getting mesmerised by the way your breasts were bouncing in front of his eyes. It was unexplainable how quickly your touch, your body, your voice made his brain get shortcutted. All he could think about was the way you were getting off on him. The way your little, pretty fucking moans were better than anything he has heart. The way your slightly knitted your eyebrows from the aching stretch—pornographic really. Too sensual.

Your pace was quickening—his grunts echoing through the room. His hands gripped your thighs harder, trying to slightly meet your pace, but it was all too much—your sensual moans were making him lose coherent thoughts, focus on the way how warm you were, your wet pussy making pretty sounds meeting his hips.

He grew impatient. Wanted more. He was greedy. Moremoremoremore—

“Fuck—princesa—I—“ he breathed out, slightly zoning out as he grunted as you moved harder on him. His grip on your thighs will leave pretty marks that he will kiss every night before sleep, but all he could think of was that he wanted more.

Already shifted slightly to the edge, planting his feet steadily on the carpet, he was ready to fuck you properly—but you sat on him completely, piercing him with your gaze. The lack of movement made him huff out, mouth slightly falling open as he was getting so close to filling your pretty little pussy.

Suddenly, you raised from his lap, moving away from him with a wicked grin on your face. “You just never learn, do you?” Your tone was a sin. You were up to no good. Instead, you walked beside him, crawling into the bed beside him and spreading your legs as you turned around.

The smell of sex was entering his lungs and he was regretting his choices—you little teasing minx.

Your legs were spread right in front of him as he shifted in his seat, to face you. The glistering of your wet pussy was making him throb painfully—you looked so pretty. His eager eyes watched the way you brought two fingers into your mouth, gently sucking them and pulling them out with a pop.

Moving your fingers to your clit, you let out a soft moan, making him lose his mind. His hand moved to his cock, but you flicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth, giving him a glare:

“I’ll tie your hands if I have to, Coronel.”

You calling him by his rank only made him grumble in his chest, already thinking that the lazy Sunday that you two planned will quickly turn into a fucking session that will leave you a blabbering mess. But you, taking control always was welcomed by him—it was the way your voice became authoritative that was making him feel so good.

He was so used to giving the commands that your commands were making him frustrated, but very very turned on. That’s why, he grinned, leaning back to the wall and keeping his hands slightly up as if showing that he is giving up. “Sí, señora.”

Satisfied with his answer, you continued displaying him pure torture. The sounds leaving your mouth were sinful as your two fingers were disappearing in your folds all the way in. He knew it wasn’t enough, he knew you couldn’t pleasure yourself well with your fingers, you couldn’t reach the little sweet spot, but he couldn’t force himself to disobey you.

You looked so fucking pretty. Glistering in a little layer of sweat, cheeks slightly pink as your mouth was slightly opened. So close, you were so close and he could see it. The way your hips slightly rolled, meeting the movement of your fingers, the way you squeezed your breasts and all of that while maintaining eye contact.

Lustful fucking eye contact.

“Good boy,” you breathed out, coming closer to your high. But it wasn’t enough—you needed more, you needed him. And he could see that.

He could see the way you were gripping the blanket with your free hand, trying to roll your hips faster, but it wasn’t enough. Ever since you met him—your fingers, nothing was enough. He destroyed you. He made you addicted to him. And that left him satisfied.

“Come on, princesa, I can see you struggling,” he softly cooed, trying to ignore that the ache in his dick, the angry red tip of his leaking creamy pre-cum just from watching her. “I’ll be good. Promise.”

Letting out a small whine of dissatisfaction, you complied and moved towards him. He slowly moved down, laying on the bed, helping you straddle him. He was too excited and when you moved down on his dick he grunted as you softly trailed your fingers on his stomach and leaned back, starting to pleasure herself properly on him.

Pretty—so pretty. He only chanted your name, as he watched the way your body moved on his, watched the way you chased your pleasure. You were fucking yourself on him and he loved every second of it. The way your hair was falling forwards, your fingers rubbing your clit as you closed your eyes as you spasmed on his dick, coating it with your climax.

“Good girl,” he hummed beneath you. You already felt so fucked out, so shaky from the adrenaline and the lust that you didn’t notice the sly glint in his eyes.

But he slightly pushed his knees up, raising you just a bit before he started to thrust up into you, his balls hitting your sensitive clit, making you gasp out in pure surprise. Your words got stuck in your throat as you tried to breathe in properly—too sensitive, too fucked out, too big, too big, too big. You could swear he was bruising your cervix from this angle and that made you slightly zone out.

Watching the way your fucked out body was getting wobbly, he sat up, placing his hands on your waist as his thrusts slowed down. “Hey—hey,” he softly hummed. “Eyes on me.” He demanded, meeting your teary eyes.

So sensitive—already? He didn’t have to do anything.

“Alejandro,” you whined slightly, not needing to say the words as he knew you were sensitive, your thighs slightly shaking on his.

Was he a bit unhinged that this turned him on even more? “Aw, princesa,” he softly cooed, cupping your face, placing a soft kiss on your lips, feeling the way you became putty in his hands. “You said something about—cumpliré tus caprichos, no?” He recited his words, that smirk tugging on his lips. “Well, mis caprichos start from filling you so full of my cum to leaving you a little, beautiful blabbering mess. Think you can live up to your words?”

That man was a sin. He had the stamina to ruin you. You wanted for him to touch so bad that you forgot about the countless nights he has fucked you until the mornings until you were cock-dumb.

“Words, mi amor,” he softly stroked your thighs, watching the way you zoned out before you met his gaze.

Sealing your lips together, you softly gave into the warmth of his body, humming and welcoming him. “I’d be disappointed if you wouldn’t take what’s promised.”

A little burst of laughter echoed through the bedroom, him cupping your face as his pupils widened slightly. “I can’t wait to wreck your little body so you’d stop with your silly games.”

“I know you like them,” you murmured against his lips.

Oh, he did. Laughing against your lips, he pecked them, humming softly. So in love with you that he’d give you the world. But first, he had to make sure he will live up to his words. His whims had to be fulfilled.

#sunnywrites!#call of duty #alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas fic #alejandro vargas x you #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas smut #alejandro mw2 #call of duty imagine #call of duty x reader #alejandro x you #alejandro x reader #alejandro smut

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 4 months

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To preface this, I know there are parts of this that make me look bad. I know. I've been a substandard boss and I should've taken care of the situation a long time ago. But I'm in a bind and I really just need to know if I'd compound my assholishness by doing the main thing I'm about to ask.

I manage a manufacturing business that also has a delivery component. We make the product and make sure it gets where it needs to go--which I'm sure you understand isn't as easy as it used to be, with Amazon and Temu and all of those nipping at our nose. The manufacturing sector is working fine, no complaints, absolutely shipshape. It's in deliveries where the problem starts.

We have a newer employee who...let's just say stands out from the rest of the bunch, who are mostly old guard. They're reliable, I've been working with them for years, but they're set in their ways and have been giving the new guy shit, especially over his appearance. It's not even about something he can control, poor kid, but I don't want to get more specific than that. I've been so swamped with getting everything ready for the holiday season that I dropped the ball and let them treat the kid pretty poorly. I know I can't dictate what they do outside of work, so them leaving him out of social events was out of my hands, but I've caught them calling him just awful things when they thought I wasn't around. I should've come down harder but I was afraid our productivity would suffer as a result. (And if I'm honest, I thought a little bullshit would toughen the kid up. Our industry isn't for the faint of heart, after all.)

But now we're down to the deadline and I think he's our only option. He's the perfect choice, and the kicker is it's BECAUSE he's different from the rest of the guys. But I'd feel like a bit of an ass if I asked him to swoop in and save us after the way everyone's treated him. WIBTA if I asked Rudolph, with his nose so bright, to guide my sleigh tonight? Time-sensitive question, sorry mod, but maybe just this once you can move it up the queue? After all, I did bring you that Pokemon game you wanted more than anything when you were ten!

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #christmas #joke aita #unreality #hey wait hang on how did you know about the pokemon game

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discord-lurking · 4 months

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Dungeons and Daddies Wiki Drama: A Greek Tragedy Told through the Medium of Forum Posts (Part 1)

Prologue

Greek tragedies are typically formatted in three or more acts interspersed with choral interludes, beginning with a prologue, and ending with an exodus. In these, protagonists often meet their downfall due to their fatal flaw, or hamartia: the ways in which the protagonists are their own undoing. Our own human failings are the things that bring us the most pain.

When considering a three-act Greek tragedy structure for this, my first thought was to use the Oresteia as a framing device, a trilogy of plays written by Aeschylus about Agamemnon's family in the aftermath of the Trojan War. Upon reflection, though, the themes of the Oresteia (revenge vs. justice, perpetuating a cycle of violence, honor and punishment) didn't quite fit the story I was trying to tell.

No, this is a classic tale of hubris: excessive pride and its ultimate downfall.

After all, what position could come with more power than that of wiki moderator for a Dungeons and Dragons podcast series?

Act One: The Beginning of the End

The D&Dads wiki has historically been... unhelpful, at best. (Source: Myself.) Trouble had been brewing for a long time.

Forum posts from spring 2022 began noting issues cropping up around the wiki. First, it was a complaint about anonymous users "disrupting" the wiki (specifically on Jodie-related pages) while also fixing mistakes in articles.

I'm unsure what specific "disruptions" were meant, but the proposal to ban anonymous users didn't garner much traction.

March 21st, 2022:

After little activity for months (only one forum post, related to infoboxes), wiki user TwoRatner had a radical proposition: wiki migration.

December 17th, 2022:

TwoRatner suggested an alternate platform that would have different editing options, then made a potentially-prophetic statement: the wiki might be cursed.

This warning went unheeded.

December 27th, 2022:

Ten days after the migration suggestion, TwoRatner came back to ask if there were any recent changes. This went unanswered for months until new user Penguinwithafancytophat reported adding art to character pages (including Glenn, a main season 1 character since the start of the podcast in 2019, who incredibly might not have had any official art on his wiki page before March of 2023).

Spring of 2023 seemed to bring along a revival of the wiki, with new editors coming in, engaging with the forum, and attempting to make suggestions on how to improve wiki organization.

March 31st, 2023:

May 27th, 2023:

July 17th, 2023:

October 2nd, 2023:

Interestingly, the only administrator seen to be interacting with these enthusiastic new editors? Gaycowboyrats. Let's put a pin in that.

Enter: the drama.

It started out simple enough- a forum posts for administrators to discuss changes that needed to be made.

November 3rd, 2023:

76 replies.

Seventy. Six. Replies. Each deeply interesting in its own way.

However, this is a Tumblr post, not an Hbomberguy video essay, so I'll keep it brief.

The discussion started out as one might expect a wiki admin discussion to start:

Mods discussed blocks, deleting stub pages, spam, etc. Standard wiki business.

The first reply to ping my interest:

Removing cast pages from a wiki about their work seemed like an odd decision, in my non-wiki-editor opinion, but the last line is what really stuck out: "Besides, I hate the idea of someone vandalizing the pages to defame them."

Several questions arose for me:

Was this a known problem? Were people constantly vandalizing cast pages?

Would a vandalized fandom wiki page really defame somebody?

Isn't the point of wiki editing to remove vandalization on articles?

The administrators began to stand out to me as deeply invested in a very specific sense of wiki justice.

Users TwoRatner, Brazil86, and TheOneTrueGod41 agreed with Honic's take.

Another thing to ping my interest: these users seemed to share a similar odd, slightly stilted, writing style. Almost Tommy Wiseau-esque.

Brazil86 expressed optimism about users engaging with wiki pages, something that would begin to set them apart from other administrators.

As I read, themes began to emerge: wiki justice, and incongruous one-liners.

Quoth Honic Washington: "I just found a wave of nonsense fish. My backyard is full of them. Hey, TOTG41, do you like jazz? I like jazz."

Truly, modern poetry.

Administrator Marth8204 suggested giving people more time. More time for what? Unclear. It seems a plan was afoot.

TwoRatner came in with a hot take: "I feel like we need a community more right now, than adding links that people can search for in the search bar."

Brazil86 agreed: Changing the navigation was less important than getting people editing and making friends.

Another theme began to emerge: wiki community as more important than wiki functionality.

Gaycowboyrats had some (incredibly reasonable) objections to this, pointing out that the wiki was a resource for many visitors who might not participate- something that is generally true of wikis as a form of content.

Honic Washington responded to this, the signs of wiki-related stress beginning to show.

Honic posts a long rant about the thankless task of moderating a wiki, which goes largely unacknowledged.

Notable TwoRatner quotes:

"You can't crack open a few omelets without punching a few egg-rolls."

"Now Freddie will get more money. What do you all say? I think I helped quite a bit."

Another theme emerges: discontent in the wiki moderator ranks.

Honic reaches full Joker mode. Again, this goes largely unacknowledged.

Honic: "I am leader. I am a painter! Keep your rules. Keep your status. Keep your friends."

"Keep your status"- words that will reverberate throughout the rest of this tale.

The final theme? Wiki moderator status, and the maintenance of it.

After Honic's bomb drop, conversation about regular wiki moderation continued, with mods considering the addition of a bot to make edits.

Admin Discussion Zone, first started by Honic Washington, ends not with a bang but with a whimper.

Over nearly a year of forum posts, patterns emerged.

Firstly- users attempting to engage in the wiki, wiki administrators not engaging with these new users, then wiki administrators bemoaning the lack of user engagement.

The notable exception was Gaycowboyrats, the only wiki administrator to engage with new users in the forums. Gaycowboyrats, the administrator whose (incredibly reasonable) suggestions ended with Honic Washington's villain-esque monologues and denouement as a moderator.

Secondly- administrators putting forth large-scale, drastic solutions to real or perceived wiki problems. This includes Cheesoid4 wanting to ban anonymous users, TwoRatner suggesting site migration, Honic deleting cast pages to prevent vandalism, and more to come.

Thirdly- wiki administrators seeming to share similar styles of speech and occasional non-sequiturs. Interestingly, this mainly seems to include the wiki administrators who agree with each other.

Funny how that happens.

Chorus

Stay tuned for Part 2, where the forum drama really starts to heat up.

#dungeons and daddies

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cherry-holmes · 7 months

Text

Glimpse of a life with Javier Peña (series)

Chapter 1

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: Javier Peña met you while you worked in the Embassy's Translation Department, and now he finds himself wondering why he can't stop thinking about you, even at the most inappropriate moments.

SERIES MASTERLIST Part 2

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!Reader

Word count: +3k

Warnings: SMUT. Javier has sex but not with reader. Oral sex (m receiving). Degradation kink. Cum eating. Fingering. Hair pulling. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: Hola! So… this is the official first chapter of the series “Glimpse of a life with Javier Peña”!! Yeeey

I hope you enjoy it. Thanks a lot for the support in the firsts works of the serie❤️ PLEASE, CHECK ON THE SERIES MASTERLIST FOR LEARN HOW TO READ IT! If you have any questions, my box is always open.

I’m also open for requests.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

He didn't used to take his reports himself to the Embassy's Translation Department, but Messina wanted to punish him for being stubborn and disobedient in the last raid, so she made him take his and Murphy's daily reports to you.

He knocked on the door, with an annoyed look on his face as he was eager to just go home, call one of his informants with the excuse of "catching up", have one or two glasses of whiskey and some cigarettes, and then kick her out of his apartment when they were done. It was a routine as much as brushing his teeth every morning. It wasn't healthy and it was miserable, but it was what it was.

"Come in," said a gentle and tired voice from behind the tallest file holder he had ever seen in his life.

He walked closer to your desk, and then he saw you: a pair of beautiful bright eyes looking up at him behind a pair of reading glasses, a blue dress that perfectly accentuated your breasts and waist effortlessly, but it also didn't reveal anything that could look purposefully vulgar. No, it wasn't your intention; you were professional.

"Umm... Hi," he said, surprised by his suddenly own nervousness towards you. That doesn't happen to him; Javier Peña never felt intimidated by any woman before. Never. But that was before you. He lifted the files in his hand, and you frowned with a cute expression. "Messina asked me to bring these to you," he explained.

"Is it late already?" you asked as you looked at your wristwatch to check the hour, but it was fine, you still had an hour and a half. You looked back at him and reached a hand to take the papers. "I usually go to collect them myself from your desks after I finish my working day... Did she need me to take them earlier?" you asked, a bit worried. You always performed your duties as well as you could, and you had never received a complaint about your working style: you took the reports from the DEA agents at night, translated them the next day, and delivered them to the Colombian Government's office by the evening, then repeated the routine.

"No, no," he was quick to say as he saw your concern, "She was actually making me do it to punish me," he explained, scratching the back of his head.

"Oh..." you exclaimed, "Well, thank you," you said as you placed the file in your pending-file organizer.

Javier couldn't help but notice the attractive woman before him, her beauty and intelligence captivating him. As he handed over the files, he couldn't resist striking up a conversation.

"You know," he began with a charming smile, "I've been around this office for quite some time, it's surprising I haven't crossed paths with you before. I thought I knew everyone here."

You smiled, appreciating his evident charm, but also aware of his reputation. "Well, I tend to keep a low profile," you replied, a hint of playfulness in your tone. "I'm not one to seek the spotlight."

He chuckled softly, his voice lowering playfully, locked onto yours. "Maybe I've just been looking in all the wrong places, then."

Your heart raced a bit as he flirted with you. You had heard about his reputation as a bit of a playboy, and as attracted as you already were to him, you knew better than to let your guard down completely.

"Well, I must say, I'm glad Messina decided to send me your way today. It's refreshing to meet someone so intriguing."

Your blush deepened as his flattery made you smile. You quickly composed yourself and replied, "Thank you, Agent Peña. I'll make sure to handle these reports promptly."

Javier assumed that you knew his name because you worked on his reports. Now he wanted to know yours. "I look forward to seeing you around more, Miss..." He paused, waiting for you to supply your name.

When you do, he repeated your name in a way you had never heard before, as it was the most precious sound he had ever heard.

"Well, it would be a shame to keep such a charming presence hidden away."

You could feel your heart flutter at his words, and you managed to reply with a playful tone, "I'll consider it, Agent Peña. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some translations to attend to."

With a final smile and a parting glance, you turned your attention back to the files, leaving Javier with a lingering sense of curiosity and attraction.

When you were sure he was far from your office, you couldn't help but smile and giggle like a teenage girl. He hadn't seen you before, but surely you had seen him. It was almost impossible not to know about Javier Peña, the DEA agent who was a complete playboy, the one almost every woman in the office talked about. You had seen him from a distance before, and you always thought he was handsome, but you never attempted to get closer to him. You never thought he would cross the threshold of your office either.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

That night, Javier called Helena and took her on his couch, as usual. She gave him everything he wanted just as she knew how he liked it. It was completely obscene, it was sinful. That was how he liked it.

Helena offered her head to please him. Moving up and down along his length, filthy noises filling his living room as he gripped her hair tightly.

Javier tried his best to concentrate on her mouth, but his mind kept drifting to you. What's even weirder was that he wasn't even thinking about you for that purpose. No, he was thinking of your blushed cheeks when he flirted with you, your shiny eyes, and that dress... How would it feel to kiss you? To touch your soft hair? How would it be to feel your skin against his, to trace every contour of your body with his lips?

Well, now he was thinking about you in that way. He couldn't help it, and it made him feel guilty, to be honest. He didn't really know you beyond your name, and thinking about you while another woman was giving him a blowjob wasn't morally right.

Helena kept doing her job, taking him deeply into her throat until her nose rubbed his pubic hair, licking his heavy balls, spitting on it, choking on it. Javier told himself that he must get you out of his mind. So he did.

Pulling her hair, he lifted her head to him so he could see the mess she did. Teary eyes looking at him full of lust and sin, saliva dripping down her chin until it landed on her bare breasts. She was a whore, he liked that.

"En el sillón," he ordered as he stood up. Helena obeyed and climb to the couch, settling her arms on the backrest and offering her ass. He slapped her and she moan in the middle of a giggle. He passed his fingers between her soaking wet folds. "Estás muy mojadita, ¿todo eso solo por chuparme la verga?," he played.

She giggle again. Fuck, she liked him so damn much.

"Tienes una verga muy rica," she answered.

Javier grabbed her hips and pulled her closer to him as he grabbed his cock to position it on her entrance.

"I've heard about that," he groaned as he buried himself on her pussy, making her cried with pleasure.

He began to thrust into her without giving truce. His hand gripped her hair, forcing her to throw her head back so he can see her features lost in pleasure and ecstasy. Javier could feel her fluids soaking his balls as they hit on her clit so hard, making a vulgar, filthy sound that echoed through the apartment.

"Fucking whore," he groaned, making her fluid run like a river down her legs. She liked when he speaks English to her. "You liked that, whore? Mhm?," she nodded, "Respóndeme cuando te hablo, puta," he demanded.

"Si... oh, mier..., ¡Si, si, Javier!," she screamed, "¡Que rico, no pares!," she begged as her fingers clung to the chair in search of balance.

He was completely wild, lost in her. Helena didn't know exactly why; he never talked to her about his working day or his problems. But she did know that when he was that desperate, it was because a very complicated day had preceded him.

Javier was so close, he could feel it in his balls and the knot that tightened in his lower belly. He could also feel that she was about to finish too, by the way her cunt started to dripped even more and how she clenched around his cock.

He pulled out of her, pumping himself, and then pulled her by the arm to guide her off the couch.

"De rodillas," he said. She kneel in front of him and opened her mouth nice and wide for him. "Make yourself cum," he ordered her.

After a few strokes, Javier cum with a a deep growl all over her tongue. Helena pumped two of her own fingers in and out of her sensitive pussy, and used her other hand to traced circles on her swollen clit. The moment she felt his warm load on her mouth, she started to quivering with pleasure, reaching her own climax.

"Let me see," he grabbed her chin, squeezing her cheeks so she wouldn't close her mouth. "Such a nice slut," he praised. He slapped her and she smiled evilly. "Trágatelo."

She would do anything he asked of her, and Javier knew it. He wasn't proud, but he often took advantage of that for two purposes: to satisfy his most primitive desires and to fulfill the needs of his job by obtaining valuable information about the sicarios and the cartel. Helena was a prostitute, which made her perfect for the job.

The sicarios had the same needs as any other men; they enjoyed sex and didn't mind paying for it. And since nobody paid attention to the whore they hired, they could infiltrate cartel parties, listen to their conversations, and seduce them to gather information in an inconspicuous way.

That was what Helena did: she gathered information from every sicario that hired her services and handed it all over to Javier. He trusted her because she was loyal. She also trusted him; she even gave him her real name and sometimes mentioned her daughter.

Javier hated it when she did that. He didn't want to know too much about her life, but he pretended to listen anyway. She was a single mother and, of course, didn't like her job. But it paid the bills and, most importantly, it provided her daughter with food and clothes.

Javier didn't like to pay for sex. Money implied pretense, which could lead to betrayal. Prostitutes would say what you wanted to hear, do what you wanted them to do, as long as you paid, of course. You couldn't trust them blindly, but in the context of Javier's work, if not them, then who?

Moreover, he believed that there was nothing like a woman who engaged in pleasure willingly. He was a handsome man and a cop, which was incredibly enticing and attractive to every woman he encountered. He did pay for the information they provided, and when they offered their services just because they were "already there," he didn't say no. Especially Helena; she was his favorite.

After using his bathroom to clean up, Helena walked half-naked to the kitchen while Javier lounged on his couch, a cigarette in his mouth and a glass of whiskey in his hand.

"¿Qué me ofreces de tomar?" she asked, taking a clean glass from the sink.

"Whiskey o agua de la llave," he answered as he light up the cigarette.

"Agüita, pues," she replied in a lower tone. She would never admit it, not to Javier, but deep down, she always hoped he would offer her a coffee and ask her to stay. He never did, and he never would. She would say no anyway; she had to pick up her daughter from her mother's place.

Javier took a sip of his whiskey and decided to steer the conversation toward business. "By the way, Helena, I was wondering if you've heard anything new about the cartel lately? You know, anything that might be relevant for us."

She nodded and leaned against the kitchen counter. "Yeah, there's been some chatter. They seem to be making a move down in Cali, and there are rumors about a new player on the scene. They call him 'El Fantasma.'"

"El Fantasma, huh?" Javier raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. We'll have to keep an eye on that." He reached for his wallet, pulled out some bills, and handed them to her.

Helena didn't like that part of their encounters because she felt like he was paying for the sex, not for the information. She had made it clear to him that "if you were my client, you would pay me first," just to let him know that she had sex with him because she liked him. She never rejected the money, though; she had a daughter.

As Helena finished her glass of water, she began to gather her things. "Well, Javier, I should get going. I need to pick up my daughter."

He nodded, his attention briefly diverted to the TV. "Sure, Helena. Thanks for the information."

She approached him, hoping for a warm goodbye, and leaned in to kiss his cheek. "Take care, Javier. Stay safe out there."

But instead of returning her gesture, he instinctively pulled away, avoiding her kiss. It was a reflex, something he couldn't control. "Yeah, you too," he mumbled, his eyes focused on the television.

Helena felt a pang of hurt but quickly masked it with a forced smile. "Alright, then. Buenas noches, Javier."

"Buenas noches," he replied, still focused on the TV.

She turned and left his apartment, trying to shake off the feeling of rejection, knowing that she was just another transaction in his complicated world.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The Embassy's kitchen was an unexpected haven of calm amidst the chaos of daily operations. Javier, after a particularly grueling morning meeting, spotted you entering with purpose, a silent promise of coffee and respite. Perhaps it was the allure of a caffeine boost or a subconscious attraction that led him to follow you.

Unconsciously, he trailed behind, navigating the labyrinthine hallways of the office until he found himself standing next to you by the coffee machine. As he poured his own coffee, a wave of regret washed over him. He didn't want to be the type of guy who awkwardly followed someone around. Besides, how was he going to look at you after thinking about you the night before while he was involved with another woman? You deserved so much more than that.

He watched as you reached for a coffee mug, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafting through the air. Just as he was contemplating a hasty retreat, you turned, almost as if sensing his presence, and smiled at him. Javier mentally cursed himself for being so transparent.

"Morning," you greeted warmly, holding your coffee cup in your hand.

Javier cleared his throat and replied, "Morning," with a faint smile.

As you leaned against the counter while preparing your coffee, you engaged him in conversation. "So, how's it going with the reports today?"

Javier was surprised by your friendly tone and felt a bit awkward about the fact that he'd been trailing you, but he decided to go along with it. "Ah, you know, the usual. Paperwork and chasing leads. It's a never-ending cycle."

You chuckled, "Sounds like a tough gig."

"It has its moments," Javier admitted, feeling slightly more at ease. "But I can't complain."

The two of you continued chatting about work, the latest developments in the field, and more. As the conversation flowed, Javier began to appreciate your intelligence and wit. You weren't just another pretty face in the office; you had substance and depth.

"You have a curious accent," he pointed out, breaking a brief silence as you took a bite of a cookie. "Can I know where are you from?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Javier wasn't one to dig into personal information about colleagues, or in general. Not even with his partner, Steve Murphy. Let alone with any woman; he preferred to keep such matters separate.

"I'm from Mexico, actually," you answered, lifting your chin with pride in your roots. Javier was on the verge of smirking but refrained. There was something about you, the way you spoke and articulated things with your delicate hands, that had him captivated.

Javier hesitated for a moment, unaccustomed to discussing his personal life with colleagues. He thought, fuck it. "My family is also from Mexico," he admitted.

You raised your elegant eyebrows, "Well, I guess 'Javier Peña' has to come from somewhere."

His smile couldn't be contained. "My father's grandparents were from Reynosa, Tamaulipas," he explained, "and my mother's parents were from Ciudad Juárez, Chihuahua."

"So your parents were born in America?" you inquired.

He nodded, "Texas. And so was I."

You opened your lips, ready to say something else, when the tall and blond figure of Murphy interrupted you. He had a file in his hand and a hurried expression. Steve looked at Javier and then at you, lifting his eyebrows when his gaze returned to Peña.

"Messina approved the raid," he said with a slight nod.

Javier straightened up, his broad shoulders becoming firm and resolute. Suddenly, he looked taller and more imposing, you thought.

"I'm gonna grab my gun, and I'll see you in the parking lot," Javier informed Murphy, who nodded and, after one last glance in your direction, turned around and left the kitchen.

"I'm sorry, I've got to..." he began, looking at you.

"It's okay," you replied, holding your coffee cup. Then, after a brief hesitation, you added, "Take care of yourself, Javier."

The sentence warmed his chest, and he felt a warmth that almost reached his cheeks. He nodded, not quite sure what to say, and then left the room.

But as he walked away, there was a moment of realization. You had extended a friendly gesture, an opportunity to get to know each other better, and he had responded with genuine interest.

Maybe, just maybe, Javier Peña wasn't that hijo de puta that everyone said he was.

NEXT CHAPTER

#pedro pascal #fanfic #narcos #pedro pascal x reader #javier pena smut #javier pena x you #javier peña #javierpeña x reader #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x female reader #javier peña smut #javier peña fic #javier peña x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x y/n #javier pena x reader

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