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chvoswxtch · 1 month

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first date

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: frank finally asks you out on a date.

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

word count: 6.7k

a/n: y'all have only been waiting seventeen chapters for these two to finally go on a date, but the moment has arrived! i'd like to give a shoutout to the main character of this chapter: frank's belt. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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Before you could even think about getting out of Frank’s truck and heading inside the Bulletin, his large hand reached over to grasp your own that was in your lap, giving it a gentle squeeze to capture your attention. When you turned to look back at him, there was a nervous glint in his eye. Nervous was not an emotion you were used to seeing Frank wear. As a matter of fact, you weren’t sure you had ever seen it, and it triggered your own nerves in response.

“I wanna ask you somethin’.”

“Okay.”

Despite the softness of your tone, your voice seemed to echo in the confined space of his truck. The way Frank’s warm brown eyes were darting back and forth between your own made it apparent that he seemed to be struggling with whatever it was that he wanted to ask. To soothe him, you turned your palm over in his large hand so that you could lace your fingers together and lightly stroked your thumb along one of his scarred knuckles affectionately. After an agonizing moment of tense silence, he let out a deep exhale through his nose and his rough voice broke through the quietness that had settled.

“What are you doin’ Saturday night?”

When the implication behind his question clicked in your head, a huge grin instantly split your lips completely apart to the point that your cheeks ached, and your eyes lit up with pure excitement. Tilting your head to the side a bit in a teasing manner, you faintly narrowed your eyes into a look of faux suspicion.

“Frank Castle, are you asking me out on a date?”

Frank blew out a puff of air as he turned his head to look out the windshield, letting out a quiet chuckle as the edge of his lips quirked up in a crooked half smile. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, and when he turned to look at you again, his gaze flickered between your lips and your eager stare.

“Tryin’ to.”

Sinking your top teeth down into your bottom lip, you turned your body completely in the passenger seat so that you were facing Frank, still holding his hand in your lap while you sat up straight. As you looked over at him expectantly, Frank cocked one of his dark brows in silent questioning, prompting you to arch one of your own in response.

“Well, go on.”

“Go on, what?”

“Ask me.”

“I just did.”

“No, you said you wanted to. I didn’t hear a formal query.”

Frank rolled his eyes as he let his head fall back against the headrest, shaking it slightly while he let out a lighthearted scoff.

“You don’t ever make anythin’ easy, do ya?”

“I thought you figured that out by now.”

Frank clicked his tongue against his cheek, but you could see how hard he was fighting his amusement by the way the corners of his mouth twitched. Letting out an impatient huff, you rolled your own eyes and squeezed his hand to get him to look at you.

“Oh come on, do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this? I want the whole experience.”

That got Frank’s attention. Turning his head to look at you, his thick brows rose up his forehead a bit, but only for a moment. His gaze then tapered while a cocky smirk lifted the left corner of his mouth upwards, and he motioned in your direction with his chin.

“How long?”

Heat abruptly flushed in your cheeks when your brain caught up with the confession your mouth let slip. Narrowing your own eyes at Frank, you let go of his hand and crossed your arms over your chest defiantly.

“You have thirty seconds before I get out of this truck.”

Frank chuckled deeply, causing light crinkles to fan around his eye sockets, and the unfiltered joy on his face made your heart feel like it was going to burst out of your chest. It never failed to amaze you how different Frank looked when he smiled. It was almost like looking at an entirely different person. One that wasn’t haunted by a separate lifetime of trauma and unbearable loss. He finally lifted his large hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Alright, alright.”

Twisting in his seat to face you, Frank brought his arm over to slide along the headrest next to you, and he slipped his thick fingers into your hair, moving them downwards until he could brush the rough pad of his thumb along your cheekbone delicately.

“Sweetheart, can I take ya out Saturday night?”

Almost instinctively, you melted into Frank’s touch, your cheek finding its home within his palm. There was a boyish grin on his lips, and you were tempted to climb across the space between you and straddle his lap so you could taste them. A sense of giddiness was fluttering in your stomach, and a smile born of pure happiness was strewn across your mouth.

“It’s a date.”

»»———　　———««

Frank was the epitome of a perfect gentleman. He showed up at your door five minutes early, although you had a slight suspicion he had been lingering in your hallway for far longer than that, and he had a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand. Either you didn’t remember telling him what your favorite flower was, or Frank just really knew you. It was a simple, perhaps old fashioned gesture, but it warmed your heart. No one had ever gotten you flowers before, except for your mom.

To your surprise, Frank wore a black tie with his navy blue button down that was tucked into his dark jeans, and even threw a black blazer on top. You hadn’t seen him this dressed up since the night of the gala. It was kind of odd seeing him look so cleaned up.

The restaurant he took you to had to be one of the nicest places you had ever stepped foot in. It looked like one of those places that charged you just to breathe their air, and you felt severely underdressed in the simple black dress you wore, even though Frank had complimented it at least three times on the walk over.

A pristine white cloth was draped over the square table complete with the most shiny silverware you had ever seen resting on opposite sides of an eggshell colored plate. In the middle of the table was a small glass half sphere that had an ivory tinted tea light candle inside, creating an ambient glow in the dim lighting. Continuing the chivalry, Frank pulled out your chair for you and you quietly thanked him before he rounded the table to take his own seat. Your eyes were quickly drawn to the floor to ceiling grand windows to your right that had a breathtaking view of the Brooklyn Bridge all lit up. It was the perfect romantic backdrop.

But it wasn’t you.

And it wasn’t Frank.

He couldn’t sit still. He was shifty, tugging at the black tie around his neck, subtly bouncing his knee under the table. Frank’s eyes were constantly darting around, a habit of his you had grown accustomed to. Anywhere you two went, he was always hypervigilant, constantly sitting where he had a whole view of whatever place he was in, and a clear sight of all the entrances and exits. But tonight it almost seemed worse. It was blatantly obvious he was completely out of his element. He hadn’t said one word to you in the five minutes since the two of you had sat down at your table. Frank’s thick eyebrows were furrowed, an array of warring emotions flashing across his face while looking down at the sleek menu in his large hands.

Frank wasn’t the only one that felt out of place. You couldn’t hardly read a word on the menu, and the price for one single glass of wine made your eyes nearly pop out of your head. A few more minutes of silence passed before you glanced up at Frank again, and you noticed a few beads of sweat building along his hairline. He looked as uncomfortable as you felt. The other people sitting at neighboring tables around yours reminded you of people you had been introduced to at a dinner party with Steven once. It wasn’t as much of a dinner party as it was an excuse for Steven’s parents to show off their ridiculous multi-million dollar home, inviting New York’s elite to kiss his father’s ass while the attendees compared shiny new toys, scandals, and mistresses. That had been one of the most miserable nights of your life.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when the waiter approached the table, hands clasped behind his back, looking between you and Frank with a polite smile. He was tall and thin, freshly shaven, and his dirty blonde hair was perfectly quaffed. He was dressed as if he were attending a black and white gala, not waiting tables.

“Good evening, and welcome to Brasserie. My name is Andrew. It is our pleasure to have you dining with us this evening. Shall I start you with a glass of our 2014 Brunello di Montalcino ma’am? Perhaps a Manhattan with our twelve year barrel aged rye whiskey for you sir? They both pair well with our Seared Foie Gras.”

Frank was staring at the waiter like he was speaking a language he had never heard of. His thick brows were creased in evident confusion, and you had to attempt to stifle a laugh at just how adorable he looked in that moment. You cleared your throat to gain the waiter’s attention and gave him a polite smile of your own.

“Can we have a moment to look over the menu, please?”

Andrew gave a faint nod of his head, his hands still clasped behind his back. That polite smile looked like it was permanent.

“Of course, ma’am. I’ll be back in a few moments.”

After he retreated, you looked across the table at Frank curiously.

“How did you find this place, exactly?”

Hearing the suspicion in your voice, Frank adjusted restlessly in his chair, reaching up to tug at the tie around his neck with a low grunt. His eyes darted around the restaurant for the thousandth time since you had sat down.

“Bill recommended it. Pulled some strings, got us a table.”

Suddenly it all clicked. No wonder Frank seemed so uncomfortable. He didn’t pick this place; Billy did. This restaurant had Billy Russo written all over it. With that new information, the way he was all dressed up now made sense too. On one hand, it made you grin knowing Frank had gone to Billy for help planning for your first date. It was so…cute. You would’ve given anything to be a fly on the wall for that conversation. On the other hand though, while you appreciated Billy’s input and help, you wanted tonight to be about you and Frank, and this setting didn’t represent either of you.

Quickly shutting the menu, you placed it back down on your plate and stood up, which immediately grabbed Frank’s attention. His head snapped up, looking at you in a mixture of puzzlement and trepidation, and when you held your hand out to him, he stared at it like it was a foreign object.

“Come on.”

“Where we goin’?”

“Just come on.”

Following suit, Frank closed his menu and set it down on the plate, grabbing your hand and standing up from his chair. Lacing your fingers together, you lead him down the exact path you had taken from the host’s stand and exited back outside onto the street through the tall glass doors. After taking a few steps down the sidewalk, you paused and turned around to face Frank, dropping his hand to reach up and undo the knot of his tie, slipping the black material from around his neck and stuffing it into your purse. You unbuttoned the first three buttons of his dark navy shirt, giving you a glimpse of his tan skin beneath, and pushed the black blazer off his broad shoulders and down his large arms. Folding his blazer over your arm, you took a step back to take in your handiwork, and a tender smile caressed your lips.

This was the Frank you knew.

“Much better.”

Frank glanced down at himself before lifting his head to look back at you. There was a look in his eyes that you didn’t know how to read. His lips parted slightly, and then quickly shut. Turning his head to stare at the restaurant the two of you had just left, he was quiet for a moment before looking down at you again. This time, you could see a hint of uncertainty shining in his deep brown eyes under the illumination of the street light above.

“I’m sorry.”

Frank’s apology instantly perplexed you, and it was written all over your face.

“Sorry for what?”

He let out a deep sigh, looking over your head to watch people passing by on the street in opposite directions behind you. He lifted one of his large hands to nervously rub at the back of his neck before meeting your gaze again.

“I uh…don’t really know what I’m doin’, here. I’m a bit…outta practice.”

The honesty behind his confession made your heart constrict in your ribcage. You knew what he meant. Frank hadn’t dated since he lost his wife. He hadn’t been on a first date in decades. It suddenly occurred to you how big of a deal tonight was to Frank, and that made your features soften. Taking a step closer, you brought one of your hands up to gently place against his jaw, staring up at him with an understanding smile.

“It’s okay. So am I.”

The feeling of your soft hand on his skin made him physically relax almost instantaneously. His large hands came up to gently grab your waist, and he pulled you in flush against his chest, staring down into your eyes deeply.

“I just…wanted tonight to be special for ya.”

The juxtaposition of his gruff voice speaking so softly sent a tingle down your spine and only made you melt into his embrace even further. He was trying so hard, putting so much effort into trying to achieve what he thought was perfection, not realizing that the one thing you wanted tonight was the man standing in front of you.

“Frank, it’s already special. I’m with you. That’s all I wanted. I don’t need all of that. You could take me to get hot dogs at the stand on the street corner, and I’d be thrilled.”

Frank’s lips tugged into a wide grin as he chuckled, giving your waist a faint squeeze while shaking his head.

“I ain’t takin’ you for a goddamn hot dog on our first date.”

“Why not? I like hot dogs.”

“I ain’t ever even seen you eat a hot dog.”

Fighting your own grin, you tilted your head to the side and narrowed your eyes lightheartedly while gazing up at him.

“Aren’t you supposed to be trying to impress me? Not arguing with me?”

Frank’s dark brown eyes roamed over your figure in his hands, a smirk stretching across his lips at the sass in your voice.

“Thought that’s what I was doin’ til’ you dragged us outta that nice place.”

“I wasn’t paying thirty-seven dollars for one fucking glass of wine.”

“You wouldn’ta been payin’ anyway.”

Rolling your eyes, you gave his bicep a gentle squeeze while smirking up at him.

“Okay fine, I wasn’t going to let you pay thirty-seven dollars for one glass of wine. That’s like…three times what I spend on one bottle.”

“Didn’t realize you were so high maintenance.”

Burying your face into his chest, you couldn’t stop the laughter that made your shoulders shake slightly. Frank’s arms slipped around your waist, hugging you close to his chest, and you could hear his own laughter echoing deep within his chest and feel it rumbling against your own. Leaning back a little, you looked up at him with a teasing smirk and arched one of your brows.

“You know, I’m surprised Maria ever went out with you. You’re kind of the worst.”

Frank stared down at you with a soft smile and his large hand rubbed up and down your lower back gently.

“You and me both.”

Even though the two of you were standing on a crowded sidewalk in lower Manhattan with dozens of people passing by every second, while the two of you stared at one another, everything else faded away. It felt like you were in your own little bubble.

“Alright, if you’re gonna fight me on hot dogs, what’s the compromise between that and a menu I can’t read or pronounce?”

“I had a back up plan.”

»»———　　———««

Frank took you to a small little Italian restaurant for dinner. It was owned by a family who had immigrated to New York in the 1960s from Sicily and had been passed down through the hands of several generations. The red brick of the walls had faded into a dull shade of rust, the wooden table was worn and chipped from several decades of use and hot plates, and the wine tasted like it had come out of a five dollar box, but it was perfect.

Both of you were so much more relaxed and at ease in this cozy, intimate environment. The owner of the restaurant, a charismatic older man named Tony with a thick Italian accent, talked you into ordering the Rigatoni Amatriciana, and it was one of the best dishes you had ever tasted. He also never let your wine glass go completely empty. Once he found out you and Frank were on a date, every time Tony came over to your table, he’d look at you before glancing at Frank and nudge his shoulder with a grin, nodding in your direction and saying ‘lucky man’. It never failed to make you blush, or to make Frank beam with pride.

This was the most laid back you had ever seen Frank. The wine was flowing, and you were trading bites of each other’s dishes along with stories. He was in the middle of telling you how he met Maria at a park when you nearly spit out your wine as laughter abruptly erupted from your lips.

“Wait, she said what?”

Frank was laughing just as hard as you were, covering the top half of his face with his large hand, his broad shoulders moving up and down rapidly.

“Swear to God, she says, ‘Hey buddy, you know anythin’ else? Because we’re sick of hearin’ you butcher this one’.”

Covering your mouth with your hand, you were trying so hard to contain your laughter, but the image of a nineteen year old embarrassed Frank getting called out by his future wife for playing guitar so badly was causing your stomach to ache from your fit of giggles.

“Were you really that bad?”

“I wasn’t bad, I was just…strugglin’, ya know? I was tryin’ to learn a new song, ya know…singin’ it out loud like an asshole. I was-”

Frank paused for a moment, like he was replaying the memory in his head, and then a grin split across his lips as he shook his head and started laughing again.

“-I was butcherin’ the hell outta it.”

Hearing the resignation in his voice when he stopped defending himself only made you laugh even harder, watching as he brought his glass of wine to his smiling lips to take a large sip.

“Wow, she must have really liked you to still go out with you after that.”

Frank set his glass of wine down and gave a light nod of his head, staring down at his empty plate with a soft smile on his lips and a somewhat far away look in his eyes.

“Yeah. Yeah she uh…she saw somethin’, I guess. Somethin’ I couldn’t.”

Staring over at Frank quietly for a moment, you set your wine glass down before reaching across the table to place your hand over his, giving it a gentle squeeze. When he glanced up to meet your gaze, you looked at him with a warm smile on your lips.

“It doesn’t matter if you couldn’t see it. She saw it, and it was special. That’s all that matters.”

Frank regarded you silently for a minute, and then a tender smile of his own crossed his lips while he brought your hand up to place a soft kiss to the back of it.

“You’re somethin’ special, you know that?”

Warmth caressed the tops of your cheeks and spread throughout your lower belly. The sincerity in his voice, the way he was looking at you…it had those three words right on the tip of your tongue again. It was astounding how everything with Frank felt so…natural. He was the first person you didn’t have to pretend with or water yourself down for. He didn’t expect you to be anyone other than who you were. Tonight was the most relaxed and carefree you had ever felt on a date, or in any of your past relationships before. As badly as you wanted to shout those three words from the rooftops, you decided on another truth instead.

“You make me feel it.”

»»———　　———««

After indulging in the most delicious tiramisu you’d ever tasted in your life, you and Frank found yourselves in a small dive bar a few blocks down the street. It wasn’t too terribly packed for a Saturday night, and you two managed to snag an unoccupied pool table towards the back of the bar after ordering a round of drinks. Frank, being the gentleman he is, offered to teach you how to play, and even though you already knew how, you weren’t going to turn down the offer. It was far too enticing.

For about half an hour, you let him explain the game, felt him pressing up against you from behind while he “taught you” how to hold the pool cue and how to aim, his large rough hands manipulating yours on the cue to demonstrate proper placement. After he was finished with his little lesson, and with the liquid mischief of tequila flowing through your bloodstream, you decided to make things interesting.

“I bet the next round of drinks that I can sink that seven.”

Frank quickly paused when lifting his beer bottle to his lips, arching one of his thick brows while an expression of amusement painted his features as he looked at you.

“Yeah? One lesson and you’re an expert, huh?”

Without offering a verbal reply, you winked at him before leaning over the pool table and lining up your shot.

The deep maroon seven ball glided along the hunter green felt canvas that’s vibrancy had been muted by decades of ashen smoke, complemented by faint rings from one too many sweaty beer glasses and other questionable stains. It sank into the corner pocket with a loud clack, and Frank’s attention flickered between the corner pocket and your form leaned over the pool table, an expression of complete surprise flashing across his features.

Slowly rising up to your full height, you fought to contain the smirk that threatened to overtake your entire mouth, though a whisper of it could be detected at the corner of your ruby painted lips. Frank noticed it, he noticed everything, and it had him narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

“You hustlin’ me?”

Placing the bottom of the pool stick on the floor, your fingers lightly slid down the smooth maple wood, lightly wrapping around the midsection while you lightly shrugged your shoulders.

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

Frank stared at you from where he stood casually leaning against the edge of the table, one of his large hands resting on his hip along the leather of his belt, the other grasping his own pool stick with two of his fingers and his beer bottle with the rest. The dim light above the pool table cast a shadow over his sharp features that made his warm whiskey eyes appear more like deep pools of darkened espresso. His thick brows pinched, causing a crease in his forehead.

“You said you didn’t know how to play-”

“I never said that.”

The look of faux innocence on your features caused Frank’s eyes to darken, cocking his head to the side while staring at you in a way that was silently challenging you to prove his memory wrong. Keeping your eyes locked on his, you slowly began to round the expansive pool table, your lips stretching into a playful grin. Slipping between Frank’s large form and the table, you purposefully brushed your ass against the front of his jeans, eliciting a deep grunt from him in response.

“You said you could teach me.”

Leaning over the pool table, you arched your back a little more than necessary while lining your pool stick up with the cue ball, lifting your ass further up into Frank’s point of view. You didn’t need to glance over your shoulder to know that’s exactly where his hungry gaze was. You could feel it.

“Yeah, and you let me.”

There was just barely a trace of annoyance nestled in the gravel of his deep voice, and it made you grin.

“Did you think I was gonna pass up the opportunity to let you bend me over something?”

The dingy ivory cue ball was lined up perfectly with the smooth electric blue of the two, but just as you were about to take your shot, Frank’s large hand wrapped around your hip and squeezed tightly as he pressed himself against you from behind, and your hand slipped. The cue ball sailed only a few inches ahead in the opposite direction you planned for, and you tightened your grip around your pool stick.

Letting out a deep exhale through your nose, you turned your head to look up at Frank over your shoulder, only to find him staring back at you with a burning intensity that ignited a flame of pure desire in your lower belly.

“That wasn't fair.”

“And wigglin’ your ass in the air, bein’ a goddamn tease is?”

Before you could respond, Frank leaned forward, pressing his firm chest right up against your back, letting you feel the heat of his body against yours. The spiced woodsy scent of his cologne overwhelmed your senses far more than the concoction that wafted in the dense air of the dive bar, and you could almost taste the beer on his lips when he leaned in so close that his large nose bumped against your own.

“You wanna play dirty, sweetheart? We’ll play dirty.”

Frank suddenly stood up straight and let go of you to walk around towards the opposite end of the pool table. He grabbed the triangular rack and retrieved the balls from the outlet below before grabbing the others that were still scattered across the table, and he set up a brand new game with a look of pure focus and determination in his eyes.

You couldn’t help yourself from being even more of a tease. Frank just looked too damn good, and you had a great buzz going. He’d loosened another button to your delight, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows exposing his muscular forearms. Leaning your pool stick against the table, you sauntered over towards the high top table to your right where your purse was and slipped your hand inside, pulling Frank’s long forgotten tie out.

“If I win-”

Turning around to face Frank with a smirk, you noticed that he had paused his set up of the game and was now glancing between the tie in your hands and the look on your face in a mixture of intrigue and confusion.

“-I get to use this, on you.”

As soon as those words left your lips, Frank’s eyes instantly darkened. He stared at you in a way that made you want to abandon the game all together and drag him out to the alley to let him fuck you there, but you knew he wouldn’t budge. Frank didn’t back down from a challenge. He embraced it. His eyes flickered between the tie in your hands and your gaze, letting out a quiet grunt accompanied by a nod in response before removing the rack once the balls were set up in a perfect triangle.

Grabbing his beer bottle from the edge of the table, he motioned towards your pool cue with it before taking a large sip.

“Ladies first.”

Placing the tie back into your purse, confusion knit between your brows at Frank’s nonchalance. You stared at him from the opposite end of the table, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Aren’t you going to tell me what you get if you win?”

Frank focused his attention solely on you, and there was a predatory look in his eyes that made you nearly sink to your knees right then and there.

“Figured I’d show ya instead.”

»»———　　———««

It took Frank twenty minutes to kick your ass. Twenty. Minutes. Why you thought you could actually beat him, who really knows. Maybe it was the confidence granted from the glasses of wine at dinner and the two margaritas you’d already had. Maybe you underestimated how good of a pool player Frank was, which was stupid on your part considering it wasn’t far fetched to think that his base had a pool table and he probably perfected his game during his tours in the Marines. Maybe you just didn’t give a fuck if you won or not because either way, you got Frank. He didn’t tell you exactly what he wanted if he won, but the fact of the matter was you could see in his eyes just what it was that he wanted and you were more than eager to give it to him.

Frank kicked the door to the small dive bar bathroom shut with his boot, taking his hand off you only for a quick second to lock the door. His kisses were hungry and aggressive, and even a little possessive. His large hands slipped from your waist down to your hips and finally reached around to land on your ass, squeezing roughly through the thin material of your dress. The action made you moan into his mouth, and he tore his lips away from yours just to attach them to your neck, leaving a wet trail of open mouthed kisses before speaking into your ear in a low and rough voice that had your panties immediately soaked.

“Been wantin’ to rip this off you all goddamn night.”

“No one’s stopping you.”

Frank’s large hands found their way to your hips once again, and he tugged your dress upwards until the hem of it was at the top of your thighs. Gripping onto your waist, he quickly lifted you up and placed you on the edge of the sink, the cool ceramic of it a stark contrast to the heated skin on the backs of your thighs. Just as you were reaching for his belt, he suddenly let go of you and took a few steps back, his tongue darting out to swipe across his bottom lip. Seeing the look of confusion on your face and the impatient pout on your lips, he stared at you with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“Put your hands together.”

Blinking a few times, you continued to stare at him in perplexity. A crease formed between your brows at his words.

“What?”

Frank didn’t tear his ravenous eyes away from you. They trailed over your figure, drinking in the sight of your dress bunched up to your hips, your thighs spread apart as you sat on the edge of the sink with your legs dangling below, a delectable view of your soaked panties. He took in the way your breasts rose and fell quickly from how hard you were breathing already, the heat that flushed in your cheeks, and the look in your eyes that gave away just how badly you wanted him.

Bringing his large hands to his belt, he slowly and teasingly started to unbuckle it. Despite the fact that you two were in a public space and anyone could come banging on the door at any minute, he was taking his time, making a show of pulling the worn leather from the metal buckle.

“Your hands. Put ‘em together. I got a prize to claim.”

You were so mesmerized and aroused by the sight of Frank unbuckling his belt, you almost missed what he said. Lifting your gaze up to look at him, you seemed to get an idea of what he had planned for you, and it sent a thrill of excitement throughout your entire body. Without another moment of hesitation, you quickly pressed your hands together which earned a pleased smirk from Frank. He cocked his head to the side, slipping his belt from the loops of his jeans while taking a step towards you.

“Would ya look at that. You can do what you’re told. This what I gotta do to get you to listen, baby?”

An intense wave of heat pooled between your thighs at the way he was teasing you. His voice was so coarse and rough, but the way he spoke to you was smooth like honey. Biting down on your bottom lip, you gave a faint shake of your head.

“I’m listening cause I want it too.”

Frank was standing directly in front of you now between your spread thighs, and a grin stretched over his soft lips as he kept his head cocked to the side, staring into your eyes in pure hunger and amusement.

“That right?”

All you could manage was a soft hum in the back of your throat in response. When he started to wrap his belt around your wrists, your gaze quickly dropped to watch. The loud music playing outside was nothing compared to how loudly your heart was pounding in your ears. Frank carefully but expertly bound your wrists together, giving the leather a gentle tug to test his own work. Grasping your chin between his thumb and index finger, he lifted your head to capture your eyes.

“This alright?”

Nodding your head eagerly, Frank let out a soft chuckle. He lightly brushed his thumb along your bottom lip, leaning in to nuzzle his large nose against yours.

“C’mon now. That pretty head full of all them big words and you ain’t got none for me right now?”

“Hurry up.”

Frank let out a deep bellow of laughter at your impatient and rushed response, crinkles of delight fanning around his eye sockets.

“There’s my girl.”

Grabbing your elbows, Frank lifted your arms above your head, hooking your bound wrists on a piece of the light fixture above the mirror, leaving you completely at his mercy. He didn’t waste any time unzipping his pants to free his fully erect cock, attaching his lips to your neck once again while he pulled your panties to the side and pushed his hips forward. Immediately your head fell back against the mirror behind you the second that Frank’s thick cock nestled deeply within your snug walls and a loud grunt from him was followed by a desperate moan from you.

Time was not a luxury you had right now, and as much as Frank wanted to lose himself in you, he had to keep in mind where you were. Wrapping one of his strong arms around your waist, he pulled you closer to the edge of the sink, and while you wrapped your legs tightly around his lower back, he began to snap his hips swiftly. The glass was cold against the exposed skin of your back, and Frank was fucking you so hard, you thought it was gonna shatter from impact.

“Frank-”

He quickly placed his large hand over your mouth and whispered deeply into your ear.

“Shh shh shh, need ya to be quiet for me, baby.”

The sounds of your sharp moans and cries of pleasure were muffled by Frank’s large hand that was clamped over your mouth to keep you quiet. He buried his face into your neck, licking and sucking at your sensitive flesh, biting down gently to keep himself from moaning out. Every low grunt and groan Frank dripped into your ear was pushing you closer and closer to that edge that you wanted to free fall from. He was being rougher with you than he ever had, and it made your head spin.

Tugging at his belt around your wrists, you let out a muffled whine against his palm. You wanted to touch him, but you were also enjoying this side of Frank too much to really care. Long gone was the gentleman who had picked you up at your door just hours ago with flowers in hand. Frank was fucking you hard and rough, and it was quick and messy, but it was exhilarating. Every time you were with Frank, it was like a brand new experience. He made you feel things you had never felt before, and gave you things you didn’t even know you were craving.

You could tell he was close when his pace started to falter. He began to fuck you relentlessly, and your legs tightened around his lower back. Your arms were starting to ache from being suspended above your head, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to really fucking care. You were far too turned on and dangerously close to coming. Slipping his hand down from your mouth to wrap around your throat instead, he pressed his forehead against yours and spoke lowly while staring deeply into your eyes.

“You gonna come for me, sweetheart?”

You couldn’t hardly speak. The way Frank was fucking you, his hand around your throat, your wrists bound above your head with his belt, the fact that you were in the bathroom of a dive bar; it all rendered you in incoherent mess. All you could do was nod weakly while letting out an obscene moan, staring at him with wide eyes in complete desperation.

“Attagirl.”

That was all it took for a warm blanket of bliss to envelop you completely and stars to explode behind your eyelids. Frank poured sweet nothings into your ear while your hips uncontrollably bucked against him, and he continued to fuck you deeply through your orgasm. He dropped his hand from your throat and wrapped his other arm around your waist, hugging you tightly to his chest when his hips started to stutter.

The sound of Frank calling out your name when he reached his own peak was something you would never get tired of. It sent chills throughout your entire body, and it only made it that much harder to not speak those three words that tried to claw their way out of your ribcage.

Frank gently brought your arms down and removed his belt from your wrist, slipping it back through the loops of his jeans before buckling it and zipping up his fly. Wetting a napkin, he carefully cleaned you up, pressing soft kisses along your jawline in the process. A hazy grin stretched across your lips as you slowly slid your hands up Frank’s biceps to wrap around his neck.

“We should make bets more often.”

He let out a deep chuckle as he grabbed your waist and gently lifted you up from the sink, setting you back down on unsteady legs. He helped you fix your dress before grasping your chin between his thumb and index finger, smirking at you.

“You ain’t gotta make a bet for that. All you gotta do is ask.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @avengerstower-houseplant @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary @cherry-berry-ollie @sorrowfulfragmentation @kdogreads @sumo-b98 @blackhawkfanatic @gloryekaterina @whistle1whistle @starbritestarlite @callmebrooklynbabes @hallway5 @scarletfvckingwitch @bifuriouslatina @soupyspence @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @wonwoosthetic @linguist-breakaribecca @nerdytreeflower @mrs-bellingham @smhnxdiii @s3riou2 @slavic-empress

#frank castle #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #frank castle smut #frank castle series #the bodyguard series #bodyguard!frank castle fic #bodyguard!frank castle series #bodyguard!frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher fic #the punisher smut #the punisher series

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affixjoy · 2 months

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I’m adding “You’ve been most patient with my kinds of madness” to my list of the most romantic lines ever uttered.

Like !????!! So soft?? So wholesome?? So beautiful? Going right up there with “Let me help” on my little mental bulletin board of Spirk.

#amok time #star trek #spock #star trek tos #james t kirk #spirk #if they didn’t want us to think they were in love they simply could have written a different relationship #because as it stands they’re just….so in love

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morallyinept · 4 months

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NOBODY WANTS TO BE ALONE ON CHRISTMAS - A Javier Peña Christmas One Shot

Summary: You discover your boss Javi will be spending the night alone, working on the cartel case on Christmas Eve, so you extend a kind offer for him to join you for some Christmas dinner.

Pairing: Javier Pena x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub.)

Word Count: 6.1k

Scoville Smut Rating: 🌶️🌶️🌶️ "You tell me I'm doing well, and then, you try to kill me."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/triggers - Unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks)/oral M receiving/fingering.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

If this story isn't for you, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: There's some sexy Javi Spanish, not a lot, so I've not provided translations. Feliz Navidad!

12 DAYS OF XXX-MAS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Enjoy & Happy Holidays! 🎄🖤

The yellowing fluorescent lights overhead cast a slightly harsh glow on the worn-out carpet that covers the office floor.

The colour, once a muted gray, bears the marks of countless footsteps and the occasional coffee spill.

The desks, a mishmash of transient styles, are strewn with stacks of files, half-empty coffee mugs, and a scattering of outdated office supplies, like typewriter ribbons and correctional fluid.

The air carries the distinct scent of freshly brewed Colombian coffee, a constant companion in the war rooms of the DEA office. Agents huddle around a communal pot, exchanging quick greetings and nods as they fuel up for the next round of investigations.

The walls are plastered with maps and charts tracking drug routes and cartel activities. Bulletin boards are covered with Polaroid pictures of suspects, illustrating the intricate web of criminal connections in Cali.

The faint hum of dial-up internet connections emanate from the few computers scattered around the office. The whirr of dot matrix printers echo intermittently, producing reports that will become integral parts of the ongoing investigations.

The agents, clad in power suits and shoulder-padded blazers work with a sense of determination etched on their faces. The sounds of phones ringing and typewriters clacking provide a constant background symphony, underscoring the urgency of their mission.

The office's ambiance is further accentuated by the occasional chatter in both English and Spanish, a linguistic blend reflective of the team's diverse composition.

Agents move purposefully between desks, exchanging information in hushed tones. The dated computer terminals emit a soft hum as agents navigate through databases filled with information on known traffickers and cartel activities.

In the midst of this utilitarian environment stands a small potted Christmas tree, perched on the edge of the desk of Javier Peña.

Placed there as a tiresome joke, created by the junior agents during a rare lighthearted moment he suspects, adding a touch of personal flair to the otherwise stern atmosphere.

He’s pushed it off his desk twice now and it keeps reappearing, a constant reminder of his own inward dismay for this time of year.

You glance at him over the top of your screen, hard not to on the regular, seeing as your desk is placed directly opposite his, your back to the window. Not a strategic decision but one you're thankful for when his dark cocoa bean eyes meet yours.

As Javier focuses on decoding messages or delving into the intricacies of ongoing investigations at his computer, that he types really slow on, tapping laboriously on the keys, his eyes will inevitably wander to the window.

There, amidst the rain-streaked glass and the rhythmic dance of palm leaves, he’ll always find you diligently working at your desk. Your concentration, juxtaposed against the vibrant outdoor scenery, often draws his attention.

In those fleeting moments, as your eyes lock across the narrow expanse of the office, the intensity of your work seems to momentarily fade away, replaced by an unspoken connection that hints at something beyond the professional facade.

It isn't just the shared pursuit of justice that binds you to Javier; it’s the exchange of glances, the uncharted territory of emotions that simmer beneath the surface.

At least on your part anyway.

Harbouring an attraction to your boss isn’t a wise move. A move that you’ve sat on relentlessly, trying to squash it into the soft foam of your office chair ever since you were transferred from the archives to real administration work in a real investigations office.

Javier is indifferent to you, looks upon with you a less-than-impressed, resting bitch face, but you’ve soon learned it’s the way his features have been moulded after years of chasing down hardened criminals in the dangerous territories this country harbours.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile.

But he always holds your gaze, far longer than you suspect he should. Just lingering looks that neither of you spiral into a verbal acknowledgement.

You bring him coffee with his reports on occasion, always making one for him when you get one for yourself; another unspoken routine you’ve found yourselves waltzing in. You know he needs at least three cups in the morning to function before the computer is even switched on.

You feel the gravitational pull of these unspoken moments. As you diligently work on your assignments, your eyes instinctively drift towards Javier's desk; a magnetised shift as you meet his eyes lancing back at you and you allow yourself to believe it could be a look of want, of some coveted desire he has for you as you squeeze your thighs together during the heated exchanges.

But of course, that’s wishful thinking.

You know that your crush is a pointless endeavour with no viable outcome. Javier Peña’s reputation precedes him. You’ve heard whispers from the team about the hookers in downtown Bogotá, even if they leave a heavy weight of disappointment and longing in your stomach.

Plus, there is that mantra of not shitting where you eat.

As the agents prepare for the holidays, Christmas Eve being where you find yourself, tapping away on your keyboard at a productive speed of seventy WPM, compared to Javier’s eight WPM - you know, you’ve counted - the potted Christmas tree standing lackadaisical on his desk serves not only as a festive ornament, but also as a reminder that even in the heart of a demanding and dangerous mission, camaraderie and the spirit of the season can find a place, however small, in the DEA office in Colombia.

Plans are exchanged and shared as your colleagues speak of them later on when they’ll clock off.

"I'm taking the kids to see the Christmas lights downtown. They've been pestering me about it for weeks." One says.

Another chimes in, "I'm heading to my parents' house for a big family gathering. It's chaotic, but I love it."

As the discussions continue like billowy rain clouds drifting around, Javier remains at his desk, seemingly engrossed in his work and you notice his obvious disengagement from the holiday chatter ebbing around him.

One of them dares to direct a comment towards him. “Plans, boss?”

Javier shakes his head and you’re certain you can hear a grunt. “Work. Something you clearly don’t understand the concept of, Ramirez.”

It’s enough to bring the team to an awkward hush as they settle back behind their screens murmuring to themselves indistinctly.

And the thought gnaws at you throughout the remainder of the day. The thought of Javier spending Christmas eve in the office alone, powering through, as the light from outside dims and he works by eventual lamplight on his desk.

You’ve seen it before, coming in the following morning to see him blinking tiredly into the stacks of paperwork that often drown him on his desk out of your view completely.

He’s known for practically living in the office like a hermit when he’s not out in the tacvest taking on the cartel's head first, or seeking solace in some hooker's cleavage, if you’re to believe those rumours that buzz around like flies over a festering pile of shit.

And that gnawing thought starts to bite harder in the late afternoon.

Hard enough for you to try and soothe the shredded skin around your nails having bitten at them for most of the day, as you find yourself hovering over his desk a little longer after gathering completed files for you to alphabetise.

He doesn’t look up at you, even though your shadow is still in his peripherals. The scent of him this close is intoxicating. Tobacco and a faint note of whiskey from the bottle you know he keeps in his drawer.

A swilling musk of sweat; the climate at this time of year is tropical and it ruminates inside the ill fitting jacket of his beige suit. A slight glean of it runs tracks down his throat and you lick your lips, trying not to focus on it too much as he swallows.

“Señor Peña-”

“Javi.” He corrects bluntly.

“-I couldn’t help but overhear you don’t have any plans for Christmas.” You begin, tactfully, keeping your voice low.

Javi finally glances up, a stoic expression on his face, "I'll be working. The case needs my attention."

“Surely it can wait for one evening?” You sway. “I’m sure the cartels will be celebrating and making merry. You should have a break, sir. It’s Christmas.”

“Just another day,” he swallows grittily.

The atmosphere in the office seems to thicken with a sudden tension. Javier, known for his abrupt stoicism, can't hide the defensive edge in his voice.

You sigh and gather the files in your arms. “You’re welcome at my place, if you want. A bit of dinner?”

"Christmas dinner? Mierda.” He scoffs. “You trying to play the good samaritan or something?" Javier says, his tone edging with a hint of spite.

His eyes, usually stern, carry an unusual flicker of irritation as they darken. “Did I miss the memo that we're suddenly one big, happy family in this office?”

You clock your colleagues, now silent and peering over their screens at the spectacle.

Javier, leaning back in his chair, retorts, "save the Hallmark moments. I'm perfectly capable of spending Christmas alone. I don't need company, especially not from someone who doesn't know when to mind their own business."

Your expression holds a mix of hurt and determination. "This isn't about charity, Señor Peña-”

“Javi.” He corrects again with gritted teeth.

“-We're a team, aren't we?"

Maintaining his composure, he brushes off the suggestion.

"Team or not, I don't need or want your pity, cariño. I've got work to do. And so do you." He stares up at you with a silent fury venting from his dark eyes.

You bite down on the inside of your cheek.

“It’s not pity.” You correct, stepping away; cheeks burning up with some humiliation brewing.

He watches you leave towards the file room, and tosses a glare at the others who immediately begin tapping and working again.

Growling inwardly, he shoves the potted Christmas tree off his desk again and hears it topple to the floor.

The empty office seems to echo with the ghosts of the day's activities, the remnants of conversations and shared jovial laughter hanging in the air to taunt him long after you’re all gone.

Javi is sitting alone, the harsh glow of his desk lamp casting shadows across his caramel skin and making his eyeballs ache.

His long fingers trace the edge of the whiskey glass, each sip a bitter reminder of the solitude he’s chosen. The rain outside, a constant drizzle against the windowpane, mirrors the melancholy that settles within his chest.

His thoughts drift towards you, your invitation lingering like an unanswered question in the quiet room.

The disappointment and hurt swelling in the moisture of your eyes as he fired venom and hostility at your attempt at festive kindness. He knows it wasn't pity you offered, not really.

It’s in the coffee you always have made for him in the mornings that's just the right amount of rich and sweet, despite being from a cheap packet.

Your good nature, although grating at times, is what he secretly finds admirable about you - you care.

It's the care in your work, the attention to detail. The care in your questioning of your colleagues’ weekends and how you listen, hanging on their every word with bright curious eyes.

As he sips the whiskey, the amber liquid burns with a bitterness that seems to match the regret pooling in his chest. The files on his desk, once symbols of purpose, now feel like burdens, heavy with the weight of his own inane stubbornness.

He can't shake the feeling that he's missed out on something important here, a chance for a connection that has slipped through his fingers.

The loneliness presses in on him, and for the first time, Javi questions the walls he has built around himself. The whiskey, usually a numbing agent, now accentuates the ache of regret. He finds himself replaying the words he’d spoken to you, realising the rooted cruelty of his own defences.

The night unfolds slowly, the hands of the clock ticking away the minutes as Javi works through unrelenting paperwork.

In the quiet solitude, his thoughts mutate into a tempest of introspection. Your words batter his skull, your face.

He glances up at your desk and you’re not there, looking back at him and feeling his chest and loins alike filling with a tightness that aches.

The rhythmic tap of raindrops against the window becomes a thundering metronome. Filling his mind with flashes of your naked body pressed against his, the sound of your pleads and gasps filling him up as he fills you with himself.

Growls at the ache hardening between his legs, growling at his own stupidity, feeling a lifeline he's let slip away.

He glances around the empty office, the shadows dancing along the walls like phantoms of missed chances, beacons of potential connection.

His silhouette and yours, fucking in every position known to him, and Javi growls.

The weight of his own words linger in the air, each one a sharp reminder of the distance he’s purposefully placed between himself and his colleagues, and he’s not sure why.

He bends and picks it up and sees there's a label stabbed into the back of it, one he never noticed before.

The whiskey, now a bitter residue in his glass, mirrors the lingering taste of remorse and as he gets up to attend to a task, he trips on something.

The potted tree that he tossed so carelessly off of his desk.

Unfurling it, he realises it's a gift and not a practical joke played by his colleagues who have nothing better to do than mock his authority and professionalism behind his back.

Feliz Navidad, Señor Peña x

Placing the tree back on his desk, he lingers on the guilt.

The hum of the lonely printer and the distant patter of rain becomes a backdrop to his internal dialogue. What if, he wonders, he has misunderstood your invitation? What if it isn't about pity, but a genuine desire for his companionship?

The barriers he’s erected around himself feel suddenly fragile; the stoicism that has defined him now seems like a self-imposed prison.

Has he really been so blind of your affections towards him?

In that moment, a decision crystallises in Javi's mind. He can't spend Christmas alone in the sterile glow of the fluorescent lamplight, drowning in whiskey and the silence of his regrets.

His fingers drum on the desk, a silent debate waging within him. As he grabs his creased jacket from hours of sitting on it, the decision solidifies with every step.

The office, with its empty corridors and the ghosts of his own stubbornness, seem to release him with a reluctant sigh. He can’t stay here tonight.

Not when he knows now that you want him.

“Javi… I mean, Señor Peña.”

You stand on the other side of the door. The intrepid concern for a late night knocker in a city like this, melts away into something else as you peer at him on the other side.

“Buenas noches, cariño.”

He’s wet, soaked through almost. His hair sticking to his forehead like an oil slick, and droplets caught in the prominent pencil moustache that you’ve always wondered if it would be soft or coarse against your skin.

“Javi, please.” He softens.

“What are you doing here? I wasn't expecting you to...” You’re a little stunned actually. The gall and unpredictability of this man never ceases to amaze.

He holds out a bottle that he plucks from a brown bag, tequila.

“Call it a peace offering, or a Christmas gift. Either way, I'm sorry for snapping.” Javi says, and you can feel the sincerity and regret radiate from him, burning hotter than the sun.

“It’s okay.” You say, with a blooming smile at the corners of your lips.

He questions it. Relief? Are you as genuinely pleased to see him as you appear? And it stunts him, your instant forgiveness.

He nods slowly. “If it’s alright with you, querida, I’d like to take you up on your offer if it still stands?"

He extends the olive branch and you’re only too quick and eager to receive it.

“Sure. Come on in, Javi.” You smile with pertinent relief.

You fix him a plate, reheating leftovers, as he perches on the edge of your lumpy sofa, feeling that it could swallow him down into its gullet at any moment if he truly relaxes.

It’s a rental, probably more than you can afford, bland with peeling paint and a musty aroma that lingers under the scent of your floral perfume that pollutes his head daily at work.

He shuffles out of his wet jacket, large wet patches dye the beige of his pants darker at the thighs and knees. He takes in the frailty of your apartment. The emptiness of it.

How nothing here reflects the sparkling personality he knows you have.

The air carries a faint scent of scented candles, the flickering flames casting a soft ambiance as his eyes find them gloaming on the coffee table in clusters. The muted colours of the furniture and the strategically placed potted plants create a serene atmosphere, a stark departure from the chaos of the office.

The harsh absence of the expected holiday decorations strike him. There are no garlands draped along the walls, no twinkling lights casting a festive glow. A vast, empty space threatens the room where a Christmas tree should stand.

Instead, the void exudes a calm simplicity that feels like a deliberate choice rather than an oversight on your part.

Noticing his surprise, you offer a small smile. "Not what you were expecting, huh?”

Javi, still processing the unexpected interior, manages a nod. The realisation that your invitation wasn't an attempt to impress, but a genuine extension of your simple world, settles within him.

The apartment, with its quiet and dated elegance, feels like a reflection of your character - strong, resilient, and unassuming.

"I didn't expect this," he admits, gesturing around the room. "I thought there would be... I don't know, more Christmas shit."

You hum with a smile as you pass him a plate.

Javi tentatively asks, "so, why did you invite me here, if it wasn’t pity?"

Your eyes hold a glint of sincerity. "Because I sensed you needed it. Christmas alone in the office isn't how anyone should spend the holidays. You work too much."

He takes the plate gratefully. Then he watches as you slice into limes with a blunt knife and toss the segments into a chipped bowl.

Javi, caught off guard by the sincerity in your words, feels a pang of gratitude. The walls he had so meticulously built around himself were showing cracks, and your presence seems to widen those fractures, as you seat yourself beside him on the sofa bringing glasses and salt for the tequila.

You lean back, studying him as he replaces his picked at plate for the bottle, twisting off the cap.

“So, you really are a good samaritan?”

"No, I just don’t think we realise what we need until someone offers it, I guess.” You shrug.

“Is that so?” He asks, pouring out shots into the glasses.

“It's okay to accept help, Javi."

“Do you think I need rescuing?”

“You don’t want to know what I think.” You say.

“Humour me.” He tempts as he hands you a glass. You pick up the salt shaker sprinkling some on the base of your thumb.

“Well, you’re an asshole.”

Javi chokes immediately on his tequila, spluttering it over the rim of the glass as you grin.

Then he nods, wiping at his long since loosened tie. “I am.”

“And you’re grumpy and you’re mean.”

“Never proclaimed to be Christ.” He smirks.

“Is it true what they say about you?” You question, carefully.

“What do they say about me?” Javi asks with raised eyebrows.

“That you… you know, spend a lot of time in Bogotá with the uh…”

“Hookers. You can say it.” He scoffs.

“Yeah.” You say swallowing back the tequila hard.

“Sometimes a man has his vices.” He simply says, pouring out another. He catches your face, bitter from the lime you suck. Or maybe something else.

“What about you, no boyfriend?” He asks.

You shake your head. “No.” He watches as you frown and try to mask it.

“Thank you… for the tree.” He says after a few minutes of awkward silence have descended upon you both. “I didn’t realise it was from you.”

“It’s nothing.” you shrug.

“We both know that’s not true.”

You smile, looking away. “Doesn’t matter.”

He turns your face back to him with a simple finger and thumb on your chin gently, dropping it when your eyes meet his again. You watch his eyes watch as you gnaw on your lip.

“Do you really think I’m an asshole?” He questions.

“Why do you care what I think, Javi?”

“Because I’d hate for you to think that about me.”

“Sometimes…" You admit. "But I just mostly think... that you’re sexy.”

His eyebrows raise. “Por que?”

“I mean-” You fluster. Shit. “Too much tequila,” you say quickly, feeling the heat abruptly flood into your face.

“You think I’m sexy, cariño?”

You reach for more tequila, but his hand, gently curling around your wrist, stops you.

“No.” You say, and he knows you're bluffing.

It’s out there now, that spoken want and desire growing limbs and becoming a solid form before you.

“That’s not what you said.” Javi, taken slightly aback by the depth of your admission, meets your twinkly gaze with a mix of curiosity and simmering.

“I should go,” he says, edging closer to you.

You bite down on your lip again, your eyes falling to his lips, pink and shiny as he runs his tongue on the bottom one.

A subtle drumming fills the silence between you until you realise it’s your heart beating frantically in your chest.

The air between Javi and you now crackles with a newfound tension, static that clings to your skin and makes all the hairs on your body stand tall.

“Stay.” You whisper, turning your body in and knocking against his knees with yours.

His hand around your wrist travels onto your thigh, moving up to your hip.

“If I stay, I’m going to fuck you, cariño. All night.” He husks, as your face draws near.

You can smell the honeyed agave on his breath. Feel it warm your eyelashes. He's so close.

“Stay, Javi.” Your hands climb the lapels of his damp shirt, twisting.

“Is that what you want?” He questions, dangerously close now.

You can feel both his hands circling your hips, kneading and squeezing gently, but firm. His forehead touching yours, lips so close to take in your teeth.

“I don’t want to be alone on Christmas. And neither do you.” You confirm.

The sharp citrus of the lime stings against your lips as he presses his mouth to yours, swallowing your gasps.

You taste his tongue; a faint descry of smoke and distilled amber dances over your own. Javi’s large hands caress your back, pulling you closer, cradling you in his arms as your kiss becomes deeper, more desperate.

You explore the uncharted territory of him; exhilarated and emboldened by his mutual want of you. Gasps pelt into your mouth as you finger through his hair feeling the silk of it, nails scrape down his spine over the damp material of his shirt.

His hands do all the talking too as he strokes them over your body, feeling the hilts and curves. He winds up your stomach and gropes gently at your breast, pushing upwards so it spills over your cami.

He glances at you, watching him as he flicks his tongue across your nipple, and sucks it into his mouth. He frees the other one and alternates between running his tongue and mouth across them.

“Eres tan hermosa.” Javi mists over your skin. And it pulls the breath from you to know that he thinks you're beautiful.

This man that you’ve coveted for so long, in the secret, sordid confines of your imagination and your sheets as you fuck yourself with your fingers to orgasm, is running his lips over your nipples and sucking them into his mouth as though he can’t get enough of you.

You can only choke out a gasp at how good it feels, how absurd it still is that he’s actually here.

Javi tilts your head back, fingers wrapping gently around your jaw so he can kiss your throat. You feel the graze of his teeth as he pulls on the skin, marking you as your hands fumble with the buttons on his shirt.

Revealing caramel, tan skin, you trail kisses down his throat, tasting the sweat that lingers in with the indolence of his cologne, notes of spice barely hanging on as you wash them away with your tongue. His skin is warm, smooth as you kiss down his chest as he leans back into the sofa.

You feel his fingers fighting with his belt under the tendrils of your hair. You take over, unzipping his pants and pulling them down his svelte waist as you glance up at him; your mouth dangerously close to his cock, freed and swollen.

You’re surprised at his size, hidden and tucked away in those tight pants on the daily and unsure how you’ve never noticed this enormity before. It’s not like you haven’t looked at his crotch when he stands from his desk, it's in your direct line of sight.

You can smell it, smell that salted crystal of precum glistening at you as it bubbles on his head, soaking his pink engorged skin, and you brave yourself to lick it. To finally taste him.

He shudders, you know you want to take your time worshipping him, suckling gently around his swollen head as his hands coil inside your roots.

Savouring the taste for yourself, only ever being able to imagine what he would feel like inside your mouth. Alternating between sucks and licks, you tease the length of him, taking him deeper each time.

“Fuck,” Javi hisses as he watches your lips suction around him.

You let your lips slide up and down the thick girth of him, smooth and warm, listening as he hisses between his teeth, his fingers stroking at your face.

You jerk him as you go, hand sliding up and down and pulling the wet tracks from your mouth down his hard cock, as he glides effortlessly into your fist.

You keep licking the head until you take him inside again, cheeks hollowed out as you suck harder.

“So fucking good,” he grits at you, a visible strain in his throat.

You relax your throat, opening wider, taking him in deeper and he audibly groans.

Your eyes flick to his and his pupils have bled into the chocolatey irises; a dark hungry stare tossed back at you that makes your clit pull tight in response.

You hum in satisfaction around him, listening to him enjoying your mouth.

He reaches forward, “ven aquí,” pulling you to him and twisting so you’re on the couch.

He kisses over your skin as he reveals it, pulling off your clothes until you’re naked in his arms.

His hands leave a desolate carnage of tingles as he traverses your body, fingers trailing delicately across your navel as he sucks on your lip, nipping gently between his teeth. You feel him, digits slipping further to the swollen, wet bud of your clit.

You gasp into his mouth as he circles on it, slick movements as your inner thighs jerk and twitch. You clasp onto his shoulders, kissing him deeply as he runs his fingers through your folds, teasing your hole before he pushes two of them inside.

“Javi,” you groan.

“That feel good, cariño?”

You nod. “So good.”

“So tight,” he groans as he slips his tongue in your mouth, the soft bristles of his moustache tickling deliciously against your lip. “Lay back for me.”

Withdrawing his fingers after a few teasing pumps, you lay back, Javi kneeling between your thighs and stroking himself. Spitting into his palm and coating himself with it as he watches your fingers rub quick, little circles around your clit.

His other hand strokes up your thigh and reaches for your breast; palming it and feeling your nipple pebble under the rough skin of his palm - rough and calloused from the constant handling of his Beretta as of late.

He kneels up slightly, running the tip of his cock inside your folds, greasing himself up with your slick. Tapping gently against your clit and you gasp as he squelches around you.

“So wet for me, are you always this wet?” He utters in praised disbelief.

You smirk, nodding. “For you I am.”

“Fuck,” he smirks back.

“You don’t want to know what you do to me…” You whisper.

“I want to know,” he says with deep hypnotic eyes. “I want to know everything. Dime que hago por ti, querida.”

Leaving forward over you, his hand splayed on the cushion above your head, Javi lines up, the thick head of him notching gently at your entrance.

"Tell me what you think about when you look at me over your desk," He urges.

Javi feels you flutter against him already, the desperation to suck him in as he bites down on his lip watching you. Watching your eyes flit from the centre of your legs, to his eyes.

“This," you breathe. "Want you, Javi,” you moan to him, trying to push yourself against him.

You move as he slips in, letting go of his cock and laying over you as his hips shunt forward in a smooth thrust, filling you full of him.

“Oh!” You gasp.

Your lips tear at his; your arms creeping around the back of his neck as he winds into you, grunting in your ear.

“Oh my God, Javi…”

The crest of his hips rattle against you, pushing you closer together as you wrap your legs around him, heels digging into his pert ass.

He moves with intention, every thrust well thought out to feel every inch of you, to make you feel every inch of him.

“You feel so good, so wet around my cock…” He grunts into you.

You can hear it, hear every lewd, wet squelch as he thrusts in and out. Louder than your mutual breathing and gasps.

He pushes your left leg up against the sofa and leans forward, closer into you as his hips continue to piston in.

His breath is heavier, ragged in the back of his throat as it scrapes across his tongue and out into your face.

He kisses you like he’s in love with you; gentle clicks of his lips against yours. Sucking gently around your tongue as he puffs through his nose.

He runs his chin up the side of your face, nuzzling. The moustache feels soft and silken; finally answering all your probing questions about it.

He hooks your legs against his shoulders and stays close to your face, his hips doing all the work now. Hitting that spot deep inside you as he fucks that bit harder, that bit more intense.

You can feel the flames licking at your skin, the heat suffocating the room. The tightness in your belly, the way your limbs begin to contort with the pressure.

“Oh, oh,” you whine. You can feel it brewing, feeling it rushing through your veins.

He presses his forehead to yours in an effort to ground you, pull you back to him, but it does the opposite, it makes you soar. Your gasps become throated grunts as it builds.

“Let it out,” Javi coaxes. “Let go, cariño. You feel so good around me like this. That’s it, come for me.”

He glances down, watching his cock disappear inside your swollen lips, and coming back out slick and shinier with each thrust. He pushes down on your thighs, your knees against your shoulders folding you up as he ploughs harder.

Each breath in the back of his throat punching out as though he’s running a marathon.

“Oh my God, yes… Javi!”

“Come for me,” he pleads again, moaning around each syllable in a soft tincture that punctures your lungs.

He can feel it when you contract, that moment you flood around him. He watches as you writhe and shudder, your voice losing it’s alto as you sigh and pant, losing yourself blind to your orgasm.

“Oh fuck… fuck yes!" He groans as he can feel you shaking on his cock.

“Hold on to me,” he says, pushing your hands to his neck where you wrap them around him.

He kneels, hooking his hands under your thighs to pull you upright onto him, and closer, and you feel him hit deeper as you cry out.

Javi slows his pace, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip for a second as he completely loses himself. Pussy drunk on you, buried so deep inside that he forgets where he is for a moment.

The sofa creaks in pain with his tempo, both his hands on your ass winding you back and forth over his cock.

The sweat shines at the bottom of your back; the room feels like a furnace, despite the rain outside cooling the night's air that seeps in from the open window.

“You’re gonna make me fucking come so hard…” He’s growling now, you can hear it. Those husked grunts ribbing at the back of his throat, lips curled up over his teeth as he plunders deeper into your cunt.

You move, flexing your hips back and forth as you fuck him slowly, and he groans coming back to you. His hands slip back down onto your hips as he moves you, faster, harder on his cock.

“Come inside me, Javi.”

“Oh fuck, mierda… Fuck!” It’s sweetly blasphemous as he comes, grunting and whimpering, his own body shaking and shuddering against yours. Sweat glueing you to one another.

He groans out as he comes, filling you with his thick spend as your tongue knots in his mouth.

“Querida,” he moans, as you peck gently over his face, his arms unrelenting, refusing to let go of you.

He lays back, taking you with him into the breach of the sofa. And you smile at his face regarding you back; big browns that are just mesmerised in some post-coital bliss by all those little nuances, up close and in his face.

You become mesmerised too, by the way his tongue glides over his teeth, usually to show mirth or derision in the office, but here it commands desire. Want.

How when he smiles, the left side of his top lip is the first to crook up into that beam that drags his cheeks up to reveal dimples either side of his face, marred usually by his moustache.

It takes you a moment to realise he’s smiling. Javier Peña is smiling for you, and it stuns you, tracing your fingers around the edges of it like a fine piece of art, the beauty of it etched forever in your memory.

“Que?” He asks, observing your awe.

“I’ve never seen you smile before.” You say, shaking your head. “You should do it more often.”

You think you spy a blush creep into the bronze sculpting of his cheeks. Small capillaries flooding with blood.

He slips out of you, but you feel his fingers reaching between your lips probing and slipping around gently in the silken feel of him starting to drip out of you.

He runs his nose across your face, nuzzling into you further. You feel him, sticky and softening under you, and you stroke through his hair, matted with sweat and smiling as he pecks at you still.

He kisses you, tonguing around your mouth as you feel his fingers sliding inside you, pushing his come back in. His thumb delicately stroking on your clit, barely ghosting it as your shudder and clutch onto him.

He softly strokes you to another orgasm as you pant inside his mouth.

You don’t know what tomorrow will bring, how he’ll treat you in the office after this.

If this could become a regular thing where he brings flowers and tequila, and takes a spare key and keeps some of his things here, and has dinner with you and showers with you.

You try to ponder on if it will make things tense or awkward. If he’ll regret it. If you’ll regret it. If he’ll see you as some easy conquest, another notch on his bedpost.

Or if this could become something more.

It doesn’t matter, because right now in this moment, as the clock rolls over into the early hours of Christmas morning in the torrential rain that sprays over Colombia, Javi kisses at your throat with a gentleness about him you couldn’t believe could have existed.

And it’s the best Christmas gift you ever could have wished for.

“Feliz Navidad, Javi.” You whisper into the hairs of his moustache.

“Feliz Navidad, cariño.” He whispers back.

12 DAYS OF XXX-MAS MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

#javier pena x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #javier pena #javier pena narcos #pedro pascal characters #javi p #javi pena smut #javi pena fic #javier peña #javi peña #javier pena x f!reader #javier pena x you #narcos fic #christmas stories #jett's writing

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ohgodmusic · 1 year

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Theirs is to win If it kills them They're just humans With wives and children

- “Race for the Prize”, The Soft Bulletin (2009), The Flaming Lips

#music #lyrics #the flaming lips #the soft bulletin

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s-eokie · 1 year

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( ルール ) : ☆ 𝗇𝗎𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗇𝖾

𝗂'𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗯𝗼𝘀𝘀 𝗮𝘀𝘀 𝗯𝗶𝘁𝗰𝗵 ⎯ 𝗂𝗋𝖾𝗇𝖾

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀

to build 𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲 囵. with much 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 and 𝗁𝗎𝗀𝗌 . . 𝗆𝖾 and 𝗒𝗈𝗎 ⎯⎯ ハグ ♡︬.

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ☆

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏𝖻𝗎𝗌𝖺𝗇, ͏ ͏𝗌𝗍. ͏ ͏6O ͏ ͏( ͏ ͏ ͏釜山で ͏ ͏ ͏)

͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏𝗆𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝘆𝗼𝘂.

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀

you are ライト 𓂃 ִֶָ to everyone appreciate your natural beauty & kindness.

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ 뷔 ♡ 분위기 ᵔᴗᵔ

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ 𝗌𝗍𝗒𝗅𝖾. 𝗂𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗂𝖼. 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗌.

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀

( 𠀋 ) ⎯⎯ 𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗈𝗇 · thcior

#soft #random #long #bios #locs #info #messy #layouts #icons #moodboard #kpop #ulzzang #girls #bulletins #moments #simple #minimalist #taehyung #irene #bts

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jhope-s · 1 year

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what i lūv on 𝘀𝗲𝗼𝗸 :

𝟭. 𝗌mile 𝟮. 筋肉

𝟯. 親切 𝟰. 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗍

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀

playlist ' ♡ : 𝗆𝖾 ﹠ 𝗒𝗈𝗎

𝟭. to 𝘀𝗲𝗼𝗸𝗶𝗲 𝟮. love song

i love you like a 사랑 노래, baby.

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀

𝖿𝗂𝗋s𝗍. 처음으로 𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾𝗈𝗄 :

𝘀𝗲𝗼𝗸 ’ 𝗌 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽, 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋, 여친.

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ 𝗆𝗒 男 ⎯⎯ ( 𝗃𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾-𝗌. ) ☆

#hoseok #bts #messy #random #soft #bios #locs #info #long #simple #ulzzang #girls #icons #bulletins #moments #minimalist #carrd #kpop #boys

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billskeis · 17 days

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this was a req from anon that was suuuper long but needless to say im obsessed ^.^

ᡣ𐭩 bill’s a stalking pervert

bill’s a pervert. a real, pervert. and not in the way you think. he’s not obvious. he won’t look up your skirt as you walk up the flight of stairs in front of him. he won’t stare down your cleavage as you yell and nag at him for calling you a ‘bitch’ as your tits press close together with the cross of your arms. god no, he’s not that stupid. he plans everything through.

at a good distance away, your house resides a couple houses down from him. perfect for you not to notice the way he’ll angle his head to get a perfect of you slipping out of your outfit, stripping completely naked to then put on a night gown. he relishes in the sight of your body, watering at the mouth. every inch and curve of yours was just utterly perfect to him. he gets hard thinking about running his hands on your soft and supple skin.

he takes pictures, a lot of them. don’t be surprised if you were to ever stumble upon his room and find a few of them pinned to a bulletin board on his wall. decorated nice and neat. one of the pictures he has is of a portrait of you, with a black-sharpie heart drawn on it. most of them were candids, of course, others taken from your social media and social media’s of your friends, and your friends friends, desperate to find anything of you.

try not to be surprised either at the fact he will have a photo of you by his bedside table, with a roll of toilet paper and body lotion.

one day he was following you while you were out on a weekday meeting up with a friend from work. you greeted your friend who was running a little late, embracing her in a friendly hug as the two of you sat down at the cafe table, drinks already ordered. was he sitting at the table next to you in some gaudy disguise? no, too weird. was he peeking through like a peeping tom from the entrance door? god no, he’s not an amateur.

he sat in his car, parked in the parking lot in front of the cafe as he adjusted the earbud he wore. while talking about friends and family, your friend brought up the odd question of what you thought of bill. cringing, you question her as to why she was asking this in the first place and she had mentioned how you two had always bitched at each other, to what she refers to as ‘a little too close for comfort to be just enemies.’

you roll your eyes at her, immediately beginning to throw insults at the man she spoke of. his heart stung a little, pouting at he looked at you through the car window while listening to the microphone of your friend’s earbud on the opposite side, hidden behind the locs of her hair so you wouldn’t notice that bill had been on call with her this whole time.

he had bribed her. but not to mention despite being your friend, she was closely acquainted to him more than she was with you, the money just had to be the cherry on top. feeling a little upset, he suddenly can’t help the gasp that let out his mouth when you told your friend that ‘despite him being hot, i don’t think he’d ever want to get with me, he hates me!’

oh how he was gonna change your mind.

turning the metal knob, you stop the shower water running as you exit the glass enclosure. wrapping yourself in the soft fuzzy towel, you step out of the bathroom into your bedroom, hair slightly dripping onto the wooden floor that creaked beneath your footsteps.

noticing that your closet door was left slightly open, you quirked an eyebrow up. what the hell? you thought you closed it before you left your room to go freshen up. you always leave it closed. well, it didn’t matter anyways because you needed to grab some clothes anyways.

opening the closet door, you heart almost sunk six feet under the ground as you were met with a figure you were least expecting. it was bill fucking kaulitz, your D1 enemy, standing, there, in your goddamn closet. you almost let out a shriek until he immediately covered your mouth with his palm. pressed his body against your half naked one, only the cover-up of your towel separating the two of you.

you blink fast. scared, anxious, what the hell was he doing in your room. he looked calm, but a little nervous. your heavy suffocated breaths are the only noise that fill the room, as he tells you to calm down, you attempt to slow your breathing. not wanting to concern anyone in your family, you comply with his orders. it would be a bad spot if any of them were to find you half naked with a complete stranger, a man, at that.

“gonna keep quiet?” you nod, you wanted answers. you wanted to know why the man you thought to dislike you, along with someone who you’d disliked so much was doing in the vicinity of your bedroom. letting his palm go away from your face, he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, “well?? what the fuck are you doing here!? how—how the hell did you get inside??”

“does that really matter right now? aren’t you glad to see me?” he holds his arms out, waiting for your response. he knows just how to push your buttons, you bite your lip. god was he tall, he had to look down at you for the two of you to make eye contact. this fucker was lucky that he was good looking, or else you would’ve called the cops. pretty privilege amiright?

“get the hell out.” “princess—” “i said, get the hell out, bill.” bill can only stare at you. staring you down, his eyes shift up and down your figure. you can feel his gaze on you. of course, he was standing right in front of you, acting as if he wasn’t undressing you with his eyes. your face heats up, could it be you’re feeling shy that he was looking at you with such lust or the fact that you had taken a steaming hot shower not too long ago?

he steps a little closer to you, you take a step back to keep a distance. “prinzessin, bitte.. i need you so bad.. i don’t think you understand how much i want you. wanted you. i craved for this moment for ever.. can’t you make my dreams come true..?” you’re at a loss for words, totally unbelieving the words that are coming out of his mouth. he wants you?? does this mean he likes you??

“i came to see you, i love you.. and i want you to make me yours..” “i.. c-can i get a moment to think about this?? you’re moving way too fast—” pulling you into a hug, you towel could threaten to fall off if he were to let go, his body slightly unravelling the heavy cloth that wraps around your body. your head was pressed against his chest, you hear his heartbeat. it’s fast and never stopping.

“y/n please!! i can’t wait for your response.. just please let me out you out.. please let me fuck you.. i only want you to feel good.” his black dreads drape over and tickle your shoulders as he nuzzles his head into your neck. as he begged and he begged, you can feel his hard-on pressed into your thigh. swallowing, you let the lump go down your throat as you whisper him a small ‘fine.’ he can’t help but let out a moan of joy, clearly relieved by your answer. he’s so happy. he’s so happy he gets to go down on his favourite girl.

your legs clamps around bill’s head. a grip entangled in his black locs as you form a makeshift ponytail with your hands to hold bill’s dreads back away from his face as he eats you out. he’s starved, hungry, licking at your folds if it were his last meal on earth. his moans vibrate in your pussy, his nose nudging your clit as he motions his head up and down.

he wouldn’t be able to stop now, and neither were you going to be able to stop him. he’s been dreaming of this, dreaming of the day that he would be able to use your body as he likes. he wouldn’t wanna use you like that though! he loves you too much, he only cares about your pleasure, if you’re feeling good, he comes second in this equation.

“auugh, b-bill..” you thrash your head back into the pillow as he flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue, “you taste sooo fuckin’ good..” as he eats you out sloppily, he purposely sucks at your cunt in a way that the noises are only what’s heard in your bedroom.

he wanted to be gentle! trust me, he did! bill would only want the best for his girl’s first time. you let him know before he went down on you, telling you that it was okay and just let him do all the work for now. but he can’t get enough of the taste, it’s like nectar to him. he can’t get enough of how sweet your moans are either, how his name just so easily rolls of his tongue other than in the context of you screaming in his face.

your juices drip down his chin, and he looks up at you from between your thighs. expecting, his eyes look as though he expects you to say something, “feel s’good billy.. m’gunna cum soon..!” and this fires him up even more, wrapping both his arms around your legs to bury his face into your pussy even more. messily lapping at the wetness, he places wet kisses on your clit as he whimpers at how pretty your puffy, sensitive cunt is. suddenly, he stops.

“s’pretty, but i want you to come on this dick. get up schatzi..” with weak wobbly legs, you prop yourself up on the bed, crawling to bill who’s already sat up against the bed frame. nervously, you bring your hands to palm bill through his sweatpants, a wince escaping his lips as he slightly trembles.

“shit..” “sensitive are ya?” you let out a soft giggle as he nods his head, biting his bottom lip a little too hard that it may bleed. you free his cock from its constraints to see it stand tall. fuck. he’s huge. you pray to the gods he doesn’t rip you apart, with such a length and girth. it’s a pretty shade of pink, and it leaks pre, a lot of it.

bill brings his hand to jerk himself off, as you position yourself within his lap, cunt slightly hovering over him. both prepped, he asks if you’re ready, and with just a nod, he pushes himself into you. slow, he inches his dick into the tight walls of your cunt, letting out a wanton moan as tears begin to fill his eyes. he’s so sensitive, with just the tip inside, he might already come. his dreams were finally coming to life, and it’s all thanks to you :3.

he wanted to wait for you to feel adjusted to his size. he knows he’s big, he just doesn’t flaunt it, wanting to save himself in surprising you with it of course. sitting there, he holds your hips as he can only moan out words of affirmation to you, telling you how pretty you look perched up on his cock or how good you tasted.

as good as he knows how to get under your skin, you also learnt today how good he was at making you nervous. what a little shithead he is, isn’t he? to no further notice, you begin to bounce your hips on his cock, cunt sliding up and down his length as your walls mould to the shape of him.

“a-amazing.. you feel s’good.. don’t stop—oh god—p-please don’t stop!” a tear falls down bill’s cheek as he whimpers from the way you fuck your hips back onto his. a heavy slapping sound fills the room as you ride him with no intent to stop and his sensitive dick can only hold out so much..

bill’s gaze cannot seem to focus on one thing. the way your tits bounce with how hard you ride him, or how your cunt just envelopes his dick. he doesn’t know where to put his hands, so he lets them fall to the side of his body. as you do all the work, you smirk, suddenly clenching around bill as he gasps. eyes widening as he cries out from the pleasure.

he’s pathetic. a complete and utter sobbing mess. dreads prettily framing his face as his black eyeshadow runs down it. rising your hips, you attempt to get the both of you off as quick as possible. you notice how bill squints his eyes shut, he’s concentrating on trying not to come too fast. cupping his cheek with your hand, he opens his eyes in shock, quickly nuzzling his face to stifle his moans into your palm as he shies away.

“mmphf.. s’happy.. s’glad you said, ah! y-yes..” “yea?? you happy?” “mmhm!!” and that’s what did it for you. while bringing your face closer to his, you kiss bill hard as you shove your tongue in his mouth, invading his as you piston your hips on his. you grin at the whorish moans he lets out into the kiss, tongues swirling within one another as bill attempts to catch his breath, wanting to let go but you only kiss him deeper.

he’s pussy drunk, it’s like a drug. and for what seemed like forever, bill’s orgasm came as he filled your insides, cum spurting to paint the insides of you white. he wraps his arms around you to bring your torsos closer together. thighs trembling, bill only fucks himself deeper than he already is, hitting your cervix straight on as his cum fills your womb.

the cord in your stomach finally snapped as your orgasm followed shortly after, electricity pulsing through your body as you clenched around him. as you break off the kiss, a string of saliva following, heavy pants are exchanged as the two of you stare at one another. “you okay?” you ask bill, he seems way more disheveled than you were, “mm’kay.. that was.. amazing..”

“don’t tell me that was your first time too? “s-shut up..” you laugh as you wipe the sweat off his forehead, putting some of his dreads behind his ears as you peck the tip of his nose. bill only smiles at you, telling you that he’s sorry about earlier. you can only shake your head at him and tell him that despite the fact he could’ve confessed any other way, you didn’t mind this, telling him that you also like him.

bill’s heart can only skip a beat as you lead him into the washroom to run a nice warm bath.

so rip to everyone else who was in that house >.> anon also wanted aftercare but im lazy this is all u get >:3

gn guys ! i did not proofread this .. or any of my works matter of fact :p

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel x y/n #tokio hotel x you #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel smut #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x y/n #bill kaulitz x you #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz smut #2000s #fyp #billskeis

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