s1xthirty

[s1xthirty]

girls my age | georgia miller

wc: 3.6k (more plot than porn)

summary: after the blonde bombshell georgia miller moves into wellsbury with her two children, she can’t help but become acquainted with your single mother and you quickly find yourself thankful you stayed home for the summer.

cw: SMUT MDNI, not proofread, takes place after the events of s3 (georgia isn’t pregnant), femreader, mbf!georgia, unspecified age gap, high sex, praise kink, she talks you through it, excessive use of peach as a nickname

Summer was always hard for you, you had chosen to attend a college out of state which meant that all your friends either lived there, or were scattered across the country. Though for once, you could almost say you were excited to be back home. There was buzz of a “mayoress murderess” in wellsbury, which is huge due to the low crime rate of the town.

After an excruciatingly long drive, you finally recognized the buildings as you entered town lines. It was a nostalgic feeling, you hadn’t home since the beginning of the school year. You pull your car to the side of the road outside Blue Farm Cafe, it had been so long since you were able to visit this restaurant and in all honesty you were craving it more than you’d like to admit. The bell atop the door elicits a loud ‘ding!’ as you walk into the building. Joe Singh, the store owner, notices you as you walk in and his eyebrows raise in recognition

“wow, y/n. it’s been…forever. do you want your usual?” he asks as you make your way to the front of the restaurant

“you remember it? here i thought you’d go senile by the time i got back.”

“do other people think you’re funny?”

“no not really, so the usual?”

the man rolls his eyes and walks to the back to make your order, that is when you lean over to padma, a girl quite a few years younger than you, but still liked to gossip with from time to time, “so..i heard about this ‘mayoress murderess’? what the hell is that about” your quotation marks linger in the air to accentuate your confusion. padma turns rigid, that was unlike her. “I’m sure you’ve heard everything the rest of us know, it was everywhere” padma laughs, but it seemed awkward.

before you can further question the girl, joe exits the back with a bag and places it on the counter in front of you, “man, i was just getting to the part where i threaten her with a flimsy plastic knife for all the information she has” you say blandly, grabbing the knife out of your bag and throwing it at joe’s face, who flinches back and scowls at you.

“did a lot of maturing in college i see. please pay and stop holding up the line” joe states sternly, pointing at the line building up behind you, making you flush in embarrassment. you toss a few bills on the counter, probably more than enough, and leave quickly with your bag.

you eat in your car, thinking it’d be rude to show up to your mother’s house unannounced and then eat in front of her. you exit the car as you finish, balling the wrapping up and tossing it into the can on the side of the street. with a hefty breath, you tug your suitcase out of the trunk and finally head inside.

as you enter, you’re greeted by the sound of soft chatter coming from what you assume is the kitchen and you swear you can hear a strong southern accent. holy shit, was your mother having brunch with the mayoress murderess?

“who’s there?” you hear your mother speak loudly from the kitchen, i guess she heard you come in.

“your daughter! have you already forgotten about me in favor of the cat?” you announce from the hallway, lifting your cat off the ground who just purrs in response as you walk into the kitchen.

“atleast the cat doesn’t talk so much.” your mother turns away from the stove to look at you, she was preparing for dinner, it was a lot of food, which was weird as she was alone here when you were at college.

you place the cat down next to her food bowl, petting her gently, “decided to come home for the summer after hearing about a murder case in wellsbury of all places. padma was being all weird at blue farm, so what do you know?”

“hi mom. how have you been mom. i missed you so much mommy.” your mother quips loudly, which makes you clench your jaw as you slowly walk over, giving her a hug and kissing her cheek, “sorry. i love you, and i missed you.” you affirm as you manage to pull yourself away from your mother’s grip. whipping around you’re greeted by a beautiful blonde woman atleast a decade younger than your mother sitting at the island.

“hi there!” she drawls with an amiable smile. you can only chuckle lightly—she was absolutely breathtaking. the woman was in a white sweater that clung to her body tightly, with a cut low enough to show off her cleavage. and oh my god, she was the woman from all those videos you’d seen. her smile never even faded as the time between your response grew longer and longer—your mother thankfully decided to fill the silence for you

“so georgia, this is my daughter y/n. the one i told you so much about!” your mother beams, elbowing you in the side to yank you out of your thoughts—and to her credit it works. “only good things, i hope.” you add on to your mother’s words, it was almost impossible to pull your eyes away from the woman, as if she was a cosmic being holding you there by force.

“only good things.” georgia confirms, “though she did tell me about a time you assaulted a boy in highschool?” a playful smirk creeps it’s way onto her alluring face and you swear your knees almost give out at the sight.

“he deserved that.” you manage through gritted teeth, partly because the memory makes your stomach churn and partly because you’re so entranced by the woman you can hardly speak correctly. “and i bet he did, peach” she shoots back and you swear you see stars—god pull yourself together.

“georgia here has two kids of her own, but they’re with their father so i thought i’d keep her company, she’ll be staying for dinner.” your mother explains as she pats your back before returning to the stove

“you? have two kids?” it was genuine curiosity, and thankfully georgia doesn’t seem too offended by your comment, “mhm. 9 and 16.” you never would’ve guessed the woman in front of you had a sixteen year old at home, but you decided not to press further, in case it was a touchy subject, the last thing you wanted to do was blow up your mother’s friendship, it was difficult for her to make friends as is, maybe that’s who you inherited it from.

dinner goes surprisingly well, mostly spent with your mother and georgia talking about anything that comes to mind, while you stay silent and observe the woman—everyone knows how that trial ended, apparently her ex boyfriend killed tom fuller. but it’s still surreal to be seated across from a woman accused of being a serial killer.

“ellen says you’re thinking about running against paul randolph in the recall, is that true?” your mother suddenly said and your eyes widen, still staring down at your plate.

georgia wipes her mouth and makes a quiet ‘mm’ sound. “sure is! i am fresh out of work and ginny gave me the idea, she’s always been so smart”

“you should hire y/n for the pr team! like a social media manager or whatever the kids are good at these days”

your eyes dart up from your plate in horror, this was supposed to be a summer away from school and work, not helping some lady run for mayor, no matter how stunning the lady is. but seeing how georgia’s eyes light up at the idea, you know you’d never be able to refuse her.

“now that’s an amazing idea! y/n would you do that, for me?” it almost looked like she was putting on her best puppy dog eyes, you were so fucked.

“sure. when does campaigning start?”

“next month, don’t worry. you have plenty of time to go partying with your little friends” georgia smirks and raises her eyebrows cheekily, and you can’t help but chuckle. ‘what friends?’ you almost say, but hold your tongue.

after dinner, georgia pulls you into a big hug before leaving—she smelled amazing, her strong perfume hastily invading your nostrils as she rubbed your back, “i oughta get goin, but it was amazin’ to meet you, y/n.” she even gives you a quick peck on the cheek before leaving the house, not leaving anytime for your response, what would you have even said?

you wipe the lipstick that had smeared off your face with a heavy breath, “i’m glad you’re home baby—but go do those dishes” your mother says from behind you, tossing a dishrag to you before heading upstairs, goddamnit.

ᯓ★

the next time you see georgia, is at your own pool about a week after your first meeting. you had been sunbathing on a lounge chair when you heard the back door slam open and a group of people barrel out, making you nearly jump out of your seat. you snap your head over to where the noise came from and realize what had happened, georgia brought her kids over to swim.

you quickly stand and try to make your way inside, but someone grabs your arm—not aggressively—though it was a firm grasp. you turn to see who grabbed you and it was georgia. “well ain’t you just as pretty as a peach in that little thing!” she beams, her eyes flickering up and down as she gestures to your bathing suit. out of the corner of your eye, you see her oldest daughter roll her eyes and turn to her brother, “come on austin, i’ll do your sunscreen” she mutters and they leave the both of you. alone.

“yeah i was just heading inside, i’ve been out here for hours.” you lie, trying to get out of this situation as the woman still had her hand firmly attached to your arm.

“you’ve been out here for 30 minutes at best, don’t be dramatic” your mother suddenly says, pushing past you with towels in hand, oh right. you were right in front of the door. the contact makes you stumble forward, almost pressing into georgia.

“if you go inside, who will help me with my sunscreen?” that same smirk from a week ago creeps onto georgia’s face and her grip on your arm loosens, only for her to drag her fingers down your arm, making you shiver. “c’mon darlin. i hate being sunburnt” she adds firmly,shoving the sunscreen into your hands—it wasn’t a request.

when you give her a puzzled look, your mother pipes up, “baby please stop acting like a fish out of water and help my friend, i’m making snacks” she insists, giving your head a light kiss before she heads back inside, leaving you to lather sunscreen on her best friend for some reason.

with a deep sigh, you open the bottle and squirt some onto your hands, rubbing it into your hands and starting with the woman’s arms. after you get her top half, you drop to your knees to rub sunscreen into her legs. this is when you make the mistake of looking up, she’s smirking down at you and suddenly this feels too intimate—you gulp as your face becomes hot. you dart your eyes back down to her legs, quickly rubbing sunscreen before standing back up—too close to her face—you could feel her breath on your face. “careful, peach” she laughs. laughs it off. like she wasn’t just smirking down at you on your knees.

“sorry.” you apologize, you didn’t even know what you were even apologizing for. you put the sunscreen on the table and rub the leftover from your hands onto your shoulders.

she laughs again, it was infectious. “for what?” she asks, a look of confusion painting her gorgeous features.

“i…don’t really know.” you shrug, looking around for anything to change the subject, and your eyes land on georgia’s youngest son nervously standing by the pool with ginny trying to gently coax him into it, “are those..harry potter swim trunks?” you chuckle lightly, looking back at georgia for an answer. and to your surprise, she smiles warmly.

“yeah. he’s been obsessed since he was a little boy.” georgia responds fondly, turning around to look at the scene behind her—the distraction worked.

“does he know how to swim?”

“yes, but he hasn’t in awhile—so he’s scared. his therapist says i should let him face his own fears instead of paving the way for him” she explains, it was almost rambling. an idea pops into your head as she speaks, and a smile makes its way onto your face. “let me try something” you mutter, absentmindedly rubbing georgia’s shoulders before walking away. she looks around confused at your absence but her eyes flicker back to her son and she gnaws on her fingernails nervously.

a few minutes later, you return, arms filled with pool toys and you haul it all over to austin, dropping it on the side of the pool with a smile, “i thought maybe some of these could help you adjust? pool noodles and floats galore.”

the young boy smiles brightly, practically glowing, “mom! look at the size of this flamingo!” he yells while looking at her, grabbing the flamingo and dragging into into the pool, slowly sitting on it. you stare at austin for a minute before looking back at georgia, her smile is so big it almost reaches her ears—her cheeks illuminating tear streaks in the light.

“thank you” she mouths to you

“you’re welcome” you mouth back, completely enamored by the woman.

just in time, your mom exits the house once more, “snacks and music are here! it’s time for a proper pool party!”

ᯓ★

the day of swimming in the heat hung heavy on you throughout the next day, and as you were dozing off on the couch, you were jerked awake by the sound of the doorbell.

you thought maybe it was morning—but upon checking the time, you realized it was 11:30 pm. who the hell was here at this time. you grabbed a baseball bat from the storage closet—making your way to the front door and cautiously opening it. you opened your mouth to threaten whoever was at the door, but it immediately clamps shut upon seeing who was there, georgia miller.

“georgia? my mom’s out of town, i’m sorry”

“i’m not here for your mom.”

you give her a confused look, and upon seeing that, she removes her arms from behind her back. in her hand laid a bag of weed. “i wanted to thank you for helping austin yesterday, it means a whole lot.”

“it’s no problem, really. and you certainly don’t need to repay me with weed, i dont even smoke.” you wave your hands in protest, dropping the baseball bat in the process.

“i’m serious. he’s been through so much and now he won’t stop raving about that damn flamingo. so please, smoke with me.” georgia insists, pushing the front door open and walking in like she owned the place.

“oh. uh—alright.” you cave almost immediately, grabbing the bat from the floor and shoving it back into the storage closet. “my mom’s room has a balcony?”

“perfect—lead the way, peach.” that damned smirk again. you almost trip over yourself as you lead her up the stairs and to your mother’s bedroom. georgia sits much too close to you once you reach the balcony, to your utter shock.

a few hits in, georgia was holding the joint and staring absentmindedly into your eyes, “any boyfriends in the big city?” she asks, her tone sultry—fingers seemingly drawing closer to your own, or maybe it was the cannabis talking. you can only shrug in response, her southern accent making you slightly intimidated by her reaction to saying you had a few girlfriends in the big city.

“girlfriends, then? certainly a girl as pretty as you had all kinds of people humping your leg like a damn chihuahua.”

you find yourself cackling at her choice of words, covering your mouth to stifle your laughter. you close your eyes as tears prickled in them—taking a deep breath to calm down.

“a few girlfriends. they didn’t end well.”

“cheers to that, honey.” georgia says bitterly, taking a deep drag of the joint before passing it back to you.

“you also had girlfriends?”

“well—i was talking about my ex boyfriends, peach. but i’ve hooked up with women in the past, i’m somewhat of an equal opportunist” she shrugs after revealing the information, and in return you just stare at her for a few seconds before she interrupts, “you’re letting it burn.” she reminds and you quickly take a drag, handing it back to the woman.

the rest of the passes are spent in relative silence, you honestly weren’t sure what to say. you were smoking pot with your mom’s best friend, what would she think? disappointment, most likely. and more importantly—you wondered why georgia was entertaining this, wouldnt she prefer to be smoking with her friend? not her kid?

you’re broken out of your thoughts by a hand slowly grabbing you. georgia’s nails gently grazed the sensitive skin of your inner thigh—making you breathe out in surprise, your head spinning.

“what’re you thinking about, peach?”

“you.” you accidentally blurt, face heating up again as her nails gently dig into your skin at the response. “what about me?” she whispers into your ear, her breath hot on you—it quickly became apparent how close she was to you.

“why you’re smoking with me and not my mom…” you mutter, trying to control the waver of your voice as her hand inches up your inner thigh. “because i don’t want to have sex with your mother” she breathes out, her lips grazing your ear as she speaks and it makes your head spin.

you feel her hand slip past your loose shorts and you grip her wrist before her fingers can venture into your panties, “c’mon peach—let me touch you” georgia’s voice is husky as she leaves a singular kiss against your jaw. her words make you weak—hand slowly losing grip of her wrist as wetness pools in your underwear. the older woman smirks in triumph, this was wrong. georgia was your mom’s best friend, she would have a heart attack if she found out you two had been fucking, especially on her goddamn balcony. though your thoughts of regret are almost immediately dissolved as georgia’s fingers find their way to your clit, rubbing gently.

you gasp and tense up, “fuck” you breathe out, unable to stop your hips from jerking up at the contact. “you’re so sensitive, darling. i thought you said you had girlfriends.” georgia teases—soft jawline kisses becoming more hungry. you don’t respond, only leaning your head back to give her more room to kiss you. practically begging for hickeys, something to show that this was real.

the rubbing on your clit becomes faster—one of georgia’s fingers toying with your entrance. she was smirking against your jaw, she wanted to hear you beg for it. “please georgia” you whine out, hips bucking and begging for more contact. “please, what?” she snarls, slowing down her thumb movements. “fuck—please make me cum” you open your eyes to give her a pleading face, she only chuckles darkly in response. “awh peach, of course i will.”

your eyes squeeze shut again as she pushes two fingers inside of you—unable to stop the moan that leaves your body.

“shhh, the neighbors might hear. and god knows they love their gossip” she warns, rubbing your clit hastily as she pumps her fingers in an out of you—continuing to breathe huskily against your jaw. you bite your lip to try and fight back the noises. your hips grind against georgia’s fingers at a grueling pace, chasing your orgasm like a horny rabbit. you hear her snicker, no doubt because of your neediness. “what do you think they’d say, peach?”

you don’t know if the question was rhetorical, and either way—you weren’t sure you could answer, much to focused on the way georgia’s fingers meet all your sweet spots with perfect precision, like she had a map of your body in front of her at all times. “the mayoress murderess is actually the mayoress cougaress, preying on her best friend’s poor little girl who couldn’t take her eyes off my cleavage” she mocked the women’s gossip, she was right—they never could mind their own business.

your moan sounds more like a whine as you can feel yourself coming to a climax, “so good” you babble nearly incoherently, your hand reaching down to grab georgia’s wrist so she couldn’t move away as you grind helplessly against her fingers. “so close, peach. you’re so good for me” georgia murmurs in your ear, only pushing you over the edge—you climax with a loud broken moan, breathing heavily as you desperately try to ground yourself. “that’s it, good girl” georgia mutters, whispering into your ear and you calm yourself down. your eyes flicker to hers as she pulls her fingers out of you—eyes locked onto yours as she slowly brings her fingers to her mouth, licking them slowly. your eyes widen in surprise and you feel your face heat up once more as she moans in delight, “i could go for some cookies right now, you?

“wait! but i didn’t get to touch you?” you reach out to grab her hips to pull her back down, but she only laughs heartily

“well. better follow me to the kitchen then, darling.”

a/n : i usually dont dabble in x readers or fic writing for that matter. but im obsessed with georgia so take this nonsense.

[s1xthirty]

let’s just talk about joe singh yall.

- he waited for georgia for 15 years

- named his horse milkshake after her

- he went to her WEDDING

- he watched her fall in love so many times and he still stayed

- he lets her throw and talk him around in s1 and 2 its so cute

- he made her feel safe enough to be herself around him and to talk about her problems

- he was the only one there for her consistently when she was struggling the most, someone she knew she could rely on

- he never judged or yelled at her EVER

- he punched her abuser because her own husband couldn’t

- then proceeds to apologize when she finds out because he was violent

- lets her be vulnerable with him and cry in his arms

- was respectful and apologizes when they kissed because he didn’t know if she would be more confused with everything that was going on

- was gentle with her when they finally kissed (when he held his hand behind hers so she wouldn’t hit it on the wall hshdjdncj)

- literally confesses to murdering all her husbands and he said “idc” !!!

bitches don’t want men they want joe singh.

[s1xthirty]

Seeing the lack of joe singh x reader fics breaks my heart

[s1xthirty]

service with a smile

joe singh (ginny and georgia) x reader

warnings: use of y/n (only one time), afab reader, fingering, smut, long as hell, rushed ending, grammar mistakes probably

a/n: this show sucks but raymond ablack has been fine since degrassi tng so i thought joe deserved a fanfic

joe singh is warm like the coffee he makes, he smells like cinnamon and old spice, and he always serves you with a smile. you come into the blue farm cafe almost every night, weird time to drink coffee but you hate mornings and only drink decaf anyway so it barely even counts, or at least that’s what you think. of course joe makes fun of you for your inability to drink real caffeine, and generally any drink that’s not coated in caramel and whip-cream, but you just tell him he has bad taste.

tonight was no different from any other night. you got off of work, grabbed your keys, and got on your way to the cafe. only it actually was sort of different. that was the short version of the story, what really happened was far less cute and cozy.

nevertheless, you arrived at the cafe. you felt stupid, walking into the almost empty building in your waitress uniform, mascara streaming down your face, 20 minutes till closing.

“joe?” you called out, tugging at your stupid dress. “uhm- is joe back there?” you leaned over the counter, quickly wiping your eyes.

and there he was. tall, pretty eyed, and that smile-that immediately dropped when he saw your face. “oh, y/n” his head tilted to one side. “hi joe” you replied, forcing yourself to smile, which caused a few salty tears to fall in your mouth. just then, he shouted in his loud voice, which you forgot he had sometimes because he always seemed so.. soft and gentle to you, “everyone get out, were closing early.”

it wasn’t that hard to clear the cafe, considering there were like two other people in there, but after he did, he didn’t waste a second waiting to hold your hand, wipe your tears, and ask you how you were feeling.

“ok” you nodded, watching him give you a look of disbelief. “not okay..” you stared at the blueberry scone that was now placed in front of you. and for some reason, the crying only amplified at that.

“shh.. shhh” joe walked around the counter, he somehow how seemed both calm and frantic at the same time. his hands tangled into your hair, holding your head to his chest as you sobbed. a gentle but strong hand stroked your hair, and for a moment you forgot about your shitty day, everything was perfect because he was there.

after a minute, you had relaxed in his arms, looking up at him with an embarrassed smile. “i probably look so.. stupid right now” you let out a breathless laugh. his soft smile returned, and he sat down across from you, letting the pressure of his arms fall from your shoulders, “not stupid, trust me, i’ve seen stupid and you’re nowhere close to it.”

you wiped a final tear from your face, stood up, and hugged him. “thank you” you whispered, head buried in his neck while his dark hair brushed your ear. his hands took a second to fall around your body, like he was surprised by the gesture. you pulled back only slightly to look at him and say “you didn’t have to do that for me”

and he whispered back “i did” before his hand cupped your face, and his lips met yours. he kissed you like he was telling you a secret that only you two knew, in a language that only you could understand. when he pulled away he didn’t stop holding you, whispering in your ear and leaving soft kisses on your neck. he stood up just to lean you against the counter and kiss you again, hands trailing down your body, untying your apron and letting it drop to the wood floor.

“come on” he whispered, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ears and taking your hand. he pulled you to the back of the cafe, pressing you up against the fridge door and kissing you all over.

“joe-“ you murmured between kisses, “let me take care of you” he whispered back, a hand slowly unbuttoning your dress. “if that’s okay” his breath fanned your ear. a nod was your only response. he let a finger trail down your collar bone “i want to hear you say yes” he kissed the spot he’d just traced with his finger, looking up at you with pleading brown eyes “can you do that for me?”

“yes” you replied almost immediately, seemingly more desperate than before. your hands began tugging at his shirt, helping him pull it off. joe was equally as desperate, your confirmation was enough for him to let that show. he finished unbuttoning your dress, letting it slide of your shoulders so you were left half naked. joe smiled, “you look so fucking good” he breathed, his bare chest to yours as you fidgeted with his belt. his hands trailed from your chest to in between your thighs, his knuckles balling up and running over your already damp panties.

“fuck- joe” your hands stopped unbuckling his belt and instead just gripped onto the loopholes of his jeans. your head leaned back, resting on the fridge door. “shh.. you just stopped crying, don’t start again” he laughed softly, his fingers curling under the lace fabric and pulling them down. his fingers ran over your folds, causing you to whimper again.

“it’s nice to know i have this affect on you” he hummed, his thumb beginning to rub your clit. he watched your reactions, responding to each of your moans. “that feel good?” his voice was quiet but low as he slipped in two fingers at once, pumping them slow, then fast. “so good” you cried, eyes rolling back as you felt a third finger join the previous two.

“joe- oh my god-“ your hands moved from his belt to grip his shoulders. “that’s it, good girl” his rough, tired voice praised. “come on.. cum for me.. please” he rasped in your ear before you did just that. for a few seconds, it felt like you were in heaven, like joe had brought you there. that feeling was followed by an insane amount of panting and sighs as you came down from your high.

joe simply retracted his fingers, licked them clean, and kissed your forehead. then he gave you that stupid smile of his and said “i’m glad you came tonight.”

[s1xthirty]

bad for you (a partners in crime!au) pairing: ben poindexter x sugarshot!reader warnings: violence, suggestive themes, guns, criminal activity, smoking, reader is a literal menace

the first time dex meets her, she’s halfway through stealing half a million dollars' worth of diamonds and laughing about it.

she’s chaos in a miniskirt, swinging a rhinestone-studded pistol like it's a lollipop. blood stains her silk gloves. diamonds spill from her bag like candy.

he’s supposed to kill her. those are fisk’s orders.

one bullet to the head. easy.

but dex just … watches.

watches the way she tilts her head, humming as she wipes a smudge of blood from her glossed lips. watches the way she prances over broken glass in four-inch heels, giggling like this is just another saturday night.

watches her light a cigarette with a shaking hand, like adrenaline is her favorite perfume.

"you gonna shoot me, cowboy?" she purrs without even turning around, voice dripping sugar and venom.

he doesn't answer. he should. he should finish the job.

instead, he steps forward, gun still raised. she turns — slowly, coyly, like a girl who’s never been scared of monsters. probably because she’s the worst one of them all.

"if you’re not here to kill me," she says, tapping ash onto the marble floor, "then you’re here to help."

and god help him, he holsters his gun.

she smiles — a grin too wicked to be holy — and grabs his hand. presses a velvet pouch of diamonds into his palm.

"partners in crime," she sing-songs.

somewhere, in the back of his mind, dex knows this is bad. bad for the mission. bad for the plan. bad for him.

but when she blows smoke into his mouth with a filthy little smirk, dex thinks maybe he’s tired of being good.

maybe he wants to be bad.

for her.

later, when they’re speeding down the highway in a stolen car, sirens screaming behind them, she laughs and kicks her glittery heels onto the dashboard.

"you’re not so scary," she teases, resting her head against his shoulder.

and dex, stone-cold killer, just smiles.

maybe he’s not.

not when it comes to her.

not when she smells like smoke and danger and strawberry lip gloss, and not when she’s looking at him like he hung the damn moon.

she kisses him at a red light.

teeth and tongue, sweet and bloody.

and dex kisses her back, all teeth, all ruin, already in too deep.

already hers.

click here to be added to the taglist

taglist -> @soularsss @jungkookmiflacoo @htchnr @regnumimaginarium @s1xthirty @imnez-daydreams @Haythamspsychoticgirlfriend @gossvedd @mitskis-tall-child @lanasgirlfr

series masterlist

[s1xthirty]

ミshaky hands 𑣲 B. POINDEXTER.

𖦹 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭. 𖦹 𝐛𝐮𝐲 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐤𝐨-𝐟𝐢!

「 ꜜsummary,, you come home to check on Dex, finding him halfway through a panic attack. so you help him get through it. author notes at the end. 」

「 ꜜcontent,, hurt/comfort ⋆ vague panic attack mention ⋆ lots of sweat ⋆ soft comfort. ꜜwc,, 0,6k. 」

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 𝐇𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐑. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦, 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!

" Dex? " you call out after entering his apartment. you two had set to meet about half an hour ago, and if Dex was anything— it was precise and punctual.

he was never late, always early enough to scout out where you would be meeting, but not too early for it to come off as odd. so when you hadn't seen him anywhere, it worried you.

you turn the corner to his living room, your heart sinking yet also feeling lighter upon finding him. he's sat on the floor, his hands are shaking as he hangs his head between his knees. his headphones sitting snug on his head and his tape player beside him.

you swallow, kneeling in front of him with enough distance to minimise the potential threat feeling, and close enough for him to notice you.

the moment your knees his the floor his head snaps up, wide and wild eyes meeting yours. your face softens, a small, reassuring smile making it's way to your lips. " hey, i missed you today. " you softly speak.

he swallows harshly, and you notice his shaky hands twitch with a telltale sign as his legs painfully lower to then cross.

you nod at the silent sign, slowly moving closer on your knees. you place your hands gently on his shoulders before carefully moving a knee over his thigh. you move the other over too, settling yourself in his trembling lap.

the moment you've let yourself settle with your full weight, his strong arms instantly wrap around your waist and his face is buried into the crook of your neck.

a sad smile takes over, breathing deeply as your fingers tangle themselves into his hair, holding him tightly against you. not that he really needs it, with the desperate force he's grasping onto you with.

" that's it, listen to my heartbeat. " you whisper, nails gently scratching against his scalp. and he does, ear pressed against your chest like a lifeline as he slowly calms down.

the two of you stay like that for a while, his breathing slowly slowing down and his heartbeat no longer threatening to burst out of his chest. his sweaty grip slowly loosens over time, though still holding you close against him.

" there we go, just keep listening. i'm right here. " you hum, never once stopping the movements of your fingers.

by the time he pulls his face from your chest the sun has started to set, letting you know it's getting late. you smooth a hand down to his cheek, your thumb rubbing gentle circles into the soft skin as you softly smile at him.

he swallows, a guilty look overtaking him. " i'm sorry i was late— "

" hey now, " you angle his face to yours, " none of that. " you shake your head. " whatever happened is not your fault. you know we can always reschedule. "

he nods against your hand, tiredly blinking up at you with wet lashes. you nod to the window behind you, " lets get you showered and then off to bed, shall we? " he nods again, his sweaty palms brushing off against his knees.

you move off his lap, standing to your height with a grunt. you hold out your hands— knowing that Dex is much stronger than you— a gesture that makes him feel cared for nonetheless.

he takes your hands, hoisting himself up. his aching joints groan in protest. you smile up at him, taking his hand in both of yours behind your back as you lead him to his bathroom.

" hey, Dex? " your own voice a tad hoarse from not speaking for a while.

he meets your eyes in an instant, waiting for your words. you help him pull off his sweat soaked shirt before continuing. your hand smoothes over his sweaty chest, settling directly above his heart. " how you're doing will always, be more important than a date. "

he nods, though you know he's thinking otherwise. you gently turn his face to yours with your other hand cupping his cheek, his eyes flitting back to yours. " it's more important than anything else to me. do you understand? " you say firmly.

he swallows, " yes. " he croaks out, his voice raw and scratchy.

you smile, nodding. you slowly lean in, moving your hand aside to press a kiss against the skin above his heart. you pull away after a few seconds, looking up at him. " now lets get you showered and ready for bed, okay? " gently guiding him towards his spacious shower.

「 authors note,, y'all Dex makes me feel so much 🥹 i love him so dearly and find myself in his struggles so much 😭. 」

[s1xthirty]

“What if I write it and it’s bad-”

WHAT IF YOU WRITE IT AND ITS GOOD? WHAT IF YOU WRITE IT AND ITS EXACTLY WHAT YOU WANTED? WHAT THEN????

[s1xthirty]

Write it shitty, write it scared, write it without a clue but don't you be so spineless and have an AI write fanfic for you.

[s1xthirty]

dinner is served

Summary: adrian's been coming home angry, hangry more like it. but luckily you found a way to satisfy his hunger.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI! smut, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving later on), swearing, reader is only wearing a slutty apron, violence mentioned at the beginning.

Word Count: 1.3k

adrian had been coming home angry. frustrated more like it. he’d slam the door on his way in and wouldn’t say a word to you, unless it was “goodnight”, “i love you” or “see you tonight babe.” 

seeing as the new stricter police laws were passed in evergreen, adrian had a hard time fighting crime and finding any bad guys to kill. the police were scouting and monitoring every absent alley, every brawny bar and every crowded club around town, attempting to decrease the amount of night time crime. and maybe possibly reduce the so called ‘vigilante’ from going on a killing spree every night or so. it did good for the town of course, but for you? totally different story. 

adrian didn’t even feel hungry after entering the door of your small apartment. saying, “i’m not eating”, or, “the vague amount of blood soaking the streets completely eliminated my quench for vengeance” (with his fists clenched and a comical frown plastered on his face). he wouldn’t bother to cuddle with you, nor even hug or kiss you on the way out. what was worse, was that his method of destroying your pussy to release his stress wouldn’t work. his irritation leaked right onto you, leading to various lonely nights of frustrated moaning and an unfulfilled desire left empty, since he wasn’t even bothered to fuck his fingers into you or jerk off with your thighs. you’d desperately had to think of something, before your mind wandered to an astronomical idea. 

so there you were prepped on the dinner table, your delicate body lying perfectly under the thrifted coloured glass chandelier, with shades of crimson, indigo and sage glistening on your skin. you were draped in only a tiny white apron, making sure it was slutty enough to show a delicious amount of chest and a sneak peek at your thighs. you hope he enjoys the surprise, otherwise the effort you put on doing your makeup and hair would’ve gone to a disastrous waste. 

you tense slightly as you hear the front door click, keys jangling and heavy footsteps trodding into the hallway. weren’t you glad the door was right in front of the dining table, perfectly leading adrian’s eyes to see the meal you planned just for him. your meal. although his visor was dark enough to cover his eyes, you could clearly see his trail of sight bore up and down your figure, his head trailing along the curvature of your body. the red light from the chandelier accompanied the slight flush of pink in your cheeks, you forgot how much his dreamy gaze took you off guard. 

“surprise, pumpkin. you hungry?” you say, angling yourself to accentuate your hips, fuelling his hunger even more. 

“holy shit babe…,” he says, huffing as he rips off his mask, as if the mere sight of you completely took his breath away. a part of him regretted ignoring you for so long, realising that not dealing with frustration had taken a deep, intimate part away from the both of you. was it getting hot in here or was it just his suit? 

“…im fucking starving.” he throws his mask on the floor, walking over to you as if he really was. he leans on top of you, pulling you down towards him by your hips and crashes his lips onto yours. your tongues battle with each other, fighting and tasting each inch of your mouths. the feeling was exhilarating, thrilling, it made you feel alive again. the long nights away from his warmth finally led to this moment, and you weren’t letting go. your legs grasp around his waist, pulling him closer and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. he moves his lips down your jaw and to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and hungry licks along the way. resting on one elbow, you use your other hand to intertwine with his hair, following his movements down your body. 

his hands find the back of the apron, untying the strings flawlessly while tasting every bit of skin on your figure. he discards the apron, his lips finally reaching to the surface of your inner thighs. your head lifts up, tilting down to enjoy the view. 

“wait, go a little slow…it’s been a long time- oh fuckk..”

he wastes no time in diving straight between your legs, latching onto your soaking wet core. he starts with quick kitten licks, savouring your taste on his tongue, before swallowing your pussy whole and wrapping his hands around your thighs. you throw your head back in pleasure, legs squeezing around his head in immediate stimulation. for the long months he’s spent away from your body, you forgot how godly he was with his tongue, flattening it and running it across the surface of your cunt. his nose presses against your clit, exhausting a whine from you. he smiles into your pussy and moves his tongue upwards, circling around the sensitive bud and locking his lips around it. 

he eats like a man starved, like he’s savouring his last drop of water in a scorching desert. as if your essence alone was that cold refreshing glass of ice cold water at 3am, his quench fulfilled as the pleasured sounds you make comfort his ears, fuelling him to go further. he presses his face in between your thighs more, earning a whiny moan from him. with how guttural it sounded, it seemed he missed you too. his hands work and knead at your thighs, pushing them together to perfectly suffocate him enough to exhaustion. he pushes his tongue deeper into your cunt, with the pressure of his nose grinding against your clit perfectly sending you to orbit. your legs quiver, and your eyes roll back, hopelessly whimpering from the pleasure. 

“fuck, fuck, fuck…adrian please, s-slow down…i’m gonna cum soon..,” you can’t help but plea. he ignores you, humming satisfactorily into your cunt and sending a warm vibration up your cervix. the scene is lewd, wet sounds of his tongue and your slick merging to create a symphony of lust. you feel your stomach twist, and cant help but buck upwards to meet his tongue. 

“mm, cum baby…let me taste you again..fuck..,” he trails off, getting lost in the moment. his hands slide around the outside of your hips and lock at your stomach, pushing you back down to finish you off. as stars cloud your vision, you cum in his mouth, whining loudly into the empty room of the kitchen and feeling your eyes roll back into your skull. he licks up all of your release, slurping up ant leftovers and ensuring no drops are left behind. he makes a show of popping his mouth off your sensitive pussy, giving one last kiss to your overstimulated clit and licking a stripe up your inner thigh, pecking the skin before standing back up. as proud as he tried to look, you could see his legs tremble slightly, as well as the imprint of his dick begging to be released from his pants. 

with the amount of strengh you have left, you sit up and hop off the table, turning him and pushing him down on the chair. he’s surprised, hands grabbing your waist as he notices your quivering legs. 

“babe, that was amazing…but no need to repay the favour-“ you cut him off with a kiss before dropping to your knees, unbuckling his belt and pulling his cock out from his suit.

“i know love, but i’m still hungry…,” you trail off, watching his eyes dilate as you finally indulge in your meal.

[s1xthirty]

Um the lack of francesca bridgerton fics here is crazyyy. I need more to feed my obsession before i do it myself 😑

[s1xthirty]

and if i said i’d wanna make out with lottie while she was covered in blood?

[s1xthirty]

me after episode 4:

[s1xthirty]

MATT MURDOCK COOKING DOMESTIC SCRNES FUCK IM WET

[s1xthirty]

“forgive my engineering background if this feels a bit technical”

[s1xthirty]

DICK GRAYSON IS YOUR COWORKER +18⠀.⠀.⠀.⠀💭

Coworker Dick who flirts with everyone in the office but only wants you. He’s all winks and easy smiles, the golden boy who makes even the most boring meetings bearable—but it’s you he always circles back to. You, who gets the first coffee he picks up in the morning. You, who gets his dumb little notes scribbled onto reports with “you looked good today” in the margins. You, who catches the way his fingers twitch every time you brush past him, like he’s aching to touch you but knows better than to do it where someone else might see.

Coworker Dick who thought he was normal before you. He thought he had a decent work-life balance, that he could function like a regular person. But now? Now he can’t go five minutes without thinking about you. His whole fucking day revolves around you—watching the clock, waiting for lunch breaks, finding any excuse to be near you.

Coworker Dick who jerks off to the thought of you in the office bathroom. It’s pathetic, shameful, but he can’t stop. All it takes is a glance at you—the way your lips part slightly when you’re focused, the way your nails tap against the desk, the scent of your perfume lingering when you walk past him— and he’s hard. So fucking hard, sitting there at his desk, trying to focus on emails when all he can think about is you.

Coworker Dick who sits in a stall, biting his fist, stroking himself fast and desperate, whispering your name. He pictures your thighs wrapped around his head, your hand gripping his hair, your voice telling him how good he is. And when he comes, messy and quick, muffling his groans into his sleeve— he’s already aching for more. Already fixing his tie, washing his hands, stepping back into the office with a flushed face and a new plan to get you alone.

Coworker Dick who turns into such a needy wreck the second you let him have you. One drunken work happy hour is all it takes—his mouth crashing onto yours in a dark booth, hands shaking as they slide under your skirt like he can’t believe this is real. And you let him. You let him drop to his knees right there, between your legs, breathless, whispering, “I’ll be good, I’ll be so good for you.” And when you guide him out of the bar and into a taxi, dragging him home like a stray puppy, he follows without hesitation.

Coworker Dick who doesn’t stop begging once you let him taste you. He eats you out like a man possessed, moaning like he’s the one getting off. Tongue sloppy, needy, greedy, pushing deep while he ruts against the mattress like some depraved thing, whimpering when you tug his hair. “Please—please let me make you come—” He’s gasping between sucks, his perfect lips shiny with spit and slick, shaking when you grind against his face and come all over his tongue. And even then, he doesn’t stop—just licks it all up, fucking obsessed with how you taste.

Coworker Dick who acts like nothing happened the next morning—except now, his texts are filthier. Thinking about you. Miss your taste. Can I see you tonight? Please?

Coworker Dick who can’t keep his hands off you at work. He’s insatiable, desperate for any excuse to touch you. A hand ghosting over your lower back as he leans in to “help” you with some spreadsheet bullshit. A knee pressing between your thighs under the desk during a meeting. Fingers slipping beneath the hem of your skirt just to feel. And when lunch rolls around, when everyone’s busy laughing and chatting in the break room—he’s already pulling you into the nearest bathroom stall, dropping to his knees like it’s a prayer. "Please—fuck, I need it."

Coworker Dick who sobs into your cunt like a fucking starved man. His pretty, flushed face buried between your thighs, licking, sucking, devouring you like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. His tongue flicking your clit fast and messy, lips latching on like he’s kissing your mouth instead of your pussy. His moans vibrating against you, shameless and loud, muffled only by the wet suck of his mouth. And when you yank his hair, grind against his face, drench his chin— he fucking shakes, shuddering through his own untouched orgasm, just from eating you out.

Coworker Dick who follows you home every night now. He doesn’t even ask anymore—just shows up at your door, blue eyes wide, lip bitten, already half-hard in his slacks. And when you let him in, he strips in seconds, sprawling out on your bed, already panting like a bitch in heat.

Coworker Dick who lives to be fucked. "Please, I’ve been good," he whines, voice shaky, presenting himself to you like a gift. And you know what he wants—his favorite strap, thick and black, the one that makes his pretty mouth go slack the second you lube it up. And when you push in, slow at first, letting him adjust—he’s already pushing back, already begging for more. "Harder, please—fuck me harder—"

And you give it to him. You pound him into the mattress, grip firm on his hips, dragging him back onto your strap with every thrust. He’s babbling, voice breaking with high, needy moans, body shaking as he takes it deeper, rougher, harder. His cock is leaking untouched, dripping, twitching, his stomach clenching every time you slam into him just right.

Coworker Dick who loses his fucking mind when you flip him over. You hoist his legs up, pinning him beneath you, thrusting deep while his eyes roll back, mouth open, whimpering like the pretty little plaything he is. His hands scrabble at your arms, his voice breaking when you finally fist his cock, jerking him hard and fast while you wreck him. "Oh God—oh fuck—" He cums so fucking hard, ropes of it splattering his chest, his stomach, his chin, his whole body trembling under you, overstimulated and wrecked.

Coworker Dick who clings to you after. Face flushed, breathing heavy, curling into you, pressing soft, lazy kisses to your skin. You clean him up, stroke his hair, and he just sighs, content, needy, yours.

Coworker Dick who doesn’t care about labels. "I’m not your boyfriend," he says one night, naked in your bed, still marked up from your nails, still bruised from your grip. "I don’t need to be. Just… use me whenever you want." And he means it. Every desperate inch of him.

Coworker Dick who gets jealous. He doesn’t mean to. He knows you’re not dating. But when he sees you laughing a little too much with someone else? When some guy from accounting puts a hand on your shoulder? It drives him fucking crazy. He won’t say anything—not out loud. But suddenly, he’s there. Right at your side. Interrupting conversations, finding reasons to steal you away. “Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?” Hand firm on your wrist, pulling you into an empty hallway, crowding you against the wall.

And when you smirk, when you tease, “Jealous, Grayson?” he groans, pressing against you, rutting his hard cock against your thigh. “What if I am?”

Coworker Dick who tries to be normal but fails. He texts you constantly now. At work: Miss you already. When’s lunch? You looked so fucking hot in that meeting. Couldn’t stop staring. At night: Can I come over? Please? I’ll be good. I’ll do anything.

Coworker Dick who always finds ways to mark you. He doesn’t like seeing you go to work without some reminder of him on your skin. Hickeys on your thighs, bruises on your hips, fingerprints on your waist where he held you too tight. He fucking lives for that shit. "Wear a skirt tomorrow," he murmurs after fucking you stupid, panting against your neck. “Want you thinking about me every time you cross your legs.”

Coworker Dick who wants you to ruin him completely. You can see it in his hungry, desperate eyes every time you push him down onto the bed. Every time you pull his hair, shove him onto his back, climb on top of him and ride him until he’s shaking. "I’ll do anything for you," he whispers against your lips, aching, devoted, lost. And the worst part? He fucking means it.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, repost or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[s1xthirty]

the head of the snake

pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader

summary: matt murdock comes home to a stranger in his apartment.

warnings: swearing, mentions of drug & human trafficking

word count: 2.3k

a/n: ahhhh happy born again day to all who celebrate!!! i'm so fucking excited to finally put this out. i'm so excited that so many of y'all are so excited. I hope y'all love this as much as I do. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

[next chapter coming 3/21] | [series masterlist]

The unfamiliar heartbeat was calm. The rhythm was steady. The lungs expanded and collapsed in relaxed intervals. The blood was in no rush to pump through the highways of veins and vessels that branched throughout the body. For a split second, Matt almost thought the stranger that was in his apartment sitting on his couch might be asleep, but their heartbeat wasn’t nearly slow enough to be unconscious.

Matt had been standing outside the front door of his loft, which was locked, for several minutes. His head was cocked slightly to the side as he focused his heightened senses on the foreign presence in his home. All Matt could decipher was that it was a woman, and not one he’d ever encountered before. There was nothing about her that sparked recognition in his brain. He had no idea who she was, or how she’d managed to get inside.

Slipping his key into the lock as silently as possible, he twisted it to the left until there was a faint click, and as he turned the knob and pushed the door open, he braced himself for whatever, and whoever, was waiting for him.

His steps were calculated and careful, avoiding the worn wooden floorboards that creaked under even the slightest pressure of weight. He kept his back flat against the half wall that separated the entryway from the kitchen, stopping a few inches before it ended and made his presence visible in the open layout. He had the advantage that his couch faced his bedroom on the opposite side of the apartment, which meant her back was to him. 

She hadn’t budged at all, her heart rate remained steady, and she sat comfortably with her legs crossed. Her head was tilted slightly towards the right, presumably looking out the two large paned windows that interrupted the aged rows of rust colored brick.

Keeping his footsteps silent, he slowly stalked towards her like a predator advancing on prey. Just as the toe of his shoe reached the edge of the area rug, she suddenly spoke up.

“You’re home early. I wasn’t expecting you for another hour or so.”

Matt immediately froze, his right knee slightly bent in a halted half step forward. He hadn’t made a single sound, and he hadn’t picked up on any indication that she even knew he was there. 

“Who the hell are you?”

There was a faint twitch at the edges of her lips. Amusement. He could hear it in her voice when she spoke again.

“You know, for a blind man, you’re very perceptive. But then again, you aren’t just any blind man, are you Matthew?”

The way she said his name was almost taunting, emphasizing the fact that she knew it, just like she knew where he lived, and apparently how to break into his apartment. As she subtly turned her head to look at him over her shoulder, he straightened up, squaring his shoulders as he clenched his jaw.

“Answer the question.”

She took her time as she stood up, smoothing her dress down with her hands, casually walking around the edge of the couch to face him. Matt clenched his hands into fists at his sides, his body tense as his heightened senses worked overtime to decipher if this woman was a threat. She stopped a few feet away, and he could feel her eyes on him, looking him up and down. He detected the faintest of a smirk at the edge of her mouth and the quirk of her left brow.

“Are you always this welcoming to your guests?”

Matt wasn’t used to not having the upperhand. It was unfamiliar territory, and he didn’t like it. Trying to tip the power dynamic in his favor, one that he was still figuring out, he took two bold steps towards her.

“Guest implies an invitation.”

There wasn’t a trace of fear, or even apprehension in her body when he advanced towards her. Instead, she let out a deep exhale through her nose and folded her arms over her chest. 

“Fine. Since you’re not in the mood for small talk, I’ll skip the bullshit and cut to the chase. My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I’m here on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Matt’s defensive stance faltered slightly, puzzlement creasing between his dark brows as he cocked his head to the side subtly.

“S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

“Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. We’re a-”

“I know what S.H.I.E.L.D. is.”

Matt countered, cutting her off, a hint of annoyance creeping into his tone. He knew exactly what the organization was and what they did. What he didn’t know was what the hell that had to do with him.

“Then why did you ask with that stupid look on your face?”

Matt pursed his lips in a firm line at her quick rebuttal. Everytime he tried to seize dominance over this new unfamiliar dynamic, the scales of power shifted in her favor. It was grating on his nerves in a way that had his skin feeling several degrees warmer and his suit jacket suddenly heavy and unbearable.

Beginning to shrug the jacket off his broad shoulders, he carelessly tossed it forward in frustration, landing perfectly over the back of the couch, a movement that did not go unnoticed by her.

“And what does S.H.I.E.L.D. want with me?”

“What, you think we don’t have a department dedicated to you street level people?”

In the midst of rolling his left sleeve up to his forearm, Matt abruptly froze, two of his fingers still tucked under the crisp fabric of his dress shirt and his thumb hovering over the folded fabric. The way she said it was so casual, but there was an undertone of implication, something extremely subtle but consequently unnerving.

She couldn’t possibly know. 

Matt decided to do what he normally did in the courtroom when trying to get the other side to reveal their hand; he called her bluff.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She let out a deep exhale of disappointment through her nose, giving him a pointed look.

“I thought we agreed to skip the bullshit.”

Everything about this woman Matt found exceedingly infuriating. Here she was, standing in the middle of his apartment, that she’d broken into, calmly dangling the idea over his head that she seemed to know exactly who he really was. If she did know, which Matt didn’t know how the hell she possibly could, that put the knowledge of his biggest secret in her hands, and it gave her a power over him he wasn’t ready to submit to. There was a feeling in his gut, like a sixth heightened sense, that whatever the reason was that this woman was actually here was about to alter his life in a big way.

Matt continued to roll the fabric up until it reached about an inch below his elbow, and he steeled his expression while he undid the button on the cuff of his right wrist and repeated the action of rolling up his other sleeve.

“What do you know?”

“Just assume I know everything.”

Letting out an aggravated exhale through his nose, Matt placed his hands on his hips and leaned his weight on his left foot, his fingers brushing over the leather of his belt.

“That is frustratingly vague.”

She could hear him growing more and more annoyed by the second, and see it on his face as well as in his body language. One of her brows lifted in amusement as the faintest of a smile graced the edge of her lips, and she tilted her head to the side in a gesture of faux confusion.

“Is it?”

The sound of bone grinding against bone as Matt grit his teeth in growing vexation made him twitch subtly in discomfort, the noise it caused like sharp nails being dragged across a chalkboard in slow motion in his own ears. He reached up to loosen his tie around his neck, yanking on the fabric like he was giving slack to a noose. He unbuttoned the small button of the collar with one hand, and the larger one beneath it, tugging the fabric away from his neck. 

His indignation always seemed to turn into physical discomfort that made his clothes feel entirely too restricting and his skin too warm. The sweat that began to seep from his pores was like liquified anger trying to find a way out of his body when he wasn’t able to expel it with action.

“What do you want with me?”

“I don’t want you. They do. You weren’t exactly my first choice.”

The look of offense that flashed across his face almost pulled a genuine laugh out of her, but she kept her expression neutral, even though he could feel the way her lips twitched in amusement again. She turned to retrieve something from her purse and then took a step forward, holding it out towards Matt. 

“Here.”

His curiosity piqued, Matt extended his hand, his fingers brushing over the smooth cardstock of a thick file that he grasped in his hand.

“What’s this?”

“A folder.”

Matt shot her a displeased look, his lips pursed as his fingers brushed over what felt like an embossed symbol in the middle.

“I meant what’s inside, smartass.”

“Paper.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

Matt muttered under his breath, which did earn a real smile from her as her brows raised in surprise.

“Wow, your file said you were Catholic. Then again, I suppose taking the Lord’s name in vain isn’t the worst thing you do on a daily basis.”

“I’ll add it to the list for confession.”

Matt retorted dryly, cracking open the file as his fingers began to trace back and forth over the documents. Each section had a tab with a label that was also in Braille. If he wasn’t so annoyed, he would’ve been impressed by how meticulously organized the file was, and how accessible. A faint furrow creased the middle of his forehead as he read the contents inside. 

It was a detailed file on a local Russian gang here in New York that Matt had been investigating for months now. It wasn’t the mafia that had worked for Fisk. Those brothers were a daydream compared to this new organization he’d been trying to take down. The Russian mafia’s primary focus had been drug trade, but the Krasnaya Pravaya Ruka’s operation was far more sinister.

A few months ago, a new player had seemingly seized control over the other crime organizations almost over night. With Fisk out of the way, the throne had been open for the taking, and while there weren’t many organizations left after The Punisher had wiped out the top three gangs in the city and Matt had disbanded Fisk’s entire operation in one way or another, there were still a few left fighting for power. But in the midst of the chaos, someone had stepped in, and they seemed to cast an even bigger shadow than Fisk ever did.

Matt had been tirelessly working his way through low level thugs dealing on the streets. The leader was smart, and clearly had the resources to operate efficiently enough to move millions of dollars worth of product around and the stealth to do it silently in the shadows. The drug dealers on the corners were just pawns, convenient pieces to move around to distract from the rest of the board. It took four whole months before Matt discovered what the real product was.

People.

The drugs were just a front for the human trafficking ring that had formed right here under his nose in the city. They were smoke and mirrors to distract local law enforcement, leading them down a never ending wild goose chase of one expendable dealer after another that had no real connection to each other. It left the NYPD, and Matt, consistently at dead ends. While they had been following the powder trail, humans were being imported and exported like mere livestock in cargo at the docks.

“Pier Nineteen. Saturday night, eleven-thirty. Bring your little red number.”

As she grabbed her purse and slipped it over her shoulder, turning to head towards the door, Matt’s expression twisted up in puzzlement and irritation. His hand swiftly darted out to grab her wrist, not hard enough to be aggressive, but firm enough to halt her in place.

“Whoa whoa whoa, I’m not going anywhere with you, not until you tell me what the hell is going on.”

She’d stiffened when he grabbed her, and he heard her heart rate rise slightly, but not in fear. Her free hand subtly closed in a half clasped fist, a defensive motion that didn’t go unnoticed by Matt. 

“If I give you a hint, are you gonna quit pouting?”

Matt’s lips quickly pursed in annoyance as he grit his teeth again. He let go of her wrist and let out another frustrated exhale through his nose.

“I’m not-”

“That trafficking ring you’re trying to single handedly take down? You’ve barely scratched the fucking surface. You want the head of the snake or what?”

tags: @the-swift-escape @lambmurdock @lunakkey @lfdybadgirlsdoitw @devilmurdock64 @moonyinthestars @suits-and-smirks @day-dreaming-goddess @natashasotherhalf @rebel13lion39 @pixelfaery @ebsmind

the devil and the widow soundtrack

taglist sign up for updates

[s1xthirty]

Pedro Pascal as Reed Richards / Mister Fantastic.