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your-highnessmarvel · 4 months ago

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Insatiable

AN: No one asked for this but the Butcher brain rot is crazy and i can't stop myself. Alas, I couldn't resist so welcome to the madness. Anyway, I went insane and absolutely wrote a devoted piece to this man. Jesus help me.

Warnings: dub-con (use of sex pollen-ish mind control), smut, fingering, language, and Butcher is a warning in and of itself.

MINORS DNI Below the cut

"I'm not wearing any underwear."

The admonition echoed in the habitat of Butcher's Cadillac like a bird's call. Even the sound of leather on leather, as the man sitting beside you slowly turned to examine you, wasn't loud enough to get the stupid ringing out of your head.

This had all started off like a bad scab you thought was healed but wasn't, and now it was bleeding all over your favorite pink pull.

Hughie and MM had uncovered a rightful piece of Temp V hideout; a Supe's mansion on the Upper East Side who, just happened, to be throwing one of his renowned "XXXchange" parties for Supes and their pets (this was how it was described on the e-vite MM hacked).

This Supe, still unknown to everyone because he kept the mansion under a random woman's name, was supposedly a Seven-in-the-making, as Hughie put it. If he could prove himself, he was next in line for a comfy beige seat in the Tower. So hence, him keeping and distributing Temp V to teens and young adults who didn't know any better.

So what had been Hughie's grand ol' plan? Bring you in. As the newest Supe member of The Boys, no one had yet seen your face. No one even knew of you. You were a low-level "barely considerable" Supe...as Butcher had put it the first time he blew the hinges off your front door.

Your power wasn't really a - well, a power at all. It was mostly an advancement, an intellectual add-on, or a sixth sense. You could read lies. More coherently, because someone with a beard and a giant stick up his ass didn't understand correctly--you could tell when someone was lying.

You weren't really an attribute to the team when it came to brute force. You left that up to Annie and Kimiko. But you had your perks, and since you were still under Vought's radar, you could slip through the cracks and get intel for the Boys.

Now why was Butcher with you, the most notorious Boys' member? Well, one might say he was eager to see your 2-hour fight training in practice, but really, it was because he "didn't trust a dumb twat with highly sensitive information and tech". His words.

So he'd garnished a Tommy Bahama blouse with pink flamingoes and palm trees and a matching set of swim shorts, sunglasses, and a stupid bright pink bucket hat that was way too small for his big ass head.

And now here both of y'all were, headed to the Upper East Side, dressed like a hooker and a pimp. Annie had insisted on this get up, a tiny, tiny pink skirt, a white bikini top, and a pink cover up with flip flops to finish off this fucking look. Because apparently, no one would let you in if you weren't A) a Supe and B) not dressed like a House Bunny.

"So you're tellin' me," Butcher drawled as the New York skyline darkened, "that your bare pussy is suction-cupping my leather seats?"

You crossed your arms. "I'm sitting at an angle."

Butcher slapped the wheel. "You should've told me earlier!" he laughed. You frowned in return when he swivelled that giant head of his towards you. "Come now, if you're not wearing panties, why should I, eh?"

"You wear panties?"

He hummed, regaining control of the road as the car slipped passed the last townhouse to enter Mansion Ville.

"I like you, little Truthteller," he mumbled to himself. "Thought you were a bit worthless at first, but you might just prove yourself tonight!"

You didn't dare answer the last bit, instead focusing on the details Annie and Hughie gave you before you flip-flopped your way into Butcher's passenger seat (and did absolutely not suction-cup his leather seats).

The idea was to go in and place a few bugs in and around the mansion in key locations. You could try to figure out who the Supe was or even find out where he stashed his V, but it didn't matter. The Boys would find out over the bugs.

The mansion Butcher parked the Caddie in front of was like a cookie-cutter version of the 90s PlayBoy mansion.

"Alright, love," Butcher sighed, killing the engine and stepping out, rounding the nose of the car to open the door for you. "Give 'em a nice peek of that minge, eh?"

You blushed from head to toe, a torment of fire assaulting your skin until Butcher caught on and chuckled low in his chest, helping you step out the car with his hand.

You still hadn't gotten used to the crass words that could tumble out of his mouth like vomit.

He guided you to the entrance, where a man dressed in black boxers and a black neck tie asked for your invite number, which you recited from the one Hughie gave you.

Then he asked, "And which is Supe and which is pet?"

You blushed even hotter. "Um." Your throat got sticky and dry all at once. "I'm the Supe and he's my... um, he's my-"

"Her pet," Butcher interrupted with a wide smile, the sunglasses hiding the glint in his eye that was surely showing. That ridiculous bucket hat made him look almost two heads taller than you as he bent down to whisper in your ear, "bark, bark."

You groaned inwardly as you lead him into the foyer, where a sprawling staircase lead to a mezzanine and a mahogany banister and a wide archway gave way to a mess of bodies in the living room.

"Oh my God," you mumbled, turning away from the onslaught of legs and arms and slithering bodies like a pile of snakes.

"Oh, nuh-uh," Butcher chuckled, grabbing you by the shoulders, steering you right into the mass of party-goers, moaning and groaning and thrusting into one another or bouncing on top of each other like mad dogs. "If you want to play the part, you have to look the part." His mouth was right next to your ear, and for some reason, the breath caressing your skin sent a slowly gliding shiver down your spine.

Why was this happening?

You felt the flesh melt where his fingers lay, clutching at your shoulders, pulling your coverup off of you.

"Butcher," you said, stopping his hand.

He shook his head. "Show them what you got, mama," he whispered again, the rough of his beard tracing against your cheek. He scooped the coverup off your shoulders and threw it across the room, leaving you in your bikini top.

Butcher had never seen you so exposed before. You'd always worn pants and t-shirts around the safe house, so watching all that bare skin available to his hungry eyes flipped a switch in his head.

A woman, tall and elegant, cream skin and sultry black eyes, approached you before Butcher could do something stupid. He straightened up, lifting the sunglasses from his nose.

"Miss, look at you," he cooed.

Miss was naked. Someone had left a bite mark on her right breast, just above her peaked nipple. She was so long-limbed and beautiful, and the sight of her naked body made you turn away instinctively.

"I like you," she said, voice low and husky, like a purr.

"I like you too, sweetheart," Butcher answered, the heat of his body completely leaving you as he zeroed in all his attention on the naked, wanting lady before you.

She huffed. "You're great too," she answered, and when you turned, her lascivious brown eyes were settled on you. "But it's her that I want."

Butcher gasped and then erupted in laughter, taking the bucket hat off his head and putting it to his heart. "Woah, I never imagined I'd see this in my lifetime."

The other woman smiled slowly and you gulped. She was pretty, but she was also not part of the mission.

So you back-peddled.

You put a delicate hand to Butcher's arm, digging your nails into his skin, and put on a lovely, sweet smile for the offering girl. "That's nice of you," you said, voice sultry like a wet candy cane. "But we're more interested in watching." As you said this, you dropped into your act as best you could, mustering up the strength not to blush but to play the part of the sex-obsessed Supe.

She brightened up at this, gesturing to Butcher. "Well I could fuck him while you watch," she suggested.

Butcher's body tensed up against you and he turned to you. "Please say yes," he mumbled.

You smiled, throwing him a glance. "Both of us are watchers," you corrected, watching as she bowed her head, a lustrous gleam in her eye.

"It would've been a pleasure," she said before walking away.

When she was climbing onto another woman's lap, Butcher grabbed your bicep and brought you into a corner, sheltered in the dim lighting of the room, smothered under the moans and groans and the sloppy sounds of...intercourse.

"You were this close to fulfilling a fantasy of mine," he groaned, and when you looked up, he looked more angry than turned on.

"We're not here so I can watch you have sex with a woman, asshole!" you gritted between your teeth. ''We're here to plant bugs and find some V."

He huffed, rearranging his Tommy Bahama. "I'm obeying just because you're wearing this outfit," he grumbled, following you as you led them into the next room.

A kitchen, stock full with boxes of canned beverages and food platters.

"Okay, here." You pointed to the dinner table in the adjacent room, a teakwood marvel that surely housed a few meetings or two.

Butcher expertly placed a bug under the table.

You meandered safely through the house, planting bugs in various living rooms, meeting rooms, and spare bedrooms. Whenever some couple or lone masturbator dedicated their attention to you both, you pretended to watch, Butcher enlacing you in his arms.

It's only then you noticed how tall, how big this man was. He was easily dwarfing you by just standing there, your head against his chest, his fingers drawing lazy circles against your exposed spine.

When the onlookers would pass, he'd chuckle as you pushed him away like he was a booger wall.

But the more you traveled in the house, the more people seemed to stare, wanting, questioning. So you ended up holding Butcher's hand, at his command: "Wouldn't want the lovely ladies stealing you away, eh?"

And hand holding turned into his arm around your shoulders, the tip of his very long fingers ghosting your breast.

"Let's go upstairs," he whispered in your ear once he'd bugged up the toilet.

"Ew, no."

He sucked his teeth. "I mean," he gritted, pushing you up against a wall when a man with a considerably large strap on made his way towards you. Butcher bent down, squeezing the breath from your lungs as he grazed his mouth on your bare shoulder. He pressed a featherlight kiss, all while observing the passing man, dragging his lips up to your ear. "We should go bug up the rooms, eh? Maybe see if we can find this cunt's V supply?"

You nodded, a wicked shiver pebbling your flesh.

Butcher blew cold breath onto the thin line of saliva he'd left on your skin. "Cold?"

You swallowed hard. "Let's just go."

He chuckled as you grabebd his hand and led him back to the stairs, galloping up to the second floor.

Truth is, you'd never imagined Butcher like this. He was so arrogant and he loved to make people jump out of their skins by how uncomfortable they were with him, but you'd chopped it up to the old chip on the block; Butcher pushing people away to keep himself safe.

So when the Boys had initiated you, you'd figured it'd be best to steer clear from this tyrant of a man. He was way older than you anyway, and he was always calling you every name in the book except your government given one. And he was always dismissing your ideas, so you'd always assumed he had an image of an immature little girl in his head.

But he'd dreamed of you more times than he cared to count. The messed up parts of his brain, where most of it was left behind in his old life, conjured up hauntings of you every night. Of those soft, plump lips whenever you'd eat cherries. Of your legs in your pajama shorts and your giggle when Kimiko signed something stupid. Of that perfect little body of yours.

"Okay, in here." You interrupted his chain of thought, the one that was going to crash into a puddle brains that would eventually leak out of his ear.

You lead him into a room, which turned out to be some kind of antechamber with a hearth and a giant portrait of a small, bald man.

"He looks like a mouse," you muttered.

But Butcher froze, tearing his hand away from yours. "Oh, fuck me," he groaned, putting his sunglasses and hat onto the low table. "That's the fucking Seducer."

Your skin crawled. You turned, examined Butcher's expression as he leaned against the far wall. "This cum guzzler is the one trafficking V?" he thought to himself, just as you asked, "who's the Seducer?"

Butcher turned to examine you across the room, lit by a few lights in the sconces. "He's the world's number 1 date raper," he answered, frowning. "This guy can intoxicate the female species into a mad heat, like dogs."

"What?" You frowned.

Butcher walked a bit closer, turning his head to watch you out of one eye, like a bird. "Yeah, he secrets this hormone on a whim and boom, bitches go mad for his dick."

"Oh." You swallowed, turned to push the handle of another door, leading to a darkened room fit for a king. "I think this is his room."

Butcher muttered behind you, "Lucky guy if you ask me."

"Trouble getting women, Butcher?" you asked absentmindedly as you entered the dark room, lights from the lawn outside filtering milky-white through the windows, illuminating your path like a trail of snow.

Butcher followed, closing the door behind you. "Not really," he answered, immediately pulling cubbards and drawers open. "The ladies love me."

"Oh, yeah I bet," you muttered, pulling open the wardrobe. A loose floorboard creaked loudly and you froze, turning to meet Butcher's eye.

He scrambled to where you stood, pressing on the floor and repeating the awful creaking sound.

"Pants jizzer must be keeping the V under his floor," he mumbled, pressing until at least 6 floorboards rose from the ground on one end, a whole door to the underside of the Seducer's floor.

"Bingo," you giggled, helping Butcher pull the damn thing open. But there was nothing there, only an empty black space that could've fit maybe two people, gaping at you like a dark maw. "He must have transfered them," you whispered.

"Or he's trafficking other things," Butcher replied darkly.

Just as you were about to close the floorboards, a loud thud rang out in the antechamber. You froze, listening, until a feminine giggle made you and Butcher lock eyes.

"Get in," he whispered, motioning to the black pit under your knees.

"In here!?" you whispered tightly.

Whoever was on the other side was making their way towards the room, painstakingly, and this was not the place you and Butcher needed to be found.

"Yes, fuck, get in," he insisted, and your heart thudded so loudly, so harshly against your throat you thought it would burst right out through your chest.

Shaking, you got into the little space, falling onto your back because you couldn't see where this thing ended. As soon as you got your hair out of your eyes, Butcher was tumbling onto you, closing the floorboards a millisecond before the bedroom door burst open.

Sound was immediately muffled, like being underwater, and the only thing you could hear was your breathing. Butcher's breathing over you. Your heart in your throat, nauseating you, the adrenaline rushing like a flood in your veins.

Butcher's chest heaving against yours, the entire length of him pressed up on you like a heavy blanket.

"Get off," you whispered, feeling the heat of his forearm next to your head.

"There's no space," he grumbled, his voice catching on your cheek, your neck, as he tried to maneuver himself every which way that meant he wasn't pressed up on you, but he was just so damn big, like hiding with a grizzly bear, that whenever he tried to move, he just ended up being half on and half off you.

"Fuck it," he grumbled, pressing one hand under your thigh, wrenching a gasp from your throat as he placed himself comfortably between your legs.

The pressure of him on your bare bottom half made you freeze, heart hammering like an angry drum against your ribcage. The way you were positioned, thighs wide open, knees bent each side of his waist, made the skimpy little skirt bundle up onto your tummy, leaving you completely bare.

"Hush up, little thing," Butcher whispered in your ear, holding himself up on his forearms as not to crush the breath out of you. But his voice was wretched, pulled and tight, no doubt reacting to the heat he could feel through the thin fabric of his swim shorts.

The noise overhead intensified; a moan, a few garbled words, thudding.

"They're going to do it while he lie here," you whispered, hands balled up by your sides.

Butcher chuckled silently, breath fanning your neck. "So we really are voyeurs."

You smiled, holding back a giggle until a heavy thud caught your attention and the voices suddenly got a bit clearer. They were right over you.

A woman's voice floated through. "How ever I can serve you, Seducer."

The last word made your insides coil in fear. It looked like this woman was answering a command from the Seducer himself, the man who owned this house, who trafficked all the V and worked with Vought.

"Fuck," Butcher muttered. "This is worse than I thought."

"Why?" you asked silently, your fingers trembling against your thighs.

You felt him bend forward, his body tight like a rod. "This is going to hurt, love."

And just as you were about to ask what he was about to do, a soft pang echoed in your lower belly, like someone had tied a rope to your bellybutton and pulled. You squirmed, the thudding overhead leading back to the bed.

The pulling again, making you heave in a breath, squeeze your eyes shut. "No, no, no," you muttered, feeling an ache build between your legs, a force pull through your veins like molten honey.

The Seducer was using his power. And it wasn't just affecting the woman he was with... it was starting to affect you.

You felt yourself clench on nothing but air when the ache throbbed against your clit, like an invisible vacuum seal had closed over it, and you lifted your hips off the floor slightly.

Butcher immediately grabbed your hip, bringing you back down forcibly, sending a new wave of heat, of ache, of hurt through your body just at the touch of his bare fingers on your bare hip.

"Don't," he breathed, his word clipped. "Don't do that."

He could feel the heat of you through his shorts, just how impossibly hot you were, probably dripping from the Seducer's power, and the little control he exhibited around you was pulling quite taut.

"It hurts, Butcher," you gritted through your teeth, hands settling on his shoulders for support as another wave of need, of painful, painful need, throbbed through your body like a pulsing nuclear explosion. Your legs tightened around his waist, nails digging into the fabric of his Tommy Bahama. "Make it stop," you pleaded, heaving, throwing your head back, bucking your hips to get the pain to stop. Just stop.

Butcher huffed, cradling your face, his insides in turmoil with his brain. God had given him such a gift right now, a chance to take you, mark you as his, finally fuck that perfect little body--and he didn't know if he was man enough to stop himself.

You groaned in pain, subconsciously grinding your bare pussy against his thigh, searching for any kind of friction, of relief. Your skin was so hot, sweat beading your forehead as you braced through another wave of this unknown ache, throbbing relentlessly against your clit, deep inside you, just grazing your g-spot.

Your fingers balled into fists against his shirt, your face finding his chest, and you sobbed, "Make it stop, Butcher, please, it hurts."

You weren't aware that your hips had started grinding against his thigh, the knee he'd placed between your legs for leverage. And just the fact that he could feel his shorts getting soaked had him straining against the stitches of his sanity.

"There's only one way," he breathed against your ear. You sobbed, heaving, breathing raggedly, grinding so hard on his knee it was almost pathetic. "Are you sure you want to try?" he asked, voice trembling.

You sniffed, hung onto his neck for dear life. "Please, anything, this is--ah--this is unbearable."

He bent his head, mumbled for God to forgive him, and then pressed a deep, hard kiss on your lips, pressing you back into the floor completely. Somewhere above him, he heard a woman moan loudly, but the only thing that registered to him was the way you clung to him like a pawing animal.

A strangled moan, quiet and restrained, left your throat, caught behind your teeth as he ravaged your mouth.

"N-no," you mumbled. "No."

He pulled away, kissing your jaw, your neck until your were humping his thigh like a woman gone mad.

"This the only way, little Truthteller," he murmured in your ear, dragging his knee away and feeling your entire body go stiff against him.

A whine, like delicious music, lifted to his ear and he groaned inwardly. He had to convince himself he was doing it for you, but half of him was delighted at the idea of finally having you. Like a meal he'd been mouth-watering over for some time, and now it was fresh and warm right in front of him.

"I need," you muttered, groaning through another wave of the Seducer's power, your hips bucking into nothing. "I need..."

"You need to cum, little dove," Butcher whispered, caressing the side of your face and you shook your head.

"No."

"Yes, love," he muttered, tracing the line of your neck, down your chest until he softly cupped your breast.

A quiet moan rippled along your throat like a symphony to his ears. He played with your hard nipple through the fabric until he pushed it aside and replaced his thumb with the warmth of his mouth.

"Fuck," you whispered, pushing against his shoulders. "This is wrong." Your voice was so thin.

Butcher lapped at your nipple like an ice cream cone. "Want me to do this to your pretty little pussy?" he mumbled, and the crass words sent a hot wave of need pulsing painfully between your legs.

His other hand skimmed down your side, over the swell of your hip, and down to where you needed him most.

When he swiped a slow finger across your soaked folds, the grunt that left him was purely predatory. "You're so fucking wet," he whispered, to the accompanying sound of your panting. He brushed his thumb across your clit, holding you down as you jolted, flicking his tongue against your nipple.

"Butcher, please," you begged.

"Billy, love," he whispered, raising his head to kiss the corner of your mouth, brushing his thumb against your clit once more to capture your gasp in his kiss. "Call me Billy."

You gripped onto his shoulders, feeling the wide, powerful muscle of his right hand playing with you.

He pressed three fingers flat against you and you bucked, searching for more, as he circled slowly, starting you off.

"Say it," he commanded quietly, circling your clit faster.

"Billy," it came out as a whine and he groaned lowly, capturing your lips and kissing down your throat. The way his fingers played you like a harp wrenched a pornographic moan from your throat and immediately, Billy put a hand over your mouth, the skin between his thumb and forefinger snug under your nose.

"Quiet for me, little Truthteller," he whispered.

He moved his fingers to your entrance and slipped one in so easily it was almost embarrassing. He cooed at you, gliding his finger in and out so slowly it was almost arrogant. "So fucking wet, this perfect little hole."

You keened, squeezing your eyes shut at his crude words, searching for more friction until the heel of his hand pressed snuggly against your clit.

Your hips moved on their own, bucking against his hand as he pumped his finger, faster and faster until your pants turned into hyperventilating and your legs started to close around his hips.

"Got my whole hand drenched, pretty love," he whispered. "That perfect little cunt can handle another finger?"

You preened against his hand, your sounds muffled against his large, meaty palm and he chuckled at you.

The second finger was a tighter fit, his thick digits spreading you and squelching into you slowly.

"Ah, there's my girl," he moaned in your ear. "Fucking my fingers like a good girl."

You wanted to tell him to quit teasing, to bring you to orgasm as quickly as possible because the heat stirring under your skin was insatiable, but you didn't understand how much Billy was enjoying himself. He didn't know when he'd get a chance to have you so willingly spread open for him again, or if he'd ever get the chance again. So he savored this moment like a dying man's last meal.

He let you adjust to his fingers, fucking them into you, palming your clit before he thrust in another finger, opening you wide to him. You gurgled against his hand, muffled moans and pleas stuck behind his palm.

He didn't miss just how tight you were around his fingers, how snug and warm. "So tight, my little love," he cooed, thrusting his fingers in and out slowly, enjoying the way your hips bucked.

The sloppy sounds of your cunt sucking on his fingers drove you mad and a hot, painful knot formed in your belly, pulling and tugging at your insides.

He felt you trembling, your orgasm on the horizon, and he lifted his hand off your mouth, capturing your lips in a warm, sloppy kiss.

"Want you to cum with my name in your mouth," he mumbled, almost incoherent in his chase for your climax. He pressed his thumb to your mouth, opening it, listening to your panting, your quiet moans as he fucked his fingers into your cunt, pressing down on your clit, rubbing it with his palm.

"Billy," you breathed. "Billy. Billy." Like a mantra, a prayer.

"That's it, my pretty girl," he whispered, thumb on your tongue, fingers fucking your pussy until that knot in your bely tightened impossibly and your legs went numb. "Cum my pretty dove, gush all over my hand, come on now."

He grunted against you, and somehow, that guttural, manly sound made stars explode in your belly and you came, shuddering his name quietly, over and over and over until the pleasure had seeped out of your veins and you crumbled back to the floor. You felt his fingers slip out of you, his wet hand pull your knee apart, press against the meat of your thigh, spreading you wide, wide open.

He slithered down your body like a snake, pushing you up against the confines of this box until you felt the warm breath of him against your clit. When he lapped at you, humming around your hole like a satiated man, you mumbled his name, searching with your hands until you grabbed onto the thick strands of his hair. Panting, you mumbled his name again.

"Just having a taste, love," he mumbled, sucking on your over-sensitive clit until the heat came blasting through you again, all over, like you were under the Seducer's spell again.

"Fuck," you gritted, biting your lip, caging in the awfully loud, guttural moan that wanted to spring free.

Billy grabbed onto your hips, holding them down, his forearm over your belly like an anchor.

"One more, little Truthteller," he mumbled, flicking your clit with his tongue, his beard scraping on the inside of your sensitive thighs.

"Billy, please," you whined softly.

"Always wanted a taste," he said. Not a lie. "Always wanted to tongue-fuck this perfect hole." Not a lie.

He pressed his tongue flat to your clit, sucked and nibbled on it until he pressed his tongue right into your cunt, fucking you with his tongue like he'd promised. The mix of his hot breath, his tongue inside your walls, his thumb working on your clit made all your senses flush full of adrenaline. Bucking against his face, you rode his mouth until another flash burst through you and you came all over his face, grinding down on his nose until the last waves of your orgasm had left you.

When he climbed back over, kissing your belly, your nipple, covering you with his warmth, you were just a numb shell of the girl you were when you walked in here.

Billy kissed your jaw, your neck, stroking your hair as you regained your senses.

Whoever had been overhead had gone. It was completely silent. And it left you wondering if that last wave of need had been the Seducer's spell or Billy's.

"We should go, love," he whispered. "Before I stuff you full of my cock and have you cumming on it for the third time."

His filthy mouth brought you back to your body, cold and sweaty and oh so comfortable with two orgasm singing in your veins.

"Yeah," you whispered as Billy pushed the trap door open, peaking out to make sure the coast was clear, and then hopping out. He helped you out with his hand, gentle and calm, smoothing down your hair, covering your nipple, patting down your two-inch skirt.

"I've made a real good mess of you, love, eh?" he chuckled, standing and taking your hand. "Was I a good pet?"

#billy butcher #william butcher #butcher the boys #billy butcher smut #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher x you #billy butcher brainrot go brr #billy butcher the boys #butcher x reader

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heatherholes · 3 months ago

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appreciation post for my betters 💖

men who make sexist jokes 💖

men who interrupt 💖

men who mansplain 💖

men who manspread 💖

men who manipulate 💖

men who grope 💖

men who gaslight 💖

men who pay their female employees less 💖

men who don’t hire women at all 💖

men who obviously don’t respect me 💖

men who only pretend to respect me 💖

men who want head and don’t give it in return 💖

men who think they have it worse than women 💖

men who know they have it better 💖

men who expect women to dress modest 💖

men who expect women to dress like sluts 💖

men who think women are public property 💖

men who think women are private property 💖

men who won’t let their girl start an onlyfans 💖

men who make their girl to start an onlyfans 💖

men who provide for women 💖

men who pimp and profit off women 💖

men disgusted by lesbianism 💖

men turned on by lesbianism 💖

men who are stern, stoic and fair 💖

men who are demanding, volatile and unfair 💖

misogynist men who treat women like cunts 💖

feminist men who treat women like cunts 💖

men 💖 men 💖 men 💖 men 💖 men 💖

#this started as one or two things but just kept growing 🙈#hello holes

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revelboo · 2 months ago

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Are you okay writing for tfp Knockout or Breakdown? Maybe they are either another (human) racer or heck even someone who works at the car wash who gives some of the best cars waxes, Knockout befriended. That or maybe they’re a mech experiment (mostly) human survivor that helped Breakdown escape MECH. Or literally whatever you see happening these where just some of my suggestions. The floor is yours if you’re okay writing for them? Thanks either way 😄

My Favorite Accident

Knockout x reader-race

• Huh. Of all the ways you might have imagined you’d die, death by a furious, alien pimp car wouldn’t have made the top ten. Or hundred. Fingers going white knuckled on the helmet in your hands, you feel curiously numb. Drag racing was dangerous and sooner or later, you’d push your luck past the point of no return. But this?

• When you’d managed to pass that stupidly gorgeous, red sports car for the third night in a row, you’d wanted to laugh your head off. Maybe dance a victory jig because your old, rusty Trans Am looked like an ad for tetanus and it’d still beaten all those other pretty, expensive cars. So yeah, when the candy apple red car had followed you and stayed right on your bumper after the race, you’d sucked it up and pulled over. Letting the guy follow you to your house wasn’t happening. If you were going to get screamed at, it was going to be on your terms.

• You grab your switchblade out of the center console and slide it into your back pocket in case wealthy sports car guy decided he could try and bully you out of your winnings. Hip cocked and arms folded across your chest, you wait for the guy to get out and yell- probably accuse you of cheating.

• That sound was something you’d never forget, almost a musical thing as metal shifted and rearranged. And grew to tower over you in the form of a sleek robot.

• An infuriated robot as it takes a thunderous step your way and your helmet hits the asphalt. More than anything, you want to run. The problem is your body isn’t on board. You can’t move at all as it crouches down. “Mind telling me how you beat me in that scrap heap?”

• Cold fury sparking through him, Knockout glares down at the human staring up at him. “Well?” He demands. “You cheated didn’t you?” Because there’s no way a human beat him in that… abomination. It’s not even a car, more a mobile scrap heap. And that just makes it so much worse.

• Huh. Indignation wins out over common sense. “I’m a better driver,” you say. Those strange black and red eyes narrow and you have the thought that you can duck, grab the helmet and sling it at the robot. Maybe buy yourself a whole thirty seconds before it stomps you to death.

• What you don’t expect is for it to throw up an arm in all too human exasperation. “Hardly. I’ve been driving long before you were even alive,” it says, walking past you to stalk around your car. “Do you have any idea how mortifying it is to lose to… this? What it does to my reputation?”

• You can breathe now that it’s not glaring down at you, because it’s popping the hood on your car and shaking its head in disgust. “That’s gotta hurt, huh?” You snark, wincing as it glowers at you over its shoulder with murderous intent.

• “We’re going again. Now.” Because he can’t stand it. And it’s been a long time since anyone’s given him a real challenge. A thrill of electric anticipation makes him smile when your uneasy expression smooths into a cocky sureness, because he knows you won’t just let him win- you’ll fight him tooth and nail for it. A kindred spirit.

#transformers #knockout x reader #tfp knockout

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impala-dreamer · 4 months ago

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It's Fucking Unprofessional

A Story from The Boys Universe

~ While working as a PA for Vought, Y/N has made one promise to herself: to stay the fuck away from Soldier Boy. Some promises are too easily broken…~

Soldier Boy x F!Reader

2,434 Words

NSFW. Snark. Cursing. Assholery. Fucking.

For @jacklesversebingo “You couldn’t handle me even if I came with instructions”

JacklesBingo Masterlist

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist ~ Patreon ~ Published Works

He was terrifying up close.

It wasn’t just the knowledge that he could rip her apart with a simple flick of his wrist, or shove her so hard she’d splatter against the wall like a bug on a windshield. It was much worse than all that. It was the fact that he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. His green eyes behind that mask were piercing… the way his muscles pulsed beneath the suit was mesmerizing… the way he walked with that bow-legged swagger was sexy as hell. Being attracted to the epic piece of shit was way more dangerous than the threat of death.

When Y/N got the job at Vought Studios, she made a promise to her diary and herself. In no way would she get so close to him as to give away the fact that her innocent pussy dripped whenever he was around. She would ignore him entirely. Besides, his behavior was reprehensible. His attitude toward women was disgusting. His ass was so perky and tight and… No. She was going to be strong. She was going to steer clear of all that nonsense.

Not that he’d ever pay attention to someone like her. The key aspect of her job was to be neither seen nor heard; just a person waiting in the wings to hand off a prop, run and get coffee, and clean up the dressing rooms. It would be easy to stay in the shadows, completely off his radar.

Soldier Boy was pissed.

He may have actually been pissed as well as just angry: he stank of rye and stale cigarettes, and fumbled over his lines more than a few times.

For over an hour, he held the crew hostage while attempting to film his required Anti-Drug PSA. Vought was trying to score some points with the public by helping out D.A.R.E. by pimping out their celebrity supes for commercial spots. Soldier Boy was next in line and very unhappy about it.

After the twentieth take, he demanded caffeine and production halted until Y/N returned with a styrofoam cup full of black coffee.

Y/N held her breath and tried to walk away without really looking at him, but Soldier Boy flipped. He sniffed the drink and sneered.

“Is this hot?”

Y/N stepped back as he stared into her eyes, daring her to say something. A wave of arousing fear washed over her as he slammed the cup to the floor. It splintered like rotted wood and the hot liquid went everywhere.

“Iced!”

She jumped.

He raged on.

“Iced coffee!” he screamed. “It’s not hard!”

Nerves ran down her spine and Y/N moved to grab a rag from the craft table.

“It’s fucking unprofessional!”

A knot formed in her chest and instead of shying away, she felt a surge of defiance.

“You’re fucking unprofessional,” she ripped under her breath.

Soldier Boy’s head cocked to the side. She felt his eyes on the back of her neck, digging in.

“Excuse me?”

Y/N turned back with the cleaning rag in hand. “Hmm?”

His jaw clenched and his upper lip twitched. “The fuck did you say to me?”

Batting her eyes innocently, Y/N shrugged and bent down to mop up the spill. “I didn’t say anything.”

His anger followed her down, watching as she dabbed at the floor. Leaning close, he whispered a warning. “I have super hearing, you know.”

Y/N hummed as if she found him boring even though she was screaming inside. “That must be fun for you.”

Again, his teeth gnashed together and she swore she could feel the air around them grow hotter. A deep growl rumbled in the back of his throat and Y/N met his gaze, unfazed but terrified. He was taken aback by her bravery and somewhat impressed by her attitude.

“You know-”

The director called for attention and Soldier Boy sat back up, getting ready while keeping one eye on the mouthy PA.

“OK! Let’s run again!”

If he got through two lines in a row, it was shocking. More than once, he stopped just to glare at Y/N. She couldn’t tell if he was contemplating snapping her neck or undressing her with his eyes, so she kept her arms crossed and her expression cool.

“If taking drugs is uncool,” he mumbled, laughing at himself, “then I’m the most uncool motherfucker on the planet…”

Some of the crew laughed along, but Y/N sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. “You really are,” she muttered.

His laugh died away instantly and he threw daggers with his eyes. “Fuck you.”

Y/N cocked a brow. “Like I’d let you,” she laughed.

Soldier Boy straightened up, surprised. His annoyance turned to interest and he licked his lips. “Oh, I think you’d let me.”

She tongued her cheek and popped a hip. “You think?”

“I know.”

“Pfft.” Y/N rolled her eyes. “You couldn’t handle me even if I came with instructions.”

His smile faded and she turned away, giving him a literal cold shoulder.

The air shifted and her heart stopped when his big hand wrapped around her upper arm, jerking her back a step.

His lips grazed her ear. “You wanna rethink that last statement, sweetheart?”

Y/N tried to wrench her arm away but his grip was absolute. She spun around to face him and nearly lost her footing. He was impossibly close and regrettably gorgeous. She gasped.

“Get off me.”

He blinked slowly and looked her over. He could hear her heart pounding, see the blood rush to her cheeks, smell her arousal. “You’re so… interesting.”

She swallowed hard. “W-What?”

“Defiant and bitchy, but oh so hot for me.”

“Fuck you, no I’m not.” Again, she twisted her arm to break free but it was no use.

His fingers tightened, bruising her flesh. “You are,” he grinned. “I can smell it.”

“You’re disgusting,” she spat.

Behind them, the director tried to regain control.

“Um- let’s uh- if we could just go one more time-”

Soldier Boy shook his head. “No. We got it.”

“We really didn’t,” the man pleaded. “I really think we should go again from the top.”

“No,” he repeated, dragging his eyes down her trembling body. “That’s a wrap!”

She wasn’t sure if he was carrying her or if they were simply moving too fast for her brain to register her feet on the ground.

Soldier Boy broke the lock on a random office door and shoved Y/N inside. He flipped on the lights and kicked the door shut as he turned to smirk at her.

“Now, where were we?”

Y/N backed away, internally battling her desire and aversion. “I believe I was telling you what a piece of shit you are.”

He laughed at her daring words. “You’re something else, you know that?”

She shrugged, playing it cool. “It’s been said.”

“Yeah, but not by me.” With a smug smile, he pulled the mask from his face and ran a hand through his hair.

Y/N felt her defenses crack. Her vision blurred for a second. “Um… I… really don’t care what you think, actually.”

He clicked his tongue and took a step closer. “I think you do, actually.”

Her heart skipped two beats in a row and then struggled to catch up. “Actually, you can fuck off.”

“Maybe.” Soldier Boy grinned and closed the space between them. “Or…” He reached for her throat and her body tensed. Instead of a death grip, he slipped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her close. He was gentle, but she could feel the strength pulsing underneath his touch. “I can fuck you.”

She couldn’t think of a protest that would even remotely come off as true but it didn’t matter anyway. Before she could speak, his lips were on her and her mind melted. He slid his tongue between her lips and her breath stopped. He ran his left hand across her tits and her legs went weak.

When he pulled back, she swayed forward, caught in his pull and utterly on fire for him.

His laugh was smug. His lips were wet and plump.

“Knew you couldn’t resist me,” he teased. “But it was a nice try.”

Every bit of resistance faded into his grin and Y/N dove at him, grabbing a fistful of the fabric collar loose around his throat. He laughed into her hungry kiss and set his hands on her hips. He lifted her as if she weighed no more than a feather, and slammed her down onto the desk like she was simply a toy for his amusement.

He rocked into her and Y/N moaned loudly. His cock was hard and she reached down, rubbing him through the spandex tights.

“How- how do these come off?” she whimpered, tugging at his bottoms.

Another deep kiss blew her mind and Soldier Boy held her chin in two fingers, stretching her throat and setting her face where he wanted. She held the pose while he backed away and stripped for her. Layer after layer of forest green and woody brown fell away and Y/N clenched her thighs tight as more muscle was revealed.

“Fuck… you’re gorgeous,” she breathed.

He smirked and spread his feet apart. “I know.” Grabbing his dick, he stroked himself slowly and nodded at her. “Now you.”

Y/N shivered and hopped down from the desk. Nervously, she tugged at the hem of her oversized periwinkle sweater and yanked it up.

Soldier Boy sucked his teeth. “No. Slowly.”

She took a breath and started again, this time lifting away the soft polyester slowly and deliberately. Next came her jeans and he hummed in lustful admiration as she tugged the acid-washed denim down her thighs.

“Very nice.”

Embolden, Y/N turned and shook her ass for him as she unhooked her bra.

“Go on…”

She tossed the garment over her shoulder.

“Keep going.”

Aching with anticipation, she slid her hands into her panties and inched them down, bending at the hips and showing him everything.

“Fucking hell…”

He was on her in a second; big hands tight on her hips, hard cock snug between her thighs. He settled there for a moment, letting her juices drip down onto his throbbing shaft. She leaned back and he scratched his fingers up her sides and scooped her tits into his warm palms.

“Fuck… your hands are so big,” she mewed.

He jerked his hips and the tip of his cock slid against her clit.

“Just my hands?”

Y/N bit her lip and wiggled against him. “Let’s find out.”

He flipped her over like it was nothing and threw her down on the edge of the desk. She spread her legs wide and he set up camp between them.

“You ready?” he asked, already lining up.

She nodded breathlessly and arched her back off the desk, begging. “Do it. Please!”

It was almost painful the way he snapped his hips into her. His thick cock spread her apart and her flesh burned at the pull. She bit back a scream when he pressed all the way in; dropped her jaw when he tugged her hips down off the desk. His blunt nails sunk into her soft curves, nearly drawing blood. She held her breath. He thrust his cock deeper inside. She lost her mind.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” It was all she could say and it amused him like nothing else.

With a grunt, Soldier Boy lifted her legs high and pushed forward, bending her in half. The new angle pushed him in so deep Y/N thought she could feel his cock tap against the base of her throat. She gagged and her eyes rolled. He laughed and dipped down to lick at her lips.

“What a good little bitch,” he teased. “Taking my cock so good.”

She moaned with each hard thrust and her tongue rolled out of her mouth. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. There was nothing but mindless, pounding pleasure and his bright green eyes.

He ran his tongue up hers and hummed. “That’s a good idea.”

In a flash, she was on her knees, swaying side to side as he stroked his cock. His fist was a blur, her eyes were white.

“Open wide.”

Y/N dropped her jaw and he slid inside.

“Suck.”

Her lips clamped down and she took a deep breath, pulling at his velvety skin. Her tongue undulated against the pulsing vein of his big cock and Soldier Boy fit his giant hand on the back of her head. He held her in place and bucked his hips, jabbing his cock down her throat. She choked on him, moaning in bliss and protest as spit spilled from the corners of her mouth and coated her tits.

“Fucking perfect,” he grit, throwing his head back and enjoying her desperate whimpers and the tightness of her throat.

Her eyes began to water and he could hear her lungs screaming for air. He set her free.

“Fuck!” Y/N wobbled on her weak knees and nearly fell to the floor.

Soldier Boy caught her quickly and set her back on her feet, bent over on the desk. Her tits smashed against the wood and he kicked her legs apart.

“You’re one hell of a PA,” he praised.

Her cunt pulsed as he ran the tip of his cock across its lips. “It’s… my… job…”

He grinned. “Sure is.” He pushed inside. “Gotta give the talent your full attention.” He slapped her ass hard. “Give them anything they want.” He grabbed the back of her neck and lifted her off of the desk, arching her spine awkwardly. “Isn’t that right?”

She moaned. “Yes!”

“Correct.”

He let her go and she fell back down, just a ragdoll for him to fuck to his satisfaction.

When he was done he slapped her ass, leaving a welt behind as a souvenir.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, already forgetting about her as he tugged his suit back on and fixed his hair.

Y/N crumbled to the floor, her legs spread wide, her back against the desk. She sat there for a long while, feeling his palm print burn on her bottom and his cum leak from her cunt. He didn’t look back as he left, didn’t even shut the door.

Soldier Boy disappeared down the hall and Y/N shook herself, wondering how the hell she’d broken her promise and let him get to her.

Not that she was mad about it.

Just sore.

#the boys fanfic #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x y/n #jacklesversebingo23 #one shot

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aestheticaltcow · 4 months ago

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Drunken Escapades Brought Us Here

The long-awaited part 2 to Drunken Escapades.

After finding out about what happened with Mikey, Carmy had to claim what was his.

Part 1

The Bear Masterlist

Carmy was upset about what had been revealed at Syd’s the other night. He didn’t say anything that would insinuate that he was upset about Mikey feeling you up nine years ago but was withdrawn.

“Hey baby, can you come by the restaurant this afternoon to help with some paperwork?” Carmy inquired that morning. He was in the middle of changing his clothes, and you could barely hear what he’d been saying as you stared at his shirtless torso, which was decorated with his simple black and grey tattoos. “Thanks.” he grinned. You swallowed softly, silently wishing he’d push you against the wall and attack your pussy with his fingers as he’d done before Syd’s get-together.

“You okay, baby?” Carmy chuckled, his words bringing you out of your daydream. “Yeah… my mind was just elsewhere. I’ll be by at like 3,” you answered. Carmy nodded and quickly closed the distance between the two of you. His palms leaned against your shared bed as he kissed your lips delicately. It was short and sweet, leaving you longing for more.

Carmy had been having a pretty average day. It wasn’t particularly busy, and everything seemed to be going smoothly enough- until Chuckie and Chi-Chi showed up to help Ebraham with the sandwich window. Richie couldn’t keep his mouth shut about you being ‘puke-girl,’ Carmy tried to ignore the snickers and loud laughter, “It’s like why Carmy got Mikey’s hand-me-downs.” “That’s fucked, asshole,” “Mikey didn’t even get laid that night,” “If she didn’t puke on him- he woulda. Guy was a fuckin’ pimp.” Carmy rolled his eyes as he overheard the conversation. He opted to make his presence known and fully walk into the kitchen. Chuckie stopped talking and awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. Chi-Chi looked everywhere except at Carmy. Richie cleared his throat and exited the kitchen to return to the front of house.

The tension in the kitchen was thick enough to cut with a cleaver. You noted it as you slipped your headphones off your head and around your neck. Syd noticed your presence and gave you a small smile before nudging her head toward the closed office door. You looked around the kitchen, noticing how Chuckie and Chi-Chi went out of their way not to look at you. “Fuckin’ Richie,” you muttered under your breath as you went to the office.

You dropped your tote bag on the floor by the door as you walked into the office, “Hi honey.” you greeted Carmy cheerfully, hoping the tension from the kitchen had stayed in there and miraculously dodged your boyfriend entirely. Your hope was immediately squashed when Carmy looked up at you briefly- no smile, no greeting, no thank you. With another eye roll, you closed the short distance between where you stood and where he sat. You stood behind Carmy and glanced at the computer monitor before resting your chin on the top of his head and letting your arms drape over his shoulders, hands settling on his chest. “Dam. I don’t even get a ‘hello’?” you scoffed. Carmy shifted in his chair, making you raise your chin off of his head to allow him to put his head back to look at you from the most unflattering angle humanly possible. “Sorry, baby… stressful day…” he excused as he pecked your chin.

“I need to finish some prep—are you good by yourself, baby?” Carmy asked as you situated yourself at the desk. You nodded swiftly and turned your attention to the open window on the monitor before you. “This shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours…” you trailed off as Carmy noted your mild annoyance. He sighed to himself before exiting the office and slipping his apron back on over his head. He tightened the waist ties around himself and heard Syd call for him.

“Yo. Are you good?” Carmy asked as he quickly walked toward Syd’s prep station. “Coffee run. You or Y/N want anything?” she asked as she removed her apron. Carmy shook his head. “Ight. I’ll be back before the staff meeting.” Syd nodded as she swiftly walked back to the lockers to grab her jacket and bag. Carmy paused and looked around the kitchen, noticing the lack of employees, “Where’d everyone go?” he questioned Syd as she adjusted the strap of her tote bag on her shoulder. She shrugged, “Break time.” she pointed over to the clock. Carmy noted the time as Syd exited the kitchen. He had at least 45 minutes before anyone came back for dinner service.

You hadn’t been working long when Carmy returned to the office. You’d shed your jacket and pulled your hair up, clipping it into a messy bun at the back of your head. Carmy grunted at the sight before him; your exposed shoulders and collarbone tantalized him. You didn’t notice him until your chair was yanked to face him. You were startled by his sudden presence. “The hell-” your words were cut off as Carmy’s lips crashed down on yours. The kiss was surprising and fueled by a hunger you didn’t expect. As Carmy’s tongue invaded your mouth, you felt his hands firmly grip your waist before pulling you out of your chair. You stumbled to your feet and fell against Carmy’s chest. He stepped backward, moving toward the tan loveseat against the wall. Carmy sat down, breaking away from the passionate lip lock. You whined as you felt his lips leave yours. Carmy looked at you hungrily, “Be my good girl, baby.”

You bit your lip and slowly nodded as Carmy’s knees spread, creating a space for you to sink into. Your hands moved to the fabric covering Carmy’s crotch. A soft sigh escaped his lips as you ran your fingers down one of his thighs. The sound made your core squeeze around nothing. Feeling empty and immensely horny, you moved your hands to the button of Carmy’s jeans. Your fingers were nimble with undoing the button and quickly pulling his zipper down. Carmy followed your league and lifted his hips to push his jeans and boxers down just enough to release his growing length. You felt your mouth salivate at the sight as your hand went to the base of his cock. You looked up at Carmy through your eyelashes longingly. Carmy looked down at you with hazy, lust-filled eyes, “You know what to do, baby.” he swallowed as you brought his tip to your lips. You giggled before gently spitting. You watched as your saliva rolled down the length of his cock to your fingers.

As you took the head of Carmy’s cock into your mouth, you slowly began sucking and tonguing the sensitive skin. You took more of him in your mouth, causing a harsh whimper to escape Carmy’s mouth. Your mouth and hand worked in tantum to get him off. The office quickly filled with Carmy’s soft, unapologetic moan. His hands moved to the back of your head. He took the clip out of your hair and grasped your hair in a makeshift bun before forcing your head down, making you gag as his cock pushed deeper into your mouth and down your throat. “Fuck, baby. You’re takin’ me so well.” he managed to get out. Carmy pulled your mouth completely off of his cock. You panted as Carmy smirked down at you. “Who does your mouth belong to, baby?” he goaded as he pulled your head farther back. You licked your lips before responding with a whimper, “You, Daddy.”

Your response went straight to Carmy’s cock; he ached to cum in your mouth, knowing he didn’t have time to cum in your tight warm cunt. He eased his grip on your hair, and you moved to take him into your mouth again. Your head bobbed up and down the tip of his cock, hitting the back of your throat with each downward stroke. With one of your hands occupied holding the base of his cock, the other moved to fumble with his balls, low muffled moans filled the room as Carmy’s orgasm approached. “Fuck.” Carmy mumbled as his grip on your hair tightened. His hips bucked slightly as his orgasm approached. You groaned as the ache between your legs grew. You wanted nothing more than for Carmy to bend you over his desk and take what belonged to him- but having him cum in your mouth was enough for now.

Globs of semen erupted down your throat as Carmy held your head still, “Oh, fuck.” Carmy grunted as his head fell back against the back of the loveseat. As the hot, salty liquid hits your taste buds, you close your eyes. As you swallowed, Carmy’s grip on your hair loosened, and you pulled your mouth away from his deflating cock. With one last soft kiss over the slit of his tip, Carmy sighed in relief. You pushed yourself up from your knees and settled on the loveseat beside Carmy. He lazily lifted his hips and pulled his boxers and pants up in one swift movement.

“What was that about?” you quizzed as you let your hand fall to Carmy’s chest before scooting yourself closer to him. Carmy paused; he snaked an arm around your waist and pulled you onto his lap before softly kissing your temple. “Richie couldn’t keep his fuckin’ mouth shut. Chi-Chi and Chucky were bein’ assholes…”

You frowned and moved a hand to Carmy’s cheek before gently nudging his face in your direction to look into his eyes lovingly, “Are you jealous about what happened with Mikey? I didn’t even have sex with him, Carm.”

Carmy groaned, “I know… I just don’t like knowing that other guys- ya know…”

You nodded understandingly, “I get it, love.”

Carmy looked at you and pouted slightly. You giggled and kissed the tip of his nose. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t like the idea of you being with other girls. You’re all mine, and no one gets to take you from me.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I love you, Carmen. We’ve been together for what five years?” Carmy nodded, and you kissed his lips softly, “You’re the only guy I want.”

#the bear #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto imagine #carmen berzatto one shot #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto smut #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto fanfiction #carmen berzatto smut #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto fluff #the bear hulu #the bear fx #the bear season 3

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macabr3-barbi3 · 8 months ago

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A Practical Demonstration (Alastor/Reader)

The deal you made with Alastor leads to an unexpected demonstration.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54229351/chapters/137324059

(ayyo I never posted the first and second chapter of this so: here we go!) Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Tags: Sex Toys; Non Sex-Repulsed Alastor; Reader-Insert

“What in the nine rings is that shit?”

“Hi, Angel,” you greet him as he came into your room, not bothering to close the door fully behind him. “As always, nice of you to knock.” You’ve got a wide spread of documents scattered across the desk, various color schemes and books on light studies and all sorts of shit that Velvette had asked you to look into for her. You don’t mind helping out where you can but you had been at this for hours, and Angel showing up unannounced was always a good way to distract you when you were trying to work.

The demon shrugs. “Eh, ya get used to it,” he says with a grin, his sharp teeth coming into view, the gold one glinting in the light from your desk. “But for real, what is that thing?” He points to your nightstand, where the rose toy you neglected to put away sat on proud display.

You flush and race across the room, throwing the toy unceremoniously back inside. “It’s really nothing,” you tell him, and when he approaches you spread your arms out to try to keep him back. “Angel, come on-”

He’s sprouted his third set of arms to reach around you, opening the drawer and pulling your newest gift out from the top. “Come on now, ya don’t gotta be ashamed if it's a sex thing!” He lets it sit in his hand as he poses with the rest of his arms, blinking coyly at you in his new position. “I basically am a sex thing, baby, it don’t bother me none!” He holds it up to inspect, and when he brings it a little too close to his face you drag his arm back away. “Where’d ya get this thing?”

It was a gift from Velvette, something new that Vox and Valentino had created together that your friend had felt compelled to shove into your hands one day. “Keep it on the low, yeah?” She had said, an eyebrow raised and a cocky smirk on her face. “New product, can’t be lettin’ it get in the wrong hands but Satan knows ya ain’t gettin’ any action in that rickety joint of yours.” You had blushed and stammered and protested but ultimately had taken the damn thing, placing it on the nightstand in your room when you returned that day and not touching it beyond the one time you turned it on- just out of curiosity- and saw the force of the suction that it could generate.

“Velvette gave it to me, and it’s a sex toy,” you tell him, and he gives you a knowing look.

“Ahh, she’s still tryna get ya laid, huh?” You close your eyes and give him a tight nod. “She still doesn’t know about your thing for tall and freaky?”

You slam your hands over his mouth, eyes darting to the partially open door, not noticing the shadow that slipped into the room mere moments before. “Angel! Shut up!”

“Whaaaat?” He complains, pulling your hands away from his mouth. “It’s not like it’s a secret- pretty much everyone knows except the Strawberry Pimp himself, and-”

“And,” you interrupt him, taking the toy from his hands and throwing it back into the nightstand, “I would like to keep it that way. And don’t call him that,” you add as an afterthought.

Angel groans as he started walking away. “Spoilsport,” he calls over his shoulder. “Ya never let me have any fun.” He exits the room and purposely leaves the door fully open this time, and with an eye roll you follow him, sure that Charlie and Vaggie have dinner ready by now.

Alastor is there when you stroll into the dining room, his customary smile in place as he looks at the two of you. “Evening, friends!” He greets you, and you give him a smile back. “I’ve saved a seat for you, my dear,” he says, and pulls out the chair to the right of the one he normally sits in.

Your face flushes, and Angel snickers beside you as he goes around the table to sit by Husk. “You don’t have to do that, Alastor,” you tell him, and his grin sharpens dangerously.

“But of course I do,” he says smoothly, quietly, fanning out his napkin to sit across his lap as he sits. “What would dear Velvette think if she knew we weren’t getting along?”

Your spine stiffens, and a glance around the room confirms that no one else had heard him. It was the only point of contention between the two of you, really, the deal that you had made with him to keep Velvette safe from the insanity of the other Vees.

He owned your soul, and any of your knowledge of the more recent aspects of technology on Earth that could potentially help him in taking down Vox. In return, he would not specifically target Velvette when the final confrontation with the Vees took place, content with simply obliterating Vox and Valentino- provided that Velvette did not take any actions directly against him.

Velvette knew about your deal and the part you played in ensuring that when the Vees fell she would not be part of the carnage. They had thrown her under the bus not long before you came to the hotel, placing the blame for a series of footage and info leaks on her social media platforms, and she was more than happy to let someone else seek her revenge for her. She kept the benefits of working with the Vees- ‘no harm done,’ she had told them- and had the extra reassurance that when they fell she would remain on top. She knew you seemed happy enough to work with Alastor when he asked it of you, and was pleased that the deal didn’t seem to be a hardship on you.

He didn’t often use that against you like this though, like her safety was a bargaining chip that went hand in hand with his personal happiness or mood. You hadn’t even said anything bad! Just that he hadn’t needed to save you a seat beside him. You were thrilled, honestly, and just mostly nervous about him catching one of your looks or blushes when you watched him too closely.

You gave him a smile regardless. “Right. I appreciate the gesture then,” you say, and don’t see the way that his grin extends as he watches you sit and start reaching for the food laid out on the table.

Dinner is a strange affair. Throughout the night Alastor seems to keep finding excuses to turn his attention to you, only to harshly refute or ignore what you say in response. His leg is twitchy under the table and keeps knocking against yours, to the point that you turn essentially sideways in your seat to stop it from happening and talk to Vaggie and Charlie instead. At the end of the meal you walk yourself to your room slowly, tired beyond belief, confused and a bit hurt by Alastor’s behavior.

To your surprise, the Radio Demon is in your room when you close the door behind you. You startle a bit, not expecting him, and at the sound he looks up from where he sits at your desk, the documents you had for Velvette organized into a neat stack. “Hello, my dear!” He says, and rises from the chair to approach you. You look to the floor, not wanting him to see the hurt you’re sure is reflected there, but he places a sharp tipped finger under your chin and raises your head to look at him. His smile is softer, his eyes lowered a bit as he gazes down at you.

“I want to apologize for my behavior at dinner,” he says, and you heave a relieved exhale. “Upon reflection I do see that my manners were abysmal, and there was no need to treat you in such a fashion.”

“It’s okay, sir,” you say, but when you start to take a step back more of his fingers come up to grip your face, holding you in place. “Um-”

“Ah ah ah,” he admonishes. “I wasn’t finished. In addition to my apology, I did have a query for you in regards to our deal.”

“Of course,” you tell him, and your heart has started beating a bit harder in your chest now with the way he’s looking at you. It’s impossible to tell when he’s angry with the smile most of the time, but his expression is even more unreadable now than it usually is. “What is it?”

He pauses for a moment. “Is there any form of technology that you are uncomfortable with the thought of showing or demonstrating for me?”

You blink slowly a couple times, the way you’ve seen Lucifer do when he doesn’t understand something that someone has said to him. “Uh. No, sir, I don’t think so.” Part of your ‘job description,’ as Alastor put it, was sometimes showing him non-television style technology and demonstrating its uses for him. You had gone over flip phones, Walkman's, CD players, pagers, and more recently some small tablets and compact computers. Digital cameras were out of the question, as were actual televisions whether they be old or new.

He didn’t like any of them, would have rather not bothered with the whole idea by his own admission. But he felt it necessary to understand what he could about the things that gave Vox so much power over people, and being the most recently dead at the Hotel you had the most up-to-date information. You were also one of the few who didn’t begrudge Alastor his preference for older tech- you had died while AI was a big thing on Earth, and that had freaked you out enough at times that you could appreciate hardwiring that didn’t talk back to you unprompted. Usually he stood a few feet away, far enough back that he could still watch without interrupting any frequencies, and allowed you to walk him through the various uses of the device.

“Lovely!” He says at your response, and then straightens up and crosses the room towards your bed of all places. “Now, I noticed at dinner that you’ve seemed quite out of sorts lately. Are you getting enough rest?”

What?

“Yes, sir, I think so,” you tell him, eying him warily. “I’ve been doing a lot of studying for Velvette to help with her shoots- light composition and all that, but-“

He makes a noise at you, something that sounds like an admonishment. “Come now,” he says, “you mustn’t be neglecting your beauty sleep for a Vee, even if she is the most tolerable of the lot!” He takes a seat on your bed- what? - and gently pats the pillow at the head. “In you go, my dear. I can’t have my little assistant lacking.”

You raise your eyebrows but decide not to argue on the matter. He’s been in a weird mood all night, and you really are quite tired at this point. You approach cautiously, climbing into bed the opposite side of where he sits. “If you say so, Alastor.” You lay back against the pillow, not bothering yet to get under the covers. “I’ll see you in the morning?” You glance towards the door, hoping that he will rise and leave you.

“Hahaha!” He laughs instead, rotating his body so that he can face you more fully. ‘No, I think not my dear! I’ll stay to make sure you get some proper shut-eye.”

Your heart beats faster. No way would you be able to actually sleep with him in the room. “That’s really okay,” you try to tell him, but when you sit up he places a hand gently on your shoulder and guides you back down to the pillow.

“Naughty girl,” he admonishes, and the words send a rush of heat across your face. “I truly insist! You rest up, and I’ll be right here to ensure that you do!”

“Oookay,” you finally agree, and lean back against the pillows stiffly. It's torture for a long few minutes, where you try to regulate your breathing and not focus on the fact that he’s so close to you, in your bed. Eventually though, despite your heartbeat in your throat, you do start to relax a bit.

“Hmmm.” Alastor hums where he sits in the bed next to you, and while his smile is, of course, still present, his eyes have a kind of far off look in them.

“Alastor? Is everything okay?”

“Oh, quite alright!” He says in his typical fashion. “But I must admit I find myself rather curious about something, and I was hoping you could help me gain some enlightenment.”

“Sure; however I can help.”

“Splendid!” He claps his hands together. Your nightstand is enveloped in shadows, and when it re-emerges your rose toy sits front and center on top. You choke on your spit a bit, sputtering as Alastor looks at you. “I heard you mention to Angel Dust that this is a ‘sex toy’ earlier, but you didn’t go into any further detail! What exactly is the function of such a thing?”

You were going to drop double dead right here in your bedroom, with Alastor sitting atop your sheets and looking curiously between you and the toy. “Oh God, uh…” He raises an eyebrow, prompting you to continue, but you can’t seem to find the words. “Shit, um, that’s not really- it’s kinda a private thing,” you sputter out, but he just continues to smile at you as you attempt to sink through the bed, through the floor, into a special kind of Hell reserved for moments as awkward as this one.

“I confess, my dear, a contribution to my terrible manners earlier stemmed from the idea that you might be holding back information.” He plucked the small device off the night stand and turned it this way and that in his hand. “When I thought about how you mentioned to Angel that it was a ‘sex toy,’ though, I realized that we had never established any sort of boundary as far as what kinds of technology you would show me per the confines of our deal!” He placed a hand to his forehead, an exaggerated face palm. “Which was quite silly of me, of course.”

You were going to stop breathing.

“Naturally I wouldn't want to make you do anything that would make you uncomfortable,” he continued, tucking the hand not holding the intimate technology under his chin to look at you thoughtfully. “And really, I doubt this is any kind of device that could do any true damage in the coming battle between myself and Vox. But one can never be too sure!”

He holds it out to you, and though you take it with trembling hands you are still trying to explain. “Sir- Alastor - this is very much not the kind of technology that you would be interested in.”

“Oh but I am!” He assures you, and he sits cross legged now beside you. “I am quite interested in learning more about such a strange device. And did you not say that there was no technology that you were uncomfortable with demonstrating?”

“Well, yes, but-”

“And- pardon my eavesdropping, of course- did you not also tell Angel Dust that you received the device from Velvette, a known ally of my personal enemy and a demon bent on destroying me?”

You close your eyes tightly. This was too much. “Yes, I did. But-”

He makes a noise at you, like a parent would to an unruly child. “Well now, how am I to know that the device was not planted on Velvette by the others? Not merely a gift to a friend but something orchestrated by Vox to destroy me and everything I care for?” He reaches out a hand, brushing his fingers against your cheek. “I would so hate to see you harmed, my dear. Will you not show me how it works to ease my worried thoughts?”

Your breath is stuck in your throat as you swallow hard. You… suppose he raised a valid point, as awkward as you felt about it. You knew that despite your deal he felt some apprehension about allowing you to spend so much time with Velvette, even with what you were providing him with in return. If this was what it would take to ease some of the tension in his mind…

“I… okay,” you said finally on an exhale, and looked back down at the toy. Your voice trembled as you held it up for him to see. “Do you… I mean, usually you stand a little ways away, sir.”

His grin stretches up his face, eyes glowing red as he watches you fiddle with the object in your hand. “Oh no, darling, I’m quite content right here.”

“Right.” The blush on your face nearly permanent at this point, you rotate the device so that you can reach the button on the side. “There’s this little, um, button on the side to turn it on.” you press the button and the noise immediately starts, subtle but all too loud in the space between you and Alastor. Your cheeks are burning. “There are a few different uh, strength settings. For the. Suction.” The smile on Alastor’s face is etched in stone, and he leans closer to you as you cycle through the different speed settings. You can’t look at him anymore, dropping your eyes into your lap as you hold up the toy. “Next, uh…”

“What is the suction for, dear?”

When you look up you nearly jump back in shock; he’s moved even closer, his face right in front of yours when you’ve brought it up. “I- what?”

He places his hand over yours on the rose. “The suction. Whatever could it be for?” You try to lean back and he follows you, bent nearly in half as he does. “You could use-”

“No!” You push the toy into his hands, desperate for escape from this situation, but his smile doesn’t waver. “I mean, not no no, but- you don’t want to see that-”

“My dear.” He sets the device to the side, using one of his hands to bring your face up to look at him. He comes even closer, essentially crawling across the bed and hovering over you- what the fuck what the fuck- while you do your best to sink into the pillow. “As entertaining as it is to see you so flustered, I truly was looking for a more practical demonstration. Won’t you show me?”

If your heart flutters any harder it will burst from your chest. But he’s being so insistent that he doesn’t mind the nature of the device and that he wants an actual showing of how it’s used. You take a deep, shaky breath and commit to it- he’s asked, and you’ll indulge Alastor anything he asks of you. You reach to the side of him and take hold of the toy. “I haven’t, uh. Used it before,” you tell him.

His eyes flash red and the smile stretches as he leans back the slightest bit. “No time like the present then!” He chirps, the static in his voice more pronounced that it had been thus far. When you move your hand to your waistband you hesitate, but his eyes zero in on the movement. “By all means,” he says, “don’t stop on my account.”

Another deep breath and you clench your eyes shut, not able to make eye contact with him as you remove your bottoms. With your eyes closed you don’t see the way that his widen; so focused on your own breathing that you don’t notice his sharp inhale at your movements as you settle back into the mattress. You keep your eyes closed as you bring the toy to your lower body, debate for a moment, and decide to position it before switching it on.

You’re hyperaware of Alastor’s gaze on you even without being able to see it. Your hands tremble as you place the small gap in the top over your clit, spreading your legs slightly for a better angle. A hand on your thigh makes your eyes fly open, and when you make eye contact with Alastor you clench them shut again, unable to do this knowing that he’s touching you-

Without realizing, your hands have tightened their grip on the toy and pressed the button to turn it onto the lowest suction strength. The sudden strong sucking on your most sensitive spot has a harsh moan tumbling from your lips, your head tossing back into the pillow and Alastor’s fingers tightening imperceptibly on your skin, claws digging in ever so slightly. It's so much and so sudden, almost overwhelming, and you’re not sure if you should curse Velvette or send her a gift basket.

“What does it feel like?” The static is gone from Alastor’s voice, and when you find the strength to open your eyes he’s much closer to your… demonstration than you would have expected him to be. Close enough to taste, not that he would, but the thought of it alone has your hips lifting from the bed, desperate for more that you know he won’t give you.

“It’s so- ugh, fuck,” is what you manage, and his eyes are hooded and focused so intently on you. You hope that this is giving him whatever information he was hoping to gather, because there was no way in any of the nine rings of Hell that you would ever be able to look him in the eyes again after this.

“Eloquent, darling,” he says, still no static to the words, and then his spare hand is placed over yours on the rose toy and jumping the suction up by a couple levels.

Another unbidden moan rips itself from your chest, your free hand clenching the sheets on the bed as Alastor holds your other to the toy on your clit. You’re soaked by this point, arousal dripping onto the sheets below you, and you’re so close already without the added stimulation of the harsher suction. “Fuck fuck fuck, God,” you get out between your panting, and his chuckle brings your gaze back to him, not realizing that your eyes had rolled back as you rode the waves of pleasure.

His other hand, the one that had been on your thigh, is now posed by your entrance, his glove discarded somewhere on the bed and his fingers mere centimeters away from where you suddenly, desperately want them to be. “There’s no God here, my dear,” he says darkly, “but perhaps I can be persuaded to worship you instead.” The suction increases again, his pressing of the button subtle, but it's too much, too much-

Your vision goes dark with the strength of your orgasm, the coil in your stomach snapping as you arch up with a drawn out gasp of his name. There’s static in the room, drowning out the sound of your cries as you ride through your release, and you can just barely see Alastor through your half-closed eyes, his own eyes lidded and his pupils blown wide as his smile is stretched as far as the sudden green stitches would allow.

He holds down on the power button to turn the device off, pulling it- and his hands- away from your body. You allow your eyes to drift shut, breathing heavily as you lay back into the pillows. You can hear the vague sounds of something moving around, your nightstand opening and closing though the space on the bed is still dipped down from his weight. You’re trying to gather the strength to say something, to explain yourself maybe- because how could you let yourself get so far gone that you said his name mid-orgasm, Jesus- when the dip in the mattress disappears.

“Well, that was quite enlightening!” You hear him say, and when you drag your eyes open he’s standing on the other side of the bed, his expression totally normal aside from the permanent smile. “I do so appreciate your compliance, my dear, in helping to ease my mind about such a strange device.”

“I- yeah, sure,” you manage to get out without stuttering too much, and how composed he is now, while you are still half naked and heaving from your release, has your face flaming. “Anytime. Happy to help.”

His eyes lower. “Funny you should say that! I did notice a few more devices in your drawer- were these items gifts from Velvette as well?”

You had forgotten about the variety of other toys you kept near your bed, and your blush renews, your face hot at the thought of what he had seen. “No, sir,” you tell him, and he makes a little humming noise similar to the one he had earlier.

You think about how his pupils had been so dilated, his fingers poised and ready to join the fray while you used the toy, and add as an afterthought- “Some of them are uh, VoxTech brand though.” You hoped you weren’t wrong, and the positively lecherous look that his smile takes on confirms it for you.

“How interesting!” he exclaims. “I suppose there may be other demonstrations in order then, hm? After all, it never hurts to be thorough!” He holds a hand out to you and you place your own into it, allowing him to bring it to his lips for a soft kiss. “And I do plan on being quite thorough, darling. I hope we can find the time to reconvene soon- in the meantime, sweet dreams.”

With that he melts into shadows and vanishes, and no sooner than the black puddle on the floor disappeared have you whipped your phone out of the pocket of your discarded bottoms. You text Velvette first, a series of emojis that she has no hope of deciphering- her response of ‘TF r u on about???’ confirming that thought- and then Angel, asking for recommendations before pulling up the VoxTech website and taking a look at the options you don’t currently have in your drawer.

Like Alastor said- it doesn’t hurt to be thorough!

#hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor smut #x reader #to quote the tag from ao3 #jfc what is wrong with me #my stuff <3

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martialartslover7 · 2 months ago

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Headcanon time: I feel like, the Blank Period after Shippuden was kind of a missed opportunity, in my eyes. Look, I get that everything needed to wrap up, but... seriously? We don't even get an emotional, on-screen scenario where Naruto finally becomes Hokage? Maybe after months of him forcing himself to suffer through these accursed Chunin exams (because bureaucracy fucking sucks, but, it is what it is), getting promoted to Jonin, before he can even HOPE to apply as Hokage?

(Image belongs to Ammitastic on DeviantArt)

Another thing, in the Blank Period, I don't care what anyone else tells me, Neji Hyuga, the GOAT, deserved to live, he did not deserve to die so disgracefully in the war, being turned into a wooden pimp cushion. Hence, I will not ever canonically acknowledge his passing.

You know what passing I WILL accept though, in my mind? Hiashi Hyuga. That piece of work actually deserved to go out like that, after everything he did to Hinata, her cousin and her sister (this is a can of worms I will open up another time). And because of his death, the Hyuga clan is left without a leader during the Blank Period. It would have given Hinata something to do, to actually participate in the process, along with Neji, on how they will be resolving this problem with the leadership question, mending the bridges with Hanabi too, outside of just being immediately reduced to a birthing machine. And don't get me wrong, I don't mind Naruto and Hinata getting busy (*wink*), they deserve it, but, the way it was shown off in the anime, came in such a jarring and abrupt way, I thought they would actually give it some time first, because, being an adult, is coming with a lot of unique difficulties, that need to be discussed first. I would have enjoyed some of that "being adults suck" point being discussed from Naruto's and Hinata's POV.

Like, before even having Boruto and Himawari, they could have just settled on enjoying life together for a few years, before the true stress with their jobs and children begin. They are not their families, they should be smarter about this.

Plus, this point is more of a stretch on my end, but, the anime talked about the "Madara Crisis" of sorts, where loyal, mentally ill followers of Madara demanded for the Infinite Tsukuyomi to return, which translated to me, only means: A Madara Crisis story. Like, it's not just nameless NPCs that are affected by this, but also specific shinobi that Naruto & Friends met, in the course of their lives. The Dead Rising geek leaves my body here. For real, imagine, some shinobi, like for instance, Kakashi (in my AU, Guy died fighting Madara, I really don't care what people try to tell me, him getting saved at the last minute just cheapened everything about his violent assault on Madara, sorry, I love Guy too, but if he died, he would have truly become a legend, think of it that way, it's sad, but a far more fitting end to his character), Hanabi, Shino, Tsunade, etc. being hit the worst by this Madara influence, where they would also join these followers, just wanting the emotional scars to close up, as some wounds just never heal, no matter how much time passes, and the 4th Shinobi war also contributed to their problems and emotional states. And they, in the context of a Dead Rising scenario, become Psychopath boss fights, except that, unlike there, you don't kill them. This saga would have given so many side characters a chance to take the lead for a change, and show off, how much progress they had made, coming over from the 4th war, to the Blank Period. I will just leave this here.

That's all for now.

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ask-noelgruber · 3 months ago

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Do you believe that In your life, you was Noel Gruber who worked at Taco Bell

In Uranium City, Saskatchewan

But, your my dreams, you played a different role

You was Monique Gibeau in post-war France

A hooker with a heart of black charcoal

You wrote poems to burn by firelight

Drink champagne and guzzle gin

Good girls call you "The Town Bicycle"

Don't knock it 'til you've tried my life of sin

Oh, Claude, my pimp, knows never mess with me

Last prick did that faded quick to black

I have no idea where to find him, officers

But if you do, please mention that I'd like to have returned

The pretty knife that I stuck ten times in his back

For I sing songs until the break of dawn

I embrace a new man every night

My life's one never-ending carnival

A whirl of boozy-floozy flashing light

I want to be that fucked-up girl

He said, "I think I am in love with you"

I've heard that lie a million times before

Oh, tonight I give in to the fantasy

Take love when you can, when you're a whore

For I sing songs until the break of dawn

I embrace a new man every night

My life's one never-ending carnival

A whirl of boozy-floozy flashing light

I want to be that fucked-up girl

So now I sell my love for opium

In some rat-infested Chinese dive

At night, I burn myself with cigarettes

Just to somehow prove I'm still alive

Eight months later, I catch typhoid flu

Kicked out, I see the ugly light of day

Dying in an alley, a priest kneels down to me

"My child, do you have any final words to the Lord you'd like to say?"

"Oui, tell him that, like him, I choose to burn out rather than fade away!"

For I sing songs until the break of dawn

I embrace a new man every night

My life's one never-ending carnival

A whirl of boozy-floozy flashing light

For I sing songs until the break of dawn

I embrace a new man every night

My life's one never-ending carnival

A whirl of boozy-floozy flashing light

I want to be that fucked-up girl

I wanna be that fucked-up girl

Broken heart, a flask of gin

Tattooed with a safety pin

Teeth all stained with nicotine

Running nylons, shattered dreams

Super crusty, holy terror

Wild eyes and black mascara

Broken heart, a flask of gin

Tattooed with a safety pin

Teeth all stained with nicotine

Running nylons, shattered dreams

Super crusty, holy terror

Wild eyes and black mascara

If I could have just one dream

(If he could have just one dream)

I'd be that fucked-up girl!

Hey!

#rtc noel #ride the cyclone #monique gibeau

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moonyswife · 1 year ago

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SPRING BREEZE

MASTERLIST

SPRING BREEZE PART 1

Remus Lupin x Sirius Sister!Fem!Reader

Summary: Remus has an unbearable crush on his best friend's sister. “he was sure he was bound to her every life he’s lived, and he’ll look for her in every life from now on, because in this life he just got blessed with her.”

Warnings: None

G: Fluff, absolutely whipped Remus, friends (kinda) to lovers.

Length: 1,06k

NOT proofread.

------------

As the late spring breeze sweeped into the open windows of the library Remus couldn't help but notice the way her hair moved with it, at least the little ones that weren't braided, the two brunette braids sat nicely on her shoulders dressed with her uniform and her house’s robes, she was too focused on her essay to even notice the small disturbance on her scalp, eyebrows furrowed, quill fiercely working on her paper sheet, Remus couldn't look but he was sure she was bouncing her left leg.

´Stop gawking at my sister, moony. I'm sure if you go say hi, she'll be more than pleased.´ As soon as Sirius words reached remus ears he couldn't help but groan, his best mate Sirius Black always had a way to annoy him, ‘I was not gawking at your sister’,Remus blushed slightly, he was indeed staring profusely at his sister, he always was, if she was in a room he’d know, and somehow he’d find a way to be near her, like a moth attracted to the shining lights. ‘Alright, but mate you can’t deny the way you look at her, can’t really blame you she’s a Black, not me, but a Black’ the one to groan now was James ‘We are not talking about you, pads, we need to find a way to match you and y/n together!’ ‘While I agree you should get it together Moons, let’s not let prongs play matchmaker, he’s awful.’ Peter chips in little in conversations, but his rare voice of reason it’s always needed. Now an overwhelmed Remus tries to end the weird conversation surrounding his life, ‘Guys do not, I was just thinking, not staring at anyone. We need to focus on our homework’ ‘Cut the crap moony, you’re obsessed with my sister.’

Remus would’ve never expected the outcome of a studying sesion with his friends to end up in them making a plan for him to snog a girl. As he was starting to get really annoyed with them he looked up and made eye contact with the live image of his dreams, Y/n Black. His face failed him, he started smiling like a fool, surprisingly (not really, you’ve talked a lot of times, you would consider each other acquaintances) you smiled back and waved quickly returning to your work. ‘Moony! pay attention!’ you’d never know James was this bosy unless you’re coming up with stupid plans or pranks, ‘You know what? I’m getting tired of you, I came here to study and get some work done, not to make a stupid plan’ his three friends looked around sheepishly, ‘Sorry mate, we’re just trying to hook you up with my sister, maybe i could get a favour in return’ Sirius says as he winks pointing at his homework, ‘Do whatever you want, i don’t care, I’ll go study somewhere else’ kinda annoyed kinda mad Remus picks up his things as he heads for the door. ‘And don’t pimp out your siblings,Sirius’.

The annoying breeze was making y/n more cold than normal, she could barely focus on her essay for professor Flitwick, she could’ve stayed in her common room with her friends, but no damn her heart, she came to the library to follow her stupid heart, to see her stupid crush and to have to bear with her stupid brother who was most likely mocking her, after all she was a schoolgirl with a crush on her older (barely a year) brother´s mate, pathetic, that’s how she felt, she was pathetically sitting alone on the library, pathetic was the way her heart skipped a beat when he smiled at her, pathetic was the way he didn’t wave back. She was done embarrassing herself, as she started gathering her stuff to finally go cry it out in her bed, a small voice interrupted her hate thoughts. ‘All done?’ honey slipped out of Remus's mouth whenever he talked, she was sure of it, ‘Mmh not really, was getting a bit chilly, though, did you finish your homework with the guys?’ barely getting it out, fighting the urge to gauge her eyes out of embarrassment. She has talked with many times before, not much lately, her crush on him has been growing bigger and bigger until it smashes her frontal cortex completely.

Remus’s hands were clammy, there he stood awkwardly, desperately trying not to faint at the sight of her soft gray eyes, the confidence he quickly got to go talk to her, quickly left, ‘No, they’re daft, not really the ones to help with getting homework done’, she giggled, she didn’t really find it funny, she’s just nervous, ‘do you wanna finish your essay as I finish my homework?’ Remus cursed himself, why? why? why? his whole brain seemed to be jell-o when she’s near him, ‘well I don’t think there’s more I can do, but maybe…’ the confidence facade crumbling down, ‘maybe what?’ ‘maybe we could hang out, catch up, we haven’t really talked in a while’ that was mostly true, they were always kind of close, they used to hang out a lot actually, but since their feelings took over them, they’ve been less close than normal. ‘yes!’ he barely allowed her the chance to finish the sentence, he almost regretted it, until she blessed him with her blinding smile, he would give anything to see her wide smile every day of his life, she held her hand out for him to grab, ‘Let’s go, Rem’.

Her (hand) was the most precious thing Remus Lupin has ever held and will ever hold, following her blindly, letting her take him wherever she wanted, all he could do was look at her and wonder how did the sun managed to take human form, he was sure he was bound to her every life he’s lived, and he’ll look for her in every life from now on, because in this life he just got blessed with her. Heart racing, flushed cheeks from both of them, she kept stealing little glances at him to check if he was still there. he was. When Remus was busy imagining what it would be like to spend a lifetime with her, she stopped, the courtyard, that’s where they were, not in their shared apartment with four cats and thirty, and he was so happy she wasn’t a legilimens.

#remus lupin #marauders #remus lupin x reader #remus x y/n #remus x you #remus lupin x you #the marauders #themarauders #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin imagine #sirius black #james potter #peter pettigrew

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radiant-reid · 2 years ago

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An Out of The Ordinary Meeting

Summary: Derek sets Spencer up with a friend of his... an ex-girlfriend, who also knows another member of the BAU personally

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (fluff)

Content Warning: couple of suggestive comments

Word Count: 2.5k

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Since Spencer confided in Elle about his struggles to get a date, she has been a little worried about him. After three years, he has roots in DC and is an eligible candidate for a girlfriend. Even if he's not saying anything, she can tell he wishes he had someone, someone to talk to and spend time with.

So, like any good friend, she hates a plan with someone with a lot of dating experience. "We need to get Reid a girlfriend." She tells Morgan.

"What, he can't do it himself?" Morgan asks.

Elle glares at him but answers honestly. "No, I don't think he can."

"Exactly." He says. "How could I possibly help him? You've got to admit he's awkward with girls." She nods in agreement. She had seen it before. Even if he wasn't interested in dating them, he couldn't talk to them. "He's uncoachable."

She shakes her head, trying a different strategy. "Surely you know someone who would date him."

"Yeah, maybe, but I'd have to whisper in his ear what to say." He disagrees. "And I do not want to be doing that at the end of the night if you know what I mean."

Unfortunately, she did know, and she didn't like that. "Yuck!" She exclaims, but she spots a reinforcement. "Garcia." She calls their friend over.

"No, no, no." Morgan shakes his head.

"What's wrong?" Elle teases as Penelope joins them.

"You're playing dirty getting my baby girl involved." Morgan answers.

Penelope frowns at both of them. "Involved in what?"

"Reid's dating life." Elle says, determined to talk first to get her point across. "He needs to meet someone and Derek is refusing to help."

"I practice charity in other ways." Morgan defends himself, promptly getting jabbed in the ribs by Penelope. "Ouch."

She scowls at him. "You need to help him out." She instructs him. "He might be awkward but he's sweet and he deserves to have someone great. Introduce him to someone, although you should tell me her name first so I can double-check."

If Morgan thought he was losing to Elle, he knows he's got no chance of opting out if they're both in agreement. "Alright, fine. I might know someone." He concedes. "Not sure she'll even agree, though."

"Oh, there's a story there." Penelope, although not a profiler, catches his tone.

Morgan sits down at his desk, sighing. "Yes, there is."

One of the last people Y/n is expecting to get a call from one random Tuesday night is Derek Morgan, but she answers, feeling more worry than she feels bothered. He wouldn't call unless something had happened, which is probably the only reason she kept his number. "Hey, Derek." She says, crossing her legs where she sits on the couch.

"Y/n, hi." He replies. "How are you?"

It's not what she was expecting him to ask. "Good. Is this an annual booty call?" She wonders playfully. There's no bad blood, but they didn't stay friends after the breakup.

"It's not." He assures her before adding a typical Derek Morgan line. "Unless you want it to be."

She scoffs, shaking her head even though he can't see. "Nope, sorry, D. Why'd you call?"

"I need a favor." He tells her.

"For me to sleep with you?" She wonders, both of them laughing.

"For you to sleep with someone else." He says. "Eventually."

She frowns at what he's saying, unsure about what his game is. "Like you're a pimp?"

"Like I'm cupid." He returns quickly. "I'm trying to find you your soulmate."

She laughs slightly at his offer. "That's an awful lot for my ex-boyfriend to be doing for me."

"I promise there's no other game here," Derek says, and she's inclined to believe him. "He's a good guy, smart, respectful, heroic."

"I usually go for gym-loving black belts with muscles for days." She jokes. "He sounds maybe more like your type."

He laughs at that, shaking his head. "So you'll go out with him?" He asks hopefully. He hears her sigh through the phone. "One date, and if he's the worst date ever, I'll stay out of your love life. And when you get married, I want to be the best man."

"Whoa, slow your roll, cowboy." She stops him. "I'll agree to meet him, but I really don't think you should be meddling in my love life."

He chuckles. "It's a little unconventional." He agrees. "Also, you know I'm a Bears fan."

It's hard to forget. "Chicago through and through."

"Tuesday night, I'll text you where." He tells her. "Wear something sexy."

"Derek Morgan-"

"Bye."

Her growling gets cut off by his farewell, and she knows he hung up smirking.

She’s not sure why she agrees, but she has time to think about it over the next few days. Maybe it’s because she wanted an excuse to get out of HITT with her colleagues. If it is Derek, and she’s 50% sure it’s going to be, she can make him pay for a delicious lobster dinner, flirt with him, and leave him hanging, and if it’s not… well, she just hopes Derek’s friends are hot, then the evening might have a fun ending.

He’s picked an upscale restaurant- somewhere she wouldn’t pick if she had to foot the bill entirely- and she’s glad she put on fancier make up after work as well as pulling out a new dress, figuring it might as well get some wear.

“Derek Morgan for two.” She tells the hostess. “Or maybe Y/n L/n?”

“It’s under Derek Morgan.” She informs her, slipping out from behind the desk to guide her to the table. “You’re the first to arrive.”

She’s early but being late is a Morgan move. Like the time in college when he left her in the library for an extra two hours while he was doing whatever he was doing- his hair, she had guessed- for their date. Karma got him when he failed the test she spent the time studying for.

Their table is by the window of the restaurant where she can see out at the Potomac and the setting sun. Between that and picking out a cocktail, she doesn’t notice someone’s in front of her until he clears his throat.

It is not Derek Morgan.

He's about as different from Derek as it gets.

The differences are physical, and almost nothing about them lines up, but it's how they carry themselves, too. Whoever this is isn't half as confident as Derek.

He's dressed in a suit, expensive and probably Italian. The deep blue suits him well, and between his cheekbones and styled hair, he’s gorgeous.

"I'm S-Spencer- Doctor Spencer, uh, Reid." He introduces himself with as much gaucheness as he can muster. Something about it is endearing. "You don't have to call me Doctor. Or Reid, just- just Spencer works."

She rises to shake his hand. "I'm Y/n L/n." She introduces herself. "Derek didn't tell me you'd be so cute."

And he blushes, a bright red hue filling his cheeks at the compliment. It's almost cuter than the little smile he first gave her. He clears his throat, frantically searching for what to say. "Th-thank you."

"Sit, if you like." Y/n offers, realizing he's far too timid to take control of the situation.

He's much different than anyone she's ever been on a date with, totally opposing her strong, confident type. But it's yet to work out with one of them, so she figures she should give Spencer a chance.

And he's funny. With some wine in him, he's less awkward and more comfortable cracking jokes and telling stories. He's trying to impress her, not just expecting her to be impressed by his long list of degrees and achievements. He asks all the right questions, talking about himself the right amount. She can't find anything that's a reason not to like him.

Spencer pays for dinner without a second thought, slipping his card into the bill without looking at the total. It's not sinister or with expectations of where the evening's going.

"You know I don't usually do this," Y/n says once they're back outside. "But is there any chance you're in the mood for coffee back at my place?" She offers.

He doesn't catch the implication. "Yeah, I like coffee."

They have coffee that night...and the following morning.

She's glad she followed Derek's instructions and wore something sexy. Just seeing the look in Spencer's eyes when her dress slid off, revealing deep red lingerie, was worth it.

He didn't get any less sweet during their evening together, inexperienced and nervous but so willing to please. It was perfect.

Spencer left early the next morning to get to Quantico on time, not without them exchanging numbers and ways they knew Derek. Spencer tried to keep his reaction neutral, but he didn't expect her to be his friend's ex-girlfriend.

"Why did you tell me?" He demands when sees Derek sitting at his desk, interrupting the chatter between Derek, Garcia, and Elle rudely.

"Tell you what?" Morgan asks confused, spinning back in his chair.

Spencer glares at him. "That Y/n, who you set me up with, is your ex-girlfriend." Truthfully, he's mad about it. How does he stand a chance when she dated someone like Derek Morgan?

Garcia's mouth drops open as Elle's eyes widen. "No, you didn't!" Garcia says in horror, like he's committed a crime.

And maybe it is a crime against Bro-code, although usually, the rule is against dating your friend's ex-girlfriends, not against setting your ex-girlfriend up with your friend.

Either way, it's complicated.

Elle jumps in with Garcia's scolding. "Derek, come on!"

"Hey, hey, hey." He holds his hands up in defense when he's listened to them telling him off for long enough. "It clearly wasn't a problem."

Spencer frowns as the girls do, but he's more concerned than confused. "Wh-what? Why do you say that?" He splutters out quickly, voice getting squeaky and his cheeks going bright red.

"Come on!" Derek complains. "He's wearing the same thing he wore yesterday. He just put a cardigan over top of it."

Guilty.

He's been caught red-handed, and he doesn't know what to do besides awkwardly standing there, realizing they all know he got lucky last night.

"That's... that's beside the point," Spencer says quietly, chewing on his bottom lip.

Derek laughs loudly, shaking his head while the girls tease him. "You should be thanking me, man." He reminds his friend.

Spencer is thankful and so damn grateful. He's never had a connection with someone- intellectually, romantically, sexually- like he has with Y/n.

"Thank you." He whispers quietly before taking a seat at his desk.

Elle has one last serious question. "How do you know her, Morgan?"

"College," Morgan answers briefly. "But all I'll say is I'm not the only BAU member that knows her."

He keeps to his promise, not saying anything else despite the girls and Spencer pestering him about what he meant by that statement.

Who else knew her? She's too young to have dated Hotch or Gideon, so maybe she's a friend of JJ's. That's the best they come up with.

Thankfully, they don't have to wait long because not even ten minutes later, Y/n's walking through the glass doors of the sixth floor of the FBI. Spencer, more than anyone else, is very very surprised. He expected to see her again, but right here, right now?

She walks straight over to their desks, but Morgan's the first one she greets, wrapping her arms around his neck while he hugs her back. "Hey, D, good to see you." She says.

"You, too." He replies, letting her go after a moment. "So, you know Reid." He jokes, nodding to the flustered boy genius squirming in his seat.

"Yeah." She nods, squeezing his shoulder. "How are you doing Doctor Reid?"

"W-well." He answers, beaming up at her. "Re-really good."

She smirks back at him before turning to the two very excited and slightly confused women who are watching the interaction play out eagerly. "I'm Y/n L/n, the ex-girlfriend." She nods to Derek. "And the new something." Her next nod is to Spencer.

Spencer's never been someone's something, but it sounds perfect. Elle and Garcia both excitedly shake her hand.

Unfortunately, they don't have the chance to ask all of their questions before Hotch makes himself known. "There she is!" He exclaims.

Y/n breaks away from the group, turning around to give him a hug. "Hey, dad."

"Dad?!" Spencer squeals in a whisper-yell, mostly directed at Morgan for not revealing that vital piece of information.

"Yup." Morgan agrees. "That was a surprise for me as well."

Spencer stands there petrified, looking between Y/n and Hotch. "This isn't a joke?" He asks.

"Nope," Morgan answers before filling him in on the details, finally. "Apparently, he was college-age. I met her at Northwestern Law, had no idea Hotch was her dad. It made for a very awkward reintroduction when she came by the BAU, and she had to fill him in on how I was the law school jerk she dated."

At least it wasn't that bad for Spencer. Hotch seemed to like him, but still, he might have negative feelings about Spencer being involved with his daughter.

Once Y/n is briefly caught up with her dad, she turns her attention back to Morgan. "Hey, can I have a word?"

"Sure." He agrees, following her to the conference room and leaving Spencer with Hotch.

Honestly, it's the last place he wants to be. Hotch must know. He's got to, and the more Spencer worries about Hotch figuring out he slept with his daughter, the redder and jumpier he gets.

"Reid, don't worry," Hotch says, not doing the overprotective dad speech that Spencer expected. Knowing Hotch like he knows him, there's no way he isn't protective over his daughter. Add to that two guns, and Spencer's self-preservation instinct is activated. "You can't be a worse boyfriend than Morgan was. Just treat her well, and there won't be a problem."

Spencer gulps, nodding and keeping his head down, only being able to breathe when Hotch returns to his office.

Y/n and Morgan's conversation also has one instructing, but it's Y/n instructing Morgan on something. "When the time comes, you're going to have to help him propose." She tells him, looking out the window subtly at Spencer. He's so cute she can't help her mind travel there.

"I'm a good pimp." Morgan jokes, earning himself a slap on the chest.

"Shush." She tells him. "But thank you. I know it's unconventional, but thanks for setting us up."

He squeezes her shoulder. "You're welcome."

"We're good?" She asks, offering out her hand.

Derek gives her a hug instead. "Always. Now go get your dream guy."

She nods with a smile. "I'm going to. As long as my father hasn't scared him off."

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wardenparker · 1 year ago

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Night of the Living Wish

Javier Peña x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 11.4k Warnings: The one that got away. Cursing, alcohol and alcohol consumption, self-doubt, Steve Murphy is Big Brother Energy, wish fulfillment, magic, hair pulling, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, sex in someone else's bed. Summary: Determined to put years of pining to an end, Steve and Connie invite you and Javier to their blow out Halloween costume party the year after returning from Colombia. With the help of some very special costumes, this party is set to be a night to remember. Notes: The first of two Spooky themed one-shots for our now-annual Spooktober celebration!

It took a while to get here, and you're not sure if you're slightly embarrassed about that or not. You've sent letters back and forth with Steve and racked up long distance bills calling Connie from California, but any kind of communication with your other partner in Texas has seemed like too big of a bridge to gap. That is, until you had gotten the card in the mail from the Murphys a month ago, inviting you out to Miami for Halloween weekend.

A big costume party with their friends is their excuse to invite you out to the east coast, and since you've just wrapped up a case pretty neatly, you don't feel bad about taking a few days off. You managed to find a costume shop on a side street while you were walking around the city earlier and deftly avoided having to settle for a murderous clown or anything involving a mask by finding a nymph costume in your size. Maybe a sexy costume wouldn't have been your first choice but it isn't bad, and now you're sitting in the back of a cab wrapped in your coat to avoid lewd comments from the driver on your way from the hotel down to the Murphy's house. It will be good to see Steve and Connie again. It will. Even if you're dreading not knowing if Javi will be there or not.

******

“A fucking Halloween party?” The drink in Javi’s hand doesn’t seem nearly stiff enough as he watches Connie bustle around the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on the trays of food to serve.

“You know you could help.” Steve huffs, work gloves on as he load a faux cauldron with dry ice in the center of the table in the living room.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Javi asks, smirking slightly as he holds out his arms. “In costume.”

“Hardly.” Connie rolls her eyes, albeit playfully. “You’re wearing your own clothes. Like that is an outfit you would just wear regularly. I had to ask if you even knew it was a costume party.”

“Hey….” Javi pouts and then pulls the glasses out of his pocket to open them up after setting down his drink. Making a show of putting them on. “Now.” He huffs. “Recognize me?”

“Manwhore Clark Kent.” Steve jokes as he swings through the living room making sure that all the decorations are in place. He even goes so far as to adjust the plastic spider in the white webbing over the kitchen door so it’s at the most optimum angle to creep someone out.

“Ah, no.” Javi points a finger at his old partner and then flips him the bird. “Life, uh, finds a way.” He quotes, having watched the movie more than a few times because he enjoyed it. Not because of this party.

Connie snorts, mostly at the impression, and takes a bite out of a carrot stick from the veggie platter before shaking her head at Javi fondly. “Jeff Goldblum is far sexier,” she teases. “And I still say that wearing your own clothes is cheating.”

He frowns, even though he loves Connie, it stings his pride that Jeff Goldblum is sexier. “Not everything is mine.” He protests. “The glasses and the fucking pimp necklace came from that costume shop.”

“Then I stand correction.” She was teasing just to make him pout, and now that she’s accomplished that goal she offers him a beaming grin instead. Messing with Javi is one of the delights missing from her life these days and she’s glad to see him. Steve is too, although he grumbles about it more. “You did very well, Jav. Excellent costume.”

“Thank you, Connie.” He scoops her up into his arms and kisses her cheek. “And you are a very sexy Queen Cleopatra.” He smirks. “Black hair looks good on you.”

“We thought it was a fun change of pace.” Steve - dressed as Marc Antony - throws his wife a wink. They had talked about doing a little Halloween-inspired role play and Connie wanted to change up her look a little just for fun. “No snakes though, baby. Those bad boys stay outside.”

“Really?” Javi grins. “You’d look really sexy with a big snake.” He teases, winking at her.

Undeterred, Connie just smiles. “That’s why I married Steve,” she tells Javi with a wink. “Biggest one I could possibly find.”

“That’s because you hadn’t met me yet.” Javi enjoys poking at Steve, watching the man huff and grumble under his breath. Not like he would admit to his wife that his partner had him beat in the dick measuring department.

“Whatever makes you feel better, Jav.” Connie laughs, only leaving the living room when the front door rings to go and open it. “Here we go!” She announces with glee. Whether it’s trick or treaters or party guests doesn’t matter. She’s just glad to have an active night tonight.

Javi picks up his drink again and takes a sip. It’s good to see the Murphy’s again. Especially since he wasn’t sure they would stay together the last time he had seen them. Swirling his ice around, he wonders if you are coming. Steve had told him that you were in California, but he hadn’t mentioned if you had been invited.

The door was a mix, and the sound of trick or treaters is quickly replaced with the first flood of party guests. Plenty of people that Javi doesn’t recognize all come into the house in a great wave of introductions, but there is one single recognizable voice right at the end. The high-pitched squealing isn’t enough on its own, but it’s very distinctly your voice that exclaims: “Oh my god, you look gorgeous!”

Javi swallows slightly, lifting his glass to his lips to down the rest of his whiskey. The sound of your voice bringing back the next to last time he saw you. An image he had thought about more than a few times over the past year. How close he had come to crossing that line with you. Looking towards the door, he sees your arms flung around Connie and your head covered in some kind of twisty crown thing made of plastic that looks like sticks and flowers.

“It’s so good to see you again.” You’re practically in tears over it, honestly, having missed your best friend dearly since she left Colombia ahead of her husband. That was a rough time and everyone was glad to see the hard portion of the Murphy’s road smooth out in time.

“I keep telling you to trade California beaches for Miami beaches.” Connie squeezes you once more before she pulls back to look at you. “Okay…what are you with the coat?”

“I didn’t want to give the cab driver an eye full,” you admit, and easily take off the long rain jacket that you had been covering yourself with. The ‘nymph’ costume is skimpy but not overly so, just very obvious about highlighting your tits and the skirt is hiked up to halfway up one thigh…because they can? You don’t quite understand it. It’s definitely not historically correct Greek clothing.

“Hot damn, mama.” Connie whistles. “Don’t you look sexy? Steve, doesn’t she look sexy?” Turning her head towards her husband, she grins when she sees Javi nearly choke on his own spit.

“I know you said costumes from your own clothing are cheating so I—” Already halfway out a justification for the choice, you freeze in the doorway to the living room when you see “Javi?”

“Hey, muñequita.” Javi shoots you a small grin. “Been a long time.” He shuffles forward and wraps his arm around you, still holding his empty glass. “How have you been?”

“Good.” Even a measly hug shouldn’t feel this good, but you tell yourself that it’s reasonable to miss your friends after not seeing them for so long. That it has nothing to do with what almost happened. “Busy. I’ve been busy. Just wrapped another case. How’s Texas?”

“Slow.” He rolls his eyes but he can’t deny that he’s a hell of a lot less stressed on the ranch. “Meant to call you, but by the time you’re off work, Pop is snoring in his chair and I’m wiped out.” It’s a lame excuse for why he could never pick up the phone to hear your voice, but it’s the one he will use.

“It’s fine.” You had assumed that his interest in you had waned, not being in the same place anymore, and tried not to take it too hard. Or too personally. “I was just undercover for six months anyway…”

“Really?” Immediately Javi frowns, not liking the sound of that. Undercover work is dangerous and he doesn’t know your partners now.

“Traffickers.” You shrug like it doesn’t matter because honestly? You had a hell of a lot worse in Colombia. “No big deal, it took a while to get in where I needed to be.”

“You got out clean.” His brows raise seriously. Despite the fact he hasn’t seen you in a year, he hates the way that his stomach rolls at the idea of you being undercover without him watching out for you.

“I’m fine, Jav. No knight in shining armour shit this time.” Not like last time. When he’d had to rescue you from an undercover stint under the guise of a sting. That was…ugly.

He doesn’t like it, but he trusts you. Knowing you wouldn’t lie to him about that. “Good.” He grunts and bites his lip. “Drink?”

"Fuck yes." You can't help but laugh at the offer. "I spent the entire cab ride fending off the driver. I deserve it."

“Wearing that, I’m not surprised.” He’s never seen so much skin on you, unless you count the night he was pulling off your- no. He can’t think about that. He wouldn’t survive tonight if he started thinking about that.

“I had a coat on,” you defend, knowing that you had worn one for exactly that reason. Some men just can’t help themselves. They have to comment — or worse. “But now you owe me a fancy drink,” you insist, falling back on your old habit of teasing Javi. “You can’t bust me about my costume when you showed up in your own clothes.”

“I didn’t show up on my own clothes.” He pouts as you obviously don’t recognize the genius behind his costume.

“You totally did.” The shake of your head is amused, though, and you nudge him toward the counter beside the kitchen where the Murphy’s have set up a bar. “I saw Jurassic Park, Jav. Just because you own the same clothes as Ian Malcolm doesn’t mean it’s a costume.”

He huffs and rolls his eyes. “I don’t wear these stupid glasses.” He reminds you. “Or wear a chain. Or a bracelet.” He holds up his wrist as proof.

“You bought accessories.” The grin you flash at his pouty annoyance is genuine and you grab a bottle of rum to shake in his direction. “Please, Jav?” You give him your best innocent eyes when she crosses his arms at you and motion to the whole bar of ingredients and mixers. “You make way better mojitos than I do.”

He rolls his eyes and huffs, but he snatches the bottle from you. “You can never make a decent drink, muñequita.” He teases you.

“Maybe not.” It’s so easy to fall back into old patterns with him. The teasing and natural flirting that you never even realized you were doing until Murphy had called you on it one night in a stake out. “But I open a mean beer.”

“Oh yeah, that’s a necessary skill to have.” He smirks. Almost about to say something sexist but he knows you will punch him. “Come on. Let’s go to the kitchen. See if Connie has some mint leaves.”

“I guarantee she does, because you’re here.” The only person who loves Javi’s mojitos more than you is Connie, so you are more than certain that she is prepared. “So what have you been up to?” Even a small lull in conversation is too much for you to consider, and you aim for small talk instead.

“Nothing but fixing fences and trying to keep my pop from killing himself.” Javi snorts, guiding you into the kitchen and over to the bar so he can make your mojitos.

“It must be nice to see him again.” At least you hope it is. You’d hate to think Javi’s been unhappy. Regardless of whatever did or did not end up happening between you, he was still your partner.

“Of course it is.” Javi moves with sure hands. Eyeballing the measurements and looking up at you. “Have you been liking California?”

“Sun, surf, and beautiful people. What’s not to like?” That’s what you keep telling yourself when you miss your friends — and Javi — during your day-to-day life. That there’s no reason not to enjoy California. But the truth is that you’re lonely despite being surrounded by people constantly.

“It’s too bright, the salt is shit and people are assholes.” Javi grunts, even though he wouldn’t mind going to see you on a beach.

“Well I guess I won’t invite you to visit, then.” You would have been too nervous to offer anyway, but at least this way it’s about teasing and you can hide that you’re a little disappointed about it.

Javi frowns, hearing the hurt in your voice and he doesn’t know what to say. “I wouldn’t mind it.” He confesses. “Women in thong bikinis are never a bad thing.” He wonders if you have one and if you wear it to the beach. Reminding him of when he was pulling- no. He can’t think about that.

“Then Miami will be perfect for you.” If all he cares about is ogling women in bikinis? He can stay right here in Florida for that. “Wouldn’t want to get in the way of your skirt chasing by actually wanting to see you.”

He frowns even more, obviously having put his foot in his mouth again. “Muñequita….” He sighs and shakes his head. “Nevermind.”

“It’s fine.” You promise him, trying to act breezy when he hands you your drink and your fingers brush by accident. Sparks are not breezy, but you’re certain they’re one sided. “I shouldn’t have presumed. Anyway, um…thanks. For the drink.”

“No--" Javi is tired of the missed communication between the two of you. “I’d want to see your bikini.” He admits. Feeling bolder than normal around you. It’s easy with women he doesn’t care about. Respect, sure. He respects all women, but he cares about you. “Been trying to not think about those panties I had in my hand when the phone rang a year ago.”

“Oh.” That hadn’t been what you expected to hear in response, so when you pause it’s with your mouth half open and the glass at your chin. “I…” You’ve thought about that night every single day since, and it hasn’t gotten any easier to stomach the memory. “I wish I hadn’t picked up,” you confess quietly, setting the glass down again.

“Just would have fucking called again.” Javi snorts. “I was going home, one way or another.” He pours himself another whiskey. “Just glad I didn’t drag you two down with me.”

It was supposed to be a game. Javi had told you to pick up the phone with fire in his eyes, intent on making you cum while you carried on a conversation with whoever was on the other end. Thankfully in the end you had been able to convince the ambassador that you were only at Javi’s place for a post-work drink and you hadn’t been kicked off the case. “No…no, we finished it…” you sigh, knowing it should have been Javi to take the bastard down.

“Proud of you for that.” Javi tells you. “Watched every day news report when it came out. Even kept the paper that had your pictures in it.”

“It should’ve been you.” That has always been the private consensus between you and Steve. It should have been Javi on that roof with you.

“I fucked up.” That will never be something that he tries to shift blame on. He knew he was playing with fire. When he got burned, he accepted it. “I would have been there if I could. But it doesn’t take away from what you did.”

“We finished what you started.” For you it’s as simple as that, and you finally take a drink after shrugging your shoulders. “Fuuuck that’s good. I missed having my own personal bartender.”

He snorts and takes another sip of his own drink. Preferring to keep his own simple, he did enjoy making cocktails for you and Connie. Ignoring the way that Steve had teased him about a secret desire to be a bartender. “Glad you enjoy it. You’ll be hammered in no time.” He teases.

“Maybe I won’t mind the cabbie hitting on me all the way back to the hotel,” you snort, taking another long sip of the drink. Though you might wish that night a year ago had gone differently, it didn’t. You and Javi never got to take that next step, and now you probably never will.

Javi glowers, mumbling under his breath about that being bullshit as he takes another drink. Ten minutes with you and he’s already feeling possessive.

“Is it?” That’s news to you, but at least it’s not you and you alone who’s still sore about what happened between you.

His dark eyes slide over to you and he stares at you for a moment. “You want to be hit on by some cabbie?”

“No.” The way he’s looking at you makes you feel positively fucking naked, and not in a sexy way. Like Javi’s once again figured out how to look into your soul. “But if I was drunk I might not mind as much. Sometimes empty compliments are nice.”

“Empty compliments are just that, empty.” Javi steps closer to you, the ice in his glass clinking together. “You deserve real compliments.”

“Those have been pretty hard to come by over the last year.” Which is probably for the best, if you're honest. You’ve focused on work and enjoyed the photos of your sister’s family up in Oregon when she sends them every few weeks. In return, you send your niece and nephew goodies from California in a monthly care package. It was tough being undercover now that you have that relationship back. But it’s been tougher missing Javi. “One guy I knew used to give them out like candy. I never knew he meant them until it was almost too late.”

“Sounds like an asshole.” Javi snorts, shrugging slightly. “Most guys are when they realize they aren’t good enough for what they want.”

“Oh, bullshit.” You roll your eyes at him. “You were the single most sought after bachelor in the whole damn country. Nobody was out of reach.”

“There’s a difference between wanting to fuck someone and be with someone.” He murmurs quietly. “A big difference. Finding out you aren’t worthy of a woman is a humbling thing.”

Having been sipping steadily at your drink this whole time, you stop when you realize what he’s saying and put the empty glass down on the counter. “So it wouldn’t have just been a fling?” That question has itched at you for ages, and having an answer for it is both relieving and disappointing. Knowing you were moments away from having him - all of him - makes you wish all over again that you could have not picked up that phone.

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” Javi doesn’t give you an answer, aware that despite everything, you never reached out to him either. You had been the one to immediately promise to be there and start putting your clothes back on. Obviously regretting what was about to happen. “Guess it doesn’t matter now.”

“Sure. Right. Why would it?” Instantly you wish the glass was full again, and you groan internally. This is the guy you’re still hung up on? Really? The least emotionally available man in all of the Americas and he is the one your heart is set on. What a joke — and it’s entirely on you.

He’s still a little bitter that every time a call was for him, it wasn’t you. It was Steve. “Yeah.” He drains his glass and sighs. “Gonna go back out there.”

“Awesome.” You’re gonna go pour more rum in your glass and hope there’s still flavour left in the sugar-muddled mint, then see if any of Connie’s friends are hot. After the left turn your conversation with Javi just took, you could use a couple of empty compliments just to feel human again.

The fact that the conversation went right where he wanted it to and then took a hard left turn pisses him off. His jaw clenched as he walks back into the room, he considers leaving. He doesn’t want to watch you get plastered and giggly. Especially wearing that little costume you’ve got on.

“There you are.” Steve Murphy’s large, pale hand claps down on Javi’s shoulder just as he’s considering running, and he smiles as jovially as always. “Thought you’d gone extinct on us,” he jokes, immediately laughing at his own bad reference.

“I’m gonna head out.” Javi tells his old partner. He doesn’t want to get in the way of your good time and he doesn’t want to remember what almost happened a year ago.

“Noooo. No, you’re not.” Fixing him with a stern look, Steve crosses his arms and leans against the wall beside Javi. “What happened? You guys were hitting it off again. There were practically sparklers going off.”

“Same shit.” Javi shrugs. “She’s not gonna have a good time while I’m here. I’ll just- swing by tomorrow.”

“She asks about you every time we talk,” Steve offers, his expression softening measurably. “She mentioned you at least twice a day every single day we were still in that shit hole. That woman is deeply in love with you and Connie set this whole thing up to get you two in the same room again.”

“Except I pay her compliments and she thinks I’m blowing smoke up her ass.” Javi grumbles. “Takes every fucking thing I say out of context.”

“Maybe be a little more forthcoming this time?” Like a cosmic big brother, Steve is ready and willing to give advice even when unsolicited. “I know you gave her the bullshit about not being good enough for her.”

“It’s fucking true.” Javi snorts. “I fucking got kicked out of Colombia, remember?”

“You’re missing the point, Peña.” Steve shakes his head in exasperation. “You don’t get to decide if you’re good enough for her or not. Only she does. So stop throwing yourself a goddamn pity party and actually let her have a say in her life.” When he shrugs again, he’s smirking. “If you still love her, I mean.”

“Pendejo.” Javi hisses, hating how raw that single comment makes him feel. “Fuck you for that.” He shakes his head and turns around to stomp back into the kitchen.

When Javi reappears you're standing by the fridge, forced into polite chitchat with a couple that Connie works with at the hospital because they came into the room while you were staring at the photo of you, Steve, Javi, and Connie from a rare night off in Colombia. They have it pinned to the fridge with a magnet and you were standing there mooning over Javi's arm being around your waist when you got ambushed by extroverts.

Javi doesn’t comment on the way that the couple are set on either side of you. Walking over to the bar and pouring himself a drink. Hating that things have gotten so complicated. He had meant to apologize, to explain why he hadn’t called, but he had managed to piss you off.

The best you can do is hope to catch his eye across the kitchen while one of Connie's fellow nurses talks at you about whatever soap opera she's been watching lately that you mistakenly admitted to recognizing the name of. You desperately need a rescue but can't even get a word in edgewise to excuse yourself from the deluge.

He isn’t going to look over at you. He had promised himself that he would leave you alone. Despite what Steve said, you had made your feelings clear. So he’s berating himself when he glances over to find you giving every ‘get me out of here’ signal you can give. “Hey baby, there you are.” Javi hums, walking towards you to save the day.

It doesn’t even matter that he’s playing the fake boyfriend card, although that does make your heart ache a little. You’re just grateful to be able to use the moment as an excuse to break away from the droning soap opera fan for a minute. “I was just getting to know some of Connie’s coworkers,” you explain, gladly and easily welcoming him into your side with an arm around his waist when he strides over.

“Don’t mind if I steal her, do you?” Even though he’s giving an apologetic look, he’s already turning you away. Never one to really be all that nice unless he wants something with strangers and they don’t look like people he would want anything from.

"Awe, of course not." Even thought the woman who has been talking at you looks disappointed, she smiles sweetly. "She'd been looking at that picture of you guys and now I see why. Missin' her fella."

“Yeah.” He doesn’t comment further, just pulling you close as he guides you away. “Were they as bad as I think they were?” He asks quietly as you both walk out of the kitchen.

“Honestly? I think I blacked out for a second there.” Your laugh is relieved, though, and you have to swallow the sigh that wants to bubble out of you at having him close again. “Thanks for the rescue. I guess I do still need the occasional knight in shining armor moment.”

“It looked painful when I saw you.” Javi admits. His fingers dig into your hip slightly. “And I’ll come to your rescue whenever you want.”

Face to face with him again, you feel that knot of guilt twist in your stomach again and swallow a sigh. “I’m sorry I didn’t call,” you murmur, when the two of you come to a stop against one wall of the crowded living room. “I should have.”

“It was better that you didn’t.” Javi tells you. “For your career. You don’t want to be associated with me. My name is dirt.”

“I don’t actually give a shit,” you tell him with a shrug, leaning against the wall and a little against his side. “If nothing else…even if nothing had happened? I still care about you. And I should have called.”

“I picked up the phone a dozen times.” He admits quietly.

“We’re such a fuckin’ mess.” Laughing at yourself makes it slightly better, even if the whole situation still makes you ache.

“Cautious.” Javi prefers that. “We know how hard it is to be in a relationship with our - your - job.” He reminds you, nodding towards the living room. “Almost broke up the best damn couple I know.”

His hand is still at your waist, his shoulder firm beside your head, and lean into him that much more without even meaning to. “Does that mean it’s not worth trying?” You ask, actually voicing the question that’s been in your mind for longer than you came to admit.

“I never said that.” He mumbles, turning and staring at you somberly. While he might think that you deserve better and shouldn’t get involved with him, he respects you enough to let you chose your own path.

“I…kinda hate California,” you admit quietly, although a smirk has reached your lips. “I know that’s sacrilegious and everybody’s supposed to love LA, but I…asked to be transferred out of Graceland.”

“Where are you planning on going, muñequita?” He asks, his thumb rubbing your side as he continues to hold you close.

“I’m not sure yet.” Between his warmth and more than a little bit of rum, you feel soft and as best to relaxed as a government agent ever gets. “Gonna stay on the border to stay most helpful, I know that for sure.” You bite the corner of your mouth and look up at him. “I was thinking…maybe Texas.”

“Yeah?” Javi’s brow shoots up and he looks over at you. “Any reason why?” He asks, even though he knows the answer.

"Depends." You could swear there is hope in his eyes, and it twists your stomach like a knot. "If I tell you the truth are you gonna deflect or are you gonna accept it?"

“All things are plausible with Chaos Theory.” Javi changes his voice to sound like Ian Malcom and shoots you a grin.

"Jav--" Despite snorting a laugh at the dead-on impression, you shake your head. "I'm serious."

“You’ve already done it.” Javi rationalizes. “So tell me why you did.”

Suddenly the reasoning seems so small. It isn't the grand romantic gesture that you imagined when you had signed your transfer request, it's awkward and presumptuous and full proof that you got in over your head with him. Like that first kiss you shared broke the seal on your reasonable thinking or something. "Because..." A slight shiver shakes through you and you know it's just nerves but it's fucking embarrassing, so your voice drops to even lower and quieter than before. "--I still love you."

The confession hits Javi square in the chest, warming him inside and out. Especially sweet because you know of his past, you were there while he was living it out. “That’s good.” He murmurs, his lips curling up. “At least we will both get the ‘I told you so’ from Steve and Connie.”

"How so?" Javi has dozens of quirks to his smiles, and this one is equal parts pleased and full to the brim with mischief. This is the Javi who dragged you out to a club in the middle of Medellín to dance the stress out. The Javi who picked your apartment door's lock to be waiting there with a bottle of whiskey and a container of soup the one and only day you were too knock-down drag-out sick to function at work.

“You don’t think that this isn’t a grand scheme to get us together?” Javi asks, smirking as he looks around the party. “I bet that they have a bet going on how long it will take for us to disappear.”

"They didn't even tell me you were coming," you point out, amused at the idea of your friends plotting for you, but not entirely convinced. "For the record, I would have found a much skimpier costume if I had known you were coming."

“How much fucking skimpier could you go?” He asks, sliding his hand down about five inches to the edge of your hem.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" The smirk on your lips is borderline evil, but his hand on you makes you feel daring.

“Shit.” He hisses between his teeth. “Good fucking thing I’m not carrying a gun right now. I’d kill the fucker that tried touching you.”

"That's awfully territorial of you, Peña." Especially since you've spilled your guts to him and he hasn't said how he feels one way or the other, but you're not trying to get a marriage proposal or anything crazy.

“I’ve always been protective.” He reminds you. Leaning in and pressing his forehead to yours. “Especially those I love.”

"Yeah?" It would only take about a half a tilt of your head to kiss him like this, but you know once you cross that line again - at least tonight - you're not going to be able to stop yourself. And the Murphy's living room floor in the middle of a party of people isn't exactly where or how you dreamed of finally being able to be with Javi for the first time.

“Yeah.” He breathes out, sighing softly. “Muñequita.” He begins, stopping and smiling. “Do you know why I called you that all this time?”

"Because I'm adorable like a little doll?" Honestly, you had never bothered to ask, just accepting the term of endearment at face value and reveling in any small bit of intimacy you could grasp between the two of you.

“My pop used to call my mom that.” He admits quietly. “His ‘poppet’.”

“Javi…” He so rarely talks about his mother that you never could have known, and you all but melt against him right there and then. “That’s—its so sweet, I almost can’t stand it.”

“They were sweet.” Javi chuckles. “Pop is a hardass. Gruff, stoic, but ma? She was his poppet, his muñequita, and he loved her until the day she died.” He shrugs. “Loves her now. And she’s been gone for fifteen years.”

“Sounds like a love story worth aspiring to.” Somehow your hand has ended up in his at your side, and you tangle your fingers together experimentally only to feel them slide into place with ease as he lets you in.

“When you arrived and I got to know you,” he sighs. “It just seemed natural.” He knows that he holds a lot back, that he doesn’t talk but it’s hard to articulate.

“I was so sure you hated me for like the first few months I was in Colombia.” Javi’s standoffish behaviour and gruff comments hadn’t exactly read as friendly, but slowly you realized that that was just him. And once you understood that it was a hell of a lot easier to let things roll off your back.

“Never hated you. Wanted to fuck you.” He admits easily. He’s a man who enjoys sex and engaged in it as often as he could. Of course the pretty new agent coming in would catch his attention.

“Yeah that wasn’t how it came off at all,” you snort, able to laugh about it now that years have passed and so much has changed.

“It wasn’t supposed to come off that way.” Javi admits. “Didn’t want those assholes in the office to think that you were less than a top tier agent.” He knows the reputation he had crafted down in Colombia, and he knows what it could have done to your own reputation if he had shown interest. So he had kept his distance.

“More knight in shining armor behavior?” You tease, knowing that it isn’t quite the same.

“Self preservation.” He snorts. “They’d make a crack about what position they wanted to put you in, I’d be in the ambassador’s office for shoving a gun up their ass.”

“You probably shouldn’t be around the guys in the LA office, then.” It’s part of being a working woman in a field that’s considered for men, and you knew that going in. You ignore the comments and do your work, making sure to keep your nose clean and your paperwork immaculate. But the comments get made all the same.

“Assholes.” Javi rolls his eyes. “I fucked a lot, but how often did I talk about it?”

“You didn’t need to.” The smirk on your face says it all. “We all saw the secretary’s faces the next day.”

“Still didn’t brag.”

“No, you didn’t.” You have to agree to that. Javi may be an absolute rake, but he’s a respectful one.

“So what do we do now?” Javi asks, feeling like he is in uncharted territory. He doesn’t know how you really want to do this, or what exactly you want from him.

“Hell if I know.” There is a nervousness through both of you that would be a lot more nerve wracking if you weren’t both scared. At least that puts you in equal footing. “I feel like we’re a hell of a lot better at cracking jokes and deflecting than we are at talking through shit.”

“Why would we talk about feelings?” Javi scoffs playfully. “Right now, I think you need another mojito.”

“Trying to get me drunk, Peña?” Even teasing him, you still lean into his side and let him lead you back toward the kitchen. The door to that conversation is open for later, and maybe you actually won’t be too afraid to have it now. But for right now? It’s a party. And he’s right — you need another mojito.

“So I got this amulet at the cutest little costume shop.” The wife out of the couple has picked out another victim as she holds up her necklace. “The shop owner was kidding, but he told me that I could have my greatest desire if I just wished it!”

“Oh my god!” Gasps the woman she is now talking to, who clearly is completely on board with the story. “What would you even wish for?”

“Right now?” She laughs and shrugs. “I don’t know? A pizza? Yeah. I wish for a pizza.”

You roll your eyes discreetly at Javi and happily let him lead you over to the bar, but it does strike you as a fantastic coincidence when the door bell rings mere seconds later and you hear “Pizza delivery!” Called out from the front porch of Steve and Connie’s house.

“Who ordered pizza?” Steve calls out as he rushes towards the door. He hadn’t ordered it, but even if it was kids playing a prank, pizza sounds amazing right now.

The two women wander out of the kitchen looking bewildered and you throw Javi a smirk. “Weird ass coincidence.”

“That is a weird ass coincidence.” Javi muses. “Unless she ordered the pizza.”

“Already that drunk so early in the night?” You snicker softly. “That’s how you know it’s a good party.”

“Or to make whatever gullible sap she got her hooks in believe that wish thing.” He huffs.

"You don't believe in wishes?" The pout you throw him is adorable as he rolls his eyes at you and takes your glass to make you a new drink.

“I’ll believe it when shit like that actually works.” He grumbles as he starts to mix another mojito.

"Maybe if you wish out loud like she did, it will work." His generally disgruntled self makes you sunny, and that contrast has always been one of the thing that amused you about how you and Javi work together.

“Yeah?” Javi snorts in amusement as he looks up at you with an arched eyebrow. “I wish you’d show me your tits.” He teases.

There's no one in the kitchen with you, and that's the key. You quickly look around to make sure that no one is even by the door, and when you can see that everyone is at least six feet away with their back to the kitchen you slide the wide straps of your dress down your shoulders to expose your breasts -- all the while keeping one watchful eye on the other partygoers and the other on Javi.

He damn near drops the glass, he’s so shocked that you’ve flashed your tits at him. Mouth hanging open even after you’re pulling your dress back up. “You—”

"What?" You giggle evilly, tucking yourself back into your dress before anybody else can see. "I made your wish come true."

“Muñequita.” He breathes, shaking his head. “That’s cheating. The real wish would have been true if somehow your dress had ripped outside of your control.”

The crackling in the air is unexpected, but definitely not more expected than the tearing of fabric that happens immediately after. The seams rip haphazardly but they give way all at once, splitting your dress in half and exposing the skimpy lingerie you managed to wiggle into underneath. It happens too fast to react right away, but a second later you gasp and are too stunned to even think of covering yourself.

“Santa mierda.” Not particularly religious, Javi’s eyes are immediately looking up and then around to see if there is something that could have caused that. “I—”

"What the hell?!" When your hands finally catch up to your mind, you pull the shredded edges of your dress together with wide eyes. The effort to cover yourself is slightly in vain, though. It was a very skimpy dress.

“I didn’t- what the fuck just happened?” Javi demands, even as he’s moving towards you and reaching for the edges of your dress.

"Beats the fuck out of me, but I definitely need something else to wear now." If you weren't so confused you would probably be laughing your ass off. Standing in the Murphy's kitchen is not how you imagined your dress getting torn open with Javi pressed against you.

“What do you want to wear?” Javi moves so he is blocking your body from view if anyone comes in. “We can go get something out of Connie and Steve’s room.”

"I'll go grab one of Connie's old dresses if you just go and tell her what happened." How he'll possibly manage to explain it is beyond you, but right now you're more focused on remembering the layout of the Murphy's little ranch house so you don't stumble into Olivia's room instead of finding your way to Connie's closet.

Javi shakes his head, thankful that there is another door leading out into the hallway for you to try to keep from being seen. He heads out towards the living room and over towards the costumed Cleopatra. “Hey, Con, uh….so muñequita’s dress ripped and she’s gonna borrow something out of your closet. That’s okay, right?”

“What?” Connie turns around to find Javi’s face full of confusion and maybe even concern. “Yeah, of course it is! What happened?”

“I- I don’t know.” He admits. “It just…ripped apart.” She’s giving him a look that doubts what he’s saying, but how does he explain this without sounding completely crazy. “I told her that my wish would be for her dress to rip open and it just…did.”

The dubious expression on Connie’s face is obvious, and she raises one eyebrow. “Like…magic?”

“Like fucking magic.” Javi huffs, knowing it sounds crazy.

Dubiousness goes to skepticism and Connie snorts. “You got hands in the kitchen and ripped her costume? It’s fine, Javi. But now Steve owes me a fancy dinner out.”

“I swear to God, I didn’t fucking touch her.” He knows she won’t believe him, but he’s still trying to sort out exactly what had happened.

“Jav, it’s fine.” The shit eating grin on her face is just because she’s glad for her friends, it really is. “I would offer you the guest room but my sister has already called dibs on it for the whole week.”

He groans, rolling his eyes since it’s not even worth trying to tell her again. “Just- be careful about wishing for shit tonight.” He warns her before walking back to the back of the house where the bedrooms are.

“Connie?” Expecting to see her head pop around the corner, you quickly realize that the footfalls are too heavy to be hers. “No. That’s not Connie, that’s Javi.”

"Hey." Javi knocks on that almost closed door. "It's me." He murmurs. "Can I come in?" He doesn't know what the fuck is going on but he wants to make sure that you are okay.

“Of course.” Now wearing an old pair of Connie’s scrubs with your gold flats, you just look like a nurse who makes poor shoes choices. “You okay? Or are you still…shaky?”

"Shaky?" Javi pushes the door open and slips inside. "Who the fuck was shaky?" HIs scoff isn't nearly as derisive as it should have been, but he glowers at you in concern.

“Or was that just being too excited to see what panties I had on?” He isn’t going to give up his nerves, apparently, so you switch to teasing instead.

"I can find better ways to see what kind of panties you have on." That makes him smirk and his eyes slide down to admire the way you fill out those scrubs. He relaxes because it seems like you aren't hurt so his shoulders roll back slightly.

“Maybe I’ll wish for you to show me,” you hum, moving across the room to sink into his arms.

The urge to have you washes over him. Burning hotter than any other impulse he's ever had. Completely overriding every thought that might have been present and making his arms wrap around you tight as his mouth descends on yours with a hunger that has him groaning.

It hits you like a freight train, the way Javi’s need seems to be all-encompassing, and you can’t help but moan into the kiss when he wraps you up against him. It’s exactly the way you remember it from a year ago, but maybe a little more abrupt. You seem to remember Javi being a little bit smoother last time. But since when do you mind enthusiasm?

Determined to touch you as quickly as possible, Javi starts to push you back towards the large, king-sized bed that dominates the room. Not even thinking about how it would piss Steve off if he fucked you on his bed. If he had been thinking about it, he would have done it on purpose, but right now he just wants to touch you.

“Javi!” Even as he’s pushing you back on the bed, every thought has left your mind. He’s the reason you came here and the reason you’ve been planning on changing your life and this is finally happening so you’ll send Connie some apology flowers later and move on with your life. His hands squeeze and grope your body as he doesn’t even let go to get you on the bed. It’s like he can’t let go of you. “Cariño?” Something in his mannerisms change, and even though his kiss is every bit as insistent as you remember, his touch is different. It’s…like his hands are glued to you. When you pull back he sounds pained more than anything else. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He grunts, rocking his hips forward and it’s insane, crazy, but the words come out of his mouth. “Tell me to show you what I’ve imagined.” He begs softly, his teeth scraping over your jaw. “Wish it.”

Does it really work? And does it work like that specifically? Or is it just tonight’s token sex game? Either way, your body is far too deeply on fire for you to argue. “I wish you would show me what you’ve imagined.”

It’s a fucking relief to be able to touch more of you. To be able to move to start to immediately strip off the clothes you had just put on.

“Fuck—” As strong and sure as he usually is, Javi is even more determined tonight. Like every movement is being commanded. “Don’t rip anything,” you warn him with a grin.

“I’ll pay Connie for the outfit.” He groans, not caring what he rips as long as he gets to touch you. Fingers curling under the band of the scrub bottoms and peeling them off of you along with your panties.

You scramble backward on the bed as soon as your pants are gone, forcing Javi to climb on with you and sprawl across your body like he’s trying to block out the light. “We’ll be buying them a new comforter, too.”

“Fuck ‘em.” Javi groans, hands sliding under the shirt so he can push it up over your head and see your tits again.

“Goddamn, Javi.” His mouth is on your skin in an instant, hot and wet and searching, making sure you have to clamp one hand down over your mouth to keep from moaning too loudly and alerting the rest of the party.

Now he’s playing out every fantasy he’s ever had of you. Rocking his hard cock against your core while he bites and licks at your tits through the thin material of your bra.

“I swear to god if a phone rings anywhere I will break it in half,” you groan, one hand threaded through Javi’s curls to tug at his hair while he devours your tits and the other trying desperately to maneuver enough to unbutton his shirt in the meantime.

He doesn’t even try to move. Too focused on you so he can hear you moan his name like you had when he was about to fuck you the last time. He’s jerked off thinking about that moan for the last year.

You’re practically tearing his own clothes away. Whatever you can get your hands in while you’re flat on your back is getting pulled open and shoved aside so you can get him as stripped down as you are, and when that doesn’t get you very far you shiver your hands behind your back and strip away your bra to let him at every inch of your skin.

Groaning, Javi attacks your tits with renewed enthusiasm. Mouth recovering every inch of skin he had just mapped. Enjoying the warmth of your skin even more.

He's like a man starved, and you genuinely have to wonder if he's gone as crazy over the last year as you have. It's been torture being apart from him, and maybe it really is the same for him because it feels like Javi is trying to burrow under your skin right now. "Baby." The only coherent thought in your head is that you want more, and you hope you can manage a full sentence. "I need you, Javi. Please."

Huffing against your skin, Javi releases your nipple and starts to kiss down your stomach. Not willing to just rush into sex even though the house is full of people. He’s going to show you what he imagined.

He's disarmingly methodical. Taking you apart piece by piece and making sure that you're not only aching but actively begging for him by the time he settles himself between your legs. It's where he belongs, dammit, and right now you need him more than breathing.

Your scent is heavy in his nostrils. Getting richer as he shuffles to spread your legs wide enough to fit his shoulders through. “Fuck.”

"Not yet," you giggle but the sound is breathy and deep in your chest. "You do whatever you want with that mouth of yours, first."

“Always thought about this.” He admits, nuzzling your thigh and then biting it. “I like licking a cunt, and thought about what you would taste like.”

A shiver rolls through you with each nip to your skin and your hips tilt down, dripping pussy begging for attention. "Time to find out."

Javi licks his lips and groans. Ducking his head down and opening his mouth to devour your pussy with the first long lick. Eyes rolling back in pleasure at the wet heat of your tangy essence.

"Oh my fucking god." Even as hard as you're trying to be quiet, there are some things in life worth being vocal about. Javier Peña eating your pussy is definitely one of them. His arms wrap themselves around your thighs and once more your fingers twine into his curls to keep him close.

His own eyes flutter in pleasure as he carves a path through your folds with his tongue. Indulging in giving pleasure rather than taking it. While he had made sure partners enjoyed themselves, this was honestly for him.

His grip keeps you from squirming, only making sure that your hips stay on the bed while Javi begins to methodically take you apart one lick at a time. If this is what he has wished for, for who knows how long? You're absolutely going to enjoy being on the receiving end of all of those pent-up fantasies.

His fingers dig into your thighs, holding you open as your legs threaten to close every time he swipes his tongue up and down your pussy. Feeling your ass clench under you and his eyes slide down to watch your tits shake as you quiver.

Every swipe of his tongue hits something exquisite inside you, twisting and pulling at that coil at the base of your spine that is always tingling with the impending need for release. Gasping and moaning his name as quietly as you can with so much pleasure hearing your blood, your nails scrape the base of his skull as you get closer and closer to cumming.

Javi’s eyes close when you scratch his head, shuddering in response to the pleasure. Groaning into your folds and worshiping at the alter of your cunt as he feasts and sips your juices.

Fingers tangling more determinedly with every second, you know how close you are. How loud you’re going to end up being if you don’t keep your mouth shut. So you slap you hand over your mouth and bite your lip, tugging on Javi’s hair that much harder to spur him on.

Javi hisses, twisting his tongue around your clit before he sucks it into his mouth. His nose buried into the thick folds protecting your sensitive flesh as he wills you to cum for him.

So close you're about to rocket off the edge of pleasure, a thought rolls through your mind that you let out instantly, wondering what will happen. "Wish it," you moan, so close you're nearly sobbing. "Wish for me to drench your tongue, Jav."

Right now he couldn’t even speak, so his wish is in his mind. Begging for you to come apart for him, needing to see it.

From that moment it’s as if you are being moved — guided — by the hands of Fate. Or, possibly more accurately, thrown off the precipice of pleasure like a chess piece being forcibly ejected from its game. There is no one to catch you but Javi, as you pant out his name in muffled ecstasy, but that is all you need. Just him, ready to drown himself in every drop of cum he can wring from your body.

He drags you hips closer, groaning as he feels the force of your reaction to him, to this. Curling his tongue up inside you as your thighs press against his head and squeeze.

Barely shy of screaming his name as you fall apart, the giggling puddle of a person you become when you finally stop shaking is downright comical. “Goddamn,” you manage to huff out, panting to catch your breath.

A few more licks before he’s satisfied, Javi smirks as he pulls his mouth away from your soaked cunt. “What’s wrong, muñequita? Cat got your tongue?”

“You’re the one with your tongue in my pussy,” you quip with your wit since your body is now basically useless.

He snorts and indulges himself with biting your thigh like he’s imagined hundreds of times. “Sure fuckin’ did.”

“I didn’t pull too hard, did I?” The fingers that you still have in his hair smooth of his scalp to soothe any burn that might be left behind.

“No.” Javi still needs to touch you, show you what else he’s thought of and starts to lick and kiss up your body. “Not hard enough.”

“Should’ve known you would like it h—” When his teeth more than graze one of your nipples, you moan unrestrainedly. “Hard.”

Javi grunts, the sound more like a growl than anything as he starts to suckle on your nipple again.

“Fucking hell, Javi.” Your back bows, chest pushing itself up with the curve of that arch to soak up as much of his attention as possible.

Even as he’s paying attention to your tits, his hips are slotted between yours. Pressing the length of him against your clit as he starts to rock his hips.

It splits your body’s attention and casts a fuzzy cloud over your mind where instinct takes over again above everything else. All you want is more of him and the movement of your own hips is a mimic of the way Javi rocks against you. If you could do it blind, you’d be tipping your hips to take him inside you as fast as humanly fucking possible, but he has you at his mercy.

“Impatient.” Javi chuckles, smirking as he pops your nipple out of his mouth.

“Only cause we’re in somebody else’s bed,” you admit. “Otherwise? It should take hours.”

He snorts and is willing to say that the Murphy’s can just fuck off, but he doesn’t. Instead he slides his hand between your bodies and positions himself at your welcoming entrance. “Are you sure, baby?”

“So fucking sure.” It’s been a year of dreaming about the night you almost had and far more than that of daydreaming about him before you knew exactly what his kisses tasted like. “No hesitation.”

“Thank God.” He groans, pulling his hand away so he can slide it under your body. Slowly rocking his hips forward to break you open as his lips descend on yours.

You would have laughed if there was time. A pleased little giggle of understanding after having waited so long to be with him. But waiting has made you both eager, and the moment he slips inside you and you wrap your legs around his waist? There is nothing to laugh about.

It’s painful, holding back and not just slamming his hips home to bury his cock. But it’s worth it to see your face change as he fills you inch by inch. Slow and steady is a very specific kind of torture. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan as he pushes forward, and you swear you’re seeing stars by the time he’s fully seated inside you. Only slightly longer than average, Javi’s cock is girthy with prominent veins that scrub along your walls as he starts to rock his hips back and forth. Every sensation is a desperate, delicious, perfect overload of your senses and you whimper in a pitiful bid for more.

A long, colorful stream of Spanish and English intertwined together falls out of his mouth. A filthy prayer to whatever Gods were listening as he feels like his entire body is going to pull in on himself like a black hole of pleasure. Those words breathed into you and moaned in praise.

Even if you know exactly how he feels, you don’t have the words to tell him anymore. You’ve lost the ability to express yourself with any kind of eloquence, or in any way at all, and instead are pouring everything you have into kissing him back and pushing back against every thrust to give both of you your maximum pleasure.

The pace is slow, steady to start with. Needing to feel everything as he rocks his hips and fills you completely every time he bottoms out. “Baby, you- fuck.” He hisses.

This time you do giggle, it it’s broken by a moan. “Yeah I do,” you tease with a grin.

“Tease.” He grunts, shaking his head and kissing you again. His next thrust is more jarring as he snaps his hips forward for emphasis.

"Worth it," you contend, when a few quick thrusts leave you completely breathless.

He rolls his eyes and slides the arm that isn’t around you down to your thigh to pull it up on his hip so he can thrust just a bit deeper into you. “Fuck.” He hisses.

The give and take, push and pull, is intoxicating. Everything about this night has been unexpected and you’re not about to start questioning it now. There’s nowhere else you would rather be, now or for the rest of your life. Slowly, the need gets the best of him. Starting to move faster, putting a bit more force into his thrusts as he fucks you.

It’s impossible not to get wrapped up in him. Even if he didn’t have one arm literally wrapped around you, you would still be lost in being close to him. The world is nothing but Javi now and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Wanted you every damn day we were in that fucking office.” He pants quietly. “Wondering what you would look like spread out, sound like.” He bites your chin. “Never could imagine that you were better than my dreams.”

“So much fucking better.” The number of times you had fantasized about him is completely beyond counting but this is far beyond anything you thought it could be. You fit together like you were always meant to find each other this way.

Instead of ramping up to a frantic pace, Javi keeps it steady and just on the sensual side of things. Nearly lovemaking.

You’ve definitely been gone too long. Someone will have noticed, and it will be Steve, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not with that coil of tension pulling tight in your belly and making your legs shake. “So—” Panting in his ear, you turn your head and bite Javi’s jawline the way he loves doing to you. “Fuck baby. So close.”

“Good.” He groans, teeth becoming a part of the kisses he is scattering over your skin. Fingers digging in just a bit harder as his pace falters for the first time.

Just because you didn’t mean it as permission doesn’t mean it can’t be taken that way, and your nails dig their way into Javi’s back as his thrusts get deeper and more erratic.

“Cum for me, muñequita.” He begs, feeling his own control starting to slip. It’s the climax of his dreams and wishes for the past year, quickly making it difficult to maintain stamina for long. He’s too pent up, too eager to have you.

As if he wished it again, you can feel the tension in your body snap like a rubber band. All of a sudden your body hurtles over the edge of pleasure, pulling Javi into you as tightly and deeply as your needy cunt possibly can while you groan into his kiss and press little half-moons into his back with your fingernails.

It's like the floodgates opening, soaking him as you convulse underneath him. "Oh fuck, baby." He moans quietly, steadily rocking into you to make sure you don't miss a second of the pleasure.

“Come on, Javi.” As unbelievably fucking good as it feels, it won’t be complete unless he comes with you. “Cum for me, baby.”

His hands tighten on your body, gripping you as if he's afraid to let you go. As if you might slip away even if you are encouraging him to cum. Gritting his teeth as his pace becomes frantic. Needing only another moment, another thrust before he's cumming. Pushing deep and groaning your name as he fills you. Pouring wave after wave of hot cum into you as he presses his lips to yours.

“Fucking hell.” When both of your bodies are finally still and you feel like you can gasp for air again, you leave lingering kisses on his lips and jaw, indulging in every second of contact.

Javi pants, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead to yours when you stop kissing him. "Fuck is right."

You giggle softly, eyes closed against the feeling of him weighing you down. Afraid somewhere in your mind that if you open them you might find out this was all a dream. “You’re coming back to my hotel tonight…right?”

"Or you can come back to mine." He nuzzles into your neck, kissing your jaw and scraping it with his teeth. "Whatever you want, muñequita."

“Mine has a huge hot tub.” If he hadn’t just completely devastated you, you’d be ready to jump him again at the first nip of teeth. “I plan on riding you in it.”

"Oh?" His brow arches and he pulls away to smirk down at you. "You had those plans when you booked the room?"

“I had those dreams when I booked the room.” You suck a mark into the hollow of his throat and grin. “It’s only a plan now that this happened.”

"I don't mind that dream." He hums. "We can make it a reality."

“All my dirty dreams have a very Javi-esque leading man,” You promise him. “You should feel very flattered.”

"I am." He drolls playfully, leaning in and kissing you again.

“The chain is sexy, by the way.” He still has the necklace and bracelet on that he bought at the costume store and your fingers tangle in it, locked between your chests. “Just so you know.”

"Yeah?" He smirks and winks at you. "It's a little flashy for my tastes, but if you like it..."

"Definitely keep it." As if to prove your point, you use it to tug him a little closer and press another kiss to his lips. "Who knows? It might be magic like the woman downstairs who wished for pizza."

“Yeah?” He snorts. “Maybe the fairy costume you were wearing is magic. That’s why it ripped.”

"It was a nymph costume," you correct him with a pout. "And you should have seen the way your eyes bugged out of your head when you saw me in it. I'm gonna miss that dress."

“You think that shop has another?” Javi asks seriously. “We could go get it.”

“Ohhh, you really liked that dress.” The way you can’t help snickering is almost evil, but he’s still laying on top of you with his softening cock about to slip out of your pussy and you swear you felt it twitch.

"Bend over in it and I get to see your cunt." His hand slides down and he slaps your thigh after one last kiss.

“I’ll let you do more than look if you want to.” The wink you shoot him is devilish, and accompanied by a wide grin. “We have a whole lot of missed time to make up for.”

Javi grunts as he feels himself fall out of you and he shifts onto his back. Looking up at the ceiling for a second and reminding himself that he's on Murphy's bed and not his own. "Yes we do." He groans as he sits up and looks over at you. "Wanna get out of here?" He asks. "Start making it up?"

“Absolutely.” You’ll pull on the scrubs you were borrowing from Connie and you’ll get the hell out of here with Javi for the rest of this first glorious night. But first? You will absolutely be opening the window to let the room air out.

"Leave it." Javi tells you when you move over to the window, guessing what you are going to do. He grins wickedly and tilts his head towards the door. "Steve deserves it for all the shit he's given me."

It takes a couple of minutes to get yourselves straightened out, but once you do, you’re prepared to just say good night and offer to but the Murphy’s dinner tomorrow as both thanks and an apology for slipping out early. What you find when you leave the bedroom, however, is nothing short of chaos. A woman dressed as a cowgirl stands amazed with a pony in the middle of the living room. One guy is standing in the middle of a pile of money cradling the keys to a new car. Another has two beautiful women vying for his attention. The woman who wanted pizza now has an entire stack — it seems like you and Javi weren’t the only ones throwing your wishes around for fun.

"Fuck, there you are." Steve looks positively relieved to see the two of you as he drags Connie over to you. "What the fuck is going on?"

“Do you believe in magic, Murph?” You ask, raising one eyebrow even as Javi’s fingers kink through your own.

He rolls his eyes and then they fall on your joined hands. "Holy shit, maybe miracles do happen if you holding hands means what I think it means."

“You don’t want to know what it means.” It’s your assurance, but you crack a grin anyway. “Just…be careful what you wish for tonight. Okay, Stevie?”

"Huh?" He frowns, but Connie bites her lip, rushing forward to give you a hug. She knows how long you have pined for Javi.

“We’re gonna get out of here,” you murmur, squeezing her back in a tight hug. “Dinner tomorrow. On us. I wanna hear how the rest of this party goes.”

“It’s getting crazy.” Connie admits, hugging you fiercely and stepping back to shoot Javi a grin. “Go have fun you two.”

“Don’t worry,” you shout back over your shoulder as Javi immediately starts to move you toward the door. “We will!”

Javi wraps his arm around you as you exit the house, guiding you towards the rental car he had driven over. “They are in for a wild night.” He predicts. “Steve’s been wishing for threesome for years.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Javier Peña #Javier Peña x reader #Javier Peña x you #Javier Peña x female reader #Javier Peña x f!reader #Javier Peña x dea!reader #dea!reader #coworker romance #pining #the one that got away #halloween party #Halloween #Spooktober

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