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bratzforchris · 7 months

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Billionaire Baby

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Summary: In which Luke pays off your tuition in full and only asks for one thing in return

Pairing: Sugar daddy and investment banker!Luke x sub!reader

Warnings: Smut, dom/sub dynamics, nonsexual submission, overstimulation, jacuzzi fucking, doggy style, mentions of free use, unprotected p in v, fingering, underage drinking given to reader by Luke, sugar daddy mentions, student (university/18+) x older male relationship, bondage, Luke has an obedience kink, overall really fucking filthy and a bit fluffy ;)

Word Count: 5.1k

A/N: Luke leans more towards boyfriend instead of sugar daddy than I originally planned, but I still adore this work anyway. I put my heart and soul into this piece, so reblogs are much appreciated :)!

DNI under 18

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“What the fuck…” You mumbled, scrolling through your email.

You were sitting in the library, trying to study for your upcoming biochem exam, but failing a bit. You were getting distracted by everything, hence why you were scrolling through your email on your laptop instead of studying. The email was from two hours ago and it was asking you to come to the dean’s office today at three for a meeting.

You began to panic a bit, wondering why on earth the dean wanted to have a meeting with you. You had never, ever been in trouble academically or ever, for that matter. You were a bit behind on your loan payments, but not so much they were rescinding your admission, right? You cursed when you realized that it was currently two-thirty, and the dean’s office was on the other side of campus.

Quickly shoving your laptop, books, and stationery into your bookbag, you hurried out of the library that you loved oh-so-dearly. Going to Columbia University had been your dream since second grade, and that day that you saw the main library on your tour in tenth grade just confirmed that this was the school for you.

You slowed your pace a bit when you got closer to the building, taking a moment to soak in the crisp, fall air and the splotches of autumn that decorated the New York City sidewalks. You pulled your cardigan tighter around yourself and hurried up the steps of the School of Professional Studies.

“Hi,” You whispered quietly to the lady at the front desk as you signed in.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said, eyeing you up and down. “You’re a very lucky girl.” she winked.

You furrowed your brow, wanting to ask what she meant, but not wanting to be rude. You eventually just shook your head and sat down in the lobby while you waited to be called back. This was a huge school, full of children of the rich and famous. She must’ve had you confused with someone else.

“Y/N Y/L/N?” the dean asked, walking out into the lobby. “Follow me.”

You quickly picked up your backpack and followed him, deep into the building where his office was sat. You struggled a bit to keep up with his long strides, being a bit out of breath when you finally reached his office.

“Take a seat,” he said not unkindly, opening the door for you. “This will be quick.”

You took a tentative seat on one of the down chairs on the opposite side of the desk, trying to control your breathing. You were afraid your features would show your fear, so you tried to keep your face even.

“Ms. Y/L/N, you are extremely lucky…” he started. “Your tuition has been paid in full by an anonymous donor, to include everything you will need to complete your undergraduate degree.” he smiled.

“I’m sorry, what?” You asked, trying to stay polite, but also wanting to know what the fuck was going on.

“Someone has paid your tuition in full. Do you have any idea who it could be?”

“I…no…” You said, hoping the blush wouldn’t creep onto your cheeks.

You knew exactly who it was. There was only one person in your life that had that much money. Ivy League schooling wasn’t cheap, after all. You wouldn’t tell the dean who it was, though. That wouldn’t be good for a number of reasons.

“Enjoy your time here at Columbia, Y/N. You’re free to go.” the dean smiled, nodding towards the door.

You stood on shaky legs and walked out of the room, trying to process what you had just heard. No more student loan payments, no more living paycheck-to-paycheck, no more working at your shitty fast food job until 2 am. You pulled your phone out of the back pocket of your jeans and typed out a message as you walked out of the building and stood on the steps.

You: was it you???

Luke: Was what me, darling?

You: you know exactly what i’m talking about

You sighed, deciding to walk the half a block to your favorite cafe while you waited for Luke’s response. Your relationship with the blond was complicated. He wasn’t quite your sugar daddy, but he also wasn’t fully your boyfriend. It was never meant to spiral into a relationship, but Luke made you want more. Being a Columbia graduate himself, you had met him at a philanthropy event last spring. You had shared drinks and dancing, before he took you back to his large penthouse for a hook-up.

Ever since then, Luke had made it clear that he enjoyed your company. He spoiled you beyond belief, both with material things and with a very active sex life. Being a Wall Street investment banker had given him the attitude that he would take what he wanted, and you were no exception. As much as you were an independent woman in your studies, having Luke in your life took some of the stress away. Going over to his place after a long day of classes, only to receive a mountain of physical affection and usually a gift or two, was just what you needed.

Just as you finished ordering your chai latte, your phone pinged with a new message. You sat down at a cozy table in the corner and pulled out your laptop while you waited for your coffee, looking over the text.

Luke: Come over. You’re done with classes for today, right?

Luke: I’ll order dinner.

You smiled, tucking a strand of hair that had fallen loose from your braid behind your ear. You quickly typed out a message, thumbs flying across the screen. Even as frustrated as you were at the possibility of Luke paying off all of your tuition, you couldn’t help the way your heart skipped a beat at the thought of seeing him.

You: getting coffee, then i will<3

You smiled when Luke typed back three red hearts. He was never one for emojis, mostly because of how professional he was. Every now and then though, you were the lucky one to see that softer, less-professional side of him. As soon as your coffee was placed in your hand, you dashed out the cafe door, walking towards the nearest subway station to catch the train to Luke’s apartment at the southern end of Central Park.

Your heart was absolutely racing as you got closer and closer to the blond. Luke was unlike anyone you had ever met. He had an almost electric pull on you. Luke bore a striking resemblance to a prince, or maybe a king. The way he commanded his office and then carried that dominance home to you was probably the hottest thing you had ever experienced in your twenty years of life.

As soon as the subway pulled up to your stop, you were leaping off the train and up the stairs to the sidewalk. As soon as you got out of the tunnel, you couldn’t help but to crane your neck. No matter how many times you came to Luke’s apartment, you couldn’t help but to be in utter awe when you came upon Billionaire’s Row. The sky-high buildings made of glass and steel were highlighted so beautifully by the rest of the city lights.

You hurried your pace a bit, eager to see Luke inside of one of those penthouse suites. Eventually, you came upon the building that you knew all too well. Walking inside the lobby, the man at the front desk smiled at you, his name tag reading Randy.

“He’s home,” he smiled. “Right over here.”

“Thanks,” You smiled. “I don’t mind taking the regular elevator, y’know.”

“Oh, please. Take this one.” he unlocked the private elevator that would take you directly to Luke’s apartment.

“Thank you,” You smiled as the doors began to close when you stepped in. “I’ll see you later?”

“If you leave tonight.” Randy chuckled.

As soon as you were on your way up, your heart began to flutter faster. You hadn’t seen Luke in a few days because the stock market had been picking up and so had your classes, which made you so beyond eager to be around him once again. The elevator dinged and the doors to Luke’s apartment opened.

You stepped out onto the plushy, white carpet, looking around for the blond. “Luke?”

“Hey baby,” he hummed, coming out of the kitchen and wrapping you in a hug. “Miss me?”

You giggled when he buried his face in your neck, his stubble scratching your neck. “I did.” You said sweetly.

As soon as Luke pulled back, you looked up into his deep blue eyes before speaking again. “Luke, were you the ‘anonymous donor’ that paid my tuition?”

“I was. What? I can’t spoil my girl?” he led you into the kitchen, rolling up the sleeves of his white button-down.

“Luke,” You insisted. “I never said that, but that’s hundreds of thousands of dollars. You don’t need to do that.”

“Watch your mouth, princess.” Luke gave you a stern look as he poured you a glass of Merlot.

You blushed, shrinking under his gaze. Even when it wasn’t sexual, Luke had a dominant aire about him. Maybe it was because he worked in such a high power industry, or maybe it was just the way he was, but the blond made you want to submit to him, clinging onto his every word.

“I just want to make sure we’re, y’know, equal. I want to make sure you feel loved, too.”

Luke slid the wine glass across the island to you, where you had taken a seat at the bar. “I don’t need that.”

You snorted. “Contrary to popular belief, you like feeling loved too.” You craned your neck and placed a kiss on his cheek.

Luke rolled his eyes, walking around the island and wrapping his arms around your midsection. “So you wanna know how you can make me feel appreciated?”

“If you wanna call it that, sure.” You shrugged.

“You can be my little toy for the next week. You’re free use for me,” he smirked, growling softly in your ear. “You think that’s equal?”

You nodded quickly, knowing Luke was going to take free advantage of the week, but not caring. “I think so.” You giggled.

“You know I love you, right?” Luke asked. “I don’t want you worrying about your tuition anymore. It’s done, it’s taken care of. You’re going to relax and let me make you feel good, darling.” he hummed, massaging your shoulders.

You blushed under the subtle dominance of Luke’s words, relaxing into his touch. You nudged your head into Luke’s chest and he chuckled softly, knowing exactly what you wanted.

“You’re so cute when you need me, baby girl.” he picked you, holding you under the ass and abandoning your wine glass on the counter so he could carry you to his large master bedroom.

You laid your head on his shoulder, speaking out a soft ‘I love you’. It had been a long day between classes and the stress of the news you’d received and now you just needed Luke to take care of you so you could relax for a little while.

Luke placed you down on his soft, silken sheets when you reached his bedroom, humming softly. “On your knees, honey.”

You did as he asked, kneeling softly and looking up at your dom with soft doe eyes. You were practically reeling with relaxation and happiness over Luke’s validation. You watched him softly while he bustled around the room, taking off his watch and getting things ready for the night.

“Good girl, baby,” Luke praised you. “You’re doing perfect, honey.”

“Thank you.” You said sweetly, knowing Luke enjoyed it when you responded verbally.

“Go wait in the bathroom for me, honey. I’ll be there soon.” Luke told you, looking at you sternly but speaking softly.

You scampered off to Luke’s luxurious bathroom, wondering what he had in mind. Usually, he would dom you in bed. You wasted no time on kneeling on the bath mat beside the jacuzzi tub, still fully clothed. If there was one thing you loved to do, it was be Luke’s sub. Something about letting someone else take the reins and guide you, sexually or not, helped you relieve your stress from attending such a demanding university.

Luke didn’t make you wait long. He came into the bathroom and saw you kneeling, giving you immediate praise. “Look at you, honey. Waiting like a good girl.” he cooed, flashing that million-dollar smile that had been on the cover of Forbes magazine last month.

You blushed, giggling softly. You could feel yourself slipping into subspace, that floaty feeling taking over your head as Luke fussed over you and took care of you. You leaned into his touch as he ran a hand through your hair, before moving to start the bath water.

“Nothing like a nice bath to help you relax, right love?” he smirked. “Arms up.”

You did as the blond asked and Luke pulled off your sweater. He left your glasses on, but reached for the button on your jeans. Luke slowly helped you stand up and then pulled your pants and your panties off, trailing little kisses from your collarbone down to your pubic bone. You could feel the way your body had completely relaxed into your subspace, molding like jelly at whatever Luke told you to do.

The blond fiddled with the settings on the tub, turning on the jets and adding the red lights, which were his absolute favorite. Luke put your favorite, rose-scented bath bomb into the tub before speaking. “Get in the bath, honey.”

You stepped into the large jacuzzi tub, holding Luke’s hand and sinking into the warm, fizzy water. “Thank you.”

Luke smirked, enjoying the way your face was tulip-pink at all the attention being showered on you by him. He wasn’t going to push you today; he had seen the stress lines that had burrowed their way deep onto your face. Besides, you two still needed to have the tuition conversation and he didn’t want you to be totally fucked out for that. Just enough to help you relax.

“I think you need some entertainment while you’re in the bath, hmm? Wouldn’t want you getting distracted…” he smirked, running his ring-clad pointer finger under your chin.

You immediately rested your chin on the ledge of the large tub, watching Luke with expectant eyes. He pulled back for a moment, just enough to make sure you were fully paying attention, but not enough to make you panic. Luke began to undo the buttons of his white shirt, smirking at you as he teased you so fucking slowly, ringed fingers pulsing as he worked.

Letting out a few soft, sensual moans didn’t seem to phase the blond. He simply continued to slowly undress, making sure you were watching the whole time. He wasn’t not not acknowledging you, but he also wasn’t giving you the attention you were oh-so-craving. Finally, Luke came to his gray, Calvin Klein boxers. He slid them off slowly, smirking at you as he did so.

“Mmmm, want you to dom me, Luke. Please. It’s so big.” You whined.

“Ahh ahh, we don’t whine, honey. I think you forgot to ask nicely, hmm?” Luke stood towering over you, completely naked, but in all his godlike authority.

Even in your fuzzy subspace, you could see why all of Luke’s female assistants fawned over him. He looked like something sent straight from Mount Olympus with his blond curls, perfect nose, and regal body type. He had a commanding aura about him, no matter what he was doing, and despite his multiple (yes, multiple) PhDs from different Ivy League universities, it was easy to understand how he did so well in the New York Stock Exchange.

“Sorry sir,” You whispered out. “Can you please dom me?” You asked in a sultry tone.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Luke planted a kiss on your head as he stepped into the tub with you. “Good fuckin’ girl.”

You giggled and blushed, still kneeling even in the bath. You kept your eyes trained on Luke, which proved a difficult task from here. Luke’s master bathroom was made up of crystal clear glass windows that allowed for a view of practically the whole city since he lived on the 69th floor. With the sun starting to fade into a hazy dusk and the lights of the skyscrapers popping on one-by-one, it was hard not to get distracted, but you wanted Luke’s pleasure much more than you wanted to enjoy the view.

You and Luke sat face-to-face, and he watched your eyes intently, wondering what joys he would unlock tonight. He began to rub your thigh up and down with his hand under the soapy water, keeping his eyes trained on you.

“Relax, pretty girl,” he whispered. “Just let me take care of you.”

You began to relax under Luke’s touch and gaze, that is, until he began to sneak his fingers closer and closer to your opening. You unconsciously clenched your thighs around Luke’s hand, your nerves sensitive. You began to whimper, wiggling your hips closer to meet his fingers.

“Oh god.” You whined.

Luke smirked, running his fingers along your wet slit and trailing it over your clit. He smirked as he did so, scooting closer to you. “I want you to cum all over my fingers, princess. Get all that stressed properly fucked out.”

You moaned, thrusting your hips against Luke’s pulsating fingers. The blond began to make small, raindrop-like pulses on your electric spot, enjoying the view as you squirmed under him, practically riding his fingers.

“Good girl, honey. Takin’ it like the slutty little school girl that you are.” he coached you.

Your climax was beginning to build up, and you couldn’t help the moans and whimpers that escaped from your mouth as Luke finger-fucked you. As he tapped near your clit, he used three fingers on the other hand to slowly slide them in and out of your pussy.

“That’s it, baby. That feel good? Yeah?” he smiled, knowing you were entirely too close to say anything other than small ‘yes’’s and ‘uh huh’’s.

You were nearly crying as you tried to hold yourself back from clenching and cumming all over Luke’s fingers until he told you to do so. Your sex was absolutely throbbing with the way Luke was touching you, and the warm water from the tub was not making it any easier.

“Luke,” You nearly screamed out. “Making me need to cum.”

The blond gave one last time of really working up your rhythm, before kissing your chest. “Go ahead and cum for me, baby. Cum all over my fingers.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You quickly released, and your walls began to clench around Luke’s fingers, coating them in your cum. The blond coached you through your climax, offering lots of praise and compliments.

“You are so pretty when you cum, princess,” he cooed when you had finished, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Takin’ my fingers like a good girl.”

You blushed under Luke’s words, leaning your head against his shoulder when he pulled you into his bare chest, hand running up and down your side. Luke had an almost intoxicating way of making your orgasms one of the most exhausting, but best, things you did.

“I think you need one more for good measure. Make sure all that stress is properly fucked out, yeah?” he asked you.

You quickly nodded, never saying no to Luke pleasuring you. The blond ran his fingers through your hair and down your face and upper body, making sure to keep you fully relaxed in subspace. Because you were essentially sitting on his lap, you could feel Luke’s cock hardening under you and you couldn’t help the blush that spread across your cheeks.

“Turn around on your knees, honey,” Luke coached, moving you off his lap. “Right over the jet.”

Doing as Luke asked, you had to bite your lip at the sensation of the rushing water tingling your clit. “Oh.” You moaned.

The blue-eyed man chuckled, caressing your upper back. “Feels so good, doesn’t it, princess?” he whispered in your ear.

You nodded, gripping the edge of the tub to keep yourself steady. Luke grabbed his white button-down that he had oh-so-conveniently placed on the tub ledge. He quickly used it to wrap your hands around the faucet.

“I want to make sure you enjoy this in the right way.”

You moaned at Luke’s erotic words, angling your hips back so that your ass would meet Luke’s boner. He pulled you back by the hips slowly, offering you lots of praise as your body melted like butter in his hands, allowing him to touch where and however. The blond told you to stay on your knees and lean forward into your bond, angling your back, and you whined as you felt the pressure placed on your already sensitive pussy, even without Luke’s dick.

Luke was practically a sex expert, and he knew your anatomy almost better than you did. That being said, he knew he needed to take you from behind in order to hit your G-spot. Your second orgasm was always faster than the first, and he wanted to make sure that he would get the pleasure of you cumming not only on his fingers, but on his dick as well.

He slowly straddled you from behind, his hips pushing into your ass, before inserting only his tip into you. The pleasure on the blond’s face was evident as he heard you release tiny moans and pants, already nearly overstimulated, just from an inch of him inside you.

“Someone’s eager,” he chuckled. “Did studying all day wear you out? Made you nice and needy for my dick, baby?”

You moaned, nodding your head and straddling against your restraints. “Yes…” You breathed out. “Yes sir.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Good girl.” Luke slid more of his dick inside of you, painstakingly teasing you.

You pushed your ass further against him, trying to take as much of him into you as possible. Luke was a big fan of doggy style and you had gone through this many times before; Luke didn’t give in to what you wanted right away, but nevertheless, you always tried. You tried desperately to distract yourself by looking out at the scenic cityspace in front of you, but the view was no match for the magic that was Luke.

“You are so fucking hot when you listen to me, Y/N,” Luke growled, tugging on the ends of your hair slightly. “Obeying just the way you’re supposed to like a good sugar baby.”

You moaned, craning your neck back and arching your back as the jets overstimulated your clit and electric spot and Luke’s dick teased your hole. “Uh huh…oh god, Luke.” You whined.

Finally, after what felt like forever to you, Luke slammed all eight inches of himself inside of you, bucking his hips so that you could feel his shaft pulsating. He began to ride you at an almost frenzy rhythm, slamming his hips into yours so that the sound of skin hitting skin and jacuzzi water splashing echoed around the room. The blond knew that if people in other high-rises looked hard enough, they could see him riding you doggy-style within an inch of your life. He didn’t care, though. You wanted to act like a good sub that was practically begging with your eyes for a slutty fuck, that’s what you would get. Besides, billionaires were too scandalous themselves to speak about their colleagues’ sex lives.

“Luke,” You nearly sobbed out, overstimulated by the jets rocking your clit and Luke railing you from behind. “Need to cum.”

Your second orgasm was always faster than your first and you could feel the tight ball building up in your lower stomach, begging to be released. The overstimulation from pressure on your clit and penetration from Luke was having tears running down your cheeks. Luke wasn’t letting up though. He wanted you to be so worn out that you could just relax and let him take care of you.

“You can cum, honey,” he hummed, fucking into you one last time before slapping your ass. “Cum all over my dick.”

You immediately did as told, crying out and straining against your bond as you released your climax. “Uh uh…feels so good.” You panted out, walls clenching around his cock.

Luke rubbed your back as you did so, gently guiding you through it. “That’s it. Good girl. Cumming all over my dick.”

You moaned loudly, thoroughly exhausted. “Thank you.”

“Ah ah,” he tutted. “You’re not done yet, baby girl,” Luke slowly untied the shirt that had bonded you. “Turn around.” he huffed coldly.

You did as he asked, looking up at him through your lashes. He had a smirk on his face, body radiating dominance and power as he lifted your heads above your head and tied them once again to the faucet with the shirt, only this time, you were facing him.

“You really thought you were gonna be done without me getting my pleasure off you?” the blond asked.

You blushed under his gaze, unconsciously bucking your hips to meet his. “Use me. I love you, so use me.” You panted.

“Think you need a nice facial to help you relax, hmm sweetie?”

You nodded quickly, knowing what Luke was getting at. “Please.” You said, eyeing his massively-hard boner.

Luke began to pump himself with his right hand, rings still on. It was probably the hottest thing you’d ever seen, with his head thrown back, blond curls wet and plastered to his forehead, and his muscles bulging as he worked himself. You wiggled in the grasp of his white shirt, moaning loudly. You were beginning to get cold in the water without his body on you and you were making it very clear that you wanted him again.

“Gonna cum, baby.” he huffed out.

“Do it. Cum all over me, sir.” You whined in a sultry voice.

Luke didn’t need to be told twice. He immediately came all over your face, coating your eyes and cheeks in white ropes of cum.

“God, baby. So pretty.” he said, watching you blink the cum out of your eyelashes as he rode out his high.

You blushed. “It’s because of you.”

Luke reached for a washcloth in the fine basket beside the large tub and dipped it into the water, slowly wiping your face off with the warm, wet rag. “I love seeing you when you know you belong to me, princess.” he crooned.

You giggled softly, loving the floaty feeling that was coming from being in your subspace. “Thank you.”

The blue-eyed man continued to wash you off with the cloth, removing the stickiness from your face and body. Luke looked over and realized he had left a crystal champagne flute by the tub the night before.

“Do you need your hair washed, princess?” he asked.

You immediately nodded, absolutely loving it when Luke washed your hair. “Please.”

Luke smiled, placing a kiss on your forehead before using the flute as a sort of cup to wet your hair and using his own shampoo (which was vanilla scented, but no one else needed to know) to wash your hair. You melted under his touch, allowing Luke to take full control, directing you to close your eyes and lean your head back so he could wash your hair.

“All done, honey. Sit in the bath while I dry off.”

His words hardly registered in your brain. The wonderful feeling of being totally fucked out and having someone wash your hair had made you so sleepy. Luke quickly stepped out of the jacuzzi, wrapping a plush, white towel around himself and grabbing his phone from the vanity. The view of you naked, fucked out, in his huge jacuzzi and against the background of crystal-clear glass and the lights of Billionaire’s Row in Manhattan was too pretty for him not to snap a photo of.

The blond quickly dried himself off and dressed in a pair of cozy gray sweats with no shirt. No matter how much money he made off of Wall Street, that outfit would always be his pajamas. Luke pulled the plug in the tub, lifting you out of the tub easily and wrapping you in a pink towel with your initials monogrammed that you left at his apartment for hookups like tonight.

“Kneel, honey, so I can dry you off,” he told you. “Good girl.”

You melted under Luke’s touch as he dried you off and lathered you with sweet-smelling lotion. He slipped your red, silken nightie with lace details over your head before picking you up. Being your sugar daddy, he figured it was only fair to spoil you after you had pleasured him so well and that was exactly what he planned on doing. Luke carried you to bed, tucking you in softly. “What are you feeling for dinner, baby?”

You shrugged, feeling so sleepy and out of it. “You pick.”

“Nope, it’s your night, princess.” he chuckled softly.

“You already did, well, what you did today with the money and all. Let me order it.” You said, reaching for your phone.

“No ma’am,” Luke jerked it back. “You’re going to let me spoil you. You have two choices, baby. Seafood or steak.”

“..steak. Thank you.” You blushed.

Even though you had known Luke since the spring, you were still getting used to the whole “sugar daddy” thing. It was still rather unfamiliar to you to let someone else care for you, especially someone as rich as Luke. The blond easily ordered the food from both his and your favorite Michelin Star restaurant, easily curling up in bed with you after.

“Thank you for today. For everything. Are you sure it’s okay?” You asked quietly.

“Princess, I told you. The only thing you owe me is free use of that slutty little body for the next week.” he told you, burying his face into your neck as he spooned you.

You blushed and giggled softly, pushing yourself further into him. “That sounds good to me. But seriously, thank you. Helping me with my education means more to me than you know.”

“I know. That’s why I did it. Besides, smart girls are hot girls.” he smirked.

You happily cuddled into Luke’s side, sighing happily. And if Luke spent the rest of the night being beyond soft and caring for you, no one else had to know.

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simonrileysfavteacup · 2 months

Text

Peace

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x gf!reader

Word count: 1K ish?

Warnings: skinny dipping, simon being fine while he chops would, manly muscles, manly tasks, simon who works all the time

Summary: With Simon, vacations were always rare, so you soaked up every chance you got.

(This is the lake I imagined, the one from The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Snakes and Songbirds, this includes the cabin where Coryo finds the gun)

Vacations with Simon were always hard.

He’d always be working. All the time. He’d come home from a mission just to go on another one the next day. If he wasn’t on a mission, he’d be writing reports or working out in your home gym. Never gets a break.

So when you invited Price and his wife over to dinner, you secretly begged for a leave for Simon to take him on a vacation. Price, being the good dude he is, obviously says yes and sends Simon off on a vacation for three weeks with you.

And here’s a lil headcannon, Simon hates sand. And heat. So no tropical areas. :( No bahamas trip for you.

More so, you settled for a little cabin, deep in the woods, in British Columbia, Canada. And yeah, it sounds lame, but it was perfect for you and Simon.

One bedroom cabin, a fireplace in the living room, and a cozy bed with the best duvet. It featured a little tiny shower that you and Simon shrunk into every morning, mostly just to be close to each other because the shower was half the size of Simon. And one of Simon’s favourite additions, an axe for wood chopping. The cabin faces out to a large lake. Everything was concealed by trees, leaving just you and Simon alone. There were no distractions, just the very-much-needed break.

Simon would wake up every morning to chop wood, his way of working out. His exact statement was that the woods were peaceful and the swinging with the axe was good for his arms. And he did it shirtless, of course, just as he did when he worked out at home.

Toned chest, glistening with sweat in the early morning of the hours, hands gripping the axe he grew to love in the last week, grunting every time he brought the axe down.

You stood at the entrance of the cabin, leaning against the doorframe, coffee mug in hand as you stare at him, practically eye-fucking him. He was panting, a pile of wood sitting next him, fully chopped. You had no purpose for it but the fireplace, which you kept lit every evening as you two ate dinner. Simon’s grunts were reaching every nerve of your body. He looks too damn good for it to be 6 A.M. in the morning.

“Do you want tea?” You speak up, breaking his focus on the wood. Your eyes stay on his abs as he looks up, chuckling softly.

“Would love a cuppa, lovie,” he looks back down at the wood. “Admirin’ the view, hm?”

“You look really good, honey,” you bite your lip to hold back a giggle.

“Bet I do,” he moves back to chopping his wood.

“Don’t we have enough fireplace wood?” you tilt your head, still staring at him.

“Just havin’ fun with it now, lovie,” he shrugs. “Helps me stay in shape, migh’ as well.”

“You don’t need any help staying in shape, honey. You look fine to me,” you giggle.

He chuckles softly, “Ya keep feedin’ me them deserts and I’ll end up bigger than the lake.”

“You love my deserts,” you giggle.

“Damn righ’, I do,” he looks up at you and smirks.

“When you’re done, lumberjack, come inside. I’ll make breakfast, ‘kay?” you smile. He nods and continues his chopping.

You head back inside, pulling a pan out from one of the cabinets, preparing a batch of scrambled eggs. You make Simon a cup of tea as well, setting it aside for him. He comes in moments later, sighing as he stretches. He grabs a plate of the eggs, taking his cup and sitting down on the couch before patting the spot next to him.

You sit down next to him. “You wanna go for a dip in the lake after this?”

“Always,” he smiles.

The two of you eat in silence, taking in the environment around you. The soft rustling of the trees, the chirping of birds, the smell of fresh air, and the sight of the sunlight filtering through the windows. Staying in a cabin in the middle of the forest wasn’t ideal, but it was perfect to you. The quiet solitude of nature and the fresh air provide a peaceful refuge to recharge and rejuvenate. The sounds of nature, from the songs of birds to the gentle whispering of the wind, create a harmonious cacophony that calms the mind and spirit.

It was truly perfect to the two of you.

You left both your dirty dishes in the sink to worry about later, heading outside to join Simon, who’s already stripped down to his boxers. He jumps off the dock and into the lake, making the loud splash of the water echo through the empty forest. You follow him, stripping off your dress, jumping into the lake in just a bra and panties.

The satisfying splash as you break the surface and the sensation of cool water against your skin, followed by the refreshing feeling of weightlessness as you glide through the water. The taste of salt on your lips and the sensation of the sun's warmth upon your face as you emerge from the water, breathless and invigorated. Simon’s arms wrap around you, holding you flush against his chest, smiling. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you whisper back, biting back a giggle as he pulls you underwater with him again.

The two of you spend at least an hour in the water, giggling and splashing each other with water, suppressing loud laughs. When you finally decide to get out, Simon pulls you in for a kiss, heading into the cabin to grab a blanket and a towel. He dries you off before drying himself, motioning for you to lie down on the blanke the laid out like a picnic. He lays down on his side, pulling you in to lie your head on his stomach. He intertwines your hands, kissing your temple.

“Thank you for forcing me to come on this trip,” he smiles.

“Thank you for putting up with my bullshit and always doing whatever I say,” you giggle.

“Always will, lovie,” he kisses your temple again. You look back up at the sky, squeezing his hand.

This.

This was what peace felt like.

#ghost call of duty #ghost cod #ghost imagine #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost simon riley #simon riley #simon riley cod #simon riley fluff #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #cod ghost #cod #the ballad of snakes and songbirds

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joehawke · 10 months

Text

idk why this just popped into my head, but thinking about Steve who’s actually insanely smart, he always got straight A’s in school and the whole “dumb jock” was just a stereotype that Steve got stuck under and just never tried to prove wrong. Who cared whether or not he was actually smart? So he just played along. (Besides, it was an in to flirt with the girls; to pretend like he didn’t know what he was doing.) His parents had him tutored since he was old enough to count on his fingers, and sure it was exhausting, but it was something he was good at. Math, reading, science, it all came easy to him. He liked being able to impress the people around him. When he got involved with the upside down, the one thing that didn’t crumble around him was his studies. He was determined to make his parents proud. When it was time to send out all his college applications, his parents hadn’t returned home in months and by the time he heard back from the schools the upside down was worse than it’s ever been and it just wasn’t a concern anymore. So Steve stuffed the enveloped futures away. He had completely forgot about them. Until now.

It’s been a month since Hawkins cracked open. Max and Eddie both have been discharged from the hospital, on strict rehabilitation protocols. Because Wayne still had to work despite the government hush money, Steve decided it was best for Eddie to stay with him. Besides, the house is quiet and lonely, why not put it to good use? Steve had been downstairs frying eggs on a pan when Eddie came bounding around the corner clutching a stack of opened envelopes. He looked confused.

“What’s wrong Eds? What are those?” Steve asked, and when Eddie started rifling through the envelopes Steve caught the slightest sight of his school symbols. His heart dropped. “Eddie it’s not -“

“Harvard, Princeton, Yale, Columbia -“ Eddie starts naming off as he rifles through each envelope.

“Eddie.”

“You got into them all Steve. There’s like 10 different top notch schools here that you got into. Why has no one heard about this? And why are they stuffed in a drawer?”

“Because I’m not going” Steve says simply, like it was the easiest decision to make.

“What? What the fuck do you mean you’re not going?” Eddie asks appalled. And Steve gets why, he does, but he’s also determined to stand his ground.

“Why does it matter? I’m not going” Steve pouts, crossing his arms.

“Stevie. Did your parents pay for you to get in or something? Did they use the Harrington name you hate so much? There’s gotta be a reason you won’t go besides just being a stubborn asshole” and Steve gets why he‘a asking, and he’s never been hurt by it, but part of Steve flinches at the fact that Eddie couldn’t believe that Steve got in on his own account.

“No. It doesn’t matter, can we just drop it?”

“No. No we can’t. Do you know how badly I would KILL to get into any school, let alone an IVY. This is incredible Steve.” Eddie states, padding closer into the kitchen and Steve has to hold back a laugh at his rabbit slippers.

“I can’t go” Steve says quietly, turning away from Eddie and back to the stove where the eggs are starting to burn.

“Why though? Can you tell me that much?” Eddie asks, matching Steve’s soft tone.

“Because I have to be here. I have to be here incase Vecna isn’t really gone. Incase the kids need me. Incase Robin needs me. I can’t just leave…” Steve says, turning back towards Eddie to look at him before turning back towards the burnt eggs.

“Stevie. They’ll be fine. When are you gonna put yourself first sweetheart? I need a valid reason why you’re staying and I’ll drop it, because these aren’t -“

“Because you’re here!” Steve yells, turning back towards Eddie. Steve watches as Eddie’s lips part ever so slightly as his breath hitches before he continues. “When I got accepted into those schools the people who I did that for weren’t here anymore and fucking Henry Creel apparently was more prominent than ever, and the kids needed someone to take a hit and someone to protect them and Robin was here and she was the first person to care about me and what would that say about me if I left? And eventually those stupid schools were the furthest thing from my mind and then I thought about maybe going, maybe getting away from this hell… you came along and I couldn’t. I couldn’t leave you Eddie. With the regards of sounding cheesy, you carved a spot into my heart along side those bat bites and how was I supposed to just let you go after that?” Steve’s out of breath, and tears are starting to gather at his waterline, but he doesn’t care because Eddie is looking at him like he hung the sun and the moon and the stars and he remembers why he stays. And when Eddie’s lips collide with his own, he thinks he found home.

“We’re not done talking about this” Eddie says, and Steve chuckles as Eddie dives back in.

#idk what this is #I just like smart Steve #I take that back #I just like Steve who has a hidden talent #I just like Steve #stranger things #steve harrington #steddie #steve stranger things #eddie munson #steve x eddie #robin buckley #eddie stranger things #steve harrington has bad parents #steddie drabble #Steddie fic idea #Steddie ficlet

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daisies-daydreams · 1 year

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I got a funny short fic idea here. Task 141 + König + Los Vaqueros x fem!reader reacting to their bodies being switched with each other.

A bit of a scenario, both of them went on a mission and happens to get ambushed by a gas fume in a room, after some lingering time time trying to get out of there (they did eventually), they passed out and the other members had to drag both of their bodies to base. The next day they woke up in the medic room but found something is wrong with their own bodies. Could be either sfw or nsfw

Characters: 141 (Ghost, Soap, Gaz), König, Alejandro Vargas, Reader, Original Character (Dr. Laura Winston) Warnings: Some NSFW Elements (“self-examination”), Descriptions of Genitalia, Mentions of Blood, Swearing Word Count: 2k+

A/N: Thank you for your request! I’m sorry if it’s bad-I tried my best but I've never written for a scenario like this before. 😵‍💫

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

It was a shit show.

Price had sent the 141, Alejandro, König, and you to raid a covert facility in Columbia. Things seemed to be going smoothly...until a pair of doors suddenly slammed on all of you just as you were about to escape. Your eyes widened as billowing clouds of gas began to pour into the room from the vents in the ceiling.

“GET DOWN!” Ghost’s voice boomed. All of you laid flat on the floor, military crawling towards a slit of light poking through a pair of doors on the opposite side of the room. Your eyes began to water as your lungs felt stung with each shallow breath you took. Your head grew dizzy as you watched König rise to his feet. He grunted as he slammed himself against the doors repeatedly, Ghost soon joining him.

Everyone coughed and sputtered as the fumes filled the small space. Your vision became blurry as you reached your hand out, your lungs feeling like shrunken plastic bags. The door thumped a few more times before König finally burst through, the humid night air spilling into the tight space.

“This way!” he coughed, waving his arm. You nodded as you slowly slithered forward, only to collapse once you reached the threshold. The last thing you remembered was being picked up by a pair of heavy arms.

+++

Your eyes snapped open as you gasped. A sheen of sweat coated your body as you launched forward in your bed. You winced as you slam your head into a light shining above you.

“Careful!” you heard an unfamiliar voice shout. You blinked a few times, the image of the room coming to you slowly. You recognized this place as the medical facility near the base you all were deployed from. Doctors and nurses bustled around.

"Forget your own height, Colenel?" the doctor quiped.

"Whuh?" you slurred. That wasn’t your rank...

"How are you feeling, sir?" the man asked. You blinked.

Sir?

You shook your head slightly as you gazed down. Your eyes nearly popped out of your head when you saw a wide, expansive chest. Your arms were utterly HUGE-wait-all of you was huge. You nervously glanced down between your legs-

“H-Hi?” you said. You clasped your hands over your mouth. That wasn’t your voice. It was raspy and guttural. You looked down, eyes widening at the sight of your massive, veiny hands.

“Sir? How are you feeling?” the doctor repeated while tilting his head. You tried to steady your breathing, though your accelerated heart rate showed up on the monitor. The doctor frowned before scribbling something down on a clipboard. You fidgeted where you lay, large hands wringing the medical gown that covered you. Your eyes scanned the room, seeing the rest of your team out cold.

"I..." your words failed to come out of your new mouth. It felt like you had pebbles in your cheeks whenever you tried to talk. Your eyes glanced over the man's shoulder.

Your breath hitched when you saw your own body lying in the bed across from you. Every inch of you crawled as you mindlessly slid out of your bed.

“Where are you going?” the doctor asked. You cleared your throat.

“I-er-restroom?” you stammered awkwardly. The doctor looked you up and down before narrowing his eyes.

“Yes. Let me go…please,” your voice rumbled. The doctor seemed to shrink away as you tore the IV from your arm. You grimace at the sight of blood suddenly spurting from your arm. You hissed as you wrapped your hand around it as you hobbled towards the bathroom.

“Hey! You can’t-“ You shot a dirty glance at the source of the voice. The doctor clamped his mouth shut as his face grew pale. You tried to be quick, but you weren’t used to the long, heavy strides. You walked around like a newborn baby deer, nearly tripping over your large pair of feet.

Relief poured over you when you made it to the restroom, locking the door behind you. You rested your hands on the sink before taking a paper towel and putting pressure on your wound. You were very cautious as you gazed up in the mirror. You gasped and touched your face, your arms-everywhere.

Well…almost everywhere.

Your eyes trailed back down as you swallowed thickly. You bit your lip. Was this wrong? This wasn’t your body, after all. You exhaled through your nose as you slowly slid your hand down your gown. Your eyes bulged when you felt a flaccid cock being squeezed in your palm. The sensation sent a jolt through your body. You winced as you flicked your hand away.

“Fuck, he’s massive,” you thought. You glanced up at the mirror again. It’s the first time you’ve seen König without his mask on. He looked rather ruggedly handsome, if you say so yourself. Ginger hair, baby blue eyes and a scarred face with sharp features gazed back at you. You laughed to yourself as you shook your head.

“Man, this is one of the craziest dreams I’ve had in a while!” you thought. You pinched your arm, only to still be staring at the same visage. Your brows furrowed as you pinched yourself harder.

Nothing.

The sound of a commotion outside stirred your attention away from the mirror. You unlocked the door and walked down the hall to hear doctors and nurses trying to calm someone down.

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you-I’m not me!” your voice shouted. You had to steady yourself for a second, your hand falling against the wall. It was your voice, but the accent was…different. You slowly stepped back into the bay to find your body scowling as you were being surrounded by medical staff.

“Please, we need you to calm down,” one of the doctors said. You scoffed and started walking towards your original body.

“Nein! You don't understand! This isn’t mein,” your body yelled while gripping your hair. Step. “This isn’t mein,” your smaller hands pointed at your eyes. Step. “And these aren’t MEIN!” your body finished by grabbing and shaking your breasts. You scowled as you broke past the gaggle of medical personnel.

“Get your hands off of me! What the hell is wrong with you?!” you boomed, your new voice nearly shaking the walls. You watched your (E/C) eyes widen as you snagged your wrists, König’s massive palms engulfing yours. Your eyes locked with each other for what felt like an eternity.

“Maus?” your voice whispered. You gasped, hands slipping away from your wrists.

“…König?”

“Call security! Now!” a doctor ordered.

“That won’t be necessary,” a woman’s voice called from the doorway. The whole room halted as the source of the voice stepped into the room. A bespeckled lady in a white lab coat strode towards you, her steely gray eyes scanning you up and down. “You all are relieved,” she stated calmly.

“But, Doctor-”

“I don’t want to repeat myself,” she said. The personnel quickly filed out, leaving you and your team in the hands of this mysterious woman. She straightened her turtleneck before clasping her hands together.

“I apologize for my team. They aren’t entirely used to your…dilemma,” the woman vaguely explained. König shifted in the bed uncomfortably while you fiddled with your new fingers. She held out her gloved hand.

“Dr. Laura Winston,” she introduced herself. You took her hand, your palm swallowing her own. Your hand fell back to her side. Just as you opened your mouth, a sudden grunt rang through the room.

“Hijo de puta,” Ghost’s voice grumbled. All of you snapped your heads over as the lieutenant rubbed the back of his head.

Holy shit.

“Al-Alejandro?” you gulped. Ghost blinked a few times, his dark eyes squinting at you. He huffed out a hearty chuckle, something foreign and somewhat terrifying to you.

“Of course, cariño. Who else would it be?” Ghost laughed. His eyes widened as his lips drew into a tight line.

“Ah, so then Lieutenant Riley must be-”

“FUCKIN’ HELL,” Alejandro’s voice groaned as his body lunged forward in his bed. Ghost blinked, his brows knitting slightly as he pointed a shaking finger at Alejandro.

“¡D-D-Diablo!” the man yelled. Alejandro scowled before his face fell. The men pointed at each other, words failing to leave their lips as they stared at each other with bulging eyes.

“Right, that leaves-” A clamor echoed through the examining room as Soap flung himself out of bed. His vision seemed unfocused as he yawned and scratched his face.

“Christ-I need a drink of water,” he spoke. All of you watched silently as he padded down the line of beds. Your face turned beet red when you saw the outline of his ass peek through his hospital gown. He suddenly froze where he stood before slowly turning around. Doctor Winston seemed unfazed as she tried her best to give him a reassuring grin.

“Oh, good. You’re-”

“WHAT THE BLOODY FUCK IS GOING ON?!” he screamed. His voice stirred Gaz from his sleep, prompting him to look around the room. A wide grin stretched across his face.

“Phew, didn't think we were gonna make it,” he sighed. His smile faltered when his gaze crossed his own body staring back at him. Doctor Winston cleared her throat.

“Now, let’s all just-”

The room erupted into a fit of rancor. Shouting was heard left and right-Gaz gripping Soap by his gown, Alejandro and Ghost still pointing their fingers at each other as they yelled in their respective languages. You and König remained still, awkwardly looking at each other before with pale faces before looking back at the scene before you. Doctor Winston cleared her throat.

“IF YOU PLEASE,” she boomed. Silence quickly filled the room. “Thank you,” she nodded. “Now-as for all of you returning to your original bodies-there appeared to be a compound in the gas that flooded the corridor just as you all were escaping the facility,” she began. Gaz’s eyes instantly glazed over. “Thankfully, we were able to obtain the name and chemical structure of the substance. However…” her voice trailed off.

“C’mon, spit it out,” Alejandro huffed in irritation. She sighed.

“However, it will take a while to properly replicate it,” she finished. You felt your chest tighten.

“So we’re stuck like this for God knows how long?!” König sputtered. Dr. Winston nodded slowly.

“I’m sorry-we’re working as fast as we can,” she stated. Ghost stepped forward.

“Why in the world are you trying to replicate the thing that caused…this?” he asked, motioning to everyone. She rubbed the bridge of her nose.

“I believe that if we simulate the incident, it could swap your consciousnesses back into the correct bodies,” Dr. Winston said. All of you blinked.

“How does that work exactly?” Soap asked. She frowned.

“Do you want to sit through a day-long lecture?” the doctor asked. Soap's eyes widened before he stepped back. She adjusted her sleeves before looking around to each of you. “Try to hang tight. We’ll be monitoring you in case there are any psychological or physical abnormalities,” Dr. Winston said. You understood why Gaz (Soap?) was starting to nod off.

“If you’ll excuse me-I need to return and check the status of the gas,” she said before seeing herself out. You all exchanged weary glances.

“Are we sure that gas wasn’t a fuckin’ hallucinogen?” Gaz asked dryly. Ghost chuckled, though it was clearly strained. You swallowed a lump in your throat.

“What about you, love?” Soap asked, his voice a little softer than usual as he gazed at your original body. You craned your neck down and stared at the man. König frowned and pointed towards you. Soap gasped as he tilted his neck up. “Er-(Y/N)?” he asked.

“Yeah?” you replied. His jaw dropped.

"I-you-and...you have a dick now?" Soap asked. You grumbled as Ghost and Gaz snickered. König meanwhile was a flustered mess-his face completely red.

"Yes, So-Gaz, I have a penis now," you irritatedly sighed. Soap looked back and forth between you and König's mismatched bodies.

"So...then that means-"

"That's enough," König barked. Soap instantly shut his mouth. Ghost still chuckled as you sat back on your bed. It creaked as you rested on it. You sighed as you rubbed your hands through your short, ginger hair.

“Bonnie?” Gaz piqued. You gripped your locks between your fingers.

“What are we going to do if it doesn’t work?” you choked. The men around you glanced at each other. You gasped as you felt a small pair of arms wrap themselves around your thick torso. König rested his head against your arm.

“Have faith, Maus. I trust Dr. Winston-she seems to know what she's doing,” he soothed. It felt strange hearing comfort coming from your own voice. Your eyelids fluttered closed as you wrapped an arm around his new body.

“Thank you, Kö,” you breathed. He nodded before patting your back. Your head began to suddenly feel dizzy as you braced yourself against the side of your bed.

“Cariño-” you heard Ghost's voice call. You had no time to prepare as your vision went black once again.

+++

The next time you woke, you were being dragged by a pair of large hands. Your glossy eyes gazed up at the tall, muscular figure dragging you out into the open. Their ungloved hands were warm as they pulled you out of a cloud of gas. The lights blinded you as you coughed and wretched, your lungs burning and eyes watering. While you expected to be in the dark facility you raided, you were instead met with the blurry sight of the medical center’s hallway. Your eyes trailed up to meet with König’s uncovered, beaming face.

“Hallo, Maus”.

____

Thank you for reading! ❤️

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bellaxgiornata · 7 months

Text

Break the Tension [Chapter Two: "The Rehearsal Dinner"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.7k

[Full summary and series chapter list can be found here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+; Enemies to lovers, sexual tension, smut, semi-public sex, light angst

a/n: So this fic won the poll for which one I'll update today! I also feel like this part really sets the tone for this series... Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @mattkinsella @danzer8705 @pazii @paracosmic-murdock @xxdrixx

It had been years since Matt had last been around you. Graduation day at Columbia, to be exact. And yet from the moment you'd stepped into Fairfield Manor and made your way down the hallway towards him with Marci at your side, he'd known one thing remained true.

You still drove him absolutely crazy.

Though not in the way you'd probably always thought. Matt truthfully never meant to be the way he was with you–harsh and teasing–but for some reason every time he got the taste of your pheromones on his tongue, his sexual frustration came out in the sharp way he spoke to you. He figured it was a sort of defense mechanism, one he hadn't initially meant to implement. Especially since it made him feel like a ridiculous school boy pulling his crush's ponytail because he couldn't just use his words.

Matt had picked up on your physical attraction to him from the very first day you both had met in the lecture for Critical Legal Thought. And back then, he'd always been terrified that if he flirted with you–even just a little bit–and you became the least bit aroused around him, he'd lose his mind completely. He didn't think he could handle the smell of your arousal mingled with your natural pheromones, not without pathetically throwing himself at you in Columbia's hallways. So he'd been crass and rude instead, still craving your attention but unable to handle you being further attracted to him. But to his surprise, you always held your own against him, which somehow only made you more attractive to him.

But for some damn reason when you'd shown up tonight, he'd found himself initially torn between wanting to keep you at a distance and wanting to finally have you. Admittedly he'd forgotten just how good you always smelled because no one else ever had quite the same effect on him. It was like your particular pheromones were crafted specifically to drive him wild.

You were Matt’s weakness and he so desperately wanted to be yours.

Earlier tonight, back at the venue for the rehearsal for tomorrow's ceremony, things had gone fairly uneventful after the initial interaction Matt’d had with you. Though he had noticed the way you'd reacted to his fingers barely grazing you below the hem of your dress. He had reveled in the way your skin had prickled with goosebumps, your heart accelerating in your chest as your face heated. His cock had stirred awake in his dress pants almost immediately, the faintest hint of your arousal hitting his nose and then his tongue. Your response had shown him that you still found him attractive, possibly even more than he remembered you being back in college, even if you still seemed incredibly annoyed by his presence.

But Matt didn’t care about that. He’d find a way to change your opinion of him this weekend, at least enough so that his presence didn’t frustrate you. Because knowing you still found him attractive after he’d gotten a taste of your pheromones once more ultimately had him deciding that he was going to pursue you over the course of the wedding weekend– relentlessly . Matt refused to end the weekend without ever having a taste of you. Without ever hearing the soft, breathy moans he always imagined you'd make when he dove between your thighs. Without feeling all the soft, sweet lines of your body beneath his fingers– and his tongue. Without burying himself deep inside of you, fucking you so tenaciously that you could barely hold onto him, clawing at him as your your smart mouth moaned his name instead of cursing it for once.

Fuck. If he kept thinking like this he'd be needing to excuse himself to the bathroom just to take care of himself in one of the stalls.

Shifting under the table, trying to alleviate the sudden uncomfortable strain of his dress pants against himself, he attempted to focus on his dinner. On either side of him sat Foggy’s brother along with a few of Foggy’s cousins that were also members of the bridal party, but directly across the table from him was you. And the scent of your perfume mixing with your pheromones wasn't helping his situation right now.

For most of the rehearsal dinner you'd been focused on your own food shortly after everyone had been seated and served. Though you’d chatted with the bridesmaids around you until Marci and Foggy’s parents had given their toasts before the meal. Oddly enough you didn't seem as conversational as he usually remembered you being tonight. Instead, you'd kept your head ducked over your plate, eating your food and occasionally responding to comments.

Frustrated because you’d stayed true to your earlier words, not making conversation with him anymore than you had to, Matt's foot slid forward underneath the table. He knew this would probably irritate you further with him, but he also didn’t know how else to catch your attention. Anytime he’d tried to start a conversation with you this evening, you’d answered in clipped replies, quickly pulling others around you into the conversation when possible so you wouldn't have to converse solely with him.

He noticed your foot tapping anxiously in your heels as he slid his dress shoe forward until it finally bumped against yours. Across the table you stiffened in your seat, your foot halting its movements instantly. Bringing his fork to his mouth, he slipped the bit of steak between his lips as his head rose, his covered gaze focusing on you as he chewed. He could hear the tension growing in your muscles as your head rose marginally from the table, probably looking at him from across it and wondering if that had been an accident. Seconds later your foot slid a few inches backwards from his and resumed its anxious tapping.

Swallowing down the bite of food, Matt’s resolve didn’t disappear. He cut off another piece of his steak, spearing it with his fork and slowly drawing it up to his mouth. At the same time, he slid his foot forward again, bumping his into yours for a second time. This time he heard the way your hand tightened around your fork, your head rising up fully as you looked at him from across the table. He sent you a smirk before he took another bite from his fork.

“Goddamit, Murdock,” he heard you mutter under your breath.

His smirk only grew wider as he chewed, his focus on you while the rest of the table remained oblivious to the silent interaction. Though in that moment, Matt would’ve given anything to hear you moaning out his first name instead while he felt your cunt tightening around his cock.

Entering your room in an irritated huff, you closed and locked the door behind yourself. For a few minutes all you could do was pace the room in frustration, walking back and forth as you ran your fingers through your hair.

Matt had gotten under your skin and you hadn’t even been here a full day yet. And tonight Marci and Foggy were having a fire out in the courtyard for anyone who wanted to join them for the evening. You’d wanted to go, hoping to catch up with some of the girls you’d met through Marci and become friends with over the years, but the thought of running into Matt and dealing with his strange and annoying flirtatious teasing had you considering staying in tonight.

You didn’t understand what had gotten into him. He must’ve heard from someone after graduation that you’d once drunkenly called him attractive and he was now trying to make you admit it. Either that or he’d found out and figured it would be funny to tease you because of it, to make you think that you could ever draw his attention. Either way, you weren’t thrilled with his unwelcome flirting.

But that weird game of footsie he was trying to rope you into at dinner had been so odd. It was almost as if he knew how much it was making you mad. Which was strange considering he couldn’t see your reaction each time he touched his foot to yours.

With a sigh you told yourself you needed to stop thinking about Matt for the evening. You’d just stay in your room, clean off your face, and maybe get to bed early. That way you’d be rested for tomorrow. Admittedly the couple of glasses of wine from dinner were making you a little tired, anyway.

Heading back towards your bed, you picked up the clutch purse you’d brought with you to the restaurant. Opening it up, you reached inside for your phone, but your fingertips only brushed along your lipstick, your ID, and your debit card. Panic shooting through you, you opened the clutch wider and peered inside. Your phone wasn’t there.

A surge of fear raced through you as you tried to recall when you’d last had it. You know you’d used it at the rehearsal dinner tonight, but you could’ve sworn that you had put it back into your purse before you’d left. With a groan you realized you must have left it somewhere at the restaurant, which meant you were now going to have to borrow someone’s phone to call a ride back there just to pick it up.

“Great,” you grumbled to yourself.

Two brisk knocks at your bedroom door startled you, causing you to jump on the spot as the sound broke through your thoughts. Turning, you made your way over towards the door, wondering who it could be and also hoping they had a phone you could borrow. But when you unlocked and opened the door, you were vexed to see Matt standing there in the hallway. That stupid smirk was on his mouth again, too.

"What the hell do you want, Murdock?" you ground out. "I'm sort of in the middle of something right now."

"Oh?" he asked, his brows rising up high over his glasses. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing that concerns you," you answered.

Peering around him in the hall, you searched for signs of anyone else you could ask to borrow a phone from. Unfortunately the hall was entirely empty except for Matt.

"Well, does the something wrong happen to do with you accidentally leaving your phone at the restaurant?" he asked.

Your attention swiftly returned to him, watching as he reached into the inside pocket of his suit coat and slid your phone from within it. Relief flooded you instantly at the sight of it, a soft sigh escaping you. Though when that smirk grew on his lips at the sound of your relief, your left hand balled into a fist at your side. You didn’t like that he was pleased at having helped you.

"Heard you'd left it on the table from one of the bridesmaids," he explained. "So I offered to bring it back to you, considering we have rooms next to each other."

"How very gallant, Murdock. Thank you," you said in a clipped tone, accepting the phone from his outstretched hand. "But now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get ready for bed."

Before you could close the door more than an inch, Matt’s hand darted forward. Your eyes widened in shock, staring at his large palm as it spread wide over the wooden door, halting its movements.

"You aren't going to the fire tonight?" he asked, head tilting curiously to the side. "With everyone else?"

“If it means interacting with you? No, I’m not,” you replied bitterly. “Can you please let go of my door now? I think we’re done here.”

Matt said your name, the sound of it coming out low and sultry from his lips. Your hand gripped the door tighter in response, your eyes fixed to the red lenses of his glasses. It was as if his voice had suddenly put you in a trance and you couldn’t look away from him, your heart speeding up just a little faster in your chest.

“Why don’t you just admit it?” he questioned softly, taking a slow, calculated step into your room. “Just admit you want me. That you’ve always wanted me.”

Brows jumping up onto your forehead in surprise, your mouth fell partially open. Taken so off guard by his words and his boldness, you didn’t have the chance to stop him from further entering your room. Blinking rapidly a few times in shock, you took a step back from his imposing form passing through your door. Someone must have told him that you’d once drunkenly admitted to finding him attractive and now he was being an asshole about it. That had to have been the reasoning for his behavior so far.

“I’ve always thought you were a conceited asshole, actually,” you shot back.

You hoped he hadn’t caught the tremble in your voice as he continued to close the small distance between you both. For some reason you found him more attractive than usual advancing on you like he was; you couldn’t exactly explain why it was beginning to turn you on. He looked intimidating and strong with those broad shoulders tugging at his suit coat, the buttons of his dress shirt pulling beneath his tie which was askew along his chest. He looked good–better than he ever did at Columbia–but you did not want to be feeling that way. Not for Matthew Murdock. Because he was an asshole .

“And I think you should go,” you ordered, finding your voice again.

“Is that what you really want?” he asked, voice dropping an octave to something deeper as he took another step towards you. “Because I’m not buying it, sweetheart.”

Matt continued to gradually stalk towards you, one hand reaching out behind himself and pushing your door closed. It shut with a soft thump and your heart stuttered in your chest at the sound. Because you were alone with him in your room now, and for some reason that was having an effect on you that you’d rather never admit to him.

“I think,” he continued in that gravelly, deep tone, “that you’ve always wanted to know what it would be like with me.”

“That’s what you think, is it?” you questioned weakly.

“Mmm,” he hummed out, lips curling upwards. “Mhmm.”

Unable to move, your eyes fixed on his smirking lips, Matt closed the remaining distance between the pair of you. His hands very gently landed on your hips and your breath hitched in response, catching in your throat under his touch. In all the years you’d known Matt in college, he’d never once touched you. Not once. Not until that brief graze of his fingertips along your thigh earlier at the rehearsal. But right now it felt like the heat from his fingers were searing into your skin beneath the thin fabric of your dress, burning you from the inside out. It felt far too good, especially when his hands tightened further on your hips, gripping them more firmly as he balled your dress in his fists, pulling the fabric higher up.

Still transfixed by his face, you could see the sharp flare of his nostrils as he repeatedly expelled harsh breaths from his nose, his chest lightly heaving each time. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth as his head tilted to the side, almost like he was studying you in the silence that had fallen. Even behind the dark lenses of his glasses that he wore you could see that he was focused on you.

And that’s when a thought struck you as you took in the sight of him, trying to keep your knees from quivering at his proximity. He didn’t seem like he was remotely teasing you right now. This didn’t feel like the Matthew Murdock you’d known in college who’d taunted you and made jabs at you. He wasn’t here doing any of that.

No, it seemed like he genuinely wanted you.

Something stirred low within you at the thought, a heat beginning to grow inside of you. One you’d never anticipated when it came to this particular man, no matter how attractive you’d found him over the years. Because he’d always been such an asshole to you. But yet…

“Except,” you found yourself saying, surprising even yourself with the way your tongue had been loosened by the glasses of wine you’d had with dinner, “I’m pretty sure it's the other way around. Because looking at you right now, Murdock, I’d say you’re the one who wants to know what it would be like with me.”

You saw the moment his jaw clenched, the muscle jumping agitatedly in his cheek. He bit down harder on his bottom lip, his shoulders tensing at your voice.

A jolt of curiosity sparked inside of you at his reaction, your nerves dissipating. Had that been it all along? Had Matthew Murdock actually wanted you back then? Was that why he was being an asshole to you now, coming into your room uninvited and making these flirtatious advances? Because he still wanted you?

Oh that was an unexpected twist indeed. One you were going to enjoy in more ways than one this weekend. Because maybe you’d thought about fucking Matt in college, back before he’d become quite so mean to you that you couldn’t bear the sight of him, but now you considered taking what you wanted from him. Maybe you’d find out if he really was as great in bed as everyone praised him to be, but that’s all you’d do. Take what you wanted from him. And you weren’t going to make this easy on him in the slightest–he was far too cocky to begin with.

Consider it payback , you thought. You beautiful asshole .

When he hadn’t denied your comment outright, you figured now was as good a time as any to test your theory. You took a step closer to Matt, leaving the pair of you now only inches apart. Immediately you heard a rumbling within his chest at the movement, the noise something almost animalistic that sent a shudder straight up your spine. A pleased smile grew wide across your lips when he fisted the fabric of your dress even tighter in his hands.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” you murmured, tilting your face up towards his. “Tell me, Murdock,” you whispered, bringing your mouth closer to his as you spoke, “how often did you think about fucking me?”

“You’ve got a mouth on you, sweetheart,” Matt shot back.

“And how often have you thought about it on you, hmm?” you countered.

Matt’s bottom lip rolled out from beneath his teeth, his lips twitching as they thinned out along his face. It looked like he was struggling before you, torn between making a snarky comeback or fighting the urge to kiss you. Especially with how you’d leaned up towards him, your mouth only the slightest distance from his. You could feel his warm breath brushing over your lips as you stood there, the rush of adrenaline from having such an unexpected effect on him easily going to your head–and your cunt.

Almost as if in slow motion, Matt dove forward to press his mouth to yours, but you abruptly stepped back from him. He immediately froze in place, head canting to the side as his dark brows knitted together beneath his glasses. His lips pressed firmly together as his expression shifted to one of confusion, and the sight left you grinning in satisfaction once again.

Reaching out, you placed your hand against Matt’s chest, noticing the way his lips parted and a faint whine barely spilled out between them. With a gentle push, you nudged him backwards. Surprised, Matt stumbled back a step, his hands releasing their hold on your dress. The fabric unbunched, sliding back down your legs.

“I’m not going to kiss you, Murdock,” you stated.

“Oh come on, you clearly want to,” he snapped. “I may be blind, but I can’t be the only one seeing the sexual tension here. Just admit you want me. That you want me to bend you over your bed and fuck you senseless here and now.”

Eyes narrowing, you shook your head. “No,” you answered.

“No?” he questioned, surprised.

“No,” you repeated. “I don’t want that, Murdock.”

He huffed out a laugh, that stupid, smug smirk spreading back across his lips. “Now, I’m not going to believe that for a second.”

“Believe what you want, sweetheart ,” you replied, tone intentionally condescending, “but if you want me, you’re going to have to beg for it.”

Matt openly scoffed, shaking his head as he let out a humorless laugh. “Absolutely not. I’m certainly not one to beg, and I sure as hell won’t beg for you ,” he ground out. “You’ll change your mind real soon, sweetie. I can tell you want me. Then you’ll be the one coming to beg me to fuck you and it’ll be that much sweeter .”

“Tell yourself whatever you want,” you told him. “Just do it out of my room that your desperate ass barged into. I need to get ready for that fire.”

He pulled a face at your words, his mouth opening and closing for a moment. The sight almost had you laughing but you bit your tongue, trying to fight it back. He somehow looked even more confused.

“I–I thought you said you weren’t going to that?” he asked.

“I changed my mind,” you answered with a shrug. “Might be fun to watch you squirm now that I know what you’re really after.”

Matt shook his head, turning around and heading back towards your door. You almost offered to help him as he felt around in front of himself for a second, but then he’d grabbed the door handle and twisted it open. He took a step out into the hall, grabbing his cane that he must’ve rested against the wall out in the hallway. Before he left, he turned over his shoulder back towards you.

“You have absolutely no idea what I’m after,” he told you.

You watched as Matt unfolded his cane, making his way next door to his own room. Standing in the middle of your room, you were left staring out of the open door wondering what the hell he’d meant by that.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock smut #matt murdock angst #matt murdock

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literaryavenger · 3 months

Text

Captain America: Civil War - 5

Summary: Team Cap gets taken to the Raft.

Pairing: Avengers x Reader, Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of injuries. Language. Mentions of Y/N. A little angst if you squint. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 1.8K

A/N: Thank god it took me very little to finish this one! Hope you like it!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

The Raft.

That’s where they sent you after they arrested you in Germany. The fucking Raft.

You haven’t even seen Wanda since you were handed your very unstylish new clothes and they made you change.

You got separated from her when they took you to your cell between Scott's and Sam's. You dread what they're going to do to her, but you're powerless to stop them.

You sit on the ground of your cell and don’t move from there, barely registering what happens around you until the sound of clapping snaps you out of your trance.

“The Futurist, gentlemen!” Clint shouts but you still don’t move, just listening to the scene. “The Futurist is here! He sees all! He knows what's best for you, whether you like it or not.”

“Give me a break, Barton.” You hear Tony say and almost show some emotion, but stop yourself. “I had no idea they'd put you here. Come on.”

You hear Clint spit and then say “Yeah, well, you knew they'd put us somewhere, Tony.”

“Yeah, but not some super-max floating ocean pokey. You know, this place is for maniacs. This is a place for…”

“Criminals?” Clint interrupts him. “Criminals, Tony. Think that's the word you're looking for. Right? That didn't used to mean me. Or Sam, or Y/N, or Wanda. But here we are.”

“Because you broke the law.” Tony says.

“Yeah.” Clint says back and starts chanting “La la la la la” while Tony talks, making you grin slightly.

“I didn't make you. You read it, you broke it.” Tony keeps talking. “Alright, you're all grown up, you got a wife and kids. I don't understand, why didn't you think about them before you chose the wrong side.” he says and your face falls again immediately, knowing Tony went too far.

“You gotta watch your back with this guy.” Clint says before slamming his hands on the bars angrily. “There's a chance he's gonna break it!”

“Hank Pym always said, you never can trust a Stark.” You hear Scott say from the cell on your right.

“Who are you?” Tony says, his voice closer to you than before, and you can hear Scott mumbling “Come on, man.”

Tony gets to your cell and sees you sitting on the ground, hugging your knees tight to your chest, your head resting back on the wall while you look straight ahead.

Tony is nothing short of shocked when he sees your face all beat up and bruised, your arm bandaged with blood seeping through it showing just how big and deep the cut is, all courtesy of Ayo.

“I never wanted to see you like this...” Tony says softly but you don’t even react to his words.

He’s standing in front of you but it’s like he’s not even there, like you’re looking right through him to something more interesting behind him.

Tony sighs and shakes his head before moving to Sam’s cell.

“How's Rhodes?” Sam asks right away.

“They're flying him to Columbia Medical tomorrow. So… fingers cross.” Tony answers and you close your eyes, grateful that he’s still alive at least. “What do you need? They feed you yet?”

“You're the good cop now?” Sam asks almost in disbelief.

“I'm just the guy who needs to know where Steve went.” Tony answers calmly.

“Well, you better go get a bad cop, because you're gonna have to go Mark Fuhrman on my ass to get information out of me.”

“Oh, I just knocked the 'A' out of their 'AV'.” Tony says, much too playfully for your taste. “We got about 30 seconds before they realize it's not their equipment.”

You furrow your eyebrows at his next sentence. “Just look. Because that is the fellow who was supposed to interrogate Barnes. Clearly, I made a mistake. Sam, I was wrong.”

Your eyes snap open at his apology and, even though you can’t see either of them, you know Sam’s feeling the same way as you, which is confirmed by his next sentence. “That's a first.”

“Cap is definitely off the reservation but he's about to need all the help he can get. We don't know each other very well. You don't have to-”

“Hey, it's alright.” Sam interrupts him, then you hear him sigh and after a little pause he says “Look, I'll tell you… but you have to go alone and as a friend.”

“Easy.” Tony says and Sam proceeds to tell him all about the Hydra base in Siberia and the other supersoldiers.

When Tony leaves, Sam once again tries to make sure you’re okay even if he hasn’t had luck at getting an answer out of you since you got here.

He knocks twice on the wall between you two then pauses and then knocks three more times fast before talking, a thing you two started doing since you both moved into the Avengers Compound so you would know it was the other knocking right away. “Are you okay?”

You don’t answer him and can hear him sighing before continuing talking.

“Look, I’m sorry you got caught up in this and-”

“I don’t regret the choice I made, Sam.” You interrupt him before he can finish his sentence, speaking up for the first time since you got arrested at the airport. “As much as this sucks, it was the right thing to do. I know it was.”

You don’t say anything else. Sam can tell you mean it and he knows better than to push you.

“They’ll be okay.” He says after a moment of silence and then lets you be.

You know he means Steve, Bucky and Tony but you can’t help but think he’s trying to reassure you that Bucky’s gonna be fine.

And you can only hope that he’s right.

A couple of weeks after Tony’s visit there’s a commotion in the prison.

You haven’t so much as made a sound since that day, aside from your daily knock on the wall between you and Sam so he can make sure you’re okay, knowing you well enough to know you don’t want to talk but still wanting to check in.

But you can’t help but let out a loud gasp when you see Steve just standing in front of your cells.

You look around when the cell doors open and you hesitantly get up from the floor and walk towards Steve. He hugs Sam, then you, then Clint and then pats Scott on the back, but doesn’t linger long before he’s guiding you towards another level where Wanda is.

You get to her just as the door to her cell opens and you rush inside with Clint to take off her collar while he takes off her straightjacket. You hug her tightly and wrap your arm around her with Clint to help her move you since she looks a little worse for wear.

You manage to move through the prison without problems. You have to hand it to Steve, he’s a hell of a criminal.

When you get to the landing pad you see the Quinjet ready for take off and you all rush inside just to see Bucky at the commands and you smile brightly at the sight.

You have no time to comment, though, as Sam shouts “What are you waiting for?! Go!”

Bucky rolls his eyes but calmly says “We have one more coming.”

You frown. One more? You turn to Steve confusedly but before you can ask anything you can see blond hair darting into the Quinjet and then Natasha’s there.

Bucky instantly takes off and you all take seats and buckle up.

There’s a moment of silence while everyone processes what just happened, but you break it while looking at Natasha that’s sitting directly in front of you.

“Are we gonna talk about the hair?” You ask arching your eyebrow with a smirk.

She groans in annoyance and you can hear the others chuckling while she says “We are not.”

After a few hours you all get to a safehouse and Steve ushers you in before showing you around.

It’s not bad: a secluded cabin with three bedrooms, not too big but Steve assured you you wouldn’t be staying there long anyway. Which makes sense, you're on the run now so this is just temporary.

After the tour Bucky approaches you in the living room and only then you notice he’s missing his metal arm.

“You flew the jet with only one arm? That’s impressive…” You can’t help yourself as you reach to touch his left shoulder, your eyes fixated on it. But stop on your tracks when you feel his right hand carefully cupping your cheek.

Your eyes snap up to his and you can see him thoroughly inspecting the wounds in your face that are still healing a little. He grimaces when he looks down at your bandaged arm and whispers “I’m sorry…”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle, Sergeant.” You smile softly at him and put your hand over his still on your cheek, trying to reassure him that you’re fine.

“I bet you can, doll.” He chuckles.

You’re too busy staring at each other to notice everyone’s attention is on you until Steve clears his throat with an apologetic look on his face.

“We need to go, Buck.” He says and you look confusedly between the two men.

“I’m going back into cryo.” Bucky clarifies for you.

“Oh.” Is all you can say and your eyes widen for a second before you force yourself to put on a more neutral face.

“It’s okay.” He smiles at you, but you feel like he’s trying to convince himself as much as you. “It’s nothing I can’t handle, doll.”

You try your best to smile and not look too bummed out. “I bet you can, Sergeant.”

You hesitate for a moment before surprising him, the others and even yourself by giving him a hug. He hesitates too before delicately hugging you back and, after a moment, you pull away.

He smiles at you with a faint blush and you smile back, watching him walk to the door.

Steve passes you on his way to the door and kisses your forehead, whispering “He’ll be okay” before saying goodbye to the rest of the team, assuring you that he’ll be back soon. Then he also goes through the door and soon both the supersoldiers are gone.

You turn around with a sigh and see Sam, Natasha and Clint standing there, grinning at you, Wanda and Scott looking more compassionate than teasing.

You narrow your eyes at the first three and say sternly “Not. A. Word.” punctuating every word by pointing threateningly at each of them.

They raise their hands in mock surrender while snickering but thankfully don’t say anything and everyone just scatters around the safehouse.

You see the Quinjet depart from the window and try your best to look at the bright side: This isn’t forever, you’ll see him again.

Right?

Requested taglist: @sapphirebarnes @aki-ham @mary-jinx @abbyyourlocalmilf @selcouthial @esposadomd @americaarse

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pedroshotwifey · 5 months

Text

Pickled Peña Challenge 2023

Good Impression

Pairing: Husband!Javier P. x GN!reader

Word count: 1.2k

Tags/Warnings: Nothing really, fluff, lil bit of angst (silly angst tho), reader and Javi have a dog, Chucho being hella cool, kissing, cussing, vivid descriptions of fried pickles, wifey being actually stupid

Summary: You really wanted to bring something for Chucho's new year's party...

A/N: Hey, y'all! This is my contribution to @goodwithcheese's Pickled Peña Resolutions Writing Challenge! It's kind of stupid but it's what I've got lmao. I can't wait to read everyone else's Peña stories (please feel free to tag me in them)! Unfamiliar with this challenge? Read more about it here! @pickled-pena

*****

“Shit!”

You curse as you watch a pickle slice splat wetly onto the kitchen floor, jumping back to avoid it landing on your bare foot. Max, your golden lab (who was oh-so-creatively named by your husband) is quick to clean it up not a second after it falls.

“Goddammit, Max,” you scold as you watch him scarf it down without shame. “That’s your fifth pickle today.”

Hell, it might be the sixth. You usually aren’t a super messy cook, but it’s a different story when you’re in a time crunch. You need to leave the house in about an hour, and the fried pickles you promised to bring for Chucho’s new year’s party are only half done.

Javier walks in then, chuckling slightly at the interaction he just witnessed. You give him a pointed look before getting back to the task at hand, smothering pickle slices in the flour mixture you had made up.

“Oh, come on now, sweetheart,” Javi says as he walks up behind you to glide his arms around your waist. “Don’t be like that, we have plenty of time.”

You roll your eyes and half-heartedly shove him off of you as you dip the first batch into the oil on the stove.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Javi, I still have to fry every single one of these slices, and then let them dry and cool before we can leave. Plus, I still need to change my clothes, and we have to pick up a gift for Chucho on our way there.”

Javi presses a kiss to the top of your head, humming in response to your explanation.

“I think we’ll be okay. Chucho isn’t going to mind if we’re a little late.”

“I know,” you whine. “But I still hate not being–”

“I promise you, baby. As long as I show up with ‘that pretty partner of mine’, there’s not going to be an issue.” He pinches your hip lightly as he quotes his father’s words from a few days earlier.

You can’t help the faint smile that crawls across your face at that reminder. You had been so worried about Javier’s family not liking you, but it turns out that they adore you just as much as he does, just from what he’s said about you. It’s nice to know you’ll be welcomed so warmly even though they had never met you previously.

The two of you had met in columbia by chance, hooked up, and things spiraled from there. As much as he tried, Javi just couldn’t tear himself away from you. A year later, the two of you were married, and a year after that, you both moved back to Javi’s hometown in Texas, where you’re now, finally, about to meet everyone you had heard so much about.

You had told Javi that it’s your new year’s resolution to make a good impression, but you doubt that’s going to be very hard. You’ve already made a good impression in their book just by marrying the man.

“How about you go ahead and get changed, and I’ll do what I can here?” Javi suggests.

You scoop out your pickles and lay them on a rack to dry before turning around and planting a kiss on Javi’s cheek.

“Thank you, baby. That would help a lot.”

“No problema, mi vida.”

He grabs your wrist to pull you in to press his lips against yours. You smile against him before pulling back and planting a final, light kiss on his lips.

“Okay, I’ll be right back,” you tell him as you back out of the doorway.

***

It doesn’t take too long for you to get dressed. Javi is just finishing the pickles as you walk back into the kitchen.

“Should be all set,” he says as he wipes his hands down with a paper towel. You lean on your toes to kiss him again.

The two of you have everything cleaned and packed up within another few minutes. You glance at the clock, which tells you that you should be right on time by the time you’re walking out the door. You grab the container of pickles to take with you to the hall table by the front door.

Javi mumbles something from behind you and then walks into your room, patting his pockets as he goes. You almost laugh under your breath at his forgetfulness until you realize you left your keys in the bathroom.

You place the container down and walk down the hall, not noticing how precariously balanced the tub is left. You snatch your keys up at the same time you hear a crash. You gasp at the sound of what can only be a plastic lid breaking off to spill your hard work all over the floor.

Your fears are confirmed as you quickly make your way back to where you left them, only to find Javi hovering over the mess. When looks up and immediately catches your stunned expression, his entire body freezing as he does so.

“Baby,” he starts slowly. I swear it wasn’t–”

“Javier. F. Peña,” you seethe, each name spat out as its own individual sentence. “You did not just knock that down,” you almost dare him to contradict you. There’s absolutely no way for you to make another batch right now. You don’t have the time nor the ingredients.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Javi retorts defensively, holding up his hands as he takes a step toward you. “What makes you so sure that it was me? I thought it was you until I got out here!”

“Me?” you gawk at him, offended. “Unlike some other people I know, I’m not that fucking clumsy!”

“Woah, you stand there and accuse me, but where were you at the time?”

Just then, Max slinks into the hall, drawing both of your attention to his guilty movements. His tail wags hesitantly behind him, his head ducked. The fact that he’s not all over those damn pickles tells you all that you need to know. You sigh in frustration, pinching the bridge of your nose.

You look back up at Javi, and you can’t miss the glint of amusement in his eye. A smile peaks out as you lean down to Max’s level. You don’t scold him, instead gently grabbing his collar to lead him to your room before shutting the door so you can clean the mess without interruption.

Javi’s already on it, sweeping everything into a dustpan. You lean against the wall as he finishes up.

“Guess we’re going to have to stop by that burger joint in town,” you say, sighing again. Javi watches you, sending you a sympathetic smile. He knows how much you wanted to bring something homemade, how much it meant to have something to offer, no matter how small.

“I’m sorry sweetheart. Maybe next time we can invite Chucho over for dinner next week, make up a big meal for him.”

You smile back at him. He always knows what to say. He walks into the kitchen to dispose of the contents in the dustpan, and you to your room to release Max before rejoining each other in the hall.

“Ready to go, my little chef?”

You roll your eyes at him with feigned annoyance as you take his hand.

“Let’s go, Peña.”

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e-dubbc11 · 1 year

Note

ericca my sweet! i thought i missed the deadline but saw you were keeping it open a little longer so SHOOTING MY SHOT

can I pls request taking care of our sweet Matthew Murdock when he’s sick and tucking that fine ass into bed (bonus points if he’s too tired to undress himself…!)

and congrats again my love, so happy our paths have crossed on this silly little site!! 💕

My lovely Kay, thank you and thank you for sending in this prompt. I have it in my head that when Matt’s sick, he doesn’t like to admit it so that’s what I went for here, I hope you like it!

Scarlet Fever

Oof…this gif. Nuff said. Anyway…moving on…

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F! Reader

Warnings: I think there are a couple swear words in here, Matt being stubborn, and fluff

Word Count: 1.6k-ish

Karen sounded a little panicked on the phone. “We need your help, y/n.” She said in a very low whisper.

“Sure Karen, what’s goin’ on? Why are you whispering?” You asked.

You heard cars passing in the background, people talking, and sirens off in the distance. She must be outside.

“It’s Matt, I’m whispering AND I’m outside because I’m hoping he won’t hear me but he’s burning up with a fever, a little delirious, his hands are clammy, he’s just a mess but he won’t go home. Foggy and I can handle the case that we’re working on but he needs rest.” She said.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you closed your eyes and let out a long exhale. Your thoughts flashed back to your days at Columbia with Matt “I’m fine” Murdock. He never wanted to admit he was sick, ever.

There were times when you had to tie him to the bed literally so he would stay put and to say Matt was unpredictable when he was sick, was an understatement.

“Ok, well shove him in a cab and I’ll wait for him at his apartment and see if I can get him to rest.” You told her.

Karen’s reaction was relief when you told her you would babysit the problem man child. “You’re a lifesaver, y/n! Thank you!” And she hung up.

The walk to Matt’s apartment was a short one but you wanted to make sure you were there to meet him when the cab arrived but on the way you stopped to get supplies.

Tissues, ginger ale, cough drops, Nyquil…you weren’t sure what he was experiencing so you just bought the entire pharmacy.

The cab pulled up to the curb, Matt got out and you paid the driver. “Thank you!” You waved to the driver and watched him drive away.

Matt’s tie was loose around his neck and the top buttons of his dress shirt were undone.

“They called you? I told them I’m fine.” Matt said, his voice a little raspier than usual.

You touched the back of your hand to Matt’s forehead and cheeks. “You’re not fine, Matty. Your skin is on fire.”

“You didn’t need to come take care of me, y/n.” He said.

Grabbing his elbow, you held onto him while you walked towards the building and up the stairs. “Yeah well, who else is gonna do it, huh?”

He scoffed at you. “Pfft, Foggy should be doing this. He’s the one that found me asleep on my desk, and then pushed me into the cab, I thought he was getting in behind me but he just shut the door and the cab took off before I could stop him.”

It was hard not to laugh at the image of Foggy shoving Matt into a cab and slamming the door. You tried to keep from laughing but it didn’t work.

“This is funny to you?” He asked.

You covered your mouth with your hand, but the laughter escaped the sides of your mouth.

“I’m sorry, Matty but yes it is funny. What’s not funny is the fact that you won’t admit that you’re sick.” You said.

He tilted his head and stopped to regain his balance, now you really knew he didn’t feel well. You knew about his extracurricular activities, he trusted you with his secret. So you knew Matt didn’t just lose his balance. “I’m not sick, I’m just…off.” He said trying to sound convincing.

“Nice try, Murdock. Let’s go.” You ordered.

You had a spare key to Matt’s apartment, after unlocking the door you set the bag of supplies on the floor while you took his suit jacket off. The heat radiating off of his body was intense so you wanted to find out what his actual temperature was.

“I brought the thermometer, when you sit down, I’ll take your temperature.” You said.

He smiled wide, let you see that adorable dimple and started to chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” You asked him.

He loosened his tie a little more and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “It’s not a rectal thermometer is it?” He laughed.

“Keep it up and it will be, Mr. Funny Guy.” You snapped back at him.

Matt left his shoes by the door then planted himself on the couch, and removed his tie completely. You noticed he had sweat stains on his dress shirt and his hands were like ice.

“Ok Matthew, let’s see what the winning numbers are.” You said as you held the thermometer close to his forehead. It beeped and the numbers flashing said 103, you needed to get his temperature down.

“What does it say, y/n?” He asked.

You shook your head and pressed your lips together. “It says 103, we need to cool your body down, now.”

“Hey do you remember that time at school when you handcuffed me to my bed because I kept getting up, saying I needed to go to class? Where did you get those handcuffs anyway, they felt like the real thing. I always meant to ask.” He said.

You didn’t mean to but you felt yourself starting to blush. The flash of warmth to your cheeks and the hair standing up on the back of your neck, surely he could tell but he didn’t let on if he did.

“Don’t worry about where I got the handcuffs from, that’s need to know information, counselor.” You quipped back. “Let’s try a cool shower to try and bring your temperature down.”

You led him into the bathroom, turned the water on and made sure he had a clean towel for when he got out.

“Ok get in, I’ll go find you some comfortable clothes.” You told him.

He gently tugged on your shirt and pulled you towards him. “Wait, I think I may need a little help…undressing.” His face was so close to yours and he rubbed some of your hair in between his fingers.

You swallowed hard. “Very funny, Matthew, you’re delirious. I don’t have time for this, I’m trying to help you get better.” You said very flustered.

Since college, you’ve always had a little crush on Matt but you pushed it down and away because you felt you were better off as friends anyway. But you didn’t expect your feelings to surface now, you had suppressed them for so long.

“You don’t want me to get hurt, do you sweetheart?” He whispered in your ear.

You took a step back away from him. “Take your glasses off, Matty.”

As he removed his glasses, you reached for the buttons on his shirt and slowly started to unbutton them from top to bottom. Naturally, you just closed your eyes as you continued, your heart was racing, his breath warm against your eyelids.

You gently pushed his shirt off of his shoulders and it floated to the floor as you reached for his belt. Your hands were shaking slightly at the sight of Matt shirtless, his broad shoulders, perfect chest and abs. It was hard not to stare but you managed to unclasp the belt and the button on his pants.

“You’re staring, y/n.” He said.

You couldn’t think of anything else to say except “No, YOU’RE staring.”

“Real mature y/n, good comeback to say to the blind guy.” He said with a warm smile.

“I think you can do the rest.” You said practically running out of the bathroom and into the kitchen.

Your heart was in your throat and now you were sweating as you waited for the water to boil for some tea. You heard the shower stop and waited for Matt to get out. He emerged from the bedroom wearing sweats and a t-shirt.

“Sit down, Matty. I’ll take your temperature again.” You told him.

Matt sat down on the couch, he had put his glasses back on and his hair was damp. You sat down on the coffee table in front of him and took his temperature one more time. 100.8.

“What does it say, doctor?” He smirked.

“100.8. It’s better but not quite there yet. I want you to get in bed, some rest will help. If you’re good and take a nice long nap, I’ll tell you where I got the handcuffs from.” You let out a little laugh.

“Deal.” Matt said.

You helped Matt into bed, removed his glasses, and left some ginger ale and a bottle of water on the nightstand along with a couple of Tylenol. “I’ll stay until after your nap.” You said.

Matt stopped you from walking away. “Y/n?”

“Yes, Matty?” You said.

His voice was slightly raspy. “Can we talk about some other stuff when I wake up?”

You knew what he meant by that question. Sitting down on the bed, you leaned forward to gently kiss him on the forehead, his skin was still warm with a slight fever.

“Sure, Matt. I don’t have anywhere else to be.” You told him.

Matt sat all the way up. “Thank you for this.”

“You’re welcome.” You whispered.

The amber color of his eyes was beautiful, you could easily disappear in them and didn’t stop him when he placed his thumb and forefinger on your chin, closed the gap between your faces and gingerly placed a soft kiss on your lips.

As you slowly opened your eyes, you said to him “You realize you probably just gave me whatever bug you have, right?” You said while laughing.

“Well then it will be my turn to take care of you, sweetheart.” He said.

“Go to sleep, Murdock.” You said as you rolled your eyes.

After sliding his door shut, you sat down on the couch with your book although it was hard to concentrate on anything except that kiss. That kiss you had wanted for so long and it was almost as if you could still feel his soft lips on yours. You definitely had a lot to talk about, but for now you would just sit, smile, and…wait.

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#matt murdock #daredevil #charlie cox #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fic #ericca’s 200 follower celebration

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javierpinme · 1 year

Text

Lush

Pairing: Neighbor!Frankie Morales x f!reader

Word count: 4.5k

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY, minors this is not the fic for you)

Warnings: accidentally sending a friend request to your hot neighbor but oh no it’s from your sex toy app, taking some liberties with the sex toy OKAY, you don’t have to tell me how bluetooth works I’m ignoring it for the purpose of the fic, squirting, voyeurism, unprotected sex (this is fictional wrap it up irl), pussy drunk Morales, oral (f receiving), fingering, infidelity (but not our babies they could never)

Summary: You buy a sex toy and accidentally send a request to your hot neighbor to join in.

A/N: Don’t blame me. Blame @daddydindjarin. Just kidding. Don’t blame her. Give her kisses because I was inspired for the first time in a while. Also kisses to @lowlights for being my beta on this because I was so scared of this being shite. And if it is—you shut your whore mouth. Respectfully. Kidding, we’re all whores here. Also, this is loosely based on the Lush 3 toy by Lovense!

Masterlist:

The pads of your fingers slide roughly on the cardboard of your thankfully discreet package. What should have brought a shiver down your spine and warmth in your core brings you conflicting feelings instead.

It was meant to spice up your relationship when your partner got the call of their dream promotion. You supported the move completely and tried to make it work to the best of your ability.However, your partner had other plans and jumped on the first opportunity to cheat on you.

So here you are, single and with a sex toy that serves as a reminder of your failed relationship.

You sigh with a resignation that you’re going to be alone forever while opening your apartment door, until you’re brought back to the present with a little girl’s giggle.

Not just any giggle—his daughter’s giggle.

With his juxtaposition of hard and soft edges and even softer—though a little sad sometimes- chocolate brown eyes.

You hear your name echo down the hall and the pitter patter of shoes hitting the ancient carpet. You hold the package a little closer to your chest and smile at the little girl running towards you. Your knees pop when you bend down to her level.

“Well, hello to you honey bee.”

She beams with her matching dimple to her father’s at the nickname you gave her a while ago. In the way honeybees bring life to the flowers, she brings the same to everyone around her.

“We’re baking cookies.” She explains with a jump in her step.

“Oh yeah?” You smile and your heart jumps when you look up to Frankie walking from further down the hall towards you.

“Yeah, but we have to do it before your mom gets here so we have to get started.”

He opens his door and she takes no time bursting through, elated to eat sugary treats.

You’re frozen at your doorway taking in the sheen of sweat that pools from his neck down into his t-shirt. No doubt from running circles around his daughter at the park.

He lingers now that you’re both alone and waves at you with a lopsided smile, but you’re too focused on the fact that he is sucking on a hard candy, your eyes too honed in on the way his tongue pokes into his cheeks when he switches sides.

Before you get the chance to ask him out or humiliatingly go onto your knees and show him just how good you can suc-

His apartment door is already closing, with him on the other side.

You’re in trouble.

One batch of chocolate chip cookies later and way too many wet wipes on his daughter’s—well everywhere, Frankie considers turning in for the night. He plops on his couch until the game setup he bought for the guy’s night tomorrow stares at him.

They take turns hosting, sticking together after coming back from Columbia and providing support when needed. It was better than dabbling into anything illegal, especially with his drug history.

He rubs his thighs and gets up with a groan. Every bone in his body cracks, reminding him he’s not as young anymore. Sounding and looking more like his father everyday.

The mirror staring back at him with all his greys that are more pronounced since coming back. He wonders if you’d like that.

One hour later, in part because of his refusal to look at directions, he has the PlayStation and surround sound system set up. He grabs the wireless headphones and his phone to check if they’re paired when he sees a notification pop up on his phone.

LazyDaisy32 has sent you a request to connect.

He has no idea what that is so he Googles it. A quick scan of the search results makes the blood rush from his head and straight to his cock.

You stare at the package that is currently sitting on your kitchen counter and finally decide to open it.

At least there’s a solo setting and you can fantasize about your cute neighbor.

You play around with the app and adjust any levels to your preference, arousal pooling in your underwear in anticipation of later. You tap on the long distance tab, but don’t focus too long until you toss it on the couch. Dinner first, then exploring your new toy.

Completely oblivious to a certain username that you sent a request to join when tossing it.

Waiting for Frankie to accept your request.

He knows exactly what this is, pulling it from the deepest part of his memory when his ex-wife and he were still together. They thought something like this would help rekindle their romance, but no amount of toys could fix their broken marriage.

He stares wide-eyed at the request, unable to bring himself to do anything.

It couldn’t be?

Right?

He knows it isn’t 86 year old Mrs. Munchez next door because he just helped her son move her stuff into his house.

Which leaves only one person. His cock twitches to life with the barrage of images that flash through his mind. You spread out on your bed, his photographic memory aiding him when he helped set up that very bed when you first moved in.

The daisy sheets.

The toy circling around your clit in slow motions to allow the slick to flow from your entrance, your bottom lip pinched between your teeth to keep yourself quiet.

He wouldn’t let you.

His cock is already fully hard by the time he starts imagining all your moans and pleas to touch you already.

He throws his phone on his bed and resigns himself to a cold shower that doesn’t work, ultimately taking himself in hand and stroking himself to relieve the tension that’s built up.

He breathes heavily, finally giving into his fantasies about his cute neighbor, and the back of his head hits the tile when ropes of come disappear into the bottom of the tub.

He quickly cleans himself up and gets ready for bed, leaving the request in the inbox when he falls asleep.

He does a really good job of ignoring the pending alerts the first few times, but time and time again it shows up and it’s killing him at this point.

It’s made even harder when he sees you. Whether he’s helping you carry your groceries to your place or waving at him from your balcony. He over analyzes every interaction now because of that damn app, studying every downturn of your lips or the wrinkle between your brows when you come home from work at the same time.

Did you really mean to send it to him? Or did you realize your mistake and choose not to face the elephant in the room? The idea that you're ignoring it to save face makes him feel worse than you acknowledging it ever could.

Asking you out would be thrown out the window at this point and dodging every future interaction makes his stomach twist in knots just thinking about it.

He almost loses resolve one morning when you close your eyes to let the sun’s rays warm your face, his cock springing to life again of the vision of you on your back, eyes closed and enjoying how he’s making you feel.

He’d make you feel good, he thinks.

Never one to take pleasure without giving. At least one thing his ex-wife couldn’t complain about. He wants to make you feel as good as you deserve. He aches with the need.

It’s then that his fantasies break him down and he accepts the request. He throws his phone on his counter thinking that somehow he could forget what he just did.

On the contrary, it made it so much worse.

He couldn’t resist the temptation any longer one night when he saw the reminder pop up again.

He sits on the couch, thighs spread wide staring at the blue light, and watching the toy work its magic. He could see every wave of pleasure that went through you, what level you were on at that exact moment even through the thin walls.

Just one touch and he could make you feel so good.

You huff at your inability to get off and toss your phone on the bed. You were overthinking it, but you desperately wanted to feel that release.

You want to forget about the day and only focus on your pleasure, but what usually makes you come isn’t working. And you’re about to call it a night until there’s a steady pulse thrumming through you, slowly working its way up in intensity.

You grasp the sheets in your hands and your thighs start to open wide of their own accord, chasing the pleasure that is starting to shoot through you with every needy thrust. Your arousal begins to pool onto the sheets below you, your cunt clenching around the toy and you finally feel the rumble of an orgasm starting to build.

You should stop this. You don’t know who this anonymous person is, but your thighs start to burn at the possibility of it being Frankie.

You’re hurtling towards the edge of what might be the best orgasm you’ve had in years when the toy goes down in intensity, a steady thrumming replacing it.

“Fuck-wait.” You whine to no one.

You slam your fists on your sheets, your tits bouncing from the heaving of your chest as your clit throbs from the denial of your orgasm.

The toy vibrates against your bud but low enough that you’re kept on the precipice without any reprieve.

Frankie, whoever it is, is a tease.

You’re brought to the edge only for it to dip down a gentle hum again and again, your sheets surely ruined from how wet you are, skin glistening with sweat and god—you should have laid down a towel.

It’s embarrassing how quick he—they bring you back to that point where your toes start to curl, your cunt fluttering with every vibration and pressure on your g-spot to bring you to bliss.

“Please, please please.” You keen.

Your orgasm slams into you like a freight train, the force of it almost making the toy slip out of you as white hot pleasure forms behind your eyes, crying through the waves of pleasure coursing through your veins until your voice gives out.

It starts to hinge right on overstimulation and you breathe a sigh of relief when it slows down from a purr to nothing.

You’re reminded of your lack of towel when you move to get off the bed, the cool moisture making you cringe. You’re definitely going to have to wash your sheets.

Your thighs shake as you gather up your sheets to put in the wash, daydreaming about that neighbor of yours as you pour the laundry detergent into the machine.

The sun billows through his curtains and he turns onto his other side to fall back asleep, too tired from staying up late to hopefully have accomplished in making you come and then taking himself in hand when he denied himself as much as he could. Guilt pouring in tenfold at overstepping boundaries afterwards.

He finally relents and leaves the warmth of his bed in lieu of making a hot cup of coffee to combat the cool air.

The spring air delicately kisses his face when he pulls his slide door open with his cup of joe when he sees you already out on yours, your attention being directed towards him when you hear the pull of the door. He freezes for a second, but your smile instantly relaxes him.

“Good morning!” You grin.

There’s a glow to you this morning, any tension you were carrying the day before is gone and his chest puffs in pride at the realization that he may have had a role in that.

Fuck, he’s hooked.

“Mornin’. You look like you slept well.” He tests the waters.

You beam at him like you’re both in on some secret and he gets flustered that you might have discovered that it was him, but relief washes over him when you don’t look angry.

“Slept like a baby.”

"Oh yeah?" He darkly chuckles, his arousal pulling him to the railing of his balcony to be closer and preens when you mirror his steps.

"Yeah, woke up pleasantly sore actually." You breathily answer.

"Workout or something like that?"

"Something like that." He gapes at the wink thrown at him before you walk inside your apartment, but there's no way he's imagining the extra sway in your hips.

Guilt gets the best of him and he ignores it for a little bit much to your dismay, not that he would know.

You couldn’t stop thinking about it. How good you felt and how good you slept after cleaning yourself in the shower. It was the best sleep you’ve had in a long time actually, but the only thing that was missing was Frankie.

You shake your head to clear that train of thought, but he was the one you thought of late at night. Not even for a sexual reason—okay yes that too. But just being surrounded by him, his soft belly shaping against your body like it was made for you.

You didn’t mind your secret toy admirer and after a process of elimination you’re almost sure it’s Frankie. The longest control range is 30 feet and you live in a quiet elderly building. You're confident they don't have the app or even know how to use bluetooth.

Just not sure enough to put it out in the universe and be wrong.

A week later you both walk towards your respective apartments and you look exhausted. A bottle of wine in hand and some Thai takeout miraculously balanced in your other hand, he decides right there and then if that toy comes up he’s going to make you boneless.

One glass of wine later—or two. You’re feeling more relaxed, the tension from work rinsing off with your shower.

You throw a t-shirt on to get ready for bed and glance at your nightstand drawer.

It couldn’t hurt right?

Your cunt clenches around nothing.

You shiver and pull the toy out, excitement and arousal shooting up your spine in anticipation.

You hop on your bed and throw your t-shirt off, rolling your nipples between your index fingers and thumbs until they peak at attention. You shimmy a pillow under your hips and insert the toy, working yourself up slowly.

It doesn’t take long for the toy to change up its rhythm and your soft moan billows through the otherwise silent room.

Relief floods through you at not having to think after such a long day of making decisions and you get to just enjoy the moment. Your body sinks into your plush sheets, a purr crawling its way up your throat and the pads of your fingers slide up your bare thighs, tracing the steps of how Frankie would touch you.

You’re deep into your fantasy of him and reality starts to blur, moans spilling out where you would normally try to stay quiet. You gasp when the toy hits just right and your inner walls flutter around it.

“Oh go-Frankie.”

He tosses his phone on his coffee table like a kid caught red-handed in the cookie jar and throws his hands up until he realizes you’re not in his living room. He hears his name again through the thin walls and he jumps to action, almost forgetting to grab his phone from the table in the scuffle.

Either something is really wrong or you found out it was him and he’s really in for it now, but when you call his name again outside of your apartment door—he has to be sure.

You forgot to lock your front door, but with how your day went it wasn’t on your list of priorities. Before you get the chance to take in that your door opened it slams just as quickly.

The layout of both your apartments are the same so he gets a front and center view of you all spread out and your core glistening in the golden hour light that he just freezes. You look surprised but the prettiest moan comes out making him realize he hadn’t turned off the toy from the app during the rush to your apartment.

He reaches into his back pocket to pull up the app, turning it off right when you were on the crescendo of a bone-tingling orgasm only for it to be ripped from you.

You whine and grasp the sheets between your fingers while your clit throbs from its robbed attention. You squeeze your thighs on instinct and Frankie interprets that as his cue to leave in his embarrassment, but you say his name with such reverence that he stays planted in front of your bedroom waiting with bated breath what your next move is.

He’s surprised when you smile with all softness behind it and he can’t help but match it, no matter how flustered he feels.

“So it was you.”

Heat floods from his cheeks to the tips of his ears and he’s about to go on his knees to apologize until he notices the tinge of playfulness in your voice and the way you arch your brow at him.

You don’t let him hang onto his humiliation for too long, giving him some reprieve by curling your finger and motioning him to your room when he embarrassingly nods.

“Well that’s a relief. I’m supposed to help Rodger down the hall with his computer and 70 is just a little too old for me.” You chuckle.

“Rodger wishes.” He huffs and you snort at his retort as every pusle thrumming through your cunt collides with every step Frankie takes on the hardwood.

“No, really. Have you seen you?” He exasperates.

“Why don’t you tell me?” You grab his hand to pull him on top of you and he sits on the bed watching you with awe.

“How ‘bout I show you? If you’ll let me? Then we can talk about all of this because I’ve been trying to find the guts to ask you out since you moved in.” He strokes your thighs in mindless circles and a shiver goes through you.

It was on the tip of your tongue that he basically skipped all of that when he helped get you off, but you nod.

“I love the enthusiasm, but I’m gonna need to hear you say it.” He teases with a kiss on your calf, looking at you with all the mirth behind it.

“Yes plea-fuck me Frankie.” Your cunt clamps around the toy as he walks towards you, his once beautiful brown eyes now blown out with lust as he hovers at the foot of your bed.

He shushes your pleas and towers over you, taking his time to admire your features now that he has permission to. He doesn’t crash his lips against yours like you expected he would much to your chagrin.

His nose bumps yours and you chase his lips when he pulls away from you with a smirk. He darkly chuckles as he peppers your face with kisses everywhere except where you crave him.

“I’ve been imagining every pretty noise you’d make for me so forgive me for wanting to take my time with you.” He explains with a lower octave than you’ve heard come out of those plush lips.

You lock your leg around his lower waist and pull him down to you, all restraint thrown out the window and kiss him. Holding onto him like the ground below you was going to implode if you let go. He groans when your bare core rubs against his bulge, your wetness already seeping through the fabric.

You involuntarily gasp when he bumps the head of his cock against your clit and he takes the opportunity to lick into your mouth, deepening the kiss until you’re dizzy and leaking down your inner thighs.

He pulls away from your swollen lips and smirks before he trails open mouthed kisses down your neck to your collarbone, licking the salt of your sweat on the way to your core.

The hairs of his moustache tickle against your breast when he laps at your nipple, suckling around the peak until it stands at attention, releasing it with a pop when it is thoroughly wet from his saliva. He gives equal attention to your other breast with his mouth, groaning when his calloused thumb and forefinger roll your spit-saturated nipple between his fingers.

Once you’re all perked and glistening for him, he makes his way down to where you’re aching for him, peppering kisses and licking the beads of sweat that form.

He bruisingly grips your thighs and tugs you lower on the bed so he can kneel comfortably on the carpet. You breathily whimper when he nips your inner thigh, lapping the sting away with his tongue. He presses his face against your mound and inhales deeply like a worshiper to an altar.

He opens your legs wider and the heel of your feet dig into his back to encourage him to make a move and he could never deny you.

He kitten licks your clit until more arousal pools from your entrance, swirling his tongue around your bud when your thighs twitch around his face.

“N-n-not gonna last long, Frankie.” You moan.

His eyes meet yours from above your mound and you don’t have to see his mouth to know he has a shit-eating grin when he wraps his mouth around your throbbing clit and sucks hard.

Your inner walls clamp around nothing until he fills it with one, then two fingers, curling them in a come hither motion until you embarrassingly fall apart quickly underneath him and his lips part as your face pinches in pleasure because of him.

Your chest heaves as your orgasm fades to a rhythmic pulsing and when Frankie kisses up to your eye-level you’re about to apologize because oh my god, it’s all over his chin-

“That was so much better than what I imagined, baby. Good girl. Fuck, you soaked me.”

He slams a bruising kiss against your lips and you open wide for him to push your come into your mouth so you can taste yourself. You toy with the hem of his shirt and he takes the hint, pulling it off and throwing it somewhere in your room.

He hastily unbuckles his belt and you swat at his hands to take off his pants and boxers, the whisper of his zipper unfastening and your collective heavy pants filling the room.

Holy shit.

How are you going to fit that inside you?

His cocks spring out of his boxers, the head beading with pre-come and twitching the longer you gape at it.

“If you’re not ready-”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” You grab his shoulders and pull him on top of you, locking your legs around his waist. He takes his damn time thrusting his cock between your folds until it’s soaked in your arousal and come.

“Ready?” He presses a chaste kiss on your lips when you nod and bites your shoulder as he breaches your entrance inch by inch.

You both groan at how tight you feel around him and he thrusts in short bursts until he’s buried to the hilt to not hurt you. Gone is the rush of the moment, soft touches and praises of how long the two of you have waited for this filling it.

“Frankie?” You eventually tap your foot on his ass when he doesn’t move, a muffled grunt releases from on your neck as he breathes you in.

“Move, baby.”

He lifts his head up to look into your eyes and devastatingly smirks. “Yes, ma’am.”

His first thrust devastates you, a sob ripping out of your throat when he continues to hone in on that spot that makes your walls clamp around him.

You whimper and bury your fingers into his unruly curls, the tinge of pain from you gripping on his strands prompting him to thrust at a bruising pace. He kisses your lips and sucks your bottom lip between his teeth before he brings his hand between your bodies to circle around your clit.

“Please come, ‘m not gonna last.”

The slow circles on your bud has your cunt seizing around him with stars forming behind your eyes as your thighs tremble with the intensity of his hips. It edges on overstimulation, but you want him to feel as good as he made you feel.

“Inside, Frankie. Makin’ me feel so good baby.” You coo and slide the pads of your fingers up and down his back.

He whimpers into your ear as you pinch his earlobe between your teeth, releasing a breathy moan as his balls pull up and ropes of his cum spill inside of you, leaking onto the mattress below you.

You gently thrust up into him to prolong his climax until he begins to soften inside of you, the two of you whispering praises to each other.

You wince from the emptiness as he pulls out of you, a kiss being delivered to your forehead in apology, and you admire his barely there ass as he walks to your bathroom. You hear water running as you stretch your muscles, feeling sated and pleasantly sore.

Frankie emerges from the bathroom with a damp washcloth that he uses to clean up the mess, kissing your ankle when you hiss from the overstimulation as he gently rubs through your folds.

He tosses the washcloth on your nightstand and laughter fills the silent room when he plops next to you, pulling you in closer and tangling your legs together. He strokes the back of his fingers on your cheekbone and nudges his nose against yours, pressing light kisses on your cheeks.

“I’d really like to do this again sometime. Maybe some dinner first.”

“What makes you think I’m going to let you leave this bed now that I know how good I have it?” You smirk and coax him back in by wrapping your fingers around the back of his neck.

Like hell you are going to leave this spot.

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shiorimakibawrites · 8 months

Text

Carnal Knowledge (Part 14 of Alley Cat)

Image credits: kissthemgoodbye.net / Amber Kipp / Nathan Dumlao

Image Description: Matt Murdock as red-suit Daredevil against nighttime city background in one block, Shadowy couple leaning against each other surrounded by candles overlooking a city in second block, under second block is text saying Alley Cat by Shiori_Makiba, the third block is a orange medium haired tabby laying on a table and looking up at the camera playfully. END ID.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 6,856

Summary: Matt and You take your date over to his apartment. And have sex.

Warning(s): INAPPRORIATE FOR MINORS! Smut involving dirty talk, heavy petting, hand job (f receiving, m receiving), oral sex (f receiving, touch of m receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected p in v sex

Also posted on A03.

Part of Alley Cat. Masterlist can be found here.

Carnal Knowledge

You walked, carrying the bag containing tiramisu in one hand, the hand of Matt Murdock in the other. He had held your hand earlier, on the way to the restaurant, but it still making you feel a giddy. Well, it was one of the things making you giddy.

The general reason was how much you had enjoyed yourself tonight. You had been given pretty flowers. Not a random pre-made bouquet picked at the last minute without much consideration but flowers that he had clearly put some thought into, taking the time to look up ones that your cat would be safe around. You appreciated that mindfulness, that sweetness, even more than the flowers themselves.

The food you had eaten had been excellent. So excellent that your brain-to-mouth filter got disengaged when you were asked about it. Which seemed to happen a lot around Matt. Through it was nice of Matt to call it adorable instead what it was. Which was embarrassing and awkward.

You had wondered if morbid curiosity about what might come out of your mouth next was one of the reasons he asked you out. But you had been distracted from such thoughts by his asking how you had met Jo. That story wasn’t funny like his meeting with Foggy but he had asked. So you told him how you had transferred into same high school within a couple of weeks of each other but you, being painfully shy and possessing almost no self-confidence at that age, was deemed an easier target by the local batch of mean girls. You hadn’t describe the bullying in any detail, just mentioned that it happened, but that was enough for Matt’s mouth to press into a thin line. You also didn’t miss the hints of that distinctive gravely rasp in his voice when he asked you what happened next.

Not wanting to dwell on those particular memories, you had done so. Telling him how Jo had come across this bullying one day and erupted in fury. Which in Jo’s case meant yelling at them at the top of her voice with an impressive amount of cussing.

Well, it had been impressive to freshmen you. Present you had heard far more impressive and creative displays of swearing. That heated exchange between a taxi driver and the owner of a hot dog cart, which had involved at least three languages, came to mind. Jo had gotten detention for it but swore that she regretted nothing. You then discovered a shared interest in mystery novels and the rest, as they say, was history.

The description of Jo turning the air blue in your defense got him smiling again. It was just a little one however and not wanting him to start brooding, you asked if he had any other stories about his time in college he would like to share. The answer was tons but the one he settled on was what he and Foggy call the Wardrobe Incident.

Matt and Foggy had gotten drunk, taking full advantage of finally being able to legally purchase alcohol. Stupid drunk considering they had an exam in the morning. So drunk that Matt’s phone ended up . . . somewhere. He never did figure out what had happened to it. It had disappeared somewhere in the bars within walking distance of Columbia University. And Foggy forgot to set the alarm on his phone. So they overslept. Woke up incredibly hungover in nothing but their boxers. Then while swearing never to drink (a vow that neither of them kept), realized that they had less than five minutes to get to their exam before the professor locked them out. And the classroom they needed to be at was on the other side of the campus.

They both put on the first clothes and shoes they laid hands on and then ran. They made it to their exam. Barely. Then he was taking an exam, trying to remember everything and ignoring how crummy he felt to get it done. It wasn’t until afterward, when Marci saw them and started laughing that they realized that something had gone awry. Turned out that Matt was wearing a pair of Foggy’s jeans and his shirt was inside out while Foggy had put his own shirt backwards with a pair of Matt’s sweatpants – the pair which had split along the back seam . . . Neither of them had matching socks – Matt had one of his usual plain ones but also one with yellow ducks on it that Foggy had given him as a joke for Christmas. Foggy had one with bears (which were also a gag gift) and a bright pink one that had been accidentally left by a girlfriend. It had taken Marci a week to stop giggling every time she saw them.

Which you could understand. Just picturing it had you giggling. Telling the story and hearing your amusement erased all of the tension in Matt. The big smile had returned and to keep it there, you had told him about the Macaroni Incident. Also known as how you learned that Jo couldn’t cook. During a sleepover, you both had gotten hungry and decided to make some macaroni and cheese. The kind in the blue box. You had gotten the water started when your brother’s dog – who was aptly named Trouble – needed to go out. Since the fence needed repairs, Trouble had to be on the leash. You asked Jo if she could make the food while you took care of the dog and she agreed.

In the time it took for Trouble to do his business (including attempting to inspect the squirrels), Jo had ruined that box of macaroni and cheese. The pasta managed to be both burnt and under-cooked. Well, the half that hadn’t been burnt into the bottom of the pot and couldn’t be removed. You weren’t sure what she had done to the cheese sauce but it had the consistency of glue. Tasted like glue too.

Matt had teasingly asked you how you knew what glue tasted like. You gave him the honest answer. You had tried it when you were about four or five. Along with crayons and pet food. Just to see what they tasted like. Didn’t all kids do that at some point?

He had laughed but admitted that, yes, he had done the same thing as a kid. Once when he was little due to curiosity. The second time had been after the accident due to training. And yes, the glue and the crayons had tasted as vile as you imagine they would to someone like him. The pet food had been delightful by comparison.

It would have been impossible not to giggle at the disgusted look on his face when he said that and you didn’t try. Which seemed to be his goal as he smiled at your giggles. Needless to say you were in a very happy mood when you left the restaurant.

“We’re here,” he said, coming to a stop. His apartment building looked a lot like yours. An older building, its six-stories feeling small when compared to all the skyscrapers, but sturdy despite its obvious wear. Like it had survived everything this city had thrown at it for decades and wasn’t about to give up now. Rather like the man that dwell within it.

You didn’t end up getting the elevator to yourself this time. There had been a young gay couple waiting by the doors. Both of them smiled and exchanged friendly greetings with Matt but otherwise seemed to content to limit their interaction to that. You decided to take other people riding in the elevator as an excuse to tuck yourself closely to Matt’s side. Which he didn’t seemed to mind at all.

The couple departed at the third floor. The knowing look and thumbs up that the taller of the pair send your way as they left brought renewed warmth to your face. And the return of your earlier nerves.

You knew why. First was that you didn’t normally have sex with someone after only one date. Nothing wrong with someone doing that. It just wasn’t something that you had done before. Through you could make the argument that this was more like your second date, your impromptu lunch date being your first. Pretty sure that you couldn’t count all those times you hung out with Daredevil . . . well, maybe those times you got to talk longer than few minutes. Like that time when he was resting his sprained ankle. Who cares that you hadn’t known his real name yet . . .

The second reason was that . . . well, it had been a while. A long while. The only thing that been inside you for nearly a year was your own fingers. You were pretty sure that Matt’s cock was bigger than your fingers. If you were remembering that bugle in those sweatpants accurately, a lot bigger. Thinking about that memory, especially standing right next to him, only made the warmth in your cheeks get worse. And did nothing to quench the renewed heat between your legs.

Matt squeezed your hand as his nostrils flared. You once again wondered just what and how much he could smell. Or taste, as you watched the tip of his tongue run across his lips.

“Can you – ?” you started to ask before trailing off, too embarrassed to ask.

“Can I what?” he asked.

“Nothing. It’s silly,” you said quickly, taking a great interest in your shoes. Your face felt hot enough to fry an egg.

“Anything you want to ask me isn’t silly,” he said. He released your hand in order to reach up and cup your face in his hand. Gently he raised your head so you were looking at him. So you could see the earnest expression on his face. “No need to be embarrassed, sweetheart. You can ask me anything.”

You appreciated the sentiment but there was every reason to embarrassed about this question. But he looked so sincere . . .

“J-just a random thought about your senses. A-about w-what you can . . . smell,” you said, the fingers of your free hand bunching the fabric of your skirt, wishing you had worn a necklace so you’d have something to fidget with. Your hands tended to get restless when you were nervous.

“What I can smell?” he repeated thoughtfully. “In general? Or you specifically?”

“M-me specifically,” you said.

“Well, you don’t smell bad if that what’s you are worrying about,” he said. “Quite the opposite.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” he said, his thumb stroking your cheek. His gentle smile shifted to that devilish smirk as he added, “You smell good enough to eat.”

There was an implication there. One he had made several times now. One that made you wanted to squirm, do something to relieve this growing desire.

But at the moment, the elevator dinged as you reached the sixth floor and the doors slide open. With visible reluctance, Matt let his hand fall away from your face. Wrapping his free arm around your shoulders, he ushered you out of the elevator and into his apartment.

His apartment was obviously a converted loft with its wooden trusses, exposed pipes, sliding metal doors, and mixture of plaster and brick walls. One that, if the chipping paint on the stairs or the scuffed wooden floors was anything to go by, had either received minimal maintenance or been kept purposefully a little rough to give it ‘character.’ Like at his office, the furniture was a mismatched collection of secondhand pieces in good condition and everything was almost obsessively neat.

Which was logical. No matter how good Matt’s remaining senses were, he was still blind. A certain amount of neatness and organization was a necessity. Beyond that, it probably saved him a lot of unnecessary hassle. And having good organizational habits was a benefit for someone working in law.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Matt said, taking the bag with the tiramisu from your hand. While you had been looking around, he had taken off his shoes and his sunglasses. You couldn’t say exactly what but there was something about him standing there in his socks, his lovely eyes no longer hidden by dark lens that just . . . did things to you.

And not just in the lust department, as pretty as he looked like this, but in the feelings department. You couldn’t identify those feelings. They were too new, too ephemeral to be identified but they were strong. Whatever it was that you had for Matt, you had it bad.

You shook your head and tried to take his advice. Sat down on that little bench by the door and started taking off your shoes but got distracted. By the sight of Matt’s ass as he walked toward the kitchen. You had almost forgotten how good his ass looked in those pants. Studying the fabric expertly display those perky cheeks and the thickness of his thighs, you wondered if the pants from his The Man In Black outfit were just as criminally well-fitted . . . they certainly looked like it in those pictures in the paper . . .

“See something you like, sweetheart?”

You jumped, startled by his voice. You looked up and sure enough, he was wearing that devilish smirk again. He knew. Somehow he knew that you were sitting there with only one shoe off, staring at his ass. Somehow he knew that you were having impure thoughts about his ass . . . the very real possibility that he could smell that you kept getting wet . . . you felt your face flush.

Again. At this rate, that blood should just stay in your cheeks.

“Uhm . . . n-no,” you managed to sputter out. And wanted to cringe. Matt didn’t need to hear your heartbeat to know that was a big fat fib. Your nephew would know and he was only four. Before you could get distracted by something else, like wondering if kissing him would get that smirk off his face or just make it worse, you took off your other shoe. You picked up its mate and placed them under the bench next to his shoes. You tried to ignore how the sight of your shoes sitting neatly next to his made your heart flutter with that weird ephemeral feeling again.

You rose to your feet and then froze. Matt was walking toward you. No, walking wasn’t the right word. Not with that predatory grace or that smirk. This also did things to you but this time it was definitely lust. You fought the urge to squirm as arousal flared up again.

He stopped just in front of you and put his hands on your hips. Despite the air of aggression he approached you with, the reaching to touch you exhibited the same slow, telegraphed movement as before. Giving you the chance to pull away from him if you wanted to. But you didn’t want to. You wanted to see how this would go.

“That was a lie. Wanna try again, sweetheart?”

It wasn’t his Devil voice but it was akin to it. Deeper than his normal speaking voice, hints of that gravely rasp, a huskiness that made it sound like he was purring out his words. It send tingles down your spine. Tingles that turned into a little shudder when those large, warm hands started lightly massaging your hips. You blamed that shudder for why you ended up blurting out, “Y-your ass looks really good in those pants.”

“Ah, thank you, sweetheart,” he said, his smirk gaining an edge of smugness. Which should have made it annoying. And it did. But it was also very hot. Stupid sexy Murdock.

A chuckle alerted you to the fact that you might have said that last part out loud. He asked, “Do you check out my ass often?”

You were absolutely not going to answer that question. “I’m invoking my Fifth Amendment right to remain silent.”

Another chuckle. “You are?”

“Yes,” you said, aiming for your usual prim tone for this kind of banter but it came breathier than you intended. “That is my right, counselor.”

“So it is,” he said with a note of fondness in his voice. Then his expression turned to serious before he asked, “What do you want to do?”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“I mean do you want do here tonight? Do you want to eat our dessert and go home –?”

“You don’t want me?” you interrupted, feeling the first stirring of real panic. Had you misinterpreted things? You had been known to misread social cues but you thought that his had been very clear and he said that he liked you . . .

“Oh I want you,” he said, his hands tightening in your hips. “Trust me, sweetheart, I would love nothing more than take off these clothes and finally learn if the rest of your skin is as soft as your hands and face. I want to know if you taste as good as you smell. I want to know what sounds you’ll make when I touch your body, when I taste you, when I’m inside you. There are so many things I want to do with you.”

His eyes had landed somewhere around your mouth but the lack of eye contact didn’t diminish the intensity within them, the visible hunger.

“But only if you want to do those things with me. We don’t have to do anything tonight or any other night. If you would rather take things slow, I can do that.”

Your anxious side, the part that was always nervous about something, was tempted by the offer. But the rest of you wasn’t. You also wanted to know things. Like what he looked like without those clothes. Or what his body would feel like under your hands. Or your mouth. What he would sound like, the expressions he would make, when experiencing pleasure. You wanted all those things and more. That desire was stronger than your anxiety.

You took a deep breath to steady your nerves, then raised your hands. Only to hesitate, your hands hovering over his chest. Your consent wasn’t the only one that mattered . . .

“You can touch me,” he said.

With that permission, you laid your hands on his chest. Even through his shirt, you could feel those powerful muscles. You slide your hands slowly upward, tracing the skin of his neck with your fingertips. The contrast between softness of his skin and roughness of his beard scruff was just as enjoyable as you remembered it. He made a pleased rumble that you felt more than you heard, making a note of the spots that triggered the louder rumbles. Up until one hand was buried in the hair at the nape of his neck and the other was cupping his cheek. Then you leaned forward and kissed him.

It started off light, a mere brush of the lips across against each other. But it didn’t stay that way for long as you pressed your mouth more firmly against his and gave a gentle swipe of your tongue across those soft lips. He answered the silent question by opening his mouth, his tongue eagerly greeting yours. It was with reluctance that you broke off the kiss. A mutual reluctance if the way he tried to catch your lips was any indication but when you pushed your hand against his chest, he stopped.

You took the time it took to catch your breath to gather your courage, that boldness that convinced you to put on the sexy underwear earlier. Then said, “I don’t want to go slow.”

His hands tightened their grip on your hips before he said, “Anytime you want me to stop, just say the word and I will. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” he said, then he was kissing you. One of his hands abandoned your hip in favor of cradling your head and deepening the kiss while the other slide down to start kneading your ass. You moaned into his mouth. This time, only the need for air forced your lips apart. You panted as Matt’s mouth latched onto that sensitive spot on your neck. Kissing, nipping, and sucking at that bit of flesh until you were whimpering. It feel so good that you didn’t care that you were probably getting hickey. Apparently satisfied with his handiwork there, he started trailing kisses down your neck as his hand slide down your back to join its counterpart in kneading your ass.

Your hands did some movement of their own, sliding down his chest until you reached the hem of his shirt. Eager to touch his bare skin but not so eager for him to stop kissing your neck just yet, you did the next best thing. Snake your hands under his shirt. It was his turn to moan as your hands began to explore every inch of skin you could reach.

Matt’s hands left your ass to grab the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head before letting it fall somewhere on the floor. You had no idea where. Your eyes were focused on his bare torso, greedily taking in the broad pecs, well-defined abdominal muscles, and several others that you didn’t know the names of. Neither your eyes nor your eager fingers missed the scars scattered across his chest and stomach but they did nothing to diminish the beauty in front of you. You wanted to explore every ridge and scar with your tongue.

You were so memorized that you barely noticed his hands returning to your hips. Or when one hand slide over to undo the closure button of your skirt or how that made said skirt slip down from your waist to your hips. You noticed when that hand took advantage of that looser state to slide his hand under the waistband and palmed your ass more directly. You definitely noticed when the fingers of that hand began tracing your panties’ pattern of lace.

“Silk lace,” he murmured. His voice had fallen to a lower register, something much closer to his Devil voice, the husky quality had deepened. It made you shudder. “Something you already had?”

“No,” you said and felt yourself flush.

“No?” Matt repeated thoughtfully, squeezing your ass in his hands. “So this pretty underwear was bought for me?”

“Yes,” You managed to pant out. “Th-thought you’d enjoy . . the texture.”

He let out a pleased hum. “What color?”

“Daredevil Red,” you said. And because you had no filter left, added, “Because they are the Devil’s panties.”

A wicked grin spread across his face.

“The Devil’s panties, huh?” he said. “I like the sound of that.”

His right hand left your ass to slide around your hip and cup your covered mound. You gasped as his fingers grazed the length of your slit through your damp underwear, your nails involuntarily digging into his side.

“So wet,” he murmured. “All this for me?”

“Y-yes,” you answered.

You let out a cry as his fingers found your clit and began rubbing it. You closed your eyes. Even through your panties, it felt so good. Your cunt clenched around nothing as you got wetter. Which earned you a deep, pleased rumble. Your breath got shorter and shorter as you neared the edge. Then, most annoyingly, he stopped and pulled his hand out of your skirt.

“Ma-att,” you whined. Why had he stopped? You were so close . . . Had he heard something? You swore to God, if he had to run off now . . .

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Matt said, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off the floor. “I’ll get you off, I promise, but my bed is more comfortable place for this.”

Your hands had instinctively flew up to grip his shoulders when your feet left the floor but it wasn’t necessary. He was carrying you effortlessly toward what had better be his bedroom.

It was a room and there was definitely a bed in it. Honestly there were probably other things but at the moment, your brain refused to register them. All it cared about was the bed and the man lowering you into it. Your empty cunt was in full agreement. Under that influence, you reached down and started undoing the buttons of your blouse.

Your eagerness made Matt chuckle as he hooked his fingers into your skirt’s waistband. “Lift your hips for me, sweetheart,” he said and when you complied, yanked your skirt down until it slide off of your legs. Your panties swiftly followed the skirt to a pile on the floor. It seemed to you that you weren’t the only one here who was eager.

His hands wrapped around your thighs and pulled you to the edge of the bed. An action that surprised you but what surprised you even more was when Matt sank to his knees in front of you, his hands sliding down to rest on your knees. You raised yourself up on your elbows. Was he going to do what you thought he was going to?

Apparently so. He used his grip on your knees to spread your legs wide and slide between them. You looked at Matt between your legs, the hungry look on his face, with mild disbelief. As his hands slide up your thighs to your hips, you had to ask.

“You’re going to –” You started and stopped, your face once again feeling like it was on fire. You couldn’t say it. It seemed amazing that, lying here in a man’s bed while dressed only in your bra and your half-opened blouse, you could still find something too embarrassing.

“Eat you out?” He asked. Hearing your answering hum, he said, “Yes. Unless you don’t want me to.”

You wanted him to but . . .

“You don’t mind?” you asked.

“No?” he said, sounding and looking confused. Like that was a silly question. “Been looking forward to it, actually.”

“You have?” you said, unable to believe your ears. Jo had hinted there were rumors about Matt and oral sex when teasing you. Matt had hinted at it when flirting with you. But past experience (as limited as it was) had taught you that, while some men would do it without outright complaining, none of them actually liked it . . .

“Hmm, yes,” he said, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. It was gentle, almost chaste, but the heat in his eyes made it feel like a brand. “Since the night we met, I’ve been dreaming of burying my face between your thighs.”

He started kissing up your thigh. The gentle press of his petal soft lips, followed by the rough scrap of his beard scruff across such sensitive skin already had you squirming. His hands on your hips easily kept you right where he wanted you. Which honestly only made you more aroused.

“Don’t be afraid to get loud, sweetheart,” he said, nipping at your thigh. It wasn’t a hard bite, just the barest hint of teeth but it was enough to make you cry out.

“Yes, just like that,” he praised, then resumed trailing up your right thigh. Alternating between soft kisses, gentle nips, delicate sucking on the skin until you couldn’t have contained your moans if you wanted to. You whimpered when he blew air against your cunt and then whined when he move away in order to give your left leg the same treatment. Including the teasing puff of air against your aching cunt.

“Ma-att,” you whined as you tried to arch up, desperate for his mouth. But he held you down. “Please. Please, pl–”

A long glide of his warm, wet tongue across the entire length of your slit cut off your begging with a strangled groan. Another long lick, then smaller licks as he explored every inch of your folds. This exploration was languid, punctuated by those pleased rumbles that you felt just as much as you heard. He looked blissful, like he would happily spend all day doing this.

Finally, finally, his tongue started giving your swollen clit some attention. He started with those same teasing licks, then give a firmer press of his tongue that made you moan loudly. Every sound you made, especially if it was loud, was rewarded with firm laps. Trying to keep quiet was punished by teasing licks. Then he wrapped his lips around your clit and gently sucked. The sound that erupted from you was closer to a scream than a cry, loud enough that some distant part of your mind that wasn’t being drowned in pleasure hoped that the walls diving his apartment from his immediate neighbors were thick. Especially when the vibration of his resulting moan pulled an equally loud cry and nearly sent you over the edge.

You fell back, unable to hold yourself up under such an onslaught of pleasure. Your hands scrambled for something to hold onto. That something ended up being his hair but he didn’t seemed to mind the tight grip. Or that every suck on your clit had you tightening that grip into a pull. Considering he groaned each time and only sucked harder when you tugged on his hair.

You felt so good already that the finger circling your entrance barely registered. So when that finger actually slipped inside you, you gave another loud cry. You had been moving closer and closer to that edge this entire time but the gentle thrust in and out of that single finger brought you right up to it. When he added a second finger, it threatened to send you over. Your head was thrown back against the sheets, your legs started to tremble.

Close, you were so close.

“Please,” you begged, somehow managing to find your voice. “Please, please, please . . .”

He lifted his mouth to purr, “Let it go. Come for me, sweetheart.”

Then his mouth was back on your clit and sucked hard at the moment as those two fingers thrust in hard, curling to brush against something inside you. And that was it. With another almost scream of a cry, you came hard. Faintly you heard him moan as your inner walls clenched tightly around his fingers. Which were still moving, drawing out your orgasm until you were panting mess. Only when your inner walls stopped fluttering did those wonderful fingers slip out of you. To be replaced by his mouth, which lowered down to lap noisily at your entrance and enthusiastically attempted to lick up every last drop of your slick until you were whining from oversensitivity and attempting to pull his head away from your cunt by his hair.

If you had any doubts about how much he had enjoyed himself, one look at his face as he rose back to his feet, licking his lips, dispelled them. That was the happiest cat-who-ate-the-canary expression you had seen in your entire life. Your attention was soon drawn away from his face as he took his pants off, your eyes immediately focusing on the large bulge in his black boxers.

Especially when he started peeling off those boxers. As his hard cock emerged, your eyes widened and you let out a gasp. You had fantasized about Matt’s cock, had hoped that the reality matched the promising size hinted at by the bugle in his sweatpants, but this . . . your imagination had underestimated him.

Wow . . .

“Sweetheart?”

His voice brought your mind back to the present and made you force your eyes away from his cock. Apparently realizing that he had your attention now, he asked, “Still good?”

“Yes,” you said. Then blurted out, “You’re so big.”

And immediately felt blood rushing to your cheeks. Really, that blood should just stay there since you can’t seem to stop blushing for longer than five minutes. Besides it wasn’t like it was being used to power your brain. Not with lines straight out of cheesy porn coming out of your mouth.

His expression shifted from mild concern to smug teasing. “Am I?”

“You know the answer to that question,” you muttered. Which only made him laugh.

Then in a more serious tone, he observed, “You’re nervous.”

The flush in your face intensified. “It’s been a while since I . . . and you aren’t small.”

He smiled as he held out his hands, wriggling his fingers in a beckoning gesture, “I’ll be gentle. Come ‘ere.”

While part of you was content to remain right where you were in a puddle of post-orgasm bliss, the rest of you was feeling the building anticipation of having that cock inside you. So you raised your arms enough to place your hands in his and let him help you sit up, curious to see what he would to next.

The answer was take off your blouse. He didn’t bother fiddling with the remaining buttons, just took advantage of its loosen state to pull it over your head. Soon it had disappeared to wherever the rest of the clothing had vanished to. His hands started to skim over your breasts when he paused, tracing the lace with those long, clever fingers.

“Matching bra?” he asked. At your nod, he flashed a wicked grin. “Sweetheart, you’re going to spoil me if you keep being this sexy.”

You laughed. “I’m not sexy.”

“Objection. Witness is assuming facts not in evidence.”

You swatted at him. “Overruled. No one besides you and Jo has ever called me sexy. Everyone else says that I’m cute.”

“The two aren’t mutually exclusive, sweetheart,” he said, sliding his palm around to your back and unhooking your bra clasp. “And I say you are both cute and sexy.”

“But as sexy as you are in this bra,” Matt purred, hooking his fingers in the straps and drawing them down your arms. “I want to touch your soft skin more.”

And with that, the bra was tossed aside and his hands were cupping your breasts. After getting a feel for their full weight, he started squeezing and kneading the flesh. The thumb of his right hand was the first to find the nipple. It had already stiffened to a peak but that didn’t stop him from rolling it in his fingers.

It felt good. But not so good as to fully distract you from the feast laying within range of your hands. You weren’t bold enough to immediately grab his cock but running your hands over his chest and stomach? That you could do, once again enjoying the feel of his warm, soft skin under your hands. You marveled at the solid muscle as your guesting fingers moved downward. You made a mental note of every place you touched that made him react whether it was twitch, a soft groan, or a harder squeeze on your breasts.

By the time you reached it, you were feeling bold enough to grip the base of his cock. You were rewarded with moan that encouraged you begin to stroke the length of him. You kept glancing up at his face as you moved your hand, to see if he liked what you were doing. That and you enjoyed watching his face contort with pleasure, hearing him moan knowing that you were making him feel good.

A bead of pre-cum was forming at the head of his cock. In a moment of impulsive boldness, you bent down and licked it away with a swipe of your tongue. Matt hissed with pleasure, his hand on your shoulder tightening. It tightened to a near-bruising grip when you did it again. If you had been in another position, one where you could comfortably do it, you would started sucking him off. But bent over, from an upright seated position? Forget it. But a hand-job with occasional teasing licks to the sensitive head of his cock? That was doable.

That it was turning Matt into a panting mess was just a bonus. Turnabout, after all, was fair play.

“Fuck sweetheart, I won’t –” Matt panted out as he used his hold on your shoulder to pull you back upright. “I won’t last much longer if you keep doing that. May I?”

The question made you aware that your previously sated cunt was aching, clenching around the empty air. You hummed agreement and started scooting yourself further onto the bed. To your surprise, he didn’t immediately crawl in after you. Instead he was moving toward a small bedside table that your brain suddenly realized was there.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Getting a condom,” he said. You must have made some of noise or something because he stopped moving and tilted his head in your direction.

“Problem?” he asked.

“Uhm,” you said. “W-we don’t have to use a condom. If you don’t want to. I’m on the pill. And clean. Are you – ?”

“I’m clean,” he confirmed. Then asked, “Are you sure? I promise I don’t mind using one.”

“I’m sure,” you said, blushing again. Logically you knew you should let him use the condom. You had always insisted your partners wear one. But part of you was curious about how it would feel to have sex without one, to have someone cum inside of you. Another part didn’t want barriers of any description between you and Matt.

He was silent and still for a moment. Probably listening to your heart to hear if you were being honest. Or only saying what you thought he wanted to hear. He must have been satisfied with what he heard (and whatever else he used to detect such things) because he nodded and turned away from the table. You finished moving yourself up against the pillows as he got onto the bed and started crawling toward you.

You spread your legs to make room for him and he settled between them. His hands landed on either side of your head, boxing you in. He kissed you and this one was no chaste thing. It was hungry and got hungrier as he reached down with one hand to grab your leg and open it wider. That same hand guided his cock to your cunt. He rubbed his length through your folds, coating himself in your slick before lining himself up with your soaked entrance.

Matt sunk his cock into you, pausing everytime the stretch started to hurt and letting your cunt adjust before pressing in another inch. Then another. And another. Until he was all the way inside you. You moaned. You had never felt so full. No one’s cock had ever felt this good inside you.

Then he started to move. Slowly at first, barely pulling himself out before pressing all the way back in, but building and building until they were long, fluid thrusts. Everything else began to fade away. All you could feel was his cock thrusting into you. All you could hear was his pleasured grunts, your own breathy moans, and the sound of your bodies joining. All you could see was him on top of you, his blissful expression as he fucked you.

Good. It felt so good. And it got even better when your own hips started to match his pace, allowing him to sink in just a little deeper. You feel your second orgasm rapidly growing but you needed more.

“Please,”you begged. “Please, please –”

“What do you need, sweet girl?” he asked, his voice rough and breathy.

“Harder. I need you to fuck me harder,” you whined, too out of your head to be embarrassed by anything you said.

“As you wish.”

The next thrust was harder and it pressed into something inside you that had you crying out. The next thrust came fast on the heels of the first, Matt shifting himself so that each thrust hit that spot. Again and again until you could do nothing but moan, your nails digging into his shoulder.

He slammed into you even harder, then held himself there, impossibly deep inside with your cunt clenching tightly around him. You let out a guttural moan, arching your back and your toes curling. Suddenly you were teetering on that edge for the third time tonight.

“Matt,” you whimpered, sounding so high and breathy that you almost didn’t recognize your own voice. “Matt, Matt, Matt –”

He slammed into you again and you shattered, screaming his name as you came.

Matt groaned as your cunt tightened around his cock like a vice. He buried his face in your neck with muttered ‘fuck’ before he started rapidly pumping into you as he chased his own release. It was sloppier than his previous thrusts, lacked the steady pace, but it still had you making high pitched whines and whimpers from how good it felt.

One more hard thrust, a guttural moan of your name, and he was coming inside you. Your cunt twitched and fluttered around him as he filled you with warmth. The sensation was unfamiliar but pleasing in a way you couldn’t articulate. Especially not with your brain fogged by two orgasm.

Less pleasing was how empty you felt after he pulled himself out of you. But there was nothing you could about that. He couldn’t be inside you all the time. No matter how pleasant that sounded.

But you had to admit, as you drifted off a short time later, that falling asleep in his arms was a pretty good alternative.

Ending Notes:

Reader's meeting with Jo, the Wardrobe Incident, and the food stuff are very loosely based on things that I've experienced. The Fifth Amendment (1791) is the one that says (1) you do not have answer for any capital or other infamous crime without an indictment from a grand jury, (2) cannot be placed in double jeopardy [tried for the exact same crime after being acquitted for said crime], (3) testify against yourself, (4) cannot be deprived of your life, liberty, or property without due process, and (5) private property may not be taken for public use without payment of just compensation. Please note that as with every Amendment (and law) there are nuances, and asterisks and sometimes rather fierce debate what how exactly it is meant to be interpreted. International readers, when an American says they are taking the Fifth, this is what they are referring to, specifically the right against self-incrimination. And why the Miranda warning that you've probably seen on crime dramas includes that "you have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law" line.

#daredevil #fan fic #the alley cat series #matt murdock x fem! reader #matt murdock x fem! reader smut #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you

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swampstew · 7 months

Text

Luffy, N-45 ~ Stockings

Summary: You and your alien boyfriend are going to see a cult classic movie about queer aliens. Y'all get dressed up for the show, Luffy awakens an appetite for pop culture, you awaken an appetite for certain attire on your man.

Warnings: Spicy and suggestive, Alien Luffy with Female implied reader though no pronouns or body parts mentioned, y'all put the whore in whoreror show Word Count: 633

“Are you sure they’re aliens Y/N? They don’t look it – I do like their outfits!” Luffy chirped happily as he looked at the photos you showed him as you both got ready for your date. There was a Rocky Horror Picture screening happening at the local theater and you were so excited to engage with the crowd and bring your alien boyfriend to experience a cult classic. The fact that he was also an alien made the whole thing funnier in your opinion.

“Well you don’t look like an alien either, Luffy. I didn’t know until I saw you stretch your body! Besides this is a fiction, we’re just meant to enjoy the vibes. This has been a Halloween tradition for decades and I can’t believe that after all your years here you’ve never even heard of it!”

You had opted to dress as your favorite, tragic character: Columbia. For Luffy however, you requested he dress as the sassy antagonist of the film – Dr. Frank-N-Furter himself.

You had ordered the costumes and done both your hair and makeup. To be honest, you killed both lewks. You looked gorgeous and jubilant just like the eccentric groupie. Luffy looked other worldy. His hair was tightly curled and styled, his dramatic makeup complimented his face, and his clothes did something to your lower belly. Dressed in a tight corset, neck accented with a comically large, plastic pearl necklace, fishnets over his arms, ripped thigh-high stockings held in place by the clips attached to his leather whore shorts.

Luffy looked perfect. The pinnacle of liberation and queer pride oozing from his rubber alien body. Strutting around the room and rating himself in the mirror, praising your work as he crowed about how identical he looked to the star of the film.

Something broke in your brain. Those stockings in those strappy kitten heels. The way they emphasized his bulging calf and thigh muscles. The way the pump made his round ass look tighter.

You don’t even remember getting to the theater. You vaguely recalled the film itself, feeling unable to look at anyone or anything else but Luffy. He was having the time of his life, actively participating in the show with the bag of goodies given at the door – filled with playing cards, rubber gloves, kazoos and rattle clacker toys, toilet paper, feathers, and more. He danced to the time warp again and again, even after the show ended.

“Y/N, didn’t you enjoy the show?” Luffy asked you and for the first time you felt snapped back to reality. Looking around the nearly empty theater as everyone left to the diner next door for the annual after showtime dinner.

“I-I did. I just,” you stuttered.

“But you didn’t even watch the movie,” he frowned.

“I’ve seen it before,” you tugged his arm back, “But I haven’t seen this before.” His arm stretched in your grip as he was walking towards the exit; he looked back at you with a confused look.

“Aren’t we going to eat?”

“No.”

Luffy let out a surprised cough as you nearly slammed him against the back of the bathroom door. He bounced off the steel frame and you shifted his weight to pin him to the door, your fingers tracing over his exposed skin as you eyed him hungrily.

“I’m in the mood for something else entirely.”

Luffy gave a coy smile, “Oh! Well if that’s all—” he began to yank the shorts and stockings down when you stopped him.

“No, keep the stockings on. You look so fucking good in them,” you traced the bulge of his erection.

The theater was empty and dark. Not a soul in sight. The only sound that could be heard was a muffled roar and the clatter of beads spilling on the floor.

15 tiles to go, 31 calls made so far.

#kinktober 2023 #kinktober #kinktober 2023 masterlist #raven's bingo board #raven's halloween party #one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #monkey d. luffy #swampstew stories #swampstew bedtime stories #monkey d luffy x reader #luffy x you #luffy smut

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dilf-rights-activist · 11 months

Text

Another Life: part 2

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x gender neutral reader, Platonic Hobie Brown & reader

Summary: A sad Miguel O’Hara returns to run his company with slumped shoulders and a cloud over his head. In a somewhat lame attempt to lift his spirits, his assistant, Lyla, runs to a local cafe to get the office some drinks, where she meets a kind barista with a stained apron and tired eyes. Or, the one where you drag your exhausted corpse to your second job to meet Lyla, only to find out her boss had recently been dumped. After work, you settle into the floor of your cozy apartment with your eccentric roommate: one Hobie Brown.

Word count: 3.7k

Content: eventual sugar daddy AU, coffee shop au, no use of (y/n), the slowest of burns (we’re not even gathering fire wood yet), sfw, Hobie being cool, descriptions of financial hardship, swearing, aged up Hobie

AO3 part 1 part 3 part 4

Miguel’s office chair creaked dangerously when he leaned back and breathed out a large sigh. The conference call had been done for ten minutes now, and he was still feeling a little drowsy from his early morning. He looked out his office window just in time to see Jessica scrub a hand over her face, eyes droopy and tired looking. He watched as she stood up and stretched her lower back to release the tension that’s been building there. She sighed and rested a delicate hand on her round belly, rubbing soothing circles before sitting back down again. Miguel has been urging her to take her maternity leave early, but she refuses him every time, stating that he could never survive without her. This wasn’t entirely true but still. Miguel frowned to himself before straightening up at the knock at his door.

“Miguel?” came a high-pitched voice on the other side of the wood.

“Yes?”

The door opened slowly to reveal a young, freckled face smiling brightly at him. “Hey, Miguel! I have the reports you wanted.”

Miguel smiled at his assistant and held out his hand to receive them. “Thanks, Lyla.”

“You got it.” Lyla was a student at Columbia that works part time as Miguel’s assistant. Her cheerful demeanor easily lifted those around her. If he was being honest, he thinks Lyla goofed off a little too much, but she was the best assistant he’s had in a decade. She was quick as a whip, and helped him with everything from managing his allergies to figuring out the best energy source for his nano tech. Plus, Lyla was the only one who could handle him when he was sleep deprived and hangry (which was all the time).

The brunette fell silent as he looked down at the reports in his hands, not really paying enough attention to process any of the words he read.

“Hey, Miguel?”

He startled and looked up at Lyla, she was still here? He must have really been out of it.

“Yeah?”

Lyla’s big brown eyes peered at him pensively before sighing through her nose “You doing okay, boss?” Her glossy pink lips were pulled into a small frown. “You look…tired. Like, way more than usual.”

Miguel huffed softly and blew a stray strand of hair out of his face. “Alright, One: I am tired. And Two:” He looked at her sternly, pointing a strong finger to emphasize his point. “I am fine.” He said a little too quickly. Lyla rolled her eyes and groaned dramatically.

“C’mon, Miguel! You can tell me!” She walked up to his heavy desk and placed both hands atop its smooth surface. “What? Did the Mets lose a game?”

“The season is over-“

“A pigeon poop on your Porsche?”

“No-“

“Did Tony call you ‘Dark Garfield’ again?”

“No!”

“You get dumped?”

Miguel’s jaw shut promptly and he pursed his lips into a tight sneer. He looked at his grinning assistant, who had clearly said that as a joke. She blinked a couple times at his silence, slowly picking up her hands from his desk as she straightened a little.

“Oh shit. Really?” She said softly, almost feeling bad for bringing it up so casually. “I’m…sorry to hear that.”

The large man let out a soft laugh and waved his hand in the air. “It’s fine, Lyla. Really, it is.” he sighed, was he trying to convince Lyla or himself?

The girl looked at her sneakers and shuffled awkwardly for a second, “Is there anything I can do for you? Cancel your appointments? Get you coffee?”

Miguel visibly perked up at that. “Yeah, that would be great, actually. There’s actually a specific place I’d like you to go to…”

---

A heavy sigh left your lips as you bent forward and leaned onto the counter in front of you, limbs going unpleasantly numb from overuse. You stayed there for a couple moments, contemplating just how you let your life get to this particularly pathetic point. Peter was right, the morning rush had been bad. Exhausted students and working class New Yorkers alike came in by the truck load, shooting order after order at you and your boss with little sympathy.

You glanced down at Peter, who was currently squatting behind the counter and wolfing down a croissant like his life depended on it.

“Slow down or you’re gonna choke, stupid.”

The brunette looked at you like a man possessed. “Shut up! I haven’t eaten anything today!”

You laughed softly and flexed your fingers, wincing as they cracked and popped. “Christ, I’m tired. And it’s only,” you glanced at your watch and held back a groan. “8 am.”

Peter looked at you and wiped the crumbs off of his frowning face. “You sleep any last night?”

“Only the usual four hours.” you grimaced and put your head down again. “Some dude came in last minute to drink last night.”

“Damn.” Peter sighed from his place on the floor. “I wish I could help somehow. I’d do anything for you, y’know.”

You smiled and peeked at him through your arms. You met Peter during your second year of college. He remembered you frequenting his cafe as a freshman to fuel up on caffeine and use his Wi-Fi. He always welcomed you with ease (and not just because you were a good tipper). Eventually, he offered you a job, and you’ve been working with him ever since. You opened your mouth to say something before the bell at the door chimed through the cafe, signifying that someone walked in.

“Customers!” Peter almost shrieked, tucking more into himself on the floor. “Don’t let them see me! I’m not here!”

So much for doing anything for you!

You shot him a look before straightening up to see a girl with a large white coat and fluffy brown hair peer up at the chalkboard menu above you.

“Hey, welcome in.” you smiled and lightly kicked Peter’s side behind the counter. The quiet “Ow!” wasn’t heard by the girl in front of you as her large eyes darted from her phone to the menu at an alarming rate.

“Hi!”

After exchanging pleasantries you nodded as she relayed her lengthy order, talking at 100 words a minute.

Her hazel eyes blinked behind her heart shaped lenses. “Sorry for the large order! These are for my office.”

“It’s no problem!” You lied through your teeth. “What’s your name?”

“Lyla.”

“Lieee-Luh.” you repeated slowly you wrote her name on the empty cups before you, making sure to draw little hearts on her’s. “Got it! I’ll have these out in a little bit.” Lyla gave you a million watt smile and nodded eagerly, making his way to the end of the bar where her drinks were to be deposited. You went through the motions of drink making with ease, humming lightly to yourself to keep you focused. You looked at Peter, who has yet to move from his position on the floor. You flipped him off quickly and capped Lyla’s drinks, ignoring the over dramatic look of hurt the musician shot you.

“Thank you so much,” Lyla looked at you from across the bar and smiled.

“It’s really no problem, it’s literally my job.”

“Yeah, but still…” she chuckled to herself. “I think this’ll really help.”

That caught your attention and you looked up from the carmel drizzle you were working on. “Yeah? With what?”

A small crease appeared between Lyla’s worried brows as she smiled sadly. “My boss got dumped yesterday.” You pulled a face, Yikes, you thought, not a good season for the lovers. Your mind immediately drifted to the heart broken man that came into the restaurant last night. His entire demeanor was depressed with loneliness, even his hair seemed to droop slightly in sadness. You didn’t know the man very well, but you could tell that he was a person who would go out of his way to help someone, someone that wouldn’t hesitate to do the right thing. You hoped he was okay.

“Oh…” you started lamely, because how the fuck were you supposed to respond? “That sucks.” Lyla’s head snapped up at your abrupt reply. You blinked, realizing that you must have been more tired than you thought because what the fuck? You can’t talk to customers like that! You pressed your lips together and quickly thought of an apology. “I’m-”

“It does suck, right?” She smiled lopsidedly and let out a laugh. You breathed out a sigh, relieved that she wasn’t going to write Aunt May a strongly worded letter or trash the cafe on Yelp. You finished the rest of the drinks with ease, handing Lyla her order in two cup holders.

“Thanks a bunch!” She took his order with a grin and began to turn towards the exit.

“Ah, wait one second!” You said before sidestepping a still squatting Peter (who had somehow gotten another croissant) to quickly shove a few pastries into two paper bags. You stood there in thought for a second before grabbing a sharpie from the cash register, scribbling something on one of them.

“Thank you for being patient with me.” you said, handing Lyla the baked goods. “One of those is for you, good luck at the office!”

If you thought the girl’s smile was blinding before it really had nothing on her expression now. “Really?”

“For sure.”

Lyla’s heart shrouded eyes blinked at you for a moment, as if studying you. Her pink lips spread into a grin before turning to you fully. “What’s your name?”

You smiled back at her and gave her your name as you dusted your hands on your apron. “The other one is for your boss, tell them to take it easy, okay?”

---

Miguel stared at the city’s activity below him from his office window. People milled about on the sidewalk below, interacting with one another throughout their day. The large man took a bite out of his scone thoughtfully, admiring the subtle vanilla flavor. Lyla came in with his coffee order not too long ago, bringing a small pastry bag as a surprise. He said that a nice barista gave it to him, ordering her to tell him to “take it easy”. Miguel accepted the treats gratefully, promising Lyla that he was fine (really, he was).

Probably.

He popped the last of the scone in his mouth and moved to toss the bag in the trash before something caught his eye. Looking at the pastry bag more carefully, he could see that the barista left him a small note.

Everything’s gonna be okay. If it’s not okay, that’s okay too.

Miguel dusted his crummy mouth as he stared at the piece of paper, chuckling softly to himself. The barista also drew him a cute little bunny giving him a thumbs up in encouragement.

The brunette’s thick brows knitted as he carefully tore his little note away from the rest of the bag. Miguel placed the note in one of his desk drawers after making sure that there were no remaining crumbs sticking to it and threw the rest away (he hated ants).

“Looks like I’ve got someone looking out for me.”

---

You tapped your pencil against the page in front of you in annoyance and took a large sip of your tea. You started doing your homework over an hour ago and barely made any progress due to its difficulty. You huffed, recalling just how little you paid attention in class due to always falling asleep.

You stared at the equations in front of you, and they glared back just as intensely. You looked up from your staring contest to glance at your roommate, Hobie, who was humming quietly to himself as he created the setlist for his next show. You met Hobie when you first moved to the city for school. He was born in Camden Town, London, and was literally the coolest person you have ever met. He came to New York to work on his music and study fashion. His time was split between that, antagonizing fascists, being a part-time runway model, and working at the bar with you. You saw him sneaking shots for both himself and some of his regulars, but never told a soul. You knew Hobie hated working there, hated being a cog in the system, but he had bills to pay (you both did). The two of you shared a cozy space nestled in the center of New York City’s ChinaTown, right below the smog covered stars, and right above Timmy Chan’s Hong Kong Style Dim Sum (a favorite lunch time spot you frequented together).

“Hey, Hobie. Could you help me a little?”

He looked up from his notes, pen cap stuck in between his lips and grinned.

”Yeah, sure. What is it?”

You smiled gratefully, picking up the page and walking over to him. You crossed your legs and sat on the floor at his side as his eyes skimmed the page, nodding as he read along.

“You daft?” Hobie elbowed your side gently. “Integral calculus? This is bright and breezy.”

You looked up at his big brown eyes and pouted. “I’ve been falling asleep in class.” you said with a huff. Hobie’s pierced brows creased with concern at this, shuffling slightly to wrap an arm around you.

“Again?”

“Again.” you sighed. You looked to the ground, idly picking at the fraying carpet you two sat on. You knew Hobie worried about you and how hard you’ve been pushing yourself. He could see how the stress from work and school were affecting your health and it was beginning to concern him.

“Y’right?”

You looked up at him wryly, bringing a hand up to flick his shoulder lightly.

“I’m alright.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Hobie squinted at you before turning back to the page in his hands, deciding to drop the subject for now. “Whatever. You’d tell me otherwise, yeah?”

You leaned on his shoulder and nuzzled his bicep playfully, yawning obnoxiously before saying, “Of course.”

He gazed upon your drooping form, pursing his lips. “You said you only hit the sack for, what? Four hours?”

“Just about, yeah.”

Hobie huffed and straightened out the piece of paper in his hands. “Right, some dick walked in right before closing and demanded to be served.”

“He wasn’t a dick he was just…” you adjusted yourself on his shoulder. “Sad.”

“A sad dick?”

“No!” you smacked him lightly and you could feel yourself shake with the rumble of Hobie’s chest as he chuckled warmly. You thought about the man that came into your life the other night, it amazed you how someone so large managed to look so small.

“He just got dumped.”

“Bliiiiimey.” He pulled a face.

“That’s what I said!”

“Oh, really?”

“Well, not that exactly!” You huffed out a sigh. “He looked like a kicked puppy. Which is hilarious, because the man is like a building with feet.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! His arms are like tree trunks! I think he could kill me with a flick of his wrist.” You shook Hobie’s lean arm lightly to illustrate your point. “He just looked so...hurt. And he just, like, accepted it, y’know? Like he’s been hurt like this before.” you blinked and lowered your eyes, hugging Hobie’s arm a little tighter. “I hope he’s okay.”

Dark eyes shifted from the paper and onto the top of your head, Hobie huffed out a small laugh. “Aw, you fancy him.”

You pulled back from your friend’s arm sharply and gaped up at him. “I do not!” Fancy him? You only just met the guy and knew nothing about him. Fancy him!

Hobie threw his head back and let out a bark of laughter. “You do!”

“I don’t, I just-“ you huffed out a breath and paused to collect your thoughts. “I dunno, there was just something…about him, y’know? He seemed like someone who had a lot to offer the world, to offer someone. He looked like he had given up. Seeing him crushed like that just doesn’t sit right with me.”

He side eyed you skeptically and let out a sigh through his nose. You were always pushing yourself so hard, always putting others first (often at a detriment to yourself). Between the two (sometimes three) jobs and school, he had no idea how you were functioning. Hobie grimaced, thinking about the multiple occasions where you were so overwhelmed you sat on the floor eating (his) instant noodles while crying, too stressed to even tell him what was wrong. Other times, he’d go days without seeing you as you’d lock yourself in your apartment to focus on schoolwork, scaring him half to death with your lack of response. He physically kicked in the door of your room only to find you half dead and twitchy in your hyper-focused state. He never wanted to see you like that again.

“Yeah, well” he shrugged and you whined as the movement jostled you on his bicep. “Just don’t bugger off with your fit bev and leave me with your rent.” You laughed softly and pressed your cheek into his arm, smiling against it.

“I could never, Hobie.”

You assumed he accepted your response, as he nodded and turned his attention back to your math homework.”Right, the integral of 2xd is x squared, yeah? You plug that in here at the top and subtract the bottom.”

You breathed deeply and closed your eyes, already feeling yourself start to doze off again. You knew you should be paying attention, but you were too content with snuggling up to Hobie’s arm for some (not so) well deserved sleep.

“Thirteen squared is 169, minus ten squared is…Oi. Oi, you listenin’? Do your homework!” he jostled you gently.

“Yeah...of course…” you mumbled quietly.

Hobie looked down at you with a frown, already knowing that any attempt he made at waking you would be in vain. He sighed as he picked up his pen from its abandoned spot on the floor, deciding to finish your homework for you.

“Hopefully I can mimic your rubbish handwriting.” he sighed.

“Y’can’t do math homework in pen,” you mumbled.

“I don’t believe in conformity.” He sniffed before twirling the pen in his fingers. He tenaciously began to scribble perfect arithmetic on your page, stopping only to smile when you let out a sleepy “thanks” against his arm.

“Anytime, love.”

---

The long days turned into longer weeks as time went by. Miguel went through the motions of his position of CEO with relative ease, meticulously leading his company to further success.

That’s what he told himself, anyway.

Large shoulders sagged as Miguel sighed into the palms of his hands before peeking through his fingers to blearily peer at the clock in his desktop monitor.

8:43 pm

Jesus Christ, was it already that late? The brunette looked up through his office windows to find that yes, it really was that late, as the building’s lights had shut off and everyone had long gone home. Miguel has since changed into more comfortable clothing to ease him into his work night. The soft material of his oversized gray hoodie combined with the relaxed fit of his favorite pair of loose joggers were the perfect combination for his frequent occasional over night stays in the office. The man let out a yawn as he stretched his arms high above his head before rising from his chair, ready to call it a day. Grabbing his coat and phone, Miguel left the building, letting the automatic doors lock behind him with a soft click.

The brunette inhaled the Autumn air with a light hum before beginning his commute back to his apartment, occasionally picking up litter as he went because why not. He listened to the sounds of the bustling city; the distant sirens, the blaring music from strangers’ headphones as they walked past, the clinking of ceramic in cozy cafes.

Oh. Miguel slowed his stride to a stop in front of a small coffee shop lit warmly within, the same shop he sent Lyla on a coffee run to. Turning fully to face the entrance, the brunette spotted the same nice looking man he saw the first time he laid eyes on the shop. Miguel checked his watch to glance at the time before walking through the wooden door that led to the sweet smelling cafe.

Notes: I deadass spent over an hour learning about the English Cockney accent and have two (2) tabs open with English to Cockney translators. If anyone has any suggestions on how I can make Hobie sound more in character PLEASE let me know. Part of me wants to really lean into the rhyming slang, but I’m afraid no one will be able to understand him (but that’s, like, part of his character right?), he’s in his early twenties here.

The answer to the equation Hobie was solving is 69 lol

#miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara fic #miguel x you #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara x you #across the spiderverse fanfiction #sugar daddy au #coffee shop au #bar/pub au #platonic Hobie brown #i hate tagging these like its humiliating lmao #writing

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pagesfromthevoid · 1 year

Text

Traicionero | j.p.

Javier Peña x fem!reader

Word Count: 9.9k (Ahaha woops)

Warnings: mentions of canon typical violence. Oral (f receiving). P in V sex. Fingering. Dubious consent (Javi is drunk when he gets to her). Plot with smut basically. Poorly translated Spanish. Possibly OOC Javier?

Author’s Note: I don’t even know why I wrote this. More importantly I don’t know why I needed any sort of plot to fuck Javier Peña but alas. Here we are. Also, yes. I totally got the opening line from Teen Wolf. Don't fuckin' judge me.

Requests are OPEN

“Do you wanna hear it in Spanish, Peña?” She mocked, standing tall in front of the ambassador’s office door. He was glaring down at her, eyes narrowed. “No.”

“Fucking clever, princesa,” he countered, reaching out to move her. But she blocked his hands.

“Touch me, and I swear to God, Peña —Escobar will be the least of your concerns.”

“Ooh, you’re so scary,” he taunted, grabbing her upper arms to move her once more. With her heel, she slammed her foot into his boot and he cussed angrily and released her. “Jesus Christ. Just let me through.”

“I’m under strict orders to let no one in this office. Especially you.”

As the new assistant to the Ambassador of the US in Columbia, she wasn’t about to risk her job because of some pretty boy agent who thought he was the shit. Crosby had made himself very clear when she was hired: don’t let Peña boss her around; don’t let Murphy guilt trip her. She was the fourth assistant in three years, with the other three having quit due to pressure or been fired for not being able to follow orders.

Crosby blamed Javier Peña for the first two quitting; certain the agent didn’t call or hurt their feelings enough to make the women refuse to work with him. The third one was fired for leaking information to the press.

She would be different. She already was. Agent Peña wasn’t going to get her in bed, for one. He’d tried during her first week. Flirted up a goddamn storm. Complimented everything about her from her hair to her nails to her shoes. It was a fine daydream at first —he was pretty and polite as far as she could tell —until Crosby called her into his office and warned her.

So she stopped with that dangerous daydream, choosing to ignore Peña. Just because he was attractive didn’t give him the right to fuck around with everything that had a pulse. Besides, the whole better-than-you thing he had going on annoyed her after the second week. And the way he kept looking at her —like she was a piece of meat needing to be inspected —made her never want to wear a skirt again.

Which she hadn’t, by the way. She had taken to wearing slacks and flowy blouses that didn’t expose more skin than necessary. Was it inconvenient in the Colombian heat? Absolutely. But did it keep Agent Peña from staring at her? Not really at first, but he didn’t do it as much now. And that’s what she cared about.

“I will happily schedule you an appointment,” she offered, though she didn’t step away from the office door.

“Yeah, next fucking year.”

“Actually, I think he has an opening tomorrow at 10.”

“Yeah, I needed him 10 minutes ago, sweetheart. Not gonna fly.”

She just shrugged, hands on her hips as they stared each other down. However, maybe Peña realized he had been beaten. Or maybe he just didn’t care enough to fight with her anymore. Because finally, he threw his hands in the air and stormed off, bitching about wasting his time.

Fifteen minutes later, however, Steve Murphy tried his hand.

“I really recommend you walk away from me, Agent Murphy.”

“Yes ma’am.”

———

Four months into the job, and the war against Pablo Escobar, Ambassador Crosby ordered her to take up a desk at the base. She didn’t argue, given his reasoning was solid (“I need someone there to filter through the bullshit. They come to you, you call me.”). However, her new position meant a significant lifestyle change that was a bit more abrupt than she expected.

Turns out, living on a Colombian military base was awful. And even more so, if you were American. And a woman. And as if those two things didn’t make her question quitting her job almost daily (not that she would, but goddamn, she wanted to lately with the amount of bloodied soldiers and cops that came in) —it meant spending an annoying amount of time with Murphy and Peña, who had been sidelined.

Her desk was ten feet away from where the two DEA agents set up their space. Murphy offered to push her closer, joking that they could be the three musketeers, but she just returned to the paperwork she had already filled out, ignoring him.

“One of these days, you’re gonna be thankful it’s us here and not anyone else, hermosa,” Peña stated one evening, lighting the cigarette that hung loosely from his lips.

“I’ll be thankful when you actually manage to catch Escobar instead of fucking up raids,” she countered, not looking up from the notes she was rewriting for Martinez.

Murphy laughed at that, and she glanced up as his chair creaked when he leaned back in it. “She’s got a point there, Javi.”

“Shut the fuck up. Whose side are you on?”

“The side that’s usually right,” Murphy continued, looking at her with a grin.

She almost made a comment regarding listening to his wife if that was the case, but she stopped herself. It had been a bad day when he stormed out of the base the afternoon that Connie left; she wasn’t that cruel.

“Flattery gets you nowhere with me.” She hummed a bit, setting her pen down and rubbing her eyes with the heel of her palm. The words were jumbling together, and translating from English to Spanish was difficult for someone who was not fluent in the language. And low on caffeine.

“Oh, we know,” Peña replied, sitting on his desk. “If it did, we’d have so much more intel —,”

“Agent Peña,” she interrupted, looking up at him with tired eyes. For a moment, she swore he looked concerned but she chalked it up to wishful thinking; thinking he could care about anyone but himself was a reckless path to put herself on. “As much as I just love listening to you bitch about me doing my job correctly —I can’t handle it right now. So either get me coffee, or shut the fuck up.”

Neither he nor Murphy said another word, looking between each other for a moment before Murphy motioned for him to move. Peña was about to slide off his desk when the phone rang, and his attention snapped back to his actual task at hand as he answered it. She blinked a few times, shaking her head for a second to wake herself up, before she stood up.

Stretching her arms up over her head, she let out a quiet groan as her joints popped. When was the last time she stood up? It felt like it had been hours.

Peña looked at her curiously, phone still pressed to his ear. He paused for a moment, hand over the bottom of the receiver, and this time, she was sure there was concern evident in his tone. "You okay?"

She paused, surprised by the genuine concern in his tone. Dropping back into her chair, she ran a hand over her face, trying to think of something witty to say. But Peña's unexpected display of empathy caught her off guard. For a moment, she considered brushing it off with a dismissive remark, but the weariness in her body won over her usual defenses.

"You actually wanna know?” She asked, eying him closely as she wondered if he actually cared. But Peña nodded, kicking his feet up on his desk as he leaned back his chair, motioning for her to keep talking. She hesitated a moment before she finally spoke, her voice lacking its usual sharpness. "Long nights, endless paperwork…I’m just tired, that’s all.”

Understanding flickered in Peña's gaze, and he nodded sympathetically. "I get it," he replied, glancing at the phone for a moment before he let out a frustrated huff, though he motioned to the phone as if to say he was reacting to the caller. “Look, those notes are gonna be there when you get back. Martinez won’t be here for an hour or two anyway. Why don't you take a break, grab some fresh air –there’s a café down the street from the base that has the good shit.”

She opened her mouth to argue –to make some snide comment about his knowledge of the area –but stopped herself. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself not to let her guard down. Peña may have shown a brief moment of concern, but she knew better than to trust his actions completely. She had learned from both experience and word of mouth that he had his own agenda. She wasn't about to let her guard down just because of a momentary lapse in his usual demeanor.

But…maybe she’d be a little nicer, if only because he was also being nice. The skepticism still lingered, but she couldn't help but entertain the idea that perhaps there was a genuine moment of connection between them, however fleeting it might be.

“Do you want anything?”

He looked back at her, his brow raised as he considered her offer. A mischievous smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he snuffed out his cigarette and hung up the phone. "Finally offering to do a coffee run? Took ya long enough," he teased, his usual annoying self resurfacing. “Not today, cariño. Maybe tomorrow.”

Her momentary hope deflated, replaced by annoyance. So much for his newfound niceness.

She rolled her eyes, grabbing her bag and adjusting the strap on her shoulder. "Unlikely," she retorted, brushing past him as she walked out of the base.

When she returned an hour later, coffee in hand and the sun setting over the Colombian horizon, she found that her notes were typed up and translated, sitting in a neat pile on her desk. The aroma of fresh coffee mingled with the fading daylight, creating a sense of calm in the otherwise chaotic office. Her brow furrowed as she looked around the makeshift space they called an office, the empty chairs and silent surroundings indicating that Murphy and Peña were both long gone for the night.

A mix of surprise and intrigue washed over her. She hadn't expected anyone to take the initiative to organize her notes, especially not Peña. It was a small act, but it hinted at a flicker of unexpected consideration. Perhaps there was more to him than met the eye.

With a curious smile tugging at her lips, she sat down at her desk, her fingers tracing the neatly typed pages. As she perused the translations, she couldn't help but appreciate the effort that had gone into it. She took a sip of her coffee, savoring its warmth as she leaned back in her chair, contemplating the possibilities. Tomorrow would only bring more chaos –such was the life they lived in Colombia –but for now, she would appreciate what felt like an olive branch being extended.

Maybe she would be a little nicer to Javier Peña.

———

“Come out with us,” Steve offered about two months later, leaning back in his chair.. “We finally gotta win –we’re all going out to celebrate.”

In the weeks that followed Peña’s random act of kindness, the three Americans found themselves on far friendlier terms than before. Sure, Javier was still narcissist of the year —but he was nicer about it. What she would have deemed snarky commentary before had become a back and forth banter that Murphy swore up and down was flirting. Each time he made that comment, she gave him a dirty look and rolled her eyes, always responding with something along the lines of In his fucking dreams.

To which Peña would always have a comeback, usually following suit of Always in my dreams, cariño or something equally as cheesy. It was always returned with a little smirk on her end, or a wink from him.

Okay so maybe it was flirting.

But it was friendly flirting. Nothing more. That path was reckless, even if she was starting to hate him a little less than before.

“And watch you get shit faced while Peña flirts with anyone with a pulse?” She countered, fanning herself with the folder in her hand. Summer had hit Colombia hard, and she was melting in her blouse and slacks. Even pulling her hair up didn’t stop her from feeling like her body was more liquid than skin. “I’d rather not.”

“Got better plans?”

“Maybe I booked a nice hotel for the night so I could pamper myself,” she mused, resting her chin in her palm as she looked at the blonde agent. “Maybe I have a date. Who knows? It’s not really your business, is it?”

“There’s not any nice hotels around here, so try again,” Steve teased back, moving to sit on her desk now as he looked down at her. “About the date…I mean, you could but do you actually?”

She gave him a pointed look, before glancing around the base. One of the soldiers was walking by with a box of files, and she called out his name –Andrés. He paused, leaning over the rail to give her his full attention, just as Peña stormed into the base. She didn’t pay him too much attention as she smiled up at the soldier, batting her lashes some as she asked him out. Peña, however, stopped and watched the interaction, brow furrowed.

“¿Salgamos esta noche?”

The soldier looked surprised for a moment but nodded rapidly, smiling brightly at her as he offered to get her at 7. “Absolutamente. ¿Siete?”

“Suena bien.”

The soldier nodded again and walked off to finish his work, clearly a little more pep in his step. She leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest as she gave Murphy a smug grin. “You were saying?”

Steve just rolled his eyes in exasperation as Peña abruptly yanked his chair out, carelessly tossing his jacket onto the desk. She observed the interaction between them, her brow raised in curiosity as Peña began rummaging through his drawers, seemingly searching for something.

"What's wrong, Javi?" Steve asked, pushing himself off her desk and approaching his partner, concern etched on his face.

"Nothing," Peña snapped, his tone sharp and dismissive. He retrieved a cigarette from the drawer and swiftly lit it, remaining tight-lipped and refusing to offer any further explanation.

She watched as Steve glanced back at her momentarily, a mixture of frustration and confusion evident on his face. Sensing that they were about to engage in a private conversation, they leaned in closer to each other, their voices dropping to hushed whispers that shielded their conversation from her ears.

Unable to catch their words, she watched Steve’s back with a deep frown. It was moments like this, where the two shielded themselves from her earshot, that reminded her that they weren’t properly friends. They didn’t trust her not to rat them out to Crosby. The secrecy between the two partners only reminded her that she was not part of this little team of theirs.

Peña abruptly stood again, frustration etched on his face, and snatched his jacket once more. Steve, mirroring his partner's actions, swiftly straightened up and retrieved his own coat. He cast a brief glance back at her, his eyes reflecting weariness but also attempting to offer a reassuring smile, before the two of them hastily exited the base. The sound of their hurried footsteps echoed through the room, fading into the distance as they disappeared beyond the door.

Left behind, she remained seated for a moment, her mind swirling with a mixture of confusion, surprise, and concern. She stared intently at the retreating backs of Javier and Steve, their forms gradually vanishing from view. Questions flooded her thoughts, demanding answers to what the hell just happened.

***

She ended up canceling her last minute date, having decided that whatever was going on with Peña and Murphy was probably far more important than proving a point to Murphy that she could get a date.

It had been nearly three hours since the two agents practically ran out of the base, and while she didn’t directly ask Crosby what was going on, she tried to dance around the question. The ambassador just told her that someone was leaking information to Los Pepes, allowing the vigilante group to take down another one of Pablo’s guys without the DEA or Colombian police being involved. Crosby told her to keep an ear and eye out for anything off and well…

Javier Peña was off that afternoon.

However, she didn’t mention that.

She just promised she would and hung up, running her hands through her hair as she considered what to do next. As she tried to focus on her work, she pushed thoughts of Javier Peña from her mind. If she even began to think that Peña was the one leaking intel, then she would panic around him and she knew that was no good. It wouldn’t end well for anyone involved, especially if he wasn’t.

Another half an hour passed before Peña’s phone rang again. For the first few rings, she ignored it. It rang all the time –usually tips and intel, or Messina calling to scold him. Usually, it would stop and go to his voicemail. Tonight, however, it stopped then rang again. After the third time, she huffed in annoyance and stood, picking up the receiver. Before she could say anything, however, a voice that she’d only heard through captured recordings, hissed in her ear: Don Berna.

“I thought we were meeting for coffee, Peña?”

Immediately, she hung up the phone and stepped away, her eyes wide. Silently, she cursed to herself as she hurried back to her desk and grabbed her bag and satellite phone then rushed out the doors of the base. Maybe it was just a cartel guy who wanted to turn a new leaf. There wasn’t a reason to think that Peña was working with Berna or feeding him information. She couldn’t just assume the worst.

Okay, so that wasn’t true.

She always assumed the worst in Javier Peña. She had since the moment she met him, and she had continued even after he proved he wasn’t necessarily the worst. But she couldn’t assume that he was actually helping Los Pepes kill innocent people just to get to Escobar. There was just…there was no way.

“Answer your phone, you jackass,” she hissed into her satellite phone, listening to it ring a few times before being hung up on. She dialed it again, getting into her car with it pressed to her ear. “Javier Peña, I swear to God, I’m going to kill you myself –,”

“What the fuck do you want?” He answered, voice clipped and laced in anger.

“I think we need to meet,” she replied, and she wondered if he could hear the trembling in her voice. “For coffee.”

There was a silence that hung between the lines, static being the only sound that filled the cracks. She was shaking, her heart threatening to break through her ribcage as she waited for him to speak. To own up, or lie, or anything.

“Agent Peña,” she hissed, trying to get him to say something back to her.

“I’ll be at the café in ten minutes.”

“Is that the same one you fucking meet –,”

“Shut your damn mouth,” he snapped at her, hanging up the phone.

She stared at it blankly, taking a moment to calm her nerves before she threw it into the passenger seat and took off into town. Maybe it would have been better to walk, give her time to cool down and find a reason to justify why a cartel boss would be calling her, but she wanted a quick getaway if everything suddenly went south.

Not that she thought Peña would do anything to her –but she couldn’t be sure anymore.

She parked outside the café, sitting in her car for several minutes before she considered even getting out. What she should be doing is going back to the base, calling the ambassador, and telling him what she had learned. How could she be risking her goddamn job because of Javier fucking Peña? In what world did that make any sense, especially given how –

The passenger side of her car swung open abruptly, and a jolt of surprise shot through her body, causing her to let out a startled yelp. Instinctively, she pressed herself further into the door, her back firmly planted against it, as Peña climbed into the car. The sudden proximity between them made her acutely aware of his presence, and a mix of emotions washed over her like a tidal wave.

Her heart pounded in her chest, its rapid beats echoing in her ears, as she struggled to regain her composure. Wide-eyed, she stared at him, momentarily frozen by the intensity of the situation. The surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins made her briefly contemplate the idea of delivering a forceful blow to his face—a physical manifestation of the frustration and exasperation he had caused with his reckless actions.

As her mind raced, grappling with conflicting thoughts and emotions, his voice cut through the silence, jolting her back to reality.

"What did he say?" he demanded, his tone firm and unwavering.

She found herself gaping at him, caught off guard by the absence of denial in his response. The sheer audacity of his nonchalance left her momentarily speechless. A mix of anger and disbelief flickered in her eyes as she struggled to find her voice.

"You're not even going to deny it?" she managed to utter, her words laced with a blend of astonishment and accusation.

Peña met her gaze, his own eyes locking with hers, unflinching. "Why the fuck would I? You already know," he retorted, his voice tinged with frustration. "You're not an idiot."

His words struck a nerve, and she felt a surge of conflicting emotions within her—anger, disappointment, but also a lingering sense of understanding. But that understanding was being overtaken by the sheer anger she felt towards the agent. She watched as he briefly glanced out the back window, seemingly checking for any signs of surveillance, before returning his focus to her, leaning in closer.

"What did he say?" he repeated, this time his voice softer, his tone carrying a hint of vulnerability amidst the tension that hung in the air.

Her initial impulse was to withhold the information, to maintain an element of control and power in this nightmare they were engaged in. But as she looked into his eyes, the walls she had built around herself began to crumble.

“He just…he said he thought you were meeting him for coffee,” she explained, looking up at him with a small frown and her brow furrowed.

Peña's eyes darted away, unable to meet her gaze directly. His usual confident demeanor wavered, revealing a hint of guilt that played across his features. A heavy silence filled the car, punctuated only by the sound of their collective breaths. She waited anxiously for his response, her heart pounding in her chest, hoping against hope that he would vehemently deny the accusation. But as the seconds stretched into an eternity, his admission hung in the air, weighted with a sense of betrayal.

A mix of disbelief and anguish washed over her, the realization hitting her like a brick through a window. Her voice trembled as she spoke again, her words laced with a mix of sorrow and desperation. "Peña...please, tell me it's not actually you that's leaking our intel to Los Pepes."

He sighed heavily, a mixture of regret and resignation etched on his face. "I wish I could say it's not true," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I've made some choices...choices that I thought were necessary, because things weren’t getting done.”

Her world seemed to crumble around her, the foundation of trust they had built eroded in an instant. A whirlwind of emotions raged within her—anger, hurt, and a profound sense of disappointment. She had trusted him, relied on him for months because she didn’t have a damn choice, actually managed to kind of like the bastard and now that trust lay shattered.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Javier?” She demanded, pushing herself upright, scrambling to hit him anywhere she could. She wasn’t necessarily the strongest, and truthfully didn’t really know how to throw a punch, but she was angry. And he deserved to be fucking hit.

And he let her.

He sat there, stoic and unmoving, his face a mask of acceptance. He made no attempt to dodge or defend himself, allowing her fists to rain down upon him. Her poorly trained punches landed on his arms, her fists colliding with his solid form, but he didn’t flinch or retaliate. His passive response only fueled her anger further.

The sound of her strikes echoed in the air, each smack a cathartic release of frustration and disappointment. Her fists became a conduit for her emotions, as if the physical pain she inflicted upon him could somehow alleviate the emotional pain within her. But with each blow, she realized the uselessness of her actions.

As her punches gradually weakened, exhaustion and sadness began to replace her initial rage. The weight of the situation pressed upon her, and she felt the heaviness in her limbs. Her fists gradually dropped to her sides, her trembling hands a reflection of the turbulent storm of emotions raging within her.

She looked at him, searching for any sign of remorse or explanation in his eyes. But his gaze offered no explanation; nothing that he was able to say to make her feel better. He knew what he did, and she knew he didn’t regret it.

Breathing heavily, she fell back into her door, the intensity of the moment hanging between them. The anger that had fueled her actions now subsided, leaving a void filled with a mixture of disappointment and a longing for answers. The silence between them seemed to stretch on, punctuated only by the heavy silence of unspoken words.

“Get out of my car, Javier.”

He swallowed hard, she could hear it, before he pushed her door open. As he turned to get out, he paused, looking back at her. She stared forward, gripping her steering wheel tight enough that her knuckles were white.

“I…,” he took a breath, looking down for a moment before he shook his head and got out. “Can’t believe it took this long for you to call me by my first name.”

She let out a watery laugh, trying to keep herself from crying. He stared at her for several moments, but she refused to meet his gaze, instead opting to start her car and wipe her eyes. For just a little while, she really thought maybe he wasn’t that bad. That Javier Peña was actually a decent person, who she was begrudgingly attracted to. She knew that he and Steve did things a bit against the rules; it was hard not to see it. But this was too far, even by that standard.

She took a deep breath, swallowing down her tears again. “I was so close to not hating you —,”

“If you’re gonna tell Crosby —,”

They spoke over each other, and both stopped as they waited for the other to finish.

“I’m not,” she finally said, before she could stop herself. But she still refused to look at him. “I…I’m not gonna tell him, Peña. Consider it the only favor I’ll ever do for you.”

He let out a wry chuckle, shaking his head as he finally got out of her car. The door slammed against the frame, and she watched from the corner of her eye as he walked around the front to her side of the car. Hesitating, she rolled the window down, finally meeting his gaze as he rested his hand on the roof, leaning down.

“Thank you, hermosa,” he murmured, voice low as he leaned into the car further. “And for what it’s worth —I’ve never hated you.”

Truthfully, she didn’t hate him either. Looking up at him from her seat, she had the sudden urge to pull him into a tight hug; tell him it was okay. That she understood why he did it.

But she’d be lying if she did. Because she didn’t understand; not really.

———

He was drunk.

No, that wasn't accurate.

He was shit-faced.

Javier stumbled through the dimly lit bar, his movements unsteady and his mind clouded by a swirling haze of alcohol. The weight of his actions bore down on him, threatening to suffocate him with a potent mix of guilt and self-loathing. Each step he took was a struggle, as if the weight of his choices had multiplied tenfold.

He had watched her drive away, leaving an empty void in his chest. The taillights of her car faded into the distance, a visual representation of the fracture he had caused in the barely there friendship they had in the first place. She wasn’t supposed to find out; no one was.

Driven by a mix of remorse and self-loathing, he turned on his heel and sought solace in the numbing embrace of a bottle of whiskey. The nearest bar became his sanctuary, a place where he could drown his sorrows and temporarily escape the consequences of his actions. He slumped onto a barstool, his weary eyes scanning the array of bottles lining the shelves.

As the minutes turned into hours, the world around him became distorted. The sounds of laughter and chatter blended into white noise that didn’t make any sense, and the faces of the patrons merged into indistinguishable shapes. His vision blurred, mirroring the fog that clouded his mind.

Javier's drunken stupor was a feeble attempt to escape the weight of his actions, to find temporary solace in a realm of blurred lines and diminished responsibility. But as the alcohol seeped into his veins, it only served to deepen his self-disgust. The numbness it brought was merely a hollow facade, concealing the pain and regret that gnawed at his core.

As the night wore on and the effects of alcohol began to really make him think shitty ideas were good ones. With the memory of her face —disappointed, angry, teary eyed —front and center in his mind, Javier made a decision.

He needed to see her, even if it meant facing the wrath of her anger and disappointment. It didn't matter that it was late in the night or that his thoughts were still muddled from the alcohol. He couldn't let her think he was this bad man, trying to fuck up everything they were working towards.

And he didn’t want her to hate him. Jesus fucking Christ, Javier didn’t want to go back to her snapping at him every time he spoke. Or glaring at him over her paperwork whenever he asked her questions. He liked whatever they had going on —flirting, banter, whatever it was.

Javier wanted it to keep happening.

Javier just wanted her, however she would take him. And by her reaction tonight, in her car, his whiskey-addled brain saw something that he hadn’t seen before.

Driven by a mix of determination and a glimmer of hope, Javier left the confines of the bar and stumbled through the dimly lit streets. Every step was unsteady, but his movements were fueled by a desperate need to find her and see her again.

Minutes felt like hours as he walked down the streets towards the apartments she lived in. The weight of his actions sat heavily on his shoulders, and while he didn’t regret what he was doing —he needed to at least apologize to her.

Finally, he arrived at her doorstep, his heart pounding in his chest. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself before he knocked on the door. As he waited, he rehearsed the words he wanted to say to her, hoping that they sounded at least somewhat coherent.

There was shuffling from behind her door, and Javier glanced at his watch with a frown —realizing it was well past midnight.

“Shit.”

Panicking, and suddenly feeling far more sober than he was when he was making the walk there, he turned on his heel to walk away. His hands ran through his hair as he started cursing himself for being so fucking stupid.

As Javier turned to leave, his heart pounding in his chest, he heard her voice calling out to him, stopping him in his tracks. He slowly turned back, his eyes meeting hers. She clearly had been woken up by him, her hair braided but messy from sleep.

She stood in her doorway, arms crossed over her chest, in her pajamas. Just a thin tank top that revealed the curve of her shoulders and shorts that showcased her slender legs and a look of confusion and frustration on her pretty face.

Unable to tear his gaze away from her, Javier felt his resolve crumble. The urge to be close to her, to reach out and hold her, consumed him. He took a hesitant step towards her, his heart pounding in his chest. His voice was a mere whisper as he spoke, filled with a mixture of longing and guilt.

She stepped back, frowning. “Are you drunk?”

He stopped short, recognizing her concern. But he nodded slowly, swallowing hard as he did so. “Just, uh. Just a bit, yeah.”

“Go home, Javier.”

“I can’t, cariño,” he admitted, running his hands over his face then up through his hair. “I…I can’t.”

“You can’t or you won’t?”

He considered his options –both, neither. He wasn’t sure why he couldn’t leave (though he definitely couldn’t), but he knew why he wouldn’t.

They stood there in the dimly lit hallway, the weight of their complicated relationship hanging in the air. Javier struggled to find the right words, to express the turmoil churning within him. He was not accustomed to vulnerability, especially not with someone like her. They weren’t friends. They didn’t even like each other most days.

That wasn’t exactly true, though. In recent weeks, they had gotten on better than before. Closer, friendlier. He liked having that in his life, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

“You hate me,” he finally managed to say, leaning against her door frame to look down at her. “And that’s fine. I deserve that.”

Her eyes softened momentarily, a flicker of something that he couldn’t pinpoint flashing over her face. She glanced down either end of the hallway, Javier following her movements, before she pushed her door open fully and motioned for him to come inside. There was clear hesitation on his end, standing stiff there for a moment as he considered what she wanted.

“If you can’t leave, Javier, then you need to come inside before I shut the door in your face.”

Decision made for him, he stepped through into the threshold of her apartment, breath stuck in his throat. As she stepped back into her apartment, shutting and locking the door, the atmosphere shifted from the tension-filled hallway to a space that bore the traces of familiarity and comfort.

He couldn’t help but look around her home –something he truthfully thought he’d never see, because let’s face it: she didn’t want him there. Even if they were friends.

The living area was tastefully decorated, and the walls were adorned with framed photographs capturing cherished memories and moments of laughter. In the corner, a small bookshelf stood on the opposite side of the couch, covered in various books and pieces of her that pulled it all together. The couch was the same couch as his –one provided by the embassy to ensure their agents and workers were at least somewhat comfortable. But throw pillows were stacked haphazardly on each end, with a blanket tossed back as if that was where she was asleep.

It must have been, because the bottle of open wine and empty wine glass sat on her coffee table. Javier stared at it blankly, considering the things he’d done to cause her to want to drink her problems away like he had that night.

She pushed him some, towards the couch, before she yanked the blanket into her arms and sat down. Javier hesitated again –where was the confidence he used to radiate when a woman let him into their home? He should feel cocksure and horny; the one unobtainable woman he’d been pining for since she arrived in Colombia was pushing him onto her couch while she barely wore clothing.

But that wasn’t why he was there. And that wasn’t what she was doing. He wasn’t there to seduce her, or fuck her. He was there to beg for her forgiveness; to have her be his fucking friend again.

"I don’t hate you,” she finally sighed, running her hands over her face. “Not anymore, I mean. I did, at least a couple months ago.”

“What changed that?” He asked, sitting on the edge of the couch, looking down at his hands.

“You finished my notes for me. The ones for Martinez, when we first got set up at the base.”

He blinked a few times, trying to pull up the memory of doing that for her. She never asked him for anything; either out of spite or because she didn’t want to rely on him. But then he nodded some, huffing out a weak laugh as he did.

“You looked like you were going to fall asleep at your desk,” he explained, looking up at her finally. “I just…I felt bad; figured I’d give you a break.”

“That’s when I decided I didn’t actually hate you,” she admitted, pulling her knees up to her chest as she looked at him. “I don’t know if I liked you, per se –that took a little longer to accept; that I liked you. That I thought we were friends –but I didn’t dislike you. And I…still don’t hate you.”

Hearing that she thought they were friends made Javier’s heart absolutely ache. He met her gaze, his eyes filled with a mix of confusion and longing. It was in that moment that he realized his feelings ran deeper than he had ever admitted to himself. She looked at him as a friend, and Javier was suddenly realizing he wanted her more than that.

“Probably should.”

“I should,” she agreed, but then she shrugged some, taking a deep breath as she tried to fight back a yawn. “I don’t though. I’m just…I’m disappointed, Javier. Angry, because now I have to lie to the fucking ambassador of the United States. Risk my job. Pretend that I don’t know you’re actually a moron who makes shitty decisions.”

“You don’t have to do any of that,” he told her, shaking his head. “You should be covering your own ass, not mine. I told Murphy the same thing –,”

“Good to know that Steve is also a fucking idiot –,”

“Listen to me,” he cut off, turning to face her properly, suddenly serious as he stared her down. “If anyone asks –if someone even so much as hints at you knowing whose working with Los Pepes –you fucking tell them the truth. Do you understand me?”

He watched her closely, his heart pounding in his chest as she contemplated his words. Her exhaustion was evident, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for adding to her burden. But he needed her to understand, to protect herself and let go of any association with him. He didn't deserve her loyalty, especially after what he had done.

“I’d be smart to walk away," she began, her voice wavering slightly. "It would be the right thing, the safe thing. Kick you out, call the embassy. But..." She paused, the unspoken words hanging in the air. Her voice dropped to a near-whisper as she continued, "I care about you, for some stupid ass reason. So, maybe I won't tell anyone anything. Maybe I'll protect you."

Her response, however, caught him off guard. Her voice, tinged with weariness and vulnerability, carried a sense of tenderness that he didn't expect. He listened intently, his eyes locked on hers, as she admitted her conflicted feelings. Javier's breath hitched as she revealed her concern; how she felt about him. His heart swelled with a mixture of gratitude, disbelief, and a touch of apprehension. How could she still care after all of this? After everything he’d done to her, how he’d treated her, and what he was putting her through now?

He wanted to reach out, to touch her hand, to thank her for her unexpected act of compassion. But a mix of emotions churned inside him, leaving him at a loss for words. Instead, he simply nodded, his throat tight with a gratitude that was choking him.

In that moment, he knew that her decision carried its own risks. He knew that he didn't deserve her protection or her care. But at the same time, he couldn't deny the warmth that spread through his chest, a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness of what he was doing.

As they sat there, something shifted between the two. There was a thread –a thin, barely there thread that tied them together now. And in that fragile thread, Javier found some sort of comfort.

“I’m going to bed, Javier,” she sighed, standing up from the couch with a yawn. “You can stay here, if you want –on the couch.” The last part was added quickly, as if she wanted to make sure he knew she wasn’t offering up her bed to him in any way.

He shook his head though, standing up as well. She looked up at him, and Javier couldn’t help but notice just how close the two of them were suddenly. They stood just inches apart, tired eyes gazing at one another. His gaze flickered from her eyes to her lips, his heart pounding in his chest, but he looked away quickly.

“I appreciate it, but I should go,” Javier replied, his voice slightly hoarse. He tried to ignore the sudden urge of longing that coursed through him; ignore the desire to bridge the distance between them and pull her into his arms. But he couldn't act on those feelings, not now, not after everything.

She nodded, a flicker of disappointment crossing her face. He could tell she was wrestling with her own conflicting emotions, just as he was. They both knew the boundaries they had set, the unspoken rules that controlled their actions. As they stood there, their gazes locked, Javier's resolve wavered. He wanted to kiss her suddenly. He wanted to taste the sweetness of her lips. He wanted to lose himself in her.

He was about to pull away; leave her alone for the night so they could pretend nothing happened when they got to work later. But then he felt her hand gently cup his cheek. Her touch was soft, her eyes filled with a mixture of exhaustion and a longing of her own. In that moment, she was the one that tore down the boundaries she had put up.

Deciding that he couldn’t take it anymore —gravity was too much and he couldn’t escape the pull of her touch against his skin —he closed the distance between them, taking her face in his hands as he pressed his mouth to hers. Months –he’d spent months wanting to kiss her to shut her up. Use the action to get her to be quiet, to stop scolding him. But now, she wasn’t yelling at him or arguing with him. She was pulling him into her touch, biting at his lip, returning the kiss. Her arms snaked around his neck, pulling herself closer as returned the kiss –biting his bottom lip as she responded with equal fervor. It was unexpected, her immediate response, but Javier wasn’t going to push her away now that he had what he wanted.

Tracing his tongue along the seam of her lip, he coaxed her lips open and licked into her mouth. A quiet whimper escaped her, and Javier swore he could feel it in his very bones as he pushed her back towards the couch again. One of his hands dropped to her hip, holding her against him tight, as the other tangled into her hair. She mimicked his motions, her hand finding its way down his chest to the exposed skin under his collar as the other tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck.

As he pushed her into the couch, refusing to break the kiss, she pulled him down on top of her. He rested on his knees, caging her beneath him as her fingers fumbled over the buttons of his shirt. His hands rested above her head, nipping at her bottom lip again while she finally pushed his shirt open and ran her nails down his chest. He hummed into the kiss, rolling his hips into hers involuntarily before finally breaking away to rest his forehead against hers.

They both breathed heavily, staring at each other with lust blown eyes. Her eyes darted from his face down, then back up at him and Javier wondered, momentarily, what she was thinking. Because all he could think about was slipping his hand under her shirt and feeling her skin against his.

“I can’t just be one of your hook ups,” she whispered, grabbing his wrist to stop him from moving further up. “I won’t be, Javier.”

He stared down at her, catching his breath as he slowly nodded. He understood the weight of her words, the depth of her desire for something more meaningful. He pulled his hand back, trailing his fingers over the skin of her stomach gently until his hand wasn’t under her shirt anymore. Instead, he rested it against the fabric of her top, looking down at her.

“You won’t be,” he assured her, his voice filled with a tenderness that surprised even him. “I…I haven’t — this won’t be —I’ve wanted for months….I want you, cariño.”

She searched his eyes, searching for any sign of deception or doubt, but all she found was a sincerity that mirrored her own. Wanting to find comfort in her touch again, Javier leaned in and pressed his lips to her chin –light, barely there. But enough to cause her to suck in a breath as if he had bit her. His hand slipped back under her stop, grasping at the hem of the thin fabric, so he could pull it up carefully. It was easily pulled over her head and tossed to the floor with his shirt –leaving them both bare from the waist up and pressed against one another.

Her hands, somehow impossibly soft, traced down his arms, nails barely grazing his skin. It was a careful gesture, but it was all he needed to continue. Taking to her wandering hands, Javier wrapped them back around his neck before his hands trailed down her sides until they settled at her waist. She sighed at the touch, tugging him closer to her as he gently clasped her waist, drawing her nearer, their bodies pressed together. His fingers pressed into her skin, no doubt leaving marks where his nails dug in. A gasp escaped her, mingling vulnerability with desire, as his tongue slipped into her mouth again.

Enthusiastically, she pulled him even closer, pressing her body against his like he had dreamed of so many times before. At any moment, he expected to awaken in his bed, painfully alone –painfully hard –left with nothing but fantasies of her consuming his mind. But the feeling of her biting his lip, of her hands fumbling with the button of his jeans reminded him that this was real. She was there, under him, touching him back just as desperately as he was touching her.

“Gonna take care of you, hermosa…,” he whispered, trailing kisses from her mouth down her jaw, to her throat. His hands deftly tugged at her shorts, trying to push them down her hips.

Her hips rose to meet his touch, helping him get rid of the last two pieces of her clothing that kept her from him. Once her shorts were tossed to the growing mess of clothes on her floor, his fingers trailed between her thighs, pressing just barely into her. Her head fell back into the arm of the couch as she whispered his name, as if trying to beg for more. He grinned into the skin of her throat before pressing a kiss there.

“Tell me what you want,” he continued, nipping at her collarbone as his other hand reached up to palm at her breast.

“Take off your pants,” she ordered –though she was breathless and arching into his touch.

Javier chuckled almost darkly into her skin, pinching her nipple as he squeezed her chest. Then he pulled back, sitting up above her. His eyes roamed over her figure hungrily, taking the chance to appreciate each curve of her body as he pushed his jeans and boxers off, kicking them to the side. Most of the women he slept with would try to cover themselves up under his gaze –turn red with sheepish grins. But she just rested her hand behind her head, meeting his eyes for a moment before taking in his naked self as well. Just as hungry for him as he was for her –it made his cock twitch.

“Still so bossy, even when I have you naked under me.”

“Someone needs to make sure you follow directions.”

Her laugh was airy and light, and Javier grinned down at her as he took his cock in his hand, stroking himself slowly. The way she practically glowed under him, radiating something he wanted to bask in forever, made him want her even more. His other hand slipped between her legs again, where he ran his fingers over her clit and through her wet folds. Her eyes closed in response, arching into the touch with a hum, and Javier savored how wet she was for him.

Javier adjusted, half kneeling between her legs and pressed wet kisses over her thighs as he spread her open before him. She gasped at the sensation, thighs instinctively closing around his head but Javier tsk’ed, pushing her legs open to continue peppering kisses along the sensitive skin of her thighs until his nose brushed just barely against her clit. Her reaction was to shoot her hands down and tangle her fingers in his hair, pleading with him to hurry up.

He made a satisfied noise, grinning into the skin of her thighs, before finally giving her what she wanted —what they both wanted —and started to lick and kiss at her clit as if it was the last meal he’d ever eat. She gasped, her legs jerking up only for her heels to rest on his back. The sounds she was making —begging, soft and breathless gasps —egged him on, involuntarily causing him to buck his hips into the couch to relieve his own ache.

“Fuck, Javi,” she moaned, arching up as his tongue delved deep into her core.

Her reaction only spurred him on, replacing his tongue inside her with a finger —then two, with ease. His tongue circled her clit as he pumped his fingers in and out, setting a steady pace as she clenched around him. She was tight, deliciously so, and the thought of her clenching around his cock was driving him wild.

“Come for me,” he whispered against her skin, pulling away from her clit just enough to admire her. Watching her chest heave from her ragged breathing, pretty face contorted by pleasure as his fingers continued to disappear in and out of her —she was close, he could feel it as she yanked his hair harder. “Come for me, hermosa.”

His mouth captured her clit one more time, his fingers curling just enough to hit the sensitive spot inside her. She cried out, squeezing his fingers with her pussy while trying to close her legs around him. But he didn’t let her, free hand holding her leg down as he nipped and licked at her clit, speeding up the thrusts of his fingers inside her.

She cried out suddenly, body trembling, as her orgasm washed over her. He slowed down, but didn’t remove his fingers from her, working her through her climax. She pushed him away from her clit, overstimulated and breathing heavily. He didn’t stay away long before he pulled his fingers from her and replaced them with his tongue once more, lapping up the juices that soaked her pussy.

“Javi,” she gasped, hands shaking as she pried him from between her legs.

She pulled him up by his chin, only able because he let her, and kissed him hungrily. This kiss was sloppier, all teeth and tongues, allowing her to taste herself. Javier groaned into her mouth, pulling himself back onto the couch properly, only to yank her by her hips into his lap. Straddling him now, she looked down at him with hazy, lust filled eyes as she grinded against cock.

He hummed, leaning his head back as his hands slid up her waist, gripping the flesh there tight and guiding her movements as he did so. Her hips rolled against him, coating him in the remnants of her climax, and the head of his cock caught against her clit, causing her to hiss in response. Javier grinned, unable to help himself, as his eyes opened to look up at her again. Releasing his grip on her waist, one hand reached up to the back of her head to bring their mouths together again. His other hand groped her chest, pinching and twisting at her nipples as he bit at her bottom lip.

“Javi, please,” she sighed, breaking the kiss just enough to breathe over his lips. She was reaching between their bodies now to grasp his hard cock in her hands. “I need you, Javi, I need –,”

“What do you need, cariño?” He teased, trying to keep his hips from bucking up into her. “Take what you want, baby. C’mon…”

She nodded frantically, rising up onto her knees above him. Javier’s gaze dropped to her hand around him, where she was guiding his cock into her soaked pussy. As she slowly eased him into her, one of her hands shot up to grip his arm, digging her nails into the skin to distract from the stretch. Javier’s head fell back again as she sunk down on him, his hands dropping to her ass just to hold something. Because if he didn’t –shit, he would lose any semblance of control he had.

Her grip on his arm tightened as their hips met again, sinking him entirely inside her as she tried to adjust to his size. Javier groaned as her walls clenched around him, and his hips involuntarily bucked up –causing her to cry out in surprise and lurch forward, her hands gripping the back of the couch. With her tits in his face, and his hands grasping her ass, Javier was done for –fuck control, he needed to ruin her.

Javier trails his fingers down her arms before wrapping them back around her hips, holding her tight against him as he pistons up into her. She hadn’t been expecting it, a surprised cry leaving her lips as he slapped her ass in the process of fucking her. He pulled her up, and she got the hint as she rose to meet his thrusts, bouncing on his cock to bring herself closer and closer to the edge.

“Been thinking about this since the first time you yelled at me.” He punctuated his last word with a hard thrust up that had the tip of his cock grazing a spot so deep inside her it made her drop her face into his neck, crying out his name.

“Fuck, Javi –you feel so good– Please, God– please, please–” Her words died in her throat when he yanked her down particularly hard, pressing her hips down to meet him and holding her there in slow, hard grind. She let out a choked sob of his name, pussy clenching hard around him and stealing a low moan from the back of his throat.

“Knew you fuckin’ liked me, princesa.”

She moaned again, and Javier jolted up some as he felt her tongue trailing over the vein in his neck and over his jaw. Her mouth was on his again, and he could feel her tightening around him as her wetness started to smear between their bodies. The sound of their skin slapping against skin only urged him forward, each thrust becoming messier and harder. It was almost too much when his one hand dipped between their bodies, fingers fluently toying with her clit.

Between the touch on her clit and the thrusts up into her, Javier could tell she was close and he’d be damned if he came before her. Kissing her harder –all tongue, and teeth, and spit –he sped up his thrusts in time with his fingers on her clit. She bit his lip for a moment before she gasped, closing her eyes tight as her body tensed up under him, only to spasm around him as she came. The only sound she made were airy gasps of his name, begging him to keep going. Javier wasn’t far behind as he thrusted up into her a few more times before his hips stuttered to a stop.

She dropped against him, breathing heavily as she slowly came down from her high. Javier’s hand dropped away from her clit, and while his grip on her hip loosened, he didn’t release her from his hold. Her forehead pressed against his neck, tucked just under his chin as she tried to catch her breath. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a breath himself, as he savored the moment of her skin against his, holding her close to his chest.

Eventually, however, she adjusted and pulled away from him –pulling his softened cock from her with a wince. He stayed there, however, looking over at her through half squinted eyes. She didn’t move far –having simply slid onto the couch to lean down and rifle through their clothes on the floor. When she came back up, she leaned back against the armrest of the couch, skin slick with sweat and glowing from their post-sex haze. In her one hand was a cigarette, that she lit with a lazy grin, before holding it out to him.

Javier watched her for a few moments before he took the cigarette and snuffed it out, pulling her back down the couch by her ankles. She yelped in surprise, but it devolved into a laugh as he leaned over her and grabbed her chin, kissing her lazily. Her arms wrapped around his neck, returning the kiss eagerly. When he pulled back, Javier melodramatically collapsed onto her, laying between her legs with his head on her chest. Her hand ran through his sweat-drenched curls.

“This doesn’t mean you get special treatment at work,” she murmured, and Javier could just hear the grin in her voice.

“Give me a few minutes to recover, and I bet I can change your mind,” he challenged, though he closed his eyes as she ran her hand through his hair.

“You can try to change my mind by staying, and taking me out tonight,” she countered, and Javier chuckled into her skin, nodding.

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere.”

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena x y/n #javier pena fic #javier pena smut #javier pena narcos #narcos #narcos fic

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