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joelsgreys · 1 year

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Just Friends (Javier Peña x Female Reader)

Part 2

Summary: You’re planning to have sex for the first time and you’re nervous—Javi offers to show you a thing or two, but just as friends of course.

Pairing: Javier Peña x Female Reader

Warnings/Tags 🏷 18+ only, minors dni. reader is in late 20’s; reader is an agent for the DEA; established friendship, idiots in love lust, overprotective/slightly jealous Javi; Javi is his canon manwhore self, reader is a virgin, talks of virginity loss and her desire for no strings attached sex, a bit of pining and yearning, lots of pet names, a couple insults, friendship fluff; touching, groping, dry humping, reader gets off, Javi does not. I know, I know. I will make it up to him in part dos. this does not follow the timeline of the show accurately, Messina is in the picture, Connie is still around. reader is bilingual, no descriptions of her race or ethnicity mentioned though. *translations at the end.

Word Count: 7.9k

A/N: This took me forever to edit and post because I’m scared lmao.

thank you to @cutesyscreenname for encouraging me to write this idea. I owe you cherry gansitos!

You observed your own reflection in the full length mirror in front of you and let out a curious little hum as you lifted the short, scarlet red minidress, holding it right up against the length of your body. You then held up the second dress that you had clutched in your opposite hand, a stunning, satin black midi number whose length was a lot longer than the first option, the hem of it falling down to your calves.

It appeared rather innocent, modest enough while it was still on the plastic hanger, but it fit you beautifully, just like a fucking glove. The bodice of the garment cinched at your waist and it was tightly fitted, hugging the curves of your upper body so closely that it looked and even felt like something of a second skin whenever you wore it. The billowy skirt of the dress flowed out around you, darling and sweet at first glance, however it came with a borderline dangerous slit in the side of it that stopped about two or three inches above the middle of your thigh near the hinge of your hip. It exposed the entire length of your leg whenever you walked, danced, or moved around in it—Murphy had once referred to it as the infamous femme fatale dress, telling you that it was a far, far more dangerous weapon than your gun could ever be.

You were fairly certain his remarks had something to do with the fact that you’d worn the dress on a number of different occasions while you were out on the job, going undercover in Bogotá for the US Drug Enforcement Administration.

As the only female agent on her team in Colombia and a younger, very beautiful female agent at that, Messina found herself using you to her advantage quite often these days. She would send you out all over Bogotá in that very same black dress with the hope that it would aid you in luring in members of the Medellín drug cartel in efforts to capture their leader, Pablo Escobar.

Tonight, however, you weren’t going undercover.

You were doing something much more frightening than mingling among some of Colombia’s most dangerous men.

Far, far more daunting than that.

You were going out on a date.

“I like the red dress the best,” Javier’s deep voice came from behind you, startling you slightly. He had mentioned to you earlier that day that he was going to some lounge with Murphy for a smoke and some drinks after work hours since it had been a long, draining week for him at the office; Messina had stuck him with an endless amount of tedious paperwork to do and it had just about driven him insane, but nothing a pack of cigarettes and some bourbon couldn’t fix. With the soft, Latin cumbias playing from the old stereo perched on top of the white oak dresser beside you, you had completely missed the sound of the front door opening and closing when he’d gotten home.

You glanced over your shoulder to see him standing there in the open doorway with his arms crossed over his chest. Javier’s dark brown eyes were fixed intently on you, a small, devilish smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he casually leaned up against the door frame of your bedroom. Well, technically, it was actually the guest bedroom of his apartment unit that he’d let you take over several months ago. The housing department of the agency had placed you into a unit in the building across the street from his, right next door to Murphy and his wife, Connie. It had been a special arrangement requested by your diligent supervisor in an effort to make sure that no one found themselves in a compromising situation—she trusted you enough not to get any dumb ideas, but she didn’t trust Peña as far as she could throw him. It wasn’t very far.

While it had certainly been quite nice, and even kind of comforting at times to have Steve and Connie as your neighbors, you’d expressed to Javier one night over dinner at his place that you weren’t all too fond of having to live alone. Without an ounce of hesitation on his part, Javi offered to have you move into his spare bedroom that very same evening after you were both done eating, but only on the condition that Messina didn’t find out about the new living arrangement. She would wring Javier’s neck with her bare hands if knew that you two had been sharing his apartment this entire time.

Hell, she would wring yours too. And you were the favorite child of sorts. Less annoying than Murphy and certainly a lot less problematic than Peña.

She only liked you because she never had to worry about you. On or off the job.

But even though you were Messina’s number one, her star player, that would do absolutely nothing to spare you from her wrath if she ever came to find out that you were living with Javier Peña. She wasn’t a fan of just how close the two of you had become over the last several months; she’d told you herself that she much preferred it if you kept your distance from him while you were off duty. One wrong move on your part or Javi’s and it was game fucking over. Messina wouldn’t hesitate to send one of your asses packing, back home to be assigned somewhere else, somewhere far away from the other.

Pursing your lips together lightly, you turned your attention back over to the mirror. Raising an eyebrow, you lifted the red minidress up against your body once more to get another good look at it, as if you hadn’t just been staring at it for the last five minutes before he’d appeared. “I don’t know, Javi. I don’t like this one all that much to be honest. I’m not even sure why the hell I let Connie talk me into buying it in the first place. She said it was cute,” You remarked, tilting your head slightly to the side. You wrinkled your nose at the diamond cut out design in the sides of it. Whoever designed it must have not had enough money to spring for more a teensy bit more fabric. “But it’s kind of tacky. And it makes me look like a whore.”

“Mm yes, but a very beautiful whore,” Javi stated, his smirk widening as he drank in the gorgeous sight of you before him. He licked his lips, openly admiring the way you were clad in nothing but one of his shirts, his pink button up with short sleeves that you had once told him you loved so much because it was your favorite color; you’d sneakily stolen it out of his closet on laundry day a couple weeks back while all of your clothes had been in the washing machine and had never given it back to him. Not that Javier even really wanted it back at this point—his shirt looked a million times better on you than ever it did on him. Seeing you in it did inexplicable things to him and he fucking loved it when you padded around your now shared apartment in nothing but a pair of panties and his pink shirt. He took another glimpse at you, nearly foaming at the mouth at how it fit your frame, how the hem of it fell to the tops of your smooth thighs, the material hardly doing anything to cover up the tantalizing curves of your hips and your perfect ass. “Hermosura. The most beautiful whore in all of Colombia.”

You narrowed your eyes at him through the mirror, wishing you had a free hand you could flip him off with. “Gee, thanks for the compliment, Peña. You are always such a fucking charmer, aren’t you?”

“Oh, come on. Solo es una bromita, muñeca. No tienes por qué ofenderte. I’m just messing around with you. You know I don’t think you actually look like a whore—and trust me, I know what a whore looks like,” he responded with a deep and hearty laugh. He uncrossed his arms, allowing them to fall down to his sides as he pushed himself away from the door frame. He sauntered his way further into your bedroom, uninvited. “I’m being serious about the dress, though. Go with the red one. El vestido rojo. It’s perfect. Besides, that color would look gorgeous on you, cariño. I bet it would look almost as good on you as pink does.” He laughed again as he added, “Nice shirt, by the way.”

Your annoyed expression immediately softened into one of guilt. “I’ve been meaning to give you your shirt back,” You told him, sheepishly. “Te lo juro, Javi.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you have,” Javier snorted, waving off the little white lie. He finally forced himself to tear his attention away from you and glanced around, observing the current state of your room instead. It looked like a tornado had hit the inside of your closet; dresses, jackets, and high heeled shoes were strewn all over the place. He wasn’t all too surprised by the mess. He knew you like he knew the back of his own hand by now, and this was typical of you when you were searching for the perfect outfit to wear on a free night out in the city. “I don’t remember you telling me you had any plans tonight, bonita. What’s the occasion? Going out for drinks with the chismosas of the office? Or are you going out for a girl’s night with Connie?”

You momentarily hesitated.

“Actually, I have a date.”

Through the mirror, you saw the smile fade from Javier’s face almost instantly.

Here we go, You thought inwardly to yourself.

“You have a date? With who?” he demanded.

Reluctantly, you turned around to face him. “You know Valeria, don’t you?”

The color drained from his face.

“That’s the translator who works up on the third floor, right?” He touched his hand to the back of his neck, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know her, but I’ve seen her around a couple of times.”

You almost laughed at the manner in which Javier tried playing dumb.

Of course he knew Valeria.

He had fucked her three weeks ago.

Javi had tried to keep it on the down low, but loud mouthed Valeria would brag to anyone who would listen all about how Agent Peña had fucked her in her office one evening while they’d been working late together and everyone else had gone home. Not that Javier even needed her services as a translator, he’d just needed an excuse to find himself in her office after hours so he could get his dick wet.

For some strange reason, you felt oddly fucking generous and decided to let Javier have this one, playing along with him and his sheer stupidity. “Yeah, her. She has an older brother who’s visiting the city for a few days. His name is Diego. He’s an immigration attorney who is here on business in Bogotá. She offered to set me up with him,” You explained, keeping everything as brief as possible. “I’m meeting him for drinks tonight.”

Javier frowned. “Have you met him in person?”

“Well no, but Valeria showed me his picture and she told me all about him. It’s not like he’s just some random ass guy I met on the street, Javi. He’s her brother, she advocated for him,” You tried to reason with him, knowing all too well where this conversation was heading. Sure, it was nice to know that Javier cared about you enough to be concerned about you meeting up with someone who was essentially a complete stranger, but it wasn’t like you couldn’t handle yourself. You’d spent many evenings sitting right in the laps of the violent criminals who worked for Escobar—a blind date with a coworker’s brother was nothing for him to make a fuss over. “I really don’t think that I have anything to worry about with him.”

He rigidly shook his head. “Look, no offense to Valeria, but I don’t like the idea of you running around this city at night with some fucking prick that you’ve never even met before. And before you throw all that undercover bullshit at me, just know that it’s not the same thing. You aren’t going out on the job tonight. You’re not going out with your team on standby to watch your back, you’re not going out with me and Murphy armed and ready to jump into action if things head south. What if something happens to you?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes at the complete and utter ridiculousness of his drama king antics. “Oh, give me a fucking break, Peña. Diego’s not a member of the fucking cartel, he’s a lawyer. And besides that, you’re acting like I can’t take care of myself.”

“Listen, I know damn good and well that you can take care of yourself just fine, muñeca. But still, that doesn’t make me feel any better about this whole arrangement.” Javier’s hands went to his waist and he let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head once again. “I’m going to need to meet this guy before you go out with him. I don’t care whose fucking brother he is—whichever way you try to spin it, the bottom line is that he’s a still a fucking stranger and I want to check him out for myself before I let you go out with him.” He saw the mischievous twinkle in your eyes and peered at you suspiciously. “Please tell me he’s coming to pick you up here at the apartment.”

You laughed. “Of course not, Javi. I’m not stupid. I already knew you would behave like this. I knew you would go straight into overprotective mode, just like you always do. I didn’t want you scaring him off, so I’m taking a taxi cab and we’re meeting up at the bar instead.” You easily clocked the all too familiar glint in his eye and smiled sweetly at him. “And don’t even think about trying to guess which one it is so that you can show up and keep tabs on me the whole night. There are thousands of bars in this damn city and I can promise you that you’re not smart enough to figure out which one we’re going to, Agent Peña.”

Annoyed by the smugness in your tone and the way it was starting to get under his skin, Javier’s lips pressed into a thin, tight line. He watched you walk over to your closet, subtly swaying your hips to the music as you pulled out yet another dress to add to your rapidly growing list of options.

He could feel the envy prickling at each and every last single nerve ending in his entire body, his frustrations stewing at the mere thought of you going out with another man. His jaw clenched and he forced himself to shove the feeling down knowing damn well that he didn’t have the right to be jealous. Not when you two weren’t anything more than just friends.

If you’d just been a coworker, it would be different.

Javier would gladly, happily, risk mixing business with pleasure as he had so often done in the past with several secretaries—and a translator or two—in his time. But no matter how hard he’d tried over and over again to place you into that box, into that category, he simply couldn’t bring himself to do it.

You weren’t just his coworker, you were his friend.

His best friend.

For as much shit as he gave you, you mattered to him. You were important to him, way too important to ever risk fucking up your friendship by fucking you.

Still. Javier would be lying if he said he didn’t think about it. He thought about it all the damn time. When he discovered that fucking himself into the palm of his hand and moaning your name quietly over and over again under his breath didn’t quite do the job for him anymore, he would find himself standing outside of your bedroom prepared to say fuck it all and make his move on you. But then it happened every single fucking time without fail—as soon as he lifted his curled fist to knock on your door, he started to remember things.

He’d remember the way you could so easily make him laugh with your clever and quick witted sense of humor. He remembered all those late nights you two would spend together lounging on his brown leather couch in your pajamas watching old, poorly made slasher films while indulging in the greasiest, unhealthiest takeout Bogotá had to offer. He remembered how you could read him just like a fucking magazine, how you always knew when something was wrong—and how you would always somehow know exactly what to say and do to comfort him whenever he needed it the most.

He would remember how you’d come to feel like his home away from home.

And then he would drop his hand right back down to his side, whirl around on his heel, and march straight back into his bedroom where he had little choice but to go back to fantasizing about what could never be between you and him.

Snapping himself out of his own train of thought, Javier carefully stepped over the mountains of clothing and shoes on the floor and made his way over to another pile of dresses that were draped over the foot of your bed. He caught a glimpse of the lingerie set on top of them, brand new with the price tag still attached to the fabric; the set was black, made of delicate, see through lace that would leave very little to the imagination when you put it on. He picked up the thong, hooking the thin elastic of it around his index finger. “Something tells me that you’re not planning on coming back home tonight.”

“What are you talking about?” Confused, you turned around and gasped, dropping the dresses in your hands. “Javier!”

“Are these even going to cover anything up?” he teased you with a laugh, his eyes gleaming with pure amusement as they darted between the thong and the lower half of your body. “Falta mucha tela, cariño.”

You rushed up to him and made a dive for the underwear. “Give me those!”

“How come you don’t ever wear anything like this around the apartment, hermosa?” Javi dangled them above your head and out of your reach. “All I ever get to see you in are those cotton panties, the ones with polka dots on them.” He glanced down, getting an eyeful of you and the aforementioned polka dot panties. “Kind of like the ones you’re wearing now—”

“Javier, cut it out!” You placed a hand on his shoulder as the other continued grabbing for the lingerie. “Come on, stop being such a fucking asshole!”

Although he could have easily enjoyed taunting you for hours and hours on end, Javier knew you wouldn’t hesitate to have your knee meet his balls. Not wanting to risk ending up on your floor curled up in pain, he eased up and handed them over to you.

“Idiota!” You hissed at him, furiously snatching the underwear out of his hand. You stomped over to your dresser and shoved them into the middle drawer, slamming it closed so hard the old stereo nearly went crashing to the floor. “You can be a real fucking douchebag, Peña.”

Javier wasn’t bothered by the insults; he’d grown used to those—however any trace of playfulness vanished as the reality began to set in for him. The reality of you sleeping with another a man tonight. “Wait a minute, are you really planning to fuck the guy?” He didn’t even make the attempt to mask the disappointment that laced his tone. “I mean, you haven’t even met him yet. I didn’t think you were that kind of girl, querida.”

“You sound awful judgmental for someone who brings home a different escort every other fucking week,” You snapped at him, placing your hands on your hips. “Oh, and speaking of escorts, I had the pleasure of meeting Alessandra in the bathroom this morning. She asked if I had a tank top that she could borrow since apparently you got too eager and ripped her shirt off last night.” You tilted your head, squinting at him as he started shuffling uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “If you happen to go back to her for a second round, tell her that I want it back. Washed.”

Javier grimaced, looking down at the floor. “Shit. I thought she would be gone by the time you woke up,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “Lo siento, bonita. I’m sorry.”

You blinked. “Sorry for what?”

He opened his mouth, then clamped it shut.

Javier wasn’t all too sure, actually.

He didn’t have anything to apologize for, not really.

He was a single man who could do as, and who, he pleased.

Yet he still felt like a pile of dog shit knowing you’d encountered Alessandra while he had still been asleep.

You would never admit it, but Javier knew that to some extent, it hurt you to run into the women he would bring home. As if having to hear him railing them on the other side of your bedroom wall for hours wasn’t bad enough, having to meet them the following morning and seeing them half naked with their smeared makeup and disheveled hair from the previous night’s activities only made it so much fucking worse.

Having read his mind, you sighed and offered him some reassurance. “It’s fine, Javi. We both know that you don’t have anything to be sorry for,” You said, prompting him to look back up at you. You pointed a finger at him. “I do want my shirt back, though. And then maybe I’ll be nice and give you back yours.”

You expected Javi to scamper off to his room with his tail between his legs in shame. It was what he usually did—he’d avoid you for about a few hours until the dust settled, and then everything would go back to normal. Instead of running off, he stood there and spoke again.

“Are you really going to have sex with this guy?”

You tried to ignore how disheartened he sounded.

“I don’t know,” You confessed, quietly. “I want to have sex with him, but I don’t know if I’ll actually have the fucking balls to go through with it.”

“Por qué? Estas nerviosa?”

Though Javier hadn’t been poking fun at you, you couldn’t help but feel irritated with him for asking you if you were nervous; because you actually were nervous, and him asking you only made you even more fucking nervous. “And so what if I am a little nervous?” You challenged him, lightly. “Sorry that we’re not all just confidently fucking our way through this city like you are, Peña.”

“When’s the last time you had sex, anyway?”

“None of your fucking business, that’s when,” You quipped.

“That’s not fair.” Javi pouted at you. “You know when the last time I had sex was.”

“Not by choice,” You retorted. “You’re right on the other side of my paper thin wall and I left my Walkman in the office.”

Javi waited expectantly for an answer. He wasn’t going to drop the subject, and you knew that.

“You’re such a stubborn son of a bitch, you know that?” You muttered. Feeling a burning heat flood to your face, you decided to give him just about the most generic answer there was in order to get him off your back. “It was a long, long time ago.”

“Okay, but how long ago?” He pressed, curiously. “Are we talking weeks? Months?”

Your stomach began to churn violently, the hidden secret you’d kept to yourself for your entire adult life now at risk of being exposed.

“I-I really don’t remember,” You stammered out in response, averting your gaze away from his. “Can we not talk about my sex life, please? Besides, it’s getting late and I still need to take a shower and get ready for my date tonight. So if you would just kindly fuck all the way off, that would be great.”

Javier took a step back and there was a very brief moment where you had been certain you’d just narrowly avoided what could have been a painful, humiliating conversation. However, just as he was about to turn to leave, Javi’s eyes widened as it slowly clicked into place for him.

“Wait a minute—are you fucking serious?”

You groaned. “Javier, please don’t. For the sake of what’s left of my sanity, please don’t,” You nearly pleaded him, wishing that a large, Twilight Zone style swirling vortex would open up in the middle of your floor and swallow you whole.

“You’ve never had sex before,” he realized. “Have you?”

Your face felt like it had caught on fire.

Not knowing what to say or even do, you clasped your hands together and wrung them anxiously in front of you.

Of all the people to find out your secret, it just had to be Peña.

“Cariño, are you really a virgin?”

Surprised, you looked up at him.

Javi wasn’t teasing you or being a dick about it.

He seemed genuinely perplexed by the fact that you’d never had sex before. Not that it made it any less mortifying.

“Yes,” You admitted, exhaling the breath that you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding in. “I’m a virgin, alright? There, are you satisfied?”

“But how? Going undercover? And informants—”

Despite the circumstances, you couldn’t help but laugh. “I know this might come as a shock to you, but you don’t always have to fuck your informants to get what you need out of them, Peña. It’s not a requirement. I use my brains, not my body.”

“You’re shaming me for using my body?” he joked lightly, hoping it would further ease the awkward nature of the conversation—for your sake, not his.

“Just a little bit.” You offered him a small, crooked smile and felt your tense shoulders finally begin to relax. “You’re probably going to think it’s stupid or maybe even crazy, but the truth is that I’ve always wanted to wait and give it to the right man. Maybe even to a man that I’m in love with. But with the way my romantic life has been going, it just seems like that’s never going to happen for me.” You shrugged. “I just want to lose it already, Javi. I’m almost in my fucking thirties—either I lose it now, or I may as well throw in the damn towel and join a convent.”

“You would look kind of cute in a nun’s habit,” Javi mused, thoughtfully.

You shot him a glare, but felt the corners of your mouth threatening to turn up into another smile.

After a long minute, Javier broke the silence that had fallen over the both of you. “So then, Valeria’s older brother is the man you’re going to lose your virginity to? Tonight?”

“That’s the plan. He’s only here until the end of the week. It’d be no strings attached, so it works out perfectly.” You anxiously chewed on the inside of your cheek. “But only if I can find the courage to actually go through with it.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“Not knowing what to do.”

Javier quirked an eyebrow. “It’s not exactly rocket science, querida.”

You resisted the sudden urge to go up to him and backhand the stupid smirk right off of his face.

“Could you please just take me seriously for one second, Peña?” You huffed out in frustration. “I’m just really fucking nervous about it, alright? What if I can’t—what if I’m not good at it?”

Javi’s bottom lip rolled between his teeth and he stifled his laughter. “Preciosa, you’re being kind of…” He trailed off, trying to choose his next word carefully.

You lifted your chin. “Kind of what?”

“Ridiculous. And before you come over here and start pummeling me to death with those little fists of yours...” He stopped and held up his hands in defense. He took a second or two to let eyes glaze over you from head to toe. “I’m only saying that because you’re fucking gorgeous, muñequita. Any man would be lucky to have a night with you. You have nothing to be afraid of.”

“It’s not about how I look, Javier. It’s about how I perform.” You felt your face grow hot for what had to be the umpteenth time in the last ten minutes. Never did you think this would be a conversation you’d be having with him of all fucking people. “I listen to the way those women you bring home—I hear what they do to you. And I hear how much you like it.”

His lips parted slightly. “And you want to do that to him?”

“I want to make him feel good.”

Javier’s jealously simmered in his veins. But what could he do?

Nothing, that’s what. Just like him, you could do as, and who, you pleased. But if he could just get his hands on you first, at least to some extent, it would help ease the blow. He saw nothing wrong with blurring the lines, so long as he didn’t cross them.

Javi hummed. “If you really want to know how to make a man feel good, I can help you.”

“You can help me?” You repeated. “How?”

“By showing you a thing or two.”

You let out something mixed between a scoff and a laugh.

“I am not having sex with you, Peña.”

He tossed you an innocent look. “That’s not what I was suggesting at all.” He crossed the bedroom and walked over to you, reaching for your hands. He took them in his own and then started pulling you towards your bed. “If you’re really that worried about not knowing what to do, I can give you a few pointers. And calmada, querida. Our clothes stay on,” he reassured you before you could open your mouth to protest. “Just think of it as a friend helping out a friend. There’s nothing wrong with that, right?”

You chewed on your lower lip. “I don’t know about this, Javi.”

Javier’s thumbs softly smoothed across the back of your hands. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Right now, I’m not so sure that I do.” You paused long enough for him to throw you an exasperated, almost offended look. You rolled your eyes at him and nodded your head. “Yes, of course I trust you, Peña. I trust you with my fucking life. Literally, I put my life in your hands at least once or twice a week.”

“Then let me help you, hermosa.”

You inhaled a deep breath, held it for a moment, then exhaled it softly. “Fine. But remember, our clothes stay on—” You were cut off, all the air leaving your lungs as Javi yanked you forward, slamming you against his chest. You looked up at him, ready to give him a piece of your mind for knocking the wind out of you, but as his eyes met yours, words failed you and all you could do was stare at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

This could not possibly end well.

And yet here you were, going along with it.

He snaked an arm around your waist, holding your body flush against his. Feeling how tense you had become, stiff as a fucking board, Javi gave you a light shake in an effort to get you to loosen up a bit. “First thing is first, you need to relax. There’s no need to overthink this, cariño. Especially not with me.” He reached up with his opposite hand, letting his index finger feather along your jawline. He then slipped it underneath your chin, lifting it ever so slightly and forcing you to look right into his rich pools of espresso. “I mean it. It really wouldn’t take much for a beautiful girl like you to drive me—I mean, drive him wild.”

You tried your hardest to keep your voice from trembling, but between his touch and being in such close proximity, you were finding it a hell of a lot more difficult than you’d imagined. “Show me, Peña. What drives you—I mean, what’s going to drive him wild?”

“Well, it always starts with the right kiss.”

You quickly shook your head. “Javi—”

“Kiss me.”

Had he lost his fucking mind?

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” You echoed your thoughts

“Just a friend helping out a friend,” Javi reminded you in a murmur. “Remember?”

You should have said no. You should have decked him for even suggesting such a thing.

Instead, you gave him a small nod. You rested your hands delicately on his hard, lean chest and tilted your head upwards, lightly pressing your lips to his for a split second before quickly pulling away.

“There.”

“That was fucking pathetic,” Javier laughed softly, his warm breath fanning over the tip of your nose. “You’re not kissing your abuela, you know.”

You smacked his chest. “Javi! Leave my grandma out of this.”

“You have to kiss a man like you actually want him, querida. Here, allow me to demonstrate.”

Your throat went dry as his grip around your waist tightened. He moved his other hand away from your chin and it went to the back of your neck, gingerly tilting your head up towards his. Your heart hammered almost painfully against your ribcage, beating way too hard and way too fast for him not to feel it against his own chest. You had to silently remind yourself to breathe as Javi inched his face closer to yours, slowly. You knew that he was doing it on purpose, moving an agonizingly glacial pace to allow your anticipation to build; all the while his dark eyes were staring deeply into the depths of your very fucking soul, causing a fire to set ablaze deep in your lower belly.

Your thighs clenched together involuntarily as the tip of his nose skimmed a spot near the corner of your mouth, his lips brushing the underside of your jawline.

God, he was fucking good.

“Javi…” You uttered his name weakly.

You needed to stop this. Javier was your friend—friends didn’t do shit like this.

Javi sensed your reluctance. “It’s alright, mi vida,” he whispered, uttering an affectionate pet name that he’d never used before. He gave you a small grin as he moved in to finally close the small gap of space between your faces. His lips met yours and every ridiculous cliché of sparks flying and fireworks exploding occurred the moment they did. His tongue swept across your bottom lip, gently coaxing its way into your mouth to begin a slow, sensual dance with yours. Cupping the back of your neck, he tilted your head up a bit further, granting himself better access to your mouth so that he could fully explore it inch by inch.

There was kissing other men.

And then there was kissing Javier.

Whimpering, your body melted against his as he swelled your lips with a kiss that was slow and sensual, yet somehow still hungry and possessive at the same time. Javier’s hands travelled down to your hips, his fingers skimming the hem of his shirt that you wore. He took the opportunity to sneak them underneath the garment, allowing them to meet the warmth of your skin.

Gasping, you jerked back and pulled away from him.

“Javier!” You squeaked out his name breathlessly, furiously swatting his hands away from your sides. You glared at him. “I thought we agreed, our clothes fucking stay on!”

“Funny, I wasn’t aware that I was taking any of your clothes off.” Javier reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. He then took a step backwards and gestured towards your bed. “Lay down.”

Your mouth fell open at his request.

“W-what?” You sputtered out, your eyes wide.

“You heard me. Get on the bed and lay down.”

Javi reached down, sweeping your pile of dresses off of the bed and onto the floor.

“Why? What are you going to do?” You questioned him, shuffling anxiously from one bare foot to the other.

Javier rolled his eyes and let out a small, impatient sigh. “Just do it, hermosa. You can trust me.”

Swallowing harshly, you obeyed him and walked around to the side of your bed, taking a seat. You inhaled another deep breath before bringing your legs up and laying back, your head resting against your decorative pillows. You nervously tugged and pulled at the hem of his stolen pink shirt, trying to cover yourself up as best as you could as you laid there, sprawled out before him; however Javier had other plans. He climbed onto the bed after you, positioning his body so it hovered over yours. He nudged your legs apart with his knee, settling himself right in between your thighs. He grabbed one of your legs and hiked it up around his waist, putting the two of you in a very, very dangerous position. His fingers remained wrapped around your thigh, his touch burning right into your soft flesh as he held your leg in place around him.

“Don’t be shy, muñequita.” His voice had gone low and husky. He trailed his hand further up your thigh.

He grinned, feeling satisfied with himself when he felt the goosebumps erupt across your skin.

“Shut up, I’m not shy,” You fibbed, prompting him to chuckle.

“Mentirosa.” Javi’s hand abandoned your leg and he brought his hand up to the side of your face to cradle your cheek in his palm. His thumb brushed across your bottom lip.

“Kiss me,” he commanded, gently. “And this time, kiss me like you mean it.”

You reached up for him with trembling hands and grabbed two fistfuls of his pewter blue, button up shirt. You pulled him down towards you and lifted yourself up slightly off your pillows, crashing your mouth against his. You allowed yourself to finally release any fears that you might have had before and kissed him greedily and with fervor, as if it would be the very last time you’d ever get to kiss Javier Peña—because it very well could be the last time you would ever get to kiss Javier Peña.

You kissed him deeply, going on until your lungs began to burn—you only broke away from him once they started screaming, demanding oxygen.

Tearing yourself apart from him, you released his shirt and dropped back down onto your pillows, breathlessly asking, “Better?”

“Oh, so much better. Good girl, mi muñequita linda,” he praised, grinning again as he caressed the silkiness of your cheek. He lowered his head and lips ghosted over yours for a moment before he moved them down your neck, feathering kisses to any exposed skin peeking out from underneath his shirt. His hand found your breast and he groaned realizing that you weren’t wearing a bra underneath it. He kneaded the perfect, soft mound of flesh through the thin fabric, rolling your hardened nipple between his fingers. He bucked his hips into yours, causing a loud moan to escape from your lips the second you felt his hardened cock through his tight, light blue jeans. He caught sight of the way you blushed at the sound that he’d elicited from you and his grin widened. “Noises like that? The louder the better. So don’t hold back, preciosa.”

“What else can I do to make you—to make him feel good?”

Javier dipped his face right into the hollow of your neck, thinking it over for a moment. “A woman who takes control can be very sexy. I like it—I bet he’ll like it if you get on top.”

“I think I can do that.” Biting your bottom lip, you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him back, sliding yourself out from underneath him. You guided him to lay back onto your pillows and climbed on top of him, straddling his waist.

Shit. Javier cursed inwardly.

Maybe he’d been in over his head with this idea.

He knew at some point he’d have to stop it from going too far—but would he be able to?

“How do you like it?” You asked him, shyly. This time, you hadn’t bothered to correct yourself.

You didn’t want to know how to please another man.

You wanted to know how to please Javi.

Even if you’d never get the chance to do it.

“Depends on the mood,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders in the most nonchalant manner that he could muster under the circumstances—as if his cock wasn’t rock hard, straining against the zipper of his jeans and begging to be inside you.

“Te gusta despacito?” You start to rock your hips back and forth against his, slowly. “Do you like it slow?”

Javier’s breath hitched in the back his throat. At this point, there was no doubt about it—you could feel him underneath you, throbbing. “Sometimes,” he managed to choke out in reply. “Like I said. Just depends on the mood.”

“Or what about like this?” You grinned down at him, gaining a sense of confidence as you started to move faster on top of him, finding your perfect rhythm. You could see and clearly feel what you were doing to him. Knowing that you were having this kind of effect on Peña was nothing short of a fucking dream come true.

His hands went to your hips, holding on as you picked up the pace, grinding your clothed core down against his bulge.

You could feel your own arousal pooling between your legs, soaking your panties; you wouldn’t be surprised if you’d leave behind a wet spot on his jeans. “How am I doing?”

“Fucking amazing, muñeca,” he answered, earnestly. His long, thick fingers dug into your sides as he suggested, “It helps if you put on a little show while you’re up there, too.” He then pictured you in that sexy black lingerie set you’d bought; he imagined what it would be like to slip that tiny little thong to the side so you could freely ride his cock. The mere thought had him seeing stars.

“A show, huh?” You smirked and popped the top two buttons of your shirt—his shirt—exposing the smooth valley between your breasts to him. “I think I can do that too,” You giggled, pulling the fabric to the side, just enough to give him the tiniest glimpse of the soft curves of your chest but not enough to expose yourself completely.

“Hermosa,” he couldn’t help but groan out. It took every ounce of strength he had inside him not to reach up and tear his shirt right off of you so he could see all of you.

You grabbed his hands from your hips and slowly began guiding them all around your body. You started by placing them on your breasts, giving him permission to cop another feel before moving them slowly down the lengths of your sides and placing them on your bare thighs. From there, you picked up Javi’s hands once more and placed them behind you, allowing him to take two generous handfuls of your ass. Your hands then abandoned his and you placed them on his chest, supporting yourself as you continued to roll your hips against his, riding him through his jeans. You tossed your head back and closed your eyes; the friction of your clit against his pelvis even through all the clothes felt like absolute heaven, and you let out a lustful moan that bounced off of your bedroom walls as you continued to drive your hips harder against his own.

Realizing that this was no longer a lesson and you were actually pleasuring yourself, Javier groaned again. He moved his hands back to your hips and found himself bucking his own hips upwards to meet you halfway—he abandoned any and all worries about taking it too far. He wanted you to come.

He needed to see you come.

“Javi,” You gasped his name, moaning again.

“That’s it, muñeca,” he rasped out. “Just like that, baby. Keep going. What a good girl, what a good fucking girl.”

Any and all common sense had been washed away by pleasure and by your need to reach that sweet, sweet release.

It was so close. You felt him right there, right between your clothed folds, and all you could do was imagine what it would be like to have his cock fill you up and stretch you completely.

His name began to slip from your lips, rolling off of your tongue over and over again with such ease.

Your movements fell in perfect sync with his.

You went down, he went up.

You pulled, he pushed.

No doubt about it, Javier was trying to get you off.

Somehow, you find a voice that speaks in between all your pitiful little pants.

“J-Javi, maybe we s-shouldn’t—”

Javier quickly sat up and wrapped one of his arms around your waist. He slammed your mouths together, silencing you mid sentence. He thrusted upwards, and you whined into his kiss, rubbing your clit against his bulge even harder.

The beginning of your orgasm coiled up tightly in your belly, and you knew it would spring forward any second now.

“Javi, I’m so close—”

“It’s okay, hermosa. Come for me,” he mumbled into your mouth. “I’ve got you.”

Your arms found their way around his shoulders and you buried your face into his neck. Squeezing your eyes shut, your loud cries came out muffled against his collarbone as you unraveled, coming undone with one last cry of his name.

You slumped forward, resting your head on his shoulder as you fought to catch your breath, the pleasure still pulsing between your thighs.

Javier’s other arm curled around you and he said nothing as he held you.

Once you’d finally started coming down from your high, your eyes flew open and a chill went up the length of your spine.

What had you two just done?

Still straddling his lap, you pulled back. “Javi—”

Without warning, Javier flipped you over so you were on your back underneath him once again. He hovered over you, his eyes meeting yours for just a moment before he dipped his head and captured your lips with his one final, deep and sensual kiss.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about tonight,” he murmured once he had pulled away. “You’re fucking perfect, mi vida.”

He touched the tip of his nose to yours before climbing off of you.

“I fucking hope this guy realizes what a lucky son of a bitch he is,” Javier said quietly before turning on the heel of his boot and walking out of your bedroom, leaving you laying there with your mouth parted open in complete shock.

Translations

Solo es una bromita, muñeca. No tienes por qué ofenderte. - It’s just a little joke, doll. No need to get offended.

El vestido rojo. - The red dress.

Te lo juro, Javi. - I swear to you, Javi.

Chismosas - Gossipers

Falta mucha tela, cariño. - There is a lot of fabric missing, darling.

Mentirosa. - Liar.

Te gusta despacito? - Do you like it a little slow?

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

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icannotgetoverbirds · 1 year

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vent

yet again out here wishing i'd grown up with some semblance of hispanic culture in my family instead of a monolith of mormonism

#byrd chirps #like fr. i wish i'd grown up learning spanish.#i wish i'd been able to make friends with the latine kids in the spanish ward and go and hang out with them #i wish that i'd gotten to spend more time in mexico even if it was a tourist town #i wish my parents didn't think of mexico as inherently more dangerous than the us because racism and nationalism #which is especially sad since my mom is half mexican! like girl those are your people too!#idk that was probably a terrible way of putting it #i wish my bio dad hadn't been so shitty. bc maybe then i could've stayed in contact with my mexican stepmom #who could help me with this. help me learn about our history our culture #without her i never would've had homemade tamales #without her i never would've had the knowledge that i did get lucky enough to have #i hope that someday she recognizes that she and her son (my half brother) deserve better #and they leave my dad's sorry ass behind #would mexico even have me? would i be able to find family and community there?#that's ultimately what humanity is about right? community and family?#so why shouldn't it be the same in mexico?#why then do the people around me act like moving to mexico is a foolish and dangerous idea?#obviously i need to do my research and be prepared but that's the case for every goddamn country!#mexico isn't any different just because it has brown people in it!#right??? right??? im not going crazy? im not losing my mind?#mexico #hispanic #latine #latino #idk wtf im doing 😭#i just want OUT #and in this moment i want to thank my mood stabilizer

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foone · 11 months

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ARGH. Watching a letsplay and the streamer goes "are they outrunning it? but I thought the nova affected, like, most of the galaxy?"

This is one of my astronomy pet peeves: NOVAS AND SUPERNOVAS* ARE NOT THAT BIG.

And here's the thing: supernovas are basically bigger than you expect, even if you take this rule into account. Nevertheless, they're not THAT big. You are not going to get blown up because a star in a neighboring star system went nova, and if it goes supernova you're mostly in trouble because you'll get hit with enough gamma rays to fuck up your ozone layer.

So even if a nearby star goes boom, it's not "OH NO MY PLANET EXPLODED", it's more "slow environmental catastrophe". The best proof for this? We've been hit with them before. It's estimated the earth has been hit with gamma ray bursts from nearby supernovas something like 8 times. One of them may have caused the Late Ordovician mass extinction half a billion years ago.

SCREW YOU JJABRAMS AND ORCI AND KUTZMAN, ROMULUS'S STAR GOING SUPERNOVA IS NOT GOING TO FUCK UP THE GALAXY, THEY'RE JUST NOT THAT BIG.

anyway, FUN FACT: the general "danger radius" for supernovas is within 300 parsecs. There are 6 known stars that may go supernova within that distance, and the most famous of these is Betelgeuse, which may go boom soon**. It's ~200 parsecs away so it's probably not going to hit us with a biosphere-destroying blast, but it may be a measurable decrease in ozone when it explodes.

* I know what the correct plural is, but I'm not speaking latin. ** "soon" in astronomy terms means "within the next 100,00 years", but Betelgeuse has been doing some weird variability within the last couple years so it may be very soon. But we've never really studied a star about to supernova this closely before, so who knows?

#space #star trek 2009

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kookies2000 · 10 months

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Because I feel like it.

Yellow sky? Bare footed characters? Mostly a mess? Over exaggerating some of the Hispanic features. I saw the first episode, and it was just poorly written in general. And what mother calls their son "cochinada." Roughly translates to dirty or trash.

What's good Latino/Hispanic representation?

Colombian 🇨🇴

In the Caribbean region of Colombia, they light up candles and lanterns on December 8, before sunrise. So the candle giving them magic was a wonderful detail. Generational trauma is a thing for us Latinos, and this film handled it in a healthy and matuer manner. And I love how they didn't shy away with how Spaniards attacked and colonized latin lands.

Mexicans 🇲🇽

Yes, us Mexicans love death. 🤣 But hey, I was always taught to respect death, La Muerte, and our ancestors. So, it makes sense that many Mexican films talk about death. But I also like that Maya and the Three have Aztec, Mayan, and Incan mythology. Natives to Mexico.

Dominican Puerto Rican 🇩🇴🇵🇷

Luz mom is Dominican, and Luz dad is Puerto Rican. I appreciate a good interracial couple and a mixed child. Luz name also translates to light, and some Latinos are known for doing witch craft. Or at least knowledgeable about witches and demons, and no, we aren't evil. We just know how to handle this stuff. Plus, the owl has many meanings in Latino culture. To some, I believe the owl is a messenger of death and is telling everyone that death/danger is near.

Afro Latino. Puerto Rican 🇵🇷

I am a massive sucker for interracial couples and mixed kids because of this. I was working at a hispanic store as a cashier. This woman walks past me and starts talking to the bagger. The bagger has blond hair, blue eyes, and white skin. The bagger looks at me worried because she doesn't speak English. So brown skin, black hair, me has to tell the bagger that the lady wanted ice in Spanish. I then talked to the lady in English. Her reaction? "YOU SPEAK ENGLISH!" Same for a dark skinned man. So many people skip me and talk to him in English. He's Dominican, and he only spoke Spanish. I appreciate films that show Latinos in different skin types and features. We're not all brown. So yeah, the mass diversity in this film is just beautiful. And I love how they wrote Miles relationship with his parents. Realistic conflict and healthy communication. Not falling into toxic stereotypes.

Spainard Puss 🇪🇸 Mexican Kitty & Perrito 🇲🇽

Spaniards are considered Hispanic but not Latinos like Mexicans. And again, interracial couples for the win. And I love the realism in their romance that heals through healthy therapy. Many people see Mexicans as toxic, so having Perrito as a therapist and the one helping everyone emotionally, it's nice. Not every Mexican is toxic. And I love how you can tell their Spanish and Mexican even though their animals. Puss Spanish accent, Spanish actor, him being a ginger like some Spaniards, flamingo dancing, and gazpacho. Kitty, Mexican accent, Mexican actress, black fur/hair like most Mexicans, quinceañera, and I love how they gave her a luchador mask. Something that originates from Mexico. Also, my brother and I joke how we as Mexiacns can't swim and Kitty nearky drowns in the 1st film. 🤣 Perrito, he's a chihuahua with a Mexican actor. Enough said. I also want to say death is Brazilian because of his actor.

I don't know much about Spanish culture, but someone said the wishing star has a connection to Spanish culture. Is that true? If so, COOL! Because death is connected to Mexican culture. So, Dreamworks finding a way to combine Spanish and Mexican culture in one film is 100% magical.

There are many more, like Beverly Hills Chihuahua 🇲🇽. 🤣 That film is better than Primos. Emperor's New Groove, Peru 🇵🇪, and Rio, Brazil 🇧🇷. Not Hispanic but Latino culture. But this post is getting long. Primos! A huge step down in Latino/Hispanic representation. Especially since we have so many good films and shows that have proper representation.

#primos #encanto #maya and the three #maya and the 3 #coco #book of life #the owl house #toh #owl house #puss in boots #puss in boots the last wish #spiderman across the spiderverse #spider man: into the spider verse #into the spider verse #spiderman: into the spiderverse #spiderman into the spiderverse #spiderman #spider man across the spider verse #across the spiderverse

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escxelle · 3 months

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i'm convinced sleep token are stem girlies because the amount of physics, maths and chemistry in their lyrics hmmm. lemme list all the references below the cut <3 (just as an fyi: this is a joke and i'm not being serious!! i'm just pointing out all the science references in their songs, dw)

alright, bit of a stretch to start but: "sulfur on your breath, granite in my chest." - granite from take me back to eden (2023). sulfur obviously being an element and granite is a rock (i'm not a chem student, i do astrophysics sorry idk anything else skdjsjd)

i'm being really picky but like "these days i'm a circuit board, integrated hardware you cannot afford." - aqua regia from take me back to eden (2023). vessel is an engineering girlie!! /j also i could point out the latin title is a mixture of nitric acid and hydrochloric acid sooo

still in aqua regia, we have "sugar on the blood cells, carbon on the brain." mhm, speak stem girlie!

aqua regia is full of stem textbooks: "oxytocin running in the ether. silicon ballrooms. subatomic interactions if it's all good. gold rush, acid flux. saturate me, i can't get enough. cold love, hot blood." so the debrief: oxytocin is a hormone. ether are a class of compounds. the rest i think is self-explanatory, as they're elements and cute little stem terms oxox

i love stretching. "your viscera welcome me in." - vore from take me back to eden (2023). viscera are the large organs inside the body, including the heart, stomach, lungs, and intestines. biology girlies!! /j

more stretching <3 "who encrypted your dark gospel in body language? synapses snap back in blissful anguish." - ascensionism from take me back to eden (2023). encryption is the process of encoding information!! a computer science girlie!! then synapses are the places where neurons connect and communicate with each other <3

"half algorithm, half deity. glitches in the code or gaps in a strange dream." who ate a programming textbook?! /j

"digital demons make the night feel heavenly." side note but i think we should start calling trolls digital demons.

"lipstick, chemtrails, red flags, pink nails." has someone maybe studied chemtrails in their chemistry classes hmmm? /j

as i'm an astrophysics student i have to mention this: "the shifting states you follow me through." - the apparition from take me back to eden (2023). states, huh? liquid turning into a solid time is it? /j

"i feel my shadown dissolving." - rain from take me back to eden (2023). a metaphor or a chemistry textbook? /j

"it's that chemical cut that i can get down with." have many chemical cuts, huh?? /j

i'm an astrophysics girlie (gn) so i have to include this one: "a dangerous disposition somehow refracted in light, reflected in sound."

"i dream in phosphorescence." - take me back to eden from take me back to eden (2023). phosphorescence is a type of photoluminescence related to fluorescence. i mean, come on! the rest lyric? really?

"sink porcelain stained, choking up brain matter and make-up. just two days since the mainframe went down and i'm still messed up." biology and software engineering much? /j

"if my fate is a bad collision." - euclid from take me back to eden (2023). collision? huh are you a particle, hm? also euclid was a greek mathematician ! currently in my special relativity notes i have written "flat euclidean space"! riddle me that, sleep token. /j

"just orbiting the vacuum i am." - atlantic from this place will become your tomb (2021). yes, orbiting like the sun and moon and planets, right?? /j

"push down into membranes and layers, creating a slow dissection." - like that from this place will become your tomb (2021). yeah we get it, you're a biology student /j

"you lie an inch apart on your own continuum." - the love you want from this place will become your tomb (2021). continuum, huh?

"and though echoing futures are the buckling sutures." - fall for me from this place will become your tomb (2021). i bet you've seen many sutures huh dr. vessel! /j

right prepare for a lot of references here folks. "she's not acid nor alkaline." - alkaline from this place will become your tomb (2021). do i really have to explain the actions of this chem girlie? /j

"ooh, let's talk about chemistry 'cause i'm dying to melt through to the heart of her molecules 'til the particles part like holy water. if anything, she's an undiscovered element." i'm sure you'd love to infodump about your favourite subject! /j

"'cause i am broken into fractions." - distraction from this place will become your tomb (2021). i bet you deal with fractions all the time, you maths nerd!! /j

"and we go beyond the farthest reaches where the light bends and wraps beneath us and i know as you collapse into me." - telomeres from this place will become your tomb (2021). light bending? how very relativity of you. also telomeres are structures made from DNA sequences and proteins found at the ends of chromosomes.

"and i choke myself on sacred vapour." - high water from this place will become your tomb (2021). vapour because it's changed state, right? /j

"keep up on the charm offensive anymore." - missing limbs from this place will become your tomb (2021). i'm doing particle physics right now so i know exactly what a charm quark is! also limbs??? hello again dr. vessel /j

"'cause i look for scarlet and you look for ultraviolet." - higher from sundowning (2019). using ultraviolet filters for your astrophotography are you?? /j

"let the impulse to love and the instinct to kill entangle to one." - say that you will from sundowning (2019). entangle? entanglement? quantum entanglement? i'm connecting the dots.

"i want to roll the numbers. i want to feel my stars align again even if the earth breaks like burnt skin." - blood sport from sundowning (2019). an astrophysics fr /j

"and somewhere, somewhere the atoms stopped fusing." more stem!

"and out there, stuck in a quantum pattern, tangled with what i never said." this is something a theoretical physicist would say is all i'm saying. /j

now you have to listen to sleep token to hear these bangers >:)

#i've been obsessively listening to nothing but st for like a straight week #the brain rot got to me okay #sleep token #elle's interests hyperfixiations and shenanigans #escxelle

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postmodernbeliever · 1 month

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not for a second longer - fox mulder x female reader (fluff)

fox is coming home from a case that's got him missing you like crazy, and you're (im)patiently waiting.

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my ao3 | word count: 3,070

content tags: dorks in love, fox mulder misses you, domestic fox mulder, fluff, domestic fluff, worry, romance, waiting, overthinking, fox is an idiot (/pos), reunited and it feels so good, just soft fluff that's all, cross-posted on ao3, mentions of murder/case material but briefly!

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡

fox felt like if another second passed without hearing your voice, he might go insane, and this was a first- even for a complete lover boy like him.

the agent has been away on a case for a few days. not much shorter or longer than any other work he’s done, but this time he couldn’t bear being far from home. he’d done everything just as he always does- there were no changes in the routine he’s tailored since he met you. he called every night to let you know he was safe and hear about your day, even if it was late and he woke you up by doing so; he’d remind you to feed his fish, and ask you about that nagging coworker who the two of you nicknamed hannibal because he always brought something creepily edible for lunch (the man ate steak tartare like his life dependent on it, honestly.) and you’d complain, like always, and you’d ask how his case was going, which would lead to him willingly divulging all kinds of classified information just for fun. you’d offer advice if you could. you weren’t as invested in the paranormal as he was, but you’d had your share of spooky stories, so your middle-of-the-road perspective helped at times. the phone call was always the same, but it didn’t matter what you talked about. he just wanted to hear your voice as badly as you did his, and it put you both at ease. so he called.

like clockwork, fox admired the engraved backside of his watch before he fell asleep every night, where it said don’t keep me waiting. it was an inside joke that sparked when you’d first started dating. fox warned you up and down about how dangerous his job can be, how he’s been injured and in and out of hospitals and how multiple criminals are likely sitting on plans for his murder if they ever break out of incarceration. he prepared to see you get overwhelmed and leave him due to the potential stress; yet when he packed up for his first case, you kissed him softly, no fear to be felt, and told him not to keep you waiting because you couldn’t promise to keep his fishes alive while he was gone. the watch was last christmas’ gift, and he never took it off, especially when he was away.

fox even kept with his dorky tradition of taking one of the many shirts you’d left at his apartment and sleeping with it under his pillow, where he could hold onto it and feel like he at least had a piece of you while he was alone. when you found out he did such a thing, you teased him brutally, and then you began leaving clothes in every corner of the apartment for him to save. and you left your spare perfume bottle in his bathroom cabinet, so he could concentrate them with you.

the man took all the cheesiest precautions to make his work out of state bearable until he could solve the damned things and get back home, but even with all of his bases covered, it wasn't enough. something felt different this time. coming back to a motel every night, like he had for his whole career before he met you, was torture. every moment of the case strung him farther out. now, if you’d asked the lovely and level-headed dana scully why fox was so eager to be done with the case, she would’ve given you a plain and simple explanation: the two were investigating a string of seemingly unrelated murders by men unto their girlfriends, but fox had a suspicion that some kind of entity persuaded each man to kill the girl who kept their beds warm. and with every day that they didn’t track the cause down, he felt the pressing weight of your safety and how much he cared for you, and it was making him- as scully would kindly put it, of course- act out extremely irrationally. even you could put two and two together there, but he’d been a bit avoidant over the phone about this one job, so you didn’t know. fox refused to think about you in connection to the work, though, because to allow his brain to cross its signals and imagine you and him as victim and suspect (as a paranoid brain might) would just be stupid. but whether he meant to think of you or not, everything was putting him on edge by association, and he was itching to see you happy and healthy and still his.

by the time fox deciphered that the newest date-night romantic comedy at the local movie theater was having midnight showings, and the ticket booth operator was a twenty-five year old involuntary celebate who was admitting loving couples into the place and watching them make out right in front of his jealous eyes, the case was a one-and-done. scully didn’t buy that the employee was telekinetically causing the boyfriends to kill, but the kid got shot in a police chase, so fox was left to his conclusions and she to hers. and he couldn’t drag her ass out of town fast enough. fox was two hours early to the airport. he bounced his leg on the entire flight home, and scully barely got a “see you tomorrow” out by the time he hailed a cab and ordered the driver to his address.

his gut was twisting itself in knots, hoping you’d be home. you practically lived with him by how much time you spent at his apartment; the truth was that he was away so often, and you just couldn’t sleep unless you could curl up in his bed, with his pillows and blankets and wearing his clothes, and let everything that belonged to him comfort you until you got the man back himself. he knew you’d be there- it was nearly one in the morning. but still, after all this time staring at dead girls and thinking about how in love they were with the trusted boys who slit their throats, he just wanted to collect you into his arms and keep you there.

you were wide awake because you knew he was on his way. you stayed up all night watching all the classic movies he had on tape, glancing at the clock, trying to stop obsessing over the unlikely crash of his plane. you were standing in his little kitchen, watching the tea kettle boil and listening to the fuzzy transatlantic accents yapping a room away, when the front door of the apartment swung open.

you didn’t even have time to leave the kitchen. fox threw his bags down like a child and scurried to you, engulfing you in his arms; he drew your body snugly into his and buried his face in your shoulder. he was squeezing the air from your lungs, but you didn’t mind. you combed your fingers through his moussed-up hair, breaking up the curated clumps and reminding it of how it naturally fell against his head. he smelled just as he did when he left, like his ralph lauren polo green- minty and smoky, and so much himself. his soft leather jacket hung onto the smell of his taxi, but you ignored the staleness and inhaled the good stuff.

“i missed you so much,” fox sighed. the man showered you with kisses all over your neck and jaw, traveling up the valleys of your cheeks to make sure he got your eyes and nose and forehead, too. you squirmed playfully and swatted at his hands, but he only smiled and fought you off.

“jeez, it’s like you thought i died or something!” you giggled.

fox’s eyes flashed with something that looked like momentary worry, and then it was gone- replaced with a warmth you’d missed more than you realized the past few days. his arms were around you again, this time much gentler, and he asked, “you feel safe with me, don’t you?”

“what? fox, why would you even ask that? of course i do,”

“you know i’d never hurt you,”

“baby, you’re the only person in the world i feel safe with.” you promised, petting the back of his head softly, smoothing the hair down his neck. with both hands, you lifted his face from your shoulder and brought his face close, so you could look right into his ruminative eyes. the man smiled as your thumbs caressed the stubble growing in on his cheeks, those rounded teeth poking out beneath his top lip the way you adored. your chest fluttered, and you couldn’t help but return the gesture.

“are you okay, baby?” you asked, knocking your forehead against his playfully.

the man dipped his neck low and pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth. somehow it felt more intimate than if he’d truly kissed you; like by being an inch off base, he was saying more than the real thing could. he always did things like that, such small gestures that would go unnoticed if he was any other guy and you were any other girl, but every move fox made was conscious. each one was a choice that meant something. kissing you in such a way wasn’t a mistake, it was purposeful- he was proving his allegiance, ruling your mouth was more sacred and deserved to be earned. he was poetic in that respect, you knew it, and it made every hair on your body stand up. maybe that’s why you shifted your position and locked him in a normal kiss- a forceful one, at that. to remind him that you were nothing sacred, just someone who desperately loved him.

you’d missed the way his lips molded to yours, the familiar chapped patches that came from his nervous biting, the way his scruff scratched your chin. you even missed the feeling of his breath as it blew out of his nose and across your face, warm and frequent, because he always seemed to breathe faster when you got close, like a teenage boy. you kissed him hard, letting your hands fall down his chest and press against his abdomen, remembering the sculpted curves of his stomach beneath his t-shirt. fox’s lips curled upwards as you touched him, and in those few moments of your neediness, he was sure you meant what you said before- that you truly did feel safe with him.

when he pulled away, he brought the pad of his thumb to your plump bottom lip, holding you by the chin. “i’ve been going crazy without you, you know.”

“so have-” you began, but were cut off by the sudden screeching of the forgotten kettle behind you. both fox and yourself jumped, and you rushed to twist the knob on the stove, shutting the thing up in frustration. “sorry.”

“it’s okay,” the agent chuckled.

“you want some?”

“only if you bring it over to the couch for me,” fox said, batting his eyelashes jokingly.

“what am i, your mother?” you countered.

fox rolled his eyes and pressed another kiss to your lips, rebutting, “no, but you do love me, don’t you?”

“oh, shut up. go unpack.”

you listened to his footsteps as he went to retrieve his bags and haul them to his bedroom. smiling to yourself, you waited to hear him open the door and laugh. every time he came home, you left his bed an unruly mess and accumulated as many water cups on his nightstand as possible, and he had a love-hate relationship with it (mostly love, because he adored the idea of you living in his space.) a full-bodied sound came from the other side of the apartment, a hearty one, and a voice called, “impressive collection you’ve got in here!”

with two steeping cups of oolong you walked slowly back to fox’s living room, where his copy of vertigo had rewinded to the start. you settled into the couch, putting your feet up on the coffee table and watching jimmy stewart dangle from a drainpipe as you awaited your boyfriend’s return. it always took him a little while to unpack because it was more like repacking- he would swap out all his worn clothes with new ones and throw everything in the hamper, and he had to take out all his necessities only to keep them somewhere easy for him to grab come the next time work sends him away. you were used to waiting for him, but how he acted tonight was making you impatient.

when fox was finally done and changed into a clean shirt and pajama pants, he headed towards the hallway to come and sit with you. but he paused when he came to the corner, making his steps quiet, so he could take a look at you undisturbed. you were slouched on his old, rickety couch, in clothes all belonging to him; a pair of old gray sweatpants that hugged your thighs, given they were a bit bigger than his skinny ones, his old oxford long sleeve that has a hole in the neck, and a frumpy blue grandpa-style cardigan he hasn’t worn in years. your hair was tucked away in an unraveling braid, with little locks fanning like leaves across the apples of your cheeks. your chipped nails cradled the mug in your palms, and the colors from the box television danced in the reflection of your chunky tortoiseshell glasses. he imagined you sitting like this while he was off on a case, at home in his home, watching his movies and wondering about him like he did of you late at night. you were so pretty and so important that he felt the love buzzing in his fingertips and toes.

the man came around the corner and sat down cautiously on the couch so as not to spill your tea. your face softened at his arrival, and you leaned forward to place your cup down and clamber back to him, throwing your arms around his neck. fox hoisted you onto his lap despite your objections, and he hugged you tighter. he just didn’t feel like letting you go tonight, it seemed.

“did you eat?” you asked, looking down into those puppy eyes that gazed up.

“a little while ago.”

“how long was a little while ago?”

“...ten o'clock this morning?” fox grinned sheepishly.

“fox! aren’t you starving? let me go heat something up, i got chinese last night-”

“shh, no, not yet,” he grabbed your hips as you tried to get off of him, “don’t go anywhere yet. sit for a minute.”

“but-”

“no buts. just sit with me a little longer and then i promise i’ll eat, okay?”

you sighed, only half-aggravated, and nodded softly. “alright, fine.”

you rested your head in the crook of his neck, your shoulder pressed to his; he twisted you a bit so you had a chance to look at the tv and sit on him at the same time. fox’s fingers traced mindless shapes against the fabric of his sweatpants on your knee, finally at ease. you stole a glance at him from the side and admired the way even his harshest features seemed to curve softly; his square jaw melted into his neck, his aquiline nose a pretty protrusion alongside his lashes that curled wildly. you always thought his face was the most deserving of marble preservation, far more than those ancient guys.

“you're missing the movie,” he flushed.

“i already watched it tonight.”

the man nuzzled your forehead like a puppy, feeling his stomach flip as your palm rested flat against his chest. you snuggled right up to him and let out a heavy breath you didn’t know you were holding. the two of you sat quietly for a while, taking turns watching each other and remembering what it felt like to be close, and you were half-asleep in the comfort of his arms when his stomach growled and woke you up.

“i’m gonna go make you something,” you chuckled.

“awh, come on, you were just about to sleep!” he whined.

“fox, i want you to eat. once you have a little something then i’ll climb right back on you, promise,” you teased, pushing up off the couch.

“whatever,” he groaned, but there was a toothy smile behind the complaint, so you took it well.

fox watched as you sauntered off to the kitchen, and he called after you, “hey, wait,”

“what?”

the man hopped off the couch and scrambled to the doorway, where you were only feet from the refrigerator. he stooped down and planted a smooch to your forehead, muttering an, “i love you.”

“just can’t leave my side now, hm?” you nudged fox’s nose with your own and gave him a look so fond it nearly melted him into a puddle on the kitchen tile. “i love you more. now beat it, spooky.”

“hey!”

“shush. go sit down and i’ll make it up to you later.”

‘you’re bossy,” fox crossed his arms, leaning against the wood molding and watching you move towards the fridge.

“well, if you’re not gonna leave, then at least get a pan for me to heat this rice up in, would you?” you ordered, shaking the day-old fried rice container in his face.

“anything for you, darling.”

being without each other could feel impossible at times. no matter how he tried, no set routine could recreate the feeling of falling asleep beside you; nor could any amount of his laundry could conjure fox himself to send you off to work with a kiss every morning. his work made it easy to miss him. but moments like this, where he watched you make him a late-night snack that he would share with you, were the moments that made all the waiting worth it. and the moments that will come after, too- the couch that was waiting for you both to come back to, where you’d fall asleep with your face against his neck, and where he’d fall asleep watching you breathe. nobody knew that absence makes the heart grow fonder more intimately than you two did. but even with that in mind, neither of you cared about that right now.

he was simply thankful to be with you, the one he called home; thankful that he didn’t have to be without you for a second longer, and so were you.

#spooky mulder #x files #fox mulder #fox mulder x you #fox mulder x reader #fox mulder fluff #fox mulder x reader fluff #domestic fluff #domestic fox mulder #soft fox mulder #x files fanfic #Spotify

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awyeahitssam · 2 months

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“What’s with the lolly?”

“I was eating it when I died,” Harry said slowly. “I’d never had a lolly before. I suppose it just... came with?”

Harry frowned. “Magic? That’s what I could do?”

Voldemort inclined his head. “Yes, child. No muggle is strong enough to leave behind an imprint.” Especially such an odd one.

“Huh,” Harry murmured thoughtfully. “So my family wasn’t just awful, then. They had a reason for calling me a freak.”

“What?” Voldemort said softly. His voice was cold. Dangerously so. But... if Harry was already dead, he really had nothing to fear, so there was no harm telling him.

“The Dursleys,” he explains. “My aunt, uncle and cousin. They all hated me - treated me like a servant, more than family - called me a freak. I’m just saying, I suppose it makes sense now.”

The man hums thoughtfully. His eyes are a bright red, intent and gleaming, when they meet Harry’s. “You were a magical child,” he says softly. Then, “Where was it that you lived with this family of yours?”

Never tell strangers where you live was right up there with never tell strangers that we lock you in a cupboard. Harry hesitated, the rules ingrained. “Why?”

“You were magical,” the man repeated. “Every drop of magical blood is special. And they spilled it, didn’t they, child?”

“All kids bleed,” Harry says. Dudley had scraped his knees plenty.

“Most kids are given bandages,” Voldemort said softly. “But you are no longer able to accept them. So consider this a kindness from your Lord, child. I will kill the filthy muggles who dared harm you.”

...

“I’m busy, Potter. Run along and play now.”

The boy squints at him in confusion. “Play?”

“Yes. Play. Or lounge, stare at the sky, whatever you please - just cease pestering me.”

When Voldemort looked up again the brat was gone.

He wouldn’t see him again for weeks.

“You know, when I said stop pestering me, I didn’t mean I didn’t want to ever see you again. I just didn’t wish to be distracted by you.”

Harry shrugged, legs swinging back and forth. “It’s all right, I’m used to being alone.”

“As am I,” Voldemort said. “Hence my annoyance at your continued presence.”

“So you do want me to leave,” Harry concludes, pushing himself off the couch. He lands on the hardwood soundlessly.

“Is that what I said?”

“Sometimes the answer is in what people don’t say,” the seven-year-old said wisely.

“Harry,” he snaps, before the boy can vanish again to Merlin-knew-where. “You can stay.”

Harry blinks at him dubiously, but then shrugs and settles back on the sofa. “Alright. Should I be quiet and pretend I don’t exist?”

“No,” Voldemort says definitively. “You will listen to me. You wish to know about magic, do you not?”

Harry visibly perks up. “I’m allowed to learn?”

The more of these seemingly innocuous questions the boy asks, the more Voldemort wants to murder his relatives. One day, he thinks, he will convince the boy to slip. To give him the address.

“You are expected to,” he says shortly. “I will ask questions at the end.”

Teaching was different than he expected. The boy raised his hand often, and once Voldemort finished his thought and nodded his permission, he asked a question—sometimes several at once. What did a word mean, or why did wizards use Latin for spells, or why did people need wands.

“Your wand is an extension of yourself,” Voldemort lectures. “It is a tool used to channel magic. People can learn to use magic without a wand, but it is never so powerful.”

Harry’s lolly was hanging loosely in his hand. He stared down at it thoughtfully. “I’ll never have a wand,” he says thoughtfully. “I have this, though.”

He meets Voldemort’s eyes briefly before pointing his lolly at the cushion and mimicking Voldemort’s wand motions perfectly. “Wingardium Leviosa,” he says firmly.

Before Voldemort can tell him that such a thing would hardly work, the cushions shot into the air. Harry watches them with open delight, moving his lolly to and fro like a conductor. The cushions follow his antics smoothly, before slowly sinking back into place on the couch. Harry turns to Voldemort, expectant.

The man is watching him cooly, eyes analytical. “Just what are you, Harry Potter?”

What. Not who.

Harry shrinks, but then puffs himself up and glares back. “Just the same old freak,” he snaps, and then vanishes.

When he comes back a month later his hair is longer.

He’s incorporeal, but he’s growing. Ageing. Able to do magic.

Voldemort is fascinated by the phenomenon.

#Mentor Voldemort #'dead' Harry #Discontinued #my writing

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polakina · 2 months

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JAVIER REQUEST PLS OMG- We all like latin, suave lover Javier but what if we mix that with a lil bit of awkward Javier?? Javier who says the wrong, rizzless things whenever he tries to be suave and it ends up sounding like he's being threatening??

I think it would be silly if Javier fell for reader who tried to pick pocket him at a bar (he noticed ofc- she ain't slick-) and promptly invited her to come with him and join the gang or else he'll report her to the Sheriff for pick pocketing (he can't think of a fast enough excuse to make her stay).

i love love LOVE this idea. nonnie i love u

pls send more requests, this one is amazing

rating: mature

pairing: javier escuella x reader

follow the trail

You’d noticed him across the store about twenty minutes ago. He stood with a larger, more loudly spoken man who looked as though he was trying to start a fight with the store keeper. The Spanish man just stood there, leaning against the counter, looking like he didn’t want to be there. You found it sort of amusing, how fed up he looked.

Shielding yourself from view behind the shelves, you planned your idea, mapping it out in your head. The loud spoken man eventually stormed out of the building, leaving just you, the Latino and the shopkeeper.

You could do it now. Sneak behind him as though you were waiting in line, steal from his back pocket where you could quite clearly see a bill fold just waiting to be lifted from him. It’d be easy. Like the thousand other times you’d done it.

Javier eyed you from his peripheral. You’d pretended to eye coffee tins for a while now. Nobody looked at coffee that long. Your eyes had flitted between himself and Bill. Something in your eyes brightened once Bill had left the store, not even casting a glance at you.

So he was your target. Not Bill. Not the shopkeeper. Just as he’d suspected, you’d had a firm gaze on his back pocket since even before you’d entered the store. The bill fold he’d conveniently left in view drew your attention right to him. He’d felt your presence quite close behind him and Bill on the walk through Valentine. Not too close to draw attention, but not so far that you’d lose him in a crowd. You were good. But not as good as him.

He paid for his things and left. You grabbed a few tins of coffee and some assorted biscuits off the shelf and side stepped into view, head down. Your shoulder bumped his and you turned to apologise, your free hand reaching around his rear, delicate fingers lifting the folded papers out of his pocket.

“Apologies, mister,” you smiled sweetly, looking up at him. He was handsome, you noticed. A freckle dotted face and dark moustache covering his lips. You hadn’t noticed that from afar.

“It’s alright, hermosa,” he smiled back, tipping his hat to you. “Should have watched where I was going.” With that, he left, leaving you richer and him none the wiser. You smirked to yourself, paying for your groceries and making your way to the door. You didn’t see the silhouettes in the window, two men waiting outside the store. Exiting the shop, you paid them no mind, but they had their eyes on you.

“Got what you needed, Javier?” Bill asked him as he exited the shop, a smirk playing at Javier’s lips.

“No help from you, hermano,” Javier rolled his eyes, leaning against the wall of the general store. He lit a cigarette, waiting for the familiar bell ring of the door to sound. “You’re lucky he even served me after the shit you called him.”

“He said I was drunk! Thought I was a danger to him ‘in the state I was in. Goddamn idiot.”

“And are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Drunk?”

Javier laughed as Bill stumbled, unable to formulate a defence for himself. Of course, whatever defence he did come up with would have been a lie. He’d been drinking whiskey since the sun rose. Of course he was drunk.

“What you even doing, Escuella? We should be getting back to camp,” Bill pointed out, finally realising that Javier hadn’t even moved to make his way to his horse yet.

“Just gimme a sec, Williamson. There’s someone I’m waiting for,” he mused vaguely, turning his head towards the door as the lady who’d stolen from him exited the store.

You felt an arm grab you, and your head whipped towards the same man you’d robbed. Shit. “Hey, look I apologised for bumping into you, you don’t need to take this further,” you pulled from his grip easily. He wasn’t trying to restrain you, he just wanted your attention.

“Javier, you waited all this time for a girl? Come on, man, we’ve got shit to do,” the other man groaned, turning to stumble towards his horse, quite ungracefully, you might add.

“Not here about you bumping into me, chica,” Javier spoke, his tone steady, friendly. He leaned against the store post, smiling. You stood on the top step, a head shorter than him. “I’m here for the money you stole from me.” His accent tingled at something inside you. You hadn’t heard his accent much around Valentine. It wasn’t common. But you liked it.

“Well, that was a little abrupt, wasn’t it?” You asked, cocking your head, your heart thumping in your chest. It wasn’t often you got caught. You had to figure your way out of this one. Perhaps if you played with a meaner, more defensive streak, he might back off. “You’d do well not to go about accusing people like that.”

His eyebrows rose and his intimidating demeanour backed off.

He’d got you. He saw it in your eyes. You were trying to think of a lie that could get you out of this. To anyone else, your smile and sweet expression would have gotten you a slap on the wrist before getting sent off about your day. It could have worked for him. But Javier was looking to recruit. You seemed a perfect candidate.

“I want my money back, and I’ll get it one way or another,” he said. It came across more threatening that he’d have liked. Especially when he saw your eyes squint and your entire body tense. “But…but…perhaps if you gave it back, I could spend it on something nice, like taking you out for a drink? Hmm?”

You’d have thought he’d never talked to a woman before. First he accused you, then he asked you out for a drink? The man was all over the place. “So…you accuse me of stealing from you? And now…you want me to go for a drink with you? I think you’ve smoked too many cigarettes, mister,” you laughed, moving to walk away, but he stepped in front of you before you could leave.

“The bill folds. They were in my back pocket. I can’t lie, it was a pretty good lift. Better than I’ve seen in a while,” he smirked, looking down at you with a genuinely happy smile. “But not good enough, sweetheart.”

Your eyes widened. There wasn’t a way out now. He’d caught you red handed. Fuck.

“I don’t-”

“Look,”he leaned forward, his scent in your nose now, smoke wafting in your face as he spoke. His face inched closer to yours, and if you didn’t feel as though you were about to be outed, you’d probably have blushed. “We could use someone like you. You’re good at what you do, that much is evident. Seems like you wanna make money, I can help with that.”

That wasn’t exactly what you were expecting. “I ain’t looking for a job, mister,” you whispered, leaning in closer. “Not if it ain’t legal.”

He chuckled softly, his shoulders shaking as he tilted his head back. He had a pretty laugh. “Honey, I don’t think you’ve ever done a legal thing since you could walk. You rob people as easy as you breathe.”

“Not happening.”

Javier quirked his brow. “Let me rephrase this, hermosa. You can come with me, and my good friend Bill over there,” he pointed at Bill, who swayed against his horse, humming to himself across the street. “Or…I go tell that lovely sheriff over there that you stole from me. I’d love to see how you fare in jail. With a pretty face like that, you might get out in a couple weeks.”

“Are blackmailing me with a prison sentence to come join your rag tag crew of outcasts?!” Your eyes practically bulged out of your head and you couldn’t suppress the laugh that escaped you, it wasn’t friendly, exactly. More just out of sheer surprise.

“Uhm…well…okay, so,” Javier rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. Not exactly a smooth talker, he was beginning to learn. “It’s your only option, love.”

Honestly, it wasn’t a bad option. At least you wouldn’t be scavenging for scraps for the rest of your life. Hmm. You cocked your head to the side, looking at Javier with contemplating eyes. “Blackmail wasn’t the ideal way to go about it…” Javier chuckled nervously as you spoke, looking down at his feet. “But you’re lucky I’m desperate for somewhere more comfortable to sleep.”

Riding back to their camp, you looked over to Javier, whose eye caught yours. He smiled softly. “You know I wouldn’t have turned you into the sheriff, right?”

You huffed a chuckle, shaking your head. “I know that it would have been a stupid move from you, Javier,” you smirked.

“You still got my money?”

Raising your eyebrows, you turned to face the road. “Thought you were going to take me out for a drink with that money?” You heard him laugh to your right. “I’ll keep a hold of that money until you go through with that promise.”

He liked your spark. “Anything for you, hermosa.”

#fluff #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #red dead redemption community #red dead fandom #red dead redemption two #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption x reader #javier escuella rdr2 #rdr2 smut #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr2 #rdr2 x reader #javier escuella x reader

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brightlight-dazzlingeyes · 5 months

Text

moving slowly on a fast lane | cl16, cs55

charles leclerc x original female character x carlos sainz jr [+18]

🏁 synopsis: If you ask her, Katie will tell you she’s a motorsports enthusiast and that she works as a model. However, the world has given her various labels – fangirl, groupie, escort, you name it. Regardless of the terminology used, the undeniable truth is that women like her play a crucial role in the industry. Every race weekend, she is there not just to be entertained but to contribute to the entertainment, whether it's by being a pretty face at exclusive parties or by providing more intimate company for the pilots. warnings: smut; loss of virginity; threesome; age gap; misdescription of f1 behind the scenes (W.c. 2K)

| listen to the playlist |

PART I — GROUPIE LOVE

“Because you’re different.” Carlos explains, not really looking at her.

Charles, his head resting on her lap, winces at the response, quietly disagreeing with his teammate's answer. The trio, as usual, lies together on a king-sized bed in a luxury hotel.

It's summer in Latin America, and they're wearing light clothes. The windows are wide open, and the gentle tropical breeze is getting Katie agitated. Yet, it's all in vain because Carlos doesn't even move his eyes from the TV, watching a random tennis match.

Carlos and Charles label moments like these as 'teambuilding,' and usually, Katie is very good at getting them both in a good mood – calm and tranquil. But not today. Today, it's Katie herself who needs calming down.

For the past year, every race weekend, Katie wears her prized credentials like a badge of honor. In no time, despite being quite young and new to the scene, Katie seamlessly transitioned from a wide-eyed newbie to a face you couldn't miss. It wasn't a difficult feat, considering she has an unforgettable face with killer feminine features and a confident personality that could give the racers a run for their money.

Her presence in the paddock has transcended mere fandom – she's not just there to watch anymore, in a way, she became an essential part of the spectacle.

Things are still all rainbows and sunshine for Katie. Her life has turned into a never-ending road trip, always traveling with a team. The pilots still appreciate her – she’s still their untarnished muse – and she hasn't lost the thrill of the fast lane.

But Katie has been around long enough to see that feeling change in other women – the ones who've been on the circuit for ages, who've seen it all and maybe gotten a bit tired of the whole thing. It's hard for her to even picture herself in that spot, to imagine life being any different from what it is now.

Especially during the Canadian Grand Prix, that's when someone special took notice of Katie. An insider from Ferrari, whose name shall remain confidential; a person with a lot of influence within the team and whose role is not entirely undisclosed. This insider handed Katie a golden ticket: credentials and an invitation to join them on the road.

No longer having to jump from bus to bus, Katie arrived with the Ferrari roadies. The sound of tools clinking as the crew was setting up everything for the upcoming race created a magical symphony. In that moment, as a witness of the behind-the-scenes hustle and with the anticipation building up for the race, the thought of ever going home doesn't cross her mind.

"I just want to help," she whines.

They're in Mexico now, and it's Katie's first time in the country. But for their first day, Charles and Carlos decided to stay in, saying they needed to concentrate. For Katie, witnessing moments like these were a job, the reason she felt like a part of the circuit. She would linger in the center of the bed, offering words of encouragement or simply watching a movie together. Sometimes there would be other girls in the room, sometimes it was just her. Regardless, things never ventured further from that.

“No, you’re bored. And that’s dangerous, honestly.” Carlos stands firm on his answer.

It’s not like he’s not interested in what she’s offering, or that he hasn’t thought about it – it’s the reason why she’s asking that’s bothering him. Charles, on the other hand, has been waiting months for an excuse. But he had a deal with his teammates and a commitment in maintaining the appearances; so he kept his mouth shut, trying to appear as if he was agreeing with everything being said.

“Then entertain me.” Katie asks.

Maybe it's the uninspiring color of the walls or the constant thud of the tennis ball from the TV, but Katie is genuinely bored.

“Begging is not a good look on you.” Carlos says, finally turning to look at her. He playfully flicks her forehead, but there's a fire in his eyes that Katie takes mental note of, a memory she'll save to use against him eventually.

PART II — GASOLINE

The soft hum of a distant air conditioner mingles with the rhythmic clinking of ice cubes in a near-empty bar. The bartender, wiping down the counter, shoots a casual nod in their direction. Katie sits on a stool, a cold drink in her hand, condensation leaving delicate droplets on the polished surface.

Emily leans on the bar, an easy smile playing on her lips. The bar stools around them remain unoccupied and the only soundtrack is the soft chatter between friends and the occasional clink of glasses.

Emily was Katie's first friend in the racing world, and their connection came from their shared love for fast cars. Emily, being a couple years older and having a couple years more experience in the racing scene, became a sort of guide for Katie. So, when Katie talked about feeling unsure, Emily felt like she had to share some advice. Their talk wasn't just a casual chat; it was a mentorship.

“Baby girl, just be completely yourself. Be yourself to the fullest, unapologetically you." Emily declares. “Everything we do here is for love. Don’t worry, Artemis will forgive you.”

Katie, wearing her trademark graphic t-shirt and mini skirt, watches as the ice in her drink slowly melts under the Mexican heat. At 19, she's a college dropout who left her family behind to chase the adrenaline-soaked circuits of F1.

But being a young impressionable woman in this testosterone-charged arena came with its own set of challenges. She feels herself staring at the edge of an abyss, ready to jump, but held back by the fear of the unknown. The realization settles in – once she takes that leap, there's no turning back.

Emily, carrying the confidence of someone who took that jump long ago, continues, "And I know it feels like women are not allowed to love. Every time we're passionate about something, no matter how we express it, we end up as the punchline to some misogynist joke. Even if I wasn't sleeping with these guys, people would still treat me like I was. They already made up their minds about me long before they met me." Emily shares. She’s talking about the scrutiny they face, especially within the high-stakes world of the paddock, is a reality they've grown accustomed to. The lingering gazes of multi-millionaires, the subtle condescension in their voices – it's all part of the package. “And we’re not even getting paid!”

PART III — DARK NECESSITIES

It’s only in Vegas that she manages to put her plan into action. Getting Charles alone in a room is easier than she imagined. There are no distractions here – no photoshoots, no interviews, no fans asking for autographs –, no one’s watching. The city’s energy seems to fade and they are completely isolated in a hotel room.

The night unfolds in the heart of Sin City, the stakes are high, and in the quietude of the hotel room, Katie wonders if she's playing her cards right.

For a moment, Katie sheds the layers of her public persona, existing only as a woman whose body burns with an unmistakable yearning for the man before her; a woman with desires as palpable as the heat radiating through the room.

Charles breaks the silence that hangs between them. "Katie," he murmurs, his eyes locked onto hers, "are you sure?"

Katie, her gaze unwavering, listens to his words, simply nods. A silent affirmation, a surrender.

"Good girl," Charles whispers, his fingers gently brushing her hair behind her ears. His lips trail down her cheek, seeking the softness of her neck. In this moment, he's attempting to play the part of a gentleman, aware that this is Katie's first time. His breath, a subtle inhale, captures the scent of vanilla on her skin.

She feels a vulnerability she never felt before. Her body reacts instinctively, welcoming him as a lover. She has been waiting for this moment for too long.

“You’re gonna let me touch you, hm?” Charles's voice is muffled as he gently kisses her throat. “You’re going to let me be your first?”

A combination of trust and apprehension lingers within her.

“Yes. Yes.” Katie gasps. She leaves behind any trace of inhibition left and is ready to let him do whatever he wants to her.

Charles, driven by a mix of desire and curiosity, is eager to explore and to taste every inch of her. He takes her to bed and slowly takes off her shirt and bra, kissing her shoulder and leaving little bites along the way. He traces the curves of her breasts with the tip of his tongue, making her euphoric, arousing her even further – making her fully realize just how much she craves his touch. Charles captures her nipple between his teeth, gently sucking on it until it becomes erect under his touch.

He lets his hand slide, under her mini skirt and on top of her panties. Feeling the warmth of his hand on her clothed wet core, Katie lets out a sigh. For her it feels like it takes forever until they’re both naked and Charles has his head buried in between her legs. His lips touch her clit and he’s patient with his kisses, enjoying her innocent taste as much as he can. Charles drags his tongue through the length of her slit, parting her lips with his fingers and sending shivers throughout her entire body.

Charles takes his sweet time opening her up. The neon glow from the outside world seeps through the curtains; as the night deepens, the city pulses with life, unaware of the affair unfolding within the walls of the hotel room.

For a brief moment, everything fades away and Katie’s breathing accelerates, her hips buck involuntarily against his fingers.

“Don’t stop!” Katie urges, desperate to reach her climax. She surrenders to pleasure, moaning loudly as Charles’s tongue explores her more sensitive area.

That’s when they hear a knock on the door. Followed by another. Whoever is outside starts incessantly banging their fist against the wooden door. Startled, they exchange a brief, wide-eyed glance.

“Who is it?” Charles calls out, his voice tinged with irritation; Katie remains wrapped in the bedsheet.

Without receiving an answer, the door swings open, revealing Carlos's stern expression. His eyes flicker between Charles and Katie, registering the scene before him.

"What the hell, Charles?" Sainz's voice carries a mix of frustration and disappointment.

Katie feels a sense of exposure, caught between the two men. Leclerc, caught off guard, stammers in response, "Carlos, I... I didn't think you'd mind. It's just..."

Carlos's gaze intensifies, his disappointment morphing into a subtle betrayal. "We had an agreement," he says, his voice strained. "You weren't supposed to do anything without me." Carlos's eyes shift to Katie, his demeanor changing to one of confidence and dominance. "And you, young lady," he asserts, "you got what you wanted?"

"Not yet," Katie answers, a spark of defiance in her eyes. The tension in the room escalates, the air thick with desire. She notices Carlos eyes lingering on her exposed body. It feels empowering, intoxicating. The anticipation turns her arousal to a fever pitch.

“I want to watch.” Carlos states boldly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Since you decided you wanted to do this without me, at least be kind enough to let me watch.”

Katie doesn’t feel like she has a choice, her body has already decided what it wants. Charles lets out a quiet laugh, trying not to appear overly assured in this unexpected turn of events. He wraps his arm around Katie, pulling her closer. Her heartbeat quickens. When Charles reaches for her hand, she takes it, her eyes never leaving Carlos’s face. The pleasure pulsing through her is intense. Carlos moves and positions himself beside them. A second later, there is the unmistakable sound of Carlos's belt buckle being undone. He slips himself free.

Her attention turns back to Charles, who’s preparing himself to finally give her what she wants. She leans in to kiss him, inviting him deeper. Carlos’s eyes stay fixed on Katie as he watches Charles slip into position. Charles’s breath is hot on her ear, filled with lust and excitement. Her muscles are still tight from her lack of experience, but soon, she relaxes and lets go.

He enters slowly, savoring each moment. Charles moans softly, eyes closing as he holds her close. She bites down on her lip, managing to hold back her cries of ecstasy. This is her first time, so it hurts slightly, but also brings such blissful sensations that she can barely contain herself. The anticipation builds until, finally, she can take no more. "Charles," she whispers, reaching up to grasp his neck. Charles wraps his arm tightly around her waist, gently holding her in place.

Her entire body shakes as her orgasm hits, her release ripping through her. When she comes down from the high, she hears Carlos exhale loudly. He doesn't move, only watches her in admiration.

She opens her eyes and looks up. Instinctively, Katie leans forward to take his member into her mouth. She enjoys every moment of his warm girth sliding down her throat. Charles continues to fuck her troughout it. She sucks harder, with passion, like she was made for this. She realizes that, actually, she was.

And with that realization, Carlos spills himself on her soft mouth. She pulls away from him, his seed dripping down her chin. She closes her eyes and returns her attention to Charles, still buried deep inside her, just in time for his release – he comes with a growl, guttural, moaning in her ear.

Afterwards, they lie in bed together, recovering. Charles strokes her hair as Carlos cuddles with her. Charles gives her a gentle smile. "You're really something special, you know that?" He whispers.

#f1 fanfic #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc smut #carlos sainz imagine #f1 imagine #charles leclerc #carlos sainz

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bleedingichorhearts · 2 months

Text

𝕯𝖎𝖛𝖎𝖓𝖊 𝕲𝖆𝖑𝖆𝖝𝖞

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: Had this type of scenario going around in my head.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, both advise me if not wanting to be tagged here. I don’t remember.😭

𝕬𝖈𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖜𝖑𝖊𝖉𝖌𝖊: I’m new to this lore, and learning on my way of writing this. I think I just have some basics down. This is also not a… logical story. This, in no way, fits into the Warhammer 30k or 40k universe. This is purely just for enjoyment. Not proofread.

The Suberb Cathedral of Cologne | Their structures look like this right?

TW // None, I think.

To discover a new dimension was… interesting to say the least.

The new dimension. The new world was- is structurally prettier than our modern world. They have built grand structures that would have “The Suberb Cathedral of Cologne” be minuscule next to them. Their structures much stronger, taller, and wider. Covering acres of the land. The land they called “Terra.”

Which was a similar name to “Earth.” Just in Latin, in our world. A similar planet too, that was just more… advanced and polluted than anything. They also called their moon “Luna.” Which was named almost as regular as anything else besides the hulking, men in armor.

Those were interesting beings. They were taller, enhanced, and thickly armored human beings that called themselves “The Adeptus Astartes.” Or in other words a “Space Marine.”

The “Adeptus Custodes” were the first ones I've met. It wasn’t a peaceful meeting either. How could it be? I was sent through an unbelievable portal, not expecting to visit some huge, gold ridden throne room. I'm sure they weren't expecting it as well with how their spear-like weapons surrounded the two people I came in with like a flash. Their towering golden armor casting a shadow over every form. Leaving no chance to escape.

Not like anyone could. It was clear of how much power these Custodes held just by looking at them. Feeling how the area shifted with a more dangerous one, and one of the stupid people tested that theory, booking it when they thought they had an chance, but got quickly picked up by the collar of their shirt like a kicked puppy. It didn’t even look like an effort was made to do so. The Custodes just seemed more annoyed than anything.

Furthermore, for one of those reasons. These Custodes moved, more like shoved the whole group into a cell block so far down into the structure that it had the other person whining about how their feet hurt.

The custodes didn’t say nothing while they closed us into a cell. Putting “The ShadowKeeper” on duty to watch the cell. Which I think is a specific type of Custodes for this job. Concluding how the guy just stood there up for hours and had to listen to the many, many, many complaints of the two people in the cell with me. I don’t even know all of the people well, except for the girl.

She was someone I was quietly extracting from point A to point B. Nothing hard to do besides her constant whining and her “heroic” boyfriend that was trying saving her from me. I honestly was about to put a bullet in the guy's head for disrupting my work until that portal showed up, throwing all of us in there. I might have done her father something good for doing so though. She was not allowed to be around “men” at all anyways. It was stated in the contract.

Though, I was lucky enough that I was not fully dressed up in gear to be presented to this new world that could have been more hostile for all I know. Could have sliced me into two right there in that thrown room in seconds if I had my gear on, but they didn’t and I don’t know if that was the better alternative or not, but it usually wasn’t.

Nevertheless, the days in that cell passed like a dream where the only parts you got were the unimportant ones. The whiny duo wouldn’t stop begging at the Shadowkeeper to let them out, or at least give them a shrivel of attention. The boyfriend of the girl wouldn’t stop trying to fight me, and the two would eat the food given to us by Custodes that I wouldn’t dare to eat, and still wouldn't dare to eat after the other two scavenged my serving like they hadn't eaten the day before. Something the ShadowKeeper notified his superiors about. I know they did, it was a warden's job.

That’s how the cell was visited by their leader, this man, this deity? I not to sure what he was, but his golden eyes swept across the cell, scanning it before landing on my own figure sitting crisscrossed on the stone cold cell floor, his eyes never once leave my own. His towering form overthrowing the Custodies with amazing ease. It left the other two in the cell shocked, just how big was everything in this world?

It was almost freakish in a way. His intimidating gaze felt like a heatwave to be underneath. Pulsing into my skin to see the sins beneath. To boil me alive from inside and out. It was wired. Never was there ever a person to feel like they were crawling under my skin, but this wasn’t a person was it? This man…thing was something else.

When he spoke, he sounded calm, and gravelly, but judging how the other two looked like they swooned over him, like he spoke honeyed words to them, I couldn’t be so sure of that. Were they hearing something different than I was?

Sudden whispers attacked my hearing as I looked away from the… man. Seeing the portal was summoned from out of nowhere. It's swirling vortex calling me in. The relief of not having to look at the intimating man coming off my shoulders.

Standing up from the floor, I looked back at the man dawned in gold for a second more. Questioning if it was he that controlled these portals or not. It wouldn't be unusual for a man in his stature to do something impossible like that considering that he was about the size of a two story building.

I’d expect them to rush into the cell and try to deprive me of going back to wherever this portal might take me, but they didn’t, they held back. The man’s golden gauntlet stoping the Shadowkeeper from proceeding any further. Does this mean he knows something I don’t?

Perhaps, he knew that I would come back again. Not purposely, of course.

It was almost nearly undeniable to reject the portal. It whispers to you, it’s unintelligible words calling you in like some sort of chant. Even if you did reject its whispers, it would forcefully pull you through by an unknown force.

That happened on my umpteenth time coming back to the world. I was too busy trying to get stuff done within my world, I got sucked into the portal.

Moreover, within these questionable timings of the portal. It became a regular thing in their world as the portal put me in the same place before, the throne room. There was always an Custodes posted there to await my untimely arrival. Ready to escort me throughout the maze of the structure, or if ordered, to my own “personal quarters.”

That wasn’t something I particularly liked at first.

Sure, it was nice to have a personal bodyguard. To have my own luxurious room decorated with softest, silkiest sheets I have ever touched in my life, but it wasn’t what I was used to. It wasn’t my lifestyle. It was different, unfathomable; shouldn’t be happening.

Non of this should be happening.

I shouldn’t be in the world of gods, and demigods. I shouldn’t be even meeting with them sharing the same ground as them and it wasn’t out of their divinity, but it was because I don’t belong here. This wasn’t my world. It wasn’t my universe.

This whole thing… just wasn’t right, but who to say anything to practical gods? Who’s to say anything against a cursed portal?

Not that “heroic” boyfriend. His blood stains the ground of the cell for… talking too much.

#warhammer 40k #fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #snippet #introduction #Yandere? Yandere.#the emperor of mankind #adeptus custodes #and more

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headspace-hotel · 2 years

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Feelings about purely instrumental music? I got into it by way of listening to enough video game OSTs that lyrical music now feels like a genre I have to like, break into. Interesting because for most people alive today, music inherently includes lyrics and meaning derived from them.

I got into music in general through instrumental music, really. Two Steps from Hell, Audiomachine, and Really Slow Motion are still some of my most commonly listened to artists.

Those three belong to a niche category of artist that basically makes music for trailers. Like, movie trailers. You have almost certainly heard Audiomachine's music before, if you haven't been living under a rock. (No shade if you do, in fact, live under a rock. Sounds like an ideal way to live in this day and age.)

Two Steps from Hell became popular enough early on among regular people who just, enjoyed their songs, to switch over to primarily making music for regular human listeners, rather than movie trailers. They are truly an experience, and do things like introduce dubstep and electric guitar solos into what otherwise sounds like a "classical" orchestral track.

Other good artists that roughly fall within this category include Valentin Weist, BrunuhVille, Twisted Jukebox, Kari Sigurdsson, and City of the Fallen.

Shit i'm going to have to make a detailed list of recs huh.

Two Steps from Hell...okay. I'm going to focus on them because TSFH really was what introduced me to how powerful music could be to just wreck your shit body and soul. Their music is epic as in "gives you full-body chills and makes you feel like a god" transcendent.

Compared with most of the others, TSFH is a lot more varied both in tone and in just...the range of weird stuff that they do. Some of their songs are completely unique sounding and impossible to compare to anything else.

ok all right just bear with me

"epic" adventurous dragon riding with dual wielding laser swords: High C's, Clock Tower Parade, Never Give Up On Your Dreams, Flight of the Silverbird, Victory, Realm of Power, Impossible, Fall of the Fountain World, Skulls and Trombones, Norwegian Pirate, Color the Sky

Narrative/character sketch stuff: Blackheart, Caradhras, Dangerous* (*has lyrics!)

Tour de force through a Realm: Amaria/Welcome to Amaria (same song, released twice under diff names), Big Sky, Science, Starfall, Phantom

Dramatic Dark Tunes For Villainy: Chase the Light, Queen of Crows, The Raven Talks Backwards, Stormkeeper, Breath of Cold Air, 1000 Ships of the Underworld, Asimov

what the FUCK is this aka songs that transcend normal categorization more than usual: Casablanca, Future Fortress, Lost in Las Vegas, All is Hell that Ends Well, Replicate, Winterspell

Nothing prepares you for realizing that TSFH has hundreds of songs and somehow almost every single one of them is the best song you've ever heard and compels you to listen to it over and over again. It's madness.

There is no way to fully describe Two Steps from Hell. "Genre" is as dust sifting through frail mortal fingertips to them. You will listen to dark orchestral Viking EDM dubstep pirate metal with Latin choir and you will FUCKING LIKE IT.

#music #two steps from hell

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webshood · 30 days

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saw mootie's post (forgot prns @, it was early in the morning lol) about sentient Gotham and I'd like to give in my two cents

Gotham: Cursed Soil.

Young mage, full of arrogance, the type that withers with time and experience, they decide that they're going to solve Gotham's curse. They're no gothamite, but everyone who's even a little bit magic knows that the city is cursed and despite that, our mage, who's powerful beyond their age, but lacking the caution and experience, puts themselves in danger by studying the city.

Old newspapers and tomes heavier than anything, it's all fuzzy, not properly documented, gaelic and latin mixing between pages, but our mage, who's quite lucky manages to find a magic good enough to heighten the aura of curses. Gotham spends seven dark gloomy days, unstopping rain and a cold that not even Mr. Freeze could compare. In the end, the goal was achieved, the mage found Gotham's curse.

However, there's something wrong with the curse... The runes don't look quite right... Our mage tries purifying it at first, see how the magic circle reacts, it's definitely very powerful magic, yet... Not a curse... But a seal, keeping something locked away.

And that's when things start to go wrong.

Black tentacles reach out to our mage, covering their arms and chest, they can feel the magic draining, body getting even more weaker by the seconds. They're trying to fight against it, break contact, not feed this thing that is clearly trying to consume them whole.

The time seems to slow down, our mage doesn't know, but the rain gets stronger, every lightbulb starts to pop, the whole city goes dark and a strange light is carried through the soil, Gotham's heart beats... One... Two... Three... Four......

Like it's bringing itself to life, the strange light grazes through every coffin, draining the dead of it's flesh and bones, until it stops in the heart of Gotham's cemetery side by side with Martha Wayne's grave, on her grandsons coffin.

The young kid inside it convulses, dried up lungs taking on desperate breaths, the kid is not all there, but the body reacts and does what is needed to save itself. It takes a while for the boy to get out, he almost dies two more times, expensive tailored suit covered in dirty and grime, fingers raw from all the digging.

Gotham city had detected a danger to it's seal and summoned a knight to fight in it's defense, nobody bothered to tell Jason that.

Bonus:

Catatonic Jason only speaks, knight, protect and Gotham. So people just think he's a rebellious teenager who's a hardcore Gotham Knights fan, Talia hears this and is like "wait that sounds like my eldest kid!"

#jason todd #dc comics #red hood #batfam #writing prompt

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littlelightfish · 11 days

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Prince Holm voices rating

[This is based on how much I feel the voices matches his character, I have no idea of how does this languages work]

Japaneese: 8/10, I like it, but it could be better. The emotions are on point, but his voice isn't his.

Spanish: 10/10. Relaxed, mature, very Holm. When he is supposed to panic, he gets annoyed/upset with Kabru, but it works well (he doesn't want to put his undine in danger).

Latin American Spanish: 6/10, sounds too "teen". I can't explain it. Somehow he sounds like he's being sarcastic all the time when he's not that kind of character. And also sounds younger. Somehow.

English: 8/10. Relaxed, wise, but not Holm enough for me.

French: 7/10. The voice sounds like he's lacking of the emotion he's showing sometimes to me. He needs to relax a bit, why he talks so fast, is it all french?

Italian: 6/10 HE SOUNDS LIKE A CHILD. He's got all of Holm right but WHY LIKE A KID.

Hindi: 10/10. Idk I loved it. He sounds like him. Perfect. He sounds the right age, calm, and when he panics he sounds like he's about to cry and I love him.

Brazilian Portuguesse: 7/10. Not old enough to me. Too energetic maybe? Possibly a language thing but idk.

Indonesian: 5/10. Sounds like a babygirl. I mean... he is, but... Sounds wrong to me.

German: 9/10. Hard time with this one. His voice doesn't match his face, but the spirit is there. Also, too young.

Thai: 10/10. I loved. He sounds just right.

Arab: 9/10. This was a close 10 but he lacks of emotion on the panic scene so...

#again... this is my personal opinion #and only with holm's voices #I dont even know if they sound similar with each other #but they are the ones that make me think: yea that sounds like him #no hate to the VA #nor to the languages? idk #dungeon meshi #dunmeshi #delicious in dungeon #holm #holm dungeon meshi #holm kranom

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imnobodyposts · 8 months

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Jackie Welles headcanons - SFW

Pairing: Jackie Welles x reader

Words: drabble.

(Needed to post something! Might do an nsfw headcanon eventually. 🤷🏽‍♀️)

Under his tough, chromed out and tatted up exterior, Jackie definitely has the personality of a golden retriever when he isn't faced with danger or dealing with some piece-of-shit thug. He's excitable, enthusiastic, and not afraid to wear his heart on his sleeve.

He's open to anything you have to say. Those closest to him is his top priority. That also means he tries his best to be there for you as much as he can, be your shoulder to cry on at any time.

He isn't closed off when it involves showing emotions. Not that he cries every time he feels a lump in his throat (and definitely wouldn't cry in front of anyone else besides his ma' and maybe a close friend), but when he can't hold it back, he will ball his eyes out in front of you. It's comforting for Jackie to know that he can trust you with his feelings and thoughts, no matter what they are.

He gives awesome bear hugs. That's like his whole shtick. He would just pick you up and practically suffocate you in his strong arms. Obviously, he'd apologize if he fears your air supply was being compromised.

Jackie is corny asf! It can almost be comical sometimes when he says something overtly poetic when he's having a deep conversation or flirting with you. He just laughs with you instead of pushing through "embarrassment". He knows you love him and at the end of the day, your appreciation of him is more than enough.

Canon: He loves to dance. He can look a little goofy while doing so, but it's the spirit that keeps him in the rhythm.

My headcanon however, is when you two are at home and you're cooking or doing something that involves being stationary. There would be some Latin music playing melodically in the background. Jackie would motion up to you from behind, resting his thick hands on your hips and sensually sway with you to the music. He can be such a flirt, but you're not complaining.

Also canon: Jackie can get pretty anxious. His voice or his facial expressions may not show signs of his nervousness, but his body language sticks out like a sore thumb.

Jackie feels much comfort though, when you hold his hand or rub his forearm. if you're alone, there's an opportunity and you lock each other into an embrace, smoothing your hand over the broadness of his back. Vice versa, Jackie would do the same for you.

#fanfiction #fluff #comfort #sfw #jackie welles #jackie welles x reader #jackie welles x you #cyberpunk 2077

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kissingghouls · 8 months

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Let the Poison Spill

Chapter Nine - Return (ao3) // (previous chapter) // (list)

Cardinal Copia x f!Reader, Terzo x f!Reader

summary: Cardinal Copia knows just which Ritual to teach you. (4000 words)

tags: NSFW, MDNI, 18+, SMUT, Copia x Reader, Terzo x Reader, Secret Society, Horror Themes, Magic, more tags on ao3

The air of Copia’s quarters was thick with a haze of incense and wisps of swirling, smoky trails caught between the bars of the late afternoon sun. It gave the place a warm, inviting feeling—the first you had ever felt within the Order. The reality was anything but.

You’d thought, maybe somewhat naïvely, that Copia would be happy to see you. Sure, he was aloof around prying eyes, but the moments you’d shared behind closed doors had always been so intense you expected something. Instead, he wore a blank expression—the same he had in Imperator’s office. An unreadable mask that only reminded you that you barely knew him.

The two of you sat cross-legged on the floor, choking on the smell of woodsmoke and clove. The furniture had been pushed against the walls, leaving an open space in the middle of the room. The plush rug was also gone, replaced by a series of symbols etched onto the floor in thick white chalk.

Most of your preconceived notions of the Order had looked something like this. Some bullshit approximation of people in masks casting magic and dancing naked under the moon. This was the first time anything had even come close; even Secondo’s little experiments with your blood had looked sterile, scientific. Neither of you were dancing naked, but with this place you could never fully rule something out.

Even the mysterious Cardinal had surprised you by owning casual clothes.

His eyebrows knitted together as he cast a sprig of some unknown plant into the cauldron set between you, a flurry of sparks spitting into the air as it burned. He grinned softly, smoke licking at his features as he raised his eyes to you. He motioned for you to stand and offered a hand to help you to your feet.

His fingers traced up your arm and over your shoulder as he stepped behind you, instructing you to close your eyes. Finally, the two of you seemed to be getting somewhere. Your legs ached from sitting on the hard floor for the last hour. You had listened to him carry on about the nature of intention and memorizing near-impossible Latin phrases, but all you really wanted was to be pinned beneath him. The Cardinal had some horrible hold on you each time you saw him, one you knew from experience was equal parts dangerous and irresistible. Terzo was more of an open book, direct with what he wanted and his affections. Hell, everyone seemed to expect it from him. But Copia was frustrating, often saying one thing and doing another.

From the second you’d arrived for your little lesson he’d barely acknowledged you but now—now his hands were everywhere touching every inch of you.

“Focus, dolce,” he hummed into your ear, keeping his voice sultry and low. There was no way he wasn’t doing this on purpose, hovering just close enough for his breath to fan hotly across your skin. Everything about him was too warm, from the subtle hint of his soap to the trace of bourbon on his breath. It radiated through his black t-shirt, an article of clothing you could barely believe he owned.

“I am focused,” you sang back.

He tsked. “If you are talking to me, you are not focused.”

“Maybe if you didn’t have your hands—”

“Ah, ah, dolcezza,” he warned, tapping your nose with his finger. “Focus.”

You closed your eyes and began to chant the incantation he had taught you. Moving in front of you, Copia traced his fingers over the sigils he’d drawn across your collarbones. The odd Latin phrases fell from his lips, syncing in time with the chant falling from yours.

The words felt heavy in your mouth, awkward and hard to pronounce as he moved to the symbol on your chest. He traced it once, twice, and a third time before laying his palm flat over the mark. He set his other hand against the small of your back, keeping you upright as the dizziness set in. He warned you repeatedly before you began, but it was so much worse than he let on.

Your jaw felt tight, head swimming as you tried to focus on the words. Your knees buckled, threatening to give out completely as you recited the last section.

“Bene,” Copia said softly. “Open your eyes, dolce.”

Slowly, you opened one eye just enough to catch him smirking at you. With a groan, you let your shoulders sag with disappointment. “What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing, dolce. How do you feel?”

“Dizzy,” you replied flatly.

“Let me help you,” he offered, his smirk shifting into a devilish smile.

As he slipped his hand in yours, you felt an overwhelming surge of energy where your palms met. It shot up your arm and through your body, knocking you off balance enough that you fell into him. His other hand quickly slid over the small of your back to keep you steady as sparks of something you didn’t have words for danced up your spine.

“How do you feel now, tesoro?”

“What the hell did you make me do, Copia?” you hissed through gritted teeth. The feeling wasn’t painful; it was almost the exact opposite—the kind of high that was dangerous and addictive and really fucking scary if no one told you what to expect.

“A small enhancement Ritual, dolcezza. This one heightens your sense of touch. Simple, but,” he paused to draw his thumb over your back, that devilish grin growing wider as you tried not to moan. “It does work rather well, yes?”

“You did this on purpose,” you whined, trying to arch away from his touch.

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug. “But I’m afraid it wears off too quickly to be very useful.”

“You could have just said you missed me. Like a normal person.”

“I have missed you, dolce,” he said lowly, his lips ghosting over your ear. “Is that what you want to hear, hmm? How the Cardinal aches for you? I’m afraid I may not be as patient as I once thought.”

You relaxed against him, the buzz of all that extra energy slowly leaving your fingertips. The spell wore off, the spark of contact just a distant feeling as Copia tightened his hold on you. “Why didn’t you do anything about it?”

He chuckled softly and gave you a little squeeze. “Are you not currently in my arms, dolce?”

“That’s not what I meant,” you groaned, rolling your eyes.

He spun you around to face him. “Did you think this was all Sister Imperator’s idea?”

“Wait—”

“I can’t, dolce,” he whispered and pulled you close. His grip tightened as his lips crashed against yours, capturing you in a hungry kiss that had your knees buckling again.

He edged you backward, hands pushing you to the edge of the room as his tongue slipped into your mouth. He kept moving, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip and his hands pawing at your ass until he had you where he wanted you. The two of you toppled onto his sofa, a false apology mumbled into your mouth as he hitched your legs around his waist.

“Satanas,” he groaned, grinding his cock against you. “You…”

“What?”

“You are something else, dolce. Hell sent; I think.”

You rolled your eyes and looked away to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks. He seized the opportunity to start on your neck, whispering praises between each fevered kiss with a hand pressed tight around your throat.

“Can I have you again, dolce?” he asked as he rutted against you. “Will you let me?”

“Was this your plan the entire time?”

He paused, staring down at you with an almost bashful look. “Plan? No, dolce. More of an old man’s desperate hope, I’m afraid.”

You slipped your hand into the waistband of his pants, fingertips barely grazing his length. You smiles as his eyes fluttered. “I can feel your desperation, Cardinal.”

His head dropped to your chest as you closed your fist around his cock and pumped him slowly. “Sì,” he whined. “I am a desperate man, Sorella. I’ve thought of nothing but the taste of you since we last met.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Nothing else?”

He pressed his lips to the spot just below your ear, a pleased hum escaping his lips as you moaned. “The taste of you, the feeling of you. What I would do to you if I was given another opportunity…” He trailed off, grunting as you squeezed the base of his cock. “How I could make you scream my name.”

You let out a surprised “oh,” much to his delight. He sat back, balancing on his knees as his now free hands tugged at your leggings. You raised your hips and Copia nearly ripped the fabric from your body to get his hands on you. He wasted no time pushing your thighs apart to look at your sex with a little glow in his eyes. His fingers dipped into your entrance, sliding easily through your slick as he groaned. He pushed your shirt up with his other hand and pulled at the cups of your bra, eagerly bringing his mouth to your tits. He couldn’t seem to get enough of you, his hands and teeth fighting for new places to mark and explore.

You ran a hand through his hair, grip tightening on the greying strands as he bit down and curled his fingers against the sweet spot in your cunt. All you could do was whimper as he continued to work you over.

“You are beautiful like this, dolce,” he mumbled against your chest. “Desperate for me too, no?”

You nodded, your hips involuntarily bucking against his hand. He grinned as he withdrew his fingers, ignoring your protests as he stared you down. Slowly, he sucked his fingers into his mouth, his eyes rolling back as he finally got what he wanted. He drew them out with a pop and pressed them to your lips, his mouth falling open as you licked the remaining traces of yourself from his hand.

“Come here,” he commanded and pulled you up, crushing his mouth against yours. He grabbed at your hips, breaking the kiss so he could face you away from him. He smoothed his hands over your back, pushing you down into the sofa as he dragged his cock between your folds.

He pushed into you, filling you without warning. The stretch of him was too good, your cunt immediately tightening around him as he swore and stilled himself. He allowed you a moment of respite before he snapped his hips so hard any and all intelligent thought left you. You grabbed at the sofa, hands searching for something to keep you grounded as he tipped your hips just so, thrusting into you at an agonizingly slow pace. He made sure you felt every thick inch of him until you were nothing more than a babbling mess.

“I told you I’d have you slowly,” he whispered against your ear as he leaned into you. His hand trailed down, barely brushing over your clit.

You could only whine in response, desperately pushing back against him. He brought his hand down sharply across your ass and smoothed over the sting as the drag of his cock picked up slightly.

“Is that what you want, dolce? You want the Cardinal to fuck you senseless, hmm?”

“Copia, please.”

“So pretty when you beg, dolce,” he hummed as he bent forward and pressed a kissed between your shoulder blades. He grabbed your neck and pulled you up with him as he sat back, his cock reaching an impossible angle that brought tears to your eyes.

“Do you feel what you do to me?” he asked as he thrust into you, his hand closing around your throat.

He began to fuck you in earnest, tiny sounds somewhere between pleasure and pain leaving you with each hard and rough snap. His fingers found your clit once more, relentlessly teasing your nerves as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. Tears stung your eyes as the hand around your neck added just enough pressure to make you lightheaded for a moment. A well placed flick of his wrist combined with his circling hips nearly broke you, vision going white as you came hard around him, screaming his name just like he wanted. He followed right behind you, filling you with his seed as he growled and bit into your shoulder before sucking a painful mark over the spot.

The two of you collapsed, unable to keep yourselves upright anymore. The weight of him was comforting, but he was slick with sweat and radiating an ungodly heat that made it even harder to catch your breath. He dotted a few kisses over your neck before he peeled himself off you and sank into the sofa.

“Dolce, you might be the death of me,” he mused in a dreamy tone.

“Pretty sure you just tried to fuck me to death.”

“Hmm, but what a way to go.”

You gave him a weak, playful shove, letting him catch your wrist and pull you close as you pretended to try to get away. He held you there, your face pressed into the soft hair of his sweaty chest.

“Copia?”

“Yes, cara mia?” he replied, smoothing his hand over your hair.

“How is this supposed to work?”

“What do you mean, dolce?” he asked, his fingers passing through your hair to massage your scalp.

“I mean, how does it all work? Are we even allowed to be doing this?”

“What are we doing? Studying?”

“Fucking.”

“Ah.”

“Look, it’s no big deal. I just…I just want to know if I’m supposed to be keeping a secret.”

He sighed and brought his hand under your chin, urging you to look at him. “We are allowed to do whatever we wish, dolcezza.”

“So, what? You guys can date? The clergy can get married?”

“Are you proposing, cara?” he asked, amused.

“I’m trying to have a conversation with you.”

“I’m sorry,” he said and gave your shoulder a squeeze. “I’m afraid I’ve never had to explain myself to someone from the outside world before, but it is my fault for taking that for granted. Everyone here, from Papa to the Siblings and the Ghouls, everyone can date. They can also marry if they wish. Though it’s not often that people within the Order commit to monogamy if I’m honest. There are certain, eh, positions one could take on, but even those tend to be more ceremonial these days. We are all taught to indulge from an early age, dolce. And in a place like this there are many temptations.

Personally, I’ve always preferred to keep my private life and who I share it with to myself. Some of the others talk too much and try to show off, but I see enough of that during the Offering Rituals. You, however, are under no obligation to keep quiet about anything if you so choose. I have no right to ask that of you. Except maybe don’t run off and tell Sister Imperator.”

You snorted. “Yep, that’s exactly who I want to share details of my sex life with.”

“That choice is yours, dolce. Though I doubt she would appreciate it very much.”

“Oh, you don’t want tales of your prowess posted on the community board?”

He clicked his tongue. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

You shook your head and pushed away from him. “On that note—”

“Oh, no, dolce,” he purred, wrapping his arms tight around you. “Tonight, you are mine.”

“Is that right?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Am I not dripping down your thighs as we speak?”

You groaned and buried your face in his chest to hide your blush.

“I let you get away last time,” he continued. “Besides, now that you are properly relaxed there are a few more interesting Rituals I can teach you.”

-x-

You knew better than to let yourself get attached to a man who took the time to tell you about the temptations of the world, but it did little to keep you from smiling as you woke up next to Copia. His stupid, too big bed provided just the right amount of comfort and warmth in the drafty abbey. It didn’t hurt that he’d locked an arm around your waist and fell into a deep sleep pressed against you either.

You quickly learned that he was a man of his routines as a series of alarms began to sound, one after another, at promptly five A.M. No amount of nudity or promised sexual favors could lure the Cardinal back to bed, much to your disappointment. You helped yourself to one of his shirts as he showered, only bothering with a couple of buttons. The lure of freshly brewing coffee had you drifting through the sitting room and into his tiny kitchen to wait for a caffeine fix.

As the coffee maker beeped to indicate the end of its cycle, Copia emerged from the bedroom wearing nothing but a towel around his hips and a determined look. You let out a low whistle, tilting your head to admire the way water dripped from his hair and down his chest.

“How do you take your coffee, dolce?” he asked as he opened the cabinet to retrieve two mugs. “Sweet like you?”

You made a face and shook your head.

“What? Not good?”

You clicked your tongue. “Let’s just say if you didn’t have an ass like that, I’d already be gone.”

He wiggled his eyebrows at you. “You like my assets.”

You groaned and jumped up from the chair to make a break for the door. A tiny yelp escaped you as Copia caught you around the middle and dragged you back toward the kitchen. Your feet smeared the chalk sigils on the floor, rendering them completely powerless now. You leaned against him, happy to have even a second of something close to resembling normal in this fucking place. He kissed the top of your head before releasing you, turning back to the very important matter of coffee—or at least what was left of it after he dumped half a bottle of creamer into his.

The goodbye was short, both of you knowing it would be easier to sneak back to the dorms sooner rather than later. You still brought a hand to your kiss-swollen lips, tracing over the places that still tasted like Copia and his caramel flavored creamer.

You knew better, but you still hoped you would get to see him again soon.

A few Siblings rushed past you as you exited the stairwell to your floor. They quickly covered their mouths with their hands, leaning over to whisper to one another. Any other time, you could have brushed it off and assumed they were talking about anything, but the direct eye contact gave them away. You shook you head, running a hand through your messy hair as you tried to let it go.

Halfway down the hall Mary fidgeted nervously, hands tapping out a fast rhythm on his thighs. His eyes went wide as he spotted you, nearly knocking you over as he rushed forward. They grabbed ahold of you and pulled you into a random Sibling’s room.

“Ma—” He cut you off by clamping a hand over your mouth.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he hissed angrily. “It’s pretty fucking obvious what you’ve been up to.”

“That’s none of your business,” you snapped and shoved him away.

“Oh my god,” they groaned. “Kitten, I really do not care who you are fucking, but if it keeps getting me in trouble, I will find them and kill them myself.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Imperator is looking for you. Again.”

“What? Why?”

“You think she’s gonna tell me a fuckin’ thing? All I know is that she’s been looking for you all morning and fucking up my beauty rest.”

“Is that your code for a Ghoul booty call?”

“Said the Novitiate walking around looking well and thoroughly fucked,” he bit back, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t know if anyone has told you, but we all had lives before you got here. I’d prefer it if you didn’t fuck mine up just for some dick.”

“Mary, I’m sorry.”

He huffed out a ragged breath. “Me too, Kitten. C’mon, I have an idea.”

You followed Mary into the bathroom, squealing as he shoved your head under the spray of the shower. Once he was satisfied you looked like a drowned rat, he gave you a big toothy grin.

“How is this supposed to help?” you growled.

“Just follow my lead, Kitten,” he instructed and wrapped a towel around your shoulders.

Hesitantly, you trailed behind Mary as they made their way to your dorm. Sister Imperator was standing at your wardrobe, muttering to herself and angrily flicking through the selection of clothes the Order had provided.

“Sorry Sister Imperator,” Mary sang as they grabbed your hand and pulled you into the room. “Guess I had a little too much quintessence ghoul last night and forgot the Novitiate was using the shower in Sister Jeni’s room.”

Imperator made a face and stared your mentor down. “Mary, there are things that you can keep to yourself.” She sighed thoughtfully. “But I suppose we’ve all been there before.”

“You know how it is,” they added with a light laugh.

“Good morning, Sister,” Imperator greeted you with a dip of her head. “Something wrong with your shower?”

“Pressure’s off in the morning sometimes,” you replied without missing a beat.

She nodded. “The dorms are past due for a remodel, I’m afraid. Perhaps you could bring it up at dinner tonight.”

You shot Mary a look, but he simply shrugged. “I’m sorry, Sister. I don’t follow?”

She turned back to your wardrobe, searching through it with a renewed fervor. Ever since you met her the nun had been meticulous about her look, but now you could see her hair falling out of place and several wrinkles creased through the back of her blazer. Whatever she was here for was clearly bothering her. “Well, my dear,” she started, raising her voice over the scrape of clothes hangers sliding angrily across the bar. “It seems you’ve caught the eye of Papa Emeritus the Third. I can’t say I’m exactly surprised, but as always, he has a rather peculiar gift for timing.”

“I’m sorry?”

She gave an exasperated sigh as she turned to look at you, pieces of hair now falling over her face. “Terzo has chosen you as his escort for the Lupercalia festival.”

“He what?” you and Mary asked at the same time.

She ignored you. “Of course, he would pull something like this and interrupt your Ritual lessons. The man has never had any respect for our traditions—How was your first lesson with Copia, dear?"

You cleared your throat. “Eventful.”

“Wonderful! I’m glad to hear you and the Cardinal are getting along. Lucifer knows he can be unbearably dull.” She whipped around and shoved a dress into your hands. “I suppose this will have to do.”

“For the festival?”

She let out a genuine laugh. “Satanas, no. We’ll have something fitting made for you, dear girl. You will wear this tonight when you meet Papa Nihil.”

“Papa…Nihil?”

“Honestly Mary,” she tsked. “You’re supposed to be teaching her, no? Dear, Papa Nihil is Terzo’s father. I’m afraid his health has kept him from the congregation for some time now, but he has insisted you join the family for dinner. I will come get you promptly at 7. Understood?”

“Yes, Sister.”

“Great,” she replied with a tight smile before flitting from the room.

“Mary?”

“Yeah Kitten?” he asked, still standing close enough to be of some comfort. You were grateful that Imperator didn’t appear to care whether Mary was at your side when she made these declarations.

“What the hell just happened?” You voice was small, a tiny weak pitch that failed to echo off the walls of your room. Moments before, you’d felt so powerful, able to capture the attention of that handsome Cardinal. To have him hold you through the night, insisting that you stay with him made you feel like a goddess. But your divinity seemed to reach much further than you realized and ensnared the equally handsome Antipope. And that appeared to come with expectations and consequences you weren’t exactly prepared for.

“No fuckin’ clue,” Mary admitted, shaking their head. “But this ain’t gonna be good.”

Creative block and real life have been a pain lately, but we did it. Thank you to everyone who has interacted and left comments and hoped that I would update soon. Was hit with A LOT of ideas for this one, so hopefully my brain will keep up. 💜

#mdni #my fics #my writing #Cardinal Copia x reader #copia x reader #cardinal copia x female reader #papa emeritus iii x reader #papa emeritus iii x female reader #copia smut #the band ghost fanfiction

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