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peachsukii · 1 month ago

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— emergency contact

it’s been two years since you’ve seen your ex-boyfriend, and didn’t plan on changing that anytime soon. a nasty villain fight lands you in the hospital during an overnight patrol and leaves you unable to tell the doctors who to call in your dazed state.

✮ content. late 20s. ex-boyfriend bakugo, hospitalization, sappy confessions & second chances. distance makes the heart grow fonder kind of deal.

『 #reis softie sundays 』

Sharp, shooting pain down your back and a desperate cry from your partner ⎯ that was the only thing you remember from the last…four hours? Time is becoming illusive at this point, blending together with how fast everything unraveled around you.

Were you injured on patrol? Did that villain slip through your fingers and escape? Where was your partner in all this chaos?

“Doctor, she’s waking up,” you hear in the distance, muffled but clear enough to understand. A nurse walks into your blurred vision, a soft smile on her lips. “Hi hon, you’re in the hospital. We’re taking you to your room now, hang tight.”

All you can manage to do is nod in acknowledgement, the world spinning on its axis and making you extremely dizzy. Your eyes fall closed, a hazy sleep welcoming you in seconds.

When you wake next, you're not quite sure how much time has passed. The room sits in darkness, the only sources of light coming from the moon outside the window and the various machines chirping around you. There's a static in your head, as if you're stuck on a radio frequency that hasn't been adjusted to the correct channel. Even with all the noise in your head, a familiar voice can be heard outside in the hallway, one you'd never mistake for anyone else.

"It's late," a nurse says, presumably trying to convince him to go home. "Are you sure you want to stay? We can try her other contacts again in a few hours."

"M'sure. Do I need'ta sign in or whatever?"

"No, that's alright. I'll notate it on her chart and let the front desk know. I'll be back in a bit and we can talk more about treatment."

The door slides open to prove you're not imagining things ⎯ your ex isn't a manifestation of your delirious state. Bakugo's standing in the dim light of the hallway, tip toeing inside and shutting the door as quietly as possible. When his eyes fall upon your hospital bed, he notices that you're awake and sighs. "Been awhile."

You don't have the energy to do this dance with him, to go back and forth with lightheartedness like old times. "Why are you here?"

His lips press into a straight line, jaw clenched tight as he seems to silently ask himself the same question. He makes his way over to the bed, taking a seat at the edge by your feet. "I'm still one of your emergency contacts in your hero file."

Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. There's no way you haven't updated your database profile in two years...right? Bakugo catches onto your confusion and explains before you have a chance to press him further on the matter. "M'the only one who answered."

What time was it, anyways? Your eyes bounce around the room swiftly to find a wall clock. You squint a bit to read it, finally making out the numbers. 4:30...am?

"What did they call you for?" you yawn, rubbing the exhaustion out of your eyes. "I don't even know what happened."

He takes a deep breath as a large hand finds your thigh, resting atop the thin blanket. His touch makes you want to melt into a puddle, memories of your past relationship coming back in waves.

"They didn't tell me much, only that it was life or death. Thankfully, your ass chose life." He shakes his head, a quiet huff escaping him. "Somethin' about a villain's poison quirk. Ya got hit in the spine and it paralyzed you temporarily, an' you fell from someplace high up. Your partner caught ya and the paramedics got to you just in time."

Oh. Well, that explains the pain from earlier.

"But why did you answer their call, Baku⎯" you cut yourself off to correct his name as it leaves your lips. "Katsuki?"

"I'm not heartless, just 'cause we haven't talked in ages doesn't mean I don't care about ya."

You shift in your bed a bit, eyes gravitating toward the window to avoid his gaze. Truth be told, you two ended on decent terms and not maliciously. Wrong place, wrong time...at least, that's what you two chalked it up to. You were both too busy with hero work, too absent from each other's lives to properly be a couple. After a year, you convinced yourself that you were satisfied watching him from afar, catching brief glimpses of his life through interviews and news reports. That was your excuse, a cowardly way to keep him out of reach and prevent you, and him, from getting distracted.

"Hey." Bakugo's fingers squeeze your thigh to recollect your attention, the blanket crumpling under his palm. You're terrified to look at him, knowing full well that in your battered state, you'll crumble like stone if he says anything remotely sweet. Those vermillion eyes of his always had a way of making you weak ⎯ soft. "I was thinkin' on my way over here that I should'a called ya, reached out to keep in touch. M'sorry for not doin' that."

"It's...fine," you stammer out, a shaky hand coming up to wave off his concern. "We don't have to talk about that now."

"I don't wanna only talk to you when you're hurt, or worse..." he trails off, screwing his eyes shut to avoid the dread lingering in his chest. "Look. What m'gettin' at is you scared the shit outta me, and it made me realize that I've got a lot to say after all these years."

Oh boy, you brace yourself for impact, expecting the explosive nature to come pouring out any second. But, it never comes.

Before you could stop him, Bakugo's on his feet and leaning over the bed, arms slung around your shoulders to pull you close. A strange but familiar veil of comfort drapes over you in the moment, pulling on your heartstrings. Your eyes begin to sting when the words he whispers finally reach your ears. "M'done usin' hero work as an excuse to avoid you. I wanna talk this shit out...when you're ready. I'd love to make ya dinner again."

You can't help but let out a breathless laugh, arms finally coming up to return his hug. "Only if you promise to make your special katsudon. I've been craving it for weeks."

He chuckles over your shoulder, squeezing you a bit tighter in response. "Deal."

Who knew that a villain was what you two needed to face your fears, to finally admit that the spark was never smothered into nothingness. And this time, something tells you that you'll both make damn sure it stays ablaze.

happy softie sunday!! I know it's been awhile since I've written one. hope you don't mind some baku-sap :)

✮ network. @pixelcafe-network

✮ tags. @slayfics @maddietries @starieqq

@liluvtojineteyam @jays-adventure3 @simp-plague

@napbatata @Yoyolovesdaiki @kirishimaeijiromyman

@strwbrrykthv @awkwardchick87 @stunies @sakufilm

#reis softie sundays #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #soft bakugou #bakugo fluff #mha x reader #bnha x reader #my hero academia fluff

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reiderwriter · 10 months ago

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505

Week Four of my yearly playlist challenge!

Summary: When you fall asleep on the overnight drive between one case and the next, Spencer gets awfully distracted by your sleep talking.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI Partial Spencer POV, dom!Spencer, brat!Reader, pain play (scratching, choking, spanking, etc), degradation (use of whore, slut), masturbation (m and f), orgasm denial, breeding kink, creampie, cockwarming.

A/N; Thank you to the Arctic Monkeys for fuelling my delusions and for gif makers everywhere for their services to horniness. This was the first playlist fic chosen from a recommended song, so if you enjoyed it, don't forget to send me more song recommendations for the playlist!~

Masterlist || Playlist

Spencer was never the most confident driver in the BAU, but between the two of you, he was the only one who possessed a licence.

Which is how he found himself driving through the night with you asleep in his passenger seat, trying not to be distracted by the small whimpers and sighs dropping from your mouth.

You'd been sent across state lines to investigate a recent homicide that may have been linked with your current case, and now that you'd deemed it relevant to your case, you were driving back to the rest of the team with all the documents you needed in tow.

He'd been happy to drive when you left, with the sky black and the air cold, knowing that the country roads that would lead you just over the border would be practically empty. He'd even been content to let you sleep the majority of the journey, having noticed how little sleep you'd managed to get so far on this case.

He'd been happy until your lips parted and you'd whispered his name in a moan.

He'd thought you were awake at that moment and assumed you were about to ask where you were or what time it was. But you hadn't opened your eyes, and your breaths were still even and steady.

You did it again five minutes later, and the gentle sound hit the hairs on the back of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine that settled comfortably in his now tight pants.

‘Shit,’ he thought, sparing a glance at you whilst keeping his hands comfortable at 10 and 2, his posture rigid as he willed other parts of his body to relax.

Your legs had splayed open, your hand having fallen unconsciously between them for some kind of relief. He didn't let his thoughts linger where his eyes had fallen.

He tried to convince himself that you were just dreaming about a case. Maybe he'd been shot in your dream, and you'd felt sad. Maybe your moans were ones of sorrow.

“Spencer, fuck…”

Maybe he was going to hell for the thoughts flooding his brain because he wanted nothing more than to slide a hand into your pants and start giving you the relief you so blatantly begged for.

He settled for turning into the next motel he saw advertised on the road. Hotch had told them, of course, that they could rest up for the night if needed, but he'd been too eager to get on the road while it was clear. But with his mind fogged with less than ideal thoughts, and your obviously aching body moaning beside him, a motel honestly couldn't hurt.

You woke up slowly as he parked the car, the lack of motion wearily drawing you from your dream. He looked across at you and let out a sigh of relief to see you conscious.

He'd been willing to carry you to whatever room you'd get, but he didn't know whether his hands would linger over your body. Wouldn't know if he'd be able to retract his hands at all if you reacted like that in your sleep.

Now you were awake and looking at him, talking to him even, but all he could think about was whether you'd react better to his touch when awake. How could he get you to moan his name again, and how loud would you dare do it?

“Spence? Hello, are you listening?”

“What?”

“Okay, I'm glad you pulled off the road if you're so tired you're not even hearing me speak,” you laughed a little, and the sound shot straight to his cock.

Your voice was thick with sleep, and the phantom of his name hung on your lips, having been the last words to drop from your tongue. He usually had better control of himself.

“Yeah, let's go get some sleep. You sounded pretty tired, too.”

“Sounded?” You asked, and he watched your face warp in gentle confusion. He bit his tongue, trying to retract the statement, choosing the cold, biting winter air over the sight of you with a pout on your lips.

His brain was addled with thoughts of those two plump cushions pouting around his cock as he held your hair back and- and yes, the cold air was definitely necessary.

“You stretch your legs, I'll go organise the room,” you said, climbing out of your side of the car. He nodded along, not trusting his voice not to break like a prepubescent boy and turning his back to you, not trusting his eyes to linger awkwardly on your ass.

It seemed like seconds, and then you were back leading him to the rooms you'd booked.

When you unlocked only one door, with only one key, however, Spencer found all the progress of the last few minutes squashed immediately.

“We're sharing?” He hung around the door, not sure whether to step inside or just resign himself to sleeping in the car. He made a mental note to grab some tissues before heading back out to the car if this conversation ended the way he thought it would.

“Yeah, they only had one room cleaned and ready right now. It's fine, right? We've shared rooms on cases before.”

You’d shared rooms on cases before, but never after he'd driven for nearly a half hour listening to you moan his name. He'd usually been too exhausted after full days of work and had regrettably fallen asleep first each time you'd been roommates.

“Yeah, it's cool.” He cleared his throat, trying to make the octave jump his voice had just made it seem like a symptom of some kind of sickness he was coming down with.

“Great, let me just go shower quickly, and then we can get into bed.”

Warnings signals rang throughout his head, but he still sat patiently listening to the water running in the shitty motel bathroom. Grabbing his go bag, he readied himself for sleep, trying to ignore the fact that you were hot and wet and naked just a wall away and that he could hear everything.

Every sigh you released, every trickle of water running across your skin. Every mumble of his name.

Again, he thought he'd imagined it, but now he was sure you were torturing him.

Your gasps of air were less innocent than they were four minutes ago, chest having faster and faster, and he thought it was clear that your hand covered your mouth to make you less audible. He didn't know what you were doing, but it didn't matter much to his cock, which had stiffened painfully once again. Unconsciously, his hand reached for it, needing to give himself some release. He'd already pulled off his slacks and put on his baggier sleep pants, which did nothing to hide his affliction.

Instead, it was somehow more obvious, painfully so. And his hand was pawing at it through the thin material, chasing that high that you yourself were likely close to in the bathroom.

It was only when the shower shut off once more that he realised how fogged his brain had been. His cock throbbed in his hand, and it certainly wasn't going down anytime soon, and you'd be out of the bathroom in minutes if not seconds.

With no other choice, he dived under the bed sheets and pulled them up across his chest, too, and began to pretend to sleep.

When the light spilt from the bathroom, he screwed his eyes shut tighter, even as his brain willed him to sneak a look at you.

But he held firm, telling himself that he just needed to wait for you to fall asleep and then he'd relieve himself.

At least those were his plans until he felt the dip in the bed, the movement of his sheets, and the warmth spreading across the bed from you to him.

You'd climbed into bed right next to him. Your ass was mere centimetres away from his crotch, and he shuddered in pleasure. Shuddered.

He tried to keep his breathing still, even, and he really thought after a few minutes that you too had fallen asleep. It was all but impossible as your body cuddled in closer to his and he found your ass pressed comfortably against his straining cock.

“Y/N, you need to move,” he warned, breath shooting out of him as he resisted digging his hands into your breasts and holding you tight so you couldn't move.

“I don't want to,” you replied sleepily, either not noticing the danger you were in or not caring.

His hands rested on your hips, trying to press you just slightly away so his own hips could scoot back, but you clung to his heat.

“It's cold in here, Spencer, and you're like a furnace right now.” With those pouty words, you turned your body around and wrapped your hips up and around his body. He scooted back as you did, though, just an inch too far, and instead of landing softly against his chest, the two of you landed in a tangled mess on the floor.

“Spencer,” you moaned again, this time in shock, as you perhaps finally felt his aching length poking the inside of your thigh.

He'd dampened your fall on the way down, clasping you to him as he flailed in the air for a few seconds, bringing his downfall on faster with your ass cupped in his palms.

“Fuck, Spencer, you're so hard.” His dick twitched at the sound of your tired voice pressed against his ear.

You pulled away slowly, head peeking down between you, trying to catch a glimpse of his still hardening cock between the two of you.

“Don't look, it'll get harder,” he grunted, grasping your hips harder and trying to catch your attention again. But that just had you grinding down into his hips again, and your mouth widened in that perfect ‘o’ as you felt the desperation and need drip from him.

“Spencer,” you said, hips reacting slowly at first as they kept up the small movements of pressing down on him and lifting your hips slightly to do so again.

You were grinding your cunt into his hard cock, pinning him to the ground and using his body to get yourself off.

It was the most deliriously arousing thing he'd ever born witness to.

“Y/N, stop it before you regret it.” His tone was a warning, but his words came out at barely a whisper. You didn't even bother with a reply.

“Y/N, please I mean it-”

“Spencer, fuck-” you moaned for the last time before he pushed you to the ground and pressed his lips against yours.

He'd hit his limit, and now he was going to reach his reward.

He ran his hands up to the waistband of your sleep shorts and quickly tugged them down, lips not leaving yours as he forced his tongue into your mouth. Your moans were throaty now, and they were loud, your brain so delirious with just you'd completely bypassed any shy feelings.

After making quick work of your pants, he grabbed your hand in his and moved it over his throbbing cock, showing you what it was you needed from him.

“Stroke it.”

You did. Sliding a hand into his pants, you gripped him firmly in your hand and gently ran your fingers up and down his tip, more teasing than anything solid.

Spencer didn't complain, though, knowing he wouldn't last that long if you took your job as seriously as he was about to take his.

“Spread your legs. Now.”

You weren't sure what it was about his tone, but you complied easily. His fingers reached out, and he almost sent up a prayer as his fingers came into contact with your wet, heat. You were so aroused.

“Did you dream about me? Earlier in the car?” He questioned, two fingers slipping easily inside your pussy as his thumb traced your clit.

“Y-Yes.”

“Did you think about me in the shower?”

“Spencer, I can expl-”

“Answer me. Please.”

“Yes.”

“You were touching yourself thinking about me, knowing I could hear just how much of a slut you were through these walls. You wanted this, Y/N.”

He increased his pace as your eyes clouded over, your already sleepy countenance looking decidedly more ready for release and rest.

But he wasn't in a giving mood.

“What an impolite little whore,” he whispered in your ear, withdrawing his hands completely and picking himself up from the floor.

Your eyes shot open in confusion and pain as he sat himself on the edge of the bed. You watched his movements, saw him pull his still erect cock from his pants and begin stroking himself, and quickly organised your limps into a kneeling position by his feet.

He watched you closely as you let your head fall onto his thigh, your eyes following each pump of his hand up and down, and up and down.

“Spencer, please fuck me,” you pleaded with him, trying to resist the temptation to wrap your legs around his and hump his leg like a real bitch in heat. Though he'd probably greatly enjoy the view.

“Why should I?”

“Because if you don't, I'm going to sit here and finger myself until I pass out from exhaustion. And then I'm going to request a room with you on every other case this year and do it all over again.”

“You're manipulative, you know that?”

“I just know what I want, Spencer.”

“Then come and take it.”

Though he told you to come to him, it was his hand on your neck that guided you to your place in his lap.

It was his hand on his cock that lined himself up with your cunt. It was his hips that snapped up into yours as he finally took you.

But it was your lips that screamed his name as he fucked you roughly.

Each thrust was most intense than the last, deeper, harder, faster.

You clawed at his hair, you bit his bottom lip when your mouths Mey again. You clawed your nails across his shoulders and back.

He pressed you back into the mattress, and you wrapped your legs around him one more time, urging him to stay right there for the rest of the night.

His hands found your breasts, and he grabbed them again, roughly.

It was finally too much, and, as he pinched down on your nipple hard to see that beautiful mix of pleasure and pain one more time, you came around his cock, heat spreading out of you in waves as your thighs twitched under the weight of sheathing him.

“I'm going to cum, Y/N, I'm going to cum,” he dragged his teeth across your neck, whispering the words like a prayer.

You couldn't reply, mouth so heavy with lust your tongue couldn't move if his wasn't forcing it.

“I'm going to cum inside you,” he whispered again, his voice a growl of pleasure as your eyes shot open again.

All you could do was moan his name as he painted your cunt white, pressing his entire weight down on you without a care in the world.

You remained locked in that embrace for a long moment, your body tired and brain similarly diminished. Trusting him to take care of things, you let your eyes droop closed and let sleep consume you.

Your last thought was on his weight still pressed into yours, and the fact that he was still yet to pull out of you and spill his well-placed seed.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #mgg #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x y/n

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parfaitblogs · 3 months ago

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daylight ❀ s. reid x reader

in which communicating with your boyfriend is scary, and spencer reid can't stand to see you cry.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: comfort/fluff! tags: reader avoids her issues... for a little bit. that's kind of it. it's just fluffy and simple! word count: 1.5k a/n: something short & sweet because i thought it was cute and i write the most when i'm procrastinating assignments... um… inspired by a conversation sam willow and i were having a few nights ago🫂 reminder that pretty girls cry when they’re confronting somebody!!

Spencer Reid was not oblivious to all things in the world. In fact, he was rather perceptive compared to most people. Psychology degree and human behaviour-based job aside, he noticed things.

A lot of it was good. He knew exactly how to wake you up on mornings he started earlier than you. How to keep you half-asleep enough to allow you your return to sleep, but also awake enough to ensure you'd remember him kissing you goodbye (there had been an argument a few months ago about it — you thought he had left without a word). He knew your go-to Thai order from the restaurant down the street, and he knew which pair of wooden chopsticks your favourite were to pull out of his kitchen drawers.

He was also observant enough to know something was wrong.

He was back from a case. A long one, that had worn him down enough that he felt like a pile of creaking bones when he re-entered his apartment earlier that afternoon. You had returned from your own job an hour after that, and despite the initial excitement that came from your boyfriend being back in the state again, you were a bundle of nerves.

And he knew that.

You were on his couch, legs across his lap and back up against the arm, his hands resting comfortable in the dip between your two knees. There was a quiet episode of New Girl playing on the television (you had convinced him to watch it after he had sat you through every Star Trek movie), but your thoughts were anywhere but the sitcom you had been using to entertain yourself as of recent.

"You've been awfully quiet," Spencer said, piercing the less than comfortable air settled around you two.

"Sorry," you answered, tearing your gaze from the screen to look at him, meeting a worried expression you had somewhat expected.

Hands ran up and down your legs, erupting goosebumps along the skin. "Is something wrong?"

"No," you immediately shook your head and forced a smile onto your face. "Nothing's wrong."

He furrowed his eyebrows, lips parting in that confused look he always had on his face when he was thinking, and he stared at you for a few seconds longer, before, "Yes there is."

Profilers. "Seriously, Spence. There isn't. I'm just kind of tired tonight."

"I am as well," he said, hands stilling on your legs rather abruptly. "I was in Idaho for a week. I'm also exhausted. And usually my girlfriend is a little touchier and more talkative than this when I come home. So I'm assuming something's wrong."

"You're assuming incorrectly, then," your shoulders shrugged.

He said your name chidingly, and it was at that tone of voice that you retracted your legs from his lap, instead tucking your feet beneath yourself, gaze dropping to the couch cushion.

"I just missed you," you told him, a slight stretch of the truth.

"I missed you too," he said, and your shoulders softened. "But that's not all it is."

You blinked, before you fell silent, shaking your head instead.

"Talk to me. What's happened?" his voice was achingly soft, your heart shattering in your chest to the point you wanted to take back every thought you'd had over the past week and burn them to ashes. They didn't mean much now in front of him. Not when he was reminding you of how kind he was.

"You barely talked to me," you said, hands dropping to your lap, and you fidgeted with them under his gaze. "I never knew what was going on. You didn't call once, except for when you landed."

"I was really busy, honey," he answered, and you could hear the frown in his voice. "If I had time to do anything other than the case and sleep, you know I'd have talked to you more."

"I know," your voice shook, and you could feel your emotions overriding your brain. As usual. So, you kept your head down. "But I would've liked you to tell me that, at least."

You heard him sigh, and curiosity got the best of you as you lifted your gaze, inspecting to see if he was sighing out of irritation or not. He wasn't — just exhaustion — and that made you feel a little better.

"I know for next time then," he said, and he met your eyes, which had watered since the last time he looked at you. Which wasn't very long ago, and so he was drawing his eyebrows together, again, confusedly. "What's that? What's wrong?"

On instinct he leaned forwards, and you let him shift his body closer to yours, hands coming up on either side of your neck. You sniffled, trying to suck the tears threatening to fall back into your eye sockets.

"I can't communicate," you mumbled, quietly, a tear escaping and dripping down to the lower half of your cheek.

"You communicated pretty well just then, angel," he said, voice soft as he caught the remainder of the tear and swiped it away with his thumb.

"Yeah but—but now I'm crying," you moaned, pathetically, more tears slipping down your face. His lips twitched — though not in humour, you noted — as he adjusted his hands to your jaw, thumbs continuing to wipe falling tears.

"Yeah. That's okay," he answered. "You've got a flood of hormones going through you right now, and so your body reacts to it in the best way it sees fit. In your case, it's tears."

"I hate it," you mumbled, and this time he did laugh a little, nodding his head.

"I know," he said. "Are you feeling embarrassed about communicating with me?"

"I guess," you replied. "I don't know. I think I just..." you trailed off as your voice disappeared, breath beginning to hyperventilate acutely. "I—I just feel kind of sil—silly."

You cursed each sob that broke up your speech, and yet his gaze and focus on you never once wavered. In fact, his touch seemingly had grown softer, and the concern in his eyes had only grown.

"You aren't silly," he said, once he was sure you weren't going to continue speaking. "If me not talking to you for a week upset you, I'd say that's pretty reasonable."

"I don't know..."

"Want a secret?" he asked, fingers poking into your cheeks enough for you to crack a small smile. You only nodded your head in response, chest still jolting with each sharp intake of breath. "I have to physically restrain myself from calling you every hour on a normal day."

"You're lying," you mumbled, and his smile only widened, a bashful laugh leaving his lips.

"No, honestly. I have so much I want to talk to you about during the day, and I need to remind myself that you're busy and at work too."

A few uncontrollable tears dripped down your face, and your gaze dropped to the top of his shirt, though the smile never left your face. "I don't believe you."

"I wish you would, but that's okay," he said, evidently seeing right through your defying statement — you believed him a little.

His forefinger and thumb caught your chin, and he tilted your head back up so his eyes could meet your glassy ones.

"I'm sorry," you murmured, before he could get a word in.

"For what?"

"Crying."

"Do you take in anything I say to you?" he chastised, though the smile on his face eliminated any fear of him being genuinely irritated, and so your shoulders simply shrugged.

"Sometimes," you said, and his eyebrows shot up.

"Sometimes?" he repeated back to you, and you had to bite your lip to keep the amused expression off your face. He was smiling back at you, before his face settled into something more serious, as he continued, "I don't mind you crying, angel. It breaks my heart to see it, but I'm not sitting here and judging you for it. You know that, right?"

"Yeah."

"Good," he finalised with a short nod, and you sniffled with a nod of your own.

"I mean, technically, crying is good," you said, tongue poking between your teeth as you forced back a smile.

"Yeah? Why's that?"

"Releases endorphins and oxytocin."

He huffed a single laugh through his nose, nodding his head. "Yes. It does."

"I know things," you grinned.

"You do," he agreed with a nod. "My smart girl."

"Yeah. Don't ever forget it."

"I could never," he replied, and a comfortable silence enveloped your two bodies, your heart fluttering in your chest.

"Can you tell me about Idaho?" you finally asked him.

"You really want to know?"

You nodded your head, and he sighed, but complied regardless. And you eventually found your head in his lap, staring up at him as one hand danced gently over the skin of your slightly exposed stomach, the other entangled in your hair, brushing through it.

And he told you about the case he had been away on — it became glaringly obvious behind why he hadn't called or messaged you at all — and consequently eased any other remaining worries behind it.

And it dried your tears up.

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

#lia’s fics ♡#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid comfort #spencer reid hurt/comfort

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judyvan · 3 months ago

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Keep It Down - Matt Sturniolo Fanfic

｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Summary: You desperately want Matt, but his brothers are in the house. Will you be able to contain yourself to avoid the awkwardness?

Warnings: MDNI/ smut/ mattxfem!reader/ p n v/ soft dom!matt/ bf!matt/ hair pulling/ begging/ daddy kink/ mouth play/ vulnerabiliy/ use of "you"

A/N: This is my first fanfic. Interactions are appreciated. There are multiple parts to this story, this is the second one. The song very loosely relates to the storyline. Please don't steal my shit. Thanks!💋

To read the first part (Movie Night) click here.

To read the last part (The Morning After) click here.

｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Matt hands you one of his t-shirts and grabs some pajama pants for himself. You head to the bathroom to change and do your nightly duties. Upon returning to Matt's room, he leaves to do the same. When he comes back in, you can't help but stare. He's wearing the pjs that he picked out and his chain rests flatly on his bare chest. You've seen him like this so many times, but you can't take your eyes off of him. Just the sight of him makes your insides fill with desire.

He walks over, crawls into bed next to you, and resumes the movie that you guys were watching downstairs. Matt's arms wrap around you, pulling you into him. Your head is now resting on his chest, and you can feel his heart beating. The smell of his cologne and the feeling of your face on his skin starts to make your head spin. You push off of his chest and give him a soft, sweet kiss. Matt cups your face with one hand, wrapping his other around your waist, as he kisses you back. As per usual, neither one of you can stop with just one. His taste is intoxicating, his touch is tender, and your heart begins to beat out of your chest. You slowly slide your leg up over top of his while his hand slightly veers from your cheek to the side of your neck. His thumb and pointer finger rest on the outline of your jaw, the rest of his large hand covers your throat. He holds your face in place as he kisses you more passionately. Your stomach flips and you begin to feel a pulse in-between your legs. Next thing you know, you're straddling Matt and his tongue slips in your mouth, launching your make-out session.

The feeling of wetness in your panties and the aching at the center of your thighs controls your every move. You begin to grind on the stiffness in Matt's pants, desperately searching for friction. Matt's breath hitches and your kisses become more and more hungry. As your lips collide, you gently tug on Matt's bottom lip with your teeth, hinting to him that you want more.

"We can't do that, and you know it," Matt says panting, his lips swollen.

You let out a desperate whimper, continuing to grind on him. "Matt, please," you beg. "I want you so bad."

"Baby, I know. I want you right now too, but Nick and Chris are still awake. They'll hear us." Matt empathetically pulls your head towards his, leaving a gentle peck on your neck. He then whispers in your ear, "Listen. Whenever they leave tomorrow, we'll make an excuse to stay here. Then we can be as loud as we want."

You straighten your posture on top of him. "Yeah, that's a great plan! I'm all for it. But I think we should also do it tonight." You smile cheekily at him despite the intense throbbing that you're feeling in areas downstairs, coming from both you and Matt.

Matt lets out a soft laugh. He brings his hands up to your thighs, making circling motions with his thumbs. "We can't. I'm sorry."

You let out a whine placing your forehead against his. "Mattttt! Pleaseeeeuh! I'll be quiet I promise."

"You know what? Fine. Fine, let's do it. But I swear if you are too loud and they start some shit, I'm telling them it was your idea." Matt says laughing.

"Wow! I thought that was going to take a lot more convincing."

You laugh as you dip your head down into the crook of his neck biting him lightly and kissing him sloppily. Matt lets out a groan as you continue to devour him. You veer away from his neck, continuing to pepper kisses down his chest and stomach. With every kiss, you feel Matt tense slightly under your lips as he releases soft moans. Right as you reach Matt's happy trail, you feel him sit up, grabbing your face and pressing an eager kiss to your mouth.

"Your turn," he says. In a swift motion, Matt trades you places, flipping you over. He begins to plant kisses on your neck, everywhere he touches being left ablaze.

Typical Matt. Missionary Matt. Soft moans escape your lips as you become more and more desperate. It's not just a want, it's a need. Matt pulls his shirt off of you. He takes a second to admire you laying in his bed wearing only your panties.

"I'll never get tired of looking at you. Especially like this."

You help him slip out of his pj pants and immediately, he's back on top of you. His lips gradually travel from the top of your throat to the waistband of your underwear, leaving you tingling all over. "God. You're already so wet," he says seeing your panties almost completely saturated with need.

Matt leans over top of you, reaching in his nightstand to grab a condom. As he does so, he places his knee in between your legs, putting slight pressure on your swollen clit. He knows what he's doing. You bite your bottom lip to suppress a moan. You don't want it to stop before it even starts. Holding the protection between his teeth, Matt removes his boxers. Your eyes widen in awe as you examine the length of him. It's something that'll never stop surprising you. You lift up your hips as Matt removes the only thing you have on. Opening the wrapper with his teeth, Matt slides the rubber onto his dick, throwing the trash in the floor.

"I'm going to go slow and easy. If you can take it and stay quiet, I'll give you more."

Lining himself up with your entrance, Matt pushes into you slowly, slightly struggling from the size of himself even though you're practically dripping. You both gasp at the same time, your needs starting to be fulfilled. Your walls stretch and then squeeze around him as he slides in and out of you with slow, deep thrusts, only giving you half of his length. You press your lips together to keep your sounds of pleasure silent. Matt groans lowly trying to please you both, as much as possible as quietly as possible.

"You feel so good inside of me," you muster to him, trying your hardest to convince him that you can take more.

"You're doing so good," Matt whispers surprised at how quiet you're staying. With each thrust he slowly starts to give you more of his length.

"Matt, I need more. Please give me more" you plea, desperately wanting him to go harder, deeper, and faster.

"Are you sure you want to? Do you think you can take it?" he asks, keeping his rhythm consistent.

"Yes. I'll stay quiet. I promise," you respond.

Matt pulls out of you and drags you to the side of his bed, letting your legs dangle off the side. He reaches over top of you to grab a pillow. You lift up slightly as Matt slides the pillow under your hips, giving him more access to go deeper. After pumping himself a few times, he inserts himself back into you, his movement quicker and harder than before. You let out a low moan as quietly as you can. Matt places his hands on your stomach, pushing down firmly. He knows this is your favorite because it allows you to really feel him, every last inch. The cool touch of his metal rings covers you with goosebumps. You start to whimper. As he begins to buck his hips into you, faster and with more force than before, you feel him repeatedly slam into your g-spot. Your soft pants increase in volume. Matt leans forward to kiss you, trying to keep you silent. He picks up his pace slightly and applies more pressure to your belly. Every returned kiss becomes a struggle. You need to cry out desperately, no longer being able to contain yourself. You bite Matt’s shoulder attempting to maintain composure. A series of moans escape your lips, each one growing louder. Matt’s eyes snap directly to yours, knowing you're getting too noisy.

“Stay quiet for me,” Matt says through his own low moans. You bite your bottom lip, doing everything in your power to suppress your noises, your pleasure building. Loud whines leave your mouth. Matt removes his hands from your stomach, placing one on the bed and the other one your mouth. “Keep it down,” he says speeding up his pace even more.

The tension builds in your stomach. You’re almost there! “Yes Matt!” you cry out, his hand barely muffling your screams, failing to keep your act discrete. There was nothing quiet about the high-pitched shriek that you let out. Matt rips himself out of you with no warning, leaving you feeling suddenly empty and hurt. Your body is still aching for him.

"I told you to be fucking quiet. Now roll over." he spits at you walking over to his side of the bed.

You curl up in the fetal position facing away from Matt, not wanting him to see the tears of shame, frustration, and pure sadness filling your eyes. He has always been the sweetest boyfriend. You never thought that being too loud while he pleases you would make him so angry. He was so angry to the point that he was going to leave you both there unsatisfied, never getting your release. As Matt gets on the bed himself, you feel your throat burn as you try to hold back your tears.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he says his tone now aggressive. You feel his hand slide around your waist. He pulls you towards him and lifts you up, leaving you on all fours. "I'm not fucking done with you." He glides his hands up and over your ass. "Now, arch your back."

You do as he says. You were slightly put off earlier, but his aggressiveness turned you right back on. His massive hands continue to move from your lower back to the middle of your back, pushing you into the mattress. The side of your face pressed against the pillow, your stomach completely flat on the bed, your ass propped up in the air. He thrusts himself into you roughly, forcing your mouth to fall open and your arch to deepen.

"Since you want to be so fucking loud, I'm going to fuck the shit out of you. Give you somethin’ to scream about." Him and his Mattitude. He starts to buck into you hard, deep, and fast, proceeding to do just what he said he was going to do. You let out a shriek, gripping onto the sheets tightly, needing something to hold onto. Your mouth finds the pillow case and bites down hard.

"No! Get that shit out of your fucking mouth," he says speeding up his pace. "Let me hear you fucking scream."

You let out pornographic moans, your mind now clouded with how fucking good he's making you feel.

"Oh Matt! Yes!"

He slows his pace down, wanting to prolong both of your orgasms. If he keeps doing what he's doing, neither one of you will last long. His right hand leaves your back, and his two middle fingers enter your mouth. He begins thrusting his fingers down your throat at the same time as his dick is pushing into you.

"Now, if you can't stay quiet next time, I'm going to fuck this pretty little mouth of yours," he says in a cocky tone. He slowly pulls his fingers out of your mouth, you suck on them as he does. "Do you understand?" he asks.

"Yes, Matt," you quietly whimper, breathless. You're trying your best to answer him, but he is quite literally fucking you senseless. Suddenly, you feel Matt wrap the length of your hair around his hand. Roughly, he pulls your head back towards him, forcing you to cry out.

"I'm sorry. What was that? I couldn't fuckin’ hear you," he responds. His other hand drifts from your hips, meets his tongue, and finds its way to your most sensitive spot. He begins to rub small circles around your bundle of nerves.

"Yes Daddy!" you scream, a jolt running through your body.

"That's what I like to hear," Matt says groaning loudly. He releases his hand from your hair and pushes you into the bed again.

After stabilizing himself on your back Matt begins to pound into you, fucking you as hard as he can. As his pace speeds up, so does the movement of his fingers on your clit. Your stomach clenches telling you that you're about to finish.

"Matt," you pant, "I'm gonna…," a loud moan finishes your sentence.

"Me too," he replies out of breath, "Give it to me. I wanna hear you scream."

Your muscles contract as you have the most intense orgasm you've ever had, your whole body left shaking. Matt cums with you. He continues to buck into you a few more times as you both ride out your high. Matt's moans fill your head. The sound of Matt bouncing off of your ass shakes the room. Your shouts ricochet throughout the house. There is absolutely nothing quiet about this. The both of you then collapse and catch your breath, the room now painfully quiet. Eventually, Matt pulls out of you and he gets up to dispose of the condom. He uses his shirt that you were wearing earlier to clean you up. Your trembling body was not in the state to move. He grabs a new shirt for you out of his drawer and dresses you gently, the complete opposite of how he was just fucking you. Matt picks up your panties and walks towards you.

"Just forget those," you say, your legs shaking. Your voice is now hoarse and raw.

"Hey, I'm not complaining," Matt laughs. He puts on his boxers and slides into bed with you. He cracks open your water bottle and takes a long drink.

"That's not yours," you poke at him playfully, your croaky voice breaking up your words.

"You said we can share."

"Well, currently I think I need that more than you do."

He hands you the bottle as you both giggle. After taking a sip, you return the bottle to him. He closes it and sits it back in it's place. Matt pulls you in and gives you a long, deep kiss, sending chills down your spine.

"Now, let's go to sleep before they decide to come in here to investigate," he says. With no response, you curl into his chest and you both doze off.

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #nicholas sturniolo #sturniolo smut #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #Spotify

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guiltyasdave · 5 months ago

Text

like snow on the beach

pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

word count: ~2.8k

summary: You're on a work trip with your boss, who you don't like and who you're convinced doesn't like you either. Unfortunately, there's only one bed.

tags/warnings: only one bed trope (ayyyy), fluff, idiots in love, alternating povs, reader has hair that drips down her neck after showering at one point but there are no texture or color descriptors, able-bodied reader, no use of y/n, my nonexistent knowledge of colombian geography which i'm asking you to ignore for the sake of this silly story THANK YOU

a/n: my entry for the summer lovin' challenge brought to us by queens @pedgito, @chaotic-mystery and @amanitacowboy <3 i got the moodboard you see in the header and the location by the water. i'm also posting a little early but i'm too excited and it's almost midnight here so i think it's gonna be fine hehe

biggest love to @sizzlingcloudmentality who held my hand through writing this and patiently listened to all my complaints lol. i love drinking more caffeine than pedro and writing with you while getting distracted by cats <3

dividers by @plum98!

find my full masterlist here and follow @guiltyasdavenotifs to get notified when i post a new fic :)

You’re hot, too hot.

It’s disorienting, as you blink awake, slow to get your bearings. Arms are wrapped around you, caging you in, engulfing you in the warmth of the body pressed against your back. Hot air is fanning against your neck, accompanied by a scratching sensation on the sensitive skin.

Your surroundings are unfamiliar, faded wallpaper in an unappealing shade of green and light filtering in through the battered up blinds. It comes back to you in pieces, the motel you’re staying at, the small Colombian town where you’re hoping to get a hold of one of the Cali cartel men.

The obnoxious scent of Peña’s aftershave is flooding your nostrils, paired with the traces of tobacco that follow him everywhere he goes. It’s honestly embarrassing, how easily you recognize it.

It clicks into place now. The arms around you, the warmth. The scratch that you now realize is his mustache as he’s breathing against your neck.

You start wriggling around, causing the man behind you to stir, a confused groan coming out slightly muffled, his mouth still so close to your skin. He lets go of you after a second, allowing you to turn around and glare at him.

His face is already forming his signature annoyed scowl, an expression that you’re more than well acquainted with.

“What the hell are you doing?!”

He sounds different like this, voice still thick with sleep, a hint of the disorientation that you’ve shaken off by now.

“What am I doing? I woke up with your arms around me, Peña.”

He blinks, shifting to sit up and lean against the headboard. You mirror him, putting as much space between you as the rather small bed frame allows.

“Sorry,” he allows after a beat, running a hand through his hair, tousling the mess of black strands that has formed in his sleep. “That wasn’t… appropriate. I apologize.”

If you weren’t as annoyed right now, you’d probably think that he looks adorable like this. The you from a few months ago would most likely go wild at seeing Javier Peña right after waking up, after he held you in his arms no less.

The you from a few months ago hadn’t experienced what an asshole of a boss he could be yet, hadn’t been taken off investigations again and again, because Peña thought you weren’t ready. She also hadn’t heard about his terrible reputation with women, hadn’t been subjected to all the office gossip that surrounded him yet.

Now, after days of practically begging him to take you along on this trip because the whole investigation was based on information that you had gathered, you’re stuck in this motel room with him. Something about your booking of two single rooms accidentally having been processed as one double room, with no other rooms available because of course there weren’t.

Peña had offered to sleep on the ground, or in the car, but you had waved him off, thinking about how often he had complained how his back was getting worse the older he got on the drive here. You hadn’t expected to wake up to him all but wrapped around you.

Maybe a small, very small part of you is still going wild about it. A part that you can easily swallow down though. He’s objectively attractive, yes. Doesn’t change the fact that he’s an asshole.

“Just forget it,” you mumble, heat rising belatedly in your cheeks. Gathering your clothes for the day, you flee to the bathroom, eager to wash the whole decidedly weird situation off your body and out of your mind. You’re here because you have a job to do, not to get flustered around your boss.

When you reemerge, wet strands of your hair dripping down your neck, he’s already dressed, clasping his hands in a way that almost seems nervous. If you weren’t pretty convinced that Javier Peña isn’t physically able to get nervous.

“I– I’m really sorry,” he repeats, raising from the worn down arm chair he’s been sitting in. “I didn’t mean to put you in an uncomfortable position. I’m not– I’m not exactly used to sharing a bed.”

A scoff leaves you at that. Sure, Agent Peña, who’s notorious for sleeping with his informants and with at least half of the female staff of the American embassy, isn’t used to sharing his bed.

“Don’t worry about it, Peña.”

You turn away before he can reply, collecting your notes on the investigation that you hope will come in helpful eventually. You don’t catch the remorseful look in his eyes, or the way they linger on you as you open the door, the early morning light illuminating your figure.

It’s another day filled with nothing but waiting and growing frustration, just like the one before. The sun is beating down on the car that you’re occupying, the heat suffocating even with the windows rolled down and the cool bottle of water that you’re pressing against your neck.

Minutes tick by, turning into hours that go by too quickly and seem to last forever at the same time. Peña is surprisingly quiet, not goading you in the way you had expected him to.

“Maybe the information was bad,” you mumble eventually, sinking deeper into the car seat. The leather is sticking uncomfortably to your skin and you can’t shake the growing feeling that you’ve insisted on coming out here for nothing.

He slowly turns his head in your direction, regarding you through the dark tint of his aviators.

“I looked at it. We wouldn’t be here if it was bad.”

You huff, your patience running short and shorter at the subtle indication of his superiority, his quiet arrogance, always so fucking sure of himself.

“You weren’t exactly thrilled about coming here, remember?”

He raises a brow, a hint of impatience on his own features.

“I wasn’t thrilled about you coming here.”

You roll your eyes, openly scowling at him now.

“It’s my intel.”

“Doesn’t make it less dangerous, does it?”

Biting your lip, you force your blood to not boil over. He’s still your boss, at the end of the day, someone you probably shouldn’t start cussing out, no matter how openly he underestimates you and how badly it annoys you. And you’re gonna have to share that wretched bed with him again tonight.

Javier watches your face, watches you swallow down your anger, watches your teeth digging into your plush bottom lip. He understands your frustration, understands that no part of this trip is turning out the way you expected it to.

You’re still new to the workfield, not yet experienced with the hours upon hours of waiting, more often than not without a satisfying result to show for it. If he’s being honest with himself, he isn’t mad about it this time. He’ll rather have you frustrated than in danger.

You want to prove yourself, you’ve made that abundantly clear. You work hard, determined to bring in results, hungry for praise. It’s not that he doesn’t see that, doesn’t think that you’re capable. But he’s seen enough, enough injuries, enough psychological trauma, enough deaths, to know that he wants you far away from that side of your work.

Even if that means you’re angry at him more often than not, a glint of bitterness in your eyes every time he refuses to send you out yet again.

After another few hours, accompanied by the increasing rumbling in both your stomachs, he finally calls it quits for the day.

“We can drive back to Bogotá tomorrow,” he quietly offers on the way back to the motel, after picking up food for the both of you and refusing to let you pay for your share. “Gather more information, see why we didn’t find anything.”

You huff in return, irritated about the whole situation. The one chance you had to convince him to take you seriously, and this is what you get. “Fine,” you agree, gritting your teeth. Maybe your intel was bad. Maybe you just aren’t that good at your job.

“Keep to your side of the bed tonight,” you grumble later, after the bored woman at the reception told you that there still aren't any other rooms available.

“Of course,” he sighs, sliding under the covers with the biggest possible distance from you.

You nod, closing your eyes and willing for sleep to take you, but it’s a losing game. You toss and turn, feeling both too hot and too cold at the same time, unable to find a comfortable position and to get the voices in your head to shut up.

When you roll over yet again, his voice rings through the dark, somewhat agitatedly asking what’s wrong.

“Nothing,” comes your frustrated reply, pressing your face deeper into the cushion, your eyes squeezed shut. After a few more breaths and zero sign of your brain slowing down, you turn towards him, only able to make out his silhouette in the dark. Your judgment is probably hazy with how tired you are, but the words are out of your mouth before you can think them over.

“Can I ask you a question, Agent Peña?”

“Javier is fine.”

Your heart gives a tiny flutter, despite your conflicted feelings about him, despite the question that you’re about to ask.

“Why do you not like me?”

It’s inappropriate, especially right now, lying in the dark and sharing a fucking bed with him. But you think that if you don’t ask now, you probably never will, and you need to know.

“Why would you think that I don’t like you?”

You huff, squinting at him. “It’s pretty obvious. You don’t trust my work, you never send me to go out, dismiss my intel most of the time–”

It’s silent for a long time, safe for his quiet breaths.

“That’s not–” He sighs deeply, turning his head towards you as well. “That’s not true. You’re making it about yourself when you shouldn’t. I treat you exactly like your colleagues, you’re the one taking it personal.”

It’s curt, dismissive. Laced with carefully feigned indifference, bordering on coldness. Too carefully. You didn’t think he’d lie to you if you asked him this directly, but here you are.

Blinking back angry tears, you roll onto your back again, unseeingly staring at the ceiling. You don’t understand why it hits you like this. You’ve had shitty bosses before, far worse than Peña. You’ve just never wanted them to like you the way you want him to.

“Good night, Agent Peña.” You turn onto your other side, your back towards him.

“Good night,” comes his solemn reply.

You don’t wake up with his arms around you again, thankfully, but he hasn’t exactly kept to his side of the bed either. One hand is curled over your shoulder, like he had to reach out and hold onto you in his sleep.

You’re the one taking it personal.

Clearly he hasn’t been reaching for you specifically. It’s probably just second nature for him, something that usually goes well with the women sharing his bed.

You’re able to shake his hold off without waking him up, something that you’re grateful for.

When he wakes and repeats how he thinks you should abandon the investigation, you don’t argue. It’s a quiet affair, packing up and getting ready to leave.

Sitting in the driver’s seat, he turns to you, his brow furrowed into that moody expression you’ve gotten used to. “I’ve been thinking,” he begins, eyeing you warily. “We’re not far from the ocean right now. Have you been to the beach since you came to Colombia?”

You raise an eyebrow in mild suspicion, curious where he’s going with this.

“I haven’t been out of Bogotá since I landed there. But–”

His eyes grow softer, his hand twitching like he almost reached out towards you.

“No buts. At least then it won’t have been a total waste of time to come here, right?”

The dig towards you, towards the reason you drove all the way out here for nothing isn’t lost on you. You don’t have it in you to argue against it, so you just nod, staring straight ahead.

Javier realizes how badly you misunderstood his words as soon as they’re out of his mouth and he sees your face. He doesn’t know how he consistently manages to fuck up his interactions with you like this. It’s not him, the blundering, the words constantly coming out all wrong, but you make him nervous in a way that he hasn’t experienced in years.

He starts driving, hopeful to somehow still be able to turn this trip around. There’s a whole day on the road ahead of them, and he’d much rather spend those hours without feeling like he’s made you hate him.

You do soften at the sight of the ocean, the sound of waves rolling against the shore having a soothing effect almost instantly. It’s beautiful, the water a brilliant blue, the sun glittering on the surface. You can’t be mad right now, not even at Javier, who’s keeping his distance, letting you wander along the shore by yourself.

You focus on taking in the scenery, hoping to somehow take it with you to when you’re back in your bleak, government issued apartment, staring at the vastness of gray buildings that is of Bogotá.

When you turn back to him, his eyes are already on you, less tense, more open than you’re used to. You don’t know how long they’ve been lingering on you, how little attention he had been paying to the nature surrounding you. How good it had felt, to see you like this, without the usual distaste in your face that you have come to regard him with most of the time. The silhouette of you against the bright sky, your skin glowing under the beaming sun.

“Thank you,” you say, actually smiling at him. A spark of warmth grows in his chest. “This was a good idea, I– I enjoyed it.”

“I’m glad.” He eagerly returns the smile, allows himself to reach out and graze one finger against the soft skin of your hand. Finding himself unable to stop touching you, now that he’s had a taste of it.

Confusion crosses your face before you quickly avert your eyes, but you don’t pull away. It gives him a sliver of hope, that maybe you’re starting to understand what he doesn’t know how to tell you.

After a mostly quiet drive back, both of you too exhausted to talk much, Javier drops you off at your apartment, his hand once again hovering over yours before you get out.

“Good night,” he breathes, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. After a moment of hesitation, he continues on. “You– you’re doing good work. Don’t beat yourself up over this, okay?”

You manage a nod, murmuring thank you, Javier before opening the car door and stepping out onto your street, illuminated by the glow of yellow lights. You only realize that you used his first name by the time that your apartment door falls shut behind you. It doesn’t bother you as much as you thought it would.

Breathing in the familiar scent of your own place, a deep relief washes over you, reveling in the knowledge that you’re gonna sleep in your own bed tonight, alone. You turn on your shower, eager to let the warm water soothe your muscles, stiff from spending the entire day in a car.

When you exit the bathroom, wrapped into a towel and with a cloud of steam accompanying you, your answering machine is blinking. You press the button to let the message play, moving through your apartment to put on your comfiest sleepwear and ready to fall straight into bed.

You stop in your tracks when Javier’s voice rings through the room, tripping over the words in a way that’s difficult to associate with the calm, self-assured man that you know.

“Hey, it’s Javier. You– you’re probably showering, or already asleep. I just– I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings these past days, or– or any day, really. I wanted you to know that. You’re good at what you do, you really are, but– I worry about you, I guess. And I know that I shouldn’t, that I shouldn’t treat you differently. It’s– it’s not because I don’t like you. I like you too much, if anything, and– and now I know what it’s like to sleep next to you, and– anyway, I’m– shit, I’m making a fool of myself. Just– just call me back. Please.”

Your hand finds your phone as soon as the recording ends.

thank you for reading! as always, reblogs, comments and asks are love and absolutely make my day <3

#SummerLovin24 #javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena x you #javier pena narcos #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x female reader #janas fics

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